Author's Beginning Notes: Here is the second story in this collection, and thanks for the feedback; please continue to review, and I hope your enjoyment continues.
Summary: (A series of one-shots set in the pre-movie dimension.) Simply snapshots in the lives of Erik and Christine in the beginning, when he was still an invisible deity, and she a rather superstitious child...
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera doesn't belong to me; if it did, Christine would've gone with Erik...
In Which Buquet Officially Earns his Place on Erik's Hit List
"Angel?" Summer, perfect for lemonade, thought the small girl as she gulped down the drink, impressed with how well Meg had made it, her legs dangling off the bed's edge and aimlessly kicking back and forth.
"Yes Christine?" Summertime, an opportune moment for lemonade, thought the Phantom as he sipped the golden liquid, thanking Madame Giry for giving it to him, his back leaning against the mirror while he sat upon the cold stone floor.
"Well," the child began, pausing for another gulp, "I saw Monsieur Buquet doing something funny today."
"There truly isn't a need to address that man as 'monsieur,' child," Erik grunted, his eyes rolling behind his mask at the thought of that despicable stage hand.
"Anyway," said young Daae rather anxiously, not wanting her Angel to get anymore testy, and to get to her point... "I saw him peeking through holes in the wall." The lemonade splattered on the ground as the Phantom spat it out in shock, his eyes wide in their sockets, his cheeks a deep red.
"He...he... he what!"
"Monsieur Buquet was peeking through holes in the wall," repeated Christine, her eyebrows burrowed in confusion, wondering what was wrong with her teacher. "I wanted to look through those holes too and see what he was looking at, but they were set really high up in the wall," she continued, and to her emphasize her point, the child lifted her hand without the lemonade as high as it could stretch, "and I couldn't begin making any sort of ladder since I had to go to ballet practice..." Erik buried his crimson face in his darkly gloved hands once he set his drink down. "Do you know what Buquet was doing, Angel?"
At least one of the Phantom's eyes peeked out from between the fingers of one hand, and he sighed, resisting the temptation of repeatedly banging his head against the wall. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Christine that pervert Buquet was peeking through holes in the wall to spy on women undressing.
"Uh, Angel?"
"Christine...I know, but I'm sorry to say that I cannot tell you; you're much too young for that particular answer."
"When will I be old enough," asked the girl in eager curiosity, her naivety acting as a pleasant shield. In a hundred years, Erik inwardly thought in reply, also wondering if there ever was a time when he was as naive as Christine...he rather hoped not.
"I shall let you know when you are ready," replied the Phantom in a cold voice, fully hoping and predicting that the young Daae will forget this little matter among the shuffle of more important things.
"Christie!" Erik had to choke back a laugh as his student frowned, cringing at that hated nickname, a title Meg employed simply to annoy her friend.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT MEG," boomed Christine, trying to imitate the same stern tone her teacher occasionally used as she rushed out of her room, the Phantom finally breaking out into laughter in her wake.
Author's Ending Notes: God, this idea just begged to be written. I hope you enjoyed story 2, and please remember to leave a review.