It's the holidays. Erik expects to spend another miserable holiday alone. Christine wishes for her angel to reveal himself. Will events go as planned? Alternate take on the POTO universe. The De Chagny's are Christine's adoptive family, and Erik is younger in age.
A/N – Well, I started this story in 2011, and it's taken me over 4 years to complete! I am still editing the last several chapters and might change the title. Anyone care to beta? I'll try posting every week. Since I do not have internet at home, posting can be somewhat irregular.
The Gift
Chapter 1
Erik, Christmas Eve
It was one of those miserable days, when everyone plastered smiles upon their faces in celebration of Him and His so-called gifts. I would have preferred to stay undisturbed in my lair, far away from the taint of smiles and cheer. There was, however, one person to whom I always bequeathed a gift, and this Christmas would be no different.
Normally, I did not wait so long to deliver my gift. I usually gave myself a few days. But because the necklace had arrived only this afternoon, I had been forced to make the unpleasant trip outside, enduring the revolting sounds of laughter and Christmas carols.
'It's all because of that blubbering idiot!' I thought savagely. 'If he hadn't botched the order, the necklace would have arrived on time!'
But there was nothing to do at this point. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow, my student would leave to spend the holiday with the De Chagny's, whom she'd fondly referred to as her 'adoptive family.' Therefore, I would have to deliver my present to her tonight.
The gift was, of course, only to keep up the pretense of being her angel. Some years ago, Christine had asked what angels did on Christmas, and I had invented some ridiculous story of the angels celebrating in heaven.
"My voice is needed in heaven, child," I had lied, "for we angels sing in celebration of Him and His everlasting glory."
And Christine – my naïve, stupid student – would greedily wish to hear more, to which I would layer lie upon lie, if only to be rewarded with her sighs and bright, innocent smiles.
I crept upstairs now, through the maze of the underground paths and traps, intent only on delivering my package. Through the mirror, I spied Christine. She was holding her door open a crack, giggling, and I frowned, wondering with whom she was whispering so late in the evening.
"Oh Raoul, you mustn't come inside!" she giggled. "What if Madame hears us?"
I felt an eyebrow rise. The boy didn't usually visit Christine at the Paris Opera house. If anything, she sometimes visited the De Chagny's mansion. I had always been under the impression Raoul and Philippe were like brothers to her.
"You know as well as I that Madame is with her family," he laughed. "Come now, Christine, there is no one here to scold us. Just another goodnight kiss? Please?" He stepped forward then, placing one foot in the door to prevent my student from shutting it.
My fingers itched for the lasso. What was this – a kiss?
"No, no," she whispered, trying to smother her laughter. "It is most improper."
"But I intend to marry you," he murmured, his face very close to hers.
I felt myself stiffen in shock. That boy, who was like a brother to my student, wanted to marry her?
Christine giggled, "Oh, stop it."
"Shall I make it acceptable then?" The boy teased, producing mistletoe from his pocket. He lifted it above their heads, then leaned forward.
Christine made a muffled sound, and I turned away, my hands tightening into fists. I felt my shock disintegrate into rage, bitterness, then self-loathing.
Over the past five years since I had first begun tutoring her, Christine had transformed from a scrawny, depressed girl into a shy, beautiful woman. Every day, she grew more radiant. Even though she had quickly risen to the ranks of a star soprano, what girl could refuse a handsome, wealthy gentleman and a life of comfort and luxury? One day, she would leave the opera house, marry, give up singing, and begin a family.
I lifted my gaze, forcing myself to watch as Christine's lithe body was crushed helplessly against the boy's, and to my surprise, she gently pushed him away. My traitorous gaze wandered to the exposed skin of her shoulder, where her nightgown had slipped and which she quickly straightened. The wild curls of her hair had come loose during their kiss, and she nervously tucked them behind an ear.
A kiss, so easily given and so easily taken...
How often had I yearned for such a simple pleasure? How many times had those perfect pink lips distracted me, as she sung in rapture of my music?
All this time, I had refused to see my student in any way except as a teacher. But now, with the threat of him so blatantly displayed, I felt crushed and devastated at the inevitability of her absence.
My own response startled me. I could feel the mask sticking to me, and belatedly, I realized I was shaking. It took all of my willpower not to crash through the mirror and throw that boy away from my student.
Yet none of these feelings made any sense!
I was not even particularly fond of Christine. She had always struck me as extremely foolish and stupid. I found her conversations mundane and silly. Half the time, I barely paid attention to anything she said. The only reason the girl had caught my attention was because she possessed the purest voice I had ever heard. Her talent and work ethic were also passable. Posing as her Angel of Music was simply the most efficient choice, given the situation.
No, this was a moment of weakness – that was all. I simply did not like the fact that eventually, Christine would leave the Paris Opera, and I would return to my prison of loneliness. It was only loneliness. Only that.
"Goodnight, Christine." De Chagny's voice intruded upon my thoughts, and I watched, trembling, as he reached over and caressed her chin.
My student blushed, before whispering back a farewell. The boy retreated, and she shut the door, leaning back against it with a dazed look in her eyes. I saw Christine place a finger upon her lips and when a hint of a smile lifted there, I could stand it no longer.
"Did your boy please you?" I seethed.
Her eyes widened, and she flew to the center of the room, collapsing to her knees.
