Hey everyone, thanks again for the reviews. Still a few more chapters…going to end the story after Christine's funeral. Anyway let me know what you think..

Gustave's POV

The next day I left my father alone. He had come down with a terrible headache and preferred to lie in bed alone. I couldn't help but become so bored. I had to stay quiet, so even playing my violin was out of the question. I knew my father was becoming deathly ill over the loss of my mother, and it bothered me. The simple thought of becoming an orphan worried me. I didn't want to end up in an orphanage, and I didn't want to loose my father. Around lunch time, I entered the kitchen to grab something to eat. Deciding to take my father something, I filled a glass up with juice and began to walk up the steps. Once I was at his doorway, I knocked and waited for a reply. When I didn't get one, I opened the door and peeked my head in to see him lying face down on his bed. The blood colored covers were pulled up to his neck, and his arms were outstretched on his pillows. I slowly approached his bed, only to notice that his mask was placed on the nightstand.

"Father…"

After a few moments, I watched as he groaned in his sleep and lift his face up from the pillows. The sight of his bare face frightened me, but I did not scream. He opened his tired eyes, and ran his pale hand through his gray hair.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I brought you something for your headache."

I handed him the glass of juice, and watched him take a few sips out of it. He then placed it beside his mask and lied his head back down.

"Thank you."

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked.

"I feel as though I may die."

My eyes filled with tears, and I knew my father had seen it. He immediately corrected himself to ease my fears.

"Oh no, son…I didn't mean it like that. I'm just in a lot of pain right now. Between the gunshot wound from a few days ago and the headache, I just feel worn."

I nodded.

"Yes, I know."

With that, I left my father alone to rest…

Erik's POV

Ever since Christine died my soul has been ill. Simple tasks such as sleeping had become impossible. She was supposed to be my life, but I only had her for a short time. My wound was in pain, but my head was worse. As I lied there face down in the pillow, I lifted my hand to the top of my distorted skull. I had a section where the flesh was missing, exposing a part of my cranium. This part of me hurt the worse, causing me nonstop pounding and for the headache to spread. The worst part of it was that I had a funeral to plan by the end of the week. I hated the thought of doing so…for I thought that burying Christine would be putting her away for good. I knew I had to let her go, but I didn't want to. I wanted her here with me, in my arms, holding me so that my headache would go away. Christine never minded touching my skull. Her curious hands often wandered to that part of my head, feeling around the roughness of my exposed skull. I had never expected anyone to touch me, especially there. Christine had proved me wrong in so many places, and my body and soul missed her. What I wouldn't give to have her here with me at this very moment, to make love to her one last time, to kiss her one final time…to tell her I loved her one last time…but she was forever gone. I closed my eyes again, and tried to drift off to sleep. Seconds later though, I was knocked back into reality when a knock occurred at my door. I groaned loudly into my pillow, and lifted up my head.

"Yes Gustave?"

"Madam Giry has come to see you."

What was that woman doing here? What on earth did she want? And why did my son let her in. Yes Madam Giry had been my lifelong friend, but now was the worst time for her to come and visit. I knew she wasn't going to go away, not without seeing me.

"Let her in."

The door suddenly opened, and in walked Madam Giry and Gustave. I glanced at my son, and pointed to the door.

"Thank you Gustave, now run along."

"But father…"

"Leave Madam and myself alone…"

My son sighed, and walked out of the room; closing the door behind him. I lied myself on my back, and glanced at Madam Giry as she wandered around my room.

"Why have you come Madam?" I asked.

"To see if you were alright. I know what happened must be devastating for you, and the boy."

This is why she had come! She wanted to rant on about how much I probably missed Christine! I was too sick, and too short tempered for this.

"Please Madam." I began. "I have been dreadfully ill since we got off the ship yesterday. I would appreciate it if you could please leave me be."

Madam Giry sat herself down on my windowsill, and crossed her arms.

"Don't you think I miss her too Erik? hasn't it ever occurred to you that you have a ten year old son down stairs. How ignorant can you be to lie up here and sulk without a care about him."

"That's not true!" I snapped. "I am in excruciating pain. My entire body hurts terribly especially my head."

