Author notes - Lyrics are from Celine Dion's Alone. I recommend listening to this song before you read. I was amazed how perfectly her lyrics fit with the theme of POTO. I haven't written for quite a while, but I felt so inspired to write this oneshot today. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic is based on the 2004 movie and diverges from one of my favourite scenes. Perhaps this post will prompt me into posting a longer fic I have in the works.

Where You Are Tonight

I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone
And the night goes by so very slow
Oh I hope that it won't end though
Alone

He sat in darkness, with only the silence to comfort him. His heart ached with a pain too deep to measure; a loneliness that was born of rejection and persecution. Far above his dark kingdom resided an angel that he could not touch. Even now, he could still hear her clear, perfect voice echoing in his mind. It was a voice he had so carefully shaped over the years, in the guise of an angel. He could remember the time when he first heard her sing upon the stage, coerced by her young friend, Meg. Hers was a voice filled with a pain not so very different from his. But it was even before that when he felt a strange sympathy in his heart. He remembered when Antoinette had first brought the young orphan to live in the opera house. He had seen that pain at that time. When she cried out in the night to her angel of music, an angel her father had guided her to, he seized the opportunity to help the child.

But the years had changed the circumstances. She was no longer a child. Christine Daae was a young woman. Her voice had been molded under his tutelage and now reflected the awesome beauty of its bearer. A woman now. He could not pull his thoughts from her. He had watched many times, hidden behind the mirror of her dressing room, as she brushed out her long dark curls before her vanity. His hand ached to touch the soft curls, but he knew that he could not. He could never reveal to her the monster that loved her from afar.

He swallowed the remainder of his drink and hurled the glass in rage against the wall. He could never possess such beauty. He could never know what it was to be loved. He had survived for years without the love of a woman, and he could certainly survive many more without. There was music, and art, and also architecture that had fired his spirit for so long. But he suddenly knew that he was lying to himself.

Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone

Once he had listened to her clear, angelic voice, he was forever doomed to love her. Once he had looked upon her lovely face with its large, brown eyes and soft lips, he knew he would never be the same again. The silence of his dwelling was overwhelming; deafening to his ears in its magnitude. Down here, in the darkness, he could not quell the fire in his blood. She ignited a dormant emotion in his being and it had built upon itself until it became something so powerful, even he could not defeat it.

He realized that nothing would ever suppress the agony in his heart. He would die with this pain buried deep within his chest. That prospect was more than even he could bear. In a split second, he knew what he must do. He had come this far, molded her voice with his exceptional skill, and possessed her soul through music even if she did not know it. Take one more step, and he could possess her forever. He would no longer be alone in this world. He had never been alone since she had come.

But how. . .how to bring his angel those last few steps into his arms? If music had first brought her to him, surely it would finish its task.

He leaped from his chair, donned a heavy dark cloak, and escaped his realm by means of a gondola. The journey to the mirror was long, but he did not even notice. His mind was moving at a pace so fast, conjuring every outcome and every possibility. The heart that had been forgotten was burning fiercely now. He could feel her presence even before he reached the mirror at the end of the long, musty corridor. But there was another presence that mocked his feelings. That boy, whose mere existence was a dagger to the heart, was in her dressing room urging her to go to dinner with him. Fool! How dare he look upon her in that way! I can feel my hands around his neck. Oh God, it is so tempting to slip through now and finish the task. But dutifully, his young protégé declined the invitation repeatedly and asked to be left alone. The young man was disappointed.

Alone at last.

The opera house was silent as the last ballet rat or stagehand found rest, tucked away in their warm beds. Silence descended upon the entire monument. Christine had slipped behind the changing screen for a few minutes, before emerging in a white nightgown and robe. The candles of the room illuminated her with a soft, ethereal glow.

