Sorry, sorry, sorry! I hoped I would be able to get this one done by last Monday, but real life had other plans... SIGH! Anyway, the good news is, it's not quite the last chapter yet as I thought, but I guess the next one will be it. We'll see... Thank you once again to all my loyal readers and reviewers, to those who put this story on alert or added it to their favorites. I certainly could not do it without you all! You are fabulous!

I still don't own anything or anybody whom you recognize from any version of POTO, but that's life, I guess. (shrug) And now, without further ado, pn tp the next chapter.

Chapter 37 - Birth

While Erik was able to be more relaxed at home after having revealed his face to his servants and having been accepted by them, he became more and more nervous the closer Christine got to the birth of their baby. He could not help but worry that history would repeat itself and something similar to Isabelle's birth might happen again.

Christine was touched by Erik's worry, since it only showed her how deeply he cared for her, how much he needed her and how utterly lost he would be without her. On the other hand, she wished she could somehow calm his fears and convince him that everything would be fine.

"I wish you could concentrate more on the baby," she once told Erik. "Think about it, a little being that was created by our love. Are you not looking forward to holding this child, our child?"

Erik fidgeted nervously. "All I can think of is that you almost died when you had your last baby," he whispered. "How can I not be worried? How can I not wish you were not expecting another little angel right now, and thus in danger of losing your life?"

Christine snuggled up to him, grasped his hand and put it flat on her swollen belly. "Here," she said, "feel our baby, feel our child kick. Concentrate on the joy this little one will bring us. How it will bind us together even more. That, unlike the girls, you will be around this one from the start, see the infant grow into a toddler, then a small child and a young person, be there for the entire development of this human being."

Then Christine turned to her belly and talked to her unborn child. "Little Angel," she said, "your papa is worried. He cannot yet look forward to your arrival, because he is so scared that something bad might happen to me. Give him confidence, give him a sign that everything will go fine, that your birth won't harm your mother. Allow him to forget his worries and to experience the joy that you will bring to our lives."

Erik sighed. "It is not that I do not love you already, little one," he told his unborn child. "For I do. But there is so much that has me concerned. Your mother's health and well-being are one thing, your own fate is another. What if I have passed on my curse to you? What if I have condemned an innocent being like you to a life of pain and rejection the way mine was before I met your mother, my angel, my beacon of light?"

It is hard to say whether or not the baby understood its parents' pleas, but it chose that exact moment to move. Christine smiled as she felt the kick. "Our little one will be very special," she told Erik. "I am sure he or she knows exactly what we are thinking and it wanted to reassure us that everything will be fine. Both of us, me and the child."

Erik laid his arm around her and pulled her as close as her huge belly, which was housing their child, allowed. "I just wish this were over, the baby safely in your arms instead of within your body, and both of you alive and well," he told Christine.

Christine nodded. "Soon," she said, "in a few days you will be able to hold our child."

Xxxx

About a week and a half later, in the early morning hours, Christine's water broke. Erik immediately sent Colette to get the midwife and asked Meg to take the girls out for a very long walk and preferably to lunch in a well-known restaurant as well – he knew that the process of giving birth could take hours and he did not want to expose Amélie and Isabelle to their mother's screams. In his opinion that could be rather traumatic for them. He also wanted Meg as far away from Christine's delivery as possible, since it was not appropriate for an unmarried young lady to be too closely involved in such things.

Erik summoned Mme. Giry and Marie, though, to help Christine, while they were waiting for the arrival of the midwife.

Mme. Giry laid a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder. "Calm down, Erik," she said. "You are not the first man ever to become a father, and Christine has already had two healthy babies. Believe me, all will go well. You go down to your music room and try to play. It will relax you."

Erik stared at her wildly. How could she suggest such a thing? "I will not leave Christine," he announced. "I won't let her go through this ordeal alone. It is my fault, that she is in such a condition, it would therefore be extremely unfair to let her deal with the pain and the horrors that lie ahead alone. We are in this together."

"Erik," Christine smiled at him weakly, since she was fighting to remain as relaxed as possible, while being hit by one of the first contractions. "It is not customary for the father to be present during birth..."

Erik frowned. "You do not want me here with you?" he asked surprised.

Christine shook her head. "I did not say that," she reassured him. "Just, that it is unusual. Raoul never stayed when I gave birth to our daughters."

"Well, I am not Raoul," Erik growled. "And nothing and nobody will pry me from your side, when you will be in pain and need somebody with you to comfort you, to help you relax. I stay, that is my last word."

Christine beamed. "Angel," she whispered, "my dear, dear Angel."

The tender moment between the couple was interrupted by the arrival of the midwife. "Oh, the little one is about to make its appearance," she said, smiling encouragingly at Christine. Then she turned to Erik. "Monsieur Dumesnil, if I may ask you to leave the room now," she told him. "I assure you, Madame is in the best hands and soon you will have a new son or daughter."

Erik glared at the midwife. "I am not leaving," he informed her. "Christine needs me. I am not going to abandon my wife when she is about to go through an ordeal."

