Author's Note: Okay, Chapter One! Woo! Now, let's get those reviews in! Good or bad, love it or hate it, tell me. I want to know how I can change it all up and make it better. Thanks again guys. =)

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... blah blah blah...

Chapter One: Remember Me

"Nathalie, wake up, you bum! Sing your lines!" An old man's voice shouted at me.

I sighed and leaned against a barrel that was a prop for my scene. I rolled my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, something I did often.

"What if I don't want to sing them? Hmm? What if I want to dance and throw this at your face?" I shouted at him, pushing myself off the barrel and kicking it away from me.

All of the other actors and actresses were standing around backstage, watching as I threw another one of my temper tantrums. I had on a black cashmere sweater with long sleeves that I was now chewing on whenever I was nervous.

"If you refuse, I will make sure you never act in Paris ever again! Now, sing!" He shouted at me, his face becoming beat red with frustration. Even though he sat in the darkness of the audience, I could see the man about to explode.

I stood up straight, threw the packet of paper on the floor and placed my hands on my hips.

"The hills are alive, with the sound of music

With songs they have sung, for a thousand years!"

I finished, my voice a perfect alto pitch but, the director shaking his head.

"No! I want Soprano! Not Alto! Higher!" He screamed, grabbing his hair and shouting in french.

"You know what, I don't sing Soprano, never have, never will! Get Maryse to do it!" I shouted, throwing my hand toward her as she stared at me with hard eyes.

"Yes, monsieur, I will sing the part. At least I can sing it." She spat out, glaring at me.

I looked away and stalked off stage, turning to the exit.

"If you leave, I will never let you back!" The director shouted, his brown eyes narrowed to slits.

I pushed the door open and walked out into the night, the wind as dead as the street I was walking down. I had no idea why that madman decided to make us practice at two in the morning, it was unbelievable.

My ballet slippers crunched in the blanket of snow as I walked down the deserted street. I held my shoulders as I watched my breath as I continued walking. It had been almost a week since that random dream I had with the masked man, but it felt so real. When I had gotten to my flat, I had finger marks on my neck. I just assumed I drank too much and did it to myself, so I blew off the bruises. But, it had felt so real. Those eyes that had burned a hole into my soul and that handsome face that made me blush and get butterflies in the very pit of my stomach.

Even though having quit probably the biggest play of my life, I don't understand why I did it. My heart was breaking as I realized I should just die and quit right here and now.

I threw my hands up in the air and shouted. My throat was producing an eerie yell, something like a song. I dropped my hands and ceased the weird noise.

"If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a, bed of roses

Sink me in the river, at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song"

I sang, my heart aching to continue.

"Sing..." A whisper sounded out through the alley way I had just walked into.

I froze, my heart stopping and rising in my throat. I looked around, looking for the intruder of my song. My eyes wondered up to a rooftop where I saw a gargoyle sit.

"No." I said, continuing my walk just a tad faster than I would normally do.

I still watched the gargoyle and as I began my run, a cap waved to me in the end, and the body of a man began to rise. The moonlight, bright in all of it's glory, displayed on this man like he was so regal. A pure white mask, graced the right side of his face and the light glistened off the slick black hair. He looked down at me and my hands traveled up to my throat.

I spun around and ran back the way I came, back down the alley to any life still awake at this hour. My breaths were becoming short as I heard another pair of footsteps running after mine. I looked back and saw the cape wildly flailing in the wind as he ran behind me, a good twenty feet separated us.

I felt like life ended when my shoe caught on my black skirt and as I watched the snow-covered ground get closer, I braced myself for death in mere minutes. My hands brought themselves up immediately to my face, my knees hitting first and the cold snow now burying itself in the heat of my face. I heard my scream as I feel, as if I were not in my body. I lay there, my face still in my hands. I tried to push myself up, my palms hurting and cut from the tiny rocks that were hidden beneath the snow.

"You think you can run from me?" He said, his voice bouncing off the brick walls in the alley.

