NOVEMBER 1918

ERIK

It had been absolute agony and nothing less as we all waited anxiously for Gustave to return. The country as a whole was busy celebrating the victory over the Germans, but none of us could be bothered to join in the festivities; between waiting for Gustave to return and trying to process our grief after losing William, the last thing any of us wanted to do was celebrate in the streets.

The announcement that the war was over and the soldiers were on their way home had set Madeleine miles back in respect to coming to terms with her grief. Knowing that William had been shot and killed mere days before the armistice had been signed nearly destroyed her. I had gone to visit one day but had seen only Charles and Elizabeth downstairs. "She won't get out of bed," Charles had said. He'd had such a hollow look in his eyes that it was easy to tell that he was barely able to hold things together for himself.

It was another day before I saw her; she had come over to my home, determined to keep the lunch plans she had made with Lara and myself. Within an hour of her arrival, she had ended up crying on my shoulder with both me and Lara attempting to console her. That was a difficult feat, in a way. William's death had still been taking its toll on my own heart at the time, the void of losing the boy who had become like my second son still impossibly deep, but I at least had the reassurance that my child was coming home; Madeleine had not been so fortunate. To comfort her that day was a test of the ability to choose one's words carefully, a skill I had never been strong in, but one that I was determined to hone for her sake.

Amidst the grief that was so glaringly present in every moment of every day, I finally had an inkling of joy in my heart. Getting to train Lara and teach her to sing had helped tremendously, even more so after the war had ended. Lara's voice had a new life to it; new abilities, new vigour when she sang, as if just knowing that Gustave was on his way home had breathed new life into her. However, the happiness it brought me was nothing compared to the sheer glee I felt when I thought about getting to hold my son in my arms for the first time in three years. That happiness was unmatched.

The one aspect that made waiting even more difficult was that we had no idea when Gustave was getting home. Every day, I got out of bed and waited to see if he would walk through the front door and into my arms. Even Sasha seemed to know that I was waiting on bated breath; she stood at the window in the sitting room and simply watched, waiting with her tail wagging at the sight of every person that walked by. I didn't blame her whatsoever; I was just as eager, to the point that Nadir had begun commenting on how he hadn't seen me quite so happy in years. It was a welcome topic of conversation; talking about my son was the easiest thing to do. It made me feel like he was right there with me, even when he was nowhere near me.

Then, the day finally came.

I was in my study working on a commission at the time. Having newfound joy in my life had provided wondrous for my inspiration; I was completing designs faster than ever before and was pleased with the initial drafts, which hadn't happened in years. Quite satisfied with the work I had done so far, I set my pencil to the page to continue, only to be so suddenly started by a scream and loud barking from Sasha coming from downstairs that I dropped my pencil from my hands. Immediately knowing the scream was Lara's, given that Nadir was the only one other in the house and I knew even he couldn't utter such a high-pitched sound, I leapt out of my chair and ran down the stairs. Was something wrong? Was she hurt? Was Nadir hurt? Was someone ill? A million thoughts were running through my head, and I wanted none of them to come to fruition by any means. I couldn't have something happen to them too.

"Lara, what's-'' I began to ask, only to freeze when I reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at the scene in front of my eyes. It was...it couldn't have been him. He was too tall. He had filled out, his frame slightly stockier and more muscular. His hair had been cut down close to his scalp, no longer a thick mess on top of his head with curls like his mother's towards the tips. But if I ever doubted that it truly was my son standing only a few feet in front of me, seeing his wide, toothy smile confirmed that it couldn't have been anyone else.

He held a hysterical Lara in his arms, gently running his fingers through her hair before they pulled away from their embrace and shared a kiss. I had a feeling it would have been more passionate had they been alone, but the love and longing that they were pouring into the gentle gesture were obvious.

"I missed you so much," I heard Lara say as they pulled apart, though the shock I was feeling was beginning to make it difficult to even pay attention to anyone or anything other than my son.

"I know, but I'm here now, it's alright," Gustave said, turning and smiling wide when my best friend walked over and pulled him into his arms. "Hi, Uncle Nadir. God, I missed you."

"I missed you too, Gustave. It's so good to have you back," Nadir replied, laughing as he looked down to see Sasha jumping at their ankles. "I think someone else is glad to see you too."

Gustave laughed; that was a sound that I hadn't realized I needed to have in my life until it had been absent for three years of my life. I had gotten so used to being able to make him laugh with my ridiculous commentary as I went about my day, hearing him giggle when Nadir and I would bicker with each other that to suddenly hear it again after years of silence was almost overwhelming. It was far from the boyish giggle it had been when he had first come into my care, but it had changed even more since he had been deployed. His voice too; it was deeper and more consistent instead of scattered with voice cracks. That made it clear to me just how much he had grown up without me seeing it; he was twenty-one, I realized. Officially an adult, his own man.

"Sasha, you're so big!" he said, a grin on his face as he scratched the dog behind the ears, only to quickly straighten up.

"Uncle Nadir, where's Papa? I need to-"

It was then that we locked eyes and my knees finally went weak beneath me. I crumbled to the floor, tears welling up in my eyes as I took in the details of my boy that I had missed; the dimple on his left cheek, the slight downturn of the right side of his face that I had come to love rather than despise. It was the small details, the ones that I had worried I would never see again, that I analyzed, ignoring the more obvious ones for the moment.

