Gustave's POV

I couldn't sleep that night. Yes, I was exhausted, but all I wanted was my mother. Time ticked by slowly, each hour seeming to take a hundred years before it passed. Mostly, I lied awake staring at my mother's photo that Mister Y had placed on the night table. I missed her more than anything in the world. When the slightest relief of daylight entered my window, I rose and made my way out into Mister Y's home. It was strange, yet scary being in a place that I didn't know. He had strange paintings hanging on the walls that were painted black. Everything in his house seemed to be of the same shade. Being here was like being in a home that belonged to a vampire.

My eyes still burned from crying, and I knew there was still more crying to be done. Every moment that I thought about my mother, I began to tear up. The only thing that stopped my tears from rushing to my eyes was the fact that I was starving. The last thing I ate was a hotdog just before mother's performance.

"Mister Y?" I called out his name, approaching the stairs that led up into his room. "Mister Y, are you there?"

Erik's POV

I was sitting at my desk, when I heard my child's voice. It only took me a few moments to turn around and find him standing in my doorway. Curious of the time, I flipped open my pocket watch to realize that it was six in the morning.

"Did you sleep all right?" I asked.

My boy shook his head. Who could sleep after what had taken place just last evening? I knew he probably wouldn't be sleeping for a while.

"I'm hungry, Mister Y."

Food wasn't always on my to do list, for I hardly ate. Yes, one needed food to survive, but ever since I opened Phantasma, my usual meals consisted of a banana or two while out on my runs, and a slice of bread for dinner. I had been deprived of it my entire life, therefore, my body had become accustomed to going without it. Of course, back in Paris, Christine always tried to make me eat more…I missed it actually. But a growing child needed nourishment and plenty of it. Not that I didn't know how to cook. I knew how to cook everything from pancakes to difficult Persian dishes.

"What would you like?" I asked.

My child shrugged his shoulders, "Mama always made me chocolate pancakes."

I nodded and stood to my feet, "Very well, then." I said. "I can try to fit that in to my menu. While I'm doing that, why don't you wash up and change into something else?"

"I don't have any clean clothes."

Already this parenting thing was become more of a hassle than I expected it to be. I hurried to my wardrobe and pulled out a clean shirt.

"You'll have to wear this for now."

"It's too big," My son argued. "It will drag the ground."

"Gustave, I have to wash your clothes. Please don't argue with me."

I led the boy into the bathroom and turned on the lights.

"Everything you need is in here. Shampoo, soap, anything you could ever need to wash yourself with. Now, get cleaned up and I will start breakfast."

Gustave's POV

When Mister Y left me alone, I closed the door and undressed. It was scary being in a place that I wasn't used to being in, but this was most likely my new home and therefore, I needed to get used to it. As I stood in the shower, I wet my hair and looked up on the shelf to see the bottle of shampoo placed there. The shelf was much higher than I was, making it impossible to reach it. The tip of my finger managed to knock the bottle over, causing it to spill and land in my eyes. The moment it made contact with my face, I screamed, for it burned so badly. Mister Y must have heard my scream, for he came rushing into the bathroom.

"What?" he gasped. "What's wrong?"

I was too busy rubbing the substance out of my eyes, but it burned harder.

"I…I got shampoo in my eyes." I sobbed.

I felt Mister Y pick me up and place me on the sink.

"Stop rubbing it in," he ordered.

I sat there sobbing while Mister Y rummaged around. The next thing I felt, was a cold cloth being brushed across my face.

"Oww…" I wailed.

"Stay still."

Soon, the burning stopped, and I was able to look up at him.

"How did you manage to spill that on you?"

"The shelf is too high," I cried. "I couldn't reach it. Mother always had a shelf for me that was my size."

"Gustave, enough."

"But it's true…"

Mister Y grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around my naked body.

"Here, dry yourself off."

I did as I was told, while Mister Y reached for the shirt he had given me. He was about to place it over my head, when we began to smell something burning.

"Breakfast…" he gasped, rushing to the door. "Get dressed, Gustave and come down stairs."

When my body was dry, I slipped the clean shirt over my body and hopped down off the sink. I entered Mister Y's bedroom and looked around. His room was darker than any part of the house. The walls were plastered in some sort of black wall paper, his curtains an even darker shade. I hopped up onto his desk and looked at the documents placed there. Mister Y's life was lonely and extremely dark, making me wonder how my mother could have loved him when she was so colorful. But then again, mother always said that opposites attract…Perhaps that's what she meant.

Erik's POV

Being a father was so hard. I had to be in two places at once… Oh, I wasn't ready for this, not at all was I ready for this lifestyle. After washing the shampoo out of Gustave's eyes, I came rushing downstairs to find my pancakes burning. I cursed from beneath my breath, nearly burning my fingers as I took the frying pan off of the burner.

