MARIA
At last, she can breathe; she can relax her exhausted body after so many hours of labor. Her head falls back onto the pillow as Madame Giry cleans the newborn with a towel.
"It's a girl, Christine." The old woman tells the new mother.
The baby's first cry is loud and clear; she isn't sure what kind of world she's in. She is scared and wants to returns to her safe womb, but that's not how it works. Giry wraps the child in a pink blanket and hands her to her daughter, Meg.
"Oh, she's lovely," Meg smiles as she walks to the bed, where Christine lies, breathing heavily. "Would you like to hold her?"
"Meg, you know she needs her rest," Giry scolds at her, "She's been through too much for one day."
"No!" Christine croaks out, "I want to see her. Please."
Meg turns to her mother with an I-told-you-so look. And so, the old woman sighs in defeat. There, Meg hands the child to Christine. Soon, the baby stops crying. "We'll leave you too alone for a little bit." Both Girys head for the door and out of the bedroom.
Christine looks down at the bundle: her daughter is prefect. She has Christine's nose, chin, and bits of hair with the same color brown as her mother's. Christine brushes her cheek with her fingers as tears of joy roll down her face. She holds up the child in front of her as the infant opens her eyes for the first time. Her eyes are a silver blue. When she sees Christine, she starts to coo. Her mother holds her child tight as she starts to cry happily.
"My sweet angel," Christine whispers in the baby's ear, kissing her head, "You're very beautiful, indeed." She holds her daughter close to her warm chest, "I shall name you Maria, after my mother." From the door, Madame Giry watches the two bond, but she looks considered. She quickly walks away.
Madame Giry walks out on the patio and shuts the front door. It's quite chilly and rather foggy, but she has a scarf and a lantern with her. Just then, a figure dressed in black takes a step out of the shadows with his head tilted down at the cold ground.
"How is she?" The figure asks in a calm, yet firm tone.
"She's resting and she had a girl, monsieur," Giry isn't afraid to speak to the mysterious man.
There is a moment of silence before the man speaks. "Do you know the name of the child?"
"Maria,"
"Is she . . . beautiful?"
"Just like her mother," Giry walks up the man in black as he raises his head up to her face. It's Erik! He is wearing his white mask that covers half of his face. "You and I know that you're the father. Don't think I know nothing."
"The Vicomte. You are certain that he is-"
"Yes, I am certain," The Phantom looks away, "She needs you. Not only Christine, but the child. She's your daughter."
"The Child of the Devil."
"Don't say that!"
"It's true! Besides, she probably doesn't want me around her or the baby."
"Maybe she does."
"What makes you say that?"
Giry looks at him with a serious glare. "She is alone. She has no one. She has nowhere to go, nowhere to raise the little one. You are the only one who can help her."
"And you can't?"
"I have my duties at the new opera house and don't have the time, but if you choose to help Christine, I will always be there for both of you. Meg and I will always help out."
Erik steps back from the old woman. He doesn't know what to do. Everyone thinks he's dead, except for Madame Giry of course, but what if people finds out that he is still alive? He would put Christine's life, including his own life in danger. Also, he doesn't know how to be a parent. His own parents never loved him because of his deformity. Yes, his hideous face! He's glad to hear that the child isn't cursed with that, but her father is a Phantom. A monster! There is no way that she would accept him as he is. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."
"Erik. Just try to talk to her. I heard her say something about leaving Paris to start a better life, so . . . I suggest you see her as soon as possible. But it's your choice," She walks back into the apartment, leaving the former ghost out in the cold.
The Phantom looks up at the window with its lights on; the room where Christine is resting in. He would return there tomorrow night . . .
The following night, Christine sits in front of the fireplace as the small flame crackles quietly. She sits up straight and has her eyes closed. She is trying to rest her mind; she has been through quite a lot lately. Some good, some bad. Suddenly, the window opens slightly, but she doesn't notices. A dark shadow slips in the room. Just then, Maria starts crying from her crib; she must have gotten chilly from the cold breeze. Christine stands up from her chair, when she turns around, she gasps. Erik is in the room! She can't believe her eyes, he's alive!
"Erik!" Christine whispers in shock, "You're . . . you're here!"
Maria's cry cuts her short, so she starts to walk forward, but Erik stops her. In the room there is a black, grand piano. He stares at the keys and grins. With his fingers, he begins to play a soft tone. Maria's crying becomes whimpers and soon mewling. The lullaby seems to calm her down, which surprises both Christine and Erik. When the music stops, the baby is silent. Erik removes his fingers from the massive instrument.
"I apologize for intruding," Erik says to Christine without looking at her.
"She has your passion for music."
"She just likes the melody of the piano."
"I think it's more than that."
Christine walks over to the crib and reaches in for her daughter. Wrapping her in a blanket, she carries Maria in her arms.
Erik quickly turns away. "Well, I . . ." he clears his throat, "I believe I came at the wrong time-"
"Wait!" Christine stops him, "Would you like to hold her?"
He turns to her with widen eyes as she gently places the child in his arms. He tries to give her back, but it's too late. He is holding his daughter for the first time. Erik looks down at the bundle, there the baby opens her eyes. She stares up at him, reaching her hands up to his cheek and mask. His mask; the disguise for his ugliness. She isn't ready to see that. Not yet that is. Her eyes are the same silver blue as his. Just then, she starts laughing and begins tugging on his collar.
