Chapter Thirty-Two – Bliss and Babies

A fortnight after their departure, le Comte et Comtesse Chevalier disembarked from their carriage and entered their estate as dusk took hold of Paris.

"It will be Christmas soon," Angelique mused, stepping into the darkened house. "I'll have to go shopping…do you suppose we could have a party? Invite the others?"

"A party," Erik chuckled, taking his hat off before assisting his wife with her wrap. "I never imaged I would be hosting a party, much less with you. Of course, Angelique, we may have a party."

"Good," a voice in the dark parlor said, the room suddenly ablaze in light. Erik had a reeling sense of dejavu as all those dear to them leapt out from behind their hiding places and grinned, shouting out, "Welcome home!"
"Mon Dieu," he uttered, gaping at them with wide eyes.

"What a lovely surprise!" Angelique beamed, running to the girls and embracing each of them.

"One too many surprises and parties, if you ask me," Erik shook his head, coughing as Raoul smacked him playfully upon the back.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, mon ami," the Vicomte grinned, earning a murderous glare from Erik. "It's nice to have you back."

"Nice to have you back."

He had never imagined Raoul de Chagny would be declaring this, much less even mean it, but he did, and it made him…dare he say it, happy? He was surrounded by a sea of smiling faces, with an exuberant dog yipping at his heels, ecstatic at his master's return. "I had no idea we were missed."

"Don't be snippy, Erik," Philippe chuckled. "Of course we missed you both."

"Tell us about the trip, my man!" Adelshire beamed, motioning for them to move towards the fire. "How was it? Did you enjoy it?"

"Did you see any operas or plays in England, Maestro?!" Adrien asked.

Erik let them bombard him with questions, answering as simply as he could as he slowly grew accustomed to the attention he was receiving. He accepted the glass of wine, the kisses from his pet pooch, the grins and laughter of his comrades…he smiled slowly, sipping his drink. It felt good to be home.

~OG~

"Angelique!" the corps de ballet screeched in delight as they ran to their seamstress-turned-mistress. "Welcome home!"

"You couldn't have missed me that much!" she laughed, kissing each girl chastely on the cheek or forehead.

"Oh, but we did! We did!" the younger ones cried out, tugging at her fine dress and cloak as she entered the dormitories.

"Then I have gifts to reward you for your patience and love," she grinned, motioning for the stagehands to walk in with the boxes of little trinkets and souvenirs from the British Isles. The girls were instantly thrown into a greedy, excited frenzy, thanking the young woman for her kindness and generosity. The stagehands stayed behind, helping pass out the gifts, shaking their heads and chuckling in amusement at the girls' reactions. Before they left, Angelique placed her hand on one of the men's shoulders and whispered in his ear, "That last box I told you to leave outside is for all you gentlemen from Comte Chevalier. Think of it as an early Christmas gift."

"A gift?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Madame," one of the boys called, sticking his head in the room. "The wine and food out here, should we bring it in?"

The stagehand gawked at Angelique, who winked at him. "Remember, moderation," she said sternly, referring to the drinks. "Otherwise, my husband will not be so generous or understanding the next time around."

He nodded his head violently, tipping his hat to her. "Oui, Comtesse!" he promised, hurrying out to join his fellow workers.

"You're spoiling everyone, you know," Sorelli scowled as she entered the dormitories, Meg hot on her heels. "If you start pampering them-"

"It's just a way to celebrate our wedding with those who weren't invited," winked Angelique. "Speaking of inviting, I don't suppose you two would be interested in helping me plan the Christmas party?"

"Of course!" Meg smiled, her face lighting up. "Will Christine help-?"

"Yes, I made her promise," Angelique laughed, embracing the dancer.

Sorelli chuckled, sighing as she absentmindedly ran her hand over her belly. The girls caught the action and sent her a wide-eyed look, causing her to blush. "…it's only a suspicion!" she hissed. "You can't tell, not yet! I need to check with the doctor."

Meg giggled. "How exciting!"

"Oh! I wanted to check the new shipment that came in yesterday," Angelique gasped, snapping her fingers as she remembered. "I'll be in my workroom."

