"Papa?" Gustave asked from outside Erik's bedroom door. "Are you ready to go?"

Erik took a deep breath as he straightened his jacket in the mirror. In all truthfulness, he was nowhere near ready to go. He had forced himself to get out of bed that morning. Every step he took throughout the day was difficult because he didn't want to think about having to watch Christine be buried. Still, his answer to his son didn't reflect any of that. "Just about. One moment, Gustave."

"Okay," Gustave nodded. "I'll wait."

Erik took one last look in the mirror, surprised that he could bring himself to do that at this point in time, before he slipped his ring back onto his little finger and went over to the door to open it.

"Don't you look handsome," he said to his son.

"Thanks," Gustave sighed, studying his shoes. "Can we get this over with, please?"

With the crook of his finger, Erik tipped his son's face up so their eyes met. "It's going to be alright, my boy."

"I hope so," Gustave nodded. "Come on. We should leave."

"Okay. Let's get going." Erik walked downstairs, Gustave following close behind him, and opened the front door, stepping up and looking back into the house to see the boy practically dragging his feet. "Gustave, come on."

"I know, I know," the boy sighed, reluctantly picking up his pace a bit.

"Hang on." Erik placed his hand on Gustave's shoulder to prevent him from speeding past. "Look at me."

Gustave stopped and looked up at his father. "Yes, Papa?"

"What's going through your mind? I can practically see the little gears turning in there," Erik said softly.

"I just don't want to see Mother be buried. That's all," Gustave replied simply.

Erik nodded. "I understand. Just try to keep your chin up, alright? You'll get through this," he assured.

Gustave nodded. "Okay, Papa."

Erik bent down in front of his son and took his face in his hands. "We'll do it together," he promised.

Gustave wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "Thank you, Papa."

"Of course." Erik gave his son a tight hug, rubbing his back. "Now, we really do have to go. I do not want to be late by any means."

"Alright," Gustave nodded, taking his father by the hand and walking with him to the carriage.

The ride didn't take long, as the church where the funeral service was to be held wasn't too far from their home, but the silence between the father and son duo made it seem endless. Neither of them quite knew what to say, as they feared that their emotions would bubble over with any word that the other said. Erik kept his eyes on Gustave, though, making sure he was holding up alright the entire ride.

Once they arrived at their destination, they were greeted by the last person either of them wanted to see - Raoul. "Hello, gentleman," he nodded. "How are the both of you holding up?"

"Just fine, Monsieur," Erik replied quickly, almost instinctively pushing Gustave behind him.

"Well, I suppose we should get on with this rather unpleasant event," Raoul sighed. "There are seats reserved in the front."

The service was nice and well delivered. The minister was a seasoned speaker, which put Erik a bit at ease. Everything was civil and just as it should have been.

As it ended, he looked at Gustave, who had kept his emotions to himself the duration of the service. "How are you?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," Gustave sniffled. "I'm glad she got a fine turn out. I guess a lot of people wanted to pay their respects."

Erik nodded. "I agree. It was very nice. With a talent such as hers, though, I am not surprised," he said. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll be alright," Gustave sighed.

"Okay." Erik gave his shoulder a gentle pat before he noticed Raoul watching the two of them from across the room. "Given the way the Vicomte is staring at me, I'm beginning to sense he wants to talk to me for some reason. I'll be back."

"Alright," Gustave nodded. "Go ahead."

"Just stay right here." Erik smiled at him as he got to his feet and walked across the room to where Raoul was standing. "Well, you've stared at me hard enough to bring me over here. What is it?"

"I just wanted to know how to two of you have been getting along," Raoul nodded.

"Just fine. He's my child, why wouldn't I get along with him?" Erik asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm just concerned about how he's been after...everything that happened in Coney Island," Raoul sighed. "I'm not always a monster, Erik. Give me a little credit."

"Alright, sure. We'll have a civil conversation for once in our lives," Erik replied. "He's been...okay. Coping with it as well as a ten-year-old can, so there have been a fair share of tears."

"Poor child," Raoul replied, shaking his head. "No boy should have to lose their mother so tragically."

"My sentiments exactly. That's not to say that I've had personal experience, so I'm trying to pull sympathies out of thin air."

"Well, I'm sure you're doing your best," Raoul nodded, checking his watch. "I should go. I have a few things that still need to be taken care of."

Erik smirked a little. "A comment that was meant to compliment me rather than insult. I'm impressed," he nodded.

