Disclaimer and Randomness: Uhhh, I don't own anything except a copy of Gaston Leroux's book, a VHS tape of the 1920's version of the movie (you know, the one with Lon Chaney in it?) and the soundtrack. Sorry if I kind of drifted away from my other story. But this one was eating at my brain! Stupid little plot bunny. Anyway, I got this idea from a dream thing that I had after seeing the new movie and some movie my sister has about a little girl who is made blind by her parents and stuff. Sam is evil like that. This takes place alongside the original plot, just from a different perspective, and also when Christine was a little girl in the beginning. Sorry if Erik is a tad OOC in this. So, here you go.

Chapter 1: Child In The Snow

It was a cold December night and Erik sat in his lair, writing down notes that he produced from his organ to make a song. He did this when he was bored. Compose something random. He stretched a little bit and stopped writing, he was now a little too bored. He got up and put his mask on. He was never afraid of seeing himself, just ashamed. He prowled out of his lair to go creep around the opera house for a little while. He had to do it eventually anyway, just to see what the next opera would be. No one ever noticed him when he did this, and if he did, it was usually just to scare someone. And it was usually that no one saw him. Glancing at the wall, he was pleased to see 'Faust' was playing within a month. He always liked that one. Then he looked to the side and smiled to see snow falling outside the window. Looking around quickly, he used the shadows to his advantage and managed to get outside before anyone could see or hear him. The sight of snow made him happy and sad at the same time. The happiness was from the fact that it was so gentle and beautiful and no two snowflakes were alike. The sadness was that it made him feel more pushed away from eveyone since it was so lonely. No one really came out much when it snowed. He knew no one was ever really out now at the hour, so he felt no pressure just to walk around for a little bit. He carefully walked around the opera house to where some of the Paris alleys connected. As he was just starting to enjoy the solitude of the snowfall, it was interrupted by a shriek. Acting on instinct, he stole away into the shadows of one alley, but that was exactly where the shrieking was coming from. He looked around quickly, hunting down the source. His eyes feel to a pile of rags on the ground. They moved a little bit. He cocked his head and bent over, carefully pulling back the rags. He gasped. A baby was nestled into the rags, fussing angrily, obviously not liking the cold. He gently scooped up the child and looked at it. He could see it was a girl, judging by the mat of dark brown hair and her long eyelashes. She opened her eyes. Strange thing was, they looked every which way, never focusing on anything. He held her in one arm and waved one hand in front of her, but she didn't see it. Then he realized, she was blind. But her eyes showed no sign of actually being permanently blind. Her pupils still dilated and she obviously was trying to focus. He held her to him and she turned her head every which way. She turned her head far enough that he could see the back of her neck. Quickly, he stopped her head from going back and looked closely at the back. A angry red mark contrasted to the paleness of her skin. He felt a small flick of anger in him. Someone had forced her to be blind by cutting off the connection from her eyes to her brain. But they had not succeded. After all the books he read, he could tell the blow was too light and only bent the circuit. She did a sort of growl at him making him let go of her head. "Sorry." he whispered. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. 'I can't leave her here.' he thought. The little girl tried to look at him. And he knew then and there that he would have to care for her.

When he got back to the lair, he found a blanket on the sofa in the sitting room. He wrapped her fragile body up in it and held her. She fussed angrily. Her eyes darted around, like little blue orbs. Her eyes were actually a beautiful color of blue, almost a turquoise. He sighed softly. "No little one, you don't want to see. Nothing on this world is worth seeing." But that didn't stop her. She screamed finally in anger. He knew that seeing everything one minute and losing it all the next had to be horrible. Especially if you were a child like she was. Then he realized, she had no name. He thought of a name, any name, but no ideas came. No girls names came to mind. Then one came. "Amile." he said finally. It was his mother's name. He always loved her, no matter how much she seemed to hate him. Throwing his mask at him whenever he tried to be affectionate. But he always remembered the night that they held eachother and cried together. The girl had stopped screaming and squirming and settled into his arms. This brought a sort of sad smile to his face. He could never hate his mother, now he wanted to show all the affection in the world to prove, wherever his mother was, that he could be affectionate. He looked down at the small girl in his arms. "You are now Amile," he stopped, then added, "my daughter."