A/N: Before we start, just so you know, this chapter skips over several time periods. I hope it all makes sense!

The Phantom of the Opera

Part Ten

"Still no luck," Madame Giry said deftly. Erik did not look up from the organ. He often sat there, even though he was unable to play. He was drawing something with his left hand. She had not known that he was ambidextrous.

"I have come to expect that," he said quietly, still drawing. Marie watched for a moment and was about to leave when he said, "I need something."

"What?"

"Here. Everything on that list," he said, handing her a piece of paper.

She eyed the list in astonishment. "What on earth are you up to, Erik?"

"Just an idea," he said. She leaned over his shoulder to look at the drawing.

"A false hand?"

"It may not work. But if I can perfect it, at least I may be able to play some music again," he said quietly.

Marie nodded and left him in peace. She looked down at the list. Half of the items she had no idea where to find. She found Monsieur Reyer sitting at the practice room piano, playing some Chopin.

"How is our Ghost today?" he asked. Only he, Meg and Marie were aware of Erik's presence in the Opera house. Although Firmin and André had been helpful in their attempt to find him, Madame Giry very much doubted that they would care to have him haunting their business once more.

"The same. He is trying to fashion a false hand for himself. I don't suppose you have the faintest idea of where to procure these items?" She handed him the list and he read through it.

"I think I'll manage. When does he want them by?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll go now. I suppose you had no luck at the Land Ownership building?"

"I'm afraid not. It's been months now. If they were going to find anything, it would have been found by now," Madame Giry said quietly.

"But you checked under Daae? What about the name she was going to use when she married him?"

"She wouldn't use that name. It would be too painful for her. In any case, the clerk said if anything under Daae came up he would contact me."

Monsieur Reyer got to his feet and stretched, having been sat at the piano for some time.

Madame Giry said softly, "I suppose the child is born by now."

"It must be a month old, assuming it was on time," Monsieur Reyer agreed.

"I wonder what it is called, if it is a boy or a girl."

"Did you try the registry office? If a child has been born, it will be registered there," Monsieur Reyer suggested. Marie smiled.

"I shall go there tomorrow. I have a training session with the girls now."

"Indeed," he said with a smile. As he left, Marie considered his idea. The registry office…

Rosa Chirmes smiled as she heard singing. It was a lovely sound and she couldn't resist going to the baby's room to watch. Christine held the tiny baby in her arms, singing a lullaby.

"Angel of music

Guide and guardian

Grant to me your glory…"

"That's lovely," Rosa commented. Christine looked up with a smile at the young girl. She couldn't be older than fifteen but was a good companion and an excellent worker.

"Thank you Rosa. My father taught it to me. Do you think she looks like a singer?" Christine laughed, gazing down at the child. Rosa went over and cocked her head, examining the child.

"Oh yes, definitely."

"I thought so, too. Yes, Little One, you're going to be a wonderful musician, aren't you?" The baby gurgled slightly and Christine laughed again, placing her back in the crib.

Rosa watched her mistress fuss over the blankets. She had been working for here nearly a year now, ever since Christine had arrived in the house. Although Christine was only nineteen, nearly twenty, she was a strong-willed young woman and Rosa loved working for her. Christine looked up. "How is your mother?"

"She is much better. The influenza has passed now, but she's still weak."

"If you want to take her some hot food from the kitchen, feel free. We always have too much here, don't we, Little One?"

It was not often that in this time you found a woman who owned her own property, had a child, and remained unmarried. Monsieur Thomas Peron, who had sold her the house, was a frequent visitor and friend to Christine, and had suggested once that she try and find a husband, but Christine would have none of it.

Thomas hadn't appeared to have taken any notice of this and had once invited her to dinner only to sit her between two very wealthy, unmarried young men. Christine had put up with an hour's worth of conversation, during which Thomas dropped plenty of hints about how very unmarried she was before announcing to both men that she was four months pregnant. This shocked the entire table in silence. Christine had had a few well chosen words with Thomas afterwards and the subject had never been brought up again.

"I have had bad experiences with men," she had told Rosa, "And I am managing perfectly well by myself."

Rosa couldn't deny it. Even in the village, they spoke of Christine le Phantome's efficient nature. She had several people living on land surrounding the house, who paid a regular rent and provided the house with food. Several of the farmers had grumbled about their master being female but had been quickly silenced.

"Where did you learn to be so business-like?" Rosa had asked her once.

Christine had simply smiled and said, "I didn't. Mostly it's common sense, partly my father's fault. He was a dreamer you see, so when my mother died I took an interest in running our house. I doubt very much that the servants appreciated being ordered around by a child, but I insisted."