"Well, forgive me for not thinking of a good insult. I'll draft one up and have it sent to your home by Tuesday," Raoul smirked. "Have a good day now. Take care of Gustave."

After a short pause, Erik got himself to extend his hand for the Vicomte to shake. "I will certainly do my best," he said with another nod.

Raoul gave his hand a firm pump. "I'm sure we will cross paths eventually."

"I'm sure we will." Erik dropped his hand back to his side and watched Raoul walk away before he made his way back over to Gustave. "That went...surprisingly well," he reported.

"Really?" Gustave asked with a curious little frown. "How about you tell me on the way home? We're the last ones here, it appears."

Erik glanced around, finding the chapel completely vacant. "Well, it would certainly seem that way," he said.

"Can we go now?" Gustave asked with a shaky breath. "Please?"

"Yes, yes, let's go." Erik quickly started collecting his things, pressing a kiss to the top of Gustave's head. "It's alright, just take a deep breath. Come along." 

Once they were gone, a young woman stepped from the shadows and approached Christine's casket. "Hello," she said quietly, tears running down her pretty face. "Oh, Christine...I wish he had met. I wish I would have insisted on meeting before you left for Coney Island...now, we'll never-" her voice broke as a small sob escaped her lips. Quickly recollecting herself, she took a ring off her finger and continued. "This belonged to our mother. I want you to be buried with it," she said as she slipped the ring onto Christine's cold, lifeless finger, tears spilling freely. "Oh, Christine..."

—————

"Gustave, I think I left my gloves behind, I'll be right..." Erik slowed to a stop when he walked back into the room where Christine's casket was and set his eyes on a young woman standing over it. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mademoiselle."

The girl looked up suddenly. "No, no, don't apologize. I was just leaving. Good day, Monsieur."

"It's alright, there's no need to rush out. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's fine, Monsieur. I've experienced worse," the girl sighed, playing with her hair. As she did so, she unwittingly revealed a set of painful looking scars on the back of her neck.

Erik frowned at the sight of them, but said nothing. He knew too well about being questioned concerning one's looks. "I didn't see you during the service," he said.

"I was in the back. I got here late. The bloody carriage driver had trouble finding the place," the girl said with a roll of her bright blue eyes. "I guess he's new. In my opinion, he should be sacked anyway."

Erik smiled. "He was that awful, was he?" he asked. "It's been a few years since I've lived in Paris, so I'm afraid I'm a little unfamiliar with the quality of the carriage drivers."

"Heavens, don't get me started. I don't think he could have walked in a straight line without a map," the girl laughed. "I apologize, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Daaé."

Erik's breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to extend his hand to her. "Erik Destler," he said. "I'm sorry, did you say your last name was Daaé?"

"Indeed," Charlotte nodded, shaking his hand. "Christine and I were sisters."

"I-I beg your pardon?" Erik stuttered. "Christine didn't have a sister, you must be mistaken. I knew her for...for years, and she said she had no other family after the death of her father."

"She didn't know I existed until just before she left for Coney Island, though we never met. It was a brief telephone call," Charlotte sighed. "I'm afraid it's all terribly complicated."

"I would imagine. Care to enlighten me?"

"My mother died at my birth," Charlotte explained. "She was able to hold me for a moment and give me my name, but she didn't make it much longer. I was a...sickly child and they didn't think I'd last, so they told my father I'd passed on too and they later gave me off to an orphanage in London. I got adopted by a family from Italy when I was fourteen, but ran away two years later and went back to London, where I met a man who helped me discover my heritage. He helped me to discover that my sister was alive and living in Paris, so he told me to stay underneath the Opera Populaire, where an old friend of his once lived. I moved here when I was nineteen and it took me awhile, but I finally found Christine and was able to get her phone number from someone. I called her and explained my story. We arranged to meet after she got back from Coney Island. We can all see how that turned out."

"Yes, that we can," Erik said softly with a glance at the casket. "Quite the story. I'm glad to finally find someone whose life has been as busy as my own. And I'm sorry, but did you say you lived beneath the Opera House?"

"I did," Charlotte said hesitantly. "It's...it's functional, to say the least."

"And the man that brought you up in London who mentioned that home's old inhabitant...what was his name?"

Just as Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, Gustave came through the front door. "Papa, aren't we going?" He asked softly.

Erik glanced back at the boy, noticing the small frown on Charlotte's face when he appeared. "Yes, I'm sorry, Gustave. Just a moment," he nodded.