"I can't do this…"

"Yes, you can, Erik."

I turned to find my Christine standing behind me. Oh, what did she want now?

"Easy for you to say," I growled. "Oh, Christine, how did you care for him? I don't know what to do with the boy. He can't even get a shower without hurting himself."

"He's small, Erik," Christine said. "You need to make sure the shampoo is in his reach."

"Oh, Christine, I can't do this."

I felt her hands place themselves upon my shoulders.

"You have to be strong for him, ange… I left him to your keeping."

I sighed, "I know, angel."

"And you're doing a great job. Breakfast smells wonderful."

"Chocolate pancakes," I growled. "That's what you made him every morning."

"And is there a problem with me making him chocolate pancakes every morning?"

"Look at this disaster," I cried, showing her the frying pan. "Look at this abomination."

"You're doing great."

I groaned and turned back to the stove.

"I miss you," Tears began to run down my cheeks. "I miss you so, so much. I didn't even have you again for more than a few moments before you were taken from me."

Christine turned me around and placed her hand upon my chest.

"Erik, you have me. I will always be in here."

How was it that I could feel her hand upon my chest, feel her warmth and body against my own. Angels were not supposed to be living, breathing beings.

"Now, you should get back upstairs before Gustave begins to put everything out of order."

I gasped and hurried up the stairs to my room. How Christine had known what he was doing was beyond me, but just like she had said, I found the boy sitting at my desk and rearranging my work.

"Gustave!" I grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him away. "What do you think you're doing?"

I hadn't realized how hard I had grabbed onto his hand, for he wailed out in agony. I took a few steps back, looking down at my own hands that had just harmed the boy.

"I miss mother…" he sobbed. "I want mother!"

"Your mother is not here!" I growled. "Your mother is dead! I'm here, Gustave, I'm here!"

This had only caused the child to cry harder. What made matters worse, was when he ran from me. Oh, I was such a monster. How could I yell at him like that? The child had just lost his mother and here I was yelling at him. How I wanted to rip my hair out, how I wanted to hurt myself for hurting him.

"Gustave," I hurried down the stairs and towards the hall. "Gustave, please, I'm sorry."

I was at his bedroom door now. I reached out for the knob and began to turn it, when I realized that it was locked.

"Gustave, open the door."

"No! I hate you…I want my mother, I want my mother!"

I balled my fists and stomped my foot in anger. Yes, I could have continued being angry with him, but anger does one no good. It certainly wouldn't make the child any less angry at me.

"Gustave, please," I firmly stated. "Open the door."

"No! I hate you!"

That was all I needed to hear, for I stormed out into the kitchen and plopped down into one of my chairs.

"You're going about things the wrong way, angel."

When I turned and spotted Christine standing there again, I shot to my feet and donned my cloak.

"Just go away!" I snapped. "You're telling me what to do, and yet, you're the one who left me alone. He's your son!"

"And he is yours too, Erik. You need to learn patience."

"Why don't you return to the afterlife, where you belong?"

I didn't hear another word from her as I stormed out of my apartment. I couldn't be around the child any longer. I needed some time to think about certain things. Yes, I could have went to work in Phantasma, but I decided that it would be best to clean out Christine's hotel room. She was gone now, and sadly, the boy needed his things if he were going to be staying with me. I entered my Phantasma hotel and took the elevator up to my presidential suite. That suite was the exact room that I had lent out to Christine upon her arrival. Though, after descending from the elevator, to my surprise, the door to her room was already open.

I wasn't sure if the maids were cleaning up, but I approached the door and lightly knocked. Expecting to hear a woman's voice, I waited patiently, though, instead, it was Raoul, who came walking towards me.

"Oh, it's only you." He exhaustedly groaned. "Better now than later I guess."

"What are you doing?"

Raoul approached a nearby sofa where some suitcases were laying open.

"Packing up. It had to be done sooner or later."

I stepped inside the room and stood there with my hands behind my back.

"What have you come here for?"

"To gather up Gustave's things."

"I've already done it for you," Raoul began, pointing to two suitcases that were leaning up against the door. "I have yet to start packing up Christine's belongings. How can I?"

"I…I could help you with them." I stammered. "One should not have to go through the pain alone."

Raoul silently nodded as I approached a wardrobe that was across the room. After opening its doors, I was met with my angel's belongings. Everything from hair clips to dresses, to shoes, to jewelry. It was heartbreaking. As I touched a sleeve of her pink jacket, tears came rushing to my eyes.

