Hello everyone! This story is AU, set in the late 19th century in the waning days of the American Old West. The rating is M for sexual themes and violence. Hope you enjoy. Please review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Gaston Leroux's PotO, Susan Kay's Phantom, or ALW's PotO

1883 St. Joseph, Missouri

That August was one of the hottest and driest anyone could remember. Even Granny Beasley at the great age of ninety-two, couldn't come up with a hotter one. A dry spell had set in and rain was a distant memory, even causing the mighty Missouri to run low. Barges became hung up on the sand bars dotting the river, only to get free by using teams of mules to drag them off.

The last rainfall had been at the end of May; the land was parched, with crops withering in the fields and someone's well running dry nearly everyday. Only the adventurous or the insensible, would be out walking briskly through town on a sweltering afternoon.

The two girls cut through the vacant lot next to the feed mill and crossed the small bridge over Darlings Creek, intent on their mission. The dust rose into the stagnant air as they left the bridge, and trudged along the dirt road on the other side.

"Just because Becky said it, doesn't make it so, Christine. Besides, why are you so interested? They're just dumb boys."

Her friend eyed her knowingly. "Why, Marguerite Lenore Giry! You're a phony if I ever saw one. You're curious the same as me, so don't you deny it!"

The small, dark-haired girl stopped. "I am not!"

"Your red face says otherwise, I guess."

"Only because you made me traipse after you under this sun tryin' to cook us!" Meg hotly protested. "I'm here to keep you out of trouble."

Christine grabbed her friend's hand and started walking again, her single braid swinging free, then settling once again, its tip grazing the small of her back. "Oh, I know you are," she grinned, "and look how well it's working. We're only going for a walk. That's all."

Meg snorted. "The heat's addled your brain. No one simply goes for a walk mid-afternoon in this inferno."

"I just want to see if it's true. Miller's Pond is for everybody, isn't it? We skate there in winter same as the boys, don't we? So why not go there now? Where's the harm?"

The other girl rolled her eyes at that. "Because you're not going there to chat, that's why! You're going to spy on them." Meg kicked a pebble with the toe of one dusty boot, skipping ahead of her friend. She turned neatly around, walking backward. "Becky told you they're skinny dipping, and that's why you want to go to Miller's. Why you would believe her anyway is beyond me. You tell me she's a little liar often enough!"

"Well, she is," Christine mumbled, and had the grace to blush, her sweaty face merely becoming a deeper shade of pink. She chose not to answer Meg, instead, looking pointedly ahead for their turn-off into the woods. Even the trees looked dusty and thirsty to her. She swiped her hand across her perspiring forehead, almost wiping it on her blue dress, then stopped. It was one of her favorites.

"It'll be nicer under the trees, Meggie. If no one is there, I'm going wading. The least we should be able to do is remove our shoes and stockings. Where's the harm? How about you?"

"That's the most sense you've made all day. I'm melting!"

Going single file, they took the well worn path into the woods. The birds were quiet this time of day; resting until the cool of early evening. The shade under the canopy of trees after the sun soaked walk across town, felt blessedly good. They had a ten minute hike to Miller's Pond, but already they quieted and used more stealth.

Christine pulled at the bright red scarf, regretting its presence around her neck. At least she had the sense that morning to braid her hair; it was far better this way, than leaving it loose. She reckoned a glass of lemonade would taste good right about now as she licked her dry lips. She almost changed her mind about their destination; she wasn't at all sure why she was doing this. Meg had been trying to talk her out of it all morning, but an unseemly curiosity had kept her silent. She often wondered about the differences between boys and girls, and she knew better than to ask her aunt, or even Hannah. Christine suspected they would look at her like she had grown two heads if she asked questions of that nature.

When Becky first told her about the boys going swimming minus their clothes, she had seen an opportunity for her and Meg. It was not as if they had the luxury of swimming on a hot summer day; they were supposed to comport themselves like ladies all of the time. At least that's what Hannah always told them. The major drawback to being a lady, she reckoned, was the sad fact that sitting on the porch was as much fun as they could rightly expect. Today, they got lucky when Hannah sent them to the butcher's to place their weekly meat order, and after dropping off the list, a little cajoling on Christine's part had convinced Meg to join her on her quest. They might be considered little hooligans for what they were about to do, but when you got right down to it, watching was harmless.

