Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 14: Runaway

The rest of that night was full of confusion and turmoil.

"I have no experience in parent hood, what made me think I could keep this child from becoming like me? His very environment is that which made me what I am." Erik told the Persian.

Nadir remained silent, perhaps he was afraid of what Erik would do if he agreed.

"That is not true," Nadir said, but Erik could see the truth, as he always had in eyes.

"Life as we know it is a series of events that end up only surviving in our memories. We do not have control of what we remember and what we do not, they are a part of us. But we can control how those memories affect us. If they make us kind and compassionate or hateful and cruel. It is up to you to take those memories he has and make them those good memories, ones he learns from, and looks back on wisely with experience." The Persian said sternly.

He meant his every word. There must be no more talk of Raoul, or of Opera Ghosts and tormented pasts.

Both were painful subjects that would trigger hate. 

Christine lit the candles and made some tea. She watched with great intrigue the two friends talk back and forth. Each comforting eachother in their grievances. She would listen to them, busy herself, or she would die of worry.

Erik hurt to remember he had mistreated his friend a good many years. Not to mention had almost killed him.

The one person who listened to him from start, the one who did not shrink back in terror, Erik lived in shame to remember he had betrayed him.

Awkwardly Erik asked, "Where have you been living Dargo?"

"A small, middle-class flat in the rue de Rivoli, across the street from the Actors barracks. I survive on the modest pension I receive from the Persian government." He shrugged, "It is not much, but it is enough. I was punished greatly for our little escape trick Erik, but I will no longer hold you to it. I know you barley spared me the last time."

The Persian shuttered. Erik could tell he was thinking of the torture chamber and the Siren.

"Reza?" Erik started with a questioning glance.

"Dead, we shall not speak of it, unless you force me." The Persian choked out. His smile faded so quickly Christine felt the chill of loss run up her own spine.

Erik sighed, a sigh of disturbed grief Christine never recalled hearing before. Even when she had left him. She wanted to approach her husband and take away the pain so clearly written across his face but refrained. 

Erik's heart grieved heavily. Reza was one of the few children he had know, his heart was as pure and noble as Nadir's.

Christine suddenly thought of what would have happened if Nadir had not come. What if Gustave had died? 

Would she be forced once more to live as a prisoner rather than wife? Lonley, unfeeling despair of a life without Eriks happiness.

While the two men remained enveloped in conversation. Christine stowed away.

After many hours Erik looked up, "Dargo," he whispered nervously, "Where is my wife?"

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Erik flew in a black rage from the house, mounted his horse once again and left poor Nadir standing on the banks of the shore, a bottle of wine in one hand, and a piece of music in the other.

He found his way through he shadows once again to the Vicomtes house.

This was a risk, a great one, the sun was beginning to dawn and to be discovered would mean the end of his freedom. He has crimes for which if found out he would be entitled to pay for.

If only he had not spent so much on that luxury of a room on the boat ride to Paris, then he could have forgone Roaul all together, paying for a Doctors silence as he did the priest.

The small house which she had once called her own, brought back a plethora of memories to her. Erik found Christine crouched at the bedside of her only son, sleeping soundly.

Raoul awakened at the sound of Erik entering and mumbled somberly.

"I tried to send her home to you," he said rising to his feet, "She wouldn't hear of it."

Erik recoiled at the sight of Gustave's pale wet face, he had lost all color and appeared cold as ice.

His stomach churned and he tumbled backward against the doorframe. 

This couldn't be true, it couldn't be.

"Erik," Raoul said with great concern.

He knew he would lose Christine entirely if Erik died so the preservation of her husband was a priority.

"Erik do not distress yourself. It is only his fever breaking. It did so an hour ago. A doctor came from town and administered Penicillin and other medications. He will recover in time. "

Erik collapsed backward in tears.

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Christine stirred awake, her hand locked with her sons, she sat up a bit taller and smiled weakly. Erik had laid his head in her lap and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as she did to comfort Gustave. For a moment, she felt everything would be perfect forever.
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Indeed in time was well in the household. Gustave regained strength, spoke more, ate more, but his eyes still watched warily as either of his fathers past him.

About Fours nights later, Christine was preparing to tell Gustave that the Doctor recommended his release from bed in a day or so.

A blood piercing scream echoed through the house.

Both Erik and Raoul who had been gazing at each other resentfully downstairs rushed up frantically, terrified as to what they would find upon their arrival.

Christine lay crumpled on the floor, unable to speak or scream anymore. A hand was held to her bosom containing a note.

What had happened?!

Then Erik's eyes saw the bed.

Gustave was gone.