Author's note: So this one shot is sort of a Love Never Dies AU where Erik and Christine kept in contact over the 10 years they were apart. I don't recall if I outright said that fact in the one shot or not, so I'm just leaving that piece of info here for y'all just in case I didn't so that we can avoid confusion haha. I hope you guys enjoy! <3

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Coney Island, 1905.

"Gustave, darling, wake up," Christine whispered as she gently shook her son's arm, trying to quietly bring him back into consciousness. She watched as her son simply rolled onto his side, his back to her, and nuzzled his face into his pillow, and she sighed quietly. "Gustave, we're leaving. You're too big for me to carry, so you'll have to get up."

"Why, Mother?" Gustave mumbled, though Christine could barely hear his voice over her loudly beating heart. "I want sleep."

"I know, darling, but you have to get up. Please, this is important," Christine replied, her voice hinting slightly at impatience. "I have to go, and I refuse to leave you here, so you're going to have to get up."

Gustave sighed but opened his eyes halfway, and he looked up at his mother. "Why do we have to leave? Is something wrong, Mother?" he asked sleepily before he closed his eyes and yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth as he did so.

Christine searched her brain for some reason she could give him, but nothing came to mind. She couldn't bear to lie to her child, but the truth seemed too horrible to tell him. Even if she would have been able to lie to her son, her mind came up with no plausible options as for what she could say. After a few moments, though, she eventually decided to tell him simply: "We're going to visit a friend."

"Why? Is Father coming with us?" Gustave asked softly, opening his eyes once more as he slowly sat up.

Sighing again, Christine shook her head. "No, darling, he's not. I'll explain a bit later, alright? For now, you just have to come with me. You don't have to bother with changing your clothes; you'll be going back to sleep soon. Only put on your coat and shoes."

"Yes, Mother," Gustave replied with a nod as he pulled his legs out from underneath the sheets and climbed out of  bed. "Who are we visiting?"

"You haven't met this friend before. I'll introduce you once we get there, and I promise that I'm going to explain everything in due time. Just hurry  for me, Gustave, please. And try to be quiet if you can help it. I don't want to risk waking your father and having to explain to him where we're going," Christine sighed, sitting down on the side of her son's bed and folding her coat on her lap before she buried her face in her hands.

"Okay, I will," Gustave nodded, taking his coat from where it was draped over his suitcase. As he shoved his arms through the sleeves, he turned around to face his mother and frowned when he heard quiet sniffles coming from her direction. "Are you alright, Mother?"

"Yes, darling, I'm fine," Christine replied as she straightened her posture and gave her son a smile, though her eyes were brimmed with tears. "Are you ready to go?"

"Almost." Gustave slid his feet into his expensive Italian shoes and made quick work of the laces. He then hurried over to his mother and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'm ready now, Mother," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Thank you, mon petit ange," Christine replied, kissing his forehead and managing to give him a small smile. She waited for her son to pull away before she got to her feet and began to pull on her coat, following her son out of the room. When they had just about reached the exit of their hotel suite, though, she paused as a thought occurred to her, and she looked back at her son. "Gustave, get your suitcase."

"What?" Gustave asked with a confused frown, his brow creasing as he glanced up at his mother. "Why can't I just leave it here?"

"As I said, darling, I'm going to explain everything in time. But for now, please listen to everything I say and just humor me," Christine said softly. She watched as her son nodded and started back toward his room before she turned and crept into the bedroom she shared with her husband.

She treaded on the balls of her feet so as not to wake him up, fearing that he would become angry again at finding her trying to leave with Gustave. She didn't know exactly how he'd react - or if he would be too hungover to react, - but she was certain that she didn't want to find out. Thankful that her suitcase wasn't far from the doorway, she swiftly but quietly snatched the handle and carried it back out of the room with her. She thought she may have heard Raoul begin to stir, but she didn't bother to check. She knew that if she could just get out of the hotel in time, then everything would be perfectly fine, and she and Gustave would be safe.

As soon as she saw her son standing in front of the door, she managed to give him a small smile before she reached behind him to twist the doorknob and pull it toward her. "Let's go, darling," she said softly.

Gustave didn't say a word as he followed his mother out of the hotel suite. He watched her as she closed the door behind them and smiled slightly as she turned to take his hand. "Does Father know that we're going?" he asked quietly.

"Well...no, he doesn't," Christine sighed, removing her hand from her son's in favor of wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry, darling, it's all going to be alright eventually. I'm sorry for not being able to explain it to you now, but it's all...it's just too much for me to tell you right now."

"That's okay, Mother," Gustave said with a small smile, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, my wonderful Gustave. I love you very, very much, and don't you ever forget that," Christine replied, staring straight ahead of them while they walked. She tried to hide the tears pooling in her eyes as they made their to the hotel lobby and quickly departed from the building.

