Author's note: This little one-shot came to me after watching some delicious POTO. If only the poor phantom had thought about what he was doing...how he was changing his and Christine's relationship by appearing to her...

Let me set the stage for you. This is all from Erik's perspective, the night of Hannibal and Christine performs, Raoul sees her and then...

~0~0~0~

Erik

Christine was brilliant in her first stage performance. That temperamental, screeching cow, La Carlotta, had been seamlessly replaced with a chorus dancer. Hopefully the embarrassment would keep La Vache away for longer than usual.

No one was aware of the star they had hidden among the twirling tutus. Christine had been taking voice lessons from none other than the Angel of Music and I'd been planning for some time to replace that horrid excuse for a diva with my one and only pupil. Carlotta's latest fit provided the perfect opportunity.

The house was still applauding ten minutes after the finale. Such praise had never been shown in all the years I had dwelled here. I fairly glowed with accomplishment and pride. They were praising my student and through her, me. She was sheer perfection in every aspect because of mymeticulous training.

I hurried to the mirror, eager for our appointed meeting time. The lessons had been going on for some time now and what had started as a way to comfort a mourning child had slowly begun to comfort me as well. Christine was a dear, sweet girl and though I tried to keep things professional, I found myself conversing with her more and more. Strict musical guidance had softened into easy visiting times. Conversations of her dreams and fears had begun to fill my empty heart and true companionship had grown between us.

It was foolish of me to allow myself to grow so fond of her but it was impossible to stop the spread of emotion. She was a glowing, innocent creature who gazed with joy and wonder around her room whenever I spoke to her in my oppressive Angel's voice. How could I not engage her when she herself was so engaging?

Tonight, Christine's Angel would have a few critiques but mostly praise for her. I didn't often indulge in giving her praise as it would lead to slovenly training habits, but tonight I would make an exception. She was an elemental force of nature on that stage as her voice reverberated through the grand halls of myopera. Everyone had been stunned by the unknown talent. She was my secret star. She glowed for me.

Meg was in Christine's room with her and they chatted excitedly, hugging, twirling and laughing, but I didn't really pay attention to their conversation. Christine was radiant. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes shone with happiness. I was so taken with her that I imagined I could whisk aside the mirror, take her in my arms, and congratulate her as everyone else had that night.

But I was not like everyone else. I sighed and my heart squeezed as I gazed at my solitary, innocent girl while she smiled gaily at Meg. I hoped her debut would not change her too much. She was my only companion and I shuddered to think that one day she may depart the opera house and leave me alone again.

Could I not keep her like this forever?

Foolish thoughts and foolish begging...

Meg finally left and Christine changed from her costume behind the dressing screen while I looked politely away. When I heard her pick up her hairbrush I turned back, eager to watch her comb the unruly, luxurious mane. How I longed to touch her curly locks, to inhale the feminine scent that surely rose from them, but I was confined to my proper place. Hidden. Deformed. A monster.

A knock sounded on her door and we both jumped at the sound. Christine stared at the door for a few seconds before heaving a small sigh and stood to open it cautiously. A young, handsome man burst into the room and enveloped her in his arms.

White hot, angry jealousy tore through me. She was mine! What was that fresh faced, flower bearing fop doing in my place? He barely looked old enough to shave, let alone call on my Christine!

And she was smiling at him! Laughing!

I was practically pressed to the glass, grinding my teeth in rage when I noticed she was politely declining his invitation to dinner. She pulled away to a proper distance and I reminded myself to breathe.

Once I had taken a few calming breaths I realized that I did not have any right to get so upset. Christine only knew me as a voice, as an Angel. I'd implemented a rule that she not encourage any courtiers simply because I wanted her at every lesson if I was taking the time to climb to her mirror. Now however, I was beginning to wonder if that was my only reason. I had always thought of her as mine, and mine alone, but this boy obviously knew her. He probably had designs on courting her too! Why else would he bring her that ridiculously large bouquet of garish flowers?

I decided right then that any outside influence on my sweet girl was a direct threat to our continuing relationship. A flesh and blood man could easily come and sweep her off her feet with romantic words and prettier flowers. Even this preening boy right here could steal her away from me. I had to be careful in how I handled Christine after this boy's visit. I would have to choose my words before I spoke to Christine. I did not want to become angry with her for something that was obviously this scrawny excuse for a young man's fault.

