Erik's POV

Everything had to be perfect. I spent that evening and the following morning preparing everything for Christine's arrival. She had only seen my kitchen, and even I didn't know if it was worthy of her or not….Being blind and placing things in their correct place was a little harder than I first thought. I hardly ever spent time in my the other rooms in my house, but today, Christine was probably going to want a tour. From inside my family room, I tore the sheets off the furniture and pulled back the curtains to let in some light. The least I could do was make my home feel like a home.

I was nearly exhausted by the time I heard someone knocking at the door. I had just finished, and went scurrying to the door with one hand covering my deformity. The last thing I wanted was for my son to scream upon seeing me. After opening the door, I saw Christine's figure standing there holding something small in her arms. Was this my son?

"Hi, Erik." she kindly said. "How are you feeling today?"

My body was still hurting, but I felt much better.

"A little tired." I said. "But much better, thank you."

I moved aside to let Christine in, hearing her placing a few items down on the table. If I would have known she was bringing lots of things with her, I would have ordered her a carriage to bring her over.

"It's snowing again." I heard her say as she continued rummaging around.

"I…I hadn't noticed." I closed the door and turned around, my hands shaking with nervousness.

"Why are you covering your face like that? Did those thugs hurt you there?"

"What? No, um…I don't have my mask. They took it from me."

I heard Christine giggle, before she placed something into my hands.

"Meg told me about that. Luckily I had an extra one in my luggage from when I left you in Calais."

The memory stung my heart, but I was glad she had an extra mask. I placed it on, feeling relieved that I had my privacy again.

"So, would you like to meet your son?"

My heart was pounding against my chest as I slowly nodded. A son…I had a son.

"He's been a little cranky this morning." she warned. "Why don't we go into your family room and sit down. It would be much easier."

"Yes, right this way."

The longer I could hold off seeing my son, the better. I didn't know what to do with a baby, and I knew I was bound to screw up. I led us to the family room I had been cleaning all morning, and motioned her to the couch.

"Oh, Erik, it's such a beautiful room."

"Thank you. I haven't really gotten a good look at it…" Was that a joke? Had Christine's presence actually caused me to make my blindness a joke?

She giggled and took a seat as I did the same. I was sitting so close to her now. So close that I could feel her skirts making contact with my trousers. Christine always dressed to perfection. Even if it were raining, she would always dress as if going out for a Sunday stroll. How my eyes ached just to see how she looked at this very moment…probably beautiful like always.

"Well, it's a very lovely room. The walls are painted red with black trim around the windows."

"Thank you for describing it to me."

"Well, hold out your arms."

"What?"

"You want to hold Gustave, don't you?"

I did as she asked and for the first time in my life, I heard my son begin to whimper as she removed him from the carrier she had carried him in. Oh, how is voice sounded like an angel crying. His soft little voice was like music to my ears. My mother always said my cries sounded like music…perhaps this is exactly how I sounded. Maybe even better. This was, after all, the spawn of two extremely musical beings. With Christine's angelic voice, and my mastered musical abilities, this child could be both Mozart and Beethoven combined.

"Shhh…Gustave, it's all right." she cooed. "You're going to meet your daddy."

My son was placed into my arms, Christine adjusting them to cradle our bundle of joy. He wasn't that heavy. Five, perhaps six pounds if that.

"Oh, Christine." my heart stopped in my chest. This was my baby…he was perfect. "He's no bigger than a loaf of bread."

"Support his head." she kindly warned.

"What does he look like?"

"Why don't you imagine it for yourself." Christine took my hand, and began running it over our child's face. I took every detail into mind, the way his skin felt, his little button nose, his soft lips and even his round shape. When I felt his head, his hair was thin and sparse like my own.

"He's blonde, Erik." Christine told me. "Just like you."

"He's perfect."

"Would you like to feed him?"

The only thing I could do was nod as Christine placed a bottle into my hand.

"Here," she guided my hand to his mouth to help me situate the bottle and before I knew it, he was drinking.

"You're doing perfect."

"You really think so?" I curiously questioned.

"Yes, Erik, really."

When my son was finished drinking, Christine took his small body out of my arms to burp him.

"Do you have anywhere I could put him down for a while?" she asked.

"I'm sorry that I don't have a cradle, Christine." I placed my head down in embarrassment. "I don't have anything for a baby."

"It's all right, Erik." she assured. "It's not your fault. I'll place him into the carrier I brought him in. He's not fussy about where he sleeps."

"My room is much warmer if you want to put him in there." I suggested. "Keep the door open so you can hear him if he starts crying."

