Author's Note: Hey, everyone! Well, here it is...the long awaited sequel to "Becoming Erik." I put a lot of hard work and a lot of love into this story, so I hope you guys will like it. Just a few quick notes before we begin. First of all, as you already know, Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux, Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Joel Schumacher - not me! Second, because this sequel contains a lot of OC's I've created a list of actors/actresses who I'd choose for the roles to give you an idea of what they should look and sound like (though the ages are off a bit for some because I couldn't find child actors/actresses that I liked for the roles).

Mélodie Chantal Gérard - Mia Wasikowska

Christophe de Chagny - Heath Ledger (RIP)

Alphonse Desmarias - Dick van Dyke

Madame LeBlanc - Angela Lansbury

Sapphira - Salma Hayek

Father Martin - Sir Anthony Hopkins

William Travingston - Colin Morgan

Elizabeth Travingston - Katie McGrath

Disclaimer: The actors/actresses mentioned are in no way associated with this story in real life, and the views expressed in this fanfic are soley the views of the author.

Well, now that that's over with, enjoy the story! I plan to be posting about one chapter a day, so keep your eyes open for more! Please leave a review if you like it! :)

~CaptainHooksGirl~

Prologue

The autumn sky was a dazzling blue. Cloudless and sunny, the day might have been almost warm if not for the breeze blowing in from the north. It was late October, and there was a slight chill in the air, a whispered warning of winter's approach. Already the nights had become cold, transforming the morning dew into a thin layer of frost that glazed each brown blade of grass that crunched underfoot. But the sun was high now, sparkling like diamonds on the surface of the pond where a family of ducks was enjoying an afternoon swim, their iridescent feathers gleaming blue and green as they paddled lazily amid the shallows. But their quiet repose was short-lived, interrupted by a flurry of feathers and frightened quacking as two figures rushed by.

They might have been children, with their raucous laughter and mischievous grins—children or newlyweds. But in fact, they were neither. The way her eyes shone in amorous admiration, the way their kiss burned with passion, the way he held her like she was precious—no one would ever guess that they had been married for more than four years, for they were so obviously infatuated with one another, so incredibly besotted, that it seemed almost scandalous. Never had there been a happier couple in the history of France, for while there were many marriages of convenience in those days, theirs was a marriage of love.

Christine ran up the hill, her skirts and hair dancing wildly in the wind as she tried to outdistance her pursuer. Erik was not far behind, so when he arrived at the top of the hill, he was surprised to find that his wife had simply vanished. He turned to the left, then the right. No Christine. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to see whether she might have snuck up from behind, but still there was no sign of her. He was just about give up when a sudden snatch of color caught his eye, a bright bit of fabric billowing out from behind the trunk of the massive old maple to his left. He smirked.

"Oh, dear! It seems as though Christine has disappeared." He walked closer to the tree, as cool and nonchalant as though he were simply admiring the golden leaves that still clung to its skeletal branches. "I wonder where she could be hiding…"

Christine stifled a giggle, perfectly aware that her husband knew exactly where she was.

"Aha!"

Christine screamed in mock terror as Erik rounded the corner, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close before she had the chance to escape. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his warm breath tickling her cheek.

"Now that I have you, my dear, what are you going to do about it?" There was an impish twinkle in his eyes.

Christine grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to her level and devouring his lips with her own.

"Mmmmhh…Christine," he whispered between kisses, "seducing one's captor is perhaps the oldest trick in the book." He smiled against her lips. "Not original at all."

Christine returned the gesture with a rather mischievous smile of her own. "Who said I was seducing you?" She brought a hand to his cheek—his naked, disfigured, beautiful cheek—and kissed him again. She ran her index finger along his chiseled jaw until it came to rest beneath his chin. "I was merely distracting you."

She removed her right hand from behind her back and waved his wallet in front of his eyes before playfully shoving him away.

Erik frowned, looking ridiculously serious. "Stealing is a crime, Christine. I'm afraid I shall have to demand that you return my personal items immediately."

"You'll have to catch me first."

He raised an eyebrow, silently accepting her challenge. "Pity. You won't escape this time."

Christine ran, but the chase was short-lived. Within moments he had swept her off her feet just as he had the day he'd carried her over the threshold to their new countryside home. She laughed and squealed with delight as he spun her around faster and faster until at last they tumbled down the hillside, landing in a tangled heap at the bottom, breathless and dizzy.

Christine was still laughing as she pushed a stray curl back into place and looked down at Erik who was pinned to the ground beneath her. The wallet lay somewhere in the grass, forgotten. "Does this mean I win?"

Erik smiled up at his wife, the dark chocolate curls spilling over her shoulders radiant in the afternoon sun. "No," he reached up to touch her cheek. "I have already won the only treasure I ever desired. And I will never let her go."

Christine leaned down to kiss her husband. "Good. Because I don't want you to leave."

Erik sighed, frowning. "Sometimes I wonder…even after all this time…if these past four years haven't all been just a dream."

Christine smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "If they are, then I hope we never wake up."

She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, sighing contentedly and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She loved the sound of his heart. It always seemed to give her a boost of confidence, a sort of calm assurance, that her Angel was real, a man of flesh and blood—a man of heart and soul—who loved her more than she'd ever thought possible. Perhaps it was this confidence that gave her the courage to voice a question which she'd never been brave enough to ask before.

"Erik…Have you ever thought of what it might be like to have a family?" She opened her eyes to see his reaction.

Erik frowned, not fully understanding the question. "I have you. What more should I ever need?"

Christine sighed and rolled onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head so that she was resting against his side, staring up into the cloudless autumn sky. "I mean…children…Have you ever thought of what life might be like if we had children?"

Erik sat up. "Are you with child?"

She sighed again. Four years. Four years and still no pregnancy. Meg had conceived almost immediately after her wedding. It was hard to believe that her two best friends had been married more than two years ago. But Raoul seemed to have moved on, and Christine was happy for the two of them. Their son was nearly a year old now, and though Christine enjoyed their visits from time to time, her heart ached for a child of her own. She ran a hand over her barren womb. When she replied, it was barely a whisper, as if she hoped that if no one heard, it might not be true.

"No."