#door 15

By @a-partofthenarrative

Boughs of Blackthorn

A/N This continues with my 2018 and 2020 Advent phics. Again, it is not necessary to read those, but there are mentions, so it might help if you want a full picture of the overarching themes and stories. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Happy Holidays!

“Come along, Gustave. This is no time to dawdle. Your mother is expecting us in an hour and I have no wish to stir her ire.”

“Sorry, Papa,” the boy’s answer came in a breathless exclamation as he puffed to the masked man’s side. “I was just admiring those lights across the way. They’re so sparkly!”

“And we have plenty of sparkling lights at home, my boy, no thanks to the massive tree you were so insistent upon,” Erik grumbled, pulling the brim of his fedora low and hoisting the bag of gifts higher on his lanky shoulder, the result of a father-son outing that Christine had insisted would be the perfect opportunity to feed the bond. Heavens knew he loved that woman more than life, but ever since he had slipped that ring on her finger a week ago, her…ideas were driving him further and further out of the comfortable solace he had built over the last decade.

“You’ve had a son for ten years, Erik, and been a father for less than six months. Despite what you may believe, our engagement does not magically transform you into the perfect paternal specimen. You need to build a relationship with your son.

He had sputtered in protest. “But…but the entire tree escapade!”

“Was a wonderful start,” she soothed with a smile, her diamond winking up at him in the candlelight as she placed a loving hand against his cheek. “But more is required….most of all, time.” Glancing up at him from beneath dark lashes. “The effort is what counts the most, my love. He appreciates that more than you realize.”

Releasing a sigh, he folded her into his arms. “As always, you are correct ange.” The porcelain shifted against her curls as he blew out another breath. “What else did you have in mind?”

When she pulled back, her smile was positively conspiratorial. “Well, Christmas is a mere week away and while I am long finished with my gift shopping, something tells me you and Gustave have not even begun.”

His gaze dropped pointedly to her hand. “You are not satisfied with that?”

Her eyes lifted with her shoulder in a half-shrug. “I prefer to think of our engagement as an extra holiday blessing?”

Anxiety spiked in his gemstone eyes. “And the people...”

“Yes, I suppose there is that..” she conceded, glancing up at him. “Perhaps you could go today? It is nearly closing time and the crowds are sure to have thinned…”

“Christine…”

“Erik, you must learn how to exist in public, at least somewhat. You cannot be a fragment beyond the mirror for the rest of your days”

“It has served me very well thus far.”

“Thus far, you have been completely alone,” she shot back, the words softening so as only to bruise, not batter. “You are to be a husband and you are already a father. I want us to be able to spend time together in the world Erik, as a family should.” The corners of her lips tipped up in a hint of a smile. “Did you not even tell me as much all those years ago? ‘I want a wife to walk with on Sundays’.”

Already he could feel his resolve crumbling under her pretty words and idyllic fantasies turned real. “You know I want nothing more.”

“Good.” Her smile grew bright as she smoothed her hands down his back, knotting them at his waist. “Then take Gustave out shopping. Please, darling? It would mean so much to him.”

He chuckled despite himself, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You know I can deny you nothing, Christine. Have it your way, then. I shall accompany our son, briefly, to complete his- our-,” he amended at her lifted brow, “Christmas shopping.” The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but not altogether unpleasant, made sweeter by the radiant smile earned from his fiancee’s lips.

“Is that everything?” Gustave’s voice called him back to the present.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Unless there is something else that you need?”

The boy shrugged. “I’ve been to every store you sent me to.” His brow furrowed, “Are the horses all right? When you insisted on staying with them once we got here, I used the extra change you gave me to buy some apples.”

“Well..they..seem to be just fine.” Erik stammered, averting his eyes as the boy offered the fruit to one of the carriage horses, who eagerly chomped it down. “One can never be too careful, you know.”

“I’m just glad they’re okay.” Gustave murmured, stroking Ceasar’s velvet muzzle. He had instantly taken to Erik’s prize horse, named for his old friend in Paris. The feelings were highly mutual, given Cesar’s delighted chuff, nosing the boy’s pockets for further treats.

