Death Awakens

A/N: My first PoTO fic... please R/R

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but God, I wish I did! No money is being made from this

Chapter 1:
“Pick Erik! Pick Erik!” five girls sat around a television screen, hugging a bowl of popcorn between them, fingers crossed and hopeful. All five girls groaned as the phantom broke the mirrors in his home, crying in anguish.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” and the screen flickered black. A chorus of protests sounded as four girls looked indignantly at the one wielding the remote control.

“It’s heartbreaking and it’s annoying!” she cried. “I love this movie as much as you guys, but it’s so aggravating to see the same stupid ending. He’s alone… she’s not.” All five girls sighed.
They spent the duration of the night, lounging around on the floor, munching on the remainder of the popcorn discussing upcoming plans. Then the clock in the hallway chimed 11, and Lila stood up reluctantly.

“Looks like it’s time for me to go, girls,” she said, dropping the remote on the couch.
One girl stood, clutching the popcorn bowl and munching on the unpopped kernels.

“You’re so lucky, Lila, you know that? I’d kill to go to Paris. Hah! I’d kill to have your voice!”

Lila smiled and hugged her, “Altos don’t sing lead, Chrissy.”
She hugged them all, and walked slowly towards the door.

“Need help, darling?” another girl asked, a concerned look on her face. Lila smiled and brushed them away.

“Nope, no help necessary. Thanks though.” She grimaced slightly. “Just a little sore from sitting so long.” And then she smiled, “Night girls. I’ll send pictures from the Opera House.” Last hugs were given, good-byes and a few tears.

“See you in a year.” And then she stepped out into the night.

The airport was busy. Everyone seemed to ignore the girl sitting in the terminal. She was listening to a ix CD her friends had made for the trip. All their favorite songs discreetly downloaded and lovingly signed.
A flight attendant pulled up next to her. “Lila Bouvet?” she asked.
Lila pulled off her headphones, “Yes?”
“Your mother called us and said you might need some help today.”
Lila blushed and gently shook her head. “Oh please, no thank you. I’m fine really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. My mom, she just feels guilty because she’s on a business trip and can’t see me off. Just a little overprotective. I’m great, thanks though.”
The flight attendant pursed her lips for a moment before nodding, “Alright, but if you change your mind, just call for me. My name’s Gabrielle.”
Lila thanked her, and quickly shoved her CD player onto her carry-on bag because they were calling her seat.
Bracing herself against the back of the seat and her bag, she stood up, the back of her calves trembled a little. With a shaky smile, she walked on to the plane.


Paris was beautiful. Paris was exquisite. Lila leaned her head out the taxi window to take pictures of everything.
“I’m such a tourist,” she thought excitedly, snapping a picture of the handsome soldiers sitting at a café.
They pulled in front of the Opera Populaire, the driver coming around to help her out. She thanked him, giving him an extra large tip and a smile and slowly walked towards the building.

She was so lucky really. For the anniversary celebration of the Phantom of the Opera musical, they had gathered an entirely new cast of entirely new voices. She had auditioned of course for any role, even if it was just a chorus girl. It would be a dream come true to be in a stage performance of one of her favorite stories.
The directors loved her voice. They said she was perfect as Meg, like the role had been made just for her. She had blushed a fierce red at their compliments and thanked them shyly. And then they had asked her to dance. Nothing too difficult, just a couple pirouettes, Meg was a ballerina after all.
Lila told them she could not and slowly lifted up her skirt to show the directors her withered leg. She had been born that way, one leg smaller than the other, unable to gain the same muscle capacity, making her walk slow and halting. She hid it well, learning to maneuver relatively well, but there were moments, such as these, when no amount of practice could hide her handicap.

The directors had frowned at her leg, uncertain as to what their decision about her would be. After talking amongst themselves quietly, they had thanked her for her time, but said it would not be feasible to have a ballerina that couldn’t dance.
Lila had blinked back tears and smiled, thanking them for listening. And she had left.

But that night, the phone rang to tell her the most wonderful news. The directors had reconsidered, they had rewritten some stage placement and had found a dancer who looked relatively similar to Lila that could act as her double during any difficult dance segments. Lila was elated and immediately called her mother who was out of state the good news.

Lila was going to be on stage.