"Can we visit you later?" Cosette called out as she heard Angelique state she was leaving. "Oh, please?! And you can tell us more about London?"

As the other little ballet rats begged and pleaded, the Comtesse smiled in defeat. "Very well, but I'll need some time for myself first, so I can organize the majority of the fabrics, understood?" They all chirped their promises, sending Sorelli's eyes rolling. Laughing, Angelique waved as she left the room, gathering her skirts into her hands before walking out. No sooner had she made it down the hall, she could hear the soft patter of delicate feet following her.

"Angelique, wait!" Jammes called out, making her wince.

"Oh dear Lord…" "Jammes? Is something wrong?" she asked innocently, embracing the girl as she came to her side.

"Oh, no! Everything's fine," she smiled brightly. "Thank you for the necklace! How was your trip?"

"Lovely, thank you," she answered, relaxing a bit. Perhaps she wasn't going to say it-

"The Phantom missed you!"

Never mind.

"Pardon?" she asked, struggling not to grimace before the girl.

"He hasn't shown up in days since you got married and left!" Jammes explained, following after her stead as she walked back to the workroom. "And just this morning, I was walking down one of the passages until I reached your room and I heard him sigh, 'Angelique! Mon ange…' He's missed you! He's in love with you!"

"Erik!" she wanted to scream. Jammes was beaming rather smugly, irking Angelique for the first time since they had known one another. "The Phantom of the Opera does not miss seamstresses," she insisted coolly, her eyes falling upon the door, just a few steps away.

"But you're so much more than a seamstress!" the girl insisted. "Can't you see? He's probably heartbroken! Things have been so much better in the Palais since you came and stayed here."

"Mon cher, you are dreaming-"

"Then what about when the Ghost stole you away that night I was with you in the hall?" she jeered. "I looked away for an instant and you were gone! Vanished!"

"I hid away behind a pillar," she lied. "I just wanted to scare you. I didn't think you'd actually fall for it-!"

"That's not true! I know you're lying!" she pouted, stomping her foot. "I think you like the Ghost as much as he likes you – you just won't admit it."

Angelique sighed, shaking her head. "Jammes, the only way to prove that the Opera Ghost was in love with me is if you managed to get him to step out and show himself-"

A thin, gloved hand shot out from the shadows, grasping her hand in a swift, coveted manner. Jammes's dark eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she caught sight of a tall silhouette hidden in the darkness, the only things visible were a white mask that covered most of his face, a wide-brimmed fedora that shadowed his masked face, his fluttering cloak, and a set of golden, catlike eyes.

"Angelique…" his voice slithered out of his lips silkily, causing the two girls to shiver. He took her hand and kissed it before withdrawing a single red rose from the folds of his billowing cape and placing it in her fingers. He gave a sharp tug, yanking her into the dark and taking hold of her chin, chuckling as she gasped at his actions. "No matter what, my little seamstress, you are mine," his velvety voice rumbled seductively. With a quick tilt of his head, he stole a kiss from her before the ballerina before releasing her and bowing before casting a wicked grin at Jammes's direction, winking before he disappeared into a cloud of unexplainable mist.

They stood there, frozen stock still – Jammes gaping at the dark corner in which the Ghost had revealed himself to her, Angelique gripping the rose she had received and reeling from the kiss she had earned. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to swoon or rip his head off, but either way, she was going to have to scold him for encouraging Jammes's already wild imagination.

"…is he…?" the girl asked, timidly reaching out and waving her arm into the void. She waited, half-expectant that something would jump out at her. When she was quite satisfied that he was absolutely gone, she glanced over at Angelique, blinking out of her stupor and fighting to regain her composure.

"Ah…um, Jammes? I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you not to say anything to the others…?" Angelique blushed, her stomach twisting in a knot as she saw the teenaged child squeal in delight.

"I told you!" Jammes beamed. "Don't worry, I won't say anything, but you'd better watch out, he might do it in front of the others next time!"

"Oh merde," she cursed, watching the dancer scurry away giddily. Heaving an exhausted sigh, she continued down the hall until she arrived in her dear little workroom, locking the door after her. Instantly, his arms materialized around her, pulling her towards his body. "Erik!" she gasped, startled by his presence, though she knew she shouldn't have been. "Good God, Erik, what you did back there-?!"

