Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters within. Christine, Erik, and Raoul belong to Gaston Leroux. Charles belongs to Susan Kay. The song "Your Daddy's Song" is from 'Ragtime' by Stephen Flaherty, Lynn Ahrens, and Terrence McNally. A bit of the lyrics have been changed or omitted altogether to fit the story line. Basically the general idea is mine, but that's about it. I hope you like it!

Hugs and peaches,

Maya:)

Your Daddy's Son

Christine's eyes opened weakly to the sound of a baby crying somewhere in the distance. The sound grew louder and louder as her consciousness returned to her. Sitting up and looking around the room to locate the noise, she rested back on her elbows as she felt her energy sapped from the small exertion. She closed her eyes and listened to the baby's cries. They were powerful, loud, and long. Her lips curled into a smile as she listened. It wasn't nerve wrecking like most of the sobs of a newborn, but had a musical sound to it. Perhaps he was a natural born singer like his father. Ever since the baby was born three months ago, Christine had not been able to get out of bed.

Rising up from the bed, she gathered up all of her remaining strength and threw her legs over the bed. Grabbing the headboard of the bed, she pulled herself up completely out of the bed. She balanced her weight to one side of her body and started taking small steps towards the sounds of the crying. After a few steps she felt her strength give up entirely and she slowly started collapsing towards the floor. In a whirl she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and lift her up. Looking up she saw that it was Raoul. Smiling her thanks at him faintly, she waited until he placed her on the bed to ask him the question she had been meaning to ask him ever since the baby's birth.

"Raoul, could you bring the baby to me?"

He froze for a moment and then nodded reluctantly. Once he was gone, she began to wonder what the baby would be like or what she could do for the child. What does one do when one was about to see their child for the first time. After a few moments, Raoul came back to the room holding a small swaddled bundle in his arms, the bundle making a few cooing noises. A portly elderly woman followed the couple as they entered the room.

"Sir, I really must protest! I would strongly advise you not to excite Madame too soon, Monsieur. The child could upset her and she could go back into her previous state of mind," the woman warned him as he walked over to her side. Christine looked at Raoul questioningly and then to the woman. He nodded towards the woman and introduced her. "Christine, this is Madame Desmouillins. She has been caring for Charles while you've been ill."

The woman bowed respectfully while Christine digested this.

"Charles?" she whispered to herself, wondering when the child was named.

She wasn't very lucid at the birth. To be fair she hadn't been very lucid until this moment so she hadn't much say in what the child's name would be. She had no qualms with the name, but the sex of the baby was one question of a million that was finally answered. Clutching Charles towards his chest further, he turned towards Madame Desmouillins and, in a low voice, instructed, "Madame, if I wanted your opinion on the subject, I would have asked for it. This is the first time my wife has seen our son and I will not be the one to discourage her." Bowing again, the woman mumbled something under her breath while looking down at the ground, chastised. Looking over at the rocking chair, she gestured to it and asked, "Raoul, could you…"

"Oh, of course!" he stuttered quickly as if he felt a fool for not having thought of it himself. He motioned for Madame Desmouillins to take Charles while he picked Christine up. Once she was placed in the wooden rocking chair, he wrapped a white crocheted wrap around her shoulders. Raoul took Charles from the nurses' arms and walked ever so slowly as though he was scared that if he were too quick he would upset her or drop the child. "You may leave us now," he informed the woman in the corner. When she was gone, Christine held her arms out to hold the child. He kneeled down cautiously and placed the small bundle in her arms and sat back on his heels to observe the pair.

Looking down at the small, pale face resting against her arm, she regarded him with a degree of awe. Charles opened his eyes sleepily and looked up at her curiously, as if trying to remember if, in his short lifespan, he could remember her. When he came to the conclusion that he didn't he started to wail. Surprised at the energy in the shriek, Christine jumped. Raoul was up immediately to take Charles from her arms, worried that the scream would frightened her enough that she would fall back into her previous catatonic state. Shaking her head, she pulled Charles closer to her and started rocking the chair. Looking on hopelessly, Raoul let his hands fall to his side in a sign of defeat.

The screams were eventually overpowered by a sound far sweeter. The sound of her humming brought the small baby to a halt in his crying fit. Eventually her mouth opened, formed a circle with her lips and sang on the vowel "o." The rocking of the chair and the sound of the sweet soprano eventually coaxed the child's whimpering to complete silence. For the next few moments the room was peaceful and calm. Christine turned to Raoul and stopped singing. "May I have a few moments alone with him?"

He seemed skeptical to leave her alone in the room with such a precious thing as their child, but the pleading look in her eyes made his will bend. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek. "I won't be far should you need me. Don't hesitate to call for me if you need to."

