The Choices of Raoul de Chagny (Phantom/Love never Dies fanfic)

Back Here Beside You

...in which all manner of thing shall be well.

Chapter 6. Back Here Beside You

Gustave lay curled with one hand beneath his cheek, looking up at them gravely. "Is Father going to sing as well?"

Caught unawares, Christine found herself blushing a little, laughing. He was a bright child, and he'd been watching them together, these past few days; he had to have been drawing conclusions.

Raoul had laughed as well. "I don't think that would send you to sleep, Gustave — I'm not quite in your mother's league."

"But didn't you ever sing — when you were little?"

"Of course he did. And he used to play tunes with my Papa." Christine looked up at her husband, catching his hand between both of hers. "Raoul, why don't we try? No, listen... do you remember Au Petit Estaminet? We sang it for your aunt, once, that time she came to see Papa; we used to do it as a round..."

She hummed the line softly, pressing his hand.

Au petit estaminet

là où on se trouve—

And on the second repeat, as she gave the sign, his voice came in to join her, awkward and oddly husky in her ears after memory's childhood treble. He coughed and broke off ruefully, clearing his throat. "I can't—"

"You can." Christine was adamant. She bent her head to touch her lips to the hand she held, in reassurance. "Come on — together: au petit estaminet..."

Her father's eyes had been bright in the twilight, his fiddle set aside on his knee for the moment as the children sang: three times round, call and repeat, and then his deep voice would come in under theirs in the long nonsense phrases, tra la la te da tra la te ée... and round and round the little song would wind, she and Raoul intent upon Papa's dancing eyes, waiting for the moment when he would try to catch them out and... Stop! But they had always been too quick: and the three voices would break off in the same instant, laughing, and Papa would sweep them both into a great hug—

She felt Raoul's arm tighten around her in the same memory, and heard him begin again, voice hoarse from disuse: a beat later she came in behind him in unison, their voices blending in the simple melody as Gustave's face lit up in eagerness. And if she knew her son... She glanced up at Raoul for a moment, warning him, and he nodded, falling briefly silent before launching gallantly on cue into the second part.

The duet faltered under the challenge; wavered, as she dropped hastily down to an undervoice, and slowly regained confidence as Raoul's contribution steadied into the remembered pattern. Call and response... his part two phrases behind hers. Beyond the delight in Gustave's wide eyes she could see understanding unwinding, saw the child sit up on an inward breath as the music chased itself...

Christine gave smiling assent to that eager look; saw him listen an instant longer, intently. And then Gustave's clear treble came in, pitch-perfect, on the third part — two phrases behind Raoul's — and the round was once again complete.

Two phrases ahead, two phrases behind: soprano and treble twined around each other with the man's deeper voice steady below. Oh Papa... Raoul's hand, too, had trembled a little in her own; she pressed it close against her breast where the ache of her heart beat, and drew strength from the warmth of his body.

Au petit estaminet... tra la la te da... She could feel tension and a hint of laughter in her husband, and knew they shared the same thought: the phrase swung round to its triumphant conclusion, and... stopped, both of them together on the same instant, with Gustave left to trail off alone and indignant in surprise.