Please R&R, worked hard on this!

He lurked around every corner, searching for the object of his fury. He viewed a few drunkards sloshing about in the alleys. Disgusting. A girl roamed homeward, a dagger hidden in her coat. Not that that would protect her from him. She didn't know how close she stood to death. But he overlooked her, only whispering a hint of where to go to avoid trouble. She was frightened out of her mind as she looked around blindly to find the voice that chilled her spine. He smiled. At least she had listened as she ran away into the dark night. But his anger grew. He looked over the gamblers and the cheats, the drunks and the hustlers, the thieves and the whores. But he didn't find what he sought. His fury grew tenfold every moment he had to postpone his murderous intentions. Then he heard it. Softly at first, then louder, just barely perceptible under the hubbub of evening. No one else heard it, their senses were too dense for such a sound to be audible to them. He moved toward it instinctually, the soft desperate cry he had longed for all night. He let his anger and fury wax until his eyes grew blurred in rage. He saw the child, crying desperately, too young for words, as a man strangled it, beating it mercilessly. He crept silently behind the assailant and gripped his throat. This would be long, and slow. Such a man surely didn't deserve a quick death. He sliced his throat and banged his head against the wall, letting the warm blood seep between his fingers and run down the wall. He put all his effort into killing this man, and he watched his victim's eyes widen in horror and agonizing pain as he let out his final breath. It was over almost too quickly. Erik wiped his hands on his shirt and covered the child in his cloak.

What am I going to do with you? He wondered aloud, noting the bruises and cuts on the child's body. She couldn't be more than a year or so old, no more than an infant. Look at the mess his rage had gotten him into! Of course he couldn't just leave her here now! He sighed in frustration. He daren't take her to an orphanage lest he be seen.

The child whined softly, and he instinctually rocked it in his arms, shhh-ing it softly as he thought. Her soft fingers gripped his collar as she looked up at him silently. He looked down at her tiny face, her beautiful, bright green eyes. She looked right on back daringly, and he smiled.

"I suppose, just for a few days until I figure something out…" he whispered, tucking her into the crook of his arm, "But don't cause any trouble, or I'll put you right back where I found you!" he said sternly, only half serious. He was taken with her already. She fell asleep in the crook of his arm as he ventured silently back down into his lair, the dead and mangled body already forgotten in the alley.

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Madame Giry was braiding her hair softly down her back, just about to turn the lights out when she heard someone clear their throat.

"Erik! Must you lurk so? A simple knock would do at this time of night!" she scolded him half-heartedly, barely suppressing a wry smile.

" I need your help," he said quickly, straight to the point. But he winced. He despised asking for help.

"What is it?" she sighed. Knowing Erik, this had to be big or else he wouldn't have bothered asking her help. She gasped in surprise as he lowered his cloak. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been this-this child he held in his arms.

"I- I found her in the alleys, abandoned no doubt," he stated frankly.

"You can't possibly mean to- to keep her!" she looked at him horrified, his silence offering his guilt. "Let me see," she held out her arms for the child. He reluctantly handed her over to the woman, who immediately woke the child gently.

"Her eyes are bright, her nose is clear, mouth is pink, good, oh, but these bruises, oh this child has seen it I do declare, she seems clean enough, but goodness knows she will need to be changed." Erik wrinkled his nose in disgust as she removed the child's clothes and dumped the soiled rags. She bathed the child silently and wrapped it in a clean blanket. She cuddled the child close to her, warming it and letting it sleep. "And how do you mean to take care of her?" She hissed venomously. "To raise her? Do you mean to subject her to the same scorn and exile that you yourself were unfortunate enough to tolerate? The Phantom's Child; forbidden forever to view the outside world? You are a fool if you think I will permit this, Erik, a fool!"

"I didn't come here to be chastised," he reminded her wryly, "but I do need your help. And by the way, do I even need to say what would happen if you were to tell anyone of this? You imagine my restraint is far stronger than reality Madame."

"Your threats lost meaning many years ago, Erik," She remarked "But anyhow, if this child is to survive, she will need constant watching. That means no lurking, at least for a few months, and she will need diapers, food; tiny pieces so she doesn't choke. Clean clothes. I will see what I can do. Let her sleep with me tonight, until a proper bed can be arranged-"

"No- she might be heard, or seen. I won't take that risk."

"Very well, you must keep an eye on her then, so she doesn't fall off the bed. Keep her warm, if she wakes see if she will eat something, something soft. Return here in the morning and I will see what else we need." She muttered nervously to herself beneath her breath as she returned the child to the maestro-turned-vigilante-murderer.

She closed her eyes briefly; about to say something to him, but in truest Opera Ghost fashion, he had vanished in the second they were closed. She gave a sigh of disgust and went back to bed, muttering to herself about the sinful hands this poor child now rested in. She went to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of gin and a glass. This was going to be an interesting night.

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Erik held the child close to his chest the entirety of the trip down. She folded her little fist around his shirt, gripping it firmly. He firmly removed it from her grasp once they got to his dark sanctuary. He lay down on the bed slowly, cradling her in his arms. He watched her sleep curiously. She was so tiny and fragile. How had he ever imagined he could care for her? He hadn't the slightest idea how to care for her! But he would try. He knew what it would be like if he took her to an orphanage. He shivered at the very thought. He had been to orphanages before. Cold, needy places they were, with not enough food, blankets or love, to go around. He could at least do something for this child. At least watch the papers for any sign of the missing child. Surely someone must be looking for her! He certainly hadn't rescued her for the sake of condemning her! He could at least do his best. Until her parents could be found. But deep in his heart he knew he couldn't give up this chance so easily, this chance for unconditional love. Someone who would never imagine him as anyone other than who he was, someone who had grown up with his face, who wouldn't cringe away at the sight of him. Someone who he wouldn't have to manipulate for affection. And he had found her. And he didn't plan on letting her go. She snuggled deeper toward his body heat unconsciously in her sleep. She was his, and his alone. No one would ever take her, his daughter. His Bella Rose Nasreen.