She assured him that she would and, when he was gone, she looked down at the small body in her arms. Charles squirmed as though he wanted to be free of the cocoon of blankets that imprisoned his limbs. Loosening the grip that the blanket had around his arms, he abruptly freed his little arms and started flailing his arms around. Taking one of his hands in hers, she held it gently. Instead of fighting it, his body went limp in her arms. His dark brown eyes looked up at her, sparkling in the early morning light and he wrapped his fingers around one of her fingers as tightly as his little body would allow. Moving her finger from side to side leisurely, looking as the small fingers would flex as his body started to demand sleep from him.

Looking deep into warm brown eyes, she felt the first real smile she had felt in the last year cross her lips. His eyes were just like his fathers. Bowing down, she put her lips against the small, smooth forehead. His eyes flew open as her lips touched his skin and looked at her inquisitively.

"Very much like your father," she whispered to him as she watched his reaction to her kiss. Laughing nervously at the remark, she felt her throat tense as tears threatened to overflow. Pressing her lips together to catch the sob that was in danger of escaping, she felt a warm tear fall down her cheek. The tear fell onto the white cotton blanket that enveloped Charles and was absorbed into the material.

He was perfect. Their son was perfect. From his wavy black hair, his brown eyes, full pink lips and sooty eyelashes. He was the result of what had come from nearly two years of pain, fear, love, anger, and so much more. The worst part was knowing that Erik would never know his son. He would have been so proud.

Rocking back and forth with a little more strength, she started humming again until the soft hum became a song.

Daddy played piano,

Played it very well.

Music from those hands could

Catch you like a spell.

He could make you love him

Before the tune was done.

You have your daddy's hands.

You are your daddy's son.

The brown eyes that had slid shut into sleep now opened again, and he let out a small laugh and started gargling. Squirming in her arms at the sound of her voice, she beamed with a grin again and waited until he was calm again until she started to sing again.

Daddy never knew

That you were on your way.

Memories of the night Erik died came back as she looked into the eyes of their child. He all but demanded as his dying wish that she marry Raoul. Maybe by some odd twist of irony he knew of the baby. He told her that if Raoul was a wise man he would marry her before she got away from him. Her head was resting on his chest as he said this and she looked up at him, her eyes red from crying and shook her head, swearing to him that she would never marry anyone else. He wouldn't allow that though. He told her that she must marry for his sake if not for her own. It could have been that he was not in complete control of his senses, was in too much control of his senses, knew of Charles, or was scared that she would be alone the rest of her life. His voice was losing its strength and turning raspier and smaller, dying…

She promised that she would. His last words to her and for his mortal life were, "I love you."

Shaking her head at the memory, she looked down at her son and confessed,

Only thing in my head –

You are your daddy's son.

I couldn't hear music,

I couldn't see light.

Mama, she was frightened,

Crazy from the fright.

Tears without comfort,

Screams without sound.

Only darkness and pain,

The anger and pain,

The blood and the pain!

The sadness was coming through her body in song and she felt guilty for burdening her child with the truth of her madness the last months. Raoul, the doctors, everyone had been harboring the impression that she was in shock from the surgery, but that wasn't it. Not entirely at least. It was as the expression that goes, "It was the straw that broke the camel's back." She knew Erik was with her, at that moment, at every moment and always would be until death claimed her for him. The next line of the song was addressed to Erik.

I buried my heart in the ground!

In the ground -

When they buried you in the ground.

Charles let out a loud moan and started to whimper. The sound broke Christine out of her self-contained world of sorrow. Making soothing sounds, she hummed a softer tone and waited until he was calm again. "Shhh, little one. I'm here," she assured him as he started to cease his crying. When he was calm again, she sang the last line of her song:

Daddy played piano.

I bet he'd be playing still.

Mama can't forget him.

I don't suppose I will.

God wants no excuses.

I have only one:

You have your daddy's hands.

Forgive me,

You are your daddy's son.

She felt the sensation of someone caressing her left cheek and turned her head, expecting to see Raoul.

There was no one there.

In her heart, she recognized the cool, hesitant touch as Erik's. Shutting her eyes, she felt a wave of tranquility wash over her. When her eyes opened up, she nodded to herself in reassurance. She would one day be reunited with Erik, but for now she had their son to care for. He was God's gift to her and to Erik. It saddened her that Charles would always only know Raoul as his father. The sadness was short lived when she reconsidered her sentence. Raoul was a good man and would be a wonderful father to Charles. Erik must have had the same exact sentiment or else he would not have insisted that she marry him. She watched their son sleeping peacefully in her arms, his eyes behind their lids moving occasionally to indicate the exhaustion he must have felt. Sighing to herself, she called out for Raoul.

He was at the door way in a matter of mere seconds, his face flushed and a look of concern, panic and fear playing across his features. He relaxed when he saw that both mother and child were perfectly fine and walked over to the side of the rocking chair. Putting a hand on Charles' forehead, he smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose. Smirking at the image, Christine nodded to herself and leaned back into the chair. Raoul would be his father, yes, but Charles would always be his daddy's son.

Like it? Hate it? Too insipid? Please read and review!

Hugs and peaches,

Maya :)