FicWad

Much thanks to Darkelf19 who was a great help in writing this little fic. Phantom of the Opera property of ALW and Leroux


Anxiously, she pinned the last of her golden curls into place and examined her reflection in the glass before her. Though it was not in her character to be vain, tonight Christine thought of herself as perfect looking, resembling a Christmas angel.

Carefully, she had dressed in the gown of green velvet he had purchased for this occasion. It was the height of Paris fashion, with layers of matching silk petticoats and a gorgeous bustle. All of the finery put her out of her element, Christine Daaé, daughter of a wandering musician, was not use to such things. She allowed Mama Valerius's maid to drop the heavy winter cloak over her shoulders, before heading down the stairs.

She had said good-bye to her guardian just a short time ago. Though it was still quite early, the old woman had already retired for the evening. Christine found herself worrying more and more about the woman as the vitality seemed to be draining from her. Training to silence her anxieties, she headed for the door. This would not only be the first Christmas her and her mentor spent together, it would be the first Erik had celebrated in a long time it seemed. He had proclaimed to her that he did not celebrate the holidays, having no family, and therefore no use for them. Still, the thought of her poor teacher all alone in a cellar on Christmas had caused her to beg and wheedle until he consented that would spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning together.

Rushing out the front door, she was so distracted by the fluttering in her stomach, and the need to keep her expensive skirts off the ground that she failed to realize a merry looking young man was head up the walkway toward her. Christine finally looked up when she collided with something quite solid. A pair of strong arms caught her gently as the man before her laughed cheerily.

"Little Lotte, are you lost in the clouds again?"

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" Instantly she regretted the shortness of her reply to his friendly greeting.

"I came to give you your Christmas gift; I hope I am not too early." Her response had wounded him and deflated his spirits a bit.

"Oh Raoul, forgive me, but I do have somewhere I need to be."

"You're going to see him aren't you?" He frowned slightly and looked genuinely hurt. Her earlier excitement quickly deserted her.

Her eyes traced their way down to her skirts, one hand idly playing with the fine fabric, painfully aware of the conspicuous finery, and how the situation must look. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

He sighed, aware that he had to give her up for the night. "At least you can allow me to drive you there while you open this." He thrust the brightly wrapped package into her hands.
What harm could a short ride do? Anyways, he'd take her there and it would end up being shorter than walking. Tentatively, he took her arm and led her toward the waiting De Chagny carriage. The driver held the door open as he helped her inside and took the seat across from her. Christine couldn't help but feel privileged to ride in the magnificent vehicle.

"To the Opera House", Raoul commanded the driver. "You can open it now if you'd like." With a boyish smile he gestured to the box in her lap. "I hope it is to your liking."

Without hesitation, she divested the package of its bright paper to find the signature box of one of Paris's premiere jewelers. "Raoul, you shouldn't have." She beamed opening the box, he was sure she would love it.

Within lay a bracelet overloaded with sparkling diamonds and rubies. To a woman with a taste for such things, it would have seemed lovely, to a woman who already felt overwhelmed by riches, Christine found it to be a bit vulgar, but was careful to hide it from her smiling companion.

"Let me put it on you." Holding back a cringe, she allowed him to remove it from its box and place its considerable weight around her wrist and claps it shut. He looked at it dreamily for a moment, as though wishing it were another piece of jewelry he had placed on her. "Lovely, though not so much as the woman it adorns."

She felt the flush in her face as the deep blue eyes gazed unwaveringly at her. Slowly, he began to lean across the short distance that separated them. "Christine I...", he put a hand on her cheek and her heart quivered. "I..."

The carriage gave a frightful lurch as it hit a patch of ice, sending Raoul tumbling back into his seat. He sat back up scowling as she raised a dainty gloved hand to her mouth to smother the giggles now pouring forth. "Oh Raoul, you poor thing, oh, look at the park."

They were just passing the Bois De Bologne, which the snow of the last few nights had turned into a frost covered fairyland that delighted Christine's eyes. With a smile Raoul captured her hand. "Let's stop, just for a few moments, for the sake of old times."

She found herself entranced by his boyish excitement, something that wasn't nerve racking or overly serious,for once. "It'll be just like when we were younger, playing in the snow for hours, until we were near frozen."

"Driver, pull into the park." Christine, in the wave of innocent headiness that followed, soon forgot about the magnificent dress she was dragging through the snow, and about the man who had given it to her.

*****************

He was...alone. Despite all testament that the contrary would occur, he was all alone, with darkness blanketing Paris, on Christmas Eve. He felt a tear run down his cheek, moistening the leather of his mask. Of course she was probably off with that boy, but could he really blame her? The Viscomte was assuredly more pleasant company for a holiday such as this.

Of course he could blame her, and would; she had promised him she would be here. More tears found their way down his distorted cheeks. He hated her at moments like this, hated her for being so oblivious to how much he loved her, for not being able to return his love.

Surrounding him in his wretchedness were all the lavish decorations he had put up in anticipation of their evening together. Garlands of evergreen hung all about, holly sprung from the walls, and the massive tree stood glistening with its delicate glass ornaments, mocking him. His vision began to swim, rage pounding in his veins.

