Erik's POV

It was something wonderful to have my son smiling. I took him to my park and into town, his smile never fading no matter how terrible the situation was. When we returned that evening, I bathed my boy and put him to bed. The day's events had tired him out, causing him to go straight to sleep without begging for a story. Even if the child wanted one, I still would have granted him his wish. I kept his door cracked as he liked it and found comfort in the seclusion of my room, taking a seat at my desk in order to work. There were scores that needed to be written out, scores for the carousels. I didn't enjoy writing such vaudeville garbage, for there was no meaning within the music. No, my arias were what mattered, arias that would be no more.

"Composing?"

I turned when I heard a voice, only to see Christine approaching my desk.

"If you could call it that." I said, scribbling away on some parchment.

I wasn't even paying attention to Christine, for she began to rummage around the paperwork that was scattered out among my desk.

"What's this?"

I looked over to find Christine with the scores to my unfinished aria in her grasp.

"Hey," I grabbed it from her and tossed it beneath a few books. "Don't touch my things."

"You were working on an aria?" she questioned.

I paused with my pen in hand. Yes, indeed I had been. When my angel arrived in Coney Island, I began working on an aria that would express my every feeling for her. I wanted to finish it and present it to her as a gift, but ever since she died, I couldn't even stomach looking at the dreaded thing.

"I was going to burn it eventually." I stated.

"And why is that?" Christine asked. "It seemed so beautiful."

"It's unfinished."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're never going to compose again? That just because I'm gone you're going to give up writing beautiful music?"

"You were my inspiration."

"Am I still not?"

"No," I murmured. "Not when you're dead."

"Well, if that's true, what's giving you inspiration for what you're composing now?"

"Nothing," I assured. "I have no inspiration."

"But you must. Perhaps it is Gustave…"

"No," I stated. "I have no inspiration, which is why I'm writing carousel music."

"You still have inspiration, ange…" Christine assured. "I'm your inspiration. My memory is what's keeping you going. You're just too stubborn to admit it…"

"Carousel music has nothing to do with memory."

"But it does. You just don't know it yet."

"I'm still not ever writing arias again."

"I think you should. Music should be heard, especially yours. You were given a beautiful talent and it should be shared, not thrown away because of my death. It is what I would have wanted…It is what I want."

"And what about what I want?" I questioned. "What about everything I wish for?"

"You want me," Christine smiled. "And I shall live within your music."

My Christine grabbed my unfinished score and slid it in front of me.

"Finish it, ange…"

I pushed it aside, not being able to look at it.

"Perhaps another night. I should be working on Phantasma papers, not music."

"You're always caught up within your world of work, Erik. Do you ever take a break from all of that to enjoy yourself?"

"How can I?" I growled. "It keeps me busy."

"The lights of Phantasma are beautiful," my angel stated. "I never noticed them before."

I was writing on some parchment, but could see her peeking out my bedroom window.

"So, they are."

"Your world is beautiful, Erik and I'm sure Gustave will come to love it too."

When I could no longer concentrate on work, I rose from my seat and began to undress, peeling away my shirt easily so I wouldn't disturb my sunburn. I ached, as the garment slid off my shoulders, causing Christine to come to my aid.

"Angel, are you all right?"

"Yes," I cringed. "I'm just a little uncomfortable is all."

I slid my pajama shirt over my shoulders and buttoned it up as Christine stood there watching me.

"Haven't you anything else better to do?" I questioned.

"At the moment, no… Usually, I'm free during the night, free to do anything I wish."

"And yet, you'd rather stand there and watch me dress."

"Are you annoyed by my presence?"

I shook my head, "Of course not."

After pulling down the blankets of my bed, I crawled beneath them and pulled my pillow close to me. After a long, hot day of wearing my mask, it was a relief to be able to come home and lean against a pillow without the uncomfortable garment. Oh, it made my flesh so sore at times…

"I remember when you used to sing to me," Christine said, sitting herself down beside me. "Do you remember?"

"Of course," I yawned. "How could I forget?"

"Remember that one night when you were ill? Remember when I sang you to sleep?"

I smiled, for I remembered every moment of it. I had come down with a terrible cough, leaving me weak and fighting off a fever. Christine, being the darling that she was, came to my aid and sang me to sleep. Oh, how that lullaby made me feel ten times better.

"I could sing you to sleep now, Erik." Christine suggested. "I'll do it, if you want me to."

I sighed and closed my eyes, letting myself simply drift away. And as I did, I felt my angel running her fingers through my hair and heard her beautiful voice against my ears. This was heaven…I didn't want to wake, for when I did, I would be back in reality, that reality consisting of just my son and I. I wanted to be back in the world where Christine was alive and with me, I wanted her beside me again…but that day would never come.

