My first Christmas story... just a sweet little one-shot about the beginning of Erik and Christine. Inspired by Michael Crawford's recording of O Holy Night. Michael Crawford was the Phantom I learned the story from, and hearing him sing that song made it seem like the Phantom was singing, especially when the little kids start singing along, it was the little ballet-girls! Enjoy!

It was Christmas Eve at the Opera Populaire. Little ballet rats scattered allover the building, bubbling with excitement. The only one in the Opera house that was not truly excited also happened to be the only one that could not be consoled.

Erik was seventeen years old. He'd been living in the cellars for 8 years. So many Christmases come and gone - even the ballerinas had the privilege of giving - and receiving - so much more than him. Just one gift each year to and from him, because of his savior, Madame Antoinette Giry. Still, don't be deceived, he was still truly grateful to her for so many things, and as a 17-year-old boy, Erik shunned away his feelings of loneliness and, of course, jealousy. He sought to see tomorrow as simply another day, only fraught with annoyance due to the excited shrieks that would, no doubt, find him in his lair. A thought pierced him before he had the chance to shoo it away:

I wish, just once, I could find one more thing for me tomorrow, or could be able to give someone something.

There. His Christmas wish.

Shaking his head and wondering if the annoying ballerinas had finally gotten to him, Erik went to sleep.

The next morning, Erik indeed awoke to joyous shrieks of young girls. It starts, he though. He got up and grabbed his gift for Antoinette - a small ruby brooch that he'd been able to clean up after someone had dropped it down a grate that led to the lair. He'd even added some paste turquoise in case the real owner recognized it. He then headed up to a dressing room that had a secret door in it to meet Antoinette. When he reached the dressing room, he tapped the back of a mirror. Another tap followed - that was his and Antoinette's way of knowing one another was there. Erik slid the wood-backed glass out of the way.

"Merry Christmas, Erik!" she said brightly, embracing him as a son.

"You as well!" he said falsely, trying to be happy for her sake.

She handed him his gift. Erik slowly tore away the paper, savoring the act. He revealed a professionally made mask, not like his own at all. It was much more decorative than his, It was white with indentions and black marks around the eyes, giving the mask a skull-like look. It also covered his whole face from the nose up. Madame Giry turned around, and when he sampled the mask, it fit just about perfectly. He'd make a few corrections on his own.

"Thank you!" he said. Erik was genuinely happy about the gift.

After Antoinette got the brooch, Erik inquired of her family.

"Oh, Meg loves Christmas. Richard and I gave her a little doll that can bend just like a real ballerina, with a pink tutu and everything. I gave Richard a new watch - did I tell you? Not a month ago, he was checking the time and stumbled on his own foot, then landed right on his watch and broke it!"

Erik laughed, even though he already knew all this. He had found out that Madame Giry was having a lot of trouble finding him a gift, so Erik had grabbed his foot in the Opera's main hallway and made him trip on his watch.

"What about that new girl? Meg's friend… what's her name… Clarisse?"

"Christine. The poor child… her first Christmas after her father died. She was so sad yesterday, and before I came, she was trying so hard to be happy. She didn't want to ruin the other girls' holiday. We gave her a pin with a pink crystal, it looks like a little heart…"

As she and Erik parted, he was somewhat glad that he wasn't the only person that wasn't enjoying this holiday completely.

So that afternoon, Erik couldn't take it anymore. He stomped off to a tiny alcove far away from his lair. It was actually next to the chapel, where he could see from near the ceiling from out of a hole he'd pried a brick out of. The perfect place to see but not be seen.

He was so sure there was no one in the chapel, so he sang to himself. Carols were the only thing about Christmas. Antoinette had taught him a few. These songs were much different from the music he usually heard, and though he loved opera, a change was welcome. He sang his favorite carol -

O holy night

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear

Savior's birth…

Long lay the world

In sin and error pining

Till he appeared and the soul

Felt its worth -

"Papa?" a small voice said.

He started, then peered out of the small opening in the wall. A little girl stood directly below him, looking all around for the voice. Her pretty brunette curls and big brown eyes were just as Antoinette had described. This was the orphan girl, Christine.

How this must seem to her - a man's voice singing a Christmas carol, in the chapel, on Christmas day. Especially since her own father had just died!

Then it occurred to him - perhaps his Christmas wish had been granted. He could give this little girl a gift like no other.

"Christine?" he said gently.

A smile sprang across her face. "Papa! You were right! There is an Angel of Music. You sent him to me!"

This was a surprise. "My dear," he made up, "my memory is a little - befuddled. Tell me about this angel."

Christine frowned.

"You told me all about him! You taught me his song!"

"Angel of Music

Guide and guardian

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of Music

Hide no longer

Not to me,

Strange Angel!"

He was stunned. Such a pure, innocent voice! He'd heard nothing like this. He was no angel - she was! With proper teaching, she would soar higher than any prima donna…

Teaching…

Teaching!

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