this is a long one. settle in, folks :)

updated 12-22-21


SEPTEMBER 1909

ERIK

Two unbelievably quick years had gone by and my life was unparalleled to the one I had led before. My architectural firm was fully up and running and providing the necessary income for me and my boy. His homeschooling was a learning process for us both, as I was not used to teaching and he was not used to the material. However, a new change was coming that both of us seemed to dread.

His first day of school.

He practically begged me not to go, asking if I could continue homeschooling him. Of course, parental authority had won me that argument. He required a proper education, and to socialize and make friends with children his age would do wonders for him. Though part of me wanted to keep him home with me, I knew that his attendance was in his best interest.

The day arrived, but it didn't seem to register with either of us. I rolled over in bed and glanced at the small clock on my bedside table, only for my eyes to go wide as I realized how late I had woken up.

"Damn!" I exclaimed as I practically leapt out of bed and knocked hard on the wall that I shared with Gustave, knowing it would wake him up.

"Gustave, get up! I overslept, which means you overslept, which means you're going to be late for school!" I yelled as I pulled on my shirtsleeves and trousers. I had never been gladder that I stuck to black suits than I was at that moment, as no thought was required to coordinate colours. I slipped on my waistcoat and jacket, then rushed out of my bedroom, but as I passed Gustave's room, I doubled back when I found him still in bed. "What are you doing? You'll be late, Gustave! Get out of bed."

The only reply was a groan, so I formulated a small plan in my head. I walked into the room, grabbed the end of his sheets and yanked the covers off of him.

"No, Papa, please. I don't want to go," he mumbled. He didn't even bother opening his eyes; he just clawed at the sheets and tried to pull them back up to his chin.

"I know you don't, but I am fresh out of sympathy for you." A wicked smirk formed across my face as I put the finishing touches on my plan. I grabbed him by the ankle and said, "If you don't get up on your own, I'm going to have to drag you to school."

"You wouldn't."

"Would you care to find out?" I asked before I gave him a hard tug that pulled him off the bed to the point where only his top half remained on the mattress. The action warranted a small shriek from him that was quickly followed by laughter.

"Let go, let go! That tickles!" he exclaimed in between laughs as he thrashed his foot back and forth in an effort to break free from my grasp. "I'm awake, I promise!"

"Good. Now get ready while I go prepare breakfast."

"Yes, Papa."

Satisfied with my accomplishment for the morning, I made my way downstairs to get breakfast ready. It was almost done when I heard Gustave trot down the stairs and into the kitchen. I turned around and was, in all honesty, quite shocked. His clothes were proper—he looked like quite the young gentleman—but his hair looked like he hadn't even touched it.

"What is that?" I stuttered, no other words presenting themselves to me.

"What do you mean?" Gustave asked with a slight frown.

"Your hair! Did you even brush it?"

"Oh, I thought I'd try a new style. Do you like it?" He kept looking to the left of me as he spoke, and I was quick to recognize the nervous gesture that completely gave away that he wasn't telling the truth.

"Please go fix it," I instructed. "I will not have my son leave my home with his hair looking like that."

"But I don't want to go back to the bathroom," he replied.

"And why is that?"

"I saw a hmph-hmp-huph-humph..." I frowned when he spoke. I could not make out his last few words as he both mumbled and lowered his volume.

"Come again? You saw what, exactly?" I asked. "You know how I feel about the mumbling, Gustave."

"I saw a spider in there!" he blurted out.

"And what would you like me to do about that?" I asked as I crossed my arms. "I will not play guessing games with you, Gustave. You are old enough to communicate your wants and needs verbally to me."

"Could you please kill it?" he requested with his eyes glued to his shoes.

"Ah, there we go!" I said, my tone almost ridiculously over-exaggerated. "A request! Now that I can work with. Come now, show me where you saw it last and I'll deal with it for you so we can both move on with our morning."

I walked to the washroom to find the little problem and Gustave followed me in, hiding behind me the entire time. "It's on the wall by the mirror," he said as he pointed to a practically invisible spot on the wall.

"Oh, Gustave, it's minuscule," I replied. "He's more afraid of you than you are of him! And you know that spiders can only do good, right? They eat all the other sorts of insects that you don't want around."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I want them in the house! They can do that outside!" he exclaimed

I gave him a nod; that, I couldn't exactly deny. "Fair point. I will take care of it. Go eat your breakfast."

The boy sped off, clearly eager to leave the room where the arachnid in question resided. I turned back to the creature and resolved that I could not end its little life. I recalled that in my darkest days, I would compare myself to the likes of the spider; a creature deemed ugly and frightening by society. I had long used them as a small source of encouragement for myself, as sad as that might have seemed to most people; if even the spider was entitled to a mate, so was I. If I was to be one of the only people in the world to view spiders in a positive light, then so be it.

I rested my hand on the wall and let the spider walk onto it before I cupped my hands together and walked to the back porch to set the little creature free. I caught sight of what I assumed was the very same spider's web glinting in the sunlight. Gustave wouldn't be pleased to see the evidence of it living near the house, but as far as he knew, the animal was dead, which made my life much easier.

"Gustave, the spider is gone," I announced as I walked back into the dining room, only to find it deserted with an empty plate abandoned on the table. I looked into the front hall and found the boy slipping his shoes on, clearly having planned to slip out the door with that mess of hair still on his head. "Gustave Daaé, do not move!"

He did indeed freeze where he was, only turning his head to look at me as a small smirk appeared on his face. With that, he made an attempt to run past me, but I managed to grab him and pull him towards me, his back against my chest.

"Papa, no!" he exclaimed through his giggles. "I like my hair how it is!"

"And I refuse to let you out in public like that!" I replied, my voice broken up my own laughter. I smoothed out his hair as best I could, running my fingers through it in an attempt to tame it. "That will do for now. Off you go."

I opened the front door and ushered him out before I stepped onto the porch with him. "Now, have fun. Pay attention in your classes. Try and talk to the other children. I know you'll be nervous, but it will be nice for you to have a few little friends."

"Papa, I've been to school before, you know."

"Yes, I know, I just- oh, just go." I gave him a light, playful shove, but he stayed in place and gave me a quick hug with his arms around my waist.

"Bye, Papa," he said before he skipped down the stairs and started his walk into the city. He seemed to have a new sense of energy to him after our playful morning; I could only hope that attitude would remain for the rest of the day.

I watched him go until he rounded a corner and I could see him no more, and only then did I make my way back into the house. When I did, though, I was greeted by a sound that had become mostly unfamiliar to me over the past two years.

Silence.

Since becoming a father, my house was hardly ever quiet; Gustave was constantly chatting with me while I worked on teaching him piano, or I was composing or mentoring him with his singing skills. My business also kept the house noisy as well, what with me taking phone calls or Gustave answering the phone first and running back and forth with messages for me.

The silence I suddenly found myself surrounded by, however, was almost uncomfortable, which was a bizarre thought. Silence had been one of the few constant factors in my life; whether I had been in the attic of my childhood home, the basement of Giovanni's home in Italy, my private quarters in the Persian palace, or the catacombs of the Opera House, it was always quiet. I had relished in it, only to loathe it all of a sudden.

