"Little Giry!" Erik's voice echoed across the caverns of his abode, harsh and loud. He walked over to the little girl's side, before kneeling down to her height. The tone of his voice changed once more. In exasperation, his voice sounded strangely warmer, "Little Giry, remember I told you never to leave my sight?"

"Yes, Uncle Erik," The little girl was near tears. Her lips quivered and her eyes glistened with tears, "Oh, I won't do it again, I promise!"

Before he knew it, six year old Meg Giry had flung her arms around her Uncle Erik's neck. He awkwardly patted her on the back.

"Now, now..." He really had no idea how to comfort the child. As her cries became more and more muffled, Erik could notice the lapels of his coat were growing damper and damper. The self proclaimed Phantom of the Opera sternly cautioned, "Ma petite Meg, it's dangerous down here. It's really, really dangerous. Especially for a little girl like yourself."

"But why?" Meg hiccuped, when the crying seemed to subsist.

Erik hesitated, uncertain of whether the truth of it would scare the girl. Worse, uncertain whether he was going to get an earful from the girl's mother.

"To protect myself, Meg petite." Erik explained, "From the dangers of the world."

"But Uncle Erik!" Meg skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"What?" He listlessly responded to Meg Giry's exclamation, suddenly feeling the pressure upon his knees. Picking up Meg in his arms, he walked her over to sit on a heavily upholstered chaise.

"If the world is dangerous," Meg furrowed her brows in confusion, then looked at Erik earnestly, "Why do you want to make it more dangerous?"

"When will your mother return?" Erik quickly changed the subject, placing one hand at his hip. He scoffed in mockery of his only friend, "She had to go."

"Maman told me that she was going to bring home a sister for me!" Meg happily exclaimed, leaning back comfortably in the chaise. Suddenly, Erik whirled around. He grabbed the back of the chaise and if he hadn't been wearing a mask, his face would have been white.

"What?" He managed to wheeze out, suddenly made aware of his news. She couldn't be! Why had she not told him anything before she left? A thousand questions crossed his mind before he walked over to Meg. He was suddenly aware of the fact that she was a child, a child who laughed and cried and threw (terrible) tantrums. Then he suddenly realized that she was a child, who happened to be Antoinette Giry's child. His Annie.

"I said," Meg paused for emphasis, "Maman would bring home a sister."

"Yes, Meg, I know," He absentmindedly responded to her, as he paced back and forth. Lost in his thoughts, a little voice arose.

"I'm huuuuuungry," Meg whined, patting her fat belly. That was another thing about kids.


He had already put the six year old to bed when Antoinette appeared in front of him, carrying a little girl who was asleep in her arms.

Erik furrowed his eyebrows. That was no baby. The girl, with thick brown hair tied in two tight braids, looked close to Meg in age. For some reason, Erik felt a pang of disappointment in his chest. Madame Giry lifted her up slightly, feeling her arms beginning to loosen grip from having carried this child down.

"Who's that brat?" Erik bluntly asked.

"This is Christine." She whispered, smoothing the back of Christine's head with her palm, "Christine Daae"

"Why is she here?" Erik was bitter now, not bothering to lower his voice.

"Erik, she has no parents. An orphan." Antoinette kissed the top of Christine's head softly, causing her to fidget. Madame Giry continued to explain, sadness in her voice, " She was the only child of Gustave Daae. Monsieur Lefevre insisted that I take her as my own."

"I see." Erik growled, "You leave your child with me for days with no plan of return-"

"Erik, I understand -"

"She wants me to tell her stories, to feed-"

"Erik, I know that -"

"I have other things to do! I have operas to write, music to compose, and I cannot do that if I have to run to that little daughter of yours every time she budges a muscle!" His booming voice began to crescendo. It was a wonder Christine had not awoken.

"Erik," She whispered, glaring at the Opera Ghost. She was beginning to lose her temper as well.

"Antoinette, will you please take your children and leave?" He pointed to where Antoinette had entered, "I do not want to see another child in my sight."

His voice was nearly breaking. Madame Giry could notice it. He folded his arms, turning around and hoped that his best friend knew to leave without him having to shout it again. He watched from the corner of his eyes as Meg was shook awake by her mother. He watched as she let out a little cry, unable to properly open her own eyes. He watched as Madame Giry struggled with two children, before she set Meg down again.

"Meg. Meg! You have to hold my hand." Antoinette's ballet mistress voice kicked in as Meg still refused to awake, "I can't carry you. Meg, do you hear me?"

Two strong hands wrapped around Meg's body, lifting her up. Madame Giry looked up. Erik was carrying her, as naturally as if she were his own flesh and blood.

"I didn't mean it." He curtly told her.

"I know." She smiled warmly at him, her old friend.

"Annie, I love her." He quietly said, looking at the little sleeping girl in his arms, "I love her so much it scares me."

Those were words he had rarely, if ever, used before. Before Antoinette could say anything, he continued.

"She has goodness inside of her, and innocence." He concluded, before looking straight at Madame Giry. His following words seemed no longer to be only directed towards little Meg Giry, "How could someone like that want anything to do with this monster?"

That was when his voice really cracked and if not for the child in her arms, and the child in his arms, she would lean forward to give him a well deserved hug.

"You are not a monster, Erik." She shook her head. A look of determination washed over her face as she bit her lip. Then, he commanded him, "Erik. I want to tell you something else. Put Meg down."

He obliged, as she also set Christine on the bed next to Meg. She watched with a smile on her face as the two little girls held hands.

Then she looked at Erik. She let out a sigh, placing a hand over her stomach as she strode toward him. She leaned up and whispered into his ear with no hesitation. His hands jolted her away from his ear, expressing an odd combination of panic and sheer joy.

"Are you certain?" He asked her again as she nodded with a brimming smile. The man looked over to the two sleeping girls and back to Antoinette Giry with wet eyes, he tried to speak, "Annie..."

When he couldn't find the words to say, his arms tightened around her and his lips pressed against hers.

"Innocent. Good. Talented. Musical. Beautiful." Her hand stroked his cheek as she spoke but the corners of her lips tugged and that was when Antoinette Giry found it hard to suppress pure happiness, "Just like his father."

A/N: I'm sorry I went a tad overboard with the ending. That's what fanfiction is, right? For now, this will remain a one-shot but we can see what happens! Thank you so much for reading. P.S. This is ALW-verse, if you couldn't tell. Thank you so much for reading and if you can, please leave a review!