Chapter 2 - My Son

Two Years Later...

Erik tapped his foot against the pavement impatiently as he took his pocketwatch out of his waistcoat for the fourth time in ten minutes.

4:45.

Damien should be out by now, he thought.

He sighed in annoyance at his son's tardiness. Not necessarily his son, but rather Monsieur Devereaux, his fencing instructor. If anything had happened to his boy, even the fencing master in charge of teaching him how to use a blade for four and a half hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays wouldn't survive unscathed.

Suddenly, much to Erik's immense relief, the chime attached to the door beneath the sign reading M. Eugene Devereaux: Fencing and Swordplay Instruction rang. He turned in time to see a small boy wearing a cloak and paper white mask pushed the door open and hopped down the steps. He looked around for a moment, seeming to briefly shrink in on himself timidly until he caught sight of his father.

Father.

Though enough time had passed for Erik to become accustomed to the word being synonymous with himself, he still marveled at the fact that it was. Though more than often he had thought about having a family, he had resigned himself to the knowledge that those dreams would never come to pass. They had shattered long ago like all the rest. Then Damien came along all on his own and changed that, causing a spark of hope to lighten his otherwise dark world. He returned to the present just in time to see his son running to him.

Immediately, the smile that brightened the child's face brought one to Erik's own lips. The small boy hugged his leg, burying his face in the cloak and trousers. "Father, I am so glad to see you!" he exclaimed in his high-pitched child's voice.

Erik knelt down beside him and opened his arms to hug the little boy. "I'm glad to see you as well, my boy," he said breathlessly as Damien flung his arms around his neck and hung on tight. "I trust your lesson went well?"

Damien nodded and replied, "Mmhm!" Erik nodded, pleased. Still smiling, something that had become less rare in present times, Erik took his son's small hand in his own and the little boy flipped his own dark brown hood over his head to cover the small mask on the left side of his face. Erik knew without seeing his face that Damien was grinning from ear to ear as he clung tightly to his hand.

He quickly pulled out his pocket watch for a glance at the time.

4:48.

Tea hour would be ending soon, and people would be returning to the streets. Right now, there were very few people out who had skipped tea time, which was part of the plan. Whenever Damien had to go somewhere, it was scheduled that he leave at noon, while everyone was eating lunch, and not return home until between 4 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon.

In this case, Damien's lessons lasted from noon until 4:30. Originally, his lessons with Monsieur Devereaux had lasted only a half an hour and they would take the routes through the sewers back home. However, one day when Damien had to stay an extra hour because of events in the Opera Populaire that Erik had to take care of, Devereaux had asked him to stay and watch his son's work when he returned.

Apparently, Damien hadn't shown a great deal of progress until he had stayed the extra hour and had displayed incredible improvement when allowed to work longer with Monsieur Devereaux. At just five years old, he had been deemed a prodigy by a sword fighting master. It had taken Erik by surprise that the then still quiet and small boy had such a prowess with a blade.

Why, you ask, was a five year old taking sword fighting lessons in the first place? Erik's paranoia for his safety was one reason, he knew. Another was his wish to prevent a fate akin to his own for his son. He would be able to protect himself at an age when Erik was helpless.

That aside, it was then that Erik began to realize that he and the boy had more in common than he had found himself believing more and more recently then. Not long afterwards, little Damien had begun to express an interest in the haunting music his adoptive father would sing and play for him on the organ.

That in itself was nearly six months ago. Damien was just a few days away from being six already. Erik, wishing to give his son a gift he would cherish, had decided to introduce him to something he was sure to love.

Along with the aforementioned interest in music had gradually come an interest in the opera house above their lair. He had made it clearer as time went on and he opened up that he would greatly enjoy seeing an opera. He had hinted at the notion every once in a while; just enough to snag Erik's attention.

It didn't take him long to realize he had a prodigy on his hands, but it wasn't until he started taking the extra-long fencing lessons that he had truly begun to flourish. His talent with a blade nearly as long as he was tall and the praise he had received from his father and teacher made him somewhat bolder.