I stood away from the mirror and glared at the boy, sending angry mental thoughts his way. Leave now!

There was no way that my innocent angel had invited this pansy to come to her room. I sneered at his elaborate purple and green velvet vest but my eyes were drawn back to Christine.

She was smiling, but I noticed it was not the bright, ecstatic smile that my voice brought to her face. Hope fluttered in my chest.

Could she care for me, as only a voice, more than she cared for this handsome, young, rich boy...who prattled incessantly?

Leave now, Boy!

Ah, finally he made to depart, but she allowed him to kiss her cheek and my anger flared inside me once more. After waiting just long enough to ensure he would be out of ear shot, I raged at her in my booming Angel's voice for breaking my rules. She was mine and no one else's! No mortal man was allowed to touch what was mine! Next time she would slam the door in his face to appease me.

She collapsed to the floor and begged my forgiveness. "Oh Angel, he means nothing to me. There is only room for you in my heart. He is just an old friend. Please, forgive me. Please, I will send him away if he comes again, I swear it. He is nothing! You are everything. Please. You are everything to me!"

I was stunned silent by her passionate plea. I was everything to her? I suddenly had an epiphany of gargantuan proportions. Christine loved me.

As an Angel of course, but still, love is love, is it not? And this burning jealousy at the thought of some other man stealing her from me surely meant I loved her too. There was no way I could compete fairly with any man, boy or fop who set his sights on Christine. However, I was an Angel and that meant I had the higher ground...

"Angel, please!" she sobbed, "Angel..." her delicate back racked with the strength of her grief. She was devastated at the thought that I would leave her and my chest ached in an unfamiliar way.

How could I ever leave her? She was all that was important in my life.

It was time to take our relationship to the next level. I would never give her up and there was only one way I could snare my little innocent. I was an intelligent man. I could handle this calmly and with the proper grace to turn things to my favor.

I let myself fall against the mirror loudly enough so she could hear and then fell to the floor of the tunnel cursing quietly, but not too offensively. I was supposed to by an Angel after all...well a former Angel...

"Christine?" I spoke in my normal voice with no booming echo as I patted the mirror. "Christine?"

Her tear filled eyes rose to the full length mirror, "Angel?" She stood slowly and came to the mirror, lifting one hand to touch the surface.

"Oh, Christine..."

"Your voice...it sounds so different and...it's coming from my mirror?"

"I know..." I paused for effect. "I think I may have done something...rash..."

"It sounds like you are right there..." her palm pressed to the mirror with wonder on her face and I placed my hand over hers enjoying the precious look. Such innocence, wonder, joy and what certainly looked like love, mingled in her eyes.

"I am right here, Christine," my voice was soft and encouraging.

"How?" she took her hand back, her eyes growing wide.

"I gave up my wings for you, Christine."

Her eyes widened even more and she covered her mouth with both hands as tears filled her eyes once again. Never have I seen someone look so happy and sad all at the same time.

"Angel..." it was muffled and I laughed gently.

"I am no longer an Angel, Christine. I am only a man." Joy flickered on her face but confusion returned to reign.

"But how can you speak from within my mirror?"

"I am behind it. There appears to be a tunnel of some sort, but I can see you. Oh, with true human eyes I can finally see you, Christine."

I was an evil man, was I not? But apparently, all was fair when dealing in love or war. And this was both!

"Why can I not see you?" Her exquisite voice whined the slightest degree and the instructor in me wanted to reprimand her. I swallowed that instinct down and looked around trying to imagine what it would feel like to be dropped into this situation.

"I do not know. What appears to be a window for me must be the other side of your mirror. The reflective glass is keeping you from seeing me and...that may be for the best. I fear...I can not allow you to see me..." I trailed off as she appeared to look quite upset.

"What? Why ever not? Why would you give up your wings...for me...and not..." she did not know how to explain and I had a few more devious ideas up my sleeve.

"I should have known," I moaned bitterly.

"Known what? Please, Angel!" She pressed her hands to the glass.