Christine was a mystery. Rosa knew nothing of her past, except that she came from Paris and loved music. She had no idea who the father of the child was and didn't dare to ask.

At that moment Christine said, "I suppose I should really stop calling her Little One and call her by her proper name. It wouldn't do to confuse her."

"She is only small. It won't hurt to call her by a pet name," Rosa replied, making the bed. Christine smiled.

"I suppose so. And I do adore her name. Dominique…"

"Is it a family name?" Rosa asked.

"No, I just like the name," she laughed in reply.

Rosa smiled and then looked at the clock. "Would you like some tea? It's almost four."

"Yes, I suppose so. Shall we take tea on the lawn? It's a lovely day," Christine said. It was July, and the sun shone warmly. A slight breeze ruffled the trees and the birds sang without a care in the world.

"I'll take it out there in ten minutes," Rosa said.

Christine looked down at Dominique as Rosa left. "Well, Dominique, what do you think of tea outside? Yes, I think it's a good idea as well." She lifted the baby from the crib and made sure she was properly wrapped up before going outside. Dominique gurgled happily as Christine hummed under her breath. She snapped a flower from a bush and waved it in front of Dominique's face. Dominique reached for it happily.

"I can barely believe that you're already four months old. And you're getting so big! We'll need to have some new clothes made soon," Christine said matter-of-factly as Dominique waved the flower around.

"I could make some, if you like," Rosa said, setting down a tray. Christine smiled and put Dominique in the outside crib.

"That would be wonderful. I wish I could sew… I never learned how. It wasn't needed when I was in Paris. The only thing I ever had to mend was my stockings, because I tore them so often," she said, pouring tea into two cups for them.

Rosa accepted her gratefully and asked gingerly, "Where… whereabouts in Paris did you live?"

Christine looked at her quickly and then smiled mischievously. "Can you keep a secret, Rosa?"

"Of course."

"Well… I lived in the Opera Populaire."

"The famous Opera House?"

"Yes. When my father died I went there. I was only about eight years of age and I trained as a ballerina and, later on, a singer."

"I always wondered where you learned to sing so beautifully… but why is it a secret?" Rosa asked, confused. Christine set her teacup down and looked over at Dominique.

"It is a secret because… because I fear that there are people in Paris who may be searching for me. In particular, there is one person who I would prefer not to see."

"The father of Dominique?" Rosa guessed. Christine nodded, stroking the baby's tufty hair.

"Yes. I do not want him to find us. That is why no one can know where I am from."

"I won't tell a single soul," Rosa promised.

Christine was about to speak when someone called out for them.

"On the lawn, Thomas!" Christine called and he came around the side of the house.

"Just in time for tea, I see," he said with a smile as Rosa fetched a third chair for him. He sat heavily and stopped to admire Dominique.

"She grows more every time I see her. She has your hair, Christine."

"Indeed. But her eyes are definitely from her father. It's odd, I thought that all babies are born with blue eyes but hers have always been that shade of green," Christine commented, pouring him tea.

He laughed and said, "I'm glad you're both well. And how is the estate?"

"Flourishing. We've had a good fruit harvest," Christine replied. She and Thomas began to discuss the estate and only stopped when Dominique began to whimper.

"I'll change her," Rosa said, lifting the child from her cot.

"Thank you, Rosa."

Thomas waited until the maid had gone before saying, "I wanted to talk to you, Christine. About something rather important."

"If this is another marriage talk, I don't want to hear it, Thomas," she warned. He shook his head.

"It isn't."

"Very well," Christine said, offering a slice of cake which he gladly accepted.

He looked at her and said, "I'm traveling to Paris next month, to see an old friend. And I know that you originated from Paris, so I wondered if you would care to accompany me. We would be there for a week, you would be able to visit your old friends…"

He stopped as Christine shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Thomas. For one, I can't leave Dominique. She's still so young. And Paris… there are too many ghosts. I can't. I'm sorry."

"Very well. Just as long as you know that the offer still stands," he said, a little regretfully. Christine smiled apologetically.

"Thank you, but I must say no. Maybe one day… but it is too soon."

"Your choice. This cake is delicious."

"Rosa's recipe. Why don't you take it home, I'm sure Emily will enjoy it?"

"Thank you, Christine, that's very generous."

Rosa returned with a now considerably happier Dominique. Christine stood and reached for her baby. "Hello my darling… happy now? Would you like to see Uncle Thomas?"