"It was all in good fun," he reassured her soothingly, his voice almost hypnotic as he began to kiss her neck. "The little ballet rat wouldn't leave you be until she saw what she wanted…and besides, the 'Ghost' instigated the little kiss, not you." He laughed merrily against her skin, raising goosebumps as he muttered, "To think she finds it romantic…"

"Erik, I should slap you for doing that in front of her – she'll never stop pestering n-Oh!" she choked, her eyes rolling back as he breathed behind her ear and ran his hands lavishly over her stomach. "S-s-she'll s-start to spread-d ru-mors!" she fought back, swooning as he kissed her sensuously. She grabbed onto his shoulders, her knees weakening against her will as he swept her into his arms.

"Let her," he murmured. "None of the girls will believe her…I don't suppose they'd notice if you'd gone missing for an hour or two?"

"Erik…" she moaned against his lips, his body warming at the sound of her voice uttering his name. Somehow, he maneuvered his way to the wall and opened the passage, slipping inside with her wife, kidnapping her to the depths of his dark, hidden abode…

~OG~

One Month Later…

The snow continued to fall lightly on the brightly lit houses of the Parisian streets. The Chevalier household was included here, as the sounds of music, laughter, and a hearty fire crackling melted all together behind the frosted windowpanes.

"This really is charming," Christine smiled, her hand running over the little bulge that had appeared as her belly slowly but surely began to grow. "It was a lovely idea to have us over for Christmas supper."

"Considering the grand party we threw nearly a week ago, I didn't think your husband would want to have us over again so soon," Sorelli snickered. Her stomach, also, began to poke out, though Christine's was significantly more noticeable.

"I think Erik secretly likes these gatherings," Angelique winked as she offered the girls more tea and cider. "He's not very social, though, so he can't always express himself or join in as easily."

"That's debatable," Mary giggled, nodding at the group of men on the other side of the room as they smoked their pipes and drank merrily, discussing a myriad of topics by the hearth.

"And now you have been proposed to," Meg beamed, turning their attention to Becca. "I never thought Nadir would ask!"

"Neither did I, considering how silent and solitary he is," she blushed.

"It's all so wonderful," Mary blushed, glancing over at Adrien, who in turn cast a secret glance in her direction.

"Oui, it is," Juliette Giry bobbed her head in agreement, accepting an embrace from the side from the young Comtesse. "You have changed, mon cher. You've become a beautiful young woman."

"If it wasn't for your kindness, I wouldn't have made it this far," Angelique insisted, remembering that snowy night, just a year ago, when Madame Giry had found her outside in the slush. "You have become very dear to me…all of you."

"I never imagined our lives would become so cheery once the master had passed on," Fanette sighed. "He was lonely most of the time, and then of course he fell ill…oh, forgive me, dear Angelique, but you're the daughter I never had!"

"Thank you…I like to think you've become my new mother, you know," she smiled, embracing the old woman and kissing her cheek. "And you as well, of course," she laughed as Madame Giry pouted until she received her own kiss.

"Then you'll forgive me if I ask out of turn…" The cook raised her eyebrow at the girl, a gleeful smile on her lips. "Did you tell him yet?"

Angelique shook her head, her shining hair shaking around her face as she blushed. "No…I wanted to tell him this morning after you checked but…oh, I don't know. I wanted to find the right moment."

"There's no time like the present," Christine offered. "Go on."

Taking a deep breath, Angelique held her head high and strode over to the men, her skirts swishing rhythmically.

"Ah, here is the princess now!" Nadir winked, kissing her hand as she joined their circle. "Thank you for always opening your doors to us."

"Of course, Nadir – you're all family," she smiled, squeezing his hand gently before turning to Erik. "Erik…I should like to speak with you for a moment…alone?"

He raised an eyebrow at her but nodded, setting his violin down as he walked off to join her. "Stay, Paien," he ordered the loyal canine, watching him sit his bottom on the polished floor. "Good dog…" He placed his arm around her and led her towards the empty dining room, shutting the door after him before taking a step towards her. "What's wrong?"

"What? Oh, nothing's wrong," she reassured him, shaking her head. "If fact…everything is fine…or, it will be in a few months."

