A/N - Sorry for the delay. I had to write this chapter five times before I was satisfied with it. Thanks for the great reviews :) And AngelicFlutist - I promise to give Erik all the pomp and fanfare he deserves!

Also, one more side note. A bit of the history might seem different to you guys. I've actually got a nearly completed fanfic that covers from 2 years after the fire until the beginning of this one, and that's where I get Nicholas' history. Ie; Erik meets a gypsy girl and so on. I don't want to give too much away because after I finish this one, I'll finish that one and post it as a prequel. Just wanted to say.. trust me :)

Merry Christmas!

"Yes, of course. What child hasn't?" Nicholas felt a familiar throb beginning to pulse within his mind. How he hated to think of these things!

"He is your father." Elizabeth spoke softly, as though gentleness in her tone could cushion him for whatever sordid emotion this news might bring him. It only served, however, to make it seem all the more unbelievable.

Nicholas laughed aloud, a strained sort of scoffing sound. "Ridiculous! How could a ghost have a child?" Inwardly, however, the truth felt strangely familiar. Could that explain his despicable face?

Elizabeth was a bit taken aback. "He was no ghost at all, Nicholas - but a man! A man with a.. deformity. My mother knew him! She knew your mother, and that all of this is true.."

Tears again burned in Nicholas' gaze, but he turned away from her. All of his life he had sought the solution to this puzzle, and now that it was offered to him with an angel as it's herald, he wished he had never known. He was a monster, then - and if not on his own, then through his monstrous father. What a curse! Anger welled within him, and he turned to lash out against a tall tree. His knuckles bloodied as they assaulted the bark several times. Finally, he slumped down against the tree - weeping silently.

Elizabeth stepped toward him, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the presence of his rage. It seemed a terribly raw and personal moment that she wished she were not there at all. Realizing, however, that Nicholas had no other soul in the entire world to comfort him - she plucked the courage from within her and attempted to do just that. A small hand fell against his back, and the petite girl crouched beside him.

"Get away from me," Nicholas sputtered weakly. "I am a beast, and if I was not sure before - then I certainly am now."

The Opera Ghost itself was a legend now, used to frighten all Parisian children into obedience. Tales of him would be told late at night in the darkness, of his glowing eyes and rotten flesh. Ridiculous stigma had been attached, even the idea of cannibalism. To Nicholas, no horror could have been greater.

Elizabeth ignored his plea, and reached to wipe away the tears that fell against his cheek. So quickly that she had scarcely seen him move, Nicholas snatched her hand and stood - propelling her away. Unintentionally, this sent her sprawling into the grass.

"I said, get away!"

Nicholas, in a fury of pain and anger, disappeared into the woods. Elizabeth stared after him, her delicate emotions unbalanced as well. Oh, she should not have told him!

"Nicholas, please!" She called, her sweet voice penetrating the unearthly silence like the ringing of a bell. She waited to no avail. He did not respond. She found her footing again, and trudged after him. She had, after all, delivered this blow - she must see it through.

She found him sitting upon a log that was decaying, his head in his hands. All the strength and allure she had seen in him was gone. Left was a weak and hurting man, weeping into his hands. Elizabeth felt moved with compassion and pity, though she was convinced not to portray the latter. He had warned her of that before. She settled by his side yet again, reaching to encircle his broad shoulders with her slender arm.

"If it's any consolation," she murmured softly against the line of his jaw, "my mother loved your father, I think. She said, in not so many words at least, that he was not a monster at all. Sure, his face was a bit.. different. But he was a genius, Nicholas! An architect, magician, poet.. oh, and the music he wrote must have been heavenly."

Elizabeth left out quite a bit of the story that had been relayed to her. She had no intention of relaying Erik's murderous ways, or the threat upon her father.

Nicholas did seem to calm at her words, weakly grasping for her hand. He pressed her fingertips to his cheek, and sighed heavily.

"Can you imagine what it's like, dear Elizabeth? To live an entire lifetime with nothing but hatred and disgust directed toward you. No one has ever touched me as you do now. A kind word has never been spoken. And still yet, to struggle against that and convince yourself that you're of some worth? Can you begin to fathom? And suddenly, even my lineage is cursed. My father is a blessed ghost used to terrify all of Paris."

The tears had dried, and now an empty laugh followed his words. Elizabeth found no humor in them, and sensed the pain in his voice.

"It doesn't matter now, Nicholas. Why dwell on such horrid things when my hands do touch your face, and my voice does utter words of comfort? Would you miss the present and labor over the past? I have longed for you for weeks on end, would you ignore that?"

His eyes were glossy as he canted his head aside, finally meeting her gaze. She had desired to be with him so earnestly? The horrible emotion twisting within him was quelled by her words, and he managed a feeble smile. Brazenly, he kissed the tips of her fingers before releasing her hand.

"I never wish to speak of this again, sweet Elizabeth. I thank you that you felt it important enough to share, and in many ways it was. I have the answers now, and it is time that I move on from those."

"But, Nicholas ... he is .. he may be still alive!"

"I do not care. I do not wish to know, and I dare say he would care little to find out as well."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion. A lifetime without any sort of love, why would he now toss away the chance to know a father?

Nicholas could read her expression, and simply shook his head again.

"Please, Elizabeth. Let me find peace."

Elizabeth was, at least temporarily, placated.

"Yes, Nicholas. I understand."

"Wonderful," he smiled, attempting to regain his composure. "Let us enjoy the evening, then. Who knows how many are left before they marry you off."

Elizabeth scowled at him, but he quickly erased the expression by squatting quickly and splashing some of the cool water onto her already torn dress.

"Nicholas!" She cried in shock, and then ran after him - into the welcoming arms of a very long night.