Christine can't help, but giggle. "She certainly likes your suit." But Erik isn't laugh; he's actually speechless. "Oh, here. Let me take her." Christine hurries over to him and takes the child for he looks like he's going to faint. She realizes that he's never held a baby before. His eyes are filling up with tears.
"My own flesh and blood," Erik tells himself, "My . . . My own daughter." He falls forward.
"Erik!" Christine catches him with her free arm. "Come. Seat by the fire." She guides him to her chair by the fireplace. Maria starts crying again; she thought he was hurt. Erik catches his breath as Christine gets a bottle and begins feeding Maria. She begins to suck on the nozzle as fast as she can. "You're a hungry little one, aren't you?" Her smile fades when she sees Erik petrified face. "Erik? Are you all right?"
"Yes. I'm fine," he finally speaks, "It's just that . . . I never experienced anything like it before."
"It's truly a wonderful feeling. The fact that she's finally here after all this time."
Erik rubs his chin, wondering if he should ask about the Vicomte. Maybe it's too painful to her. Maybe she doesn't want to speak of him again. But he has to know for certain. "I have been hearing rumors about the Vicomte. People say that he has fled the country. Some say he killed himself, but knowing him, he would never do that."
"No. That isn't true," Christine says, "He left for England months ago."
"When is he coming back?" She looks the other way. It finally clicks to him. "He's not coming back, is he?"
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "He was so happy when I told him I was expecting our first born. But he grew suspicious; knowing that we've only been married for a month. One night, he came to me and told me that there was no way that the child was his. I was afraid of the consequences, so I told him the truth. There, he gave me two choices: either I stay with him and drown the child as soon as it was born or leave him forever. I knew he wouldn't do such a thing. Or perhaps he would, finding the child as a disgrace and a curse to him. So the next morning, I packed my things and left."
"You did the right thing, Christine," Erik tells her, "Who know what would have happened if you stayed there any longer."
"I did it for my daughter. For her safety."
"What do you plan to do now?"
Christine sighs. "I'm not sure. I can't sing anymore now I have to take care of Maria. I'm not sure how to earn any money. Plus, I have nowhere to go-"
"You may come live with me."
Christine looks at him. "What did you say?"
"You and Maria may come and live with me at the Opera House. It's been rebuilt and has managers running it. The Girys can help out with the baby while you're performing."
"Performing?"
"Yes, and of course, the opera house needs a Phantom to keep things in place."
"I don't know if I'm ready to go back on stage. It's been too long." Just then, Maria removes her mouth from bottle and Christine holds her up to her shoulder to burp her.
"Christine, you need to think about what is right for you and your daughter. You will have a home, food, money . . . a father." Christine doesn't say anything. "When you left that night, I knew I made a mistake."
"No. You didn't make any mistake," Erik looks at her in confusion, "I made the mistake of leaving you. I thought I made the right decision, but I was wrong. I was only running away from my heart's desire: to be with you, Erik."
She places her hand on the Phantom's mask, feeling the rubbery texture. With a big gulp, she slowly removes the mask from his face, revealing his deformity. She looks into the big gash on his right side, the exposing skull tissue, the right nostril that never grew, the right cheek covered in wrinkles, and the missing eyebrow. Christine brushes her fingers through his dark, black hair. When she touches his cheek, he pulls away, covering the dorm part.
"What was I thinking?" Erik asks him, "Both of you would suffer with this . . . this face. This cursed face! It's bad enough her father's a monster." He walks over to the window, hiding his shame.
Christine is shocked to hear this. She doesn't think of him as a monster. She only cares on what's on the inside. There, she sees him as a kind, gentle, caring man who loves her so. No distortion. No ugliness. Only beauty. If she sees him that way, Maria will, too. She needs a father more than anything. She needs both her parents to care and love her with all their hearts. Christine walks over to Erik's side with Maria in her arms and sets her hand on his shoulder.
"Erik," she looks at him in the eyes, "You're not a monster. You never were. I see nothing but pure beauty. We will never suffer. We need you, our daughter needs you. Give her all your love and hold her in a special part ever of your heart for she'll do the same thing . . . And so will I."
She hands the child back to Erik, who this time has a bit more confidences than before. Maria looks up at her father and spots his deformity. Erik freezes: how will she react? Will she start crying? Will she hate him for the rest of her life? The baby places her hand on his cheek, making Erik shutter. She doesn't cry or fuss or scream at all. She cuddles close to his chest, rubbing her head on his jacket.
"Don't you fret, Maria," Erik holds her close to him, "I will always be here, I promise." After he kisses her on the head, he turns to Christine, who is smiling ever so bright. Erik wipes away her tears with his hand. There, he pulls her in and kisses her on the lips. It lasts for a few seconds before they part. "And I'll always be here for you, Christine."
"Say you'll love me until the day I die."
"Oh, longer than that."
"Forever?"
"Much longer."
"Forever and ever?"
"Even . . . longer," Before he could finish his sentence, they kiss on the lips. It lasts for a few seconds before they part. Then, they look down at Maria as she drifts off to sleep in Erik's arm while Christine hangs over his shoulder.
This is only the begin of something that will last a lifetime.