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh
You don't know how long I have waited
And I was going to tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own

And my love for you is still unknown
Alone

His torture would end now! He could no longer bear the solitude. There she stood, as radiant as an angel. He longed to be like any man, and confidently pull her into his embrace, bestowing a soft kiss upon her lips. A monster! I am a monster! I would not be so restrained in my affections like a proper gentleman. I would ravage her, body and soul. She would be mine forever. I would consume all of her.

Suddenly, his voice erupted even before he could consciously stop it. He demanded her devotion and denounced the boy's affections. Anger streamed from his lips without thought. He raged inwardly at how she could so easily slip from his instructions. I will not let him have her! She is mine! She has always been mine! We two are more akin than anyone else in this world. We are one entity now!

His anger dissipated as he once again looked upon the young woman. She stood in the darkened room, the candlelight now extinguished, with her limbs trembling and her lovely eyes wide with fear. She begged for forgiveness and pleaded with him to reveal himself to her. She had always begged for that. Fear of the results had always prevented him from granting her wish. He did not want to feel the rejection. He could imagine the horror in her eyes when she would see his naked face, and cry out to her father for the real angel that was meant for her.

But now the boy presented an interesting problem. He would take her away from this carefully controlled world that had been created around her. She would be disillusioned, no longer captivated by the hauntingly beautiful and masculine voice that called to her from beyond. Christine would wish for the affections of a man and leave behind the childish notions of the angel of music. There was no other choice. He would have to do what he had been afraid of for so long. But the stimulus was enough to push away the fear and replace it with the anticipation of touching her for the first time.

Looking again at his angel, a soft sigh slipped from his lips. He did not wish her to fear him. She still trembled, awaiting the punishment that, in her own mind she knew, he would obviously deem necessary. Oh, my angel. My love. Do not fear me! Never fear me! I love you more than you will ever know. Do you not know? Do you not hear the love in my voice when I sing to you? If I were a better man, I would earn your love as I should. But time and circumstance does not allow me that luxury. I must act now.

Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone

She sang to him, begging him to come to her, and he could not refuse. There was no nothing he could refuse her, if she asked. His voice wrapped around hers, drawing her closer and closer to the mirror. His hands clenched in anticipation of holding her. The heart in his chest beat incessantly. Finally, the mirror slid away and he had taken her soft, slender hand and wrapped a gloved hand tenderly around it. She was with him! He led her carefully into his domain, glancing back repeatedly to remind himself that she still there, and was not a figment of his imagination. When he finally brought her to the kingdom beyond the lake, carefully prepared all this time for her arrival, he offered her a song of love.

She was warm with fever, flushed with a strange emotion that she had never felt before. It had begun the first time she had heard his voice, but did not come to fruition until now. Christine stood before her angel, a man cloaked in shadow with a power so extraordinary, that she felt terribly unworthy in his presence. The awkward child that had been painstakingly taught over the years stood trembling with this strange feeling before him.

Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone

A part of her felt betrayed; fooled into believing that such a man seemed an angel to her. What a foolish girl I am. He is merely a man. My mind was too littered with childish faerie tales. I believed the story that he created. He must think of me as such a naïve child. The song that he sang for her was more beautiful than any she had heard him sing before. When she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her back into his embrace, his hands wandering along her quaking body, she felt she would die in that moment. The part of her that had been missing all these years, unknowingly, had suddenly been filled by his presence.

Turning, she touched the exposed side of her angel's face, tracing her fingers along the strong jaw and soft, full lips. His eyes slipped closed for a moment before he led her once again to another part of his realm. A curtain was drawn back and before her, she saw herself arrayed in the finest of wedding dresses. Only, the waxen face was not truly hers. The vacant eyes were a mockery of hers. The vision of herself seemed like a reminder of her insignificance, her unworthiness of the strange genius behind her. She was as false as that waxen figure. She was a shell of a person. She would always be this shell

without him. Panic flooded her senses. He would leave her, just as her father had. His sweet, heavenly song was a final goodbye.

Darkness descended upon her and she felt her body slip to the floor, but did not feel the impact.