I shook the discomfort away and moved up to my study to try and get some work done. Architectural commissions had been piling up on my desk recently as business began to pick up speed, but with my homeschooling Gustave, I hadn't been able to draw up many sketches for my clients, so I sat myself down at my desk and pulled out the top file before I set myself to work.

However, the silence proved to be more of an obstacle than I had initially thought, as I seemed unable to move my pencil across the paper. So, to solve my little silence problem, I walked across the room to my newly acquired phonograph and set a record on it, and a smile appeared on my face when my Angel's voice filled the room.

I remembered the day well; the day when I had stumbled across the record that Christine had recorded. I had been out to pick something out at the local market when I noticed it; I had passed the small record shop in town and froze when I saw Christine's face on one of the record sleeves. Quickly, I had walked inside and asked if more discs of hers had been recorded. Though I was disheartened to hear that it was the only one, I purchased the record and a phonograph on the spot, my original goal for the morning totally forgotten. When I returned home, I had set it to play and found myself unable to withhold my tears when I heard her start to sing. The words of the song that I had once sung in my aerie in Phantasma that had been inspired by my desperation and loneliness had rung through my mind, and I longed to have her singing live in front of me, but I took what I was given. I heard her recorded performance of Think of Me, the aria from Act 3 of Chalumeau's Hannibal—the song that had launched her opera career. The night that eventually ended in our first meeting.

In the moment, though, tears no longer sprung to my eyes. Instead, I mouthed the words to the famous aria as I sat back down at my desk to work. Only at that point in my life did I take the words to heart: Think of me fondly when we say goodbye. Remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try. There will never be a day when I won't think of you. All so true, almost too real.

My Angel's voice had long been my inspiration, and I would always have her voice and my muse with me, never to be lost again.

༻ ️༺

The hours flew by with the help of Christine's voice, and by the time I had replayed the record for the third time, the home design I had been working on was almost entirely complete. I was putting the final touches on my concept for the roof when I heard the front door slam shut; Gustave was home from school and my peaceful silence was no more. Not that I minded, although it was a pity to lose my calm, quiet workplace. I set down my pencil and moved the phonograph's needle off of the record before I made my way downstairs to greet the boy. As I approached the entrance to the sitting room, though, I was confused to see two small pairs of shoes by the front door rather than only one.

"Gustave, what—" I began as I walked into the sitting room, but I froze when I found Gustave sitting on the floor with his notebook...and a child I had never seen before sitting by his side. "Oh. Hello there."

"Hello," the boy said. He had a mess of rusty brownish-red hair on his head and wore a toothy grin with one noticeable gap right in the front of his mouth. "I'm William. Cool mask!"

I was agog...aghast, almost. The child was intrigued by the mask instead of afraid? Typically, children saw a tall man with a strange white mask and were a tad frightened, and yet there were intrigue and curiosity in the eyes of that boy. Much like Gustave when we first met.

"Th-Thank you," I finally managed to say. "Does your mother know that you're here?" The last thing I needed was to be responsible for a second child in addition to my own.

"Yes, she does! She won't be long," William replied.

"I see." I gave the boy a curt nod before I looked at my son, whose eyes were wide when he noticed that I was less than impressed. "Gustave, can I speak with you in the hall, please?"

Without hesitation, Gustave got to his feet and smiled at William before he followed me into the front hall. "Yes, Papa?" he asked.

"Would you care to provide me with an explanation as to who William is and what your plan is for the afternoon?" I prompted, keeping my voice quiet so our guest wouldn't hear us. I may not have been pleased about his sudden arrival, but I still didn't want him to feel like a problem.

"He's a friend from school," Gustave explained. "I got nervous in class today and introduced myself in French by accident. The teacher was looking at me funny...I was so embarrassed."

Even with my irritation and confusion, my heart ached to see my boy so uncomfortable. I took note of his nervous habit of falling back on his mother tongue under stress; we would work through that in time, but that was a discussion for a later moment. I needed to deal with the second child in my house first.

"But later, I was alone on the playground and William came over," he continued. "He said a few words to me in French before we started to talk. We're just going to do our English reading together before he leaves."

"And you did not think to ask if that was alright with me when you got home? Instead, you let me come downstairs and stumble across another child that I am now responsible for?" I asked.

Gustave's gaze dropped to the floor as he shuffled his feet. He almost never got in trouble with me and it was clear that he was nervous about it happening.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I just don't really have any friends here just yet, and William was so nice to me."

At that moment, I paused and took a moment to reflect on the difficult life that Gustave had been forced to cope with. A stand-in father that never treated him right, then finding out that man was not his father, only to have his mother ripped from him. Who was I to deny him a friend on top of all of that? I had sent him to school for an education and to make friends, after all; it would be hypocritical of me to make him send William home.

"Alright, it's fine. Just try not to spring surprise visits on me again. I do not mind you having your friends over, and I am very glad that William was so kind to you. I just would like to know first," I said.

"Okay, Papa. Thank you," Gustave said with a joyful smile on his face.

"Of course. Now, go do your homework. I'll get some snacks for the two of you," I replied as I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Gustave gave me a quick hug around my waist before he sped off, which left me to step into the kitchen to work on a quick plate of finger foods for the two boys. The snack of choice ended up being cheese and crackers, which I set in front of the pair, who were hardly working rather than working hard.

"Finish your work, you two. You don't need unfinished homework on your second school day, Gustave," I said as I turned to leave.

"We will! Thank you, Papa!" Gustave replied.

I gave him a wave as I walked out of the room, glad that the boys seemed to be getting along. At least Gustave had taken after his mother and had not inherited my struggles to socialize with others.

"Gustave, why does your father wear a mask?" I heard William ask. I froze in the hallway, my heart already beating faster. The discretion of a child was weak; how much would Gustave know to keep private?

"He has a...condition. He wears it because he's more comfortable with it on. He doesn't like to talk about it. Don't worry about it, okay?" Gustave replied.

A pause.

"Okay," William quickly answered.

I released a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding in. My boy was smart, and I was glad for that at the moment. I poked my head back in the room and looked at Gustave. He gave me a wink, almost as if to say, "Your secret is safe. No need to fret."

I believed him with everything I had in me.

༻ ️༺

The boys had seemingly only just finished their schoolwork when there was a knock at the door. William immediately got to his feet and came running into the front foyer with his things to start putting on his shoes.

"That's probably Mother here to get me," he said before he ran back to the other room, probably to clean up whatever he and Gustave had gotten into playing.

All the colour drained from my face. His mother was coming and I would have to answer the door. I had been aware that it would have to happen, but it hadn't set in until that moment. I cautiously walked to the door, praying for it to be anyone else but her—the postman even! But as usual, my prayers were ignored as I opened the door to find a cheery, red-haired woman on the other side. She had worn a smile at first, but that was quickly exchanged with a look of confusion. I was used to that, as it was a reaction that I received from many upon first meeting them; the mask seemed to have that effect on people.

"Hello. I'm Madeleine Edwards, William's mother," she said as she forced a smile back onto her face and extended her hand for me to shake. My body seemed to work automatically, as I shook her hand without truly realizing I was doing it and let her step into the front hall, because my mind was far too busy pondering another, more startling thought.

As soon as she had spoken, as soon as she had introduced herself to me, it all rushed back. Her face…while beautiful, I could only associate it with suffering, I could see one person alone and it was not the one standing in front of me.