"Months?" he echoed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Erik," she breathed, taking his hands in hers. "You like creating things, don't you? Well…you created something…inside of me."

"What the devil are you…?" His eyes widened substantially, his jaw dropping. "…no…it couldn't be-!" He froze as she took his hands and placed them on her belly, squeezing his fingers as if to get the message across. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "…when…when did you find out?"

"This morning," she whispered. "Fanette used to be a midwife, you know…it explains why I was so sick these past few days…and my temper." She blushed, bowing her head as she remembered the occasional, unexplainable spurts of frustration, anger, and exhaustion she felt for no apparent reason. "…I'm pregnant." It was redundant to say it, but she felt the need to speak it, as thought it would finally make the idea real.
"Pregnant…!"

"Mon Dieu," he muttered, falling to his knees. He was trembling now as he rested his forehead against her belly, the idea of a small person lying inside of her because of him frightening and appealing all at once. "If…if he…or she…if the baby looks like…me, then-"

"Then we will love him or her, together," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. "I know it's frightening…I'm worried, just because I've never…well, you know…never had children, obviously," she blushed. "…but the child is ours, Erik…and that's all that matters." She knelt down, joining him at his level and kissed his lips. "No matter what, we'll love our baby."

"Yes…yes, I know we will," he mumbled, trancelike as he spoke. The flicker of fear remained inside him, however, leaving him to silently fight on whether he should be happy or scared out of his wits for the poor, unborn soul.

~OG~

Five Months Later…

"You're certain you don't mind changing this room for the baby?" Angelique asked, looking around Christine's old room. It would be a shame to change it, but she was adamant that one of the rooms in Erik's underground house – now used as a sort of vacation home, as well as private office – have a place for their child.

"Of course I don't mind," he answered as he joined her in the room, unrolling a parchment before her, an elaborate design for the new room scribbled on the surface. "It's for the…baby." He still had difficulty with the word, and deep down she knew he was petrified for the baby, that he or she should come out looking just like him.

"Oh!" she gasped, her hands falling upon her ever growing belly.

"What is it?" he asked, his head whipped towards her as she exclaimed the word.

"He – or she – is kicking again," she grinned, rubbing her stomach as she felt the little one within her wriggle around. "Erik, give me your hand."

"I don't think-" he protested, his arm falling limp as she grabbing him and placed his hand on her stomach.

There was no movement now, the child perfectly still within her.

"Sing something, Erik," she insisted.

He shook his head. "Angelique, my love, I don't thi-OH!" He almost leapt back as the baby shifted and kicked at the sound of his voice, moving towards the warmth of his hand. Angelique giggled at his reaction, watching his worry melt away as a smile of wonder grew on his thin, yellow lips. "He's feisty…like his mother."

"He?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I just…had a feeling," he shrugged, blinking in surprise as the baby continued to move under his touch.

"Sing for him, then," she pleaded, her eyes glistening with excitement.

He sighed, a sweet lullaby dancing from his lips and enveloping the three of them in its soft, beautiful cocoon. Erik couldn't stop the smile on his face as he imagined feeling the baby's hand stretching for his own. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all…

~OG~

Four Months Later…

He wanted out now.

The blasted baby couldn't have waited another minute. Oh no, he interrupted the performance in the middle of The Magic Flute, as Angelique's water broke and contractions started to plague her.

"Mon Dieu!…Erik, it's time," she hissed, grasping her stomach violently as she gripped his arm.

It was too risky to try and get her to the house underground, and there was no telling what could happen if he tried to get her to their home, so it was that he managed to help her out of Box Five and lock themselves in Becca's dressing room.

"What is it?" the Persian demanded, entering without knocking.

For once, Erik was grateful that he was so nosy. "The baby…is…coming," Erik gasped, helping Angelique lie down on the divan. "Get a doctor – now!"

Within fifteen minutes, Nadir had brought in their physician – who, thankfully and unfortunately, had decided to enjoy tonight's performance at the Garnier Opera – and set to work at once. Moments later, Madame Giry and Fanette burst into the scene.

