A/N: No, this is not the story that i have been promissing, this is just a story...
Two years after the fire, Christine has died unexpectedly, leaving Raoul and Christine's child motherless. Now it's time for little Lotte to meet the Angel of Music, but is the Angel of Music ready to meet his one year old litte Lotte?
Disclaimer: I own no one... except Lotte, she's mine in this!
RAOUL POV
As the carriage rolls slowly closer to the Paris Opera House I find myself irresistably looking down to the tiny bundle of sheets in my arms. This tiny little bundle that I have come to know and love, and I have come to raise as my own, yet now I know that she is not mine. I guess I always knew that, she looks so much like Christine, her hair and her face, but those eyes, and that voice, they are not mine, nor Christine's, they are the Angel of Music's, they are the Phantom's. Knowing that she is not my flesh and blood I trat her no different, no matter how much the fact eats at my heart. Not even this child being the child of the man I loathe and fear can make me hate her, she is too beautiful for that.
I watch as her face distorts, preparing to cry with that wonderous voice, tears welling in her perfect eyes, those eyes that show no emotion and so much emotion all at once. I cradle her softly and closer as she starts to cry.
"Hush," I whisper, "Hush little Lotte, everything's okay. Hush."
But as all babies seem to do, she ignores me, so I continue to hush her as I search in my bag for her bottle. Finally finding the cursed thing I start feeding her and instantly she ends her cries and settles back in my arm.
She finshes her bottle just as we arrive at the Opera House.
Carefully exiting the carriage, I am instantly greeted by Monsieur Firmin.
"Ah, good Vicomte, how are you?" his smile is quite fake, though the joy in his voice is worse.
"Tired, but I've been much worse, thank you," I give a quick smile and return my attention to the infant in my arms, trying to balance my bag and rock her all at once.
"We were not expecting you. Have you come for business?" his frown appears finally.
"No, Monsieur, you find me here on much more… personal business," he nods and takes his leave without another word.
Easily finding my way through the winding hallways to Christine's old room, I find nothing touched since yesterday, a surprise coming in the fact that the news has not reached yet. Lotte has fallen asleep, and so I lay her on the bed gently and then walk to the mirror.
Oh how I learned to loathe this object, knowing that he spoke to her with it as the barrier.
"I know you are here, Phantom!" I call out.
A terrible and loud laughter instantly fills the room and I fear Lotte might wake up.
Then the laughter dies and a terribly cold voice answers back, "Of course I'm here, but I was expecting a female visitor, someone here for voice lessons. You don't really expect me to teach you, do you?"
"No," I shake my head, "There is something we need to talk about though."
"We need to talk about nothing," he growls back.
I sigh, "It's Christine."
"What?" the voice seems to lose it's echo as the mirror opens and in seconds I find myself pinned to a wall, "If you have hurt her, if she is injured, I swear I will kill you."
His hands are clenched on my throat but I manage to choke out, "She's dead."
His grip relaxes slightly, and then crushes my throat harder, "You bastard! You killed her! You let her die!"
I shake my head, "We… don't… know…" I find it impossible to say more.
"What?" he hisses, relaxing his grip so I can speak.
"We don't know what killed her, but they say it was some sort of virus. They say that it was a complete accident," I explain.
He throws me to the ground, pulls me back up, and one weak fist strikes me, "You let her die!" All of this before he drops to the ground and his body starts to wrack with sobs.
He turns to me and what can be seen of his face is tear stained, "Why did you come to tell me? Why not let me find out with the rest of this godforsaken place? Why?"
The Lotte starts to cry.
"Because," I smirk, "Christine left you a surprise."
He turns toward the crying and then back to me, "Wha-What…?"
I don't answer, but watch as he slowly crawls toward the bed and I follow him. He straightens up onto his feet and stares at her. Picking her up, I hush her and he gives me a look of confususion.
His hand reaches out, as if to touch her, but then quickly recoils and drops to his side, as if afraid of what his touch might do.
Then he turns back to me, "Wh- Who's is…?"
I give him a weak smile, "She's yours."
He looks at me in disbelief, "How do you know?"
"Look at her," I insist, "Look at her eyes, listen to her voice, she is nothing like me."
He gives me the most painful look I've ever seen. His eyes have this deep longing for his child and yet this embedded fear of what this could mean, a feeling of possibly not wanting this child that he has longed for all his life. He's fighting a battle that he can not win on his own.
I look at her, then back at him.
I take his side in this battle, "Do you want to hold her?"
He nods, as if in opening his mouth he might refuse.
I lightly hold her out and as I feel her lifted from my arms I know she is in good hands. He is infinitly gentle with her, handling her as if he were handling a butterfly, the lightest touch possible. In a way the action breaks my heart, giving this child I have come to love as my own to my enemy, but there's a part of me it touches, seeing the way his eyes and soul light up at having this child with him now. It brings a fleeting smile to my face as he cradles her to his chest. When one small hand reaches out for something to grasp, he shifts her to one arm and offers a finger. She holds it and even as she puts it in her mouth he still gives only signs of pure happiness. She starts to giggle and I smile myself. Looking up and making eye contact with him, I see the Phantom is smiling as well.
"What's her name?" he finally whispers, seeing as how she has fallen asleep once more.
"Lotte," I smile and shrug when his eyes shoot daggers at me, "It was Christine's idea. I told her that she could name a girl and I would name a boy. She got to choose."
He looks down at her sadly and I feel guilt get the best of me, "Monsieur-"
"Please," he quickly stops me, "I do have a name."
"Well," I look at him quite more sharply than I meant to, "I was never told that name, so how can I address you with it?"
"My appologies," he lowers his head, "I haven't been the same since she left, forgive my rudeness. My name is Erik."
I start over, "Erik, she never stopped loving you. To her dying day she could never show me unconditional love because deep down she really never loved me. That night, had you not sent her with me, she would have stayed with you. She loved you and fought me at the opposite shore to go back, to stay with you, but I explained that he let you go for your best. She regretted leaving and spoke freely of this fact many times."
The words no longer bring pain, I accepted the fact she did not love me long ago.
He sofltly strokes the infants head, and I feel my heart twist.
"I loved her, Monsieur, and I still do. But I am glad she went with you, my home is no place to raise a child. Children need sunlight and people to grow up near, I can not give Lotte this, but I wish I could," a tear drips onto her forehead and he quickly wipes it away.
I move to his side, "Monsieur, Erik, I came here to do that. The pregnancy had some difficulties at the start and Christine wrote her will in fear fo what was to come. Now I must live by its wishes, and in the third paragraph she stated that she wished for you to be given what money and title she had left in death so you could live a free man. Well, Erik, this entitles you to the small house that we were living in, a hefty some of money, and this child, since you are the birth father as well. The house is right next to the mansion, it's more a small cottage, but it has plenty of space, and she would want you to live there. It is officially on Chagny property, so that makes it private property, and I promise that you will be safe there from the police."
He looks at me as though this were some cruel joke, "How can I believe you?"
"You must," I answer simply.
ERIK POV
How could this man who hates me care enough to do this for me?
I look at the child and the reason dawns: he cares for the child, knowing it is mine, as if it were his own, the way he loved Christine, knowing her heart was mine, but loving her regardless. This man holds more honor than I ever could hope to.
I guess that wishes really do come true, both a noble's and a monster's.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
a/n: please review!
