The birth of a child was supposed to be the most amazing moment in a young woman's life. Most girls of Paris dreamt of having a darling baby to spoil. A little boy that they could raise to be a gentleman, a son that would grow up to be a strong husband and loving father. Or perhaps a little girl that could be adorned in all the dresses of France. A daughter that would become a loving wife and mother. These were the dreams of the rich and yet none of these thoughts passed through the mind of Christine Daae as she hit her fourteenth hour of labour.

As a child, Christine often fantasized about being an adult. In fact, she had planned her life down to every stitch of detail. She wanted to marry her best friend, Raoul de Chagny. They would have 3 children, 2 boys with a girl as the youngest. They would live together in a house just outside Paris, where the air was clean but they could still travel into the city when the urge came over them. She had longed for this life for as long as she had known the boy, yet all her dreams, her meticulously planned life, had been torn away by a decision she made nine months prior.

She vowed herself to a man named Erik to save her beloved Raoul. She would have been content to die underground so Paris could live, but she had promised away her death as well, her cursed vow to be a "living bride" to the living corpse of a man she was forced to call her husband.

All thoughts of the past were promptly stripped away as another contraction tore through her. Her only friend, a man she called The Daroga, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're almost there Christine, you're doing wonderful. You need to give one last push when I say so."

It was a breached birth. Christine had hoped the Daroga could see the face of her child first, either to ease her mind or confirm her fears. But no, she had to remain oblivious until the very end.

"Ok you need to push… now!"

Christine pushed with all her strength to get the child out of her. For a moment she wished Erik was in the room so she could have another hand to hold, but he had been instructed to wait outside. She continued to push until she felt a sudden release of pressure as the baby was born. Christine threw her head back into her pillow to catch her breathe as the most beautiful, melodic cry weakly filled the room.

"My baby," she said, desperately grabbing the air. "Where is my baby?"

The Daroga dutifully wrapped the infant in the fluffy blanket that had been prepared, being careful not to lock eyes with the waiting mother. He passed the swaddled bundle into her arms. His eyes lowered to the ground to avoid Christine's gaze. "I'm terribly sorry".

Outside the room, Erik had been waiting for hours. He had been forced out at the tenth hour of labour and had been standing outside perfectly still. He had listened to each scream his precious Christine had cried. Each scream cut his soul deeper as he knew it was his fault she was experiencing such pain. But eventually the cries of his wife ceased and he heard a new cry: the weak cry of his child. He waited until the Daroga came out of the room. His old acquaintance said nothing and instead simply nodded.

Erik rushed into the room. Christine jumped when he entered. He walked towards her and noticed her flinch, clutching the baby's face close to her chest. "Let me see," he said. Christine positioned the bundle so the baby was supposedly facing its father, but the blankets covered its face. "Let me see," Erik said again. Christine lowered her gaze and brushed the blanket away from the infants face.

Erik gasped. He never knew it was possible for a human to look like the image that was gracing his vision at that moment. The left side of the child's face was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. The cheek was soft and chubby with a darling rosy glow. The left eye was a piercing dark brown, so dark he almost couldn't see the pupil and the baby had a small tuft of jet black hair that graced only the left side of its head. The right side of the child's face was something ripped from a nightmare. The skin was nearly translucent and had a yellow tint to it. It was pulled tightly over an array of twisted muscle and bone. The eye was sunken into the skull so deeply the only indication there was an eye was the unsettling yellow glow that seemed to emerge from the depths of its skull. The lips were curled and twisted in an unimaginable way and the child had inherited its fathers nose, or rather lack thereof. Sure enough, there was a hole in the middle of its face where there should have been a beautiful little nose.

Erik began to cry. "I'm sorry, my Christine," he sobbed. He bent down and buried his masked face into her shoulder. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds being their tears. The baby broke the moment by beginning to fuss, demanding for its mother to pay attention to it.