"Get him out!" Fanette demanded of Nadir as Angelique started screaming. Madame Giry was already pouring out a tea that was supposed to help with the pain, all the while searching for a gag if necessary.

"No!" Erik snarled when a sudden burst of pain spread through his neck and lower skull, causing him to sink to the floor. When he awoke, Nadir, Lamar, and Adelshire surrounded him, their faces full of concern as the muffled screams of his wife resounded in the backstage passages. "Angel-ique," he said, his voice slurred as his vision continued to swim. "Let me-"

"She'll probably gouge your eyes if you try to go in there and see her," Nadir warned him.

"She's doing fine," Rupert Adelshire promised as a rather long, strangled cry reached their ears.

"Lies," he grimaced, forcing himself to sit up, only to have his head pound with pain. "Damn it all to hell!" he cursed, falling back against the wall. "Daroga, what do you do-?!"

"I had to get you out, and you wouldn't come willingly…I am sorry," he apologized.

"What did you hit me with?" he growled, reaching up and delicately touching his scalp.

"The ottoman," he answered, almost smiling at him, which only fueled his anger and panic as each second passed.

"I have…to help her!" he gasped.

Lamar touched his arm, shaking his head. "Non, mon ami…she'll be all right. She's strong."

"But…" His eyes pricked with tears despite his best efforts. Some women died in childbirth – sometimes the children with them. What if he was left all alone, just like that, and it would be all his own fault-?

"Merde!" Lamar gasped, all four men gaping as a baby's cries replaced Angelique. The three friends sighed in relief and grinned, helping Erik to his feet.

"Oh good, he's awake!" Madame Giry chirped as she poked her head out into the hall, opening the door for them. "Come inside…there's someone your wife wants you to meet, monsieur."

"How long…was I out?" Erik asked warily, glaring at the Persian.

"Six hours," Nadir smirked. "After I rendered you unconscious, I had Lamar and Rupert make a tonic that would keep you in your slumbering state a while longer. Whenever you would stir, we'd make you drink some."

"You all drugged me?!" he nearly roared, enjoying the looks of terror on their faces when a gleeful gurgle made him freeze. His eyes moved slowly towards the source, his heart aching as he saw Angelique, covered with blankets and lying on the divan, holding a bundle in her arms.

"Congratulations, Comte Chevalier," the doctor said, shaking hands with him. "It's a healthy baby boy. He shared a few words with the others before departing and promising to return in the morning, but Erik hear nothing. He stumbled forth, feeling as though he was trudging through mud, until he fell at his knees by Angelique's side.

"Erik," Angelique sighed, her hair sticking to her sweaty, shining face. She breathed deeply, clearly exhausted from the ordeal, but her eyes glistened. "Look at him…look at our son." She moved the blanket from the baby's head, displaying a soft white face with a wisp of chestnut hair forming on his tiny head. The baby's face was unusually angular, but it was a normal face, with bright stormy-blue eyes that blinking at Erik. He smiled at once, gurgling gleefully as he reached his tiny hand for his father's face.

"Our son," Erik choked, unconsciously reaching for the child's tiny fingers. He let the baby grip his thin forefinger, laughing as the child took his hand to his little mouth and suckled on it. "He's…perfect." He silently thanked God that the child was normal – no gaping hole where a nose should be, no terrifying eyes that glowed in the dark, no thin, transparent lips…no, with the exception of his defined facial structure, there was nothing that could pinpoint him as a freak, a monster…and if there had been, he would have loved him either way, and made a mask to protect his child.

"You can hold him, you know," she said softly, laughing softly as he stared at her in horror. "Just be sure to hold the head…here, I'll show you…"

Despite his feeble protests, he allowed her to place the child in his arms, his chest swelling with pride as he held the tiny figure that clung to him for dear life.

"My, my…" he could hear Adelshire chuckle.

"What is his name?" Fanette asked, giddy with excitement.

"Gerard," Angelique told them. "His name is Gerard…my father's name."

Erik blocked them all out – all except Angelique. Her voice floated to his ears each time she managed to speak, but the world around him dissolved as he smiled at the baby boy that lay contentedly in his arms, placing all the love and trust he possessed in this stranger that he would call "father". "Gerard…welcome home, Gerard."