Legal Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera.

Notes: This is after Susan Kay's Phantom, and for the story I changed things a bit. When Christine went to Erik on his deathbed, after they conceived Charles she did not stay to watch him die. Instead, Erik told her to leave, that dying was something that should be done in

The Phantom's Legacy
Written: 9/13/04

XXX

Was The Opera Ghost happy?

Words could not describe. If only they were sufficient enough to convey the joy that was filling him as he looked upon the object of his obsession and devotion.

Christine Daae laid on his mother's bed, her eyes closed, dark hair around her shoulders. Her face was pale and drawn, chest rising and falling slowly. In her arms rested the small body of her child. Their child.

He hadn't been able to believe it was possible when a month ago, Christine stood in the doorway to Erik's home, stomach swollen with a child, bags under her arms.

"This child is yours." Had been the first thing she said, a hand on her stomach. Erik had only stared. He was further shocked when Christine had insisted that she wished to stay.

Erik hadn't understood how Christine had known that he lived, but she gleefully informed him that the Persian had paid her a visit with some very interesting news about a week before she had left her home with Raoul to come to her angel once more.

Erik couldn't bring himself to be angry at his friend, however. Christine had come willingly to his side, to raise the child they had created together with he as the father.

Erik had never entertained the thought of having a child before. He never wanted to think about a woman loving him, baring his child... and what of his face? He would never wish to burden another child with that torture. Death's curse on the face of an innocent youth... Never should it happen again.

Yet, here Christine was, sound asleep after birthing their baby... and the child was normal. Beautiful, even. Just looking at his perfect little body made tears well within Erik's very soul. The boy's eyes were a very light amber, yet his nose was small and pert, just like Christine's. His hair appeared to be dark, and had a slight wave to it, which made Erik laugh. He would be a fine looking man, of this Erik was sure.

The midwife-brought my Madam Giry-had left already, and the house was still and silent. Erik walked very slowly to the edge of the bed, and lowered himself to sit beside the exhausted woman and look into the wide eyes of his son.

"Charles." He whispered, and extended a cold hand. His son's small fingers twisted around his, and Erik smiled. The baby cooed softly, and Christine stirred, blinking a few times and clearing her throat. She looked up at Erik with love in her eyes.

Erik gently removed his hand from his son's, and stroked Christine's cheeks, tears filling his eyes, and Christine smiled radiantly.

"Oh Erik..." She whispered, her voice thick. She looked down into Charles' eyes and smiled.

"He's perfect... just perfect."

Erik trembled with the tears welling inside of him, and with a shuddering sob, he slumped forward, laying with his head next to Charles', and cried out his joy and fears against his wife's breast, finally able to lean on another in his need. No longer did Erik stand alone.

Soft lips brushed against his forehead, and the words he had always longed to hear washed over him like a soft, soothing wave.

"I love you, Erik."

FIN