Erik stood on the other side of the mirror, watching Christine for a moment before he made his presence known. She was sitting in her faded pink armchair, her legs tucked underneath of her, a book in her hands. She looked to be more than halfway through said book, and she was smiling down at the pages as she read. He had often seen her reading before her lessons, but she had never smiled like this at what she was reading before.

He couldn't help but smile as well. She looked so happy.

"What are you reading, child?"

Christine started and looked up.

"It's a fairy story, Angel," she explained.

"Is it a very good one?"

"Oh, yes - very good," she nodded. "I think this one is my favorite, now."

"Indeed? What is it about?" he was curious.

She blushed. She felt a little silly at the thought of explaining the romantic tale and how she enjoyed it to an angel, but in the two years since her angel had first appeared to her, he had never reprimanded her or made her feel as though her interests were too worldly. Angels were above such earthly things as falling in love, but surely he wouldn't fault her silly mortal heart's fondness for daydreaming on such matters.

"Well, it's a love story, you see," she kept hers eyes lowered to the pages. "There's a man - a peasant man - and he's secretly in love with the princess. But he doesn't think she could ever fall in love with a man of his station. So one day he's fishing, and he catches a fish that can talk. It tells the man that it will grant him any wish if he releases it. He wishes that he could always serve the princess in any way that she needs. So he puts the fish back in the water, and the fish turns him into a bird!"

Christine paused, her eyes shining.

"A bird?"

"Yes, a little song bird! So he flies up to the castle, and he sees the princess, and she's so sad and crying, so he does the only thing he can do now - he sings for her. And it cheers her up. So he lives in the tree just outside her window, and he sings to her all the time - if she's sad or scared or not feeling well, he sings and she starts to feel better from listening to him. That goes on for quite a while until one day the poor little thing dies, right in the middle of a song - little birds like that don't live for very long, you know," she pushed a stray curl of hair away from her face before continuing.

"He dies right on the windowsill of her room, and she's so upset when she finds him! She scoops him up into her hands and takes him outside, intending to bury him by the river. She kneels by the water and cries over his body - cries that something so beautiful had to leave the world, that something that gave her so much joy and strength and peace was gone forever. Well, the magic fish in the river hears her crying, and it takes pity on them both - it brings the bird back to life and turns him back into a human! And when she realizes her little bird was really a human all along, she falls in love with him because of his tender devotion to her all that time."

Erik didn't know what to say. Christine liked this story?

"Wasn't she upset to learn it was a man on her windowsill all that time?" he finally asked.

"Oh, no, Angel - it was romantic - to become a little bird and live his whole life just to sing to her? That's so sweet," she sighed. "How could she not love that?"

"He could have just made his wish to marry the princess."

"No! He wanted her to love him because she truly loved him, not because he used magic to make her love him... Besides, if he had, there'd be no story!"

"I do suppose it would cut the story rather short," he conceded, trying to ignore the strange tremble in his hands.

She set the book aside and stood, smoothing her skirts out.

"It's such a lovely story, anyway. The princess is so lucky to have someone who loves her like that."

"Hmm. I believe it is time for your lesson, child."

She nodded, and they began, but Erik's mind was only half there in that dressing room with Christine - the other half was consumed with all she had said about her book.

What had she called it? Oh, yes - sweet. Did she really think it was sweet to find a human man where one was expecting... something else? Did she truly find the man's devotion romantic?

He was her Angel because he had never thought he could truly be a living man to her. She would have been too put off by his appearance to ever give him a chance to tutor her, or so he had thought. But perhaps he had judged wrongly - after he had gotten to know her as more than just the voice from the chorus with the incredible potential, he realized the equally incredibly kind soul she possessed. But by then it had been too late - she was kind and forgiving and understanding, but he was afraid of how she might react to learning that he had posed as an angel. A hideous man could be excused, a hideous man masquerading as an angel could not, so he had assumed he'd have to keep the ruse up forever once he started it.

It wasn't such a horrible thing, being her Angel. But it was rather... limiting. He was unable to accompany her on an instrument, for one - if she were able to come to his house, or if he were able to conduct their lessons in one of the opera house's rooms for practice, then he would be able to provide her with music as she sang. But practically none of the other rooms in the vast building were suitable for a girl and her "angel". A girl and her tutor, perhaps, could do lessons anywhere they pleased, but a disembodied voice could not - such things were limited to rooms with secret passages behind them. If they could stand in the same room together without the mirror between them, he would be able to correct her posture with a mere brush of the hand, a light touch on her shoulder instead of the spoken command "posture, Christine," which always caused her to pause while singing. Yes, it would be ideal if he didn't have to keep up the guise of an angel, but Erik knew better than most that life was seldom ideal.

But this was a wholly unexpected turn of events - what if Christine saw the whole thing in a positive light? What if she was flattered by his well-intentioned lie? She had looked so happy reading about such a similar situation in her book, and all he truly wanted was for her to be happy. Would she smile like that at him, if she knew?

It was a notion that he turned over and over in his head. If he knew for certain that Christine would forgive any white lies on his part, and accept him as a human, he wouldn't have delayed in the least. This whole business with the fairy story gave him hope - hope for some deep wish that had been pressed down for ages.

Simply put, he was tired of being a ghost, of being an angel. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat and conversed with another person as a person, and though it pained to admit, he wanted that desperately. Madame Giry knew him only as the Opera Ghost, the sometimes booming, sometimes sinisterly whispering voice which gave orders to her. The people he'd talk to to complete his affairs out in the world didn't know him at all beyond the figure that was cloaked in darkness and had exceedingly deep pockets to fund whatever he asked for. Madame Giry was very good at complying with his wishes, but he couldn't rely on her for everything - after all, what use would a ghost have for wines and brandies and whatever other human necessities he couldn't pilfer from the kitchens?

He was so sick of it all, and here was dear little Christine offering him a respite from it. How sweet it would be to sit and talk with her and have her look at him instead of the ceiling as she told him stories about her day, how wonderful to not have to pretend and lie to such a trusting soul anymore. How achingly validating it would be to be seen as a human being and accepted as such, after so, so long. If anyone was capable of such a thing, it was her.

But still, it couldn't be rushed. An important decision like this had to have thought put into it, or at least he told himself so.

So he held back and watched and waited.