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The Scorpion or the Grasshopper: Which?	By : HalfBl0odPr1nce Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 3121 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: The Scorpion or the Grasshopper: Which?

Author: MichellesYaoiKitten

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Phantom of the Opera or the Paris Opera house. I also do not own any of Gaston Leroux’s characters. I do own Dorian. He is a result of too much alcohol too late at night.

Dedication: For my Princess…my white rose. Without you I would be lost.

Summary: It has been twenty years since Erik has haunted the Opera house. A young Stagehand begins to hear strange voices. He connects them to the only thing he can think of…the Opera Ghost. The voices convince him to venture deep down into the cellars of the Opera House, tumbling into Erik’s world. Will the Opera Ghost rise again?

Author’s Note: I have combined all of the books, movies and plays I have read and seen. That way there is a little bit of everything in this. Three reviews gets you another chapter. Let me know what you think.

Dorian Giry stood over his mother’s coffin with tears in his soft brown eyes. She had been ill for quite some time but the death was sudden and shocking. Meg Giry was all Dorian had in the world. He had grown up without a father, having only stories of some mysterious man that was responsible for his birth. Meg had told Dorian that his father died only a few months before his birth. Now Dorian had nothing. There was his new job at the Opera House to look forward to. But that was all.

The managers had taken pity on the young man. His mother and Grandmother had worked for them for many years and young Dorian was now willing to carry on the tradition. He would start off as a stagehand, nothing glamorous. He didn’t have it in him to get up innt ont of crowds and perform. He was shy and quiet. Not like his mother at all. The only similarity between them was their petit build. Dorian had dark brown hair and soft, gentle brown eyes. He could remember that his mother often commented that he looked how his father would have looked if it had not been for…that was the point that she always trailed off.

Meg had taught Dorian to dance when he was a small child. He had learned quickly. She wanted to send him for voice lessons after hearing him singing alone in his room one evening before dinner. Dorian protested. He hated being in front of people. He preferred to be alone. Dorian spent most of his life in solitude.

Dorian sighed while they lowered the coffin into the ground. He took a step forward and tossed down a rose. “Je t'aime.” Dorian’s voice was barely above a whisper. A single tear slid down his pale cheek. He wiped it away quickly. He could not allow anyone to see him show such a sign of weakness.
Later that evening Dorian managed to stumble back into the small apartment he had been sharing with his mother. He had stayed there to take care of her. Near the end she had trouble walking and doing things that would be needed for her to take care of herself.
Knowing that he had a long first day ahead of him, he fell onto his bed and closed his eyes. Sleeping was going to be difficult but he had to try. Once asleep he dreamt of a strange labyrinthine world. It was dark and damp. At one point he noticed a lake. The dream was odd and felt uncomfortably real. Dorian sensed that it was trying to show him something when he woke the next morning. Shaking off the images he dressed and headed off to work.
The Opera House was as lovely as always. Dorian often felt at home there. For as long as he could remember he would visit his mother within those walls. Occasionally he had felt the need to venture off, causing quite a fright among the employees. He could wander around that place for hours and not grow tired or get lost in unfamiliar corridors and passageways. Somehow he knew every detail of the place.
Dorian’s job was simple enough. It wasn’t as if he had a lot to learn. He had made friends with some of the older stagehands during the many times he had gone to the Opera House when he was a child. They taught him about the details of working ‘behind the scenes’. He had enjoyed their company and Meg was happy to have someone watch him for her.
After having been at the Opera House for three hours Dorian felt once a little better about his decision to take the job. It gave him a chance to be involved in something great. Something that he would never be able to be part of in any other way, due to his terrible shyness. He wandered across the stage, carrying a few things with him to be put up and nailed down.
“Dorian…” The voice was so faint that Dorian thought he had imagined it. He continued his work, shrugging if off. “Dorian. I know that you can hear me.” The voice spoke again. Dorian jumped. The action caused him to drop some of the wood that he had been transporting from one side of the stage to the other. Dorian looked around. It was hard to avoid the feeling of nervousness that was slowly creeping its way up inside of him. There was no one around. Dorian was alone.
Long ago there had been rumors of an ‘Opera Ghost’ that terrorized the Opera House and demanded that everything go his way. When the topic came up in conversation Meg often changed the subject and insisted that Dorian not speak about the Ghost. Dorian wondered if the tormenting spirit was still around. Could it be the Opera ghost that had addressed him? Why Dorian? And why by name? Who was this sinister specter?
“Who are you?” Dorian called out. He had to know.
“Come find me…and you will learn.” The voice spoke again. It was soft and musical. Dorian wondered how he could possibly search for the source. Could it have something to do with his dream? He had seen those passages before…but where?

~*~*~*~
Okay. Three reviews gets you more. I know this isn’t very long but I wanted to get a feel for what people think before going off into a major fic. Let me know if you want to read more.
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The Scorpion or the Grasshopper: Which?