I rolled over and saw the face of death. So cold, lifeless as he stared at me. Tears started streaming from my eyes. "Who are you?" I asked between the short breaths trying to settle me down.

"I am the one who will bring you to your knees. I am the Angel of Music." He said, walking up to me with his legs on either side of my stomach. His fierce green eyes burning me.

"Angel of Music? What are you, a poet for little children?" I spat out.

He dropped onto me, his cape covering the both of us as he grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head, his lips a few inches from mine. The hot breath he gave was so soothing, so inviting.

"I've been watching you, your voice. You are the one that I need," he brought his lips so they were guiding themselves across my cheek. "the one I need, your voice..." he whispered, kissing my lips.

I tried to scream now, turning and trying to kick my legs until I felt a pill being pushed into my mouth. My eyes opened wide, the pill was dissolving and my vision was turning black. I tried pushing it out, trying to spit it back into his. His hand left my wrist as his other hand grabbed it and held them both. His free hand grabbed my face, pressing my cheeks together to my mouth. I felt the last bit of pill dissolve, the flavor tasting like a piece of old shoe.

"Don't fight it, you're mine," he said, releasing me and standing up, watching me.

I rolled over and coughed. I stuck my finger down my throat and tried to throw up, my body only producing dry heaves. I knew I should have drank something or ate before I went to rehearsal. I grunted, tossing my arm to the side and stood up, feeling light headed and nauseous. I stumbled over to one of the brick buildings and leaned against it, feeling my legs giving up.

I looked at him, my eyelids dropping down but, I kept them open as best as I could. My breathing was becoming wheezes, as I pressed my shoulder against the wall. I stared at his body as he walked closer to me, his steps even as he touched my face with his gloved hand. It wasn't cold like I thought it would be, but a warm touch that made me groan under it's touch.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I wheezed out, looking at him.

"You, you have seen my face and you shall not escape." He stated, taking his hand away from my face.

"I've never seen your face," I said, now sinking to the cold snow once more, much more gently this time.

"You've seen me, been where no one else has. I shall make you pay," he said as my eyes closed and I felt my body rise.

…

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

I awoke to singing and realized I was in the same bed as before, but now, my hand was chained to a post on the wall behind the bed. I yanked at it and pulled with all of my might, stronger from when I was here last. I remembered exactly where that door was to get out into the street above but, this band on my wrist was beginning to dig into my porcelain skin and I get feel if I pulled hard once more, I might rip the flesh.

"I see you're awake now, mademoiselle."

"Don't call me that. Why am I chained here like a prisoner? I have done nothing wrong to you! I don't even know you!" I shouted at him, my throat sore. I used my free hand to rub my throat, trying to soothe it as much as I could.

He didn't respond, he was sitting at a desk with a quill in his hand and the sound of scratching could be heard.

"Hey! Answer me!" I shouted again, much louder and higher pitched than what I had intended.

He spun around, his glare now at me. He stood up and walked towards me, his coat and jacket off, leaving him only in his white dress shirt with the top and second button opened. His hair was still as slick as it was when we were in the alley; so black, so alike in mine. He ended up next to me, his face looking down at mine.

"I'll make you great, much better than those fools you work with at all hours of the night. You have a voice, waiting to be released; and I shall be the one to help you." His voice, so velvet in it's pitch, it was hard to keep being upset.

"And what if I do not want your help?" I spat out angrily, barring my teeth at him.

"Then, you'll die." His threat actually frightened me.

"As if I'm afraid. You see me? I've had the worst life you could ever imagine! You saved me that night a week ago when I was trying to rid the world of me! Who wants someone who can't even hold a high note five seconds? I cannot work for I have no education. I lost all of my friends due to the fact that they thought I was a paramour. I lost the man I loved because I'm not pretty enough-"

"I know all of these things, I've seen them." He interrupted.

My heart dropped into my stomach. Watching me? How could he have been watching me?