"Oh, soldatino," I finally managed to say, those two simple words enough to make my resolve finally crumble and tears start to pour down my face.

"Papa," Gustave said, hurrying over and dropping to his knees to slide across the floorboards over to me and hug me tighter than ever before. He was clutching my suit jacket in his fists, burying his face in my shoulder as I cradled his head with my hand and held him close to my chest. "I'm home, Papa. I came home as I promised."

"I knew you'd keep your promise, my boy. It was just a matter of seeing it happen," I replied. It was like I couldn't hold him close enough, hug him tight enough. The prospect of letting him go and having him slip through my fingers again was terrifying and I wanted to take no chances. "I'm just so glad to have you home."

The two of us didn't even move from each other's arms when we felt Lara and Nadir join the embrace. At that moment, there was no one else in the world but me and him. He was the only thing that mattered to me; my child was home and safe in my arms and that was all I needed and all I could ever need.

I finally managed to make myself lean back enough in order to look at him and cup his face in my hands. "I...God, I'm so glad you're home, my boy," I said with a tearful smile. "You're so grown up. Who let you get so big?"

Gustave managed to laugh at that. "I don't know but it's fun to see your reaction," he replied.

"Never mind how big he's gotten; he looks like you, Erik. There's definitely no doubt that he is yours," Nadir said with a chuckle.

"I know and it's frightening," I replied. Looking at his face, I realized how very true that statement was. Gustave was around the same age I had been during my last year in Persia, and the resemblance was remarkable; the same sharp jawline and nose, the same thin lips. He was obviously in better health than I had been, but the other similarities were clear. Still, amidst all of the resemblance to me, one facial feature stood out as different, as a characteristic that could not be attributed to my genetics. "As much as he looks like me, his eyes...they're all Christine."

With a smile, Gustave looked at me as tears started to fall from his eyes. "You look the same, Papa. The same face I thought of every day," he said as he slipped my mask off of my face, setting his hand to my cheek before he wrapped his arms around me again.

"Don't cry now, my boy, it's alright. You're home now," I replied, giving him a squeeze before leaning back to wipe his tears away. "Everything's alright."

Gustave gave me a smile before he turned back to Lara, who had started to cry again. "No, don't you cry too, love. I'll just start crying all over again," he said with a quiet laugh.

"I'm just so glad you're back," Lara said, giving him a quick kiss. "Although, I am also mourning the loss of your lovely hair as well. I can't run my fingers through it anymore now that you hardly have any at all."

We all couldn't help but laugh at the comment; his new army-mandated haircut was certainly going to be an adjustment. His hair was usually so thick and unruly, so to see him with hardly any hair compared to his typical appearance would certainly be something we would have to get used to.

"Oh, don't look so sad. In fact, you should probably get used to it; I'm quite fond of it, I might just keep it," Gustave said with a smirk. Lara, however, was clearly unamused by the joke, as she was quick to give him a smack on the arm. "Why are you hitting me? Lara, my love, I just got home,I missed you and I know that amidst all that you missed me too, but please, at least give me a day before you start hitting me."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll grow your hair out again. I will not tolerate it like this," Lara said sternly.

"That seems like a legitimate threat, Gustave. Don't test her," Nadir laughed. "When a lady gets that sort of look on her face, you surrender."

"I'm teasing, Lara, relax." Gustave gave her another kiss before he turned back to me. "Papa, could...could you play something on the piano? I've missed hearing your music."

"Of course," I said, quickly getting to my feet. "Nadir, make tea and get out those biscuits that I bought only for them to just sit in the cupboard and never be eaten. This is the perfect occasion to finally make use of them."

"Is it the cookies in that tin that you're going to use to hold the sewing supplies that you have?" Nadir asked with a laugh.

"Yes, those ones. And the tin is useful, what do you expect me to do?" I asked as I walked into the sitting room with Lara and Gustave and sat at the piano. "Stop pestering me and go do it."

I glanced over at him just in time to see him roll his eyes at me before walking into the kitchen. Smiling to myself as I turned back to the piano, I set my hands on the keys and played the composition that came together in the moment. I had countless songs that I had put together before with hours of careful planning and rewriting, but with the joy and sheer relief that I was feeling, it was all I could do to play from my heart. The combination of my present feelings and the culmination of inspiration that had been pent up for three years made for a song that I knew would have to be written down and perfected, and when I looked at Gustave and Lara, it solidified that resolve.

The two of them had started to dance to the music I was playing, simply swaying back and forth, wrapped in each other's arms and enjoying the company and comfort of the embrace. Gustave had gotten so tall that he was resting his chin on top of Lara's head. I smiled at the couple, glad to know that my son had a chance at the love and affection with the woman he loved that I had never gotten an opportunity to have with Christine. As they danced, Gustave met my eyes and gave me a warm smile, which I was quick to return. Finally, my little family was almost whole again.

If only William and Christine had been there to see it.

"So we finally get to talk, just you and me," I said, sipping my drink as I sat in my armchair and smiled over at Gustave. Lara and Nadir had finally gone home, having lingered longer than usual to spend time with him. Not that I ever wanted to chase them out of my house, but I had been waiting to be alone with my son since he had arrived, so I was glad to finally have that chance.