Christine had to look away. The baby's arms had freed themselves from the confines of the blanket and she could see the appearance of the child's right side affected far more than the face. It's left arm was beautifully chubby and soft, much like any other newborn. It's right arm was terribly skinny, the skin pulled tight around the bone with just a thin layer of anything else in between. All the veins and tendons moved together in a horrible symphony under the paper thin skin as it grasped for its mother. Christine cried as she let the near lifeless hand wrap it's fingers around hers. She kept her eyes averted.

Erik saw the way his bride looked at his child. Part of him was disgusted with her. He hated to see his child covered and shamed by its own mother. But the other part of him simply wanted to cry. It was his fault Christine's child looked that way. He put his hand on her shoulder and she tensed at the feeling of his cold, dead flesh. "Is it… uh… a girl or a boy?" he asked, almost afraid to hear.

She looked up at him. "It's a girl," she said as near tears sprang to her eyes. Erik said nothing. They both knew how high the expectations where for a girls beauty, especially in Paris.

"Is she healthy?" Erik asked.

Christine closed her eyes. "I don't know. She only cried once and it was not that strong. I don't know if… I… I don't know."

That night, Christine slept with the child held in her arms. Erik held a vigil over both of them, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. The image of Christine's face was burned into his mind. He saw the fear in her eyes at the sight of her child. He saw the way she couldn't bear herself to look at the baby and the way she reacted to the infants touch. He saw the pain Christine was going through to pretend it was all ok.

He remembered when Christine had first revealed her pregnancy. She had reassured him that no matter what, she would love the child and come to love her life, but for all her acting skills that was the one lie Erik saw through. He knew she longed for the world above, she longed for a normal life, yet it was the one thing in his power he could not grant.

He faced a difficult choice, but his love for Christine was too great to let her suffer. He knew the one thing holding her back from her freedom was the sleeping baby girl she now held in her arms. He gently took the baby out from her mother's grasp and swept her away into the next room.

The next morning Christine awoke, frantically searching for her child. "Erik, where is she? Where did she go?"

Erik lowered his head and averted her eyes. "She's gone. I'm sorry Christine."

More tears filled her eyes as she mourned her baby. "How did… what happened?"

"Like you said yesterday, she was very weak. I'm so sorry, my angel." There was silence once more until Erik spoke up. "You may leave."

"Pardon?" she asked, certain she misheard.

"You may leave. Go up to the real world. Find that pitiful suitor of yours and go to him. Let him give you the life you always wished for."

She hesitated. They had just lost a child and now he expected her to leave?

"There is nothing left for you here! Leave!" He roared. She jolted away and ran to gather what few belongings she had. Once she was done she returned, holding his golden ring out to him. He accepted it back.

"Goodbye, Erik."

"I love you Christine."

She said nothing. She simply ran.

Erik sat in silence, listening to her footsteps disappear until she was completely gone. He took a breath then walked into the room he had hidden their daughter. She had grown much stronger throughout the night and cried as her father picked her up.

"No ma cherie, please don't cry," he said, gently trying to rock the infant back to sleep.

Her wailing continued as Erik was struck with an idea. He put her down, placed his mask upon his face, then picked her back up. As he suspected, she settled down immediately.

"That's ok darling. I wouldn't want to see that either," he laughed to himself. "I suppose it is just us now," he said, carefully placing her back in her bassinet. "I'm sorry you'll never know your maman, but she loved you far too much for her own good."

The baby settled down and stared up at Erik, her visible eye wide with wonder. "I suppose you'll need a name." He chuckled as his dead finger brushed the black puff of hair on his daughter's head. "You know, little one, the first time your mother truly met me she was starring in an opera called Hannibal. Oh you should have seen her. She played the character of Elissa and she was the most beautiful woman alive. Far to beautiful for the likes of me. Huh, I rather like that. I'll call you Elissa. What do you think?"

The baby blinked in response to his question. "Very well," he chuckled as he tucked his daughter in.