"I am not an Angel anymore!" I snapped, angry that she hadn't grasped that important part yet, but then I cringed at my angry words. I suppose a small amount of anger was acceptable. She had heard my anger before and should realize that becoming a man would not have changed my overall personality. A fallen angel should be allowed some anger towards God and I certainly had that in droves.

"Then what should I call you?" She was concentrating on the conversation, which is more than I could say for myself.

Come now, Erik. Stay focused.

"I don't know," I said softly. "You could give me a name," I offered.

"Don't...don't you have a name?"

"I was once called Erik, but that was a long time ago. I have been an Angel for...many years."

"Erik?" she smiled, "I like that name."

Oh, she was sweeter than honey and so close to being mine forever...

For what girl would ever leave a man who had once been her Angel?

"So..." she tapped the glass with her fingertips, "How do you get from where you are to here?"

"I do not know, but I already told you, my lo...Christine. You do not wish to truly see me."

"Of course I do Ang...Erik!" she looked slightly panicked but so radiantly gleeful. "I've waited for so long to see you, to touch you. I've prayed every night for this and finally you are here! I feel...I feel like I am so close to you and yet infinitely far away. Please..." Her hand trailed down the mirror.

"I am not sure how to reach you."

Her eyes searched the perimeter of the mirror. "Can we just break it?"

"You do not know what you are asking, Christine. He took payment for my request."

"Who?" Her face scrunched in the most adorable manner. "The Lord? What do you mean?"

"He was angry that I would leave his service for a human. I was one of God's own angels, his one and only Angel of Music and I...I'm such a fool. This can never be..." I choked up a little.

"What? Please, Erik, Angel, this is driving me mad. You are right there! I'm breaking this glass." I stepped away from the mirror as she toppled the candles from the candlestick holder and hefted it to feel the weight.

"Such drastic measures are unnecessary, my dear," I hastily reassured her. "I have found a lever of sorts. I believe it opens this passageway, but are you certain you wish to see me?"

"Press it!" She eagerly put down the heavy object and turned her shining eyes to the glass. She most certainly loved me.

"Not just yet, my sweet. As I said...a price was taken for my desire to be with you. It's as if he did not want you to love me."

"What? What did the Lord take from you?"

"He took my face." Christine went still on the other side of the glass.

"What?" She looked unsure and slightly frightened.

"He has made me...horribly ugly. I can feel it...and you...you will hate me."

"No Angel!" her eyes widened dramatically, "I could never hate you!" She pressed her hands and cheek to the glass as if trying to hug me through the thick pane. "Please...please, Erik...my Angel...please, please, please," she begged for me.

"I am disfigured. It is truly terrible and you Christine, you are so very beautiful." I was realizing that my acting skills were quite good. I momentarily thought about acting on stage with Christine. My character could wear a mask and she and I could sing an opera of my creation about our passion and love for each other.

Focus, Erik! Do not get ahead of yourself. I concentrated on Christine's muffled words.

"Angel, I loved you as only a voice. I would love you with any face you chose to have."

"I would never have chosen this. I don't even want you to look at me, as much as I yearned to have you look...Oh, Christine...it was all for naught..."

"Have faith in me, Erik," she stroked the glass. "Have faith in my heart," she whispered and I decided it was time for the moment of truth. I stripped off my mask and wig and tossed them aside. This would work or she would faint, and even then she may still become accustomed to my hideous face.

I pressed the lever and the mirror slid silently away. My eyes stayed down as I waited for her to move or scream. She stepped forward timidly into the dark tunnel.

"You truly are real," she whispered and reached to touch me. The mirror closed behind her and she pulled back as she found herself trapped in the dark with a strange man. "Angel?"

I sighed softly, my shoulders sagging to hide some of my intimidating height. "Please Christine, do not call me that anymore. I can never be your Angel again." I half turned away, but she came to me and took my hand. We both looked down at our hands, mine was gloved but her touch was warm and I thought I should have maybe taken off the gloves as well.

"You're wearing gloves?" She traced the back of my hand with one slender finger and my mouth opened at the rush her touch sent through me.

I swallowed with difficulty, "I suppose it is a good thing the Lord deemed to dress me at all."