"Where is your room?"

I stood up from where I was sitting, and used my staff to guide me through the halls until I reached my bedroom. I motioned Christine inside, and watched her place him down on top of my bed.

"Erik, you're sleeping on hard springs."

"It's not that bad."

"It's bad enough. Oh, Erik… You deserve a better bed."

"I don't deserve much. I don't even deserve Gustave."

"Come on, Erik, let's get to making dinner."

While Gustave slept, I followed Christine out to the kitchen and sat down as she prepared dinner. I didn't have much food laying around, but I was sure Christine brought some of her own.

"The snow is getting terrible out there." Christine stated as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"You could leave if you wanted to." I said. "I wouldn't want you to have to walk home in such blizzard like conditions. It's not good for you or the child."

"That's very kind of you to think like that, Erik, but I promised you dinner."

"What are you making anyway?"

"It's a surprise. Now, how about some wine in the other room?"

I didn't argue with Christine and stood up on my weak legs, limping towards the couch that was in my family room.

"Oh, am I making you move around too much?"

"A little." I said, plopping down on the cushions.

"Well, we won't move from this spot."

When Christine seated herself beside me, she handed me a glass. I sipped on my wine, while wondering what to say. It was my fault. I should have allowed Christine to see me in the first place instead of telling Meg to hide me. And what made matters worse was that Meg told her that I was dead. My poor angel had suffered through giving birth all on her own, without the father standing beside her, squeezing her hand and saying that everything would be all right. In my heart I was angry with Christine for leaving me, but at the same time I was angry with myself for allowing my body to act out on my manly urges.

"I'm so sorry, Christine."

"What ever for?"

"I…I told Meg to tell you that I didn't wish to see you, but instead she told you that I had died. If I would have been the man that I was and just met you face to face months ago, you wouldn't have had to go through Gustave's birth alone."

"Erik," Christine placed her hand over my own. "Don't be sorry. You had a right to feel the way you did about me. I'll admit when I finally arrived, I was excited to see you, to tell you that I was pregnant. But, when Meg told me you had died, it shattered my world. When I was out and about, I always looked for you, just encase she was lying. But I always came out empty handed."

"I'm here now, Christine." I placed my hand over hers, lightly squeezing it. "And I will be here for our son."

"I need to check on dinner, Erik, I'll be right back."

When Christine left, I continued to sit there sipping on my wine. How badly I wanted to hate Christine, but I couldn't. If she would take me back this instant, I would crawl right back into bed with her. Just thinking about feeling that wonderful bliss of our bodies combined once more was enough to send me over the edge. I had never felt such heaven until that night, and I couldn't help but want to experience it again.

"It's almost finished, Erik." Christine came back and sat down beside me. "We should be eating in a matter of minutes."

"Good, I'm famished."

"Where are your dishes?"

Once more I stood to my feet, feeling Christine's hand wanting to push me down.

"No, Erik, just tell me."

"I know how to set the table, Christine." I argued. "I've been able to do a lot since you've been gone."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Erik."

"You didn't."

I found my way back into the kitchen, reaching up on the top shelf where I kept my silverware. As I began to set the table, I couldn't help but feel her eyes watching me, as if she were amazed. This was nothing new to me. I knew my way around the house. I had to know or else I would be bumping into walls and dropping silverware on a daily basis.

"You astonish me, Erik."

"How so?" I pulled out a chair for her to sit in, feeling her accepting my offer.

"Before I left, you wanted to die. Now look at you. You're living on your own, completing daily chores as if they were the easiest tasks in the world."

"They weren't at first. It still takes me nearly thirty minutes to dress myself."

"You do a wonderful job at it though."

I didn't say another word, only took a seat as Christine tended to our meal.

"I love your home, Erik, but…"

"But what?"

"I just thought it would have been more musical."

"Musical?"

"Yes, in your lair you had musical instruments laying around. There isn't one here."

"I have a music room." I said. "With a piano."

I took a bite of my dinner, only to notice that it tasted like the stew she had made me months ago.

"This is wonderful, Christine."

"So you play?"

"What?"

"The piano. Do you play it again?"

I shook my head.

"I haven't touched it."

"And why not?" her voice was so concerned, as if she were angry over the fact that I hadn't attempted to play.

"Because it would kill me to know that I couldn't play it, Christine."

"But you won't know unless you try."

"I'd rather not."

Christine finally silenced, calming down my anger.

"The snow is getting really bad out there."

"You shouldn't leave." I blurted out. "What if you fall?"

