Three months had passed since Erik began instructing Christine through her mirror. He had become an integral part of her life now, present from the moment she woke to the moment she fell asleep, never abandoning her for a moment. Even if she experienced the slightest shift in mood, he would immediately take note, and words of concern and care would appear upon her arm, asking her if she was well, if there was anything he could do. He was always watching, always guarding her and guiding her…

He was her Angel.

To Erik, Christine Daaè could only be described as an angel. A miracle. A gift from heaven above, and how ironic it was that she thought she same of him, when he was only a deceitful demon, lying to be close to her. He knew someday he would have to tell her he was no Angel - perhaps he could maintain the guise of at least being a somewhat normal individual, but he knew the moment she would lay her eyes upon him she would see he was nothing but a man in a mask and sophisticated attire to make up for what he lacked underneath the layers. This became more and more prevalent as their relationship developed: it was a constant rain of questions from Christine every night, one trickling down his arm after the other in an endless storm of her fervent curiosity.

As Christine's birthday drew near, she began to ask him the question he dreaded most. The first time it appeared upon his arm, during a typical late night conversation, he immediately wiped it away, pretending he hadn't seen it. Three minutes later, it appeared again:

Is there any way I could ever possibly see you?

He wiped once more, blowing the candles out in his lair, submerging himself in darkness. Perhaps if he could not see the messages, he would not feel compelled to reply. To his misfortune, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness that they were so used to, and he could easily make out the words upon his forearm.

You do not have to say yes, but I would like to receive an answer.

He exhaled deeply. Why did this beautiful, brave woman have to be so persistent? Of course, it was just one of the many things that made her Christine - it was not her voice, not her long brown tresses or the pale blue of her eyes; it was her inner fire, her drive, her fortitude, her unrelenting curiosity and her endless kindness. He would not trade a single of her traits for another, if he could. Not a single one. Breathing deeply, he penned his reply:

I am able to take form and appear if I must. Why do you ask?

It will soon be my birthday...I suppose it is not the most significant of dates, but I should like to celebrate. I have not done so in years, she wrote in a small script, fitting as much on her arm as she could before wiping it away to continue. I thought, perhaps, you could do something for me.

And what is that, my dear?

You could allow me to give you a gift.

Give me a gift? It is your birthday, Christine.

Correct, it is my birthday, and I shall spend it however I like...and how I would like to spend it is meeting the man that has instructed me, guided me, befriended me through my sadness.
He blinked, staring at her statement, one word baffling him:

Man.

-

Christine had known for quite some time that her Angel was no angel. How could he be, when he frequently erupted into rage over the simplest of things? How could he be, when he could not answer the simplest of questions about her father? She knew there was something missing in his story, something missing in the answers that he gave her, and most of all, she knew there was something missing in him that caused him to resort to lying to gain her friendship. This is why she did not mind so much. This is why she was willing to forgive him, so long as he was willing to move forward in honesty...and that began with revealing himself to her.

It was the first time she'd referred to him as a man, though she had not called him an angel in quite some time either. Maestro sufficed, it seemed more truthful - he clearly was not lacking in knowledge on the subject of music. When he took over five minutes to reply, she wondered if she'd stepped too far and lost him forever...just when she rose from her bed in the darkness, moving across the new dormitory Madame Giry had assigned to her to look in the mirror at the end of her room, she caught sight of words finally forming on her forearm. She breathed a sigh of relief so deep it was as though she'd been holding her breath the entire time she was waiting.

How did you know? His script was even more jumbled than it typically would be, the strokes of ink almost indicating the motions his hand had made - did his fingers tremble as he replied?

I am no fool. I hope that you will not continue to be one and realize that I am more than willing to forgive you for your deceit if you will have the decency to meet with me personally.

Christine, I am so sorry. I do not know why I… The words disappeared quickly, a plea replacing them: I do not deserve your kindness, but I beg you, Christine. Allow me this illusion. Allow me to continue leading you to believe that I am anything but what I am.

What I see you as now is a liar. Show yourself to me, and I will see you as an honest man.

Christine waited for an hour, sitting in the corner of her room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stared intently at her forearm, eyelids drooping and head hanging low. She was just about to succumb to sleep when she finally saw the words:

Mirror, 9:00 PM.

As she slipped into sleep, she dreamt of a man carrying her through her mirror into a strange new world - a world of music and darkness that she'd only ever dared to dream of.

-

After slicking back the hair of his wig for what must have been the hundredth time, Erik took notice of the time on the clock - 8:45 PM. In mere moments, Christine would stand in front of her mirror, waiting for him to step through as the man she wanted him to be. But he wasn't the man she wanted him to be, no matter how much she assured him that as long as he was honest, she would accept him. He could never be honest, no matter how hard he tried. Honesty meant being his true self, removing all of the masks that he'd worn over the years and all of the walls that he'd built - he could never truly be unabashedly honest the way she was. And certainly not in the way that she deserved.

At 8:55 PM, he stood before the mirror, a pot of ink and a quill sitting on the ground by his feet. He picked up the quill, and wrote one last message to her as her mysterious angel - after this, he would no longer be able to hide behind ink and mirrors and darkness. He would be Erik, her odd, reclusive instructor, and she would likely slowly drift away from him, leaving him in the kindest way possible. He tried not to think of this as he sent her one last message, reassuring that this is truly what she wanted:

This is the point of no return, Christine. Once I step through this mirror, you will know I am nothing. And I will see you in front of me for the first time, and you will be as you always have been...you will be everything. He quickly wiped the last sentence away before she had a chance to read it, cursing himself for his foolishness - should he reveal himself and the depths of his feelings all in one night? It would surely frighten her away for good.

Instead of replying, Christine stared straight into the mirror, her blue eyes glistening with something other than resolve - it was something more like excitement, hope. He couldn't understand it as he finally stepped forth through the mirror and met those sparkling eyes with his for the first time. He stared in them, desperately attempting to decipher her facial expression, but her face did not move, her eyes did not move, they stared straight forward into his before suddenly she was moving and two small, short arms wrapped around his waist.

His gift was successfully delivered.