Erik walked silently outside the opera house, the memories rushing back into his mind.
He had been under the populaire, with Christine.
She had kissed him. Then he had let her go with Raoul. He told himself that he couldn't regret it. Christine was happy with the viscount. She wasn't happy with him although he wished she would have chosen him instead.
But before that, he remembered the performance. When she had grabbed his mask and exposed him on stage. He couldn't forget that moment. No matter how much he tried to think of anything else-
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone wailing.
He spun around, making sure his mask was in place. "Who's there" he called out. The crying continued, but no one else was out. Why would anyone be? Erik asked himself. It's freezing out here.
Still, he searched, trying to find the source of the noise. At last, he came across a small worn out basket. The crying was louder near it, and Erik held his breath as he approached it, terrified of what he was thinking.
As he looked in the basket, he saw he had been correct.
A small baby was in the basket, wailing. A strong gust of wind blew passed them making Erik slightly shiver. The baby was obviously freezing cold as well and the thin cloth covering it's body wasn't providing much warmth. He lifted the baby out of the basket. it was wearing a dirty white shirt that was much too big for him. "Shh," Erik softly shushed the baby. He gently rubbed it's back, when something caught his eyes. A small piece of paper had been in the basket. He grabbed it, still holding the baby, who continued to sob. The handwriting on the paper was messy but he could make out the writing.
I'm sorry. I have to give him up. My family can't afford another child. Hell! I'm only thirteen! I don't know how I got pregnant. I swear I never even had a boyfriend! I tried the orphanage but they wouldn't take him. They say he's cursed. There is nothing wrong with him. He was born only a few weeks ago. The doctor says he's perfectly healthy. I can only hope that someone will give him a home.
He couldn't read the name. The handwriting was too messy, as if she wanted to make sure no one knew who she was. The baby in Erik's arm suddenly began coughing weakly. Erik shoved the note into his pocket and stood up. "It's ok," he said softly. "You'll be ok. I'll take care of you."
The boy continued to cough until he drifted into sleep. Erik quickly went back to the opera house and went inside. This boy needed a doctor. "Madame Giry" he practically shouted once he found he. "Erik, what-" she began before seeing the baby "Erik, who-" "He was on the streets," Erik said. He handed her the note. "He's ill. He needs a doctor" Madame Giry read the note, then took the boy from him. "I have a friend who is a doctor," she said. "I'll take him to him right away." She gently shushed the baby, who was sobbing again. Erik simply went back to the catacombs and waited.
Erik played his organ. "You have come here," he sang softly. "In pursue of your deepest urge. In peruse of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent."
He stopped playing and tuned around. Madame Giry was there, cradling the baby in her arms. Erik stood up and walked towards her. The baby was asleep, and wrapped in a blanket. "Well?" he asked. "He has a bad cold," she said. "But other than that, he's fine. the cold didn't hurt him too bad," she handed him to Erik. Erik cradled the baby, who sneezed and whimpered softly. "He needs a name, though" Madame Giry said. Erik looked at the baby boy in his arms before saying, "Aaron."
Madame Giry smiled before showing Erik how to care for the baby. Then she left, smiling at Aaron. Erik sat down at his organ and gently smiled at Aaron. "I'll protect you," he said softly. "I promise."