Wasn't it?

Since Christine had arrived at her aunt's, she had led Meg into mischief on a regular basis. At first it was fairly tame. A trip to Main Street for a bag of penny candy, or the time they tried to make their own ice-cream, wasting a whole sack of sugar in the process. Her aunt had been out for the afternoon, and Hannah had gone to the market, trusting the two girls to stay out of trouble. They had been sent to bed early with no supper that night.

Then just last year, Christine had decided a bareback ride up Broad Street on their carriage horse, Nellie, would be just the thing. Meg had fallen off and to Christine's horror, nearly trampled. That had sobered her into thinking more before acting rashly; she had been frightened when the younger girl slid from the mare's back and under her feet. Except for some scrapes and bruises, Meg had escaped serious injury, but she had never seen Hannah or her aunt as angry as they were that day, when a neighbor led Nellie with the girls in tow, back to the house. She had been sent to bed hungry once again, but with an added indignity- a sore behind.

She had finally learned her lesson.

Or so she thought.

But life in St. Joe was horribly tame. A leisurely walk on a summer day wasn't a bad thing, she reasoned. They weren't always getting underfoot at home, and it kept her aunt from insisting she work on her sampler, thinking glumly of the snarled mess atop the dresser in her room. She picked up her pace, seeing the path just ahead that wound through the woods and to Miller's Pond.

Becky Drake could have made it up. After all, she claimed her brother Wendell told her so, and everyone knew he could lie as well as his sister, but if anyone wished to get her in dutch with her aunt, it would be Becky who performed the deed. The two girls from their first meeting had shared nothing but a simmering animosity for each other. It puzzled Christine as to why the Drake girl felt such contempt for her, but to deny its existence would have been futile. It was there, and as Hannah often said- that was that. But she had always been a curious child, and at fifteen she still was. So taking Becky's gossip with a large grain of salt, she decided to find out for herself. Curious and more daring than Meg, she saw nothing wrong in what they were doing. After all, who would know?

The trees began to thin somewhat, and just about then they heard the boisterous laughter and shouting. The girls halted, Meg hanging back while Christine, the braver of the two, crept closer to the noise. The trees were fairly dense at the edge of the woods where she was standing; she kept herself safely hidden behind the tree trunk she was leaning against and cautiously peeked around it. There was a clearing surrounding the pond, which was in reality, more of a small lake. In the dead of winter a large bonfire was built, and the children, and at times adults, skated on the hard ice for hours.

But today, under a cloudless sky, three boys pushed and splashed each other, looking deliciously cool- and naked as the day they were born. She clapped a hand over her mouth and turned to Meg, frantically beckoning her forward. Christine turned back and watched as a slightly built blonde haired boy, climbed a small hill and grabbed onto a bull rope dangling from the limb of a large maple. He looked familiar to her, and while she tried to place him, he gave an enthusiastic Indian war whoop, pushing off from the bank and becoming airborne. Once over the water, he released the rope and neatly turned in mid-air, diving headfirst into the pond, making scarcely a ripple.

Meg joined her friend at the tree trunk, and her gaze was also riveted on the boy diving into the water. Their eyes became huge as saucers watching them splashing about; it was too much for Meg when one of them decided to float on his back. Staring at his pale torso, her eyes slid helplessly to his genitalia, causing her to snort in uncontrollable amusement. She fought to hold in the embarrassed giggles, clamping both hands over her mouth, but promptly lost the battle when Christine looked at her in horror.

To Meg, the expression on her friend's face was priceless, and only made the situation funnier. She leaned over, hands on her knees and whooped in great gusts of laughter. "Oh...oh! C-Christine! Y-Your face!" the girl wheezed, trying to catch her breath.

"Noo, Meg, you dunderhead! They heard us! They're coming. Run!

"Run!"

Nearly hysterical, Meg spun around and did as she was told, surprisingly, still laughing. Only now, her laughter was edged in terror. Christine knew the three boys heard them when they looked in the direction of the tree where the girls were hidden. Pausing only long enough to throw their trousers on, two of the boys were approaching fast while the shortest of the three hopped around on one foot, clumsily attempting to put his pants on. The sight caused Christine to squeal with breathless laughter until the boy went sprinting past her, intent on catching up with Meg, leaving the others to run her down.

