Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 31: Inheritance ll

"Gustave," Erik said one morning. "I think it is time I impart some responsibility on you."

Gustave trembled ever so slightly. The last time his father had given him a job it was cleaning the bones out of the old sewer traps. Of course, his mother had quickly put an end to that.

"Yes, father?" Came his timid reply.

"I think Gustave, It's time you learned to be an opera ghost." Erik beamed, his reserved demenor dropping in a moment of ecstacy.

Gustave gave a look of skepticism.

"No killing, it was nearly always an accident you must realize. The actual work. It is a job, one that has fallen into sorry disrepair." Erik sighed in dismay.

Erik ran through many lists, lists of what a third bassoonist must have to succeed. What a ballet girl must lack in skill but make up for in acting. On and on he droned until Gustave could barely hear himself think.

"Will I get to wear the mask?" Gustave asked hopefully.

Erik gave a slight roll of his eyes, "If you real-"

"I accept," Gustave grinned, shaking his father's hand. "You won't regret it I swear."

"I like the mask."  Christine said peeking around the corner, "Its a part of your father, one I will treasure as the first I saw and the last part if his barriers to be stripped away."

Erik smiled as she kissed his cheek, spinning her around and kissing her passionatly- Gustave closed his eyes. 

------
The next few days his father accompanied him, teaching him new paths he had never seen before, showing him the names of conductors and singers and actors alike. Gustave learned them all by heart.

Early one September morning, he said goodbye to his mother and siblings and father and placed the porcelain mask gently on to his face.

Let his days as Opera Ghost begin again.

It was different this time, different than the harmless game he had played with Anabel as a child. He was grown, and now there was risks and responsibility to be accounted for.

How he scoffed at all the Parisians that plagued the whole of the opera.

A necklace was love, a diamond ring was love. He didn't understand, how could they make such complications of that which was so dull and simple.

Any time, and under every banister and wall, were a pair in love. How despicable, how loathsome. How he enjoyed dropping spiders on them from his heights above.

He had caught glimpses of Autumn's name in the papers in the last few weeks, his father always pulled it away before he could see. But he knew enough. Enough to know she was to become an escort to someone young and rich and famous. That they would buy her love and youth away with those same necklaces and diamonds that all professed were the joy of passion.

How could she be so blind?

Living in the walls he heard gossip aplenty from all the young students. Yet how much could be believed was always in the air, never to come down to fact.

Gustave smiled only half to himself, this was insane, him going alone through ceilings and boxes dropping notes and coaching an entire Parisian society in its musical ways,

To explain things he didn't even understand. But something inside him was gleefully excited at the prospect of the unknown. Others feared death, feared disease, feared smaller things like a failure.

How strange his life would look to the small boy who wanted to learn to swim on Coney island all those years ago.

Gustave cherished all experiences, good and bad, in his mind they were what made a life.

He had snuck into the dormitories to find that one little girl had left her practice shoes behind.

An evil idea of snatching them up appeared to him and he was about to execute it when he heard a footstep on the creaking floorboard.

"This is no place for you sir." A boy stated firmly, "This is for students only."

Gustave looked up slightly, his coat resting half on the bed and half around his shoulders.

"Are these your shoes?" He teased, he made sure to raise only the unmasked half of his face in the young boy's direction.

"Yes sir." the boy said almost angrily, "They were my sisters I've come to collect them. She's dead."

Gustave was taken aback by the boy's harsh reply.

"I hadn't known." Gustave stuttered, ths joy of his prank vanishing, "Forgive me."

The young boys face softened, "Its alright. She was living here, happily. Scarlett fever."

Gustave nodded and stepped aside.

The boy, intrigued more than frightened by the older more handsome Gustave in the ballet room decided to continue the conversation.

"You were here for my sister?" The boy asked in a brash angry tone of suspsion.

"No! Good heavens no!" Gustave laughed. "I come only for my own amusement. I like to scare the younger ones sometimes, just the silly ones without sense."

The boy frowned, "Without sense does not mean without heart."

Gustave fell quiet in shame.

"My apologies, I used to tease my sister as you do, you've done no wrong sir." The boy whispered. "It's just been hard. Do you have any siblings?"

Gustave nodded.

"A sister?"

Again a smaller nod.

"Don't let them go." The boy sighed heavily, "I have one now, just born, sick, barely breathing. Jane's her name. If she survives she'll get the shoes. that's why I've come. And a brother, James, James is his name."

He mumbled their names repeatedly as if he needed to comfort himself that he hadn't lost everyone.

"And your name?" Gustave asked, removing the mask and turning to face him completely.

"Peter," he said extending a hand. "Peter Jammes."

"Gustave," The elder smiled, "Nice to meet you."

Peter clung to the shoes and held them close to his chest. "I feel had I not arrived, had you learned the story I would have seen them again anyway. You seem a good man."

"You seem a good brother," Gustave noted. "Should your family ever need anything, please let me know. You needn't seek me out, I'm always listening."

Peters face furrowed in interest, "How is that so?"

Gustave gave a shrug, turned and climbed up and through the ceiling wall, leaving Peter staring amazed behind him.

"When you say the word, Peter." Gustave shouted back once he had dissapeared into the walls, "Your obedient servant, will be there."

Peter flashed a grin, looked around one last time and bolted from the room, shoes held tightly in his hands.

Gustave smiled.

Perhaps the people of Paris were not all bad after all.