I could only see my mother.

I heard her screaming at me, telling me she wished I'd never been born. I felt the glass embed itself in my arms just as when I smashed the mirror after she let me see my face. The scars on my arms burned once more.

After twenty-one years of being apart, we had been reunited only by her passing, even if I hadn't seen her body or burial. The pain I felt over her death that I had suppressed for so long rushed back like a tidal wave, but I couldn't show that. I had to be cordial, show my guest out. I couldn't let people in so fast. Gustave didn't even know about my mother and our relationship, so how could I tell the woman in front of me who happened to share her name? No, it was neither the time nor the place. It was time to brush it all under the rug and cope later, as I always had.

"I am Erik, Gustave's father. The boys are just cleaning up in the sitting room," I said, forcing a small smile of my own.

"Oh, that's alright. As long as he wasn't too much trouble for you," Madeleine replied.

"No trouble at all. They had only just finished their homework when you knocked." I must have been possessed by some form of creature since I felt the need to add to my statement: "Madeleine was my mother's name."

"Oh. How nice," she replied. With that, an awkward tension fell on us both until the blissful moment when the boys came out of the sitting room and into the front foyer.

"I'll see you out, then," I said, clapping my hands together and forcing a tight-lipped smile onto my face.

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

The four of us walked out onto the front porch, and while the boys said their goodbyes and discussed what they would do during recess at school the next day, I took that moment to speak to Madeleine once more: "Your son was just fine. I appreciate him being so kind; Gustave was very nervous about going to school."

She once again plastered a cheery smile on her face as she replied, "Thank you for having him. Next time, maybe Gustave can come to our home."

"Only if you're open to it. I don't want to throw my child on you," I said, desperate to break the ice. It seemed to have worked, as the smile on her face seemed more relaxed.

"I'm sure he's no trouble at all. On top of that, I'm quite certain that my husband wouldn't mind having a second boy around the house to rough house with. Besides, he seems like a fine young man. You and your wife are very lucky."

I thanked God for my mask at that moment as it helped me hide the twinge of sadness I felt. I had to think my response through very carefully; I simply didn't have it in me to go through the story about Christine again, nor did I know Madeleine well enough to feel comfortable telling it.

Gustave had clearly overheard her question, though, as he came over to me and took my hand while I forced a smile and made my reply: "Yes. We truly are."

༻ ️༺

A few whirlwind weeks had passed and Gustave was fully situated at school. With the help of William, he was able to recover socially from the incident with his introduction and the boys had truly developed a good friendship almost right away. It reminded me somewhat of my friendship with Nadir Moradi, my old companion from my days in Persia and at the Opera House.

My train of thought was interrupted as I was walking up to the line at the grocery store to pay for my things when my shoulder brushed up against someone else's. Normally I wouldn't have thought anything of it, as the place was busy and it wasn't uncommon for something like that to happen. When the two of us glanced back to apologize, though, I had to look twice to see if my eyes were deceiving me. No, no, it can't be. Is it? I thought as I made a full turn and the other man did the same, only for me to nearly drop my basket out of shock.

"I thought you were in Paris...?" I managed to say as Nadir himself walked closer to me.

"Paris?" he laughed, evidently just as surprised as me. "Never mind Paris, I thought you were dead!"

It wasn't the first time he'd prematurely mourned my loss. "That's fair," I replied as I smirked and shrugged my shoulders. I knew I could get away with being so nonchalant with him, given how long we had been friends.

A smile stretched across his face. "You'd think I would have learned my lesson."

"You never were the quick study, my friend."

"Just as sarcastic as ever, I see," Nadir said before he pulled me into a hug. I was still in shock that it was actually happening; it didn't feel real, and yet, there he was in front of me.

"What took you out of Paris, Daroga?" I asked, reviving his old title from our days in Persia that I had long insisted on continuing to use.

"Well, after you burned the Opera Populaire to the ground and made the world believe you dead, my options were slim. I knew I could not go back to Persia or the shah would have my head, so a quick trip across the Channel seemed to be the only option. After all, it's the only home you haven't made a mockery of me in," he replied with a sly grin, clearly thinking he had gotten in a jab at me.

"Oh, mockery is a strong word, Nadir. Is that truly all you got out of our years of companionship?"

"Well, that, along with a stiff back, being charged with multiple felonies and some migraines."

We laughed together. It felt good to laugh with him again; we always used to have the most pleasant conversations in the catacombs of the Opera, and I held the title of being one of the few people who could make him laugh. He was the only one out of my few associates who seemed to have lasted.

"What about you, Erik? What brings you to England?" Nadir inquired

"That is a long story," I began, not really wanting to go into the details in the middle of the store. "I had to get out of America; that's where I went after the Opera incident. I already had a house here, so, here I am."

"America, you say? Well, whatever made you leave? A country such as that with all its...charm?"

"I'll explain in-depth another time. It's a long story, Nadir." An idea immediately came to mind; if he really wanted to know, then that could be arranged. "Why don't we pay for these groceries and we head back to my home to catch up and eat something? Unless, of course, you had something else planned for tonight." I silently hoped he did have something planned. I recalled from our time in Paris how lonely he was; he would meet me at the river beneath the Opera and insist he had places to be so that I wouldn't take my time, but I knew, in reality, it was quite the opposite. He never got over the deaths of his wife and son, so I quietly hoped he had found another group of companions here in England. Perhaps even a partner or spouse to be with that night.

"Unfortunately, I do not. I'd very much enjoy hearing that long story, though," Nadir replied. My heart sank a little for him; clearly, we had both learned to be lonely long ago. "I'm sure this story of yours will be much more entertaining than my original plans."

And with that, we were off, back to my home with an old friend and some even older stories to tell.

༻ ️༺

The two of us had talked all the way home, and once we had arrived, I ended up going back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room to talk while I worked on dinner. A tedious way of carrying a conversation, true, but we had managed conversations in much more difficult scenarios.

"Dinner shouldn't be long, Nadir," I said as I walked back into the sitting room. When I did, though, I caught him shoving something into the breast pocket of his jacket. "What was that?"

My friend hesitated for a moment, almost as if he were contemplating whether or not to tell me what was on his mind. "A beautiful memory," he eventually replied.

I raised my eyebrow. "Very cryptic; that's usually my area of expertise, my friend, but it does not help me to understand. Would you mind elaborating?" I requested.

"Fine. But if you attempt to convince anyone that you saw this, I will deny it."

"A risk I am willing to take."

With a small sigh, Nadir dipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out the little trinket. Only when he placed it in my hand did I realize that it was a locket with a portrait of a woman inside. Her skin was on the darker side, much like Nadir's. Her black hair flowed like waves and draped over her shoulders, and she was adorned with jewelry and makeup, though it wasn't needed; her beauty spoke volumes.

"Nadir, is this...is this her?" I asked as I held the small locket carefully in my palm. "Is this your wife?"

"Yes, it's Rookheya. Who else would it be?" Nadir asked, a twinge of frustration in his voice at the simplicity of my question.

"So that was her name, was it?" I smirked, pleased with the discovery that I hadn't made even during our time together in the Persian royal court. "Why would you not want to keep this sort of thing around your home? I never saw one portrait of her in Persia."

