Weeks later...

"Finally! Paris!" Gustave grinned, looking excitedly at the sights around him. "Where are we going to stay?"

"I have a home that I designed just north of the city," Erik replied. "We'll be making that our home."

"Really? When did you have time to do that?" Gustave frowned, his interest fully peaked.

"Oh, I had that design laying around for a while. I had it built while I was in America, in case I wanted to come back."

"Well, it was a good thing you did," Gustave smiled. "How far is it from here?"

"Maybe half an hour from the main heart of the city. It won't take long in a carriage," Erik replied. "Shall we?"

"Sounds splendid," Gustave nodded, picking up his suitcase with a small groan.

"You're determined to carry that, aren't you?" Erik asked with a chuckle.

Gustave nodded. "I will drag this blasted thing if I have to!"

Erik couldn't help but laugh as he walked behind Gustave, who was indeed dragging his suitcase. "Alright, then. Just don't let it land on your foot," he advised as he waved down a nearby carriage.

"It has three times already."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Gustave shrugged. "It's happened before."

"Okay. I just don't want you to hurt your toes," Erik said with a smile. "I've dropped a case on my foot. It's not exactly fun."

"I guess I'm just more focused on other things that hurt right now," Gustave sighed.

Erik sent him a sympathetic smile. "I know. I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It isn't your fault," Gustave replied with a shrug. "It's no one's, except for Miss Giry."

As much as Erik agreed, he knew that instilling the tendency to hold grudges in his son wasn't a good idea. "Now, Gustave," he said, bending down to his level, "Miss Giry certainly made a mistake that has hurt us both, but she wasn't in her right mind that night."

"That doesn't matter much now, does it?" Gustave sighed. "Mother is dead because of her. There's no way around that fact."

"Hey, it's alright. Don't get yourself all worked up," Erik said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know you're upset."

Gustave nodded tearfully, setting down his suitcase to wrap his arms around his father.

"Shh, it's alright." Erik rubbed the boy's back as he let him cry onto his shoulder.

"I miss Mother," Gustave sniffled, gripping onto his father's suit coat.

"I know, I know you do. I do too."

"Can...can we go home now?"

"Of course we can. Our carriage is here, come on." Erik gave him another tight squeeze before he pulled back to wipe his tears. "Are you alright?"

Gustave nodded, sniffling a bit. "I will be."

"Alright. You get in the carriage while I help with our luggage. I'll be right there."

"Okay," Gustave said quietly, climbing up and sitting on the leather seat.

Erik loaded their luggage into the coach before he told the driver the address and climbed in with Gustave. "How are you?" he asked, sitting next to his son.

"Better," Gustave nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Good. We'll be home before you know it," Erik promised.

"I hope so," Gustave sighed, leaning his head against his father's shoulder. "When is Mother's funeral?"

"In a couple of days, I believe. We'll have time to settle in at home before then."

"Alright," Gustave replied with a little sniffle. "Papa...do you..." he hesitated before quietly asking, "do you love me? Like Mother did?"

Erik looked down at the child leaning against his shoulder. "Of course I do, Gustave. Why would you even ask that? You're my son, my only child. I love you more than anything," he replied. He was surprised how easily he said those words, but they were so true that they came easily to him.

"You've just never said it before," Gustave smiled, looking up at his father. "I love you too, Papa."

Erik smiled, hesitating for a moment before he leaned over and kissed his son's forehead.

Gustave's smile brightened a bit. "I'm glad that you're my father and not Raoul."

"Thank you," Erik said with a little laugh. "I'm sorry he wasn't kind to you. I wish I had been there sooner to help you and your mother."

"It's okay," Gustave shrugged, shaking his head a bit. "You didn't know, Papa."

"I know. I shouldn't have left in the first place, though."

"Why did you?" Gustave asked softly, intently studying his father's face.

Erik sighed, trying to find the words to explain his feelings on the morning he left Christine's side. "I was...afraid, Gustave. I feared your mother would see me and my face and run away from me again. I didn't even consider how much she loved me," he admitted, his throat getting tight as he spoke.

Gustave stroked his father's arm gently. "She did love you, you know. She often told me of her time at the Opera Populaire. Of course, I thought they were just stories."

"Did she? What kind of stories?" Erik asked, blinking back his tears.

"She told me that there was a man she loved who taught her to sing. She often told me about how she called him her Angel of Music and how she missed him terribly," Gustave said softly.

