"Congratulations, Comtesse, you have a son!" the midwife joyously remarked. Christine stared at her newborn child, light blue eyes glimmering in the light. She smiled at him and held him, proud of her son. She and Raoul had made him in love - her perfect little child had been created through her and her husband's love. Peeking down at him, she studied his cute face. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Certainly Erik would have agreed...

The realization hit her. Was the child Raoul's? Or Erik's? She stared back down at the infant, eyes wandering over it, as though something would betray the answer. Her gaze caught the clue she had not noticed before – the black wisps of hair lying on the scalp. Neither she nor Raoul had black hair, nor had their parents...

The horrible shock shook her. Was he Erik's?

Raoul had held her hand through the shock, not knowing what was going through his wife's head. Christine must be tired. Maybe I should take our son, he thought. "Christine, you must be tired. Maybe I should take our son," he told her. Disturbed, she handed him to Raoul and sunk back onto the bed. She closed her eyes, and suddenly she was asleep.

Raoul looked at his wife. She was so pretty when she slept. He glanced at his son, wondering what exactly to do. Deciding to entertain him, the Comte sat in the bedside chair and wiggled his fingers in front of the child. The baby was quite odd – no crying, no laughing... such a serious baby...

What is that boy doing? Erik thought. Turning his head to see Christine, he was caught off guard by the Comte's voice. "Your mother is quite beautiful."

What? What does he mean by 'mother'? This makes no sense – wait. The angel said I would be reborn! But doesn't Nadir believe in that? Yes, I was right before... this makes absolutely no sense. How can I be Christine's son?

Raoul looked back down at his son. Gently holding him in one arm, he carried Charles to the nursery and set him down in the crib, all the while thinking. Christine cannot have another child... this is my only son...

The Comte smiled down at the infant lying on the bed who refused to close his eyes. "Charles, you must sleep now, or else you will be tired in the morning," he said. He knew that the baby couldn't understand him – how could he? - but talking to him couldn't hurt. Turning around to leave the room, he heard the baby sigh, as if sleeping was a chore for him. Confused, the new father left the room.

Erik laid in the crib, eyes wide open. He had been reborn, yes, but his habits stayed. I have another fifty years to look forward to. Hurray for me. Erik thought boringly.

Staring up at the ceiling, the helpless man prayed for the end, but knew it would not come. Suddenly, a thought reached his mind. Was he deformed?

He certainly hoped he wasn't. Of course, he probably wasn't – Christine would have shown her disgust, and the boy...

Death was hard to get. He had committed suicide, only to have yet another life. He was a good little Catholic who didn't believe in this type of thing – that is, until recently. But he still didn't quite believe. It was a horrifying situation to be stuck in!

Sitting up, Erik raised his hands to his face. The first thing he touched was a small, little button-sized nose. He felt around, and found that his face was perfectly healthy looking, without veins of any kind jutting out, or cheekbones poking out on the sides. Taking away his hands, he stared at them, amazed by how unskeletal looking they were. No bloodstains, nothing for him to show for his crimes in his first life. It was hard to image that he had taken the lives of so many people, and no evidence would point towards him.

I must not mess this chance up... I will do as the angel said. I will make myself a new life – a better life. I have been lucky enough to have been born with a nose. This is the day I will treasure forever, Erik mused on.

Standing up in the crib, he was amazed to see that his head didn't even reach over the top. He was also extremely weak, so he collapsed back down onto his back. He wanted attention from his Christine, he decided, and what better way to do it than a nice little cry...

Christine awoke from her slumber. She heard the sound of an infant wailing a few rooms away and instantly remembered – Charles! Jumping out of bed, she raced to the nursery to find her little child, face red, crying his heart out. Gently picking him up, she cooed, "Maman's here now, Charles. Be a good boy and stop crying..."

Erik stared up at her, eyes wide. He continued to cry, his fake tears being replaced with real ones. His darling Christine was holding him so close to her, he could feel her heart beating against her chest. He wanted to spend the rest of his life in this position.

The Comtesse had grown panicked. Why is he still crying? "Charles, please stop crying!"

The little baby looked up at her and stopped, seeing how panicked and scared she looked and sounded. You horrible monster! Scaring her out of her wits just for your own selfish reasons! He chided himself.

Despite this, Erik knew life was going to be perfect. His mother was Christine, and even though the boy was his father, he would find a way to be the perfect son to them.

Nine years later, the Comtesse Christine deChagny was proclaimed dead.

AN: OOH Cliffhanger! Sorry for not updating in a LONG time. I've got school, and I use my free time to keep sane. I wrote this chapter out of guilt, so enjoy every word of it, please! And if you don't, tell me what I need to improve! I love writing, so criticism is welcome! Thanks!

Erik: OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MADE ME AN INFANT.

Me: The sad thing is that I totally can.

Erik: I'm very disturbed that you killed off my new mother. What's the deal with that?

Me: It happened in Kay's book, so I'm just trying to keep canon. Besides, it makes for a wonderful cliffhanger.

Erik: I hate you. Did you know that?

Me: Kind of.

Erik: I hate you so much that the torture chamber would seem like a treat to you. I would boil you in oil and hang your limbs by needles until your throat ripped apart from screaming! I would then proceed to rip your flesh off inch by inch until there was nothing left!

Me: To tell the truth, that is slightly disturbing to think about, Erik. Besides, isn't this story rated teen or something? Don't make me have to rate it M just because of what you say here.

Erik: Sadly, I am a ghost, so I cannot do any of that.

Me: *sigh of relief*

Erik: HATING

AN: Erik seems a bit angry today... oh, well. He's usually like that, anyway! Review if you want, exit out of the window if you want, eat a cookie if you want, I don't really care what you do. If someone has anything to say about Erik's angry speech, kindly PM me about it. I don't want reviews about this section in the review space. Thanks. BUY WAIT NO BYE.

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I don't sell hair products. Or anything. DON'T LET YOURSELF BE TRICKED MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!