"After she died..." Nadir's voice broke off, his never-ending grief so obviously threatening to spill over. "I didn't want to share her with anyone else. Not even in her death could I bear to let her beauty draw the attention of another man. It was nothing against you, I just...I wanted to keep my heart close to me."

I stayed quiet, unable to formulate a response. I could sympathize with Nadir more than he knew, but I couldn't tell if that was right to tell him...would it only make it worse? Was I right to-

"You don't need to hurt yourself thinking of a reply. It's been years. It's just a memento," Nadir said quietly as he stood up out of his armchair and took the locket from me.

"But it's so clearly something more than that, and I'm glad that I found out about Rookheya—you no longer have to deal with your grief alone," I said.

Nadir managed a small smile. "Thank you, old friend."

"Why don't you come sit at the dining table while I finish dinner? Enough of this running from room to room," I said as I gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

"It is quite ridiculous, isn't it?" Nadir remarked as he followed me into the dining room and sat down while I opened a cabinet to grab the dishes for dinner. "Not to change the subject, but did you hear about the American theme park that burned down this morning? Phantasma, I believe it was called."

When he said that, I seemed to lower the dishes I was holding in slow motion onto the counter and then froze in place. Phantasma...was gone? Ten years of sweat and toil to construct my empire and it was gone just like that. Honestly, I gave Gangle one job and he managed to mess it up.

"Oh, yes. I had heard of that while I was living in New York. It was on...Coney Island, was it not?" I asked as I moved the plates over to the table, trying my hardest to seem oblivious.

"What did you do?" I glanced at Nadir, who was shooting me a suspicious glare. "That's the face you make when you're trying too hard to hide something."

"What?" I scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't do anything."

He squinted his eyes at me. "Now I know there's something for sure. I can tell when you're lying, Erik. You had some sort of connection with it, didn't you?"

"I hate that you can tell," I muttered as I stared down at my shoes, suddenly sheepish after lying to him. "Guess who's Mister Y?"

"Of bloody course you are!" Nadir exclaimed. "Honestly, this is why I can't leave you alone to do anything! You either become an opera ghost or a business mogul, apparently."

"I was quite successful for a time. You have to give me that, at the very least," I pointed out.

"And I will. I just question why I didn't realize that there is only one masked man who is a true master of almost anything he sets his mind to," Nadir said. "If I had known, I might have visited. Go on a roller coaster or two."

I chuckled. "Sure you would have. It's ridiculous to think that you would have tried to escape my problematic self for as long as physically possible," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. "And you? On a roller coaster? When did you develop such a sense of humour, Daroga?"

"Around the time that you developed a sense of propriety," Nadir said as he looked around my house. "Honestly, look at this place. You're actually taking care of yourself! It seems a lot can change in ten years, Erik. I mean, for all we know, you have a child and I've killed a man."

I let a laugh slip and ran my hand through my hair. If only he knew…

"You? You are the most straight-line person I ever met in my life. I find it very hard to believe that you, of all people, are capable of murder. Almost as hard to believe as me having a child," I said, wincing at my weak attempt at a lie.

Nadir looked me dead in the eyes. "I have certainly contemplated killing you once or twice," he mumbled as he sipped his drink. "It isn't that hard to believe."

I smirked. "You've thought about killing me? Ridiculous."

"You have no idea how many times I have. I could wring your neck right now, as a matter of fact." Nadir got up from his chair and looked up at me, only making our height difference more apparent.

"If you were going to kill me, you would have done it in Paris all those years ago. And although I don't know if you can reach my neck, I'm sure you're capable of killing me somehow. But I believe a dedicated duck is just as capable. You aren't special, Daroga."

Nadir rolled his eyes and walked back to his seat. "Why am I still your friend?" he wondered aloud.

I shrugged and smiled at him. "You're the one that keeps coming back."

༻ ️༺

Nadir and I ended up so lost in conversation that I failed to notice the door opening when Gustave got home from his afternoon at William's house. One could only imagine the shock on his face when he came home to find me, not only in conversation with a person besides him, but laughing on top of that. I had never told him about Nadir so he was utterly clueless, which was why I forgave his slightly hurtful remark.

"Papa has friends?" he blurted out. I played it off and donned a semi-fake hurt expression on my face. Nadir obviously could not keep his composure, as his reaction was to burst out laughing.

Upon seeing my facial expression, Gustave looked like he regretted his comment immediately. "I'm sorry, Papa, that wasn't very nice. Hello, sir. My name is Gustave Destler," he said as he stepped closer to the table.

I was dumbfounded, and needless to say, Nadir was as well. Though I had a feeling that his shock was due to the mere appearance of the boy, mine was at the way Gustave had introduced himself: he had used my last name. For a while after he came to London with me, he had used his mother's last name and I had come to accept that her surname was the one he preferred. It made no difference to me, in all honesty, but to hear him introduce himself to someone else as a Destler filled me with more pride than I thought it would.

I snapped back to reality just in time to notice Nadir's expression change as he finally registered who Gustave was. He turned his head to face me so fast that I couldn't help but laugh.

"Did you hurt your neck making that turn?" I inquired.

"Now wait a minute," he finally managed to say. He was probably thinking back to when I had said it was preposterous for me to have a child.

I clapped my hands together to break some of the tension. "Who's ready for some dinner now that we are all together?"

I needed to get out of the situation and fast, so I took off for the kitchen to start serving the food, desperate to escape Nadir's quickfire questions.

༻ ️༺

After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room chatting. Nadir was still in a slight state of shock at seeing Gustave sitting on the couch next to me.

"So how do you and Papa know each other, Nadir?" my son asked. He had obviously been stewing on the question for a while since neither of us had thought to explain our history to him.

"Well, that is a long story," Nadir answered, managing to push his shock aside for the time being.

I couldn't help but laugh at him; not only for his comment but thinking that it would satisfy the boy. "That's almost an understatement," I said.

"I'll have to agree." He laughed with me and nodded his head before he, thankfully, continued to elaborate before Gustave could ask again: "But we met in Persia, Gustave. I was the Daroga, which is like the police chief for the shah, or king, of Persia. Your father was a magician in Russia at the time, but the shah sent me to bring him to the palace."

"Wow! Papa was a magician?" Gustave asked as he looked at me, his eyes wide with wonder.

"And not a half-bad one at that," I remarked with slight confidence in my voice. Gustave still looked to Nadir for confirmation of that, only to receive a hard eye roll in response.

"Anyhow, I found your father working as a magician and told him that the shah wished to bring him to Persia to perform. He hesitated, but eventually agreed on one condition: that we walk instead of taking a boat. It still irritates me to this day," Nadir explained, rubbing his knee. "It's also part of why I have joint problems now."

"We took a boat to get from America to Paris without a problem. What happened back then, Papa?" Gustave turned back to me once more, only with confusion plastered quite plainly on his face rather than pure curiosity.

"Let's just say that people were much more open back then with their distaste for those who were different," I explained with a sigh. "I didn't want to risk anything happening."

"We soon arrived in Persia and it didn't take long for your father to win the approval of both the shah and his entire court. Dare I say most of the kingdom as well," Nadir continued.

"You must have been incredible. I'd love to see it," Gustave said, his eyes once again filled with amazement.