“Let us be off then,” Erik worked the reins, preparing to climb into the driver’s seat when something caught his attention across the square. He watched in silent observation, hat down, chin tilted, as the wares were displayed and demonstrated in a most satisfying manner, brow furrowing as his lips shifted into a thoughtful frown. Intriguing idea, that…

“...Gustave…”

“Hmm?” Matching eyes swung to his as Gustave shifted his attention from the horse to his father. “Have we forgotten something?”

“Very nearly,” Erik answered, reaching a hand into his cloak and withdrawing a small sack of coin. “Do you see that vender across the way?” At the boy's nod, the masked man dropped the bag into his hands. “Run over there and purchase every item he has.”

Gustave’s eyes widened as the weight of the money settled in his small hands. “All of them?”

Erik gave a slow nod, lips tipping up as a brilliant plan took shape in his mind. “Every last one.”

**********************************************************************************************************

Spindly hands greeted Christine as she stepped through the door to Erik’s home upon returning from tea with Ms. Fleck and some of the other performers she had befriended since arriving at Phantasma. A brief squeak of surprise escaped her lips before it was effectively smothered by another pair. Recognition dawned instantly and she gave in with a sigh as her arms raised to encircle boney shoulders.

She allowed herself to be kissed once, twice…a fourth time before stepping back and grinning up into the face of her captor. “If this is how I stand to be greeted upon coming home, perhaps I should leave that much more.”

Erik gazed down at her, a hint of a smirk playing over his mouth. “I am simply following tradition.”

Her perplexed expression lasted only a moment as she followed his glance upward. “Mistletoe! How festive. Well done, my darling.” She stepped around him, fingers working the buttons on coat. “How was your outing with Gustave.”

He shrugged, “Well enough, I suppose.” Assisting her out of the heavy wool, he set it aside before taking a seat on the settee. “I do believe it would be fair to say that all holiday purchases have now been made.”

“Excellent,” Christine remarked, moving toward the kitchen. “I think a cup of tea sounds lovely, don’t you? Have you seen Mary? No bother, I am perfectly capable of brewing one for myself.”

“Ah….Christine…” Erik sprang to his feet, following her steps. “That’s not necessary.”

“Erik, really,” she admonished, turning to him with an exasperated sigh. “I was not always a Vicometess with servants at my beck and call.”

“I’m fully aware,” he countered, taking a step closer, then another and another until she was backed against the doorframe. “In any event, I gave the staff the evening off. Gustave is spending the night with Gangle and Squelch, and you and I…well” His smirk returned as his eyes darkened, roved over her face. “We have a few holiday traditions of our own to catch up on.”

Head bent, he leaned closer, but one touch of a delicate hand to his chest prevented the promise of a kiss fulfilled. Christine glanced up, then slightly down to catch his eye. “Mistletoe again? I appreciate the thought, Erik, but isn’t one in the foyer enough?” Her gaze tracked beyond him then, noticing the pattern that had gone unseen before. “Erik…what did you do?”

Not giving him a chance to answer, she ducked beneath his arms and took off down the hallway, stopping every so often to examine her surroundings. A trip up the stairs followed, with stops to inspect every eave, every doorway. “Erik!” she called, speechless when he finally appeared at the top of the stairs. “What in God’s name have you done?

He glanced away, guilt coloring his exposed features. “I simply thought it might be festive?”

“F-festive?” she stammered, turning in a circle, arms akimbo while visually combing every exposed beam and door. ``It's…mistletoe….and it's everywhere! What could have possibly possessed you?”

He withered slightly under her exasperation, shifting from one foot to the other like Gustave did when he sought trouble. “I do apologize, Christine. It seems I may have been a bit…hasty in my assumptions.”

“But..why?” she finished weakly, arms falling to her sides.

Her fiance was quiet for a moment before admitting, “I suppose I simply wanted every opportunity to kiss the woman I love under it. I spent so many years watching others have their chance at the opera and now that I have someone who loves me..well, let us just say it seemed foolish of me to waste the opportunity.”