"Yes, we do. I've missed getting to talk to you, Papa," Gustave replied. "There were so many moments, so many nights when I needed to talk to you and to have you with me, but...but I couldn't."

"Well, I'm here now, my boy. We can talk about anything you want," I prompted, wanting him to pour his heart out to me after so long of not being able to. "Tell me about your experience, now that we aren't barred by what you can and cannot tell me in a letter."

He nodded, taking a deep breath as he no doubt made an effort to collect his thoughts and memories about the past three years. "I know I was fortunate, that's for sure; now more than ever do I realize that. Getting to be in the division I was in, with decent barracks to sleep in and a safe workplace, for the most part, was a real blessing. We had heard horror stories about the fighting at the front and...we got lucky, we did.

"We were in the engineering division, as you know, so we were working on manufacturing planes to be shipped to the front. Running numbers, actual construction, that sort of thing. They gave us all training on how to interact with our commanders. They shaved our heads, as Lara drew so much attention to, in order to avoid lice infestations, or so they told us. And they gave us guns to have on us; a pistol in the holster on her hips. We...we were never supposed to have to use them. They were a precaution, a formality, but..."

I frowned when he trailed off and looked down at his lap. "But what, Gustave?" I asked gently. I had an inkling about what he was going to say, but I didn't want to entertain the thought. Not my son, it wasn't possible...he couldn't have killed a man, whether he was the enemy or not. I'd done everything in my power to ensure that he was not like me in that aspect of life. It was simply a game, there had to have been something else that he was referring to.

Gustave looked up at me then, a solemn expression on his face; his brows were furrowed, his eyes darker than normal. "Papa, could...could you pour me a drink, please?' he requested.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, taken aback by the request. Since he had been allowed to drink, he had never once asked to indulge in it. Not that I blamed him one bit, but I had never actually expected him to drink, never mind ask me to pour a drink for him. He made a point of avoiding any alcohol regardless of the event; he'd seen what it could do to people. I had no idea what was running through his mind at that moment, but I knew it had to carry some weight for him if he was asking for a drink before he told me.

"A drink. A glass of whiskey like yours, if...if you don't mind," he replied. I was tempted to question him further, but decided against it when I saw the serious look on his face; he meant what he had said and wanted me to follow through on his request.

"Alright. I'll be right back," I said, setting my glass down before making my way to the kitchen to get his drink. I had to forcibly steady my hands to ensure that I wouldn't drop the glass as I pulled it from the cupboard. As I poured a glass of whiskey for him, I tried to keep myself from jumping to conclusions about what he had to tell me. I needed to just trust him and let him explain everything to me himself; making assumptions would get us nowhere.

"Here you are," I said as I walked back in and gave Gustave the glass before I sat back down in my armchair. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"

"I actually don't know how to say this out loud..." he began before he fell quiet for another moment, simply looking down at the drink in his hand before taking a small sip or two. I waited patiently, not wanting to pressure him into saying anything he didn't want to. His mouth was moving like he wanted to speak, but no words left him. When he did speak, though, I immediately wished he hadn't when his words confirmed the earlier assumptions I had made: "I killed a man, Papa."

His voice was so quiet...so broken. It was glaringly obvious how much of a toll the event had taken on him; there was so much guilt on his shoulders that he had been carrying for weeks now, unable to share it with anyone. And for me to know that he too had blood on his hands at such a young age broke my heart. At his age and younger, I was the Khanum's 'Angel of Death' in Persia, the murderer of countless men and women. I had hoped that my son's life would be so different, that he would never need to know the feeling of taking another person's life. I had hoped that we would never be similar in that way, but the war had ripped that hope away.

"I...it all happened so fast," Gustave continued. "There was an attack on the bunker, and I was in the barracks and...and there was a German, and I just shot him. Right in the chest, I...I didn't even hesitate."

Noticing his glass starting to shake in his hand and hearing how tight his throat was getting as he spoke, I quickly moved to sit at his side on the sofa and wrap my arm around his shoulders. "It's alright, just take a deep breath," I said quietly.

"It...it was just a moment of blind rage. He was in front of me one minute and the next, my pistol is hot in my hand and he's dead on the floor. I don't even remember pulling the trigger, Papa," Gustave said. "But he was going to hurt Will, I...I couldn't let him hurt Will anymore."

"You weren't just protecting William, my boy. You were protecting yourself. Anyone would have done the same." I tried to provide him with that logic to help him rationalize his actions, though I didn't believe my words made much of a difference.

His face was buried in his hands; the tears were at the doorstep but still had yet to fall as he spoke: "Papa, what will everyone think of me?"

"What do you mean?" I queried.

"Didn't you hear me? I killed someone. I let Will die in front of me. I can't just keep something like that a secret from Lara or Maddie." He had raised his head to look me in the eyes as he spoke before returning to his previous position. "They'll all hate me. I'm a killer. It should have been me, Papa, it should have been me," he whimpered.

I pulled him close to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around him then, sighing as I heard him start to cry. I knew that he was finally getting a chance to openly express his grief to someone, and to me no less, so I knew to just let him cry, as much as it broke my heart to hear it.