"Who's this?" Charlotte asked, turning to Erik for an answer.

"This is Gustave, my son. The son I...I shared with Christine," he explained quietly.

"You mean to tell me that this is my sister's son?"

Erik simply nodded, waving the boy over to his side and wrapping his arm around his son.

"Wow," Charlotte said breathlessly. "I...I should go. It was lovely meeting you."

"Charlotte, hold on," Erik said, gently taking hold of her arm.

Before he could speak again, though, Gustave piped up, asking, "Did you call my mother your sister?"

"I did," Charlotte nodded, though she offered no further explanation.

Gustave turned to his father. "This is my aunt?"

"Yes, it is, my boy," Erik replied with a small smile.

Charlotte gave him a small smile, and Erik couldn't help but notice how much like Christine she looked. "I'm Charlotte," she said to Gustave.

Gustave was definitely a bit shocked, so Erik gently bumped him with his elbow. "Remember your manners, young man. Don't stare, introduce yourself," he said softly.

"Oh, yes, sorry. I'm Gustave de Chagny, but my Papa's last name is different," Gustave then replied with a smile. "We're going to fix that soon."

"Yes, I seem to remember my sister being married to the Vicomte," Charlotte nodded. "Don't bother explaining that one. I can fill in the details on my own. Well, it's getting late and I'm sure you both have things to do, so I'll take my leave. It was lovely to meet both of you. Really," she smiled.

"Charlotte, hold on. I can tell this is all a bit overwhelming, you're looking very pale. Why don't you join us in our carriage and we can get back to our house? We can speak more there, after I've gotten Gustave to bed."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that," Charlotte stammered.

"Really, it's alright. I wouldn't mind getting to speak to you more," Erik said with a small smile.

"Alright, then. It's not like I have any other plans," Charlotte chuckled. "Thank you, Monsieur."

"My pleasure. So, Gustave, you'll go to bed when we get home, okay?" Erik said, looking down at his son.

"I guess," Gustave sighed.

"You have had a long couple of days, young man. You need your rest."

"Alright," Gustave nodded. "I'll go to bed when we get home. But I would like to get to know you, Charlotte."

Erik smiled. "We both would really like to get to know you," he said. "Come along. Just take it slow, you're still looking a little pale in the face, but our carriage is just outside."

"Sorry, love. I'm afraid this is all such a shock," Charlotte chuckled.

"I understand. It's been a long day for all of us. We'll go to our house and I'll make you some tea." Erik ushered Gustave out the door, then waited for Charlotte to start walking alongside him. "If...if that's alright, of course."

"I'm from London. Of course tea is alright," Charlotte giggled.

Erik laughed quietly. "Good. Shall we go?"

"Yes. Let's," Charlotte nodded.

Erik led Charlotte out of the chapel and helped her up into the carriage before stepping in himself. "The colour's come back to your face, which is good," he said as they started their short drive back to their home.

"Yes, I suppose. I need all the help I can get," Charlotte chuckled.

"If you're my aunt, why have I never met you before?" Gustave cut in, ignoring the unimpressed look Erik shot him for interrupting.

"It's quite a long story. The shortened version would be that she didn't know I existed because I was given to a London orphanage not long after I was born," Charlotte explained.

"Oh," Gustave said, not exactly sure how to respond. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Life is life. We just play the cards we're dealt, even if they're completely horrid," Charlotte smiled.

Erik smirked a bit, pleased to find someone who seemed to understand exactly what he had been through, even if she didn't quite realize it. "When did you get to Paris from London?" he asked.

"A year ago, shortly after I turned nineteen," Charlotte nodded.

Erik nodded. "So you're twenty, then. Do you know the age difference between you and Christine? If I may ask."

"That would be six years," Charlotte said with another nod.

"I see. It's a shame the two of you didn't get to know each better. I can tell you would have loved her," Erik said, smiling fondly at the memory of his Christine.

"She sounds nice," Charlotte smiled. "I've been told stories."

"I have plenty of those." Erik gave her a quick wink just as the carriage pulled onto their street. "Our house is just down here. It really isn't far from the center of town, which is nice."

"Yes, that is quite nice," Charlotte nodded. "I guess I don't really visit the towns as much, living at the Populaire."

"Well, with everything in the heart of the city, one doesn't need to venture into small towns much," Erik pointed out. "The Populaire is essentially in the middle of it all."

