Thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing and favouriting this story, especially new readers. A lot of people have been waiting for this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it! It won't be exactly the same as it is in the musical though, particularly towards the end - more specifically, the dialogue won't reflect the lyrics exactly but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. And of course, please let me know what you think!
He will be here soon, the little vicomte. He will be brought here by my… assistants? Perhaps I should think up a proper title for them, but it hardly matters at the moment. If only they would hurry! What is keeping them so long? All is ready and I cannot wait to see his reaction. Best of all, no matter what his response is, Christine will be coming here to get him and I will see her again.
I never thought I would invite anyone here, certainly not a visitor and most certainly not my old rival's child. The Trio only come here in the course of their duties. Madame Giry and Meg are here regularly of course but that is hardly the same. In any case, I hardly recognise either of them any more. Who is that bitter, resentful old woman who only comes here to harangue me? Where is the idealistic young girl who rescued me from the gypsy fair all those years ago? And Meg seems to have a different gentleman friend every week; where is the innocent young dancer who whispered and giggled and planned midnight feasts with my Christine? Coney Island has changed us all; no doubt about that.
But enough of this! I can hear the door shut on its spring and now there are several sets of footsteps coming up those stairs. There are advantages in having excellent hearing and I stand at my desk as I hear the child asking his companions where he is going. Is he afraid, I wonder? They are urging him to hurry and the footsteps are getting closer… Yes, here they are, emerging into the darkness of my Aerie and I see each of them nod almost indiscernibly as the boy emerges behind them.
He calls them back as they begin to descend, and I wonder if he wants to flee, but he is only asking if this is where I live. Sometimes it feels that way, little vicomte… Now they are disappearing back down the staircase, leaving us alone. Good. Everything is working out perfectly, just the way I like it.
He looks around at his surroundings, glancing fearfully at everything. What is he thinking? I wonder as I walk towards him. He takes a step back when he sees me and I tell him not to be afraid. Afraid.. yes, of course he is afraid; what child wouldn't be when they are brought to such a dark place? I should have known…
Trembling, he asks me what this place is.
"This is my realm, my young friend. I call it the Aerie. This is where art and music and beauty reign. All my illusions are created here, far above the crowds and the noise below."
It is clear that he did not expect to be brought to such a place, but still, perhaps he will find something here that he likes? After inviting him to look around, I return to my corner. There are some designs that need to be finished off, but I am too occupied in watching this child and his reaction to my world. One of the first things he sees is my beloved piano. He asks me if he can play it, which surprises me.
"Does the young vicomte play?" I ask him. Well, no doubt there is a piano in the chateau, perhaps he is going to play some simple drawing room piece that he has been taught. I walk towards him, intrigued. All his fear is forgotten as he plays a simple scale... and then he begins to sing. Such a beautiful voice! How could it be otherwise, with Christine being his mother?
"Beautiful... It's all so beautiful…" he sings. I do not know this simple melody and question him about it.
He tells me that it is a song in his head... He tells me of how he often has songs in his head, just as I do! He looks so wistful, so engrossed in the music... yes, I know how he feels, having no choice but to play the notes I hear. And those eyes, all that longing inside them... Why are those eyes so familiar to me?
As we talk, it turns out we share the same love of music, and of creating it… I can feel his deep desire to create, to play his music and I confide in him, in this child, of how I can only create what is in my heart here, in this Aerie. Yes, this child is ready. He shall see everything.
I lead him from the piano. Still hesitant, still a little fearful... and yet he allows me to show him my most prized automatons, my skeleton, my skulls, suspended from the ceiling, my monkey playing the piano and other creations that began in the dark corners of my mind. And he is not afraid!
This child, Gustave, I cannot take my eyes off him. He looks at everything, things that others would fear, and calls it beautiful, just as I do. He plays the piano as I do, he hears music in his head, he wants to see the dark corners of my park... and then there are his eyes...
Fear grips my heart as I realise why I know those eyes. They are my own.
Unable to voice what I am thinking, I stand before him, gripping his shoulders. He tenses and stares at me, wide eyed, but everything rests on him.
"Gustave, how old are you?" I ask. Please, prove me wrong, this can't be true...
"Ten," he replies with a gasp, and with that one word all my certainties collapse around me, everything I once believed about myself.. No, no this isn't possible! But it is almost eleven years since Christine and I spent the night together…
"No! It's not possible! It isn't possible! And yet..."
And yet, when I watched him play the piano and heard him sing, it was me... It was like looking at myself... Except...
"It can't be... it can't…He is beautiful, too beautiful…"
I collapse to my knees in front of him. Yes, he is beautiful. Surely I could not have... I didn't think it was even physically possible… I cannot think straight as my heart pounds in my chest, hard enough to burst. He cannot be mine, he cannot… I could never have produced this lovely child!
I look at him. The poor child is terrified, and it is no wonder. I have to calm down, to breathe properly. I have to know for sure. I have to ask him questions that I have never asked anyone else. Trembling I take his hand again and lead him around the room, showing him old automatons, old designs, everything I have.