The Coney Island night air was rather chilly, causing Christine to tighten the arm around her son in an attempt to keep him warm. She was beginning to wonder if walking had been a mistake. She should have just paid for a cab to take them to their destination, she told herself. However, she knew that where they were heading wasn't too far away, and she silently hoped that they would arrive there soon.

They walked on for about eight minutes or so in silence, the only sounds coming from their shoes repeatedly slapping on the pavement, but they eventually arrived at a large iron gate with a metal sign arching over the top that simply said "Phantasma".

"Mother, isn't this the amusement park you told me of earlier? Why are we here?" Gustave asked, stopping in his paces and frowning as he turned to Christine.

She sighed and nodded, but only replied: "You'll see in a moment." Pulling an arm away from her son, she produced a key and inserted it into the padlock, then turned it until she heard a gentle click. The lock came off in her hands, and she took the heavy chain out from between the bars of the gate before she opened it just enough for the two of them to slip through.

"Are we committing some sort of a crime?" Gustave asked in a hushed tone as he hurried into the amusement park, stopping to wait as his mother replaced the lock and chain.

"No, of course not, darling. The person we're going to visit lives here. That's why I have a key; he gave it to me," Christine replied with a sightly forced, quiet laugh, picking up her luggage again and wrapping her arm around her son. "We're almost there, alright? Just come with me. You'll be able to sleep once you arrive, I promise."

Gustave nodded and gave her a small smile before he covered his mouth, yawning as he did so. "Good, I'm sleepy," came his soft reply.

Christine managed a smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she led her son down the streets of the amusement park. Eventually, she brought him to a path that led away from the park, all the way to another large iron gate. In the distance, the two of them could see a house at the end of the path, a few lights lit up on the inside.

"Oh, thank God, he's still awake," Christine said with a breathy sigh of relief as she produced a second key from her pocket.

This key was different than the one that unlocked the previous gate. This one was a bit larger in size, and while it was still made of metal, it was coated in black paint. The top had been molded into the shapes of a skull and a rose, and it was heavier than the first key. It was certainly a very strange thing to behold.

What sort of thing is unlocked with a key such as that? Gustave thought, but he wasn't sure whether or not he truly wanted to know the answer. Still, he knew that his mother would surely never lead him into certain danger, so he chose to trust her. As he watched his mother insert the key into the lock and twist the skull, he decided that the key was only meant to look strange and intimidating to keep people out. Why that would be the case, he had no clue, but he supposed that he would find out eventually.

Once Christine had unlocked the gate and they had stepped inside, she made sure everything was secured once more and slipped both keys back into her pocket. She turned to her son then and gave him another smile, gently cupping his cheek with one hand. "You look so tired," she said softly.

"That's because I got pulled out of bed," Gustave replied, feigning an annoyed sigh before he chuckled quietly. "Can we go up to the house now? It looks really pretty, and I want to see it up close."

"Yes, Gustave, we can go," Christine replied with a small smile. Taking a deep breath, she began to lead her son up the gradually inclining path.

It was just long enough so that the home on the hill was clearly separated from the park, but not quite so long that it seemed needlessly far away. It felt like it took a few minutes to actually reach the house, but Christine had suspected that it only seemed that way because of the chill in the air that bit at her cheeks and ears. No matter how long it took, though, she felt a bit of a genuine smile tug at the corners of her lips as they finally arrived. There was a certain sense of relief she felt creep into her heart, causing it to stop pounding as hard as it had been throughout the journey here. She knew that once they were inside, they could just shut the rest of the world out, and she wouldn't have to worry about harm coming to her - at least for the time being.

After she and her son had stood silently for a moment, simply admiring the architecture of the beautiful home, Christine reached out and rang the doorbell - which they noticed to be more melodious than the typical ding dong one would usually hear. They waited for a minute or two, but nothing happened. She tried the doorbell again and paused, but once more, received no answer.

The pounding of her heart returned. She hadn't considered the possibility that her friend might not be home. What would she do if he wasn't? Surely, she couldn't go back to her hotel suite. Not yet. She couldn't bear to spend the night sleeping beside her husband. Not after the events that had transpired previously that evening. She still hadn't gotten over the initial shock of everything, and she knew that she needed to be away from Raoul. And beside all of that, if her husband had indeed woken up and realized that they were gone, she knew that an argument would ensue if she returned. No, she couldn't return to the hotel. However, it was beginning to seem as though she didn't have any other option.

Just as she was beginning to give up hope, the front door opened at last, and she felt so relieved that could have broken down crying right on the spot. However, she decided it best to keep her composure for the time being and resolved to do exactly that.

