A few days later, Maurissa came in while Erik was composing. She was acting oddly. Rarely did she bother him as he played, preferring to either listen silently, enraptured by his gossamer melodies, or to simply leave him in peace while she saw to the rest of the house. Over the last few months, She had made herself comfortable, in his home, his presence, and his bed. As shocked as he had been the first time she had hinted at wanting to bed him, all thoughts of her leaving were drained in those first few moments of her touch, and the soft, salty, sweetness of her skin... He may never burn for anyone as he had Christine, but God had given him perhaps a last chance at some semblance of happiness, and be damned! He was going to have her!

The last two weeks or so, however, she had become more and more strange. She was paler, more withdrawn than usual, and now she got up well before he did, whereas before she had been more than content to lie in his arms until he rose. He feared that he was losing her to the world above. She hadn't gone up since she had come to him, allowing him to go up to fetch whatever items they may need instead, but he knew what a siren's call it must hold for her; her, a creature of sunlight and beauty. Even he had struggled for life above, long before he had ever made his home below. He was losing her... just as he had lost Christine.... Oh, Christine....

As she laid a gentle hand on his arm, making him turn from his music to glance up at her, he laid one ungloved hand, so unnaturally long and cold, and yet so graceful with the hidden music that he alone followed, on the hand on his arm. Something was bothering her... She wanted to leave? Was that it? She had come to tell him now that her things were packed, and she was ready to go back up. He could half see her calmly explaining to him how it had been fun for a while, but nobody, after all, wanted to live in catacombs all their lives, especially beautiful young women like herself, and so she was going... He braced for it as she began to speak.

"Erik.... Can I... Can I talk with you a moment?" Her voice was unsteady, as though she wasn't quite certain how to begin. At least she was attempting to be kind about it...

"Of course, chérie," he heard himself murmur in response, his thoughts more on what he feared she would say, then on what she was saying...

"Erik, I don't know how to tell you this... I... I do hope you won't be terribly angry... I beg you not to make me go when you hear this... I couldn't bear to leave you... not now... But... well..." She twisted her hands in themselves, clearly unhappy and uncomfortable.

Then came the bombshell... "Erik...." She took a deep breath; he watched her chest rise and fall with it, getting ready to let her go... "Erik... I'm pregnant..."

"Of course... I underst....." He stopped in the middle of his sentence, feeling as though something had knocked the breath out of him as her words finally sank in... She was... pregnant? But how? Who? He had been nearly certain that she had not gone up... He spoke without thinking. "Who's.... is it?"

"Why... yours of course!" Her brows furrowed in hurt anger. "You do not think I would play you false, do you, my love? I wouldn't... I swear it..." She was getting upset; tears were filling her eyes. She was frightened that he was displeased with her. She was afraid of him! Her words, and what they implied, where just beginning to sink in...

"Mine...?" His voice was hoarse, more a croak, as he struggled for breath. "M... Mine? But... I mean..." He was going to be a father... At last, the meaning struck him full force... He, Erik Destler, Opera Ghost and Phantom, scarred freak show... was going to be a Father! With a loud exhale, and a noise suspiciously like a 'whoop,' he stood and swung Maurissa up into his arms. He was going to be a Father! Him! "Maurissa... Cherie.... A child.... My child?!" He laughed with astonished half-doubt, relief, and amazement.

She let out her own breath, infected immediately by his good nature, and relieved that he was not angry, that he would not make her leave... "Yes... Oh, my love... You are happy then? My Erik... You are pleased?"

He swung her around once, and then gently let her go, carefully, as though realizing how delicate she must be. "Chérie... of course I am! This is the greatest gift you could give me, Maurissa... A child... my child... Our child... This is wonderful.... Oh, Maurissa, chérie... Thank you... Thank you!" He felt no shame for the tears that streaked down his unmasked, disfigured features, as he both laughed and sobbed with the knowledge he know held. She hadn't been acting so odd because she wanted to leave... No, no, she was pregnant!... His child...