Nadir and I shared a knowing glance with one another. Something that we had been reluctant to disclose to him was that most of the tricks involved death, but I couldn't deny him insight into that part of my life with the conversation we were having.

I scanned my memory and quickly recalled some simple carnival tricks that I could show him without issue. "Maybe I'll pull out my old sleight of hand tricks for you someday," I eventually replied.

The smile that spread across his face made it all worth it.

"Well, if you've known each other so long, you must have some stories to tell," Gustave said. "What adventures did you have?"

"Too many," Nadir replied as he sipped the tea that he had made for himself. "I have spent too much time with your father."

"No such thing." I waved his comment off with a smirk. "But we have plenty of stories, Gustave. For instance, I got an onyx ring from the shah's mother not long after I arrived at the palace. My magic impressed her, which is why she urged her son to bring me to Persia, I suppose. However, what really got me the ring was when she told me to take off my mask. What compelled me to obey her is still beyond me, but she was clearly pleased. That gained me the little ring I gave to your mother." I found myself subconsciously touching my left little finger where the ring once sat. I still wasn't used to feeling bare skin there instead of the cool metal band, but I was glad to know that it rested with Christine.

"That ring must have been worth a fortune," Gustave pointed out.

"Oh, indeed," Nadir said with a nod for confirmation. "That woman was intrigued by two things: the expensive and the bizarre. That ring was certainly the former."

"While I was definitely the latter. But I wore that ring up until I gave it to your mother. It only fit on my little finger, but I made do," I added.

"What did Mother say when you gave it to her?" The boy looked at me expectantly, with no knowledge of my past with Christine. I thought back to when I first gave her the ring in my failed 'proposal' while the two of us had performed Don Juan Triumphant. I couldn't tell him the true story; he thought he knew the story of the Angel of Music and I wasn't ready to tell him the truth quite yet.

"She certainly hesitated at first, but in the end...she was glad to have it," I eventually said, satisfied with the answer I had ended up giving him, and the content smile on his face at hearing a variation of how his parents met warmed my heart.

"Speaking of jewelry," Nadir piped up, "your father stole the diamond collar of the shah's Siamese cat. Oh, and on top of that he stole the cat as well!" He looked at me and faked a smile, clearly pleased with revealing one of my mistakes.

Gustave frowned at me. "Why would you steal someone else's cat, Papa?" he asked me. "Especially the king's cat."

"Well, for one, the cat liked me better, but the main reason was that Nadir's son, Reza, actually asked me to take the animal for him," I explained. I glanced at Nadir in expectation of a quick rebuttal to what could have been interpreted as an excuse, but instead, I saw his mood darken quickly. I cursed myself when I realized I had mentioned his dear son and started to scramble to recover and change the subject.

"Anyhow, the shah was not happy with me because of it, but even with his disappointment, he allowed me to build a brand-new palace for him."

Once more my child's eyes filled with wonder, sparkling as if a sky full of stars was within them. "You built a palace for the shah, Papa?! I knew you could build beautiful buildings, but I never imagined something of that size."

"That I did. It was the biggest thing I have ever designed and constructed to this day, but it was brilliant. It was filled with golden thrones, murals, treasure rooms...and secret passages." I raised my eyebrow to attempt to add even the smallest implication of mystery to my phrase.

The gesture clearly worked as Gustave appeared very intrigued. "Secret passages? Really?" he repeated.

"Indeed. The shah demanded it of me and I built them for him. But besides those, there are passages that only I know of."

"That's like something out of a novel, Papa! I can't believe you got to build all of that."

I smiled and looked over at Nadir, only for my smile to drop when I saw the confusion on his face. "What? I haven't done anything," I said.

"How many of these secret passages only known to you did you build?" Nadir asked slowly.

"Enough," I replied cautiously. "I wasn't doing anything of concern in them, so you can relax."

The accusing gaze from him continued for some time, and eventually, Gustave started to laugh at the two of us. "You two are so funny together," he said through his giggles.

Nadir gave me one final narrow glare before looking back to Gustave. "Funny to you, absolutely obnoxious to one another," he said. "But as mysterious as his construction efforts may have been, the shah was thrilled. On top of that, the Khanum, who was sort of like a queen, showered your father in gifts, although I'm not surprised. She was in love with him, after all."

Gustave gasped a little and I turned my head quickly, my brows creased. "Did you hurt your neck making that turn?" Nadir asked in a mockingly deep voice, his poor attempt at imitating my comment from earlier in the evening.

"What on earth are you going on about, Nadir?" I asked.

"You're toying with me, aren't you, Erik?" Nadir asked. "She was obsessed with you, for goodness' sake!"

"A queen loved you, Papa?!" Gustave exclaimed.

"No, no," I replied quickly. "I honestly have no idea what you're on about, Daroga. She was interested in my magic, certainly not me. The two of us had a strictly professional relationship."

Nadir scoffed, seemingly not hearing one word of the arguments I was trying my hardest to make. "Oh, poor oblivious Erik. You do realize that all of your magic shows for her were alone in her private quarters...right?"

I closed my mouth, silencing my next rebuttal to consider the statement as the frightening possibility of that being true arose. "So that's why she was always insistent on asking why I was keeping my robes and shoes on..." As the words left my mouth, I remembered that my child was a member of my audience, so I was quick to stop talking and reach forward to cover his ears. "Can we change the subject, please?"

"No Papa, let him finish!" Gustave insisted as he pulled my hands away. "You don't tell me about your adventures. So she was really in love with him, Nadir? Was she very pretty, Papa?" His gaze bounced between the two of us, clearly expecting answers to both questions.

"Well, I-I don't know! I just..." I trailed off and sank down in my chair as I felt my face start to heat up. "I don't want to discuss this."

"Leave your father to his embarrassment, Gustave," Nadir said, although I knew he was quite amused by how awkward the conversation had made me. "The Khanum was beautiful to many, and she was definitely interested in your father, but for me, my heart always has and always will belong to my-"

"So maybe she did like me!" I piped up, cutting Nadir off mid-sentence in my desperate attempt to veer the conversation away from my so-called 'romantic endeavours'. "But quite a few people didn't, including the shah's advisor."

"Oh, that man hated you with every bone in his body," Nadir said in agreement. "I've yet to see such loathing since then."

"He hated me so much that he poisoned me at his wedding."

That was the phrase that turned Gustave's head. "You were poisoned, Papa?!" he exclaimed, a twinge of worry amidst his baffled expression.

I nodded. "I was, but thankfully, Nadir took me in and nursed me back to health. Although there were moments where I feared for my life, I pulled through somehow," I replied.

"How sick were you, Papa? It must have been serious if you couldn't take care of yourself."

"I was very, very ill, Gustave," I said as I rubbed his back to reassure him and calm his obvious worry. "In fact, I was unconscious for a time. However, a quiet little request from Nadir's son to fix his music box seemed to do the trick, as I woke not long after."

Gustave nodded, but still looked confused. "But why would you be allowed to be poisoned if the shah liked you so much? Did he allow it?" he asked.

"I don't believe the shah was fully aware," Nadir replied.