The tall, brooding figure of a man was revealed as the door opened further, and he sighed, running a hand over his face. "You have some nerve to interrupt me while I'm composing," he said with annoyance dripping from his voice, only for his eyes to widen and his tone to soften when he saw the familiar woman standing before him. "Christine, what are you doing here? At this hour? This wasn't part of our plan."

"I know, I know, and I'm terribly sorry. I'm aware that this is such an intrusion, but I...I needed to see you. It's a rather important matter, I'm afraid," Christine replied softly, an expression that could only be described as hopelessness overcoming her facial features. "Erik, please, I need you."

There was something about hearing those words that made the man's breathing hitch in his throat, but he quickly recovered himself, nodded, and opened the door further. "Of course, my dear. Please, come inside." He waited for the two to step into the foyer of his home before he closed the door again and took both of their suitcases. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"Gustave could use a place to sleep. If it isn't too much of am imposition on you, that is," Christine said with a quiet sigh as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders. "Other than that, I believe some tea might be in order after the evening I've had. I could use something to steady my nerves."

"Of course, love. Gustave sleeping here isn't an imposition at all; I have a guest room that he is more than welcome to stay in," Erik said with a nod, turning to the boy with a small, almost awkward smile. "But where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself. To my employees and customers, I am known as Mister Y. However, you, my boy, may call me either Erik or Monsieur Destler. You may choose whichever suits you best."

"Thank you," Gustave replied softly. In truth, he wasn't quite sure which he preferred. For the time being, he resolved to avoid addressing the man as anything whenever possible and make his choice on what to call the him in the morning. He was far too tired for any sort of social interaction, in truth, and was very much looking forward to climbing into what he hoped would be a soft, warm bed to get some sleep.

Erik gave the boy a nod and sent a fleeting glance in Christine's direction before he began to lead the child toward the stairs. They ascended to the second floor in silence, mostly due to the fact that Erik wasn't quite sure what to say to the boy. However, he could plainly tell that Gustave was very in want of rest, and he reasoned that the child probably wouldn't care to converse with him at the present time. With this observation in mind, he showed the boy into the guest room and set his suitcase by the bed. "I hope this will be suitable for you," he said with a short nod. "There are extra blankets in the bottom drawer of the dresser, and if there's anything else you need, your mother and I will be in the parlor."

"Thank you, Monsieur," Gustave replied quietly, stifling a yawn as he climbed onto the bed.

Not knowing what to say, Erik stepped toward the door and lingered by the threshold for a moment to look back at the boy. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he noticed that the child had already fallen asleep. He forced himself into resisting the unfamiliar urge he felt to go over and make sure the boy's sheets were adjusted properly for maximum comfort. Instead, he turned out the light and stepped into the hallway before he shut the door behind himself.

After a quick stop in his own bedroom to leave Christine's suitcase in there, he returned downstairs, finding the woman already in the parlor. "So," he said quietly with a careful exhale, "that's our son."

"Yes, it is," Christine said with a nod, not bothering to look up at him. "Is he everything you expected him to be?"

"Oh, that and far more, and I'm sure that I'll think even more highly of him once we've had a proper conversation tomorrow morning," Erik said with a quiet laugh as he stepped over to the sofa and sat on the cushion beside Christine's. "Now, what brings you here at this ungodly hour?"

Christine sighed heavily and shook her head as she buried her face in her hands. "I don't even know where to begin. It's all just so horrible, I can't...I don't know how he could do this to me," she replied, her voice breaking at the end of her sentence. "I don't know where I went wrong."

"Hold on, we'll have none of that," Erik chided softly, hesitantly reaching over to set a hand on the small of her back. "I assume we're talking of the Vicomte, and if I'm correct, then I can guarantee that he is entirely at fault for whatever is wrong. Please, don't blame yourself, my angel."

"Thank you, Erik, it means a lot to hear someone say that," Christine said quietly, and after a few moments, she removed her face from her hands so that she could look him in the eye. She searched her mind for the words to begin telling him of everything that had happened that night, but she found nothing there. Her mouth couldn't even begin to form a sentence. It was all far too horrible, and the thought of having to tell it all to someone else created the all-too-familiar anxious feeling in her stomach like a wild animal burrowing its way deep inside of her.

She knew, though, it was imperative that she disclose it all to him. She knew that getting all of it off of her chest would allow her the relief and emotional release that she so desperately needed. It was too much for her to bear alone any longer, and she craved to share her burden with someone. Above all, she knew that if there was a soul in the world she could share something so terrible with, Erik was that soul, and he would be there for her.

She took a few more silent moments to collect herself, and he sat quietly by her, knowing full well that she would explain everything in due time if he only waited. As he did so, he simply watched her and would give a small smile every time her eyes flitted from her lap up to him. She took comfort in each of his smiles, and eventually, she had collected her thoughts enough to begin explaining the situation. "Raoul...is having an affair," she said at long last. "He told me tonight."