"I…I don't feel right taking away your son," I said. "He and I are not getting along very well to begin with."

"In my heart, I always knew the truth. The boy looked nothing like me, and my Christine became pregnant only a few days after our marriage. I never said anything before, how could I? Instead, I simply drowned out my sorrows with a bottle of brandy. It hurt me deep inside to know that she adored you more than anything in the world. As much as it hurts to say this, monsieur, Gustave belongs with you."

One by one, I began to pull out my angel's clothes and place them into her empty suitcase.

"Where will she be buried?" I questioned.

"I'm taking her back to Paris," Raoul choked. "To be placed beside her father. She would have wanted it that way."

"And what am I to do with the boy?" I cried. "He misses his mother, hates me more than anything in the world. This world is strange to him. At least back in Paris, he can be around his relatives, be back in his own bedroom."

"Monsieur, believe it or not that boy never felt more at home here than he ever did back in Paris. He is you in every way. As far as I'm concerned, his relatives were never really his relatives at all."

"And what will you tell your parents? What will you tell everyone when you return to Paris without him?"

"I will tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts. It's about time I started doing it instead of pretending that everything is hunky-dory. My wife was in love with a demon and together, they conceived his bastard child."

Yes, the truth did hurt, but I wasn't about to turn around and strangle Raoul. He had every right to be angry at me for what I had done.

"You know, she kept it."

"Kept what?" I asked turned around to face Raoul.

When I questioned him, he approached the wardrobe and reached up on the top shelf. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but he placed something into my hand. Only, when I moved my fingers did I realize that it was a hairpiece. A fake rose with a black ribbon tied on the outside of it. The rose may have been fake, but the ribbon, I would recognize it anywhere.

"Ever since you gave her that ribbon after her first performance, she has cherished it. Even after we were married she kept it and turned it into a hairpiece. I hated that thing…I hated it more than anything in the world. Every time she wore it, my blood ran red. It was because she was thinking about you, monsieur. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of you. Sometimes, she even spoke of you…it hurt."

"I'm sorry," I went to place the hairpiece into Christine's suitcase, when Raoul stopped me.

"Keep it," he insisted. "Christine would have wanted it that way."

"And what about Gustave?" I asked. "Shouldn't he have something to remember Christine by?"

Raoul didn't say a word, only went rummaging through the wardrobe once more, bringing out Christine's brush. It was pink, pink with small strands of her hair caught in its bristles.

"He'd like that," Raoul said, placing the brush into my hand. "Now go. I must finish packing up and head to the docks."

"You're leaving?" I questioned.

He nodded, "Eight o clock."

I know that we had been through a lot over the years, but I wanted to end our relationship in a friendly matter. I held out my hand, Raoul's eyes staring up at me with such sorrow.

"You always have to make yourself out to be the better man," He scoffed. "You've always been like that."

"There is no better man in this matter." I said. "We both lost."

After a few moments, Raoul held out his hand to my own and we shook hands like well mannered gentlemen.

"I wish you the best of luck with everything," I said.

Raoul grinned, "You're going to need all the luck, monsieur. Gustave can be a handful at times."

"If you're ever in my neck of the woods again, feel free to look us up. I believe that Gustave would enjoy a visit."

Raoul shook his head, "No, afraid not. After I leave tonight, I don't plan on ever returning. There would be too many memories."

With that, I turned and left Raoul alone. The man stayed true to his word, for I never saw him again after that. I wasn't even sure what had become of him after his return home. Perhaps he found himself back in the same bottle he had always found himself in…God only knows.

When I returned to my apartment, the house was quiet and dark. I carried Gustave's belongings to his room and was glad to find that the door had been unlocked. I took a deep breath and entered, expecting to find him sobbing, but instead, he was fast asleep. I felt terrible for yelling at him, so terrible that I decided to unpack his things for him. I opened the first suitcase and began taking out each of his folded garments and placed them nearly into the nearby dresser.

"Don't touch my things!" I turned around to find Gustave grabbing his belongings and throwing them down onto his bed. "I don't need your help."

"Gustave,"

"Mother is dead!" he cried. "That's what you told me. It was cruel…"

"And I'm sorry."

I reached down into his suitcase and picked up his stuffed bear, only to have him snatch it away.

"Don't touch him, he's mine!"

"Gustave, I didn't mean what I said earlier."

Gustave sat down on the side of his bed and hugged his bear close.

"Here," I placed Christine's brush down on the night table, instantly grabbing his attention. "Mother may be gone, but you can have something to remember her by."

My child finally stopped yelling at me and picked up the brush. A small smile escaped his lips, and from that smile, I realized that everything would somehow be all right.

Please review... Decide to do an update today.