"They could never hate you; they love you far too much. We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to," I said softly, gently rubbing his back as he cried into my chest. I realized then how similar the situation looked to the first time he cried after coming into my care all those years ago...eleven years ago, somehow. Had it truly been so long? We had been on the boat back to France from Coney Island after Christine's death. He had woken up from a nightmare about his mother dying, but had exchanged that for living the nightmare of his best friend dying. He had hugged me tight on that night as well, and I had felt his tears soak my shirt then just as I was all over again. It was a painful moment to see as a father, but I had no choice but to relive it.

"No, no. I want to. I need to talk about it with someone." His breath was so shaky but his face was going red with anger; he had been holding everything in for too long.

"It's alright. I'm right here and I am going to listen." I tried to reassure him that he was safe now, that it was okay for him to talk to me as he once had.

"Papa, they didn't even bother asking William's name when they found me with him! To them, he was just another number on a spreadsheet after the medics had done their job. Everything went on business as usual like nothing had ever happened!" he croaked, his breaths coming quick and shaky. "I had forgotten my notebook and asked him to go get it. Then there was an attack and I disobeyed orders to go find him, but...but he'd already been shot when I got there. I tried, but I...I couldn't help. There was so much blood, Papa, I couldn't stop it."

"Alright, it's okay," I said, tears welling up in my own eyes as I heard him choke back sobs while he recounted William's death. It had hurt so much just to know that he had been killed, but now to hear the details of it brought all my grief back to the forefront of my mind with a vengeance. "You did everything you possibly could, my boy, you have to know that."

"But it wasn't enough. I still let my best friend die. My brother is gone because I couldn't remember to bring my notebook to the workroom."

"You did what you could," I repeated. "It's true, you are never going to be able to replace that kind of friendship that the two of you had. That said, you have to know he's still with you in your heart, just as your mother is, and you know he wouldn't want you to drown yourself in his memory. Knowing William, he would want you to live your life to the fullest in every way humanly possible, just as he did."

We fell quiet for a moment then, with me still gently rubbing Gustave's back while he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down. Eventually, though, he found his voice and managed to speak again: "He always was the more outgoing of the two of us."

Both of us managed to laugh at that, relishing in the fond memory of William. "He was, indeed," I said, pressing a kiss to the top of Gustave's head. "Now, you need to get some rest, to sleep in your own bed. Let's go upstairs, alright?"

He simply nodded before he slowly got up onto his feet and let me wrap an arm around his waist to lead him up to his bedroom. "God, I've missed this room," he said quietly once we had stepped inside.

"I would think so. You and I have to open up your high school diploma and find a place to hang it up as well. For now, though, get changed and get some sleep. I'll be just next door if you need anything." I held his face in my hands, simply looking at him with a small smile before I pressed a kiss to his forehead, no longer having to bend down to do so. "I love you, Gustave."

"I love you too, Papa," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around me again. "Thank you for everything."

"Of course. Anything for you, my boy. Anything at all."

I had fallen into one of the best periods of sleep that I had had over the course of the past three long years, freed from nightmares and the simple inability to sleep at long last. However, I wasn't granted the privilege of enjoying it because I was jolted from my slumber by a scream from down the hall. I turned to look at the clock on my nightstand and noticed it was only midnight; we had hardly been asleep for an hour.

When I heard Gustave cry out again, I quickly got out of bed and hurried to his room, Sasha following at my heels. Stepping into the room, I turned his lamp on and noticed the cold sweat he had broken out in as he thrashed in his sleep, battling an enemy only he could see.

"Gustave, wake up, my boy," I said as I sat beside him and gently set my hand to his cheek with a sigh. I had never wanted him to be plagued with the night terrors as I always had been, but that was becoming yet another dream of mine that the war had shattered.

The simple gesture of me touching his face was enough to make him wake with a gasp, proving how light his sleep had been despite the nightmare. I hushed him as he gasped for breath, not failing to notice him whispering his best friend's name now and then. "You're alright, you're safe."

"But...but William," he choked out, fresh tears pooling in his eyes as he looked up at me and slipped his hand into mine. "I need to get to..."

"I know, I know," I whispered as I gently pulled him into a sitting position and hugged him tightly, managing a smile when I felt Sasha hop onto the bed and fit herself in between us to nuzzle her nose against Gustave's hand. When even that didn't help, I started to quietly sing the same song that I had sung to him for comfort since he came into my care after Christine's death, gently rubbing his back as he felt him relax slightly in favour of leaning heavily into me for support.

"I know it's difficult and I wish I could put your mind at ease, but you have me and Lara and Nadir to help you, alright? We aren't going to let you do this alone. We love you too much to allow you to suffer in silence. We're always there for you, mio soldatino. Now and forever," I whispered.

William's funeral was a couple of days later, and it was difficult right from the get-go. It had taken some time to get Gustave out of bed, and once he did wake up, he had moved around the house in silence. He hardly touched his breakfast, had gotten dressed quickly and quietly, and didn't say a word to the entire ride to the venue where the service was to be held.

While Gustave went off to get ready to assist in carrying the coffin, I found my way to sit with Madeleine and the others. Nadir and Lara had greeted me when I walked over, but Maddie didn't take her eyes off of her feet. Not that I blamed her; I could only imagine the sheer agony she was feeling as she was forced to live through the present moment. Elizabeth, on the other hand, noticed me right away and smiled up at me, so oblivious to the gravity of the situation at hand.

"Hi, Uncle Erik," she said, reaching over to me as I sat down beside her and her mother.

"Hello, princess," I replied, lifting her up and setting her on my lap. "How are you doing today?"

