Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 5:Home Again

((Hello everyone! Two things, anyone who votes or lets me know they like this story I appreciate so much! Love you all. 

Second, this story has a slow start but please stick with it! It will be worth it I promise))

When the three finally arrived and collected their things in France, Erik found it much changed from the golden prosperity he had left it in. The cobblestones had lost their glamour and the town its light and noise. What had once been gleaming now to be sunk into pitiful darkness like the rest of his life? At least, now he had his wife and Gustave.

His family, the torch that would perhaps, God willing, save his tormented soul.

Christine had grown stronger day by day and now could walk with Erik's aid.

They would make rounds around the small room, her arm over his shoulders, sometimes walking, sometimes simply swaying to a music of no source.

She had grown stronger, but now she sat to rest by the luggage as Erik looked around nervously at the big clock near by.

"Darling, you can go on ahead, I will wait here until you send for me."

Erik remained emotionlessly watching the crowds from his place in the shadows.

"Darling." Christine smiled patiently, touching a gentle hand to his arm.

How easy it was to call him that. It slipped so eaisly from her tounge. So sweet they tasted  together without the frightened bitterness they caused her when directed at Raoul.

Still, Erik recoiled at her touch and turned around in a defensive shock.

Had she spoken those words to him? How could she call him such an endearing term with such ease? How had such a beautiful goddess come to love him besides his faults?

"Come Erik." Gustave said. "I'll take some of the luggage."

Christine smiled proudly, it pained her see her son grow up so fast but still, here he stood, a young man in his demeanor and maturity.

"You're sure you'll be alright?" Erik questioned worriedly.

Christine blushed and pushed him onwards,  "I'm no longer a child Erik."

Erik rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Right."

"Come on!" Gustave said with a grin, "Where are we going? Mother wouldn't say."

Erik said a few words to Gustave encouraging his patience then leaned lower to speak softly into Christine's ear.

"You're sure you'll be alright?" He murmured low and deep.

"Should I find myself in trouble," Christine smirked knowingly, "I'm sure you'll come running."

He kissed her cheek tenderly and took Gustave by the hand.

Quickly they weaved through the shortcuts and alleys of the harbor until they found the back entrance to the labyrinth.

The dark pit which once had held despair but also the dungeon of true light, the captured majesty of music where to this day Erik still knew it to reside.

Gustave looked up at his father. Those eyes that were so sad and melancholy. He sensed, had long suspected that Erik's heart was heavy with the weight of all his eyes had seen.

His Mother had told him of her days at the Opera Populaire. But when he asked of what fate had befallen it she dared not open her tongue.

Gustave reasoned that perhaps she did so in fear of Raoul, or perhaps in fear of her past.

There was still much Gustave didn't understand about the stranger of his father. What had happened to his mother in her days residing in this place?

Gustave knew children were to be seen, not heard and certainly forbidden to ask questions.

Raoul had sent him to a school with rules carved into stone. The silence was valued above intelligence, an environment unforgiving to a different mind.

And while Gustave had no physical deformity, the mark of difference was upon him. He stood apart, stood above, stood differently.

But Gustave had never had the protection of a mask to cover his talents.

Though he knew answers would come with time and age, as they always did, Gustave's thoughts could not help but wander to their own conclusions. When his mother had told him these stories she had spoken of the golden staircases the stretched high as the heavens and seats of velvet and silver.

Now as the masked vigilante led him silently, briskly through the doorway his eyes looked upon nothing but cold dreary misery and cobwebs.

The place enchanted him, scared him, appealed to him. And despite the cold reasoning he had been taught at school, he disregarded his better judgment, submitting down to the cold dreary staircase. Willingly led to the undergrounds of the lair.

Bits of water fell into Erik's hair and he brushed them off swiftly.

Down, down, down they plunged further into the darkness.

The strangest thing was occurring in Gustave's soul. Something he couldn't quite account for, a fondness, a familiarity as if he had dreamed this place before.

Was this the place that music came to? When all was lost, when all hope was gone, he felt destined to return to these catacombs. How had his father come here? Had the same force drawn him?

Erik looked at his son curiously, watching his small face twist between delight and complex excitement of terror.

Still, they continued down staircases, corridors. Past traps and gates and mirrors that Gustave shuddered to consider. He felt deep within him that the purpose of those instruments was perhaps best left unknown.

Down seemed like it would be never ending in that place. Finally, they reached a river at the bottom.

Gustave clung to his father's waistcoat tightly, fearing to let go for even a second.

Slowly, gracefully, Erik rowed with ease, his strong arms straining and flexing as he pushed forwards with all his might.

Gustave gasped in wonder as they reached the island admit the lake. It was so eerie, so sad that a fascination overtook him. How he wished to remain forever in this moment.

Erik looked down at him with intrigued confusion.

Part of his influence on Gustave scared him. He had changed so much in the past few weeks. For better or worse Erik knew not.  

Gustave marveled at himself as well. Only a week ago he had hated his father with whole devotion of mind and heart. Now, he couldn't bear to part from him.

Erik had his flaws, a nasty temper and quick hand but his love overcame those. Gustave feared for those in his wrath. 

Erik docked the boat and helped his son onto the shallow sands.

"I'll fetch your mother, as long as you remain on the island you'll be safe. Don't wander, Ill return in a moments time."

Gustave grinned in amazement as his father turned a piece of the entrance gate and lights illuminated all waters across the lake.

"I'll be fine!" Gustave stated confidently. "Send for mother."

Erik gave a skeptical look. Gustave seemed almost too excited.

Erik rolled his eyes.

Twisted every way, what answer could he give? He would always strive to please those he loved. 

"I'll be back in five minutes!" He reiterated.

Gustave had already wandered from his sight.

It was going to be a long day.

((If you could choose only one Erik from all the versions which would it be? Tell me in the comments below))