Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 29:Scars

Christine spent her every moment with the twins, one of them always in her sight the other always in Eriks arms.

Sleep was easy when it was with Eli. He hadn't spoken or cried since the moment he was born. It worried Christine but the boy cooed ever so slightly whenever the piano got too loud or Gustave played his violin.

Ilios was an angel too, just much more vocal about her discomfort. The two seemed polar opposites, and Gustave had been placed gingerly somewhere in the middle of both. Hopefully, he would act as a mediator to keep the peace between them as they grew older.

Erik loved every waking moment. The anticipation, never any two seconds the same. As a youth, he had been tormented by the fact that he could never visit or see the places he read about. Now, he realized the truth.

It's not the place it's the people.

What was Rome compared to Ilios' laugh and smile? Italy to the sparkle in Elis alert cunning eyes?

Yet, even in this unsuperseded bliss, Erik's nightmares grew worse and worse. Something sat wrong within his heart, every time his eye rested on Eli a wave of nausea overcame his senses.

After one particularly long night awake he sat in silence, Ilios in his arms, staring at the moon above.

"Good morning," he grinned, the baby sleeping soundly. "See the moon Ilios? It will always be there, no matter if your good or bad. It's a comfort, it was there when I was born, now I get to share it."

He stared up above, reflecting, wishing, regretting and most of all wondering. Wondering if his father had truly been born under the same waxing moon.

Christine entered, Eli had fallen asleep easily on her chest and now she came to see if her sweet daughter had calmed at last.

She smiled at her husband, how kind he was, how much time he dedicated to his children.

She turned away in momentary pain as she remembered Raoul holding Gustave for the first time. What affection she had felt for him then, how much he had loved Gustave.

Was it possible for love to fade or just become hidden?

Erik suddenly jolted, a chill confusing his broad shoulders.

"Are you alright?" She asked slowly. "Erik?"

Erik's thoughts were far away, far away in a cellar room in London.

A baby had been born, him, his mother fainted on sight, that part of the story he knew.

But now a new memory surfaced, a smiling face, a kind face, taking a single finger and drawing a line across his face.

Whos face? Whos kindness?

Another memory hit him like a bullet, this time a dimly lit room, the same face, only more sorrowful, more tired. The man took his finger and drew the line across Eriks face and then his own unblemished one.

The same line that ran across Elis scar.

"He didn't know," Erik lamanted, "Oh Christine what cruelty. He mustn't have known."

Christine took Ilios from him gently, warily. Was he asleep or awake? She could not tell.

"Who Erik?" She questioned.

Erik shook his head, "My father. What did he mean? Why would he do it?"

Christine stood back, she knew it was best not to disturb him in a dangerous mood. That haunted face in the moonlight, when it scanned and dreamed like animals could still envoke fear into her very soul.

She watched in confusion as Erik removed his mask, taking a shaking hand and tracing the edge of his deformity with a delicate finger.

"Erik," Christine stammered, "I need to know if your allright..."

She searched his tear welled eyes and felt her own heart wearing and breaking.

"He was my Father"

His voice choked and tears fell for the first time in far too long, he grasped the ledge and moonlight harder, "He must have loved me, Christine."

Christine turned away, shame shrouding all other emotion, shame that she had left him, shame that she had ever considered loathing her poor angel.

"I don't know what to say. " She said slowly, " Erik, What do you want me to say? Let me make it all right."

"Don't let me leave. Don't let me be anything less than perfect," Erik sighed closing his eyes. "Do you know what the last thing my mother told me was?"

"What?"

Erik cried a small heartbroken sob, "Be-."

An ashamed look of regret child his stone features stiff.

He looked older in the moonlight.

"Be a good child. Heed your masters."

The stars engulfed both of them, lifetimes of regret yet too many half-empty stories. Too old to be children anymore, too full of hope to be adults.

"What was his name?" Christine asked softly, "Do you remeber?"

Erik shook his head wearily, "It was so long ago for me."

"And Gustave?" Erik said breaking himself from his sorrow and wiping his eyes.

He smiled softly and savored the name on the tip of his tongue. It had been so long since he had spoken it, the secret smooth letters that formed his eldest sons name.

"He hurts Erik. He feels deep." Christine sighed, "May he forgive me, but I pity that poor girl."

"She left him." Erik scoffed.

Christine shook her head, biting her lip ever so slightly, "No Erik. She let him go."

Silence.

"Just as a kind man, let me go, for he had no choice many a moonless night ago." Christine sighed.

"It was a mis-"

"It was a blessing. We were young, we were volatile, a child in our hands might have ended disastrously."

"Or it might not have."

Christine nodded, "Or it might not have."

Erik smiled, "She'll come back. He needn't worry."

Christine sat down beside him, trying not to move as much as was possible to keep Ilios calmly asleep.

"Your dreams Erik." She said slowly, "You know I'm always here to listen."

He kissed her hand softly, "That's all I ever ask."

When Christine had at long last fallen asleep, Erik made his way back into the nursery, standing over little Elis crib for hours.

He never needed much sleep anyways.

Slowly he took a gentle finger and softly placed it along Elis' face, then repeated the action on his own.

"We're the same you and I." he smiled. "I won't ever leave you. Never Eli. Never doubt that. You and I. You and I."