This is a work of fiction, and is based upon characters in Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012
K. E. Graham

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or other, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Oh, he loved the chase. She was hiding in his home or the opera house...hiding from him. It was all a game to him: she belonged to him anyway. Running away and cowering in a corner didn't change that. Nothing ever would. "I will find you, ma joli," he whispered, letting his voice reverberate around the whole building. He heard her shriek and start to run. He smiled. He had her now.

He found her cowering in her dressing room, a little mass of red fabric and brown ringlets. "How did I know that you would come here, ange?" the last word, usually a sweet endearment, was slightly bitter and sarcastic from his lips. She shrieked again and called for her boy to help her. He laughed evilly. No silly little boy would protect her from him. He opened the mirror and started to stalk towards his prize.

Suddenly, the blond boy he had been expecting to see flew out of the shadows and stood in front of the Phantom's woman. The masked man growled, "Get out of my way, boy. She belongs to me."

"Never, clever friend! I will protect her 'til the ends of the Earth!" the boy cried out. Growling, the Phantom swung the boy through the air and out of his way. The brunette woman he picked up, running through the shadows with her back to his home. When they arrived, he plopped her down unceremoniously on the divan before the fire. As he strode towards his high-backed chair he heard her give a discontented huff.

"Erik, you were supposed to let Etienne win," Christine said crossly. Erik laughed.

"Ma femme, I will allow our son to win when he puts up a challenge to me," Erik said, and then heard the patter of little feet. He put a finger to his smiling lips and hid in the shadows.

"Maman! Maman!" little Etienne, le fantôme d'apprentis, cried, running into the room and his mother's arms. She cuddled him close and pressed a kiss to the perfect nose of her child. He looked up at her with excited mismatched eyes. "I won! I won! I beat Papa for you!"

"You think so, my dear boy?" Erik whispered, right before grabbing his son round the middle and hugging him fiercely. The little boy squealed before hugging his beloved Papa back.

"I love you, Papa," Etienne muttered against his father's suit jacket.

"I love you too, mon fils," Erik murmured back. Christine smiled and decided to leave the room for their father-son bonding.

The second his maman was out of the room, the son of the Phantom of the Opera looked at his father and said, "Maman's going to have a baby. May I have a sister?"