Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 8: Debts and collections

Christine took her husbands hand and smiled eagerly. 

"What is it?" Erik asked slowly, turning the pages of the morning paper. He discovered a newfound love for reading now that there was someone to bring him publications without causing an uproar. He had read through all of Shakespeare and Balzac and all the greats, composing their plots as songs in his head, rising and falling with the action. 

"Gustave said something very interesting to me last night..."

Here Erik paused and looked up. He thought he had explained himself clearly only yesterday.

"What now?" He almost snapped. Domestic life, without the thrill of stalking an entire population of people and composing every hour had him on an angry schedule, destined to lead to some conflict.

But Christine was calm and forgiving, though Erik was beginning to try her temper. 

"He said he quite likes living here with Father." 

Erik set his paper down. "Pardon me, my dear?"

Christine beamed from head to toe, and while her skin was pale and fraught with delicacy she began to glow with joy. 

"He doesn't call you Erik anymore," She laughed, "You're officially a Father. Though I never thought it would take longer than this, Raoul was a sorry excuse for a parent and you are so kind and gentle with him."

Erik smirked evilly, "I get to show him box five now?"

Christine frowned, not amused int he least, "Erik some respect in the least would not go undue." 

"Come now," He said with an eyebrow raised, "If we can not laugh then we cry. I much prefer to laugh. Besides we are French!"

Christine gave a chuckle, "Not Gustave, he was born in London."

Erik feigned disgust, "Suddenly I love him less."

Christine pushed him angrily, though Eriks frame was frail and sickly, he held his ground with remarkable strength. Yet just to please her, he stepped back a few inches.

Proud of herself she slowly rose and traveled to the piano.

"In all my years," She laughed, "I never learned truly how to play."

"I never showed you." Erik admitted.

Christine looked at him curiously, "Why?"

"Because I feared you would become greater than I. What time would I have left to teach you to love me if I had nothing to teach."

Christine laughed, her hair falling over her shoulders as her smile spread from head to toe. "Erik I am sure, that at some point or another I would have found myself here."

"And I here," Erik smiled. "How fortunate that we were destined to be found at the same place."

"Enough of destiny," Christine teased, "Let us go to supper. There we will see what Gustave's cooking has in store.

Christine was still under the shroud of weariness after a sleepless night and returned to bed soon after she thanked the little chef for his great efforts on eggs and toast and jam. 

"Papa, when will we collect my things?" Gustave asked with a curious glance as he finished his meal. Though finished was relative, the boy rarely ate more than a bite in the mornings. 

"What things?" Erik responded. Hadn't he supplied him with enough? What could he possibly have forgotten?

"I had a telescope and my school books..." He started. 

Erik looked at him confused, those didn't seem like the things a ten-year-old would want so badly he'd risk seeing Raoul again. 

Gustave sighed, scanning his room for his mother and once her presence was assured as absent he lowered his voice  "...and my grandfather's violin."  

His father suddenly was listening.

Erik had known Gustave Daae. Never personally, but respected him as both a great man and artist. He understood the power of music, and the beauty in the darkness. Erik had mourned him right alongst Christine when he died. What a long time ago that was now.

"My father said that if mother ever gave him the chance he'd..sell it. He said it made too much loud noise." Gustave said in a grave horror.

Erik's heart filled with determination.

"Gustave, I promise you, you will have that violin." he guaranteed.

"Its alright I don't need it. Honestly, if it's too much to ask. I don't even know how to play..." He insisted. His eyes, however, pleaded otherwise. 

"Then you shall learn how to play it. I promise Gustave I will get it back for you. I will send post and we will receive word by weeks end. We shall get your other things too, your clothes and telescope and books."

Erik said with great conviction. 

Gustave laughed to himself imagining his beautiful telescope in the dark of the lake house.

He couldn't see what good a telescope would be in the dark.

Gustave deep down inside, was secretly still afraid of his father. His new father, his real father. The thought of his things brought back memories of a father who had tried to bribe his affections, with none true enough to spare.

Erik, while never bribing, kindness or not, had not learned to except Gustave as a reality.

Raoul had viewed him as his own, here Erik saw what he had missed, not what he had gained. 

Gustave soon saw his father had almost as bad a temper as Raoul when the song didn't come easily or when the tides came in and washed his music away. Gustave almost feared of what he was capable of.

Almost.

 He was starting to form a theory, one he didn't like to entertain. Here in the dark of the Opera House, he lived where the ghost did. Here in his fathers home, he learned more about the secret tunnels than anyone. Here he was taught how to hide into shadows.

His mind returned to the metal trappings he had encountered on the way down. How did his father know so much of their workings? 

Gustave while fighting all suspicion of the kind strange angel who had undertaken him and his mother, was starting to think that Erik might even be capable of all that he had read of. Horrendous things murmured and whispered by adults as he was sent in the other room. 

-------

The post would be sent without Christine's knowledge and without a return address. Simply a rendezvous spot was placed and the letter sealed in bright red wax. 

Erik hoped Raoul would wisely pay heed to his demands.

Still, he felt regret and pain for bringing Gustave's memory to Raoul's mind so soon. He knew the pain of an unforgiving return, and while it gave closure, it certainly did not bring peace. 

The two decided it would be best to leave Christine unaware of their excursion. 

Fatigue had plagued her the last few days, steeping into her movements and speech. Erik worried, but he dared not voice any concern, it would be quickly met with scowls and a fake smile which he could not bear to face. 

Down once more they were to go. Into the past, but also a darkness which was soon to befall their future.