"A-Angel, forgive me! I thought you had left for the holiday!" she stammered.
"So, my dear, if I were not here, then it would have been okay?" I demanded cuttingly.
"I'm sorry, angel," she cried. "I-I didn't know he would try to do that!"
"How dare you lie to me, you ungrateful child! You knew he was begging you for a kiss!" I boomed. "Obviously, you value your lover's kisses over your angel's music! I shall return to heaven now, and you shall hear from me no more!"
She paled, shaking her head desperately. "No, no, don't do that. It won't happen again. Please, ange, don't leave me!"
When I did not reply, she broke into tears and sank to the floor.
I regarded her kneeling, wretched form, feeling disgusted with myself. If she knew what I was, she would not have made such a scene.
"Get up," I ordered. "Get up and never bow before me again." She hesitated, confused, and I spoke impatiently, "For heaven's sake, child, have some dignity!"
At this, she scrambled to her feet, waiting dutifully for my next command.
"Please, ange, tell me what to do," she implored. "I'll do anything for you. Anything."
I watched, fascinated by the lovely girl before me. How tempting it would be to take advantage of such an offer! But no, I would not destroy my student. If there was one thing which my bloody hands would not defile – it would be her.
I shook my head, growing cross and frustrated. If anything, her attachment and unquestioning obedience would be harmful for her in the future. She needed to learn to think for herself, not act as some mindless slave. No one should hold such power over my protégée. Especially me.
I should let her go before I ruined her.
"I grew cross with you, my child, though I should not have," I stated in gentler, resigned tones.
Christine continued to stand there obediently, as a sacrifice for the altar.
"Over these years, you have made me proud," I continued, trying to sound as fatherly as possible. "Soon, I will have taught you almost all that I know. The time will come when you will no longer need my tutelage. You will leave this place and go out into the world."
"But ange—"
"Let me finish!" I snapped, silently cursing as she jumped in fright. "You ask what you should do, Christine? I ask that you learn to make your own decisions, rather than always attempt to please others. I ask that you stop with this mindless obedience and figure out what you want in life. I ask that you grow up rather than keep acting as a foolish child! From now on, I shall address you as the woman that you are, and you shall no longer pester me with the responsibility of making your decisions for you. You will find that the world is not so kind to those who are so…so stupidly obedient and trusting!"
I watched her blink in astonishment, and she began to speak, curiosity shining in her eyes.
"Ange, are you...upset?"
I was silent, unsure as to how to answer her question. "Of course not," I huffed dismissively, "I only need to know for certain whether our lessons are to continue regularly or...or if you would rather spend your time with that boy."
"Is that all?" she pressed, and to my astonishment, she was staring directly into the mirror.
I realized I had forgotten to throw my voice and cursed myself for my stupidity.
"What do you mean by that?" I moved my voice to her ear, watching as she jumped.
"Angel, are you...jealous?"
I stiffened, startled by her perceptiveness.
"Angel? Angel, are you there?"
"Why would I be jealous?" I managed.
There was a silence, and I could feel Christine digesting my reply. Then, she remarked, "God can be jealous. Why wouldn't you be?"
"It wouldn't matter if I were!" I roared, at once extremely irritated. Christine flinched, and I sighed, "Why are you asking me these things?"
"Is there nothing you feel for me?" she whispered. "Am I only a student to you? A voice to teach?"
I felt my heart race, and I watched her in frozen silence. How had this happened? This wasn't in my carefully crafted plans. But then, finding Christine with that boy wasn't either.
She wrung her hands together, obviously uncomfortable in the silence. "I'm sorry, angel. I shouldn't have asked. Please don't be cross at me for asking. It was wrong of me, terribly selfish of me!"
"And what...what exactly would be...selfish?" I ventured cautiously.
She flushed, and I watched, intrigued, as the red spread from her cheeks all the way to her ears and neck.
"I...I wish that you would come to me as a man," she confessed, embarrassed. She paused, biting her lip. "But it's a sinful wish, is it not?"
"Yes," I agreed slowly. "Quite."
She was silent, staring at her feet.
I watched, desperately curious. "And your boy, Christine?" I could not help asking. "What did you feel...with him?"
"I don't know," she whispered, shifting uncomfortably. "That was my first k-kiss. I suppose I'm flattered, but..."
"But what?"
An awkward silence followed. Again, she reddened, and I felt my own face grow hot beneath the mask.
'It means nothing,' I told myself scornfully. 'She does not love you. She doesn't even know you. If she did, she'd run away screaming.'
Imagining Christine's screams was sobering. Clearing my throat, I switched to professional mode.
"We will not speak of this again," I stated as steadily as I could. "It is best that you to retire for the night. Remember, you are leaving tomorrow morning."
She bit her lip, and I realized with dismay that she looked as though she were about to break into tears.
"Do you need to leave so soon, ange?" she cried. "Are you being called away for your heavenly duties? Will I not see you again until after the New Year?"
"Yes," I lied, trying to remain unmoved by the crestfallen expression in her wide, blue eyes. I looked down at my hands, at the gift still clutched within my palm. I'd have to wait until she'd fallen asleep. "Goodnight, Christine."
"Merry Christmas, angel," she sniffed.
I left, trying to ignore the way the disappointment in her tone tugged upon my heart.