Erik nodded. "Yes, that would be me," he said, only to pause. "Did she truly miss me so much?"

Gustave nodded. "She talked about you all the time...but never in front of Raoul."

"I'm not surprised. The two of us did not get along by any means."

"I can certainly see why," Gustave sighed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. Just mad at myself," Erik admitted.

"Don't be, Papa," Gustave said softly. "You couldn't have known."

"I know, but I can't help it. You two dealt with so much that you never should have to suffer through. I missed a chance to have a family."

"We have each other now," Gustave nodded, resting his head against his father's shoulder again. "We may be missing Mother, but she would be happy that you and I are together now. It's what she wanted."

Erik sighed, but nodded. "You're right, Gustave. You're exactly right," he said as he turned to look out the window, his arm moving to wrap around his son's shoulders.

"I can't wait to get home," Gustave smiled, attempting to lighten his father's mood. "Papa...are you crying?" He asked after a moment with a little frown.

"No, no, I'm fine," Erik croaked, keeping his eyes on the window and the passing cityscape.

Gustave reached up to dry his father's unmasked cheek. "It's going to be okay, Papa."

"I know it will be. It just doesn't seem like that at times," Erik replied, finally turning back to look at his son.

"I know, Papa," Gustave nodded. "But Mother would want us to be happy. Right?"

Erik managed to smile. "She would, wouldn't she?"

"Definitely," Gustave said thoughtfully.

"I'll certainly make an effort. I am sorry, though. I would have loved to have been there when you were a baby."

"Well, we can't exactly change that now," Gustave sighed. "But you will get to see me grow up. That's just as good, isn't it?"

"It is, yes," Erik said with a nod. "I just hope I'll be able to help raise you to be a young gentleman."

"I have faith in you," Gustave smiled, hugging his father tightly. "I'm sure this will work out wonderfully."

Erik gave his son a squeeze. "You can shut your eyes for a short time until we get to the house, if you want," he said.

"I'm okay for now," Gustave shrugged. "I'll keep you company."

"Well. I would enjoy that very much," Erik said with a smile

—————

"Woah," Gustave said in wonder as he and his father stepped into their new home. "Did you really design all this?"

"I did, yes," Erik said, laughing quietly at the awe on his son's face.

"It's beautiful," Gustave smiled. "Which one's my room?"

"Well, there's quite a few bedrooms in the house. More than I ever thought I would need, but I added them anyway. Why don't we go upstairs and you can take your pick?"

"Okay," Gustave nodded, leaving his suitcase at the door and dashing up the staircase.

Erik chuckled and followed him up, his own pace noticeably slower. He looked around as he walked, smiling as he recognized each detail from his drafts. The workers he had hired had done very well for themselves.

"Which one is yours, Papa?" Gustave asked excitedly, seeming to have momentarily forgotten his troubles.

"That would be the master bedroom," Erik replied as he pushed open a nearby door and revealed the largest of the bedrooms. A queen sized bed with two bedside tables, an armoire, desk, and chest of drawers filled the space, though there was certainly room for added decorations and details. "What do you think?"

"It's lovely," Gustave smiled. "I think I would like the room next to yours."

"Perfect. Go take a look at it, then."

Gustave quickly opened the door to the adjacent room. "Wow," he smiled. "It's beautiful!"

Erik grinned. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "You can certainly decorate it to make it your own, of course."

"Thank you, Papa," Gustave grinned, hugging him tightly.

"You're very welcome, my boy," Erik said, his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Are you hungry? It's been a while since you ate."

Gustave nodded. "A bit, yes. But I doubt there's food here."

"Not at the moment, no. There is a café not too far from here, if I recall correctly."

"Can we go together, Papa?"

"Of course! I wasn't going to make you wander alone," Erik said.

"I should hope not," Gustave replied with a small chuckle. "Let's go!"

"Don't tell me you're going to race me downstairs," Erik said with a smirk.

"I will, if you think you can keep up with me," Gustave smirked.

Without another word, Erik hurried down the hall for the stairwell. "Can you keep up with me?" he asked, only pausing for a moment to look back at his son.

Gustave quickly shoved him aside, racing down the stairs. "I won!"

Erik groaned playfully as he walked down after him. "So you did," he said with a laugh.

Gustave chuckled. "Can we go eat now, Papa? I'm famished."

"Yes, let's go," Erik nodded as he opened the front door. "After you."