And so, he had begun teaching him how to play the large organ in their home beneath the Opera House cellars. His voice still remained quiet most of the time, so Erik couldn't yet help him cultivate his voice; but he held an avid interest in the violin and all but begged his father to teach him how to play it. At first Erik wasn't sure how musically inclined the boy actually was until he began to play.

Of course, practice was always needed, but Damien learned quickly and took much of the offered guidance to heart. He often watched with wide, shining eyes as Erik played both instruments he was fascinated with. More than once he had caught the boy either swaying back and forth to the song or mimicking his movements.

Here again Erik could see that he and Damien were very alike. They shared a common enrapturement with song, the pure awe that merely pressing a key or plucking a string could make a sound that could evoke so many emotions.

Surprisingly, Erik had been able to say for the first time that he was truly happy.

It amazed him to a greater degree than anything else about the boy. He was really very happy with Damien. He had brought an emotion to his heart that he thought he had thought he was incapable of for two years. He had brought him love.

His smile turning affectionate as he glanced down at the essentially miniature adaption of himself trying to keep pace at his side.

My son.

Looking up, he could see the Opera Populaire ahead of them and they reached it just as the huge clock tower bell chimed to the count of five, signalling the new hour. He ushered his son into the shadow of the Rue Scribbe and through the door of the opera house. They slipped into the shadows just as a group of stagehands came around the corner and went out the door.

"Come now Damien, before they come back," he whispered lifting the boy into his arms and carrying him the rest of the way down to the lair.

When they reached the canal where the boat was tied up, Erik set Damien down and let him scramble into the pit of the gondola. His hood pushed back, he sat perched on the edge of the single seat at the front as Erik rowed out the short distance of the canal to the inner lair.

As soon as the boat knocked against the shore, Damien was out of the boat and running up to the organ. Erik couldn't help but smile at his son's excitement and he couldn't wait to tell him his surprise.

He heard the sound of his son playing simple scales on the first set of keys on the organ. He strolled up to the organ, dropping his coat over a bench and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Damien, having come to know his father's touch, didn't flinch. He turned his head up for a second to grin at Erik before turning it back to the keys of the organ.

"Damien, I have a surprise for you," he said softly, folding his hands behind his back and hoping that his son would be as excited as he was. Instantly the sound of Damien's playing ceased and he turned around on the stool to look at his father.

He blinked twice and waited. Erik grinned back at him.

"We're going to an opera tonight," he informed him.

Damien's reaction was immediate.

"An opera Father? We're going upstairs?" he could hear the raw excitement in his voice as well as the disguised trepidation. Erik nodded, crouching down to the boy's level. The bright blue eyes, somehow so like his own, gleamed in the soft light of the myriads of candles that illuminated their home.

"Yes my son. You're old enough now to be able to sit through it. And you love music as much as I do and more," he held Damien's unscarred cheek in his hand and searched his eyes, rooting past the excitement and finding the inner fear that the boy had become quite good at hiding. "I know you're afraid. You mustn't hide that from me. I promise I would never do anything that could put either us in danger."

Damien's eyes seemed to search Erik's in return. "You promise?"

"I promise."

Damien lunged forward and wrapped his thin arms around his father's neck. The instinct to return the embrace, something that had taken him time, now came naturally and Erik found himself holding to his little boy just as much.

My son. I'll never let anyone hurt you again.

A/N: I would like to thank all of you who have read, reviewed, faved, and followed this story (currently there are three of you, you know who you are)! I know it seemed all day like I wasn't going to continue... Hah! I have the first two and a half chapters of the story written!

I hope you liked this week's chapter, so I will now bid you goodnight and I will see you all next Monday.

IMSP

EDIT: Hi-yo people, just edited a few parts of this, and I intend to return shortly to make more. Hope this makes a bit more sense.