"Uncle Thomas?" he said, looking delighted. Christine smiled.

"Well, you are her godfather. Here," she held her out to him. Thomas took the baby and smiled down at her. Dominique reached for his moustache and tugged the end.

"Dominique!"

"Oh, she's fine. My own children did the same thing," Thomas said. His own children were two boys, aged eight and twelve, called Andrew and Christopher.

Christine smiled and looked at Rosa, "Could you wrap up the rest of the cake for Monsieur Peron?"

"There's a fresh one in the cupboard, if he'd prefer."

"Much better. Wrap that one instead."

He passed Dominique back to her and smiled as the baby squealed. "She's a beautiful child."

"Isn't she? I don't know what I'd do without her. I can't imagine being without her ever again," Christine commented, holding the baby close to her. She sang a little song to the happy child before placing her back in the crib.

Thomas watched with a smile. He was truly fond of this young woman, with her iron will and loving nature. He, his wife Emily, and Rosa, had all been waiting when she went into labor. Nine hours, she had struggled, whilst they paced the corridor outside the bedroom. The doctor had refused to let anyone in, saying that they would only be in the way.

And then the tense expectant air had been shattered by a scream of pain. The three of them had turned towards the door fearfully. Silence, and then the unmistakable sound of a baby's cries. After an agonizing ten minutes the doctor let them in.

"Only for a moment. She's had a hard time and needs to rest," he warned them. They had gone in and looked towards the bed. Christine had been pale and sweating but she smiled as she looked down at the small being in her arms.

Thomas was brought out of his train of thought by the return of Rosa and the cake. "Thank you, Rosa. Emily will certainly enjoy this."

"If she'd like the recipe I'll give it to you next time you visit," Rosa said. She had prepared a bottle of milk for Dominique and Christine reached for it.

As she held the bottle to Dominique's mouth she said, "How are Andrew and Christopher?"

"Troublesome, but they're good boys. They do make their mother worry though," Thomas sighed.

Christine laughed. "Well, that's what boys do. I must say, I was a little relieved that Dominique was a girl. I know how to handle girls. You have a little brother, don't you Rosa?"

"Yes, Jonathon. I love him dearly, but he is a little horror," Rosa agreed.

They all laughed and Christine said, "Yes, Little One, I'm very glad that you're a girl. No doubt your father would have wanted a boy, but I'm very happy with you."

Dominique sucked the milk contently, not aware that they were discussing her. Thomas said, "I must be going, Christine. Are you sure you won't consider coming to Paris?"

"No, Thomas. But do enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I will. I haven't seen my friend in many years. Thank you for the cake, Rosa. I'll see you both soon."

He strode off, the cake tucked under his arm. Rosa glanced at Christine. "Paris?"

"Hmm. Will you put her down for a sleep?" she said, passing Dominique to Rosa. She nodded and took the baby inside. Christine sat for a few moments in contemplative silence before rising and walking to the sunlit room on the other side of the house. A piano sat there, its lid open. The keys glinted enticingly, begging her to sit and play them. She did, running her hands over the ivory and ebony keys. A song rose in her throat and she sang quietly.

Say you'll love me every waking moment

Turn my head with talk of summertime

Say you'll need me with you now and always

Promise me that all you say is true

That's all I ask of you

She paused and bit her lip. She closed her eyes, seeing as she did so the stage of the Opera Populaire. The wonderful feeling she received, that thrill of excitement that night when she had realized that it was Erik singing and not Piangi.

"Erik… why?" Christine whispered, feeling a sharp jab of pain in her heart.

Erik looked down at the false hand he had fashioned and slipped it over the stump of his wrist. It had taken several months but it seemed perfect. He was trying a technique he had read about many years ago in Persia, attaching different wires to separate points on the length of his arm. Each point would, in theory, cause a different movement when he tried to move the hand. It was all about tricking his brain into believing that the hand was there and would work properly, as well as some more, rather complicated theories.

He set about attaching the lengths of copper and then tried to move the fingers. Nothing happened and he altered a few of the wires before trying again. This time the index finger twitched a little. When Madame Giry went down an hour later he was sat, concentrating on the hand. She gasped in amazement as the fingers flexed in turn. "You did it!"

"Hmm. It will take some time to perfect its use, but it will for now serve its purpose. Did you want something?" he asked, looking up briefly. She ignored his rudeness. She had grown accustomed to it.

"Food, Erik. On the table."

"Thank you, Marie," he said, still examining the false hand. It was made from metal and he had spent many hours laboring to make sure that it contained all of the joints that a normal hand would.