Gustave's POV

I woke to another nightmare, my body sweating and gasping for air.

"Mister Y?" I reached for my lights, but the power was out again. A rumble of thunder occurred, causing me to wrap myself in a blanket and grab my teddy bear. I wasn't sure when the lightning would occur again, but I wasn't about to wait around and find out. Quickly, I ran out into the hall and up the stairs that led to Mister Y's bedroom.

"Mister Y!" I ran into his bedroom, only to find that he was fast asleep beneath the covers. I might have only been here a few days, but already I knew that Mister Y didn't sleep much. It seemed wrong to wake him, so therefore, I decided not to. There was enough space in his bed for me to crawl in without disturbing him. When another flash of lightning lit up Mister Y's room, I dashed to his bed and hopped in. I snuggled my body close to his own, burying my face in his pillow. With Mister Y lying beside me, I felt safe, safe enough to finally drift off to sleep.

Erik's POV

Reality seemed to good to be true, for when I woke, I felt something warm lying beside me.

"Oh, Christine," I lied there with my eyes closed, brushing my hands through her soft locks. Though, my happiness quickly came to an end when I heard the wind blowing something hitting my window. I jolted awake, noticing that I had left the window open and it was raining. Quickly, I scurried out of bed and ran to the window to close it before the floor became any wetter from the rain that was pouring outside. I cursed beneath my breath as reached for a towel to clean up the puddle that was below the window.

If there was one thing I detested about August, it was the horrible rain and thunderstorms. Most of the time, they did nothing but make a mess of my park. When I turned to head back to bed, I noticed that it was not Christine who was lying beside me, but Gustave. He was lying awake, staring at me...

"Gustave?" I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Don't be angry," he whimpered. "I was scared."

"Why would I be angry?" I asked, crawling back in bed beside him.

"I was afraid that you would be angry."

"I'm not."

When I was back beneath the blankets, the wind began to howl against my window again. My child gasped and buried his head into my shoulder.

"I don't like the wind, Mister Y."

"There are a lot of things you don't like."

"Weather scares me, Mister Y. I don't like rain and I don't like thunderstorms."

"I'm here, Gustave," I said, patting his back. "Everything will be all right. Sometimes in August, we get bad weather. Wind is something that always comes along with it."

"Could you tell me a story?" he asked.

"If that would make you feel better," I said.

"Could you tell me a story about mama?"

"What sort of story?"

"Anything, Mister Y."

I thought for a few moments and lied down beside my body, holding him close to me as the storm worsened outside.

"Well," I began, thinking about where to start. "Did I ever tell you about the time your mother surprised me with dinner?"

My child shook his head, "Uh uh…"

"Well, I had been working all day at the piano and I wasn't feeling well. In the winter I always came down with little colds. Your mother came down to my lair without me knowing and cooked me my favorite meal. I wasn't sure how she managed to whip up beef stew and grilled cheese sandwiches without me knowing, but she did…she was as quiet as a mouse."

Before I could continue, I heard my son sniffling, only to look down and notice that he was crying.

"Gustave?"

I lit a candle on my night table to shed some light on the both of us and when I saw him, my child was indeed crying.

"Gustave, what's wrong?"

"Mama used to make me that all the time when I was sick," he sobbed. "It was my favorite meal too… She always cut the crust off my sandwiches because she knew I didn't like brown crust."

I pulled my child into my chest, patting his back to stop him from crying. Of course beef stew would be my son's favorite meal as well…He was my son. Deciding not to tell Gustave any more Christine stories, I switched to a new one that didn't involve her.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the maze of mirrors I once built the Shah of Persia?"

My child shook his head. "Well, many years ago, I lived in Persia. This was before I came to Paris or Coney Island. I was hired to build anything the Shah desired."

"What is a maze of mirrors?"

Beside me, my Christine appeared, shaking her head as if warning me not to continue. Come to think of it, I didn't exactly know the reason why I wished to tell my child a story about my time in Persia. It wasn't good to tell your child about the bad you have done in the world. That maze of mirrors was what killed thousands of people in Perisa…No, I couldn't continue with this.

"A maze of mirrors," I began. "Is like the maze of mirrors in my park."

Good! That was excellent. Yes, the maze of mirrors I had built for the Shah killed people, but the one I built inside Phantasma was just for fun. It was filled with thousands of mirrors that made a person's shape change into thousands of sizes. Not only was it used for illusion, but it was also a maze.

"Mama took me through it a few days ago," Gustave began to sob again. Oh, this wasn't turning out like I had hoped it would.

"Angel, ask him about his bear," Christine said, placing her hands upon my shoulders.

His bear? I wasn't sure what my angel was talking about, but when I noticed the stuffed doll lying at my feet, I picked it up and placed it into Gustave's arms.

"Who is your small friend?"

