Rose's POV

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cried.

"I can't. I can't!" I tried to tell Madame Giry this before, but she wouldn't listen.

"You can, Rose. I know it's hard, but you can… Rose listen to me…"

"Erik! Let Erik in! Please Madame!"

"You know he can't, Rose, he has to wait."

"Madame Please!" I cried through my tears.

"Oh fine." She turned her head slightly toward Nadir who was standing by, incase help was needed. He nodded back and slipped from the room. Another wave of pain raked through me and I yelped. A few moments passed and a warm hand swiped stray hair and sweat from my face. I clutched Erik's hand as the convulsions continued.

"Erik, please sing." He lowered himself to my ear and sang a quiet song. I concentrated on the words, on his voice, anything but the pain.

"Just a little more, Rose." I heard Madame Giry say somewhere in all of the commotion. I cried as I gave it all I had. My efforts were rewarded with a child's cry in a few moments. Erik paused.

"Don't stop." I said, trying to stop the shaking that was taking over my limbs. He continued to sing the lullaby when Madame Giry called out.

"It's a girl." I gave a weak smile. Erik also was smiling, stroking my hand.

"You did it." he whispered. Madame Giry walked toward us holding a bundle of blankets. I held my shaking hands out and Madame placed the child into my care. When I pulled my arms back towards my body, I started to slightly cry.

"Look little one, you're here. See your papa?" I said, angling her so that Erik could see her. She had a tuft of blonde hair on her head, but her eyes were still closed. Erik stared, amazed at the child. Our child. He reached out and tapped her nose lightly. I know that wasn't my nose, but it would have been what Erik's nose looked like. On contact, the girl's eyes opened, revealing bright amber colored eyes. Almost completely matching Erik's gold eyes.

"My eyes." He whispered almost inaudible.

"You in every way." I whispered.

He shook his head and moved his hand to his face. I grabbed his hand and moved it to our daughter's shoulder, where he failed to notice the slight deformity that lay there. His eyes watered in anguish at the realization.

"Erik, why must you cry? She's beautiful." I told him. He'd have to learn this once and for all. "You will not cast her aside because of a small flaw, why must you do it to yourself?"

"I brought this upon her."

"Yes. And she will be beautiful because she's special. Whoever cannot look at her and love, they shouldn't even bother. But do you know what? I know there will be a wonderful man who will sweep her off her feet just like you did me."

He twirled his finger in a stray lock of mine and smiled.

"You are so beautiful." Then he turned to our daughter.

"You are so beautiful." He said to her. "Little Anya."

I laughed and placed her in Erik's arms. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He smiled as Anya wrapped her wand around his finger.

Eighteen Years Later

Erik's POV

Rose walked into the kitchen of our flat and laid the mail on the counter. Years ago, we moved out of the opera house and into a small flat above our shop. I made instruments and Rose taught lessons. We were happy.

"Anya comes back today!" She said, excited. "It seems like forever since she went off to help that man."

Nadir had brought Anya along on her seventeenth year to tour the country and write. Rose and I were somewhat surprised to find that Anya didn't aspire in music, but in literature. Ever since she was a child she wrote little stories, but as she grew older they became deeper and with more meaning.

No one would read stories written by a woman, so Nadir took her up to one of his friends who published them under a false name. She enjoyed her travels, as they gave her inspirations for more plots.

A knock sounded on the door and Rose's eyes lit up. "That will be them." I said, rising from the kitchen table to join her to the door.

As soon as the door handle was turned, the door flew open and we were ambushed by Anya. The laughed as we all fell into a big heap on the floor. Nadir made way for another man who stepped in before Nadir closed the door behind him. I looked at the man while helping my daughter and wife onto their feet.

"Oh, papa, mama, I missed you so much." Anya said, kissing us both on the cheek.

"Who might this be?" I asked. Anya turned and held out her hand for the man to come closer. I realized this was a boy of her age and instantly became cautious.

"This is Jean, Papa. We met him in Switzerland. He was an violinist at an opera there." She said smiling rather dazedly at the boy. He had dark brown hair that fell over his flickering green eyes and a strong built, but slight frame.

"I wanted you both to meet him."

"How do you do, sir?" the boy said raising his hand for a handshake. I took his hand and took him in. He did not make the slightest show of uncomfortableness at my mask.

"Let's all have some lemonade; I'm sure it was extremely hot out there." Anya led everybody to the kitchen and Rose held me back for a few moments.

"Don't be so coarse. Need I remind you what we were like before we got married?" She said, coaxing a blush that I had to push back down. She kissed me quickly before Anya called for us.

"Papa, I have something for you. Nadir helped me with some of it, but I spent all of my spare time writing it in between books." Anya said, as we walked into the kitchen. Nadir pressed a glass of lemonade to each of our hands and Anya took out a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Anya often wrote poems and short stories for us when she came home; it had become something of a tradition. Whenever she came home, she wrote us a story, and we wrote her a song.

She'd never written anything longer than ten pages, but this book was at least three hundred. I could tell she'd been working on it for a long time. Anya bit her lip; monitoring my reaction as Rose placed her head on my shoulder and I took the parcel. I tore the paper covering off and stared in wonder at the new book.

Rose gasped and I stood staring at the book. The Phantom of the Opera, the title read.

"Nadir helped a lot. He told me about it all, and I realized what a great story it could be, so I just thought you should read it before I published it."

Rose insisted that Anya's pen name should be Gaston Leroux, just for irony, but I'm sure never thought about this happening. Rose took the book and flipped through it, reading an excerpt from the end, and smiled.

"It's accurate." She whispered to me. "To what really happened."

"It's lovely." She told Anya. Anya smiled and laid her head on Jean's shoulder. I tensed slightly, but calmed when Rose squeezed my hand. Let it go, she seemed to say.

Hey guys, so that was the last chapter of this story head over to my new story Love, Music, & Error. I hope you guys like it! Thank you to all the awesome people who have stayed with this story, you are awesome!