"Are you scared now? Do I scare you, watching you all these years?" He began to slowly walk back and forth with his eyes still barring down on me. The soft hairs on his chest were peaking out of the white dress shirt. He paced himself while walking and looking at me.

"You scare me now, yes! But, all of these years? You make no sense." I said, pulling myself to sit up on the bed instead of laying down.

"The Opera Populaire, 1871, the infamous fire that was caused the mysterious masked man. Oh, how long ago those days were." His voice trailed off into sarcasm as he hissed them at me.

I remembered that fire perfectly, still fresh in my mind...

…

"Mama, I shall be back, I'm going to run to get some ribbon for the Saint Valentine's dance at the school." I shouted, my hand turning the doorknob of our front door. I was only eight, yet, my mother trusted me in going out into the streets.

"Be back in an hour; it shouldn't take that long anyways." She said back, still standing at the stove continuing to make that delicious stew I loved so.

I ran outside as I wrapped my coat around my body and ran through the main streets, making sure to avoid any alleyways as much as possible. I looked around; there were more police men out here than usual and a slew of commotion followed the street in front of me.

Curious as I was, I ran towards the screams and shouts, the yelling of the officers and the vulgar comments the higher class men and women shouted. I pushed past them, my black hair gently falling over my shoulder as I looked at the sight ahead of me. The Opera house was on fire, and it was raging into the deep purple sky. All sorts of people were fleeing from the house but, I was running in. My mother and her brother had taken me here once before to see the wonderful work of Christine Daae' sing in place of La Carlotta. We were taken back by the sudden change, but we fell in love instantly, or at least I did. I practiced over and over again, trying to sing like her. My mother and her brother would never pay attention.

But, here it was: the Opera Populaire, burning. My heart was wrenching as I ran past the officers who tried keeping people back. Thank goodness for my short height at the time so I could slip past them. I ran towards the exit, searching for a door so I could look inside one last time. The fire had only consumed the right side, slowly growing over to the left. I shook my head and pressed on, forgetting about the danger. I threw off my coat on the snow-covered ground and headed for the door until it was thrown open and a man in a white shirt and black pants came stumbling out.

He looked at me, his right side of his face destroyed and his hair going from a light brown to dark brown wisps in the light breeze of the night. He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed as if he had been crying. His hand immediately shot up to the right side of his face, covering the deformity. A scowl came over his face.

"Leave, child! Did you want to see the Devil's Child also and make jokes of me, too?" He hissed at me, new tears streaking down his face.

"N-No, Monsieur, I came only to see the fire. Are you hurt?" I said softly, walking forward to him to check if he was alright. I held my hands up, which reached only to the top of his stomach. He knelt down and looked at me, curiosity and a hint of fear came across his face, or the part he was showing.

I touched the left side of his face, and his eyes closed instantly, melding into my warm hands. I grabbed his right hand and touched it, letting him know it was okay. His hand fell slowly, revealing the disfigurement. I didn't move, didn't react the way most probably did. I smiled, and touched lightly at the red burn-looking marks on his face.

"I am a monster," he whispered, looking into my bright blue eyes with his light green.

"No, no person is a monster. Come, I have food at my home. You must be hungry." I smiled, taking my hands away from his face and grabbing my coat that was covered in a few specks of snow.

A loud bang came from the doorway the man came out of, a group of people were shouting and the glimmer of light began to grow from the doorway.

"No, child. You must go. Thank you for the kindness you have shown me; I shall never forget you." He said quickly. His voice so comforting. He grabbed my hand and kissed the top of it, a light tingle surging through my nerves before disappearing into the night.

…

"You're the man." I gasped, holding my free hand to my lips. I looked at him with new eyes, remembering the night we had met and the police searching for him. I still felt a tingle on my hand as I thought about his warm kiss that cold night.

"Yes, now you remember." He gave a small smile, stopping at the edge of the bed and sitting down, looking at me. His gloved hand touched my face, caressing the soft cheek. I fell into that hand, feeling the warmth radiating off of it.

