Author's Beginning Notes: Here is story 4, and although this is primarily movie-verse, I've decided to add in some Susay Kay elements when I mention Erik's attempted suicide at 12 years old. I hope you enjoy the story, and please remember to leave a review.

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 Christine Draws a Picture of Erik, and Asks Him Another Question

"Christine, what are you drawing?"

"Oh, I'm just drawing you Angel."

"...What?" The young Daae blinked rapidly in surprise at the tone of her teacher's voice; it sounded like her Angel had squeaked...

"I'm drawing you Angel," replied Christine, shoving her shock down into the soles of her feet as she her small hand indicated the sheet of paper before her, while her other set the pencil Madame Giry had given her down on the desk. "See, there are your wings," the young girl began, pointing at the feathery streaks, "and that's your halo." The Phantom's eyes followed his student's finger as it pointed at a different spot, a small round hoop.

"I messed up there," Christine said sheepishly, speaking of the halo. "It should've been bigger."

"...Child, why are you drawing me, when you have not seen me," Erik questioned gently, as a gloved hand absent-mindedly stroked his mask.

"I'm just imagining what you look like," the young Daae defended herself in a testy manner, trying to imitate her Angel when he was grumpy. "It's in black and white, but your hair," and the girl pointed to the scraggly waves on the paper connected to the head, "is supposed to be blonde."

"...Blonde?"

"Blonde's not a bad color! Meg's blonde, you know!"

"I never said blonde was a bad color!"

"You were thinking it."

"I was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was--oh, forget it." An uncomfortable silence reigned between student and teacher, only the sound of Christine's tapping pencil ruining it.

"Um...Angel?"

"Yes, Christine," Erik replied from behind the mirror, hiding his embarassment over engaging in something so juvenile with the young Daae.

"Well, are you...I mean, were you ever anything else besides an angel, did you live as a mortal before, and then...you know...died and became the Angel of Music?" The man couldn't resist smiling at his student's intelligent question.

"Yes...I have lived before."

"Really? How did you--" but the girl cut herself off when her own hand sprang up and hastily covered her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

"Died?" A blush tinting her pale cheeks, and lowering her hand, the Phantom's student nodded sheepishly.

"It's alright child," Erik put in gently, wanting nothing more at that moment but to soothe his young friend. "Curiosity is a natural thing... And yet, I'm sorry to admit I do not wish to share with you the details of my death." The man did not wish to give into temptation and tell Christine that he had died of his own suicide when he was 12, making that botched attempt of his in the past a reality in the young Daae's mind; he did not wish to put the idea in her mind that one of God's rules was wrong, that suicide did not deny entry into Heaven...certainly, he had little respect for God, but his feelings did not matter, only Christine's. At times Erik hated how religious the girl was, how she believed in God and Angels and miracles so much, as well as Heaven and Hell.

"Oh no, that's fine," the child anxiously replied with her hands waving nervously, making her look rather comical, and the Phantom had to bite down a laugh.

"...Angel?"

"Yes?"

"...Do you...do you like my drawing?" Christine was aware she was being foolish, knew that her Angel of Music would comment on her futile attempt to capture his divine and celestial beauty, despite his overall kindness to her in the past. From behind the mirror, the man re-examined his student's picture, noted the amateurish technique of her inexperienced hand in her unsteady lines, but the face showed overall a symmetrical grace that was alluring, and it was bare, free of any damn masks; he felt warm looking at the picture...his student had taken the time to draw what he looked like and put it down on paper...

"...Yes, Christine, I like your drawing very much."

Author's Ending Notes: I have a feeling this wasn't as humorous as the other earlier stories...oh well, the genre is general after all, not humor. I hope you enjoyed that story, and please remember to leave a review.