A/N: For argument's sake, let's say that Christine is about ten years old here. The Phantom does not feel physical attraction for her at this point, but still recognizes her superior talent.
V. sing what you can't say; forget what you can't play
He often roams his opera house, unseen and unheard, to monitor the performers' progress. Generally he is disgusted by their lack of talent – yet one has had him returning again and again.
He watches the girl dance and laugh with her friends as they learn their ballet. "Sing something for us, Christine," they say, and she obliges.
Christine... her name is Christine.
She is a pretty little thing, if sometimes a bit sad in countenance, and her voice reflects all of this; it is sweet and melancholy.
Her voice lingers in his mind for the rest of the night, but he cannot write a single note. He does not sleep, but sits in from of his organ, picking out chords – nothing sounds quite right. In frustration, he at last rises and takes leave of his sanctuary, heading for the roof, where he will be undisturbed.
He climbs up to the very top of the opera house to find a light snow falling on the roof. He breathes in the crisp air with relish – while his underground lair provides safety, the view from the rooftop overlooking the Parisian night makes him feel like a free man – no, a god among men, staring down in solitude at the city below.
But no, he is not alone. There is one already up there, and she peeks out from under a hooded cloak in childlike curiosity and wonder. He knows not what to do in the face of such innocence, and so he puts his trust in what he knows best: he sings to her, telling her of her talent and her promise, and how in time he can make her a true virtuosa.
And as she sings back, the harmonies all come together in his mind. She calls him an angel, welcomes him, accepts him; his heart sings even as he does... but the stars fade and he bows to her, returning downward with a sweep of his cloak. He returns to his organ as dawn breaks over Paris, feeling as though the Muses themselves are guiding his hands.
Review Responses:
Kytten Thanks! Darkness is always good. ;)
Lookpastthemask It's about content, not length.