"No, I don't think he knew of his vizier's plans," I confirmed. "Even still, that man had angered me with some of his actions. So, when I was asked to perform at his wedding, I used that spotlight to my advantage. I had designed an automaton skeleton, which I made to rise out of a coffin and point out the vizier specifically. I essentially condemned him to death right there and then."

"Well, that's not good either, but...is that why he poisoned you? Because you made fun of him at his wedding?" Gustave asked, clearly realizing how bizarre that motivation was.

"Essentially. He was less than pleased with me. Although, I think it might be partly because I took attention away from him with both my performance and my mask. I'll show you, hang on." I got to my feet, walked down the hall and up the stairs to retrieve the mask in question from my bedroom.

As I dug it out of a box in my closet and looked closely at it for the first time in just over thirty years, I began to question the fashion choices I had made as a younger man. I had remained somewhat...flamboyant, one could say, but the mask was by far the most over the top piece of clothing I had owned to date. Its gold embellishments shimmered in the moonlight streaming through my window and it weighed quite a bit in my hands. How I put up with it the entirety of the wedding night was still beyond me.

As the story of that night played in my mind, I slipped my day-to-day white mask off of my face and switched it out for the golden one before looking in my mirror to examine my reflection. As I gazed at the glittering version of myself looking back at me, I seemed to recall that night more vividly than I had before: the thundering applause of the wedding crowd, only for my focus to stay on the advisor's burning glare; the Khanum offering me wine and trying to drag me out to dance with her, only for me to start feeling a fierce burning in my chest a few moments later. The next few hours of cold sweats, spells and dizziness, and bleeding were all a blur before I found myself shuddering at the memory of the poison-induced nightmares I suffered; the death of my childhood admirer, Luciana, and my desperate plea to Nadir to protect my childhood dog and friend, Sasha, from her attackers. Then it faded to black; my coma.

Why did I keep this? I wondered as I switched my masks again. All it does is remind me of the hell that I've-

"Erik, did you jump out the window? You can't escape these conversations that easily!" I heard Nadir call from downstairs. "You can't leave your son waiting forever!"

"Alright, I'm coming! I didn't jump out the window, you idiot," I replied as I hurried down the stairs and into the sitting room. "Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts." I sat back down in my chair and handed the gold mask to Gustave. "I made an impression, to say the least."

"This looks like it cost you so much," Gustave said as he turned the mask over in his hands and examined its intricate details.

"Yes, well, I had a healthy salary from the shah for my performances, but it was indeed expensive. Even still, it was worth every cent to see the look on his face when I walked in," I replied.

Gustave lifted the mask and slipped the wire over his head in an attempt to try and wear it, only for it to slip right down and hang around his neck. "You wore this? It's so heavy!"

I smirked. "Well, for one, the mask is too big for you and you just don't have the structure in your face for it yet. But it was heavy, yes, although, again, the reaction made it all worth it. You'll find I can be quite stubborn."

Nadir laughed. "Don't get me started on that," he said.

We fell quiet for a moment as Gustave handed me back the mask, but I noticed the boy frown and straighten up a bit as he seemed to come to a realization.

"Nadir, are Reza and his mother waiting for you? I don't mean to sound rude, but maybe you should go home and see them. They might be awfully worried that you aren't home yet; I know I get nervous if I'm home alone without my father for too long. Maybe we can all get together so Reza and I can play while you all talk," he suggested, giving my friend a smile.

My heart felt like it sank down to the floor when I heard Gustave's proposal, and I saw Nadir's eyes darken at the mention of Reza. It was a painful subject for us both, and although I had gotten very close to the child during my time in Persia, it obviously hurt Nadir far more; I couldn't even imagine the anguish he felt. I knew Gustave didn't mean to hurt him, but I also couldn't help but picture how fun that would have been if it were possible. Something told me that Nadir loved the mental picture just as much as I did; thinking of the two boys playing and spending time together while myself, Nadir, and his wife talked on the side was a heartwarming thought. It truly would have been something out of a fantasy.

How could he have known, though? He had barely known Nadir for two hours, so it was impossible for him to have any grasp on the story of my friend's life. There was no way Gustave could have been aware that Reza was born almost forty years earlier. How could he have had any idea that Rookheya had died long before Nadir and I met? That I had been the one to lay Reza's small body in Nadir's arms? He was blissfully oblivious, but we simply couldn't avoid breaking the news to him.

"No, they aren't at home, and I'm afraid that little get-together idea of yours won't be possible, Gustave," Nadir croaked.

"But why not?" Gustave asked. "They're your family...why wouldn't we all be able to meet?"

"We can't because...because..." Nadir's voice cracked as he tried desperately to contain the sobs and outcries that I knew could escape at any moment. He looked down at his lap as tears pooled in his eyes, a few starting to roll down his cheeks as his defences crumbled by the second.

"Gustave, you must understand something," I said as I stood and walked to Nadir's side, then offered him my handkerchief and rested my hand on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "Nadir's wife, Rookheya, and Reza have both...passed away. Rookheya died before Nadir and I even met, and Reza passed on a few years after we got to know each other, but this happened many, many years before your birth. Reza was very, very ill."

I could see the confusion painted on my child's face as he looked back at me. "But you're like a doctor, Papa. Didn't you help him?" he inquired.

"Of course I did. I tried my very best, my boy, but it was beyond even me. Other doctors did not know what ailed him, for he lost his sight and his muscles were failing. He's in a better place now, mio soldatino. He's not in pain anymore," I explained.

"Wow. I hadn't realized you two have known each other for so long," Gustave said quietly.

I smirked. "Believe it or not, I was only nineteen when we met. It's been a while."

Gustave glanced from me to Nadir and I saw the sympathy in his eyes; the child was all too familiar with that sort of pain. The next thing he did, though, made me the proudest I have ever been of him.

Totally of his own accord, Gustave got to his feet, walked over to Nadir, and wrapped his arms around my friend in a tight hug. "He sounds amazing. I'm sorry if I made you sad," he whispered.

The pair sat in a silent embrace, Nadir trying to withhold his tears as best he could. When they finally pulled apart, my friend gave Gustave a weary smile.

"Don't be sorry. You were only curious. Reza was the best thing that ever happened to me; he was smart and he had plenty of questions. Just like you," he said, his smile growing when he saw Gustave give him a toothy grin.

I gave Nadir's shoulder a pat before I sat next to him on the sofa for added support while Gustave sat on the floor and leaned up against my leg. "After everything happened with my poisoning and with Reza, I was summoned back to the palace, and shortly, orders were given for my arrest. The shah feared I was a liar and a thief who planned to overthrow him. I was quite powerful in the country, after all," I related, trying to change the subject to something slightly more lighthearted.

"Had you really thought about overthrowing him, Papa?" Gustave asked. "That would have made you the shah of Persia."

"I certainly considered it once or twice."

Nadir managed a laugh, which got a small smile on my face as I realized that my efforts to cheer him up were working.

"I believe you, Erik," he said as he tucked the handkerchief into his jacket pocket. "Although the concept of a kingdom with you as its ruler frightens me more than I thought it would."

"A bit too much power for me," I admitted. "Even I can confirm that."

"I think Papa would be a good king. I could be his prince!" Gustave excitedly said before his eyes sparkled with a new thought. "I would have the best crown."