"Good," she said, setting her hand on my masked cheek. "Why is your mask black?"

"Just a little change. Not to mention that it fits my outfit a bit better than my white one, wouldn't you say?"

She looked at me for a moment, seemingly studying my face and the new mask that she wasn't used to just yet. "I like white best," she finally decided, turning around to sit on my lap just as the small group of musicians towards the front of the venue began to play.

"I see," I said, managing a quiet laugh as I got to my feet with Lizzie in my arms to see William's coffin be carried in. I was quick to wrap an arm around Madeleine, holding the place for her husband, who walked with Gustave and two of the boys' good friends, Anthony and Stephen, to carry William's coffin to the front of the room. The boys were dressed in their uniforms, Charles in a crisp suit, yet the one thing that united them all was the grief painted on their faces. Every footstep was heavy, every breath shaky. It was painfully obvious how many people William had touched and how many lives would never be the same.

The coffin was set at the front of the room, the lid opened, and while Anthony and Stephen returned to their seats with their families and Charles came back to join us, Gustave stayed at the front. He was to deliver a eulogy; he had prepared the speech when Charles had decided to let Gustave deliver it on everyone's behalf. He said he wouldn't be able to make it through the speech and that he trusted Gustave to deliver it beautifully and my son was eager to take up the task, wanting to do his friend justice. Now it was just a matter of waiting for his opportunity to deliver it now that the funeral day had actually arrived.

The service was well delivered, the speaker a seasoned one, though it was one of a Catholic nature, which made it the slightest bit strange for me, Still, I could tell that Madeleine, in particular, was truly finding solace in the scriptures being read. I hadn't intended to follow along, instead vouching to listen as the speaker read from and referenced the scriptures, but Lizzie was having none of that.

"We read too," she whispered, grabbing her own little Bible and giving it to me, then looked at me expectantly.

I gave her a small smile before I flipped to the right page, surprising myself with how quickly I was able to find the right book and chapter. I pointed out the verses in question, managing a smile as Lizzie aimlessly tried to follow along as it was read despite having no idea what the words said. Reading along as the minister continued his service, I understood how people could find comfort in them; it was a somewhat reassuring thought to hear that those they loved were in a heavenly realm with their god. I suppose I had simply become too calloused and had been too many times betrayed by religion and its leaders to believe it. Not that I was shocked about that; having your mother believe you had a demon and having a priest perform an exorcism on you when you were no older than five would do that to you.

The service soon came to a close, leaving Madeleine in tears even before Gustave stood up at the front of the room. I saw him take a deep breath, then glance in our direction, so I gave him a firm nod and noticed Lara do the same from where she sat next to me. Gustave nodded back at us, took a glance down at the notes in front of him with another deep breath, then looked back up at the room.

"William Edwards was my best friend," he began. "We first met when I had just started going to school in London; we were just twelve. I was in a new school, a new country, and I was scared out of my mind. On my first day, I accidentally introduced myself in French and not English because I was so nervous. Everyone laughed at me, but Will found me on the playground and asked if I was okay. After that, we were practically inseparable, doing absolutely everything together. He was so much more than my best friend; he was my brother. We knew each other better than anyone else. He knew how to calm me down if my anxiety got really bad, for instance. And I always knew that he was nervous before a school presentation when he would start tapping the Morse code of his script on his knee. His mind was always everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He wanted to get into the technology industry after we graduated. He wanted to see the world and stand on every continent. He wanted a family like the wonderful one he had.

"This setting, this whole ordeal seems so wrong for him. As we passed under the cold stares of sculpted angels and saints, I can't help but think about how William doesn't fit in here; he was so warm, kind, and gentle. Even still, I know that he is safe in our memories and that all of us will have a little piece of him with us, which is so incredibly important because I still need him. I need him more than ever, and I don't think I'm ever going to stop needing him. Still, a star in the night sky shines a little brighter now, fueled by his memory and the brightness he cast on everyone's lives, even though our days seem duller in his absence."

Polite applause followed the end of his eulogy, a sobbing Maddie and teary-eyed Charles the only ones who couldn't bring themselves to clap. I watched Gustave step down and look at his friend's body in the coffin for a moment before walking over to sit with Anthony and Stephen.

As everyone was invited to walk by the coffin and offer their final goodbyes, Lara quietly excused herself to walk over to Gustave and their friends. I looked down at Lizzie, watching her still aimlessly flipping through the Bible's pages.

"Elizabeth, sweetheart, go see Mommy and Daddy, alright? I'm going to go see your big brother, but they'll take you to see him as well, okay?" I said with a small smile.

"Okay," Lizzie said, setting the Bible aside and letting me put her down before she toddled over to her parents.

I watched Maddie pull her daughter onto her lap and hold her tight before I finally went with Nadir to join the line to view William's body. "It's going to be quite sometime before Madeleine finally comes back to us," I said quietly.

"It's to be expected. No parent recovers quickly from losing their child," Nadir replied. I looked over at him and noticed the distant look in his eyes as we gradually got closer to the coffin, and it was then that I truly realized just how difficult the entire day was for him. He had been in the same situation before, it was all too familiar for him; the pain and tears of having to bury his son were a vivid memory for him, and being present to see Madeleine and Charles do the same only made all of his grief as fresh as it had been all those years ago on the night when Reza died

"I'm sure that Madeleine and Charles truly appreciate you being here for them," I said as I set my hand on his shoulder. "They know how hard this is for you."