I ask him about the thoughts and feelings he has, about longings and things which both scare and excite him. I ask him if he has ever wanted to leave behind the normal world and explore the darkness. All the things I have felt, all the things that, along with my face, have separated me from the rest of humanity. Until now.
He feels the same. He too can see the beauty underneath. Both of us can. We are facing it here together. Yes, he is still bewildered by everything but that is because it is so far removed from his everyday experience. Until now he has been alone in these thoughts, but now... Now I understand everything. Why I felt so drawn to him, why I sympathised with him so much, why we have so much in common.
He is part of me.
And he can look at all this, he tells me. He is not afraid. No he is not, I can see that. And if he is my own, and if he can truly see the beauty underneath, then it means that there is someone on this earth who will look at my hideous face and love me. My own son…
"You brave, brave boy," I tell him, "You can see the beauty underneath!"
Here is the moment I have waited for my entire life. Oh, to see those eyes look on me in love...
All of heaven and earth seems to pause for the briefest moment as I remove my mask.
His eyes widen in terror and he screams.
My heart splits in two as he runs from me screaming, trying to get away from me. No! No! Oh Gustave, I thought you were ready... I thought you could look at me...
Just as I want to fling myself on the floor and weep, a shadow emerges into the room and catches Gustave. It is my Christine… and he holds on to her, sobbing about the horrible monster as she comforts him. Yes, that is all I am, is it not? I should have known… How could I be so foolish as to think the boy could love my face? Even... my own son. My own son…
Christine sends him away with Miss Fleck, who has accompanied her here and now she is walking towards me, apologising for Gustave's reaction, completely unaware of my discovery by the looks of things. Well, it looks like we have much to discuss. I did want to see her again of course, but even I could not have foreseen this confrontation.
"Did you think I wouldn't guess?" I ask and her bewildered expression angers me. "Have you something to confess? If you have, tell me immediately!" I demand, and she looks at the ground, ashamed. Now she understands…
"It is true," she begins, after a long pause, "That night, the night we shared... I conceived. I bore your child and raised him as Raoul's. But Gustave is yours, angel, and I have spent all these years hiding that fact. I had to. I was married to Raoul; he was a well-respected member of the community – until recently, at least. I have hidden the truth from Gustave too, and you have no idea how many times I wished that he knew you. But it was impossible, you must see that."
I am in shock. I have a child…
"My own flesh and blood… My child... Our child... yours and mine…"
"He is like you in so many ways, Erik. I have seen so much of you in him- his love of music, his imagination, his passions. But... I never meant for the truth to come out like this, never."
"You mean, if I had never invited you here, you would have continued to raise him as your husband's child, watch him become a vicomte and kept the truth from him?" My tone is harsh and sarcastic but I hardly care, such is my confused state of mind.
"Erik, please, I couldn't have told him. Not in the world we live in. He believes Raoul is his father and this is the way things must stay."
The room seems to be spinning. How is it that the great Mister Y has been caught off guard in this way? "I have a child. We have a child. Don't you see? This changes everything!" I exclaim. She is frightened at my words, but I continue regardless. "You and Gustave will not have to endure the vicomte's mistreatment any longer, nor will he continue to raise my child as his own. You shall both live here with me and we shall raise him together, at last. You will want for nothing, either of you. I had always intended to allow him to stay with you, but it will be different now. We will be a family, a real family, just the three of us. He is ours, Christine!"
But she looks away sadly.
"No Erik, this can't happen. I am married to Raoul, don't you understand? I married him the day after you left me alone and in all those years you never once contacted me. You have no right to do this to me." She looks at me with such anger and my heart is suddenly aching with sadness. "But... I will keep our agreement and sing for you at your concert. I will give it my all and then in the morning, we will go home." I wince as she emphasises that word. "My husband, my son and I. They are my life now, not you. And I love Raoul."
I don't believe that last sentence. She couldn't possibly love him, not now. Anyway, he is not the father of her child and has no legal rights over the boy. Surely she would not do this to me?
But she is indeed leaving, that much she is certain of. I cannot bear this. My own child cannot look at my face and my Christine will not stay with me. I can hardly bear to listen to her angry words as she chastises me for sending the Trio to lure Gustave here without her. I daresay I deserve that, now that I think about it rationally and, drawing myself up to my full height, I adopt my professional demeanour, telling her that I take such things seriously and that yes, such behaviour is unacceptable in a family attraction like Phantasma.
She is chastened somewhat, although no doubt the Trio will inform me later of the earful they received from her when they told her about where they took Gustave.
When she has left, I slump into a chair, hardly knowing what to think. I have a child... and Christine will take him away from me. And I cannot forget that look of fear and that scream, and the way he ran from me. Just as his mother once did.
There is nothing more to live for. For nearly eleven years I have thought of my Christine and now she will leave me again. My son fears and hates me.
But surely I cannot give up. I have much more to fight for now. There must be a way of winning her back, of winning them both. They are my family… Sitting around mourning and crying will not achieve this, and so I launch into one of my latest musical creations, desperately trying to think of some way of making sure my family stay with me. But the sheer hopelessness of my endeavour is pressing down on me and before long I slam down the piano lid and cry the tears I have been fighting ever since I heard that scream.