And that's when she decided that running was in her best interests as well.

Never had Christine wished more to be wearing trousers herself, instead of a hindering dress and petticoats. Her legs were long and coltish; she had good speed, but the boys were faster and the heavier of the two caught up with her just as she nearly reached the relative safety of the woods. He grabbed her scarf, twisting the filmy material around one meaty fist and began dragging her back to the pond.

"I'll teach you to spy on your betters, you little witch! Now you won't have to just watch. Why, you're going swimmin'. How's that sound, huh?"

He continued dragging her back toward the pond, all the while Christine fighting like a wildcat. She quickly glanced over at the blonde haired boy who was keeping pace with his friend.

"I know you, Raoul de Chagny and so...so does my aunt!" his identity finally clicking in place. He had been a year ahead of her in the four room school house she had attended. He simply looked different sans clothes and wet hair slicked back. "I'll be telling her who ruined my dress and you'll all be in trouble for this!" she screamed at him. Christine's anger and fright had her breath coming in sobbing pants and her face was wet with tears.

The blonde boy put his hand on his friend's arm. "Stop, Gabe. She's right, you know. We'll only get in trouble for this. Let her go."

Gabe kept walking and dragging Christine, now nearly to the pond. She was so close to him, she could see the soft downy hair on his cheeks and a scattering of pimples on his chin. She swallowed nervously, not looking forward to a dunking...or a drowning. The boy was in a temper.

She tried once again. "W-We have just as much right t-to be here as you d-do," yanking ineffectually at her arm. His grip was painful. "We weren't doing anything wrong!"

Gabe's steps slowed, but he kept walking and holding tightly to Christine. He was a husky boy, and tall for his age. "They were spying on us, Raoul. Dim witted good for nothin' females!" He gave her a shake, then a shove, knocking her off balance.

Her red scarf was still wrapped around his fist. Unwinding it, he balled it up in one hand and pitched it into the pond, where it floated momentarily. Christine cried out as she stumbled before righting herself, and moved on panicked feet to the edge of the water.

"My scarf! Please! My father- he...he gave it to me!"

Raoul gave her a look of disgust, but quickly waded into the water and retrieved it for her.

"Why you want to help the likes of her, de Chagny? We had a good thing here till they showed up!" Gabe said a crude word and eying his friend with disfavor, he turned on his heel, gathered his things and left the clearing.

Christine felt only embarrassment. The boy standing beside her was clothed now, but her cheeks rosy, she remembered when he wasn't, and felt mortified at having been caught peeking at him.

"Th-Thank you for stopping him, and for this," indicating her slightly soggy scarf. Using the heels of her hands, she wiped the last of the tears away.

Raoul shrugged. "I didn't do it for you. I just didn't want to get in any trouble with my mother. She knows your aunt."

Christine nodded, and he went over and picked up his shirt, hastily donning it. He didn't like thinking that this girl had watched them cavorting in the buff. They had seen his...

He stopped that thought, a blush painting his cheeks red. Slowly they left the clearing together, the silence uneasy and awkward.

She was the first to speak. "Your mother's name is Emily, isn't it?"

Raoul pitched his head to the side and tapped his temple with the heel of his hand, forcing water out of his ear. He squinted up at her and nodded. "My father is Louis. I also have an older brother named Philippe, then there's me, my twin brothers John and Luke, then Tom and Freddy," and as an afterthought...

"I have a six year old sister too."

He paused and looked at her, smiling for the first time. The smile transformed his face. It was actually very nice. She felt herself blushing again.

Raoul studied the girl in front of him. If he had liked girls, which he didn't, he would have considered her to be a pretty one, but he had no use for them. They talked too much and became agitated if they got a speck of dirt on themselves.

And they had no sense of adventure.

Last April, the news came to them about the death of Jesse James, shot by a member of his own gang in his home on Lafayette Street. Raoul was mad to go and join the crowds flocking around the small house where the body lay. Phil and his friend Albert Speer were going, and Raoul eagerly tagged along with his then five year old sister Clara. Pulling her along behind him, he tried mightily to keep up with the older boys who had no intention of slowing down. His mother had insisted on him watching his sister while she attended an afternoon tea, so he reluctantly grabbed the little girl's hand and the unlikely foursome set off across town.