"And Monsieur Reyer has sent down some more music paper for you."

"Thank him for me."

"I shall when he returns. He has gone to see a friend for a few days."

"Very well."

Marie turned, expecting no more conversation from him. It had been nearly three years since Christine's departure and despite her efforts she had not found her. Erik refused to search for her. He simply said, "She knows where I am. If she wants to find me, she will. If not, I shall no longer haunt her." Marie had then called him an idiot of the highest degree but Erik had merely waved the insult away.

Meg was in the practice room, waiting to dance, when Marie arrived. "He has finished his hand."

"Really? Does it work?"

"It does. Your stretches, please, Meg."

As Meg stretched her legs she said, "How old would the child be now?"

"Let's see… two years, maybe a few months more."

"And he still doesn't know…"

"And you will not tell him!" Marie snapped. Meg looked hurt.

"I know, Maman."

"Time to practice. Starting position please."

Monsieur Reyer was greeted off the carriage by his friend. Thomas Peron shook hands with him jovially.

"Simon Reyer, how are you?"

"I am well, thank you Thomas. And Emily, you look more beautiful every time I see you," the conductor said, kissing her cheek.

She laughed and said, "What a gentleman. Come, dinner is almost ready." They began the short walk up the path to the beautiful house.

It was the last day of his visit that Christine was discovered. Thomas had said to Monsieur Reyer, "You must come and meet my good friend. She's an excellent musician, I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

"Well, why not?" he had said happily. Thomas always put him in a good mood. How could you be in the company of someone so happy and not be cheerful?

They took a carriage to the house and Thomas called out. "Is anybody home?"

Rosa appeared at the side of the house and smiled. "Around the back, Monsieur. You're in time for tea, as usual."

"I must say, we have excellent timing," Thomas laughed.

As Monsieur Reyer rounded the side of the house next to Thomas he did not expect to see what he saw. A small child, running happily on the green lawn, being chased by a beautiful young woman in a light dress, her long dark hair falling free down her back. The child screamed as the woman caught her and lifted her into the air, swinging her around, laughing with joy.

Monsieur Reyer felt his blood run cold as he recognized her beautiful, happy face. Christine held the child to her as she turned and saw the two men.

"Thomas! How wonderful! And…" the smile faded from her face and she went slightly pale.

Thomas said, "Christine, this is my good friend Simon Reyer. Simon, Christine le Phantome."

"My god…" Christine moaned in a low voice. Monsieur Reyer stepped forward.

"Miss Daae? Is that really you?"

"Monsieur Reyer. What are you doing here?"

"Simon's been a life-long friend. How on earth do you two know each other?"

"Monsieur Reyer was a teacher of mine, when I lived in Paris," Christine said quietly. Monsieur Reyer's eyes fell on Dominique who was playing with her mother's long hair.

"And this is…?"

"Yes. This is Dominique. My daughter," Christine said quietly. Thomas and Rosa exchanged puzzled glances.

Christine turned to them. "Here, take Dominique. Could we just have a moment?"

"Of course," Rosa said, lifting Dominique. Christine led Monsieur Reyer a short way off and then turned to him, smiling.

"I'm so glad to see you. I was just…"

"Shocked? The same here. So this is where you've been hiding all this time," Monsieur Reyer said.

Christine smiled. "Yes."

"And under the name Le Phantome?"

"I didn't want to be found."

"Perfectly understandable."

"Is he… is he still there?" Christine asked hesitantly. Monsieur Reyer nodded.

"Yes. Erik is still at the Opera Populaire. He has taken up his old residence."

"My god… how is he?"

"Physically, he is well. But… he is not the man you made him. He has become the sullen creature called the Phantom once more. He doesn't get up to his old tricks, as he used to. But he is worse without you."

"Will you tell him that I am here?" she asked directly. Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"That is your choice. Do you want me to tell him?"

Christine looked past him, at the little girl who was trying to snatch a piece of cake from Thomas' plate without him noticing and laughing delightedly each time she was caught. "Does he know about her?"

"No."

"Then… I don't know. Do what you think is best. If you think it will be good for him to know, then tell him."

Monsieur Reyer smiled and said, "You are so grown up. Hardly the girl you were when you left the Opera House all that time ago."

"I have had to grow up. I am a mother, a landowner, an employer…"

"You have done well for yourself."

"I have," she agreed.

"Do you still play your music?" he asked. Christine smiled and nodded.

"Everyday. Even Dominique has started to try and play the piano and she loves to listen to me play."