“Oh, Erik…” A watery smile manifested before fading into astonishment. “But….every room?”

“Yes, well…” He ascended the top step with a deep swallow. “I admit I may have gone a touch overboard.”

“Ever the romantic, my Erik,” Christine mused as came closer, taking his hands. “Where did you even find so much mistletoe in the first place?”

“Easily enough,” he supplied, twining long fingers through hers, drawing her near. “Gustave and I happened upon some in the market today and I suppose you could say I was inspired.” His chin tipped up as he reasoned, “and this is not even all we have.”

Christine blinked up at him. “There’s more mistletoe?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” he stated, his tone so matter-of-fact that she was not sure whether to laugh or cry. “I had the boy purchase every piece he had.”

A bark of laughter escaped the soprano as she settled her head against the phantom’s chest.”I…don’t even know how to respond to that statement,” she chuckled into his waistcoat. “Nor do i want to.”

She felt his rumble of amusement as the next words echoed through to her. “So I suppose our evening will be spent undoing my holiday faux pas then?”

WIth a sigh, she lifted her head to face him, meeting his expectant gaze as an idea of her own took shape. “Soon enough. But first, come with me.” Seizing his hand in a burst of motion, she swept past him, nearly dragging him down the stairs.

“I see,” Suspicion colored his tone as she brought them to a halt before the entry, under the very mistletoe that had started this wholly strange affair. “And what are we doing here?”

“We can’t very well let it go to waste, now can we?” she reasoned, reaching up to wrap arms around lanky shoulders, drawing his head down to press a quick, potent kiss to his lips. Taking his hand again, she led them to the living room where another bulb hung, reaching up on toes again for another pass of lips, though this time, he reflexively tilted his head down for easier access.

It continued to the kitchen- another kiss, slightly longer, a bit deeper.

The parlor- longer still and with a hint of fire.

The music room - an overture of breath and heat and bodies pressed together against the doorframe.

The library, adding the caress of hungry fingertips, pushing silk aside, finding tastes of skin beneath.

The study, the dining room, the hall, the sunroom, around the corner and up the stairs again - on and on and on again until Chrisitne pulled them, breathless and smiling to the door of her bedroom.

Erik stopped, the unspoken question laying this between them.

She stared up at him with luminous eyes, fading a bit when she sensed his hesitation. She knew they both looked a bit worse for wear- his hair tousled and his cravat was gone (lost somewhere in the hall, if memory served her right). Her day dress hung a bit loose off one shoulder and her chignon boasted a few less pins, but somehow it seemed inevitable that they were hurtling to this moment, ten years in the making, and she would be damned if she let it slip through their fingers.

Forcing the brightness back to her face, she glanced up at Erik, who still waited by the doorway. “DId you say Gustave is with Dr. Gangle and Mr Squelch for the night?”

He started, clearing his throat as his eyes averted as he scrambled forward. “Yes…but Christine, please believe me, I never assumed tonight would go this far-”

“Erik.” She stopped with his name, a loving hand to his forearm. “I know.” she said, simply, sliding her fingers down his arm to join with his. “I know.”

He flashed a half-smile at her, an apology and a question all in one. “I also know,” she continued, “that I no longer wish to sleep alone.”

He drew back, drew away. Too much, too fast. “Christine…”

“We known each other before Erik,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over his. “You asked me last week to stay and I accepted. Tonight,” Her brown eyes flicked up to his then, calm depths to panicked oceans. “I am asking the same thing of you.”

She watched as his eyes fell closed at her request, could almost see that brilliant mind of his processing the situation, computing for an answer that would leave both of them satisfied.

“Yes,” he whispered back, giving the only response that would. “Christine, if you are absolutely sure…”

“I’ve never been more certain,” she responded, kissing him again, coaxing his lips open to her, for her, drinking deeply of the spicy sweetness that only he could give.

She drew away, keeping his hand tightly encased in hers and nodded up at the bulb hanging overhead. “Oh, and Erik? Do bring that, will you?”