Madam Giry then walked over to me, and placed her fingers over the open area of my skull; pressing down lightly only to have me cringe.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"Of course it does. I have lied here in complete agony because of a pounding headache."

"Just tell me Erik, have you spent time with the boy?"

"Of course, just last night he slept with me."

"How is he taking Christine's passing?"

I placed my face back down into the pillow, and just wanted to fall back asleep.

"He's cried it out just as much as I have."

"Look, the real reason I came to you today is to thank you for saving me from the fire. Your lifelong debt to me has been repaid."

I shook my head at her, and smiled.

"No Madam, my life long debt shall live with me until the day I die. I didn't save you because I thought the need to owe you for saving me from the gypsies; I saved you because you are my friend. You would have done the same thing for me, this I know."

Madam Giry smiled, and tightened the covers that were hanging loosely over my bed.

"Get some rest Erik; you have been through a lot these past few days. You need to get well for the sake of your son."

When Madam Giry left, I continued to lie there in complete agony. My son, who was an angel sent from heaven, cared for me. He brought me food, medicine and company. Later that night, as I lied there trying to fall asleep, a knock occurred at my door.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Could I come in?"

Before answering, I began to hear the sound of pitter-pattering against my window. I turned my head, only to notice that it was raining. It was then that my son's question was repeated again.

"Could I come in?"

I sighed, and placed my face back down into my pillow before answering him.

"Of course…"

I heard the door moan open, and the footsteps of my son walking over to my bed. When I felt the movement of my mattress, I knew he was crawling in beside me. When I lifted my distorted face up from my pillow, I noticed that Gustave was not only lying face to face with me, but he was also wet.

"Why are you soaking wet?" I asked.

To my surprise, my son looked me right in the face without a single sneer or tremble. It was as if he had come to care so much about me, that my face didn't matter to him.

"It's raining outside." he replied softly.

"Yes, and? That doesn't explain why you're soaking wet."

"The ceiling in my room is leaking."

I hadn't thought of this…I should have remembered it from years ago. When I was a child, my mother purposely locked me in my room on stormy night just due to the fact that my ceiling leaked. She considered it punishment for refusing to wear that ungodly uncomfortable mask she made me.

"You'll sleep in here tonight, and fix the roof tomorrow."

I then placed my face back down into the pillow, only to feel Gustave's cold, tiny fingers running up my shirt, and over my disfigured back.

"What are you doing?" I asked angrily.

"Does your whole body look like your face?" he asked in a caring tone.

The only person who knew about my life, and my body was Madam Giry and Christine. Madam Giry only knew about my body, because she cleaned out my wounds on the night she saved me from the gypsies. Christine of course knew about my life after I explained it to her. She of course had known my body better than anyone after numerous nights of letting her explore. The thought of my son knowing about me, still made me uneasy.

"No." I replied. "My whole body doesn't look like my face."

I felt Gustave run his hand over a scar on my left shoulder blade.

"Then what is that?"

And then his hands moved to another.

"And that?"

"Those are scars, just like the ones I showed you on my legs."

"Were you born with them?"

"No, and I don't wish to talk about how I got them."

My son removed his hands from underneath my shirt, and shook me.

"Please father! Please tell me. Mother known, and I want to know too."

I was being cruel for refusing to tell my son such things. He wanted to know about me, and yet I was refusing to tell him. It took me the longest of moments to force myself to agree, but eventually I did.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

Once again I felt my son reach inside the back of my shirt, and touch one of the scars on my back.

"How did you get this one?" he asked.

Memories I had pushed into the back of my brain, began to play out within my aching head. I knew how I had gotten every single scar society had ever given me, and those memories haunted my soul.

"I ran away from home when I was seven years old…" I began. "And I was caught by a band of gypsies who were part of a traveling show."

"Why did you run away from home?" He asked.

"Your grandmother was a horrible person. She beat me, she kicked me, she called me names…she hated me. On my seventh birthday she said I could have anything my heart desired."

"And what did you ask for?"

Memories of that horrid day played back in my mind. I had asked for the only thing I had never received in my childhood, something that couldn't be store bought, and yet my mother refused me.

