A Flock of Angels

Erik thinks of his family. From 'Roses Blooming'.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. That goes to Leroux, Kay, Webber. I just lay claim to the kids.


They are angels – that goes without saying.

How they came into my care, I do not know.

I love them. Those three are the light in my dark life. Christine doesn't know, but I still have nightmares. Not as badly as before she came along, and not as often, but my past still haunts me.

I believe it always will.

But I thank God every day – He must exist when He gave me three angels to light my way – for the present. I do not say future, for I do not know how long this life I have now will last.

I am old, and I am ill. Not so ill as I was in my time beneath the opera, but the shadows are still there. I know I do not have too very much longer. I never had delusions that I would out-live Christine, or that I would see my children – heavens, it is still so unbelievable to say that – grown and married.

Many times more than I have let on, I feel pain. A swift flicker through my chest, no more than a fleeting spasm, but it reminds me that my time is surely shorter than theirs'.

But, oh, to let them see? Never! They are all too dear, too wonderful for me to ever even think of letting them see that I often feel such pain, however slight and momentarily it may be.

Christine. Good God, how can words describe her? She is the leader of the angels, surely. She saved me from death at a time when I hadn't a hope in the world that I would survive.

She was truly beautiful.

Patient and caring, she had nursed me through illness, calmed me after an attack, comforted me, and showed me my own worth when I was feeling sorry for myself. Time and again, she had shown a remarkable resilience I would not have expected in our first meeting.

But now, I knew better. Behind the large, soft blue eyes, was steel. Beneath the beloved curls of chocolate, was a keen intelligence and insight. I had known for some years now that Christine was not

the fragile creature I'd once thought.

In reality, I was the fragile one. Beyond my heart, my health had been declining through the recent years. I could feel it in the creep of arthritis, in the inexplicable shortness of breath, the occasional wheezing by the time I'd reached the top of the stairs in my own home.

I was old, and I was weakening. But I had to last at least long enough to protect my family.

Christine, little Charles, and Arabelle.

Oh, sweet Arabelle. There was something breakable in her, and I dreaded most her reaction should I die before she had a family of her own to turn to.

Arabelle was my pride and joy. By the time Charles had come along, I was willing to believe in miracles, but it was Arabelle's birth that made me sure that they could happen.

I loved everything about my girl. She was intelligent, and intuitive, understanding and clear-headed. She was so strong, my sweet daughter. Seventeen, and still so innocent.

She was more than I could ever have asked for, her and her brother.

But Charles was clearly Christine's little boy, just as Arabelle was my darling.

Charles was small, like Christine, but he was as intelligent and quick-witted as his sister. Not quite as musical, but he was young, and music, I had come to find, is not the only thing for people like Charles and me.

Even scarred, deformed outcasts can find happiness – I had – and I know for sure that Charles will as well.

They are all three of them what keeps me alive. I have no doubt that, on my own, without them, I would have died long ago.

I can only think, these days, that I survived all I did because I was meant to have them, in the very end; I was meant to have this.

Why, or how, I will never know, but it is enough for me that I've been gifted beyond what I deserve, with a flock of Angels.

Don't you just love sentimental Erik? See how happy he is? *chibi Erik is dancing on the arm of the couch with a big grin, and holding his family's hands* And we love our Erik to be happy, yes?

Anyway, I hope you all liked it. Review, please!