A few days after little Colette's birth announcement, Erik departed from the safety of his underground home and ventured onto the streets of Paris. He walked only a few blocks before he reached the orphanage. The door was thick and heavy, and after he knocked it was opened by a little girl no older than six.
"What's wrong with your face? She asked disgustedly, pointing obscenely at Erik's mask. Just then an older woman appeared at the doorway.
"Now, now, Brigitte, do not be rude! Run along," the woman scolded, and the little girl scurried off into the depths of the house. Wiping her brow, the woman said, " I beg your pardon, monsieur. Children, you know…" she trailed off.
"It is quite alright, Madame. But I do believe we have other business to attend to. He gently inclined his head to her, but the expression on the caretaker's face was one of suspicion.
"And what would that be Monsieur-"
"Brunee," Erik invented on the spot, " Maurice Brunee. I wish to adopt one of your children. My wife and son have recently passed in a riding accident, and I do miss the laughter in my house…" Erik trailed off, faking a look of deepest melancholy. Apparently it worked, for the expression on the woman's face changed instantly from curiosity to pity.
"Come along dear," she said softly "I think I have just the child for you." She led him into the depths of the building, down a dark, narrow hallway towards the dormitories. Laughter rang throughout the entire place, but it was not normal laughter. It was spiced with pain, pity, sadness, and terrible loss of all the children who now had nothing. The giggles were eerie, and they made the hairs on the back of Erik's neck stand up. He passed one hand over his nape before following the caretaker into a room. It had close to 15 beds, but only one little boy sat on the end of one. He couldn't have been more than two, but he had more brown curls than any other child of his age. When Erik walked in the room however, his downcast hazel eyes met those of the Ghost's. For a moment they just stared at each other, until the caretaker finally broke the silence. "Monsieur Brunee, this is Jacques," She told Erik, smiling.
"Jacques," he repeated, almost in a whisper "how do you do?" The little boy made no sound, but got up from his seat and walked slowly towards the two adults. Then he broke into a run and buried his face in the leg of Erik's trousers. The Ghost grunted when the child hit him, but he looked happy as he picked him up and slung the boy over one hip.
"The poor boy has been at this orphanage his whole life," said the caretaker sadly. "His mother gave birth to him here and died within the hour. No father ever showed up." Erik nodded silently and stroked the boy's hair.
"I think we shall be perfect for each other then," the Ghost said, and strode out of the room. "Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth, and the truth isn't what it aught to be. In the dark it is easy to pretend…" Erik sang softly in the little boy's ear. This seemed to calm him, and he fell asleep the whole ride home.