Erik's eyes immediately widened, but there was more than just a look of surprise in those glowing blue orbs. Had one not known him well, it would go unnoticed, but to someone who had been as close to him for as long as Christine had been, easily perceptible was the look of burning hared and raw, almost animal anger.

He wanted to kill Raoul, Christine realized, and in that moment, she considered letting him.

In a matter of mere seconds, though, Erik's anger quickly dissolved into a look of compassion and empathy as he gazed upon the woman before him. All he replied to her was, in a gentle tone, "Go on."

Christine nodded and took in a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions to a minimum as she continued: "As you and I had discussed at our little clandestine lunch this afternoon, I had planned to tell Raoul after dinner that I was to be singing here at Phantasma instead of at Oscar Hammerstein's new opera house." She looked down at her lap, fiddling idly with her wedding band as she spoke. "After dinner, though, he decided to go down to the hotel bar. I would have stopped him, but I know better than to try to prevent him from leaving when I know he's craving a drink." Christine sighed then, taking another deep breath as she continued: "I decided it was best to just wait, so I spent the rest of the evening listening to Gustave play piano, and since Raoul doesn't particularly relish hearing him play, Gustave enjoyed the chance to have time to perform his music. I enjoyed it too, I must admit. After a little while, though, he had gone to bed, and I decided I could wait for Raoul to talk to him alone." Christine let out another sigh, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know why I expected him to not come back drunk, but he did, and before I could finish telling him about our change in plans, he told me that he had a change in plans...regarding our marriage."

Erik ran tense fingers through his hair and shook his head, reaching over with his free hand to gently grasp one of hers. It hurt him deeply to see the love of his life so hurt and crestfallen. "I'm so sorry," he finally said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Christine nodded to acknowledge his comment, now beginning to struggle to prevent the tears in her eyes from falling. "He...he said that he'd been with this woman for the past few years now," she said quietly. "He told me that he was planning to leave me with Gustave and make this little tart the new Vicomtess de Chagny. They were just waiting for the right time. I...I don't know how to feel." At that, she felt Erik give her hand another gentle squeeze, and she turned to him then as her tears spilt down her cheeks. "Part of me wants to be angry with him, but I just feel extremely hurt by everything. I don't understand why this happened to me." She finally managed to look him in the eye again, only to let out a sigh and shake her head. "God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be burdening you with all of this. I...I just thought that you might be the only person who understands what this is like."

Erik nodded and removed his hand from hers, moving closer so that he could pull her into a tight hug. "It's alright, my angel," he said, his tone gentle and soft as he rubbed circles on her back with one hand. "I understand your pain completely. You'll always be understood when you're with me. That's a promise."

It felt good for Christine to hear those words. For years - her whole life, it seemed, - she had always felt alone in the things she experienced. It had always seemed like there wasn't anyone to turn to, because no one knew the pain she had been through - that she had been put through at the hands of others.

But he knew.

He knew what it was like to be lied to. He knew what it was like to be cheated and used. He had experienced the emotional trauma and the pain that came after—the loneliness, the feelings of betrayal, the doubt of self-worth, the wondering of what had been done to deserve such treatment. All of it.

For as much pain as she was in emotionally, she found comfort in his embrace. Having his arms wrapped so strongly and securely around her made her feel as though no more harm could come to her. She knew with intense conviction that he would never let anyone hurt her—including himself. Not a soul could describe the relief she felt at knowing that she finally had a person in her life who wouldn't leave her, would abuse her loyalty, and wouldn't take her for granted. He wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't treat her like yesterday's crumpled up newspaper, wouldn't take advantage of her.

Oh, the relief she felt. It was like nothing she had experienced before.

She finally removed her face from the crook of his neck after what seemed like a long while, and she tilted her head back just enough to look up at him. "Thank you, Erik," she managed to whisper, more tears filling her eyes.

Erik watched as a tear began to escape down her cheek, and he leaned his head down to gently kiss it away. "You're very welcome, my angel," he said softly, his lips very close to her ear as he leaned his head against hers, as though his words are only for her to hear. "I'm so sorry for all you've been put through."

"I'm sorry that you've been put through the same horrible things," Christine said quietly as she slowly took in the scent of his cologne. "And...and I'm so sorry for the part that I've played in that."

"Shh, none of the matters now," Erik whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple before he pulled her head to his chest and ran his fingers gently through her brown curls. "I love you very much, my Christine, and I will always be here for you."

"That's all I ask of you," she replied with a heavy sigh.

Erik gave her a gentle squeeze as he set his chin atop her head, smiling slightly at being able to have her so close to him. "God, give me courage to show you, Christine, you are not alone."