He glanced up, but retrieved it and handed it over. “What are you going to do with it?”

By @oh-fortheloveof-ra9

Let it Snow

Connor sits and watches snow with Hank on Christmas Eve. He is in awe and points different snowflakes out to Hank. Hank thinks he's being ridiculous until he realizes that the android can actually see the snowflake shapes. It's a beautiful night.

Where the fuck was that crazy Android?

It was not the first time Hank asked himself that and he was certain that it wouldn't be the last.

He sighed through his nose as he looked around his dark living room, the only light coming from some old Christmas lights dropped over the record player that Connor had pressured him into taking out. Christmas had long been banished from his house. It was never the same without Cole, and Hank had no interest in starting it up ever again. But Connor consumed every tidbit of information that he could get his hands on while stuck under house arrest, so finding out about Christmas and all of the strange organic traditions that came with it was the only thing that seemed to distract the android.

The revolution was still fresh and though everything pointed to Connor's nearly assured success in court, he was still caught up in cases and banished from the general human populace for the murder of two Cyberlife guards, and self-imposed banishment from his own kind meant Connor was stuck with Hank. To make things worse; to this particular Android, boredom was a death sentence, so Hank humored him.

When Connor had approached him, asking about Christmas lights Hank was all but sure that he had thrown every Christmas box that he owned into the trash a year after Cole's death, but damned if every American attic didn't have the god-damned string lights somewhere in it's fucking vicinity. By some miracle Connor had dug out a singular box that had survived the purge and with Hank's permission, Connor had strung them up in the living room 'for their enjoyment'.

Hank sighed, glaring at the cheery, warm, multicolored lights wrapped around his record player and checked his watch. 11:42pm. And on Christmas Eve no less. He glanced around.

"Connor?" Hank asked, his volume seemed blasphemous to the peace of the night, but all remained silent. Hank stood with a grunt. Sumo shifted and looked up at him, as if asking what the hell he was thinking, getting up at this hour.

"I know, boy." Hank grumbled, giving him a pat on the head as he passed. "Sorry, go back to sleep."

Sumo let out a massive sigh and closed his eyes again. Hank continued around the house. Still no Android.

"Connor?" Hank asked cautiously, checking the bathroom, then garage, then his own bedroom when he was still at a loss. He finally spotted his new roommate when he peeked out the window, sitting on the front porch.

A minute later he cracked the front door, having pulled his coat on. The android rotated around to glance his way, his palms held out as if he was holding something large.

"Hello lieutenant." Connor smiled softly, his voice quiet but sounding peaceful.

"What the fuck are you doing out here Connor? Get back inside! It's freezing!" Hank whispered.

Connor looked up and seemed to register for the first time that it was indeed cold, but he looked a bit crestfallen.

"Oh, I'm sorry lieutenant, I hope that I didn't cause you any undue concern, I assure you, my temperature is such that I am perfectly functional."

"Well then what the hell are you doing out here?" Hank asked still keeping his voice down, more for his own benefit as he realized that no one else in his house would hear them. Still, it was nearly midnight and he respected the peace that the late hours were entitled to.

"I'm watching the snowflakes." Connor said, pointing at one. The snow was thick and silent as it fell, it reminded Hank of The final scenes in It's a Wonderful Life.

I want to live again.

Hank could hear the line echo in his head. The moment after the thick snow began to fall, George Bailey running around in all of those potato flakes, having discovered the true meaning of life.

Hmph.

Hank pulled his coat closer to his chest and glanced around. It was snowing pretty good, he was glad that he didn't need to work until midday otherwise he'd probably have to start shoveling now.

Connor sat silently next to him rotating his head back and forth.

"I've never stopped to actually watch the snow, it's rather nice." Connor said trying to strike up a friendly conversation. He did that still.

"Yeah, it's peaceful." Hank grudgingly agreed.

"I started by tracking the patterns of flakes as they fell."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Why? You needed some statistical data about snowflakes?"

"Well… No. I just find it enjoyable and relaxing."

