Daytime had long passed, the moonlight cascading across the floorboards through an open window, illuminating the figure of Erik as he worked, scribbling on a piece of parchment. Besides the occasional sound when he shifted in his seat, the flat was silent. Gustave was asleep in the next room, and nobody was up at such a late hour. Or early, he noted, glancing up at the grandfather clock that stood, regally in the far corner. It was barely three in the morning, yet it felt like only moments ago had the clock chimed, announcing that it had been midnight.

For once, Erik felt tired. Caring for Christine's son constantly had taken a toll on him, especially when he was only used to looking out for himself. He was unfamiliar with regularly buying new groceries, yet a part of him enjoyed indulging the young child.

Although only three days had gone by since he had stolen Gustave away, it was visible the boy missed his mother. Why, Erik pondered as he set his pen down. This is probably the longest he's ever been away from her!

He tried to ignore the guilt as it bit through him. What he was doing was wrong, and he knew it. After all, Gustave wasn't to blame for his mother's misdoings, so quite frankly, it made little sense to punish the young boy for them.

"But I am a man of my word," he muttered, his voice low. "I gave Christine her options, this is what she chose."

He sighed, standing up and sliding the chair back into the desk as quietly as he could, still afraid of waking Gustave. Erik made his way towards the door, rubbing his eyes.

Yet, before he could excuse himself, the entrance swung open with a bang, startling Erik. In the hall, stood a very, very angry Nadir.

"Daroga!" he managed a weary smile. The Persian scowled in response, forcing his way through and into his office. "Impeccable manners as always, I see," he grimaced. "How did you even get in?"

His friend finally responded, swiveling and held up a key, his eyes flashing. "You gave this to me in case of an emergency, remember? I daresay this is an emergency!"

"What in the name of the Gods are you talking about? I am perfectly fine."

Nadir's face flushed the color of dark crimson, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Do you really believe me that stupid, Erik?" he replied, his voice rising. ""You think I wouldn't hear that the infamous Mr. Y had invited the de Chagny's to Coney Island? And then I come here and find you have her son in your house!"

Erik growled. "So that's why you're here, then. To lecture me!"

"Erik, I told you to stay away. She left you, remember?" Nadir gestured around, wildly. "I know it's difficult to digest, but you don't need her, or the child. Not to mention, this is quite illegal."

They stared at one another for a long moment, tension thick in the air. Erik narrowed his eyes. "Et toi, Daroga. I think it might be hard for you to digest the fact that I do not need you, either!

"You act as if you are my conscience, and that is where you are very incorrect, my friend. I have gone without you for ten years, and I can go without you for ten more!"

Nadir was about to respond when he glanced down at the doorway, his face paling quickly.

"E-Erik!" he hissed.

"What?" Erik growled, swinging around, still alight with anger. He took a few deep breaths as he met the frightened eyes of Gustave. Filled with remorse, he knelt down to the young boy's level. The young vicomte was shaking as he took in Erik with wide, amber eyes. "Gustave?" he murmured his name, quietly. Nadir stared at both of them with unrestrained shock.

"I-I heard you yelling with the stranger and it woke me up and I was scared something happened to you so I came to i-investigate and you looked so mad!" he choked out the sentence, a long string of run-on words. Erik placed his hands on the young child's shoulders, reassuringly. "Everything's alright, Gustave. An old friend of mine came to visit, and we just had a minor disagreement," he glared back at Nadir, who had resumed color and was still staring at Gustave, who shied away from the unwanted attention.

"Oh…" he gulped. "I heard him talking about Mother, though. He said that she left you," the boy paused, tilting his head. "Did you two know each other before? Mother has never mentioned you."

Never? Erik felt hurt, although he didn't know why. He had let her go, so why would she have any reason to mention him again? In my exact words, I had said 'leave me now, never to tell…'

Straightening, he sighed, running a hand through his wig. "Yes, your mother and I have a long history."

He paused, shaking his head.

"And she didn't leave me, it was the other way around. I let her go."

XXxxXX

By dawn the threesome had settled in the parlor, where Erik and Gustave sat on one of the loveseats, and Nadir on the other. The Persian examined both of them from his spot on the chair, leaning back. "Uncanny," he whispered. Gustave gave the older man a curious look, while Erik just seemed exasperated. "What is 'uncanny?'" he growled. "The only thing I find uncanny is the fact that you are still here."

Gustave let out a little giggle, which earned a slight grin in response from Erik, however fleetingly. Nadir sighed. "Fine, I'll take my leave for now, but I'll be back." Standing, he paused for a moment to glance at the other two. "Also, Erik?"

"What?"

"Please think of Christine. I know you, and I know that this façade won't stay up forever." With that, he left. Erik frowned, standing and walking over to close the door. Gustave was close behind him, and he could sense that the boy had questions, and lots of them.

"So, uh, Monsieur?" he began, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Erik sighed. "Please, Gustave, call me Erik. There's no need for such formalities."

"Oh, okay, Erik," he took a few steps closer. "Last night you said that you let Mother go. Can you tell me more? She doesn't tell me many stories about what she was like before she married Father."