Nadir simply nodded. "I know. Let's just...get through this," he said, only to frown as he directed my attention to the coffin just in front of us. "That's Jane. Is she here alone?"

I looked over at the young girl standing by the coffin, clutching what looked like an envelope to her chest. "It seems like it. I can check on her," I said, stepping towards her. Jane was best friends with Lara, Gustave, and William, and I knew her well; she and some of their other friends often visited my home to do homework and chat, but she had often come to visit me to talk while the boys were away. I cared about all of them, so to see her alone pained me, especially because I knew how much she had loved William and their relationship, as short-lived as it had ended up being.

As I stepped closer, though, I stopped a short distance from, but within earshot of, her as I listened to the tearful farewell she was giving him: "Hello, my dear. I know that we weren't together very long, and I think that now, I might just regret every single day that I was too scared to say anything because I lost out on so much time with you. Now that you're gone, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself." I noticed her laugh quietly then, reaching out as if to touch him. "You know, you really don't look like yourself. Your hair is cut really short like you always hated and you wouldn't be caught anywhere in a suit like this. I can't help but be sorry that that's the case.

"Your letter was beautiful, by the way. Now I understand why it took so long for you to write it; I'm just glad to have a piece of you forever. Oh, I told your mother about us, by the way. She invited me over with Lara and we had a lovely time. You should have seen her face when she found out; she was ecstatic. Your little sister is an absolute delight and a treasure as well; I see so much of you in her. I promise that I will look out for her as best I can.

"I just wish we could have more time, William. So much was taken from us that we will never know...it just doesn't seem fair. But suppose we could have it all back; I can't help but wonder what would have been, but I guess now we'll never know. What I do know is that I love you, and I want you to know that as well; you will always have my heart. Goodbye, my dear. We truly did not deserve you."

As her words dissolved into quiet crying, I finally stepped over to her and wrapped my arm around her, only to end up hugging her properly when she turned and buried her face in my chest as she wept. "I'm sorry, Jane," I said quietly.

"I never even told my mother and father. They couldn't understand why I wanted to come so badly; I missed the service because they put up such an argument about me coming," she explained, her voice muffled by my shirt.

"But at least you came. He would have understood, you know that. He would have just been glad that you got a chance to say goodbye."

"I don't want to have to say goodbye. We weren't meant to have to say goodbye. Not like this, not so soon."

"I know, my dear. None of us were supposed to have to do that, but this, unfortunately, is the tragic reality we find ourselves faced with. Just remember how much he cared about you," I said, gently rubbing her back to try and soothe her as best I could. "Focusing on that helps, truly."

"It just hurts so much to see him like this. He's so...so pale. It doesn't look like him at all," Jane said, turning her head away from my chest to look at William's body.

"I know it doesn't, it's hard, I know. I've been in your shoes before, I know how much it hurts," I replied with a shaky sigh, trying to banish any memories of Christine's funeral in order to maintain my composure.

"I just don't know what to do," the young girl said, her throat starting to tighten up again as she spoke.

"I'll be honest, dear, it's going to feel like you don't know what to do for quite some time. Still, you need to look to the people who want to support you. I'm one of them, but I am nowhere near the biggest source of help; Lara and Gustave and the rest of your little group will be there, and you know that Madeleine and Charles will happily speak to you about this whenever you need to. We're going to help you."

Jane looked up at me then, managing to give me a smile. "Thank you, Erik," she whispered.

I nodded, pulling the handkerchief out of my breast pocket and offering it to her. "Of course, Jane. Anything to help you cope as best you can."

She quickly wiped her tears from her cheeks, then returned the handkerchief to me before she kissed my cheek. "I should be going. My parents will be waiting outside," she said quietly.

I gave her another nod, watching her go before I finally turned back to William's body. "Thank you for every lovely memory, William. I hope I was as much of a father to you as you were a son to me," I whispered, taking a moment to look at his face one last time before stepping over to where Madeleine stood a few feet away.

"How are you doing?" I asked as I wrapped an arm around her.

"Just about as good as you would imagine," she said, her eyes locked on the coffin as we watched Nadir say a few words to William before Charles walked up after him, Elizabeth in his arms.

"That's your big brother, William," we heard Charles say. He was holding his daughter with her back to his chest so she could see her brother, keeping her held tight to his body for the sake of comfort, no doubt.

"Hello," Lizzie said, opening and closing her hand to wave at her brother, seemingly unphased when he didn't wave back. Seeing that, followed by hearing Charles' quiet sob as he hugged Lizzie tighter, Madeleine burst into tears again and turned to face me so I could hug her tightly.

I watched Charles turn his daughter back around so she was facing him, but the confusion on the girl's face when she saw her father's tear-filled eyes was plain on her face. "Why are you crying, Daddy?" she asked.

"I will be okay, sweetheart. I'm just sad right now," Charles said, so obviously forcing himself to smile at his daughter.

"But why?"

"Sweetie...your big brother isn't going to be coming home with us. He has a new home to go to now, and Mommy and I are going to miss him very much. That's why I'm sad." A tactful explanation, indeed; to explain the concept of death to a two-year-old while also including a religious belief, all while his son was the deceased individual in question, was a difficult feat, but Charles handled it well. Or at least it seemed that way; I knew all too well that discussing death with one's child was difficult, no matter their age.

