As Gustave looked around the dock he found it puzzling how he had gotten there. So much had happened in the past few days.

Why it felt like only yesterday he had arrived here with both mother and father.

There had been no secrets, no pain or betrayal.

But there also had been no music. Music so strong and powerful and marvelous. Before he had only heard it. Now he felt it, down into the deepest sensations of his soul.

As he looked at the boat, it dawned on him that now he left with neither mother or father as he knew them those many weeks ago.

His mother was frail, recovering slowly, but her smile was tired and worn.

Yet something still glowed happily in her face. When Erik would look at her, hold her hand, nod at her, her eyes would return to their former glory. It was if this opening bars played again.

Erik was doing his utmost for Gustave, and as he packed and fretted and stressed he was for the most part successful. Occasionally he lost his temper or raised his voice but not once had he hurt the boy beyond the repair of a new song and a hurried apology.

Gustave forgave freely. 

He had seen his mother stir awake in few moments of consciousness, the way she smiled when Erik kissed her and held her.

He hugged his stuffed bear tightly. He was glad to still have the bear named Erik, it reminded him of old times in a good way.

"Two to Paris our tickets are right here," Erik said, hiding his face as a man took his luggage.

Erik pushed Christine's wheelchair gently over every hill and trouble.

"Erik you needn't be so careful." she laughed fixing the blanket on her lap. "I'm much better already."

Erik looked her over skeptically and then gestured for Gustave to take his mothers bag.

They left under nightfall to escape the press and prying eye, trailing in the shadows and speaking with Christines voice rather than Eriks to those who questioned. 

Gustave felt watched all the same. He was used to attention, being the young Vicomte, but this was different.

He wasn't normal anymore, he doubted he ever had been.

As they left that cursed dock, The captain escorted them to their cabin.

When Raoul had escorted the two to America the room was small and dirty but Erik's room was majestic and beautiful.

Two beds were on the furthest wall, bright pictures of far-off worlds and adventures framed every view, there even sat a small chess table at the foot of the bed.

"Oh!" Christine cried upon entering. "Oh, Erik I don't deserve it."

Gustave gawked and grinned for the first time weeks. "It's beautiful."

Erik nodded quietly, his shyness and timidity had come back to him in the time of Christine's recovery. "Yes, Gustave. Yet, not even this room is as beautiful as your mother."

Gustave noted his mother looked sad when he spoke of her, but there were so many a better question to ask.

"What is your name?" Gustave asked in curiosity after the luggage had been put down and the help left the three runaways alone.

"Erik," he said, "Erik Destler." 

 The room was silent as the young boy pondered that for a moment.

Christine smiled. How she loved the hear him speak. No longer was his voice the brash, thunderous youthful anger it had once been. While that anger, that passionate fury was the first to spark love in her heart she preferred this side of him. Her artist, her teacher.

"That means my name must be Gustave Destler, right."

Erik thought about that for a moment and then smiled.

"Yes I suppose it does" he nodded.

"Come," Gustave said, taking his mother's hand, let's go find a piano. There's something I wish to show you."

Erik smiled to himself as Gustave carefully assisted his mother out of the room.

Erik had packed his things in a very orderly fashion and was now hanging up his clothes in the same manner.

Once he had finished he began to walk the deck in search of a music room.

Eriks topped at one specific door and listened in breathless delight. Gustave was talking away happily. More than Erik had ever heard him speak before.

"I've had this song stuck in my head for ages, I mean only for a couple of days. At first, I just had the melody but now I've pretty much finished. I'm thinking about calling it an ode to...well I'm not exactly sure." Gustave chattered to his mother, "How did you and Erik meet? If Erik's my father then why did you marry Raoul? Mother, are you listening?"

Christine smiled softly, her son had many questions, ones she was more than happy to answer but now was not the time or place.

"We shall discuss matters later Gustave" she in a motherly tone.

Gustave nodded obediently.

Erik decided perhaps it was best to seat himself in the back of the music room, in sight but out of the thought of the mother and son.

They sat for a number of minutes before Gustave began to ask questions again.

"If a g minor chord can become g major why cant you alternate between the two keys in the same measure?"

Erik pondered the question and was about to answer when Christine's soft voice flowed from the piano.

"You can dearest, but it would be simpler to write an accidental fitting the key of the piece."

Erik grinned to himself. "The student becomes the teacher."

He had taught her well. And she had not forgotten.

Gustave stopped his composing and went over to his mother's chair, kneeling beside her.

"Why did you stop me talking earlier mama?"

She looked down at him contemplating her response.

"There are some people that are not understanding of our circumstances," she explained to him choosing her words with great care.

"Oh," he said his brow furrowed much like Eriks was when he was deep in thought.

"Now," Christine said with a joyful glance in Erik's direction, "We must go to dinner."

Erik marveled at his beloved. How had she always been able to sense his presence even when the shadows hid his form entirely? 

Of course, Christine knew the answer, she only ever saw him, dark or light, day or night made no difference. His soul, his music shown through.   

She remembered long nights together of practice, watching his hands as he conducted her through various pieces, the gentleness of his voice as he coached dictation.

"I'm not hungry. I must finish this piece." Gustave said stubbornly, snapping her for her recollections.

"Now Gustave you must eat."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because a boy your age needs food to grow."

Gustave stopped and thought about that, she had seemed to finally stumped him.

"But what if I do not wish to grow, what if I want to stay ten forever, then I shan't eat."

"Gustave," Christine sighed in exasperation "Come and eat this instant."

Erik rose slowly and walked over beside her, placing a reaffirming hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Erik." she sighed in a breathless murmur.

"Let him eat when he pleases. He is safe here."

Christine's eyes filled with fear, "Erik...I don't want to leave him. Not after-"

Erik nodded and took her hand firmly, "He has to do some things alone Christine."

Gustave looked pleadingly to his mother and she gave a sigh.

"Alright." She gave in. How she hated to leave Gustave, but still, after everything it was a welcome break. Perhaps the first one in years.

Finally sometime with Erik alone.

Off they went to dinner, Erik pushing Christine's chair slowly and tenderly.

Leaving the hurt behind.