"Very true," Charlotte smiled as the carriage pulled to a stop. "Is this your place?"

"That it is," Erik said, opening the door and stepping out before helping Charlotte and Gustave out as well.

"Thank you," Charlotte nodded. "You're very kind."

"Of course. Come on in," Erik replied as he unlocked the front door and allowed Charlotte and Gustave in before he followed. "Gustave, go upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be right there."

"Alright," Gustave nodded, hurrying upstairs. "Goodnight, Charlotte."

"Goodnight, Gustave," Charlotte smiled.

Erik smiled as he untied his shoes and slipped them off. "Please. come in and sit down. I'll put the kettle on and go say goodnight to my son. Then we can get to talking," he said.

"Would you like me to put on the kettle?" Charlotte offered.

Erik waved the question off. "No, no. You are my guest and the family of my Christine. I can take care of it."

"Alright," Charlotte nodded. "Thank you. You're really so kind."

"Take a seat in the parlour. I'll be back in a moment," Erik said before he walked into the kitchen.

"Okay," Charlotte smiled, sitting in a chair and folding her hands in her lap. She took that moment to look around the room that she was sitting in. It was small, yet well furnished, much like the rest of the house that she had seen. Something that she did take note of was the lack of photos and artwork on the walls. The room was barren of them except for a picture resting on the piano. Getting up to look closer, Charlotte realized it was a young woman who looked very much like her, only a few years younger.

"I see you've found my photo of Christine," she heard Erik say as he strolled back into the room.

"She was very pretty," Charlotte said with a fond smile. "I wish we'd gotten to meet."

"Yes, she was beautiful, although I may be a bit biased," Erik replied with a quiet laugh.

"You would have to be," Charlotte nodded with a small laugh. "You did have a child with her, after all."

Erik smiled, looking down at his feet. "That I did," he said softly before he cleared his throat. "Anyhow. Enough about me. At the funeral, you were speaking to me about the man who took you in back in London. Tell me more about him...if you're comfortable with it, that is."

"Oh, of course," Charlotte nodded, sitting back down. "His name was Nadir Khan. He knew my parents, as it turned out. But of course, he didn't know that when he took me in off the street."

"So he's still alive," Erik said softly.

"Do you know him?" Charlotte frowned, sipping her tea.

"Years ago, I did. We met when he still lived in Persia, as a matter of fact. I...I'm the old friend he mentioned that lived in that home beneath the Opera."

"Really?" Charlotte smiled. "Well, what a turn of events."

"Indeed," Erik said. "How has he been? Well, I would hope."

"Very well," Charlotte nodded. "I wonder if you and I ever crossed paths. Although, I believe I would've remembered a man as dashingly handsome as you."

Erik felt his cheeks burn, so he looked down at his lap to try and prevent it from being noticed. "It is a possibility. Probably a higher one than we think, considering our similar living arrangements," he said, making a weak attempt to dance around the compliment. He had never been called handsome in his life. Never mind dashingly handsome. He didn't quite know what to make of it just yet.

"I believe I've just embarrassed you," Charlotte giggled. "I take it you aren't quite used to compliments?"

"Not exactly, no," Erik said, gesturing vaguely to his mask. "With this, I don't get very many, if any, at all."

"Why...why do you wear it?" Charlotte inquired softly.

"A complicated story, but to put it simply, I was born with half of my face looking rather unnatural. Deformed, really. I've worn a version of this ever since I was born. My mother kindly gave me my first one as an infant."

"That's horrible," Charlotte frowned. "I can't believe someone would teach a child to hide something that makes them so beautifully unique."

"Unique is a very kind word, Mademoiselle. My mother would have preferred repulsive, hideous...something along those lines," Erik replied with a sigh.

"That's...that's terrible," Charlotte said softly. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

"Mademoiselle, I would have to disagree with you."

"Why don't you just show me and let me make my own opinion?" Charlotte frowned.

Erik's eyes went wide, a new sense of fear growing in the pit of his stomach. "Charlotte, I don't think that's wise," he said.

"I promise you, I've experienced worse," Charlotte said softly, moving a bit closer. "Erik, I won't judge you."

"Everyone says those words, then go back on it immediately when they see me, and they run away," Erik said, quickly getting up out of the chair that he had been sitting in and taking a few steps away. His back was to Charlotte, but she noticed him raise his hand and bring it to rest on his mask. "Even Christine did."

