Another short one. Please forgive me. I decided to split the two scenes I originally had up into two chapters, though, because the next one will be a little long.

Also, I apologize if my writing slows here. The Erik inside my head is demanding that I handle his emotions very carefully and reflect them appropriately. I have to be careful not to whisk everyone off to happily-ever after as I would desire :).

One final note. I have already written about 50 pages of the other story (that takes place before this one). I was going to wait until I finished this story to start posting it, but the end of this is NOT that far away. (Within ten chapters, I believe..) Also, since such an enormous amount of the other one is already written, I can post it without confusing myself by writing two separate stories.

So check it out too! It will be titled "Enigmatic Darkness". I'm getting ready to put it up. :)

Thanks for all of the faithful reviews. All of you lurkers, please let me know what you think!

What did a man say to a son he had never known? What words would a father have for a child, now a man, who had been sorely mistreated and abandoned his whole life? What did a murderer and recluse have to offer?

Erik pondered these things on his way back to his lair. When he returned, he surmised that he must have been gone much longer than he had realized. The lights were dim, most of the candles having burned out. Christine was still laying where he had left her, though her brow was creased with discomfort in her sleep. Years ago he would have longed to wipe that expression from her face, to bring her pleasure and make her smile. Tonight, however, he had to curl his fingers into his palms and stride past her quickly. Anger was the only emotion he felt for the wretched woman now.

A quick glance into the bedchamber Nicholas had been placed in assured him that Elizabeth, too, had succumbed to sleep. She was slumped awkwardly over the side of the bed, her head resting near Nicholas thigh while she slept. Nicholas, however, was not asleep. His fever had obviously broken, and his eyes were clear and focused as they rest upon Elizabeth.

Stealth had never been a problem for Erik, even in his more clumsy moments. He lingered in shadow, watching the boy in his own observations. Adoration was etched across Nicholas's features. He lifted a hand, and stroked an errant curl from Elizabeth's cheek. Suddenly feeling as though he were prying into an immensely personal moment, he stepped from the shadows rather unceremoniously. Nicholas looked up quickly. His features hardened, and a fear and hatred glinted in his eyes.

"What do you want?" His voice was barely audible, as an act of respect toward the sleeping girl. The soft tone did little to disguise his distaste for the phantom before him, however.

Erik did not know. What did he want? Too many years had passed. Too many wounds had been inflicted. He could not ask this young man to look upon him as a father, could he? Even if he did, Erik did not know what a good father was. He had never experienced that. Silently, Erik circled the bed. As he neared Elizabeth, Nicholas stiffened and sat up quickly. Obviously, the boy's strength was returning.

"Leave her be, you beast.."

Erik lifted a single finger to his lips to silence him. He stepped beyond Elizabeth, and pulled a stool up to the side of the bed. He was uncomfortably close to Nicholas now. Still he did not speak, instead he allowed himself to gaze freely at the young man's face.

How he had missed it Erik could not imagine, but the person before him bore a startling resemblance to himself. While his skin was a bit more bronzed than his own, the structure of his features was nearly identical. He did, however, have her eyes. As he lifted his elbows to rest upon his knees, leaning a bit closer, Erik felt himself trembling.

Nicholas was taken aback by the man's strange behavior. He recoiled a bit as Erik leaned near. Erik's face had a most unusual expression on it. Was it wonder? Curiosity?

"What do you want?" Nicholas managed, mumbling again. Now it seemed his father was staring at the ravaged and imperfect part of his face.

"Did you have a very troublesome life?" Erik had finally spoken, his voice heavy with concern. Nicholas scowled. Why did this monster suddenly care so much about his troubles?

"I am sure other's have had it worse," he muttered in defense, suddenly feeling very exposed. He canted his head aside to hide his deformity from Erik.

"I am sorry." The words were slow to come, and awkward. Nicholas guessed that Erik had probably apologized precious little in his life.

"It is of no concern to you.." he retorted, a bit too harshly. The hurt that flashed in Erik's gaze was easily read, and Nicholas felt a twinge of guilt for barbing him so.

Silence fell between them for several long moments. It was Nicholas who finally squelched it.

"You know?"

"Yes."

Again silence. A torrent of unasked questions began to surface in Nicholas's mind. For a moment, he had forgotten the terrible situation they were all in and the apparent danger. He could find the answers! But which question to ask?

"Was she beautiful?"

Erik did not have to ask who. "Yes, very." His voice was smooth, but tension was obvious in it's notes.

"Did you love her?"

Erik cringed inwardly. Had he loved her? Yes, with all of his heart and being. He had not realized it, however, until she was gone. She had never known..

"Yes, I did."

"Did you know?" The questions came freely now, bottled up within him for a lifetime. Nicholas felt an overpowering sense of relief at their expression.

"No!" Erik seemed shocked by the question, shaking his head empathetically. It was then that he realized he was only a madman in the eyes of his only child. Why should Nicholas expect any more out of him?

"No," he repeated again, more softly. "I would have.." Erik did not know how to finish. What would he have done? Swept a tiny infant into the bitter cold of his dusty cellars, never to see sunlight or laughter? No, not that. He would have done something!

Nicholas sensed the confusion in Erik, and simply nodded.

"Tell me about my mother."

Erik allowed himself to smile. It had been so terribly long since he had done that, sincerely, that the expression felt strange to him.

"Your mother was a beautiful gypsy. Her name was Emina..."