"Oh…right." Hank replied awkwardly. "So… How's it looking?" He asked, trying to feign interest.

"Chaotic." Connor answered brusquely, giving Hank the impression that the android saw right through his front. "But now I'm looking at the snowflakes." Connor said matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah, well…good. It's pleasant watching the snow. I'm glad that you're enjoying it." Hank said, sitting down next to the android. "You holding something?" Hank asked, gesturing to his outstretched arms.

"Snowflakes." Connor responded holding up a hand as if Hank hadn't been paying attention. Hank looked down and saw some snowflakes whisk back into the air as he moved.

"Jesus Connor! How long have you been out here? The snow's not even melting on you!"

"Correct, it makes them easier to catch." Connor answered cheerily, reaching out an index finger and capturing a small flake. He glanced down at it.

"But you're okay? You're not going to, you know, shut down or anything from the cold?"

Connor smiled over to him, seemingly amused. "It would have to be pretty cold, Hank." He teased. "But thank you for your concern. I will be fine." He offered the snowflake to Hank for a look.

"Yep. That's snow." Hank replied.

Connor pulled the snowflake back and looked fondly at it.

"I think that this one might be my favorite yet." Connor smiled.

Hank's brain froze for a moment.

"Your favorite what? Christmas?" Hank asked.

"Well it's my only Christmas, lieutenant." Connor looked over at him. "And it is also not Christmas yet. We still have 2 minutes and forty five seconds."

"Oh, yeah, okay." Hank mumbled. "Then it's your favorite what?" He asked dumbly.

Connor looked at him equally dumb.

"My favorite... snowflake." Connor answered uncertainly, as if he was suddenly analyzing if he'd said something insulting or weird.

"Wait…"Hank said, holding up a hand. "You're not watching it snow, you're 'looking at snowflakes'?" Hank repeated Connor's exact words finding the meaning.

Connor looked a bit frightened that he'd done something wrong, but as Hank smiled at the notion Connor seemed to relax.

"Precisely." Connor grinned.

"Wow." Hank laughed. "So you're looking at the snowflakes shapes when they land on you?"

"Yes, don't you do it?" Connor asked.

"I mean, sometimes, when a few land on my coat, but then they melt, it makes them hard to see. The uh… disadvantage to body heat I guess." Hank shrugged.

"Oh." Connor said, cocking his head. "I see." He twittled his thumbs, looking unsure of himself. Another difference between them. Hank got the sense that Connor was embarrassed when he found differences between them.

"That's pretty neat Connor." Hank grinned, elbowing him gently. "I wish I could do that." He said, casting a line for Connor to grab.

"Yeah?" Connor looked over at him bashfully.

God. He was just like a kid, wanting reassurance.

"Yeah." He turned to look at the android, who looked back down at the other snowflakes gathering on him, glancing at each as they landed on him. "You know, there's a saying, that you gotta stop and enjoy the little things in life sometimes. You seem to be good at that, Connor."

Connor looked down. Hank recognized a blush even without blood-flow to the android's face.

"Thank you lieutenant." He said, avoiding eye contact. "Would…would you like to see a few?"

"Yes, actually I would, Connor. That'd be great." Connor held out his palm to Hank, an image emerged from the hologram in Connor's hand. A perfectly formed snow star, as beautiful and delicate as only nature could form.

"Here's that one."

Hank quietly marveled at it, wondering how many similar masterpieces we're making up the 4 inches of snow currently blanketing the city. He felt a small smile creep onto his face. He noticed Connor's smile out of the corner of his eye. Then the image changed, this time the shape was blockier, more geometric and square but still wonderful to look at. Connor flicked through a dozen or so snowflakes, allowing Hank to take on each one. Some were perfect and symmetrical, others were missing parts, but still beautiful and unique in their own way.

When he was finished he let the hologram disappear from his palm, waiting for Hank to speak.

"That was pretty great Connor." Hank said, nudging his old partner with his shoulder.

"There are so many and they're all different." Connor said, watching the snowflakes in the air.