After a few minutes more they returned to the others. Christine reached for Dominique. "Little One, come and meet my friend. This is Monsieur Reyer." Dominique gazed up at him and extended a small sticky hand, offering a handful of cake.

Monsieur Reyer laughed and accepted the crumbled treat. "Thank you."

She smiled and pointed to herself. "Dominique," she said proudly before running over to Christine who lifted her into her lap.

"Do you want some milk?"

"Milk please," she mumbled through some cake. Christine poured some into a little cup and she drank contentedly as Rosa poured tea.

"So you two know each other from Paris? The Opera Populaire?" Thomas asked. Christine nodded.

"I lived there for many years, as a singer and dancer."

"Really? I had no idea!" Thomas exclaimed. Christine smiled slightly.

"It's not something I spread around. There are far too many gossips in the village as it is. Tell me, how are Madame Giry and Meg?"

"They are both well. They still work at the Opera House and Meg is one of the lead dancers."

"She was always much better than I was," Christine admitted. "Although, I can't say I put as much effort into dancing as I did singing."

"You were never a dancer. Your future lies with music."

"I suppose Carlotta is still the lead soprano?" Christine asked, with a mischievous smile. Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"Unfortunately so. I doubt we will ever be rid of her."

They spoke of the Opera House for most of the afternoon. When the two men rose, Christine stood as well, holding Dominique, who reached for Thomas' moustache. "Give my love to everyone in the Opera House."

"Including Carlotta?"

Christine laughed. "Maybe not everyone."

"And what about…?" he asked.

Christine caught his meaning and said quietly, so Thomas could not hear, "Tell him I am here. Don't force him to come. But if he chooses to come, I will not turn him away until we have talked."

"Very well. It was wonderful to see you, Madame le Phantome."

"And you, Monsieur Reyer. And you."

When the two men had left, Rosa looked at Christine. "Are you alright?"

"Yes… yes, I am. It was nice to see him again," she said vaguely.

In truth, she did not expect Erik to come. He had made his position quite clear a long time ago and she was not going to force him to be a father. That would be his choice, and his alone.

"I need to see him," Monsieur Reyer said, when he arrived back at the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry looked at him as if he were insane.

"You know he forbids anyone to enter his home."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent, Marie. You know that."

"What has happened?" Marie asked quietly, guiding him to an empty corridor. Monsieur Reyer took a deep breath.

"I've found her, Marie. I've found Christine."

"My god! You've found her? Where?"

"Near the border of Switzerland. She owns a house and land there under the name of Le Phantome."

"I can't believe it. And the child? I assume there is one?" Marie asked. He smiled.

"There is. She is called Dominique and she's lovely."

"She is not… like him?"

"No. She's perfect."

Madame Giry closed her eyes and then looked at him. "I shall fetch him. But does Christine want to see him?"

"She said that if he wishes to come, he may. But she will not insist upon it, nor are we to force him to go."

"We'll see about that," Marie said darkly, disappearing through a doorway. She returned a few minutes later and beckoned him into a secret corridor. A dark figure stood in the shadows, his arms folded.

"What excuse do you have for disturbing me, Monsieur Reyer?" Erik said in a dangerously calm voice. Monsieur Reyer forced himself not to be intimidated.

"I have news of Christine Daae."

"Really."

"Yes. I know where she is living and she has made it clear that you are welcome to go to her."

"How very generous of her," Erik said, turning away.

"You will not go?"

"No. She is the one who broke our engagement, not I. I have no reason to see her."

"Actually, there may be one reason," Monsieur Reyer said. Erik continued to walk away.

"There is no reason why I would go to her now," he said quietly.

"Not even your child?"

Erik froze and turned slowly. "What did you say?"

"Is that reason enough? The fact that your daughter is there with her?"

"I have no daughter!"

"You do, Erik," Marie said quietly. He turned to her, his eyes wide with fury and amazement.

"You… you knew about this?"

"I knew Christine was with child. I did not know if she had the child or not until just now," she admitted.

Erik slumped against the wall. Monsieur Reyer continued.

"Her name is Dominique le Phantome. She is… well, she's beautiful. Her mother's hair and face, but your eyes. A wonderful child."

"My god… and no one told me… all this time and she…" Erik said, covering his face with his hands.

Monsieur Reyer said calmly, "I suggest that you take your horse and start riding. You will arrive tomorrow morning if you start riding now and don't stop."

"Will you go, Erik?" Madame Giry asked. He straightened and looked at them.

"Yes. Yes, I will go."