"Look, I'm not like everyone else," Charlotte sighed, pulling down the right side of the neckline on her dress, revealing twisted fleshing covering her shoulder. "We're a lot more alike than you think."

Erik looked back at her, his brow creasing when he saw the state of her shoulder. "You...but how?" He asked, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"I was born with it," Charlotte explained. "Erik, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's nothing more than an over-glorified birthmark. I know that others may not see it that way, but I do. This...this was the real reason why I was given over to the orphanage. They didn't want my father to deal with the loss of his wife and a monster daughter...but none of that's important right now. Erik, just...show me please."

Erik shook his head. "A glorified birthmark to you who can hide it so easily. You don't have to walk around with a shining white piece of porcelain on your face," he said.

"Hide it easily?" Charlotte chuckled. "You clearly aren't up to date on women's fashion."

"That I am not. Women's fashion isn't one of the subjects I am well versed in. I just came to learn what Christine liked and didn't like," Erik replied with a quiet laugh.

Charlotte gave a small smile as she stood up and moved over, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "Erik, you can trust me."

Erik flinched a bit at the gesture, not used to people he had only just met being comfortable talking like this, never mind touching him and showing off flaws of their own. That fact told him so much...he could trust her. He took a shaky breath and nodded slowly as he lifted his hand again and slipped the mask off his face. He couldn't quite meet Charlotte's eyes as he did, and the following silence in the room only made his heart pound even harder. "Don't keep quiet, please. It doesn't make me more comfortable, if that's what you're thinking," he whispered.

Charlotte gently lifted his chin with the crook of her finger before her hand came to rest on his deformed cheek. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

Erik felt tears burn his eyes, but he bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to let them fall. He then caught himself leaning into Charlotte's touch slightly and pulled away from her, taking a small step backwards. "You must be exhausted after today. I can set you up with a room, if you would like, unless you want to keep talking, which we can," he said, speaking quickly. "It's up to you, really, I...I don't mind what you choose."

"I wouldn't mind either option," Charlotte smiled. "And really, you don't have to put me up."

"Well, we'll keep talking then. And trust me, I would be happy to let you stay here," Erik replied as he gently moved Charlotte's hand from his face and moved to put his mask back on. "I have the room for it."

"Erik," Charlotte said softly, reaching up to stop him, "leave it off. Please. You shouldn't be afraid to show your true self."

"Charlotte, really, I..." Erik trailed off, as he could see the look of determination he recognized from Christine in her eyes. "Alright, I'll leave it off," he said. "Let's at least sit back down to talk. My legs are sore, and I can only imagine yours are even worse, considering those torture devices that women call shoes."

"They aren't bad once your toes go numb," Charlotte chuckled.

"And that is why I am endlessly grateful that men get to wear flat shoes. I don't know how you can go about your days with numb toes."

"You get used to it," Charlotte shrugged, laughing softly. "So, you're in charge of Gustave?"

"Yes, I am his legal guardian now. Christine left him in my care as she was...well, as she was dying in my arms." Erik ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. "I'm not sure how I'm going to do it, but I suppose I will learn as any new parent must."

"I could help, if you'd like," Charlotte smiled. "I have experience in childcare. Back in Italy, I was sort of...nanny to the two boys of the couple that adopted me."

"I see," Erik said. "Even with that knowledge, I couldn't ask you to do that. He's my responsibility."

"Don't worry, you wouldn't be putting me out," Charlotte assured. "I don't have anything better to do."

"If you truly are okay with it...I would really appreciate it. I wasn't raised by very good parents, so I have no parental experience to pull from for reference. Christine was the one who knew what to do, but...well, you understand."

"Yes. I had no parents, so I know what you're going through."

"Thank you, Charlotte," Erik said with a smile. "Now, I truly want to put you up this evening. I know the underground dwelling at the Populaire well, and it is no place for a young lady like you to live. I have a couple of extra bedrooms that you can choose from, if you go get your belongings from the Opera."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Charlotte asked softly. "I wouldn't want to put you out."

"You are hardly putting me out when I have more rooms than I know what to do with. It's fine, truly."

"Alright," Charlotte smiled. "Just give me a few hours to grab my things and I'll be back shortly."

Erik nodded. "I'll set your room up while you're gone."

"Thank you. You're very kind," Charlotte nodded. "I'll see you soon."

~~~~~

charlotte is finally on the scene! BrendaDaaeDestler and I absolutely love her and we are so excited that you guys finally get to meet her. 

we hope you enjoyed!