I smiled and gave his hair a quick ruffle. "A crown for the history books, indeed," I replied. Perhaps the child had inherited more than my worries and musical calling; he seemed to have my extravagant fashion sense buried within him as well.

"But finish the story, Papa! What happened after the shah ordered your arrest?" Gustave asked.

"Oh, the story, of course. Well, poor Nadir was tasked with arresting me the moment he got back from his mourning period," I said.

"And I did arrest him, but I found that I couldn't take him to the shah, for some bizarre reason," Nadir added, pulling a baffled expression. "I suppose I had grown attached to him at some point during the four years we resided together. So I let him go and told him to leave Persia. I cut his bonds and sent him off with the bag of jewels that he'd collected throughout his time in the kingdom. I took his mask and cloak and hid them in the desert, which led the shah to believe he was dead. Just like that, he was gone. And, you know, as far as I can recall, your Papa cried when he left."

"I did not. It was windy and sand was getting in my eyes. Don't feed my son lies, Nadir," I said as the three of us started to laugh together. It felt good to smile and joke with my old friend by my side again. It seemed I had missed it more than I thought I had.

༻ ️༺

We went on that way, talking and sharing stories for a long while. Nadir was fascinated by Gustave and I could tell the feeling was mutual. It surprised me to see my son so curious about my past; there had been the occasional question every so often, but never so many, never such requests for details. I couldn't help but wonder what kept him from asking, but there was no time to dwell on the past, though, for the questions just kept coming.

Shortly though, Nadir decided he had some questions of his own, and I should have seen where that was going, frankly.

"Alright then, what have you been up to since arriving in London? Surely you haven't been cooped up inside this house the whole time," he said.

Before I could even say anything, Gustave blurted out what I believed to be the first thing that popped into his head: "Papa took me to the beach the weekend before school started!"

My friend's reaction was no less than shocked, as I had expected; I had never been one to enjoy long periods spent in the sun.

"You, of all people, at the beach," Nadir scoffed amidst disbelieving laughter. "Now this is a story I need to hear."

"Well, I didn't expect to be verbally attacked, but yes we did," I replied, throwing on a mocking hurt tone.

"You realize who you're talking to, right? I thought you'd be used to verbal attacks, it's kind of our niche." We both laughed at that; it was true, to say the least. "Now get on with the story," he prompted.

"Alright, alright. So you heard Gustave; we had taken a trip to the beach…"

┏━━━»» Erik—September 1909 ««━━━┓

The things that my boy could get me to do were getting out of hand. There I was, hours away from my home, unloading beach gear, all because he convinced me it would be fun.

"Papa, hurry up!" he called out to me from the sand, even though he could no doubt see that my arms were full.

"You could give me a hand." That was the only response I could think of as a towel started to fall off my shoulder.

"Oh right!" he exclaimed as he tried to run up to me, but he was obviously not used to the way feet seem to drag and sink in the sand. It was rather amusing and I couldn't help but smile.

A few minutes later, we were finally unloaded on a picnic table. Gustave made a mad dash for the water the moment everything was out of his arms, leaving me to set it up. I couldn't be mad; he had never truly had the opportunity to let his curiosity run wild.

He was knee-deep in the water and I was about to have a drink when he called out to me: "I thought you were going to come with me!"

"Do I look dressed to come with you?" I asked him, gesturing to my dress pants and white button-down shirt.

"Please, Papa. The water is so nice."

"I'm not a swimmer, Gustave." I really wasn't. Even in my lagoon beneath the Opera, I never went in the water. Though to be fair, I did know how to swim I just didn't do it all that often.

"I don't know how to swim either," he responded with a very matter-of-fact tone. I knew he didn't possess that skill; I had read the brief interview between him and one of the vulture-like reporters from when he and Christine had first arrived on Coney Island.

"Well, be careful then. Don't go out too far!" I yelled back at him. I didn't need anything happening to him in the water.

"But I want you to swim with me!"

"Okay, okay. Give me a minute to roll up my pants and take off my socks. I'll be there in a moment," I eventually replied. Yet again; that child of mine had some sort of hold on my heart that made me do things I would never do. I really needed to grow a spine.

Either way, I bent down and began rolling up my pant leg. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe my eyes.

He was gone.

My heart stopped. Time slowed down. Where was he? I had only looked away for a moment. But I, of all people, should have known that a moment was all it took.

Like a fool, I called his name, even though I was smart enough to know that he wouldn't be able to hear me under the water. I didn't remember getting up; I just knew I was running to the water as fast as I could. The drag of the waves slowed me down for a second and I felt the strain on my legs, but it didn't matter. I needed to find him. Once I reached the point where he could get pulled under, I dove beneath the water and started my search. The water was so murky that I started to doubt whether I would see him or not, what with the sand and dirt stinging my eyes, but luckily, I felt him. Well, not exactly; I felt the rapid displacement of water from him thrashing. I followed that feeling until my arms wrapped around him, then pulled him up and he was gasping for air. He threw his arms around me once he managed to catch his breath after a wild coughing fit. He was shaking so badly; he was so scared, but I might have been just as petrified. I stood up in the water with him in my arms, and instinctively, Gustave wrapped his legs around my waist to make sure he didn't fall.

"You're alright, I've got you." I tried to reassure him, rubbing his back as we went, but he only tightened his grip. I got him out of the water and set him down on the bench of the picnic table, then quickly grabbed the closest towel and wrapped it tightly around his still shaking shoulders. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I was glued to my spot in front of him; I knew I was soaking wet myself but I hardly noticed. I just needed to hear him say something.

"I'm okay. But I'm not going back in the water," he eventually mumbled.

"Gustave, it was a one-off situation. You'll be fine to go back." I knew he was terrified, as I was for him, but he couldn't shut himself off from the water forever.

"I'm scared," he replied.

"I'll be with you this time. You won't have to go alone. Trust me, okay?"

"I want to stay here, Papa." He crossed his arms in an act of defiance, his mind seemingly made up.

I took a moment to think of a reply. "Alright. Let's take a moment to breathe and warm up a little before we wade back in. How does that sound?"

"Okay." There was a lot of hesitation behind his words, but the shaking seemed to have calmed down, so he was warming up and starting to relax at the very least.

The boy then shifted his attention to me and started to take off his towel, and the next thing I knew, it was wrapped around me.

I looked up at him, slightly confused. He never ceased to amaze me with his intense concern for others.

"Gustave, it's alright. I'm fine. You can keep the towel," I tried to explain, but he was hearing none of it; he was probably more focused on my chattering teeth as I uttered those words instead.

"You're not fine," he said matter-of-factly.

"So I'm a little cold, but I'm okay, really!" I insisted, attempting to take the towel off and put it back on him.

"Your teeth are chattering. Keep the towel." He wrapped the towel even tighter around me and I realized that I wasn't going to win, so I kept it and sat down beside him. However, with the sun beating down on us as strongly as it was, I eventually had to remove it.

"Alright, now I'm hot. I'm going to go stand in the water and try to cool down. Why don't you join me?" I offered.

"I'm going to stay back," Gustave replied.

"Alright. Feel free to join me if you'd like." I still didn't want to push him too hard; I knew he would come when he was ready. I walked over to the water and waded in ankle-deep, feeling totally ridiculous standing there with my pants rolled up and my hands on my hips. So much for not putting myself in situations and positions where others might notice me.