Her fingers gently felt the fabric of my jacket and I tried to keep talking, "It appears I am fully dressed for the opera." My head was swimming with the sensation of her touch. She was so gentle and so warm, I tried not to lean towards her but I could feel myself doing it anyway. I was tired of being so cold...

"Your jacket is all dirty," she began brushing the sleeve and worked her way around to my back. "What do you usually wear?"

I couldn't think of an appropriate response. "Nothing," I managed to get out and then internally cursed myself as she said 'oh' very quietly and her hands hesitated on their path of cleanliness. She continued brushing the dirt from my jacket in precise, gentle, but crisp sweeps, working her way around me. Her hands slowed at my chest and they spread out as if to feel all they could. My heart was thumping rather hard and I'm sure she could feel it pounding down the center of my being. She still hadn't looked in my eyes and I waited with trepidation for that final bridge to be crossed. Instead her eyes closed and Christine leaned towards me, letting first her forehead and then her cheek rest on my chest. Her arms wrapped around me and she hugged me tight, sighing in contentment. Her warm, soft body felt utterly divine next to mine.

I swallowed and gently put my arms around her as I'd wished I could from the first moment I heard her cry.

"Christine..." I felt breathless and she sighed again.

"You gave up your wings for me."

"I did."

"Why?" Her voice was tiny.

"Is it not obvious? I love you." Our words echoed in the dark tunnel.

"I love you too," she breathed.

"But my face..." I whispered as I drunkenly inhaled the floral scent of her hair.

"Nothing would make me turn from you, my Angel," her hands fisted in the fabric of my jacket. "You will be mine forever."

Her suggestion sounded marvelous to me but I thought she should look at this abomination of a face the Lord gave me before making such a pledge.

"Look at me, Christine," I said softly, pulling away so she could run or faint as she saw fit. Her hands dropped away from me and her curly hair swung forward as her head bowed. "It is terrible, I can not lie to you, but maybe...if your love is strong enough..."

"It is!" She stomped her foot defiantly.

"Then look!" My voice sounded a lot like the Angel voice as it boomed around us and her face suddenly lifted to take in my countenance. I think I looked a little frightened as her eyes swept over my face, the parchment-like, mottled skin, the sunken eyes, my missing nose...but her eyes boldly met mine with tears glimmering within.

"You are beautiful to behold" Tears trailed down her face as I covered my own.

"Surely you jest." Her hands were quick to pull mine from my face and our fingers curled into each others like they were familiar friends.

"It is not a jest," her voice was sure. "I told you I loved you as only a voice for so long. To see you..." her hand trailed over my cheek lovingly. "To see you before me is my most fervent wish come true. For you to hold me..."

"I wish to hold you," I whispered, weak for her in a way that I couldn't explain. Now that I'd held her once, I wanted to hold her, cradle her and take in her scent forever and ever and never stop.

Was our love so strong that my face meant nothing?

Her eyes were boring into mine with an intensity that I'd never seen in her before. My skin tingled with her nearness and I tilted her face up to mine.

"I've never kissed anyone before," I warned her as our lips inched closer.

"Neither have I." Her hands crept to my lapels and I cupped her face in both hands like she was a delicate chalice of water. I was parched from living a life with no love, no acceptance, not even any physical contact. Yet here, this radiant creature lifted her lips to mine so I could taste them. I tried to remind myself to not drink too deeply.
"Christine..." our eyes were still locked, as if either one of us looking away would dispel this fantastic heavenly miracle. "I've waited so long to touch you."

"Angel..." Her eyes fluttered shut as my mouth covered hers. Perfection rang through me. Perfection, love, lust, wonder, joy, satisfaction and a tiny amount of guilt that quickly vanished as Christine swept her hands over my meager amount of hair to pull me closer. We kissed and my hands wandered down through her hair and over her back. Her lips were eager and warm and soft and sweet and her hands pressed our faces together tightly so that stopping was not an option.

Our first kiss...

She pulled back abruptly and her wide eyes searched my deformed face as we both panted lightly.

"What...what happens now?" she whispered and the part of me that had no right claiming to be an Angel, fallen or otherwise, wanted to say something very naughty but I got down on one knee and took her hand.

"Will you marry me, Christine?"

Her brilliant smile was all the answer I needed.