BIG A/N: This story takes place about two or three years after the opera house burned and Christine has left with Raoul for their little happily ever after (blech). So poor Erik has endured two years returning back to his emo/opium addict self. I didn't feel like writing all that in the story, so I'm just telling you.
This story is a result of my wild and crazy imagination... haven't you ever wondered how Erik would do raising a kid? All by himself?
Disclaimer: I do not own POTO. Erik says I don't own him either. Darn.
It was a late night in the middle of September, and most people in Paris lay safe in their homes, fast asleep. Erik, however, not needing any, was wide awake in front of his organ, furiously scribbling out a song he was currently composing. He found composing a great way to take his mind off of things (namely, Christine) and doing it at night was a lot more productive than during the day when all the hustle and bustle above him distracted him. At night, it was quiet, and peaceful. He sighed and began playing the tune he had written down so far. Suddenly, a piercing shriek cut through the air, startling Erik.
"WHO IS THERE?" he thundered into the darkness, mainly to instill fear in his victim. There was no response. Probably a stupid ballet rat who has fallen into another trap, he thought ruefully. He hated setting them free. He'd let them struggle for a while, just to learn their lesson for sneaking from above the opera house in the first place, and then came and set them free. It usually took a while to get them out of his traps even being as swift and quiet as he was, and he never enjoyed having to warn yet another rat not to speak of what she had seen down here and to never return. They always found themselves back in his trap, anyway. He'd spent a lot less time watching his traps ever since Christine had left with her fop and ever since the burnt opera house had been rebuilt. His composing took a lot more of his time, and other times he'd been knocked out by his opium when he simply needed to forget.
He sighed, put on his mask, and went looking around. After walking around for a while it had become so quiet that he began to think that it was probably his imagination. Grunting in frusteration that he had come halfway through his trap-maze for nothing and disrupting him from his work, he began to make his way back when another scream pierced the darkness.
Erik's patience grew even thinner as the shrieking grew louder and louder. What type of person makes such a dreadful noise like that? The noise continued to increase in volume until he found that the screams came from a basket with a blanket over it. What is this thing?? He lifted the cover off the basket and was surprised to see the last thing he'd ever expect to find in his trap-maze- a baby.
"GIRY!!!" Madame Giry's eyes flew open at the sound of her name. She glanced outside her window and noticed that there was no sign of dawn coming and it was late in the night. Only one person I know would wake me up at such an ungodly hour...
"Giry!" Erik charged into the room through a secret door he had placed next to her mirror.
"What is the problem now, Erik?" Madame Giry asked, tired.
"This is the problem!" Erik held out a basket in front of her. A muffled cry came from underneath the blanket that had been placed on top of it. She gently pulled the blanket off to reveal a wailing, squirming, redfaced baby that looked only a month old.
"Oh my..." she murmured.
"She won't stop that dreadful noise!" Erik said, disgusted.
"The baby's probably hungry, Erik," she answered, picking up the little baby in the basket. She rocked the baby, soothing its cries, and it eventually fell asleep. "Where'd you find him? Or her?"
"Her," he answered, a slight blush covering the visible part of his face. "She managed to get into the trap maze."
"How?" she wondered, still holding the little one.
"Do I look like I know? Or even care?" he demanded, irritated. "I came up to give the baby to you. You can have her."
"Oh Erik, I can't..." Madame Giry said, remorsefully. "I've already got over thirty ballet girls to supervise at all hours during the day, not to mention practice and my meetings with the managers and..." Her schedule was far too busy to care for a little baby such as this one.
"Well the baby isn't staying with me!" Erik made clear.
Madame Giry sighed. "Erik, unless we find the mother, there's nowhere we can take her to. You're going to have to take care of her yourself." Both Erik and Madame Giry shuddered at the thought of the infamous Opera Ghost caring for a delicate little baby.
"I'm not a nanny! I'm a brilliant composer. I have no time for babies," he said, putting emphasis on the word. "Aren't there any orphanages or anything of the sort around here?"
"Not any good ones," Madame Giry answered. "And the only ones available are out of the city."
"I'd be more than happy to place her there," Erik insisted.
"No, Erik, it'd be best if she stayed in the same place she was found, just in case her mother comes looking for her," she sighed.
"And if she never comes?" Erik inquired.
"Then... we'll see what we'll do. Now Erik, please let me sleep," Madame Giry pleaded. "I have a bunch of moody ballet girls to wake up at 5:30 this morning." Without waiting for an answer she turned her back to Erik and went back to her bed to sleep.
Erik exited her room with the basket still in his hand. The baby was back in it, still sleeping peacefully. Erik looked at the small child in the basket. Whatever am I to do with you?
The child continued to sleep even after he'd reached his underground lair. Now permanantly distracted from his composing, Erik looked around for a place for the baby to sleep. He knew that it probably wasn't best to put a baby in a coffin, and he remembered the swan bed. He picked up the child, who was surprisingly light, and gently placed her on the bed. She stirred only a little bit in her sleep when Erik put her down.
Looking at the small child, Erik felt the tiniest bit of compassion, surprising him greatly. It took a lot to stir the heart of the great Opera Ghost. But this little one managed to touch it... a little. He caught himself right before he went soft, and swore. I will not get soft because of this thing! I detest all children! Including this one!! Erik refused to warm up to the annoying squealer. He would only protect it until her mother came back to retrieve her. He sighed, and hoped that the baby's mother would hurry up and come and get her. In the meantime, he had more important things to do.
Poor, unfortunate Erik!! ;)
Review. Pretty please. :)