"And what do you suppose I do?" she giggled. "Spend the night with you?"

"Where else?" I growled.

"Oh, you're serious."

"Quite."

"Erik, you don't have to do that."

"No, you're right, I don't. My home may be small, but it's warm and shelter from the storm."

"That's very kind of you."

"It's the least I could do, Christine. You can have my bed. I'll take the couch."

"No, the couch will be quite all right, Erik."

"If you insist."

When our meal was finished, Christine insisted on washing the dishes. I offered to help, but she told me to get changed for the evening. I was indeed beginning to get uncomfortable in my day attire and the thought of changing into my night clothes sounded wonderful. I agreed, and walked to my room, being quiet so I wouldn't disturb Gustave. As far as I knew, he was still fast asleep in his carrier. As I carefully changed into my nightclothes, I couldn't help but feel Ayesha circling my legs.

"Ayesha, enough." I whispered. "You're going to wake Gustave."

As my fingers ran over each button, I made sure to fasten each one, making sure that I looked presentable.

When I was finally dressed, I grabbed a pile of folded blankets out of the closet and carried them towards the family room.

"Christine?" I called her name, not knowing where she was. "I have some blankets for you."

"Do you have a nightshirt I could borrow?"

The sudden sound of her voice frightened me, causing me to jump.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

She took the blankets out of my grasp, her fingers brushing my own.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" I asked. "You're more than welcomed to have my bed."

"I'll be as comfy as ever. What about Gustave?"

"Oh, he can stay in my room. It's better for him."

"What if-"

"He get's up in the night?" I chuckled. "I'll get up with him."

"Erik, you don't have to."

"No, I don't, but you've been up with him since his birth. I'll give you a break."

Christine's arms instantly wrapped around me and I hugged her back.

"You're a wonderful man, Erik."

Wonderful? She never called me that before. Was I really all that wonderful? I had a past dark enough to blacken the brightest day, and yet, my angel was calling me wonderful.

"Get your rest, Christine."

When we broke from our hug, I walked to my room and closed the door. My son was still fast asleep in his carrier that I placed beside me on my bed. To ensure that he wouldn't catch a chill, I placed an extra blanket over his tiny body. This was my son…my own flesh and blood. When I had touched his face earlier in the evening, I felt flawless flesh. He was perfect in every way, but I still couldn't help but feel the need to actually see him. If only my blindness could clear for just a second. In my mind, I could picture Christine, even Meg or Madame Giry, but Gustave? Even feeling his face wasn't enough to give me an image.

From down on the floor, I heard Ayesha growling. She was obviously upset that Gustave was in her usual spot. When she wouldn't silence, I threw my pillow at her.

"Enough, Ayesha, be nice!" I snapped.

Finally, she silenced, but jumped up and sat on my head.

"Oh, this is real mature, Ayesha." I shooed her away, only to hear Gustave whimpering a few moments later.

I gasped, and sat up to feel that Ayesha had crawled into Gustave's carrier and laid over his body.

"Get out of there!"

This had angered me greatly, for I snatched her by the nape of her neck and carried her to my bedroom door as she squirmed and hissed about. I was so angry over what she had done, that I threw her out the door and closed it. If Ayesha couldn't spend the night in my room without being hostel towards Gustave, then she wasn't going to be spending it in my room at all. Gustave was sobbing now, it was obvious that something as strange as Ayesha had frightened him.

"It's all right, Gustave." I cooed, stumbling back to the bed to pick him up.

Holding an infant was something still foreign to me, but I knew I would have to get used to it. I rocked him in my arms, being sure to support his head. After a few moments he seemed to have calmed down. I swayed him a while more, hearing him giggling as I did so.

"You like that?"

I held him up in the air and then lowered him, his giggling continuing.

When I attempted to place him back into his carrier, he began whimpering again so instead, I placed him beside me within the blankets.

"All right, but only for a little while." I yawned.

And then, my son snuggled his head into my chest. The moment I felt him do so, was the moment I knew this child was me. When I was his age, I was already sitting up on my own and crawling around the house. If he was anything like me, he would be amazing Christine in no time.

"You won't have to live like I did, Gustave." I promised. "You'll be loved."

And as if he were trying to say that he was listening, he wrapped his hand around my finger. For the second time in my life, I was happy. The first time had been on the night Christine and I made love, and now, my son was making me feel the wonderful sensation yet again. Perhaps my life wasn't meaningless after all. Yes, I was blind, but now I had a son to take care of. There was so much I wanted to teach him already, but I knew within time, he would come to love everything I did…Perhaps Christine could love me as well.

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