Soon, his sister began to cry, becoming frightened by all the talk of a dead body and violence. Philippe, impatient, finally ordered Raoul home with the little girl.

"Take her home, brother, or you'll find yourself in a world of hurt with Mother."

Cursing savagely under his breath, he dragged his sister home again, hating her and Philippe by equal turns. At fifteen, he didn't think he would ever forgive them, for he never did view the outlaw's body, but his brother did and became the star at the dinner table when his father wanted to know all the grisly details.

Yes, girls were pretty much useless creatures, and the one standing in front of him was no different. Still, she had nice hair, shining golden in the harsh sun.

"What about you?" he asked her.

"Just my Aunt Edna and me." She looked down at her wet scarf. "I've lived with her since my father died. Five years now."

"What about your mother? Where's she?"

"She died when I was four. I-I don't remember her very well- it was just my father and me until... well..." Christine looked at the scarf again. "This was the last thing he gave me," she said softly.

"I know where you live. That purple house with the towers. That's a mighty big place for two people."

"Oh, our housekeeper Hannah Giry and her daughter Meg live there as well."

They were out of the woods and walking on the dirt road back into town.

Christine felt the need to say something to the boy. In a halting voice, "I'm...I'm real sorry for breaking up your fun. And...and not making our presence known. That was wrong."

She surprised him. Most girls he knew, would never admit when they were wrong. His respect for her went up a notch... albeit, a tiny one.

He looked down the road. "Here comes your friend. I...uh, I better take off."

Raoul hesitated then said, "Look uh, better stay away from Miller's for a while. Next time you might not be so lucky. Maybe I'll see you around sometime, Christine."

She looked at him shyly. "Yes. I-I'd like that."

He nodded, and she watched him disappear into the brassy light of mid-afternoon, just as an out of breath and grubby Meg approached her huffing and puffing, her face sweaty with wisps of dark hair plastered to her neck.

"Whew! I thought I'd never get rid of him! He chased me a good ways, but I ducked back into the woods and lost him finally." She fingered the torn sleeve of her brown dress. "My mother is going to flay me alive for this, Christine. I hope you're happy."

Christine looked at her wrinkled and creased scarf with sadness. "Next time try talking me out of my insanity a little harder, would you? I'm sorry, Meg. I'll take the blame."

"It's all right," her ire disappearing as quickly as it came. "At least you offered. How about you? I saw you with that blonde boy. Did he hurt you?"

"No. He was rather nice. The other one though was all set to give me a good dunking. Raoul stopped him and rescued my scarf."

"My, my. Raoul, is it? He made an awful big impression on you in such a short time." She looked at Christine slyly. "Was that before or after he put clothes on?"

Christine gave her friend a shove. "That wasn't nice, Meg Giry! Take it back!" She advanced on Meg with fire in her eyes, and the younger girl threw up her hands in surrender.

"All right! I take it back! Land's sake! This was your idea in the first place."

Christine looked sheepishly at Meg, her anger dying quickly. "I'd just like to forget about it now. I-I don't know what gets into me sometimes."

"I don't know either, but one thing is for certain," Meg giggled, and a blush crept up her neck, "I never thought it looked like that! Yuck!" She laughed nervously. "Why do you think so many women get married? I'm not ever! What about you?"

"They get married to have babies," Christine informed her. "Everybody knows that!"

The younger girl looked at her friend in puzzlement. "Well, I'm going to have a houseful of cats, and you won't see any boys or babies around my house, that's for certain!"

"Not me. I want lots of babies." She glanced at Meg with a good deal of skepticism. "How can you not want babies? They're so sweet. Just like Mrs. Robidoux's little one. She lets me hold her."

Meg stubbornly shook her head. "Well, I don't! They're also noisy, and sometimes they smell like they've gone over. No, I just want cats." She took Christine's arm and sighed in resignation. "Let's get this over with. Hopefully I can come up with a good enough reason for my torn dress that mama might believe."

"Well, at least we discovered one thing, Meggie."

"What?"

"Becky didn't lie after all."

Meg nodded solemnly, and together arm in arm, they walked back through town, their steps faltering the closer they got to Broad Street and home.