I had been there a little while and when I turned around to check on Gustave, I saw him, surprisingly, walking towards me.

"Changed your mind, did you?" I asked.

"The sand here is much better for making sandcastles," he stated before choosing a spot, sitting himself on the ground, and beginning his construction.

An exasperated sigh left me before I spoke again: "Gustave, please. Everything will be fine, I promise. I don't want to be in the water alone." I was quite obviously being ignored, but almost instantaneously, an idea to engage him came to me and an evil grin spread across my face as I kicked some water his way.

"Hey. What was that for?" he demanded, clearly thoroughly annoyed that I had interrupted his work.

"To entice you a little bit. Come on, splash me back." I spread out my arms, marking myself as an open target.

A cheeky smile spread across his face, and in that moment, I knew I was past the point of no return. "I'll do you one better." He stood up, walked up to the water and kicked as hard as he could. The water reached so high that I ended up having to wipe it away from my eyes.

Once I could open them again, I saw my son grinning at me, though I heard his giggles even before that. "You're on," I warned him. Immediate fear and delight washed over his face and he started running at that with me following quickly behind him.

We went on like that for what felt like five minutes, though in reality, it had probably been more like an hour. Eventually, we were both exhausted and having a snack at the picnic table, all while laughing and telling jokes. It was an amazing afternoon; one that I had certainly never expected to have, but that I wouldn't trade for anything once I had experienced, yet again, just how amazing my little boy had made my life.

┗━━━»» ««━━━┛

"Well, that must have been so fun. I'd love to see Erik being so careless. I don't know if you've noticed, Gustave, but your father is a very tightly put-together man," Nadir was all too quick to remark as I finished the story.

When there was no reply from Gustave, I looked down to see him leaning against my knee, fast asleep. "I think we finally tuckered him out. I should probably take him to bed." I tried to rouse him enough so he'd be able to walk himself upstairs, but I quickly realized that tactic was, unfortunately, not going to work.

"You're going to have to carry the boy to bed, you fool," Nadir told me, stifling laughter at my situation.

"But he's heavy," I replied with a groan.

"And your point is?"

"He should have been in bed an hour ago. Then we wouldn't be in this mess, now, would we?" I glared at my friend to make my point and blame him.

"Well, whose fault is it that he wasn't in bed? Hm?" He never failed to amuse me; there he was, acting like it was my fault even though he was the one who had given my son a reason to be awake through telling stories.

"You didn't exactly assert your opinions of opposition," I retorted.

"You are out of your league with this parenting thing, my friend. You barely know how to parent yourself, never mind a child. Do you need help?" He was still trying to keep his laughter to himself; trying and failing, I might add.

"Just to lift him initially. I'll be fine afterwards," I said, assuming he was asking about getting Gustave to bed. However, the rather unimpressed look I received made me think otherwise. "What?"

"I meant with raising the child," he clarified, pinching the bridge of his nose.

After a moment of processing, I had a rather blunt answer for him: "Ah. Yes, of course." It seemed I was more tired than I thought I was.

"Although, I can help you lift him if needed. We cannot leave him to sleep on the floor," he offered as he got up to help me.

"No, no, sit down. I can get him to bed myself, now that you've pointed out that I should do so in the first place."

He smirked at me, clearly entertained by the situation at hand. "What would you do without me, Erik?"

"I would probably be in a Persian prison," I replied.

We both let out a soft chuckle so as not to wake the boy. As I stood up with him in my arms, he did rouse a little, so I began to hum the melody of the song I sang to his mother when I revealed myself to her. He obviously recognized it, as a small smile appeared on his face and he nuzzled himself closer to my chest, tucking his face in the crook of my neck.

I was able to successfully get him into bed without him waking, and, smiling at my triumph, I returned downstairs to find Nadir preparing to leave. However, the look on his face made it apparent that I was going to be interrogated before that.

"Ask away. I know you've been withholding questions," I said.

"Please explain how this happened," he said, obviously referring to the boy.

"Well, I'm not explaining the mechanics of it. But his mother is Christine...Christine Daaé."

The only word suitable for his reaction was baffled. His expression then changed to one of confusion as he stuttered out, "You? And her? But how?!"

"Yes, me. Yes, her. And what do you mean how? Look at me," I said as I gestured to myself jokingly. What he didn't need to know, though, was that I was just as confused as him as to how it all happened.

"I am and I am still confused. So how?" he repeated, not missing the opportunity to mock me.

"Well, if anyone should know how, it's you. I'm still in a daze of sorts and don't really know what happened that night. But how...beneath a moonless sky. That's all I'll say."

Nadir's jaw dropped as if it were weighed down by rocks and I can't help but laugh at him. "Is this conversation going to continue?" I inquired.

"Well, yes. But you understand I'm shocked," he managed to say, trying desperately to make up for his impulse reaction.

"So I gathered from the distance your jaw dropped."

"You know what I mean. Even I know that you never thought this would happen," he pointed out, well aware of my long-standing anxiety and pessimism towards having children.

"No, I really didn't." I smirked slightly. My previous fears amused me at that point; I had been so afraid of the possibility of being a father to a child that I hadn't even considered all of the blessings that would come with it.

"But aren't you happy it did?" he asked. I knew he meant well, but in all honesty, I was slightly confused as to why he would ask such a question. Just because I was terrified of having children so many years ago didn't mean that I couldn't be over the moon to finally have one, but…still, his question did leave me torn as to how to answer.

"Sometimes yes and sometimes no. She was my angel, the love of my life. She gave me something I never thought I could have; a child of my own. But knowing that I am the reason this boy won't grow up with his mother...that keeps me up at night."

"I understand that. He's a beautiful young boy, Erik. He's going to be a strong young man."

"I hope so," I replied, desperate to change the topic from Christine to anything else. I clutched his shoulder and told him, "Don't be a stranger, Nadir. Otherwise, he'll ask questions."

"I won't. Besides, I can see in your eyes that you feel you are in over your head," my friend replied.

"It's not just a feeling. I know I'm in over my head." I glanced over my shoulder towards the stairs, smiling a bit knowing that my son was sound asleep in his room, then turned back to my friend. "Besides, what would I do if I didn't have my conscience with me?"

We shared a hug before he said, "I'm going to help you, Erik. Both of you. I want to help you raise that boy to be the strong, smart young man we both know he is capable of becoming. And I need to know that you have put certain...habits behind you."

He brushed my right forearm with his fingers and I knew he was alluding to my drug habit from years prior. I had been a terrible addict in my younger days; definitely a dark point in my life, and one that he, understandably, was still concerned about.

"There are lots of things I need to change in order for this boy to be happy and healthy, but he is going to turn me into a better person because of it. I'm putting it all behind me, Nadir, you needn't worry about that. The only thing you should be worried about is how much longer you can help me. I've never understood why you do that; I know I'm a lot to handle," I explained, setting my hand on his sholder to reassure him.

"I don't think you're ever going to stop needing my help. As for Gustave, I would love the chance to be a father of sorts again. Even if that means taking the title of Uncle to do it." Nadir gave me a smile. "But for now, good night, Erik," he said before he walked out the door, starting down the driveway to begin his walk home.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words barely audible as I watched my old friend go, happier than ever that I had him back in my life.