She had made a fool of him, giving him all the hope in the world and then snatched it away. "I hate you!" He shouted futilely at the empty darkness around him, before attacking one of the garlands and throwing it miserably to the floor. Everything had to be destroyed, he could no longer gaze at their precious joyfulness and not feel utter grief.

With blind wrath, he tore at them all, leaving unreserved destruction in his wake. No more garlands, no more holly, no more beautiful things to remind him of how ugly he was. The towering fir he saved until last, his finale in this sordid symphony of anguish. Just as his eyes turned on it, a demented smile on his lips, a noise from his door way pulled his attention else where. He would release the rest of his pain on this unwitting intruder.

A pair of tear filled blue eyes greeted him, freezing him where he stood. Her cloak hung on her loosely, the hood long ago having fallen from her plentiful curls, which in turn had escaped the confining pins and now hung limply around her face, due to the ice crystals they were laden with. She wrung her gloved hands waiting for him to speak. He could see that her beautiful dress was now ruined by the snow that clung to it.

"Christine", he chocked on the word, barely believing that she could truly be standing there.

"I am so sorry; I ran all the way here when it got dark. I lost track of time, please forgive me." Eyes now raining tears, observed the destruction around them. "I'm, so sorry Erik, so very sorry."

"It is no matter; I am sure you and Monsieur De Chagny enjoyed yourselves immensely." The venom in his words cut into her heart worse than any criticism. He had ever given her before.

"It is not like that, we are simply friends and nothing more." She watched in horror as his gaze fell upon the expensive bracelet clinging to her wrist.

"Indeed, now go warm yourself with a bath before you catch pneumonia."

"Yes, Erik." She was quick to obey, wanting nothing more than to escape those gold eyes so full of sadness. As soon as she left, he felt the guilt gnawing at him for his coldness to her. Even though she had forgotten him, Erik hated to see her crying like that. If only she knew how helpless he was when it came to her.

While she bathed, he brought the once glorious dress out to dry by the fire, in hopes of rescuing it. The destroyed decorations were quietly disposed of and anything still in one piece was restored. He found himself less and less angry with her for her lateness and dalliance with De Chagny; after all, she was with him now. Sudden warmth began to emanate within him, like a small flame being lit in his heart.

Soon enough, the snowy angel emerged and looked sullenly at her ruined dress hanging by the fire. She wore only her nightgown and a thick dressing gown on top of it. Erik felt a stab of guilt as her tiny frame sank into the couch and looked around at the house forlornly.

He stood by the mantle and beckoned her to him. "It's warm, come stand here." She obeyed silently, standing by the roaring fire, but still managing a good distance between them. "As humble as it may be", he reached behind one of the many portraits on the mantle, "merry Christmas, and please forgive my temper of earlier."

Her eyes instantly filled with joy, she had worried so that he would remain angry and things would never be right between them. He noticed as she eagerly reached for the box, that she had left the tasteless bracelet behind in her room.

Within lay Erik's gift to her, a simple locket of gold, bearing an engraved rose on the front. Curiously she opened it, finding herself in tears yet again. Inside was a portrait of her father exactly as she remembered him when he was healthy and full of life. Erik placed his hands on her shoulders, she never even noticed he had moved behind her and was looking at the locket with her. "I painted it from all your descriptions, I hope I got it right."

"Erik, this is the most wonderful gift I could ever ask for, from the bottom of my heart, thank you." She spoke with shaky breath desperately not wanting to sob. Nervously, Erik closed some of the distance between them.

"There's more", he reached over her shoulder and lifted the portrait up, to reveal a second portrait slot on the other side. "A place for whatever man will share your heart with your father." A place he could never hope to occupy.

"Oh, Erik." No gift she could give him would ever compare to this, it was with regret that she recalled she had never even found him a gift. Sadly, she turned to face him. "I never got you anything."

"It doesn't matter, so long as my little angel is happy." Hesitantly he put his arms around her in a loose hug. He was always so very sweet to her; couldn't she make him happy too?

"Well, there is something I could give you. Close your eyes Erik." With a child's faith, he obeyed, powerless against the emotions that commanded him.

With careful fingers, she pried the mask away from his skin. She gazed upon the horror, and felt no revulsion, yet neither did she feel pity, instead, some strange new emotion overtook her. With her heart thundering in her ears, she stood up on tip toe, and slowly pressed her lips to his.

In that instant, the world disappeared, and there was only the two of them, locked in that beautiful kiss. Feverishly, her lips parted, allowing Erik to deepen the kiss. His arms pulled her tight against him, as though afraid she would vanish. When finally they parted, he stared down at her, awe struck, heart in his throat. "Christine", her name was a prayer upon his lips as he leaned his terrible face against her soft locks, and closed his eyes. "I love you Christine, no matter what, I'll always love you. Thank you for this."

"I...love you too." Where the words came from, she had no idea, but she knew in her soul that they were true. In that moment of rapture she had felt with him, she had discovered those words. There was no reason for Erik to have left the other portrait space empty; he had already filled her heart. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. "Merry Christmas Erik."