Why am I not surprised? Erik sighed, nodded and motioned for Gustave to take a seat. The young boy obeyed, waiting patiently. Erik took a seat across from him, where Nadir had previously sat. "So," he began. "Has Chri- your Mother told you about the Opera Populaire before?"

Gustave furrowed his eyebrows, thinking deeply. "I think so. That was the Opera-house where Mother sang at, right?"

Erik nodded, and Gustave's eyes lit up. "Mother told me about it! There was also a ghost there, who knocked down the chandelier, I read it in a newspaper, once. It sounds cool."

Folding his hands together, Erik watched the young boy curiously. 'Cool' wasn't precisely the word he would have used to describe the event, but he was intrigued nonetheless."Really now? What about a so-called Opera Ghost do you find so intriguing?"

Gustave shrugged. "I don't know. That's really all I was told or found out, anyway. Besides the fact that Mother was abducted by him!" The boy's grin widened. Again, his description came to mind.

Erik flinched, but Gustave didn't notice. "Well, yes, that part is true," he replied after a moment. "They never caught the man, either. That is, that's all I've heard." The last part was added a moment after.

"Really? Woah. In the paper that I read, Father had said that he attacked the ghost and that it had escaped while he was preoccupied with mother. Every time I bring it up, he brags about how he 'beat the beast.'"

"What‽" Erik choked out, standing up with a crash. The coffee table before them rocked precariously as the masked man nearly knocked it over. "He said that?" Fists were once again clenched at his side as he paced the room. Gustave gulped, confused. "Yeah. Why are you mad?"

Erik growled immediately. "Because it's a lie, little Gustave. That, that fop didn't beat me, I let him go!"

He caught his mistake immediately, stopping in his tracks to stare at Gustave, who looked equally shocked.

Then, in a flash, Erik had seemingly disappeared into thin air. Gustave gulped, wringing his hands in his lap. "M-Monsieur Erik?" he called out. There was no response.

XXxxXX

Erik let out a groan, falling onto the settee. Behind him, Nadir huffed. "I would ask you how you found where I was staying, but I think we have more pressing matters in our hands." The Persian leaned forward. "Where is Gustave? Why are you here?"

Erik gave him a withering look, taking off his mask and setting it down on the end table to his left. He rubbed his face, exhaling slowly. "I'm here because Gustave knows."

"Knows?" Nadir echoed. "Knows what?"

"That I was the Phantom! It was a slip of the tongue, he was telling me what he knew of the entire disaster," he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated as he said this, "and apparently de Changy had told him that I was beaten, as opposed to what actually happened."

"So you panicked, and left the boy alone, and most likely terrified." he turned, massaging the bridge of his nose with a hand. "Ridiculous. You're going to lose him one of these days, Erik. After all, he's only a child. I doubt he understood what you meant when you said whatever you said."

The masked man shook his head. "I probably already have, Nadir. I probably already have."

XXxxXX

One thing Erik had failed to do before vanishing, was lock the doors, Gustave realized as he quietly opened the front entrance. Before him stood a long street, people milling about as they explored Coney Island, and all the sights. It was much colder than it had been the last time Gustave had been outside, he realized with a shiver. The wind nipped at his ears and nose as he closed the door and ventured out. A few people gave him odd looks as he passed, but he paid no heed. Maybe I can find Mother, he thought as he scanned the nearby buildings, recognizing none.

Mentally, he kicked himself. Why had he not paid more attention when he and mother had gone to their hotel room? He couldn't remember what the place they were staying was named, let alone what it looked like. Wringing his hands nervously, he glanced around. Perhaps he could find someone who could help him. If Mother was called all the way from Paris to sing, then she had to be famous, right?

With a sudden rush of bravery, Gustave crept forward, before tugging on the long skirt of a kind-looking woman with two young children in tow. "Hello?" he asked, eyes wide.

The woman looked down at him. "Hello," she tilted her head. "What's your name?"

"Gustave, and I was wondering if you knew where my mama, Christine de Chagny, was staying?"

The woman gave him a soft smile, reminding him painfully of his Mother. With that, a wave of homesickness washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to find his mother, and have her welcome him into her soft, safe arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid not." her voice was kind, but did nothing for his worrying. Trying his hardest not to cry, he nodded and thanked her.

"Are you lost?" she asked after a moment. Gustave paused, then shook his head. "N-no.

"I think I can find my way."

Soon the woman had to leave, bidding him goodbye and taking her children back to presumably the place they were staying. He watched, finally allowing himself to cry a little bit. Running as to not be seen, he slumped down beside two trash cans, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees, he began to sob softly.
A moment later he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and looked up hopefully. "Mother?"

He could envision her warm brown orbs for a moment, the soft way she grinned at him. He held his breath hopefully.

Instead, he met the bright yellow eyes of Erik. "Afraid not, little Vicomte." The older man reached out, wiping his tears away. "Why are you crying?" his voice was soft, much quieter than the yelling he had done earlier.

Once Erik had returned to the flat to find the young boy gone, he panicked, searching frantically before seeing the child race off into the dark alley between two of the buildings. His heart cracked a little to see Gustave so distraught, pulling him into a hug. The boy buried his face into his cloak. "I miss Mother," he whimpered, almost too muffled to hear.

"I know," Erik sighed. Followed by, even quieter,

"So do I."

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