"To be kissed…"

My son's eyes filled with tears, as I said the words.

"Your mother never kissed you, or tucked you in bed?"

I shook my head.

"Where was your father?"

"I never knew him; he died long before I was born."

My son hugged me ever so tightly, and glanced up at me with tear soaked eyes.

"I'm glad mother was in your life."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because without her, you'd be alone. She filled your life with happiness, and for that I'm happy."

I lied my son down beside me, and smiled at the sight of his smile.

"And do you know what?" I asked.

"What?"

I tickled my son with both my pale hands, causing him to squeal out loud.

"I'm glad to have you too." I replied.

My son tried to fight back, but he was nothing against my strength. After giving in, I lied there beside him and slowly drifted off to sleep… As I slept, a flash white light occurred and I found myself back into what looked like the Paris opera house. Everything was just as I remembered it being ten years ago…before the fire. There was only one thing wrong… the halls were deserted. I couldn't find anyone, not even Carlotta. I then thought about Christine, and rushed around the dark halls to find her. I entered her dressing room to find it empty, but the mirror slid back with a heavy fog blowing out from it. I followed the fog into the mirror, and walked those familiar halls to get to my lair. When I came to the dark lake I once sailed upon, I hopped into my gondola, and pushed myself through the candle lit catacombs. Once I docked my boat, I jumped out of it to glance at my lair. The candles shun ever so brightly, and the hand drawn pictures of Christine plastered each stone wall. I wasn't sure where to turn next, but a far distant sound led me towards my bedchamber. It sounded ever so beautiful, like the voice of angels beckoning me to come. When I entered my bedchamber, I glanced down at my bed to see Christine lying there ever so beautifully. She looked just as she did on the night I lied her here after singing Music of the Night. Beautiful, angelic music surrounded my lair, making me want to stay standing like this forever.

It was then that my angel, dressed in all white opened her beautiful eyes. As soon as she seen me, her smile warmed my heart.

"Christine…" were the soft spoken words that escaped my lips.

She smiled, and sat up within my bed. She outreached her hand towards mine as if asking me to help her up; and I did. Her hand was ever so cold, and unreal making it seem as if I were touching the hand of a ghost. When her chest was up against mine, her hand nestled under my chin, pulling my face down to her level.

"Erik…" were the first words her sweet voice spoke.

Hearing this stopped my heart, and caused me to grasp my chest to stop the pain. Hot tears filled my golden eyes as I continued to stare at her.

"Why did you leave me my angel?" was the one and only question I could get out before I broke down in a sob.

"It was my time angel." she replied ever so lovingly.

"How am I to live without you?" I cried. "How am I to raise Gustave alone?"

Christine only smiled, and lead me by the hand.

"Are you living in my lair?" I asked.

Everything looked ever so familiar. My organ, my pictures, my swan bed, my gondola…everything was there, everything except my monkey music box.

Christine turned to face me once again, wiped away my tears.

"This my angel is my heaven."

"My lair?" I asked.

Christine nodded. "Heaven is different to every person. Heaven is the place most beautiful to someone. Your lair was the most beautiful place I had ever seen, and so this is where I shall reside."

"Christine, Gustave and I miss you ever so much."

"We shall be a family again someday." she replied softly.

"I miss you now my angel."

"And you can see me each and every time you look at Gustave. He is me, Erik. Until then my angel, I shall think of you each and every moment."

With that, Christine gently pulled my face into hers and for a few savoring moments, I felt her lips against mine. I was kissing her again…kissing her one final time. It was then that I woke up into darkness, only to realize that I was back in my own bed, and my son was lying beside me. I covered my son up, and smiled at his sleeping body. Even if seeing Christine was just a dream, she was right. She was here with me, she would always be here, for part of her was in Gustave. For the remainder of the night, I didn't dream of Christine, or anything. I was comfortable lying beside my son, the only living part of Christine that I had left….

Ok end of chapter…Check out my other Phantom story "Miracles of Madness" It's a little different than most Erik/ post POTO stories. Let me know what you think everyone! Thanks again!