"For eighteen years I have watching you and now, the way you have been treated over those years, I'm going to make you a better singer, actor and person, in general." He said, removing his hand from my face and bringing me out of euphoria.

"And capturing someone and fastening them to a bed is the definition of a better person?" I snapped back, watching his facial expression turn from care to annoyance in a split second.

He stepped away from the bed and walked back to his desk and took his seat, picking up the quill and dipping it in the black ink. He began to write on the paper that was already on the table and as he continued to write, I was able to loosen the metal chain that was wrapped around my wrist and slip my hand through it.

I rubbed the flesh, looking at the red indents the metal gave to me. I turned my feet over the side of the bed, gently laying my feet on the stone ground.

"Going somewhere?" He said, not even turning his head to look at me. He had stopped writing and had listened as I maneuvered around the bed.

I began to stand, taking my shoes off and letting my bare feet touch the freezing stone. A huge shiver ran through my spine and I gasped a tad when goosebumps began to rise. I watched as he pushed the chair back and heard as it scrapped amongst the stone. He turned towards me, his eyes looking at me as if he were trying to look into my soul.

"I have missed you, Nathalie. That night, your young heart and innocence captured my torn heart," he began to walk towards me and as I watched him get closer and closer, my heart didn't speed up because of the fear, but because I, too, was remembering that night and how he looked and how I didn't shun him away. His hands grabbed my face, bringing my eyes to look into his. "you made me want to write music for myself, not for a voice who wasn't going to love me. Thank you." He smiled and kissed the top of my forehead, taking away the freight for a few moments.

"You alone can make my song take flight," he sang to me, his voice so warm as his breath grazed my forehead.

"Help me make the music of the night." I finished for him, looking into his bright green and blue eyes.

They looked at me with shock and a hint of happiness. I smiled and flashbacks of the man knelling before me in the snow outside the burning Opera Populaire popped into my head eighteen years later. His green flickered with a hint of blue, showing me the true beauty in his eyes.

Why? Why had it been almost two decades until he finally said hello again? He had been so magnificent when I had seen him the first time. Even with his deformity, he looked so handsome. I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt him tense from such close contact. I stood on my tip toes as I tried to get a better view of his face, half-hidden with the white plaster mask. His slick black hair was still so smooth while mine was becoming tousled from the bit of moisture in the air coming from the lake. It held a light layer of fog and I looked away from the lake and back at him.

"Even at eight years old, you still haven't changed." My lips slipped out, but they were covered with his lips as I closed the gap between us. I pulled him into me, letting him wrap his arms around my body and hold me securely to his, as if I were going to fall or was gonna be pulled away.

The way his lips felt over mine, so plump as they caressed my cold ones, warming them with sensuality. He pulled away but, held onto me still, looking into my icy blue eyes.

"Say you'll stay with me, one love, one lifetime," he lightly sang into my hair, running his gloved hand through the raven black hair.

"Say the word and I will follow you," I sang back, placing my hands on his cheeks, one hand on the mask and the other on his soft skin.

Each of us breathe together as one, our chests together. I look down at his chest, the prominent muscles trying to escape the white shirt. He holds my sides, looking down at my chest as our breathing matches perfectly.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too

Love me, that's all I ask of you." We sang together, our harmonized voices echoing through-out the underground lair.

I smile at him, finally realizing that all he wanted was love and kindness and here I was, standing in front of him, showing him all of that. Though he kidnapped me from the alley and though I was very apprehensive about even talking to him, remembering that night made my life seem important now.

Never will there be a night where I will be lonely, asking questions to the open air or bashing my head against a hard pillow to make my life go by faster or get it over with quicker. The night I was drinking myself to death, he saved me and took me out of the cold, loved me and watched over me for so long.

"I promise I'll always be yours," I whispered in his ear, feeling his hands grip tighter to my sides and the feeling of his lips kissing my neck.

A/N: Okay, I don't take credit for the songs. "The Hills Are Alive" from the Sound of Music. "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry. "The Music of the Night" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. "All I Ask of You" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. More to come guys! Thanks!