"My husband won't be in the way," Christine chimed in. "But his presence will help me relax. Please, I know it is unusual, but I promise you, this will be for the best."

Christine reached for Erik's hand and grasped it, to demonstrate their bond. The midwife sighed. "It is inappropriate," she lamely objected. "A gentleman should not be around when a lady has to be so exposed during the birth of her child."

Christine grinned. "Erik is my husband," she reminded the midwife. "The father of the baby I am about to give birth to. Do you really think..." She blushed deeply. "I mean," she stammered, "how could I be expecting a baby if he... umh... were not familiar... with umh... certain parts of my anatomy?"

The midwife rolled her eyes. Of course the couple had had to be intimate in order to create a child, but doing certain things once the lights went out and one could not see too clearly was definitely different from the gentleman being allowed to look at...

Erik chuckled. "I won't look," he promised, "if that causes you concern. All I will do, is sit here, next to my wife, hold her, comfort her, let her grip my hand when the pain is too much for her to bear and try to calm her."

Christine joined his pleas. "Please," she said. "It will be so much easier for me with Erik by my side, and then, it's his baby, too. He has a right to be here when our little one is being born."

The midwife realized that the couple was determined to go through this together, and that it would cause more harm than good to send the husband out, since it would probably unnecessarily agitate the mother-to-be. So she relented.

"Fine," she said. "We will give this a try. But Monsieur, the moment I see you go queasy or give me any other reason to think that your presence here might be a hindrance, I will have to ask you to leave."

Erik sat down on the bed and put an arm around Christine. She was so pale, her face sweaty, her dark curls sticking to her face. He was worried sick that this might be the end of their time together, that the baby would cost Christine her life. He needed to be with her, to not abandon her, when the end came, he had to show her his love once again, so that she could take that feeling with her, if things went wrong, if the unthinkable happened and he lost her...

Christine smiled at Erik reassuringly. "I will be fine," she told him. "Especially with you by my side. All will go well, and in a few hours we will be able to hold our baby. Focus on that. Concentrate on the joy we will feel, when the little one will finally be here."

Erik nodded, then pulled Christine close when another contraction hit her. Christine barely suppressed a groan, but she snuggled into Erik's arm. "My pillar of strength," she whispered.

Erik began to hum to her softly and Christine relaxed visibly. The midwife was surprised. She had expected Erik to be in the way, to fret, to distract her from her work, but this Monsieur Dumesnil was different from other husbands, and his bond with his wife was unlike any other she had ever witnessed between a couple. It was obvious that her patient was much calmer than most women were in her situation, and that this was exclusively due to the presence of her husband.

Even though it was Christine's third delivery, it still took a few hours until she was sufficiently dilated and could start to push. By that time Erik was at the end of his nerves. Christine's contractions were succeeding each other in such close intervals now, that she barely seemed able to recover from the pain, before the next one hit, and he feared he might lose her any moment. But he tried his best not to show his worry. He continued to hum to her, to hold her, to show her his love and support in any way he could think of.

"If she has to go, she needs to go in peace," he thought. "She needs to be enveloped by my love, and with the knowledge that nothing can sever our bond, not even death."

"I can see the baby's head already," the midwife announced cheerfully. "At the next contraction, push with all your might, Madame!"

Christine nodded, and obediently pushed, when a wave of pain tore through her body.

"The head is out," the midwife informed her. "One more push and you should be done."

Christine nodded, trying hard to stay focused. She was almost done. Only a few more minutes... She could not finish the thought, as another wave of pain hit her. She pushed instinctively, almost breaking Erik's arm in the process, which she had grasped for support.

As Christine fell back into her pillow, exhausted, the first screams of a newborn infant resounded through the room. A beautiful smile embellished her exhausted features, as she whispered. "Our baby, Erik, can you hear our child?"

Erik nodded. He was unable to speak. Somehow this ordeal seemed over now, the baby had apparently been born and Christine – she was still alive! She was even conscious, weak and exhausted, yes, but alive and talking to him. "How are you, love?" he asked.

Christine smiled at him. "I am fine, Erik," she whispered excitedly. "Stop worrying. It is over. The baby is here!"

The midwife had in the meantime finished cleaning up the infant and had wrapped the little one in a warm blanket. "Congratulations, Madame, Monsieur," she said, laying the child into Christine's waiting arms. "You have a son."

Christine beamed. "Oh Erik, look at him," she said, "our baby. Our son. A brother for our two girls. He is adorable."

Erik hesitantly glanced at the bundle in Christine's arms, overwhelmed now by his other fear, that the baby might have inherited his deformity. "Is he...?" he nervously asked.

Christine shook her head. "He is absolutely perfect," she told him. "Look at your son, Erik." Erik finally dared looking at his son's face and gasped in wonder. The tiny little being was still red and wrinkled after having made his way through the narrow birth canal, but to him he seemed the most beautiful little boy ever. The tiny face was flawless, not the slightest unevenness or irritation of skin could be detected. The tiny head showed the beginning growth of soft hair, the same color as Christine's curls, and when the little boy opened his eyes, Erik almost felt like looking into a mirror. The baby's eyes were the exact same shape and color as his own.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Christine asked. Erik nodded, in awe.

