So… this first bit is a little songfic-ish, but the rest of the "phan-fic" will not be similar. The entire fic is loosely based on the novel by Gaston Leroux and the Andrew Lloyd Weber/Charles Hart musical. Basically I own nothing. Sad, but true.


Cellars below the Opera Garnier. Two days before the opening of Don Juan Triumphant.

Christine Daaé crouched in a corner of the Louis-Philippe room, head bent to avoid the horrors of thought. She had been abandoned over time, her entire life. First her sickly mother, then her deceased father, and now the young Vicomte. The girl had thought she could trust Raoul or even Meg to come save her, but they had not. Raoul loved one god: Money; to serve this idol, his secret fiancée must be sacrificed to him. She must learn her part intensively to be Aminta in the Phantom's Don Juan Triumphant. Christine had given up the endearment "mon ange", for he had killed so many! And yet… there was something in his sometimes gentle manner, his servile ways, and their mutual love for music that made her that much more alive every time his voice came to embrace her ear.

No! She buried her face betwixt her knees. This was precisely why she would not allow herself to think. He was already physically present, had been for the past month of vigorous vocal training. He could not invade her mind.

Her thoughts seemed to summon him as a knock sounded on the threshold. Reflexively she looked up, setting her chocolate curls bouncing.

"It is time for today's lesson." Erik, as she'd learned was the name of her tutor, murmured. He could look her in the eye anywhere but this, her private chamber.

Wearily she stood and attempted to plead. "Why can't you just let me go?"

"Why?" His voice was stony in the face of her rejection. "You return in two days at any rate. Perhaps you'll never see me again."

Christine quavered where she stood. How long was two days here, underground where no sun could warm her brow? "I am frightened."

Erik sighed so forcefully it became an angry sob.

"Not by you!" She hastily amended.

"Then by what?" Came his defeated whisper.

"I… I don't know." She paused. "That is what frightens me."

"It is time for today's lesson." He repeated mechanically. "Come."

She followed obediently, heading for the Phantom's organ.

"We shan't use that today." He leaned against a wall, watching her. "We shall perform the final duet a capella, with as much reality as though this were opening night."

"Oh." Christine answered lamely.

After a brief, twin warm-up, Erik turned to her. "Start from Aminta's soliloquy."

She nodded, and fixed herself into the character. In fact, Aminta was not far from Christine, a blatant parallel on Erik's part. Both were young, naïve, and believers in Love above all else.

No thoughts within her head

But thoughts of joy…

No dreams within her heart

But dreams of

Love…

A shiver ran down her spine as thoughts, not of Raoul but of the masked man before her, emerged.

Erik passed over the cunning Passarino's bit and into Don Juan's opening.

You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge…

In pursuit of that wish which 'til now has been silent…

Silent…

It was then the epiphany came. Raoul was a passing fancy, easily replaced. Erik was so much more. He lifted her to such euphoria, and she felt protected when he was there. Her mind had been molded by Society, but no matter what they said, he was her Angel of Music. He had wanted her to know this all along, and finally she had, through his moving opera.

You have brought me to that moment when words run dry…

She hardly was aware that she sang. Instead Christine neared Erik, causing him great uneasiness. Never had she come to him of her own volition! Venturing from indifferent abandonment to the brush of her fingers on his flushed cheek was a complete, but not unwelcome, juxtaposition. He shuddered once and took her small hands in his stronger ones, leading them across his face and to the mask, his misanthropy, his barrier from Humanity.

Past the Point of No Return

The final threshold…

The force of their voices intertwined pinned the two, her back to his front, hands freed from rigorous reins into requited Love.

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn.

We've passed the Point of No Return…

The motion froze, as though the song's end had stopped Time. Christine savored the feel of his hands on her waist, knowing this might be their last embrace. But why should it? Her thoughts rebelled.

She turned to see his penetrating eyes, a blue witnessed on the surface of a frozen pond. "I am frightened of the love I hold for you." The exertion of this, her confession, tossed her limply to his chest.

Erik's breath timidly danced on her tresses. Then it came harsher, more needing, as he cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss, the mingling of their souls, set every bit of Christine afire. She moaned against him as he lifted her into his arms. His sure and ready frame carried them back to her chamber. Black lace curtains floated about them as her hair fanned out on the crimson, satin sheets, his every kiss upon her skin heralding the rightness of their love.