"Will he come visit us?" Lizzie inquired, the analogy of a home meant to reference heaven completely and unsurprisingly lost on her.

"He is going to be very busy and will be living very far away, so now, he won't be able to come to visit."

"But we can go see him, right?"

"It's a very special place where he will be living. It doesn't let people in until they are ready, and we won't be ready for a long time, but he will have everything ready for us when we get there," Charles replied.

"Okay. Do we say bye now?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, we do need to say goodbye, my darling. Be very brave for me, alright?" her father said.

"Okay. Bye-bye, William," Lizzie said, turning to face her brother and giving him another wave. "You say bye too, Daddy."

I noticed Charles bite his trembling lip as he nodded, her simple instruction for him to say goodbye to William enough to start to make his walls crumble. "Yes of course. Goodbye, William. I love you very much, my boy," he said, sounding almost painfully choked up as he waved to William along with Lizzie before briskly walking over to us and straight into Maddie's waiting arms.

As I set my hand on his shoulder for some sort of reassurance, I looked across the room and frowned when I saw Gustave. He hadn't moved at all; he was talking with his friends, even after they had said their last words to William while Gustave had stayed in his seat, and not once had he said a word to either Charles or Madeleine. I quickly found myself getting frustrated with him, well aware that he knew better than to keep his distance from them at a time like that. We would be having a few words about it at home, that much was for certain, and I was already praying that I would manage to keep my composure; the emotional state of two of my closest friends was in question, and I would not let my son be the reason why they became any more fragile than they already were.

As soon as Gustave and I walked into our home and the door was shut, I turned to him to voice the frustrations that had been plaguing my mind all day: "You didn't say one word to Madeleine and Charles the entire service. Why?"

He turned to me with a frown as he slipped off his shoes. "What?" he asked.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Gustave," I said, fighting to keep my irritation at bay. "Why didn't you speak to William's parents at all today?"

"I was busy, Papa. It slipped my mind," Gustave replied as he hung his coat up in the closet.

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "It slipped your mind to speak with the parents of the boy that the funeral was held for? Somehow, I don't believe that." His only response was to sigh and turn his back to me as he went to walk down the hall to the stairs, but that was the last straw for me.

"Gustave Destler, if you're smart, you will stop walking and look at me now," I said firmly, speaking through gritted teeth.

He listened to me, thankfully; I knew I wouldn't have been able to contain my anger much longer had he kept walking. "Yes, Papa?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean 'Yes, Papa?' Were you expecting my question to change?" I asked. "Why didn't you speak with Madeleine or Charles? And 'it slipped my mind' will not suffice as an answer."

"In that case, I'm avoiding it," he finally replied. "I don't want to talk to her about it, about any of it! Charles either, but her specifically."

"You fear she'll blame you for it? Look at you differently because you've killed a man?"

"Yes, and don't tell me I'm wrong to fear that! She doesn't know you've killed people, does she? All the people you assassinated in Persia?" Gustave demanded, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

My expression of anger quickly faded into one of confusion and shock as I processed what he had just said. "Where did you hear about that?" I asked.

"Uncle Nadir told me. Did you ever plan on telling me about your work as a political assassin for the shah? All the people you killed? Never mind the Angel of Music, they called you an Angel of Death!" Gustave cried. "You hide all of those actions from both me and Madeleine for years, but expect me to immediately come clean about the man that I killed? That's hypocritical, don't you think?"

Immediately, I found my anger resurging at the accusation. "I didn't tell you because you are my child and I don't want to revisit the darkest part of my life with you," I replied. "I was young and desperate for any source of validation I could get, and the shah was just that! I was an assassin, yes, but not because I wanted to be. I was abused, tortured, and drugged to do it! Clearly your Uncle Nadir didn't share my sentiments of feeling like I was drowning in blood, did he? As for your accusations of hypocrisy, I don't believe they are warranted. I hesitated to tell you about acts of murder I was made to commit; your tale is one of self-defence. Our circumstances are far from being even vaguely similar."

"But why should I tell her? I don't want her looking at me any differently and...and I don't want to talk about William," Gustave said.

"You know she wouldn't look at you differently, Gustave. With a war of this magnitude, awful things have happened. You went because you had to, killed for self-defence. There is nothing to hold against you," I said, my anger slowly beginning to subside again. "And you are well aware that she wouldn't blame you. She only wishes to speak to you, to hear about how you've been, all she's missed. She wants you to get to know little Elizabeth! And yes, there is an inevitable topic that will arise, but as painful as it may be, you owe it to William to talk to his mother. Maddie has already lost one son; don't let her lose another."

"How can I go to her?" Gustave demanded, an expression of desperation painted on his face as he looked at me. "How am I supposed to go to the mother of my best friend who I watched die with my own eyes?"

"You go to her like you would with anything else. It just might be possible that she's hurting just as you are," I said, taking a step towards him and setting my hand on his shoulder.

"That may be true, but how could seeing me possibly make her feel any better? She trusted me to keep him safe and I failed."

"You tried your hardest, did you not?"

"It wasn't enough," Gustave said quietly. "He's still dead."

