Author's Note: My newest story about Erik and Christine. This story does not strictly follow any verse, but is influenced by all of them. My story takes place in the latter part of the 1800s. There will be elements of Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast, and Jane Eyre, but it is by no means a crossover. Visit my profile to read in-depth character profiles.
CHAPTER 1: Of Fine and Dying Men
The man in the carriage had illustrated very clearly that it was a great inconvenience for him to have travelled all the way to Gustave's tiny southern town. As he arrived at his friend's cottage, he wore neither concern nor apprehension upon his face that was visible to the staff, only pronounced contempt at having been dragged away from Paris. A houseman escorted the finely dressed man up to the second floor and into Gustave's room. Here the fine man blanched and dropped to a knee at the door.
He saw death had clearly marked his old friend. Gustave's once boyish face was altered into that of a deaths-head, with protruding cheekbones and sunken eyes. An emaciated skeleton had replaced the once strong body. Gray hairs peppered his black and matted mane, and his skin had taken on the colour and consistency of parchment. When the fine man entered, he thought he was witnessing death himself.
"Gustave! What's happened to you?" The fine man exclaimed before getting to his feet and rushing to the bedside.
"You noticed?" Gustave chuckled darkly. The sick man lifted his arm and placed a hand on the fine man's shoulder. "I need to ask something of you — before I pass on."
"Anything you ask, I shall concede to. Please, speak with me first?" The fine man replied, wishing to comfort his dying friend.
Gustave shook his head pathetically. "I must ask you this first. If we spend time prattling I might drift off like a leaf on the wind. This matter is most precious to me. It is loathsome to say, but if you refuse, I shall die cursing your name."
There was still clear defiance in Gustave's great, brown eyes, and the fine man could only nod for his friend to go on.
"We parted when I had decided to relinquish my bachelor ways, and since then my wife has perished. It was in childbirth that she was taken from me. But she left me with a beautiful child — Christine. You must become her guardian," the dying man paused for the fine man's reaction.
"I'm a twenty-seven year old bachelor! I can't look after a child. She will be safer if you leave her in the woods to die!" The fine man retorted.
"Bite your tongue!" Gustave shouted, then calmed after a fit of coughs and a stern look from his nurse. "I didn't choose you because I thought you would be the best guardian. I chose you because you will be able to provide the best guardian."
The fine man's exasperation stopped at this.
"I don't have time to search for a proper nanny and governess, you must do this for me. You and Christine will receive all of my worldly assets. Seventy percent going to Christine, (to be given to her on her seventeenth birthday) and thirty percent shall go to you, in order to provide for her. She is only three years old, and you must take her nanny back home with you as well. Jeanne has been paid for the entire year, and will remain until you find a proper nanny." Gustave motioned for the butler to come forward.
The butler approached the fine man, and handed him a thick ledger.
"These are all of the appropriate documents you will need in order to sign over guardianship, as well as information about my property and liquid assets. There is also a copy of my last will," Gustave peered up at the fine man with pleading eyes.
The fine man looked away toward the door, praying for an exit. He could not consent to taking over the care of a child, for the child's sake alone. He knew that he was a selfish and callous man, and those were two very poor characteristics for a guardian to possess. "Gustave, you cannot ask this of me. There must be someone else—anyone else?"
"If it isn't you, it's the orphanage. I'll be dead before I can draft other plans," Gustave began to panic and his breathing laboured dangerously. "Think, man. Put her up in your château outside of Paris, the one near Presles. You'll never have to care for her yourself, find her kind keepers and go on with your life. You can be the rogue uncle who only arrives to bring lavish gifts; it's the role you were born to play."
"How can you be so certain about signing her away to me?" The fine man whispered as he shook his head.
"Because I have typhoid! Because I'll be dead before this time tomorrow! Because I want her to be secure! Because you are a better man than you let on!" The sick man sat forward in his bed and shouted with all of his might. He collapsed as he finished his tirade, and began a deep set of coughing. Blood began to pour from his nose as he hacked his breath away.
The fine man took a stride toward the bed, but the nurse shouted for him to stand back. The nurse then went to Gustave's side and helped him to settle. She retreated as the coughs subsided.
Gustave looked silently at the fine man, and wiped the blood from his face.
The fine man unbound the ledger in his hands and laid out the papers on the desk beside him. He rifled through them until he found the guardianship forms. Before Gustave's eyes, the fine man's trembling hand drew his signature across the parchment. He rose, and brought the form before Gustave.
"You see here, I shall care for your daughter. She shall want for nothing. I promise you. Her happiness will be assured. Rest peacefully now." The fine man folded the paper and returned it to the ledger.
Gustave grinned and closed his eyes.
"Perhaps you should let him sleep now, monsieur," the nurse told the fine man.
"Yes, I shall retire to my room. If you need anything else, send for me, Gustave." The fine man swallowed painfully, and bowed to his friend. He went to leave, but turned back as the dying man spoke.
"A thousand thanks to you—Erik."
By the time the fine man awoke in the morning, Gustave Daae was dead.