Long black cloak billowing out behind him, Erik stalked through the secret passages of the opera house with a set destination in his mind.
With the cool underground air biting around the edges of his mask, the Phantom pondered as to how exactly this had happened. How he, who had people wrapped around his pinky and men cowering at his feet and blood on his hands, had fallen soft under the innocent gaze of one Christine Daae.
Her arrival at the opera house hadn't been unusual in and of itself- the ballet often took in orphans as performers. Erik had witnessed her arrival with nothing more than a mild interest and a mental note of her existence.
Life had gone on as usual for about a week or so, until he had encountered her alone in the chapel, a candle alight for her father. Interested in the way that a wounded bird interests a snake, he observed her from the darkness of his secret passage.
A streak of wetness glimmered on her cheek, and with a soft breath, Christine began to sing.
And Erik, who sat alone in the darkness, could almost see a flash of bright light illuminate the room as the first note flew from her lips. There was, in her voice a raw emotionality that took his breath away- shocked him in such a manner that he hadn't experienced in years.
Along with the emotionality there was something else- potential. It vibrated in the air and brushed along his cheek- a hope for something more. A hope for something beautiful.
Almost without thinking, he began singing a harmony to little Christine's song.
She stopped with a cry of fear and fled the chapel, night gown flying out behind her. The cold, infallible Phantom watched her go in a state of shock as her warmth followed behind her and left him cold.
The next time he joined her song, Christine stopped singing, but did not run. Instead, she just listened. And in his heart, Erik knew that this was his only chance to gain her young, fragile trust.
And so he sang with a tenderness and beauty he did not know he possessed, and in this manner he earned her heart.
At first, he didn't know how to define his feelings for the girl, this child. He taught her how to use her voice, how to maximize its beauty and its potential.
And as her voice developed, so did Christine.
She grew taller and slim, looking remarkably like a delicate porcelain doll. Her curls grew out past her shoulders, chestnut brown and gleaming in the stage lights as her watched her lithe figure twirl. Her body grew into that of a young women, not a girl, and her face lost all of its childish roundness.
While the supposedly emotionless Phantom watched his Christine grow, he also observed a change in his feelings towards her- from the gentle patience of teaching into a strong adoration and a feeling of possessiveness.
No longer could Erik watch her for any length of time without his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her bright eyes, or his breath coming short at the smile that seemed to constantly grace her lips.
He did his best to capture her likeness in songs and drawings- although in his opinion, neither of these did her loveliness justice.
The cold, lonely Phantom finally paced to a stop at the end of the passage, and was jerked from his reverie. He'd arrived.
From this one-way mirror, he could observe Christine in her dressing room. But never while she was indecent- he couldn't bear to disrespect her in that way. Right now she sat at a mirror, running a brush through her hair.
She looked unbelievably nervous- tonight was her debut at the gala. Christine would finally become a full fledged singer. Erik was so incredibly proud.
However, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to go to her and smooth the stress line between her eyebrows out under his thumb.
Very abruptly, he made a decision. His Christine had begged to see him rather frequently as of late- he would oblige her. Tonight, after her successful (he was sure it would be) performance.
With a small bloom of love in his chest, he watched as she began to pin her hair up in jeweled clips.
A rare smile brushed across the Phantom's face as he leaned against the edge of the tunnel behind the mirror, admiring his Christine and earnestly hoping for the best.
-/
AN: Hi there! Wow, I'm tryin really hard to get back into the swing of writing. Anyway, first PotO fic. Please tell me how I'm doing! Love it hate it want to kill it with fire, review and let me know, please!