Gustave wiped his eyes and held the bear close, "His name is Don Juan."

"Don Juan?" I chuckled.

Gustave nodded, "He was given to me when I was a baby. Mother named him."

"I have an opera called "Don Juan Triumphant," I said. "Your mother played the main roll of Amita."

"Don Juan is the only one who makes me feel better beside mother. He's been with me through everything…One time, he even came on a picnic with mother and I. When we were on the ship coming here, Don Juan made me feel better through my seasickness."

"You got seasick?"

Gustave nodded, "Yes, I didn't feel well for the first few days. Mother said it was because I wasn't used to being on a boat."

"When I first came to America, I got seasick too. Horrible, is it not?"

"Very. Mother had to stay by my side for days. I felt terrible about vomiting, but she held the chamber pot for me every time I threw up."

Suddenly, a large branch hit my window, causing Gustave to jump into my arms.

"It's all right, Gustave, it's just the wind."

I knew as long as this storm lasted, we wouldn't be getting any sleep, therefore, I lifted his body into my own and placed him down on my desk. I had an idea, one that would hopefully calm the child down. There wasn't much that I could do, but I would try my best. From off my bed, I pulled my quilt and other blankets, using pieces of furniture to built a makeshift fort. When there was enough space, I draped the fort with my quilt and crawled inside of it, lining the floor with a few pillows and remaining blankets.

"Mister Y!" my son cried. "Where are you?"

When everything was ready, I came out from hiding and lifted my son into my arms.

"What is that?"

Once he and I were inside the fort, I placed a candle in the center to light up the area.

"Did you know that in Persia, they get horrible sandstorms?" I questioned. "Sometimes the Persians would be traveling and get caught in the middle of one."

"What would they do?"

"Build a tent much like this one and stay hidden. The wind won't harm us as long as we're in here, Gustave."

"Did you ever have to sleep in one?"

I nodded, "One time, my guard, Nadir Khan and I were traveling the desert. He and I hadn't much luggage on us, because the fool always liked to travel light. When a nasty storm blew in, he and I had to dig ourselves a hole and cover our heads with the only blanket we brought along. For days, we sat there waiting the storm out…"

"And what did you do when it was over?"

"I put sand in Nadir's canteen!"

My son giggled…Oh, finally, a giggle and not a sob.

"You're funny, Mister Y."

My son yawned and laid down beneath the blankets. I knew he finally felt safe, safe enough to rest. Yes, the wind was still whipping around, but he was finally calming down.

"Mister Y?"

I laid down beside him and brushed my hand through his locks.

"Yes, Gustave?"

"Did mother leave me because she wanted to?"

I paused, thinking about what to tell my child. From behind me, I felt Christine's hands brace my shoulders, her soft voice whispering in my ear.

"Tell Gustave that I would have never left on my own accord, and that she wishes she could be here beside him."

"Gustave," I began, "Your mother loves you so much. She would have never left if she didn't have to. Your mother wishes that she could be here…really, she does."

"What do you think she would be doing right now if she were here?"

Christine giggled, "Tell him that I would be laughing at your silly jokes."

I smiled, "Most likely sitting here beside us, laughing at my horrible jokes."

"I like your jokes, Mister Y…"

Christine smiled, "So do I, Erik."

"Will you tell me more about Persia, Mister Y?" my child yawned.

"Of course, but perhaps another night. It's extremely late and we should sleep before the sun rises. I'm sure there will be a lot to clean up in the morning. Wind is Phantasma's worst enemy."

"I'll help you clean up, Mister Y," my son exhaustedly replied.

When Gustave closed his eyes, I lied there watching him sleep, my eyes growing heavy again.

"You, Erik, are a wonderful father."

Christine was lying beside me, brushing her hand against my distorted cheek. Oh, how I missed such a sensation.

"I'm only a good father because you made me into one."

"I don't believe it's all true," Christine stated. "Though, you nearly slipped with your maze of mirror story."

"What can I say? I was trying to make the boy feel better."

"Nice save though, my angel…"

"Christine?" I lied there with my eyes closed, feeling her hand still brushing against my cheek.

"Yes, angel?"

"Let me kiss you…"

There was a long pause of silence before I opened my eyes to see her staring at me with a look of worriment displayed across her beautiful face.

"Erik, you know what I told you, you know the rules."

"Just this once…Don't you yearn for it as well?"

"I do," she whimpered. "But I can't. It would break my heart, it would break your heart."

I reached out and touched her own cheek, its warmth lingering around my palm.

"You can feel me, and yet, it seems so real…"

But in an instant, Christine's form disappeared, leaving nothing but the cold night air caressing my palm.

"You must remember that it's not…" Were the last words I heard from her that night before the candle magically went out, leaving me in darkness once again.

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