Title: An Angel's Arising
Summary: Short little ficlet about how Erik became Christine's Angel, her teacher; and how all that changed as she grew.
Rating: K+
He hated it when they said he had no heart. If indeed that was true, it was through lack of use that it had disappeared. Certainly, he had had a heart the night he heard little Christine Daaé crying. Purely by accident, he had heard her one day, down in the chapel, and for the first time in his life, his instinct to help people overrode his passion to hurt and frighten as he had been hurt and frightened. How surprised he had been to hear the weeping little girl begin to sing! In a small, sad voice, to be sure, but it was beautiful, and even Erik's carefully guarded heart had begun to wear down.
This beautiful little girl needed his help now, and he would be sure to give it.
She spoke to her father- Gustave Daaé, said the engraving under the candle she always lit- and prayed for her Angel of Music to come and take care of her.
So Erik became both an Angel, and a Ghost. While he terrorised the ballet rats and the managers, corresponded with Madame Giry through his slightly sinister notes, he was all the while concentrating on the next lesson with Christine. He would watch her all day, ensure that she came to no harm, and if the other ballet rats tormented her, well, all the worse for them whe they found spiders in their beds and rats underneath.
As Christine started to improve, Erik felt an almost fatherly pride for the darling little girl. At twelve, she was the prettiest little thing in the Opera house, and she had more talent in her little finger than that croaking lump, La Carlotta, had in her whole body.
As she grew into an even more beautiful young woman, Erik knew he was doomed. His Don Juan, his life's work, had taken on a darker tone than he had ever imagined it would, and he knew exactly who would be starring in his masterpiece. He wrote it for her, now, and their lessons were the light of his life; he would do anything to make her happy, and he knew that this, in turn, made him feel for the first time like there was a purpose to his miserable existance. Erik knew he was doomed, and powerless to stop it, even as he berated himself for hiding and watching her dance at rehearsal, sitting in his box during performances and planning numerous ways to rid Paris of La Carlotta, each more painful than the last.
She called him Angel; he was so much less, and at the same time, so much more.
FIN.
Author's Note: Amazing what having no Internet for two days will do.This wouldn't leave me alone; I just had to get it out. Awww, poor Erik :( This is actually one of three short little things I've written today, which are all being posted in a 'collection' of sorts. All three of them are pretty angstsy though. Anyway, enjoy, and tell me what you think!
PS: Updates on 'Wandering Child' and 'This is the Choice' will be up ASAP, I'm just making final edits on those. Also, if anyone is interested in being a beta/proofreader/general muse, I'd be much obliged. Not a lot of people I know like Phantom x.x