A/N: This takes place roughly around 5 months after the end of Love Never Dies (Orignal where Raoul actually left at the end). No sadly this is not a Raoul/Erik phanfic, but it will focus on what they must to do to successfully raise Gustave. Enjoy! Please review! ^^

The Vicomte de Chagny sat loathsomely in his office swirling around his usual glass of scotch. He took a large swig and set the glass down on a nearby table. Slowly and tiredly he ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the sudden itch. Raoul banged his head against the back of his chair and exhaled deeply. It was late at night for a broke man whose only hobby was drinking. Just before he started to doze off from the excessive booze, a knock on his door echoed through the old and small town house. He growled raising from his seat and scooted his way down the empty hallway.

"Hello," A deep and soothing velvet voice slipped through the door crack. "It would be lovely if you could open up the door."

Raoul, completely puzzled as to who would visit the Vicomte stripped of his wealth, opened the door to reveal a face seen too soon ago. "Why are you here?"

"I am simply here to discuss a few things," The Phantom raised his uncovered eyebrow. "Plus Gustave needed to get his old toys. Apparently he was very attached to them." He moved over to the side and wrapped his hand around Gustave's small shoulder. "I am assuming you still have some of his old stuff, correct?"

The Vicomte nodded his head slowly. "In the extra bedroom."

"Good, we did come all the way to Paris," His hand patted Gustave on the back softly. "It's okay to get your things. Go on ahead."

The little boy was uneasy to pass by his father. The same father who left him there with a man he barely knew over a bet, he later found out in an unpleasant way. Gustave gripped onto the Phantom's coat and only let go when he got a little push. His big eyes stared up at Raoul unsure of what would happen and what had happened. Raoul's red-shot eyes glanced down at his son and his body moved to let him through. Gustave then ran up the stairs, too afraid to say a word.

"Even I know not to be that harsh to a child," The Phantom looked at the Vicomte in shock for being so deadly silent. "Especially my own son."

"He's not my son, but yours," Raoul scoffed and let the man in. "Why are you two here anyways? Where is Christine?"

The Phantom's eyes gleamed a bit with small tears as he glared down. "She passed. I didn't know you moved your address to here, so you didn't get my letters."

He grabbed his head and fell down on a nearby sofa. Despite the recent events in Coney Island, the Vicomte loved Christine and often couldn't sleep because her presence was missing. As the Phantom explained what happened the night Christine sang, Raoul's heart dropped and shattered into thousands of pieces. His love was gone forever, and had not truly loved him. Trying not to pry too much on the details of her last moments, the Phantom changed the subject to her funeral. It was a lovely procession held in New York with as many people as they could fit. The only regret was that the Vicomte was not there.

"You held that without me?!"

"There was no way to reach you," The Phantom's voice was calm in return. "As I told you earlier, I tried to contact you."

"But I am- was her husband! You were just her pitiful lover!" His voice was loud and hoarse.

"I loved her just as much or more as you did," The once calm voice had turned into a snarl. His temper had caused him to jump out of his chair and into Raoul's face. "What have you been drinking all day?" His nose wrinkled from the strong scent of alcohol on Raoul's breath.

"Scotch."

"Of course..." He slowly sank back into his seat.

The growing silence engulfed the two men. Drunken Raoul lay back on the couch rubbing his head in anger and disbelief. It had only been a mere half an hour since the visit started, but the whole ordeal had put some wear on his energy. However, the Phantom was still quite energetic and was working on calming down. He still had a few more matters to discuss, but would prefer to talk with a sober Raoul if that would ever happen. Something told him that his host was not ready to engage in more conversation for a while, due to that fact that a lot of information was given to him to absorb.

"Erik," Gustave had walked into the small living room holding up a toy car.

"Erik?" Raoul lifted himself up.

"Gustave is a bit uncomfortable with calling me 'Father' for the meantime, so I gave him my name," The Phantom, or Erik, said. "I thought it would be rather odd for him to call me 'Phantom', 'Opera Ghost', 'Angel' or any of my other titles." His masked face turned towards Gustave with a smile. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering when we would be leaving," He shifted in his place. "Not to be rude, but most of my things are gone and it gets rather boring in a room all alone with a couple toy cars."

"We'll depart soon but I still have one more thing to talk about with your other father," Erik rubbed Gustave's head. "Go back upstairs and find a bag or trunk to put your remaining toys in."

"Okay," The boy nodded his head and walked away, looking uneasy.

"You're rather gentle with him," Raoul muttered.

"I cannot stand his face when I yell at him," He laughed. "It breaks my heart, so since he's been living with me I have tried to learn to control my temper. Also, he is my son, why would I not be as gentle as I am?"

"Well, because you're the Phantom. You know, scary and murderous."

"That's all behind me," Erik sighed. "Hopefully..."

Raoul leaned further away from Erik after the soft "Hopefully". It all seemed so unreal. First that the Vicomte's wife loving the Phantom for all this time, then her death, and now having the Phantom be such a changed man. Everything was beyond different and unusual. The same man who had tried to kill Raoul roughly eleven years ago was now in his home having a chat. Not only that, but was raising his son. A lot happened in that past decade making Raoul poor and alcoholic and Erik calmer and sweeter.

"Raoul," This was the first and only time Erik had mentioned his name all day. "I would like to bring up the topic of who would be raising Gustave. I was thinking about him living with me mostly, but could visit you occasionally given your state. There is also the problem of where we live."

"Hold on," He rubbed his forehead. "You want me to help raise him? I had already raised him for ten long years, and I have nothing else left to give the boy. I love him, truly, but every time I look at him I see..."

"Me," Erik finished. "I understand, but you need to be there for the rest of his life. You are-" He took a pause. "-a mess... But you still are one of his fathers. Perhaps you could spend the holiday season with us?"

"This is all nonsense!" Raoul thundered. "You won him in that bet made not too long ago. I have nothing to give, nothing."

"My son is not a prize."

"You sure didn't think so at the time."

"Listen here little Vicomte!" Erik hissed and pulled the man off his sofa. "I wish to speak to you when you are in your right mind and not a drunken imbecile!" He threw him back down and stormed to the stairs. "Gustave! We're leaving!"

Gustave ran down the stairs with a fair sized tote bag. Erik took the bag and helped him get his coat on while putting on his own. The boy slowly walked away from his current guardian and over to Raoul. The Vicomte looked down at his son, trying to not seem as angry as he was. Carefully, acting as if his father was a delicate glass statue, Gustave wrapped his arms around Raoul encasing him in an awkward but warm hug.

"I'll see you again, Papa," Gustave pulled away from the embrace.

Erik held the door open for his son. "Try not to drink in the meantime, it will do wonders for the way you think," He snapped and slammed the door.