I sighed, lifting my hand from his shoulder to his cheek. "Gustave, you must stop blaming yourself. You did everything you possibly could. This war has stolen countless young boys and no one is to blame but the war itself," I said.

"What does it matter if the war is to blame? It still happened and he died in my arms, just as Mother died in yours!" he exclaimed, pulling away from me and taking a few steps back. "William said his last words to me, I felt his grip loosen in my own. Just as you see Mother in your nightmares, I see Wiliam every single night. I see the blood, the smoke all around that room; it's like I never left! I could never face Madeleine knowing that she trusted me to keep Will safe and I couldn't. I couldn't keep my best friend safe, so how can I ever hope to keep Lara safe? And before you tell me off for thinking like that, don't, because I know you understand. You know what it's like to be holding someone you love so much and watching the light fade from their eyes. If I hadn't been there that night on the pier, would you have been able to tell me what happened? And don't you dare lie to me and say yes because I will see right through you."

I simply stared back at him in stunned silence, tears quickly filling my eyes. His words stung, and while I knew there was truth to them, what hurt more was how much like he was becoming. Him sharing my physical traits was one thing, but now all of this...blood on his hands, losing someone who meant the world to him, plus the new addition of carrying copious amounts of guilt on his shoulders. I had never wanted that for him; that had been one of my greatest hesitations as a young man when I had tried to explain to Nadir why I wouldn't have children. I hadn't wanted them to take after me in any way; not physically speaking or with respect to the life that they lived. And while he had escaped the physical aspect almost entirely, save the slight downturn of his face, Gustave was living mild recreations of events in my life and it broke my heart just to think about it.

My emotional reaction did not go unnoticed, as Gustave's expression quickly turned from one of anger to one of concern and regret. "Oh, I shouldn't have said those things. Papa, I..." he began to say.

"Do not bring your mother into this," I said abruptly, my throat getting almost painfully tight as I fought back tears; I wanted to cry but was too heated to do so. "This is between you, me, and a woman, who has loved you as her own for the past nine years of your life. She just lost her son, Gustave; the child that she carried for nine months, brought into this world and cared for all his life. A child whom I have thought of as my own for all these years, yet who never saw me without my mask. That is the only memory he has of me; one where I am wearing this godforsaken piece of porcelain! He meant so much to me, but he meant a million times more to his mother. You have every right to be scared and in pain, as that comes with grief, but you are not to forget who she is in all of this!"

My statement hit home for him as I had hoped it would, but I hadn't expected a sob to escape him as he crumbled to his knees. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't...then he wouldn't have...then none of this would have happened and we wouldn't have to have this conversation!" he sobbed.

"Shh, it's alright," I said as I knelt down in front of him and holding his face in my hands so he was looking at me even with the tears on my cheek. "Gustave, learn from someone who knows; placing the blame on yourself will only make the situation worse for you and your fragile heart. I don't want to have to sit back and watch you dig yourself a deeper grave every second. This isn't going to bring him back, and you know that he would scold you for blaming yourself as you are. We lose the people that are most important to us, even though we still need them. You and I saw that first hand with your mother. Still, the important thing is to keep living, even with the tragedies we've seen. It took me a long time to learn that, but I finally did when I lost Christine and found you. You can't drown yourself in tears, mio soldatino; you have to build the boat to sail across the river."

Without a word, Gustave hugged me tightly and buried his face in my shoulder, his tears falling onto my jacket. I simply lifted a hand to cradle his head, keeping my other arm wrapped around him. Even with the present mood, it warmed my heart to know he still wanted my comfort; a grown man or not, I realized that a child never really stopped needing their parent, and I was glad to be there when he needed me.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, holding each other tight as Gustave's tears finally started to slow down and his breaths evened out. I pulled away from our embrace and held his face in my hands again, brushing his tears away with my thumbs. "You need to get to sleep. You have had a long difficult day," I said.

"Yes, I couldn't agree more. Thank you for hearing me out, Papa, even if I did say some things that shouldn't have been said. I missed talking to you," Gustave replied, managing to smile at me as he reached up to wipe away a tear of my own.

"And I missed having your voice to listen to, mio soldatino. An empty nest is not for me," I said as I pressed a kiss to his forehead before helping him to his feet. "But off to bed with you now. We can talk in the morning."

"Are you going to go to bed too? I know today hasn't been particularly easy for you either," Gustave replied.

"Yes, I'll have to. I still have work in the morning. My personal life may have stopped without you, but business never sleeps."

He laughed at that remark, making me smile to see his cheerful attitude returning. "No rest for the wicked, right, Papa?"

"Ah, you've learned well, my boy," I chuckled.

"Well, I did have a great mentor," he said.

"Your flattery doesn't change the fact that we need to get to sleep. Go on," I said, giving him a gentle push down the hall towards the stairwell.

He laughed as he went, but when I slipped my shoes off and went to step into the parlour, I heard him clear his throat. I turned around to see him in the doorway, arms crossed. "You said both of you. I believe that includes you. Now let's go," he said.

"Telling me what to do, hm?" I asked. "You turn twenty-one and you're already bossing me around."

"Would you just come upstairs and go to bed? I'm trying to save you from your own bad decisions," he replied.

I laughed, throwing my hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Let's go get some sleep." 

~~~~~

updated: 11-29-20

word count - 10,133

I have a feeling something happened and this chapter got deleted, so here it is again