"Kinda like people." Hank wondered allowed. "And Androids." He added and saw Connor glance over at him. "They're more interesting when you get a good look at each of them. Too bad people don't usually take the time to stop and notice." Hank muttered.

Connor looked over at him.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Well, it's a lot of work, it takes time, and frankly a lot of people don't care enough to do it." Hank said, crossing his arms.

"I care, lieutenant." Connor offered. "And you did too. Maybe it's easier if you have someone to work with. Someone else who cares."

Hank looked up at the snow again. Maybe not the meaning of life that George Bailey had found in the falling snow, but the thought made Hank smile.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, Connor. I guess it's a good thing you're here. Makes it easier to see the snowflakes."

Connor seemed to linger on him a second and then stare up into the sky as well, watching the flakes fall.

Hank finally sighed and stood, stomping his boots out as he stepped back up to the door.

"You coming back in, Mr. Freeze?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, if I get much colder and my components will start to get sluggish." Connor responded, standing.

Hank grunted as he held the door open for him.

As the android passed he turned to Hank and offered a thin smile, still perfecting the trick, as he didn't practice often or have a particularly good reference living only with Hank.

Suddenly Connor's smile brightened, tugging at one cheek as it became more natural and genuine. Hank realized that he'd started to smile too. Connor was copying him.

"Merry Christmas Hank." Connor said as he passed back into the warmth of the house.

By @a-partofthenarrative​

“Silver and Gold”

A/N This is a sequel to my 2018 Advent Calendar piece, “Evergreen”. It is not necessary to read that first, but it might be helpful as there are some references to that here. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, y’all!

 Christine loved New York at Christmas.

 The sights, the sounds, the smells…every moment of strolling through the city streets, block by block, had brought an exhilarating thrill that had been absent from her heart for far too many years. Even hours later, as she stood in the kitchen, elbow deep in pie dough, she had been unable to wipe the smile from her face.

 Ms. Fleck had disappeared to somewhere or another at one point, claiming “errands” and leaving Christine to wander lower Manhattan for the better part of an hour. Weighed down by the variety of shopping bags, she had meandered uptown at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire the newly erected Christmas tree in Washington square before making her way up 5th Ave. to Herald Square, where she would find Ms. Fleck and Erik’s odd horseless contraption that had initially spirited her to Coney Island.

 As she passed the stream of elaborate shops boasting anything any man, woman or children could ever desire, she lingered here and there, casting appreciative eyes to the elaborate window displays attracting crowds along the sidewalk. One particular window snagged her attention: a fanciful tower of toys teetering precariously on top of one another, held aloft in some miraculous defiance of gravity. 

 Biting back a smile, she stepped away with a silent resolution to return with Gustave. The poor boy would be positively beside himself when he saw the treasure trove in front of her.

 She had located her shopping companion only moments later and, with confirmation from both parties that their feet and funds were exhausted, bags and passengers were located into the carriage for the trip home.

 At least...she hoped it would become home. Goodness, but it did feel like home; this crazy, complicated family she had formed in a strange netherworld of curiosities. Upon returning to Erik’s home, it had been discovered that they had beaten “the boys” back to the residence, so with no tree to decorate, Christine had set her attention to another one of her favorite holiday pastimes.

 Now, planted firmly in the large kitchen, covered in flour and holiday cheer, she rolled the stubborn dough into a thin sheet, a pie plate stuffed full of apples set to the side patiently waiting for its cover. Satisfied with her work, her fingers had just curled around the edge of the thin sheet when a commotion drew her attention to the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen to investigate.

 Ms. Fleck was already present and Christine cast her a questioning look before another shout snapped her eyes to the foyer.

 Dr. Gangle stood just inside the door, the sole member of the group lucky enough to claim the prime position out of the cold, although one’s definition of luck would depend on one’s opinion. The poor man’s arms were wrapped around the top of one of the largest evergreen trees she had ever seen, this one seemingly dwarfing the childhood giant she had described to Erik only hours before. No doubt this had been Gustave’s doing. As his father before him, her