CHAPTER 2 August 1905
The grey light of a summer morning barely cut the haze that night had left behind. Had the funeral been in France, a long procession of mourners would have filed out from the chapel on the De Chagny grounds. Those attending would have been the highest nobility of Paris, and the well-dressed nouveau riche of the upper class. People Christine, the Vicomtess De Chagny, had very rarely if ever associated herself with. Even her husband's siblings had shunned and avoided their brother's low born wife over the years.
At first the snubbing had made the Vicomtess shed silent tears at night into her husband's shoulder, but as the years progressed she learned to harden her heart against them. Christine even came to see her segregation as a mild blessing and she settled into a comfortable routine of caring for her son. Even as a cold resentment settled over her marriage, she still was comforted in her role as a mother.
The Vicomte had then decided that Christine's body would not return to the continent of her birth and his family mausoleum for burial. Instead she would be laid to rest in NY to be near to her son. Raoul had failed his wife in so many ways, he thought that this one courtesy was the least he could do. Perhaps he would erect a small memorial in her honor for the sake of appearances. He was sure there would be questions upon his return. Not many men in his position left with a family, and then returned without one. The papers would report enough of the story that he shouldn't have to elaborate much more. His heart was already too heavy to bear the burden of explaining these sordid events.
Raoul had never liked the smell of freshly turned earth, but after this day he'd always associate this one last sweet memory with it. The priest had already read the final lines of his blessing, and after having given final words to the widowed husband and motherless son he retreated back to the rectory. Silently two men, two women and a boy were left to watch the grave was be filled. Two wreaths of roses were placed by the marble headstone, one of crimson and the other of white, representing the sentiments of their donors.
Everyone had shed tears at this final parting, but as it all came to a close only the soft whimpers of a young boy could be heard. Gustave stood between the two towering figures of men on each side of him. He turned to neither for comfort or reassurance because he didn't know to whom he could turn. So much had happened and been revealed that the boy was beyond confused. To his left was the man to whom he'd looked to for all his life, but still somehow missing the mark of attention, affection, and love. To his right stood a man he'd only met days before. He was both frightening and enticing, mysterious, menacing and miraculous, and even before his mother had revealed that this was his real father Gustave had found a kinship with him that went beyond anything he'd ever felt or known. The revelation had been bitter sweet, as in one fell swoop his beloved mother had been taken away and this strange man had been dropped into his life.
"What happens now?" asked the child, not directly addressing either man. It was his new father that answered with a sad voice, not turning to see the boy's reddened eyes or reveal his own watery ones.
"Go to the carriage Gustave and I'll join you shortly. The Vicomte and I have things to discuss." The boy hesitated only a moment before complying. With heavy steps he headed toward a very tall gangly man and a very small dwarfish woman who waited obediently for their master. When the child had left ear shot the younger of the two men spoke.
"Legally he is mine, and I have raised him." stated Raoul flatly.
"I hope you don't propose to think you'll be leaving here with my s…" accused Erik.
"I KNOW, Uh, I understand that although there is no way for us to be sure it seems obvious that you and the boy share a certain kinship." Erik gave a mocking chuckle, but Raoul ignored him as he tried to get through this difficult encounter. "BUT, legally he still belongs to me." Erik's hackles began to rise at the implication. "So I suggest that although he lives here with you, that he retain my name and the benefits of my title. Upon my death all that I have left will still pass on to him as I have no intention of marrying again. I know there are things you can give him that I cannot. I require only that I be allowed to remain in contact with him, and perhaps see him if and when I return to the states. It might make the transition easier for him to have some connection to the familiar."
A long silence ensued as Erik considered the Vicomte's words. His first instinct was to arrange for the wretched man's disappearance. In a city like NY such little favors were easy to contrive, but for the sake of the boy he knew was his son Erik had to think more like a parent and less like a phantom. Anyway, it had been a long time since he'd entertained such evil thoughts. Although he'd never achieved a feeling of fidelity with his fellow man, he loathed the idea of ending another's life, not that he ever relished it. In his eyes each life he'd taken had been out of necessity and for survival. Now he'd learned enough about the value of life to respect another's right to live, even a tortured existence.
Erik would never stop blaming Raoul for the tragedies of his romance with Christine. If it hadn't been for the handsome fop imposing himself on her, she and Erik's relationship would have progressed naturally. They would have spent the rest of their lives together, a life rich in love and music. Their children, a concept Erik had only recently considered, would have been the best reflection of their mother's talent and beauty, and their father's genius and tenacity. It was a dream that would never be realized.
"Agreed. When you return to your rooms you'll find your bags prepared for your departure and a ticket for your return journey to France. Payment has been remitted to your European accounts and a purse has been placed amongst your belongings for the onboard passage." Raoul turned one last time to look at his long time masked nemesis. Normally he'd be only be feeling a mix of menace, fury and revulsion, but today a small part of him felt they were compatriots in their grief. Raoul felt himself just as responsible for Christine's death as this man.
Raoul's only remaining trepidation was about leaving the child with this once murderer and phantom, but glancing in the boy's direction and seeing the long limbed, dark haired and wild eyed child looking back at him withered his apprehension. Where once there had been a gap, now lay a chasm. He did love Gustave, but that feeling had always been measured. Had there been some part of him that had known it wasn't his child? Would it have made a difference? If so, it was Christine's own sin that had condemned her and them.
Regardless, there was no changing what had happened or what had to be done. Raoul felt cold and numb about the entire situation. Even his anger had drained away leaving an emptiness that he feared would never be filled. This is where the boy belonged, for better or worse. Without another word the Vicomte turned towards the young boy that stood looking on. It was hard for him to recognize what he felt as he looked at the young man he'd thought was his own flesh and blood for a decade.
"Gustave, I'll be returning to France today. You'll be remaining here with… well, with your father. I'll write to you, and I hope you'll write me back." The Vicomte dropped to one knee before the boy and gave him a tentative hug.
"Will I ever see you again?" asked Gustave. Raoul looked into the child's eyes, seeing for the first time how much they were like the other. He'd been so blinded by his own selfishness and arrogance that he'd never noticed what was now so obvious. He felt there was no place for him in the life of this brilliant and haunted child. If only Raoul had been the kind of father and husband he'd needed to be all along things might be different.
"I would like that Gustave." He gave the child one last embrace before rising and heading off down the lane. That would be the last time Gustave would see the Vicomte De Chagny. When the retreating man had disappeared, the boy turned to find the man that was now his entire world and future standing beside him. Erik had watched the sullen exchange between the boy and his one-time rival with tepid anxiety. Now Gustave would be looking to him to be the father he needed, and the father Christine believed he could be.
Looking down into his son's piercing eyes made him feel the full weight of that responsibility. He'd never dared to imagine that someone as hideous as he would ever have a lover let alone a child. He never had and never would pray to god, but he now had a real angel that he hoped was looking down on these two weeping souls. He asked her to guide his hand and heart in raising their child.