The Little Angel (Completed one-shot's in "Love Me". On hiatus. possibly 4ever)

The Little Angel

Part 1—The girl and The Sea

Chapter 1

Christine Daaé surveyed the water from the front of the whaling boat. The sea was almost very turbulent, the sky a soft pale grey. Though she would have preferred different conditions, Christine could not deny that the day was very far from miserable. It was weather like this where whales came out, anyway.

Christine held on to her grey fisherwoman bonnet, her fingers gripping the velvet magenta strip that went around the hat. The teal and blue bow waved in the sea-salt wind which arose from the sea; and, of course, from the boat's speed. Every now and then; a gust of wind would whip up, surprising Christine. She would fumble for the protective hold on her hat, and stagger a little.

The open waters smelled wonderful that day, as did the wind rushing forth to greet Christine's nose.

A powerful rush of wind sent Christine staggering back, earning her a reproachful look from her father. That look reminded her she should always keep her balance; and, that were she to fall, all the other whalers—and other crewmen—would no longer respect her the way they grudgingly did. Keeping her balance on open waters was something Christine's father—Gustave Daaé, the famed seaman and at one time adventurer—had drilled into her from the time she could stand; when he had promptly placed her on the upper deck of her family's boathouse, and drilled into her sea codes and rules of the ocean. In doing so he passed on his fierce adoration of the waters. Both of her parents loved the waters. Her mother—Charlotte Daaé—and her father had met, when he was twenty-two and she was eighteen, while in Stockholm, preparing for separate journeys. They chanced in meeting each other and found they both had a love of the sea. Charlotte had been fascinated to hear that Gustave was going to sail through the waters around Stockholm, so he could then begin his mission. Charlotte asked what his mission was, naturally. He told her he was going to try to find Atlantis, and thought it was somewhere in the Norwegian sea, or very close by. Charlotte, enthralled by all this, offered to come with him; forgetting that she, too, had somewhere to be. Gustave; wanting her company but knowing she had somewhere else to go, pointed out that she would be missed, and asked if she had somewhere to be. She sighed, saying she was expected at her father's home for a visit. Her father and mother hoped she would marry soon, and hoped to set her up with Anders Nedews, a man she could not stand since he never talked of anything but how wonderful he was. Charlotte asked if Gustave wouldn't mind waiting a week before he departed. She thought her visit with her parents would not take much longer than that, and she truly wanted to accompany Gustave. He, of course, consented. In the months following that meeting and her visit; Gustave and Charlotte fell in love, and married.

When Christine was on the water, she felt both parents' influence greatly. They both lived on inside her, whether she knew it or not. They influenced every decision she ever made, made her what she was. It felt, to Christine, that when on the water her mother was right beside her. She did not have to ask her father if he felt the same—She knew he did. She knew as instinctually as she knew how to throw her harpoon and make it stick every time. The harpoon she carried now was a present for her sixth birthday, from her father.

He looked at her sternly after she unwrapped it, "You promise you'll be careful, Fish?" He used the nickname she'd earned when she learned to swim. Her mother took one look at her when she saw her swimming, and had laughed, "Why, Christine, you look just like a little fish!" "That she is, Lotte. A little fish. Our little fish." Gustave had replied. Christine always knew it was more than coincidence she was a Pisces—born March the first. It made sense that a girl who loved the water as much as she did would be a fish herself.

"Of course I'll be careful!" Christine had replied, looking up at her father. "You'll only use it on a boat, and promise ye won't over-fish?" Christine nodded her tousled head vigorously, "Of course, Daddy! The ocean gives us what we need, and I'll take nothing more!" That sentence was a family code, one Christine believed in heartily. Christine's father's replying smile was dazzling. He ruffled his daughter's mess of curls, and patted her on the head.

Christine again looked at her harpoon again. In six-year-old hands, the harpoon looked monstrous, deadly; even with the little pink-and-blue tassel below the arrowhead. Christine returned her gaze to her father, "Thank you, Daddy! I'll treasure it forever!" She beamed at her father, setting the harpoon down to launch herself at Gustave. He caught his daughter, spinning her around in a circle. "What is all this ruckus?" Charlotte called, stepping out from below deck. Gustave set Christine down. She picked up her harpoon before running to her mother. "Look, Mamma! Daddy gave me a harpoon!" She brandished the weapon at her mother. Charlotte grinned, "My little Seagirl. You are just like your father, aren't you?" Christine beamed, showing a missing tooth. "I'd say she's jest like 'er mother." Gustave replied. Christine stared at her harpoon, before wandering to the side of the boat, looking into the watery depths. She leaned carefully over the edge, seeing what looked like the face of a young boy under the surface. His eyes, a brilliant emerald green, shone despite the sun. The eyes were a stark contrast from his coal hair, which floated around him. When he caught her looking at him, he was gone so fast Christine wondered if she actually saw him. "The sea is mighty lovely, isn't she, Fish?" Gustave asked, placing an arm around his daughter. "She is." Christine replied, stepping down from her perch, returning to her harpoon. Her parents smiled at their little Seagirl.

Christine looked out at the water, smiling at past recollections, as the boat sped after a pod of whales, fifty nautical miles out. They wanted to get ten or fifteen miles closer, before they could start the hunt. Christine fingered her harpoon, still thinking about the past, even as the present continued unbidden.

Though she acutely felt her mother's presence aboard the ship, she still missed her terribly....