Music of the Night

He was intimately familiar with the tune; it seemed it had always been with him. When he was a boy, he used to cling to it in the cold, dark nights when tears threatened to spill. As he grew into a man, he had allowed the song to melt and pool in the quiet parts of his mind, so that no matter what he did, the notes would wisp through his being and comfort him. Now he brought every note into sweet clarity.

The words were not as familiar, though; they came to him shyly, as the lyrics were still fresh and new. Indeed, they had only come to him just a few hours ago, as he stood directly beneath the Opera Populaire's stage and listened to her stun them with her rendition of the aria from Hannibal. Now, Christine Daaé would be the first to hear both the tune and words together in a glorious song.

Little by little, he stepped away from the organ, opened his mouth, and began singing the song from the depths of his soul. "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination."

"Silently, the senses abandon their defenses." He reached a hand toward Christine and gently pulled her to her feet. Then he guided her off the boat and onto the stone floor. He took a few steps backward, never letting his gaze stray from her lovely face.

Before he lost confidence, he went on. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender." He curled his gloved fingers around the air in a beckoning motion, striving for her to utter acceptance and trust, but she turned her head to glance across the water.

No, Christine, no. Please, don't do this to me. He smashed the hurt down instinctively and kept singing, pulling her chin back toward him. "Turn your face away, from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light..."

He glanced down, letting his eyes fall upon the panorama he had made of the gala. When Christine followed his gaze, he pulled her past the mini-stage, embarrassed that she should see the sketch he had made of her after their last music lesson. It looked nothing like her, making only a caricature of her beauty. He jerked his attention back to his song. She must not sense any other weakness in him. His face was enough. "...and listen to the music of the night."

His feelings were too fast and too new, and yet he had so much to tell her, to convince her of. He released her hand and retreated to the sanctuary that his pipe organ offered. The peace that he always found when he played the instrument encircled him.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams." He whirled around to face her, passion coloring his voice. "Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before."

Swallowing the intensity he felt and gentling his voice, he took a step toward Christine. "Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar."

A thrill shuddered through him and lifted the corners of his mouth when he saw Christine's eyelids flutter closed for a moment. He could give her a thousand of those moments, if only she would let him.

Emotion made his voice shake as he reached a hand toward the graceful woman before him. "And you'll live as you've never lived before."

He drew her up the steps, her foot falls landing on each word. "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you." He lowered his forehead to Christine's, half-temped to brush his lips against hers. The memory of his only attempt to kiss his mother flashed across his mind, leaving painful echoes, and he pulled away.

He turned a small circle around her, locking his gaze onto hers. "Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight…" He looked away, across the expanse of the water surrounding his lair. "…the darkness of the music of the night."

He stepped away from her and behind a row of candles that sputtered in the damp air. His heart gave a little leap to see that her eyes followed him, overflowing with desire. He let his voice grow bold, even arrogantly so.

"Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be!" His voice echoed off the walls magnificently.

Following an impulse he didn't quite understand, he drew close to Christine once more, running his hands along her perfect, smooth jaw. There were her lips again, as undeniable as summer's first fruits, but this time, he was ready for the temptation, and stopped himself from capturing her mouth with his. "Only then, can you belong to me."

He drew her close to him, and pressed her back up against his chest. He loved the feel of her in his arms. With her this close, he almost felt like the man she needed him to be.

"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication." He ran a gloved hand along her corset, the leather sliding along the fabric as willingly as the song from his mouth. Her soft curls brushed up against his mask as he raised her hand to his other cheek, this one uncovered and unmarred.

"Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation." It was almost more than he could bear to have her palm against his face. Her flesh did more than warm his skin; it set a fire deep within his soul, with a beautiful force that both plundered and restored. Only able to withstand her bare touch for so long, he curled her fingers over his and began leading her down another set of steps. An idea touched his mind even as he continued to sing.

"Let the dream begin…" He glanced behind to stare her right in the eye and watch his words sink into her. It seemed they did, like a hot knife into butter. "Let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write…" he let his voice grow broad and deep. "…the power of the music of the night."

As they passed a music stand covered in disorganized score, he passed her hand to his other, and again allowed himself to indulge in drinking in her beauty. Her skin was creamy, her eyes wide and thickly lashed. What made her beautiful, though, were her smile and her look of adoration as she lifted her face toward him.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed back the curtain that hid his latest creation. He had designed it himself, laboring over the sketches until the drawing was perfect. He had given it to Madame Giry to see that it made it to the proper place, and a few weeks later, she had delivered it to him.

His creation, a stunning white dress, shimmered and flowed in all the right places. He had immediately hung it on the mannequin in the small recess in the cavern's wall, afraid to wrinkle the exquisite material. Now he showed it to Christine, directing her with his eyes to look at it.

Almost immediately he realized his mistake. He felt her jerk, and then she collapsed in a dead faint so fast he barely had time to catch her. He cradled her light form close to his chest, her cheek resting lightly on his bicep.

He had pushed her too hard. He had begged for her to accept him, and it was too much. Why he thought he could convince her in one night, he didn't know. As overwhelmed with emotion and confusion as the woman in his arms, he carried her over to his bed.

As he lay her down on the crimson velvet coverlet, he couldn't resist stroking her smooth cheek one more time. "You alone can make my song take flight." The words were more a prayer than a song.

He straightened, his gaze still locked on her face. He briefly glanced up to find the pull cord to lower the privacy curtain, and then let his eyes travel back to Christine. "Help me make the music of the night." He held the note high and strong as the curtain descended, leaving a thin but still manageable barrier between his lady and himself.