Awakening later, she found herself upon a silken bed surrounded by a curtain that lifted with the tug of a tassel. Confusion filled her mind. Had she really heard her angel sing to her as a man? Had she seen him in the flesh, felt him touch her?

Christine glided from the bed and into the candle-lit domain of her angel. He sat before an organ, composing a song she had never heard before. So immersed was he in his work, that he did not see her approach until she stood at his side, her small hand upon his shoulder. Thick, strong muscles moved under her touch as he coaxed the melody from the instrument. She had prayed for so long that her angel would come to her. Sinful and selfish thoughts had plagued her mind. Christine had wished for him to be a man and that his passionate voice would be directed at her in the way of a mortal man. Now, she could scarcely believe her senses. He was here in body, and not just spirit.

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh
You don't know how long I have waited
And I was going to tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own
And my love for you is still unknown
Alone

As the pressure of her touch increased, he turned in his seat and regarded her with his beautiful, piercing eyes. Her hand dropped away, as though she were ashamed of touching someone so magnificent. A tear fled her eye as the bitter emotions that had contributed to her collapse suddenly returned. She was utterly unworthy of him. He would leave her. This finally acknowledgement of her wish was a reminder of that. A sob followed, and she fell to her knees before him, weeping bitterly into her hands.

Large, strong hands encircled her wrists and gently drew her hands from her face. Stupid, stupid girl! Look at this horrid, childish, tear-stained face that I offer him. Please, send me away before I make more of a fool of myself. A finger caught her chin and tenderly drew it up so that her eyes were forced to meet his.

"Why do you cry?" she heard him ask, his rich, deep voice reverberating throughout her body.

"Forgive me," she wept. "I know you mean to leave me. I do not blame you. What a sorry sight I must seem right now."

"Leave you?" he asked, confused. "Leave you? Why would you think such a thing?"

"I am a pitiful creature. You would do better to find a diva that truly deserves your talents," she replied.

"Christine," he said, his voice so soft. She trembled at her name upon his lips. "I will never leave you. I have always been with you, even if I was a coward and could not reveal myself as I should have."

"But why?" she asked. "Why would you want to stay with someone like me? "

"Christine," he said, finding it difficult to meet her eyes, "I love you."

She stared at him in awe.

"Angel. . ."

"Erik," he said firmly. Then, more gently he added, "Please, my name is Erik. I am no angel. I am a man. I cannot let you go. I cannot allow that boy to take you away from me. I do not want you to leave my side."

"Erik," she replied, emotion choking her beautiful voice.

"I am a monster. But I cannot deny what I feel for you. Do you know what you do to me? Do you not know how strongly I feel for you?"

He lifted her hand to his chest and she could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath thin cotton and muscle.

"A monster loves you, Christine," he repeated bitterly, removing the mask from the right side of his face. "Run now, I warn you, while you can."

Shock filled her delicate features as she looked upon the marred side of his face. Her fingers reached out tentatively and ran across the deformity that rippled the skin of his face, twisting and inflaming it. Her hand shook as she moved it down along his mouth, tracing his soft lips with care.

"You are no monster to me," she replied quietly. "You have always been my teacher, my protector, and my. . ."

Again, he lifted her downcast face, ignoring the fact that his face was now bare before her. Her liquid eyes wavered upon his, and he silently demanded her reply.

"My love," she whispered, another tear falling down her pale cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb as he held her face. "I cannot live without you," she wept, gazing at him with a strange intensity. "I feel like I will die if you turn me away. I do not want to be forced from your side."

"Oh, Christine," he whispered, his hands stroking her face in a tenderness he never knew he possessed. "I will never let you leave my side. Never."

His lips sought hers and she fell into his embrace. Tenderness gave way to passion and his embrace tightened. His hands pulled her tightly against him and she moaned softly against his mouth, her hands travelling up to his shoulders.

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight

Fin.