"How is this possible?" he whispered. "How could we create such a beautiful child?"

The midwife had cleaned up Christine in the meantime as well. "I am finished here," she announced. "Madame should rest now. I will check on her tomorrow, but I do not expect any complications. Both, mother and baby are fine, and Madame, since you have had two babies already, I take it you know how to feed your new son?"

Christine nodded. "Thank you," she replied. "Yes, I know how to care for this infant."

Once the midwife had left the room, Christine looked at Erik. "Your mask," she reminded him. "Let our son see your true face."

Erik hesitated for another moment. "He is still so small, and he has just been through an ordeal as well. Imagine how different things must be for him now that he is finally out of your womb. Do you really think he is up for yet another shock?"

Christine smiled. "He is our son," she reminded Erik. "He will love your face. Trust me."

Erik took a deep breath, then slowly began to peel the mask off his face, while Christine softly talked to her newborn son. "This is your father," she told the baby. "You know and recognize his voice already, don't you? He fears you might not like him because of his unusual face. But you are not that stupid, right? You understand that true beauty is not always on the outside, but lies in a person's heart, and your papa has a heart of gold and so much love to give."

Erik had finished removing his mask and hesitantly turned towards the infant again. "I am afraid, son," he said, "that you have probably the ugliest father a child ever had. There is nothing I can do about that, but I will try my best, to be the best father you could wish for, for I love you with all my heart. You, your mother, who is the light of my life, and your two older sisters."

The baby wriggled in Christine's arms. "I think he wants you to hold him," Christine informed Erik, extending the infant to her husband.

Erik hesitated. "I …," he mumbled nervously. "Do you think... I mean... I have never... I don't want to harm him..."

Christine laughed. "It's easy," she told him. "Here, let me show you!" And she laid the baby into Erik's arms, showing him how he had to support the little head.

Erik stiffly held his son. His heart was overflowing with love for the tiny being in his arms. After the stressful hours that had preceded the boy's birth, he was finally able to relax and the joy of being a father set in. Erik smiled at the infant, then began to hum a lullaby. The baby happily settled into his father's arms and fell asleep.

Christine's heart melted at seeing father and son together like that. "You are a wonderful father, Erik," she told her husband. "You are a natural with babies. Look, how peacefully our son is sleeping now." Then she remembered something. "What do you want to call him?" she asked Erik.

Erik hesitated. Christine had approached the topic of choosing a name for the baby several times during her pregnancy, but he had never been able to concentrate on this particular problem. He had pushed the thought of the baby as far back as possible, since he had been so convinced that he would lose Christine in childbirth, and the baby would most likely not survive either. Now, he held his newborn son, and his wife was beginning to recover from her ordeal. All had gone well, despite his fears! And now he had a son and no idea what they could name the baby.

"I don't know," Erik confessed sheepishly. "I had never thought... I did not expect..."

"I told you, it would be fine," Christine gently chided him. "So, about his name. Do you have any preferences? Any name you have always liked, or a name that runs in your family?"

Erik shook his head. "How about you?" he asked. "Do you favor a certain name?"

Christine hesitated for a moment, then suggested. "I had thought about naming him after my dear papa. After all, I am sure that it was him, who sent me my Angel of Music, who made sure I met you again, and who found a way to bring us together, once I had finally realized that I belong with you."

Erik nodded. "Gustave," he said. "A good, strong name, and the name of a great musician."

Christine smiled. "We could maybe use your father's name as our son's middle name," she suggested. "Family and roots are important for a child."

"Gustave Charles," Erik tried out the name they had chosen. "Named after his two grandfathers. We certainly could do worse."

At that moment, Christine heard a commotion downstairs, and the fresh voices of her two daughters, happily telling auntie 'Toinette and uncle Nadir, where they had been and what they had seen.

"Our daughters," Christine whispered to Erik. "Meg is back with them, just in time to welcome their new brother. Please, Erik, bring them in for a few moments, so that they can see him."

Erik hesitantly put the sleeping baby back into Christine's arms and went to get Amélie and Isabelle. A few moments later, he returned with the two girls. Amélie and Isabelle tiptoed to their mother's bed. They were a bit concerned to see her so pale, but when they spotted the tiny bundle in her arms, they smiled in awe.

"How cute he is," Amélie whispered, and Isabelle added, "so tiny!"

Christine smiled. "You both were once just as tiny, but just like you, your brother will grow. Think about little Lothar von Reifenstein. He was just as tiny when he was born last summer, and now he is strong enough to sit and beginning to crawl. Our Gustave will grow and develop the same way, and in about a year he will be running around the garden with the two of you."

Erik smiled at his family. His family. He still was not quite used to the fact that he, the disfigured freak, could actually have a family. But here they were, his wife, his two adorable daughters – he tended to forget that they were not biologically his, since he loved them as if they were – and his son. He, the monster, had a family. Like any normal man.