This is my first published fan fiction. Hopefully, I haven't committed any major faux pas. Mostly ALW, especially the Royal Albert Hall version with a little of Leroux thrown in. Chapter titles are taken from the Swedish hymn, Children of the Heavenly Father. If you don't know it, there is pretty good version on YouTube if you search for JDSB tryggare kan ingen vara . This is the closest I can find to what is in my head for Christine and Gustave performing it. (There are lots of big choir versions out there, too, if you'd rather.)
Chapter 1: Though He giveth or He taketh
Erik wasn't sure how that man had inserted himself into Erik's life. Erik wasn't sure he approved. However, Erik did not seem to have a choice.
Erik ran a newsstand in a quiet corner of 30th Street Station. His customers either came upon him purely by accident, lost in the giant neoclassical structure, or purposefully, drawn by his eclectic selection of reading material. The accidental customers gratefully picked up a station map, mints, chocolate, or a bottle of water. His regulars bought the obscure periodicals focused on music, architecture or science that he stocked. Students and professors from Penn, Drexel, or the Curtis Institute were grateful for good reading as they caught trains to New York City or Washington DC. As socially awkward as he and always in a hurry, they made their purchases without making conversation or even looking at him. That was just the way Erik liked it.
But then there was that man. He was always rumpled and sometimes carried a large artist's portfolio along with his black messenger bag. He usually bought the City Paper and two packs of orange tic-tacs, "for my boys," he'd say jovially. Erik never replied, he never replied to anyone if he could help it. But one day that man pulled out his cell phone and showed Erik a picture of two blonde-haired boys, arms around each other, smiling for the camera. "Aren't they great? This is Peter and this is Kurt." He leaned his arms on the counter, disturbing a pile of station maps and timetables. "I'm Gus. Gus Daae." He shoved his phone back in his pocket and extended his right hand. Erik took the solid, callused hand in his own slender one. "How do you do?" he replied, keeping his face turned slightly to the right, looking up from under his hooded sweatshirt with his left eye. Erik found the man's openness disconcerting. "Your children are beautiful."
"Thanks. They take after their mother, thank goodness," he chuckled, running his hand through thinning sandy brown hair. "I didn't catch your name."
"Erik," was the crisp reply.
Still clasping Erik's hand, Gus placed a warm hand on Erik's right arm, looking him in the eye and smiling broadly. "Erik. Great to meet you. Have a great evening." Gus slipped the paper and the candy into his messenger bag and ambled away.
Erik's face flushed hot. He busied himself straightening up the counter. What an idiot, he thought.
A few days later, Gus was back. This time, he had a violin case slung on his back. It was a good hour before the afternoon commuters would show up, much earlier than Erik had ever seen Gus in the train station. Gus caught Erik's eye. "Do you mind if I set up here? I figured you were a music person."
"Fine." Erik replied. Busking was quite allowed in the train station. Who was Erik to protest? He hoped the idiot could play decently. As much as he loved good music, he detested the bad or poorly played. He busied himself tidying up the already impeccable newsstand. He refused to be caught showing any interest in this idiot. When the idiot began to play, however, it took all of Erik's resolve not to stand, transfixed. First Gus played a simple, almost cloying tune. Erik recognized it as familiar, but couldn't quite place it. In Gus's hands, the simple melody soared through their corner of the immense marble station. That was followed by another folk tune, new to Erik, with a light pizzicato refrain. As he continued to warm up, Gus played familiar American tunes, including a rendition of Pop! Goes the Weasel when a harried mother with a stroller walked by. The toddler holding her hand plunked her little bottom down and refused to move until Gus played through the tune twice. As the station filled with tired people heading home, Gus switched to uptempo Bach and Mozart pieces. Finally, as the rush trickled to an end, he played gentle adagios. Erik was reluctant to close up shop before he stopped playing. Gus finished playing just as Erik locked the metal gate that protected the newsstand Erik turned, clicked his heels and clapped. "Bravo. You play very well."
"Thanks. I don't perform much these days. Playing is good, but what's the point if no one else gets to hear it?" Gus hesitated, "Could I...I mean would you mind if I did this again sometime? The city doesn't want us busking for money, so I can't really split the profits with you, but..."
"No need. The music is payment enough. It would be my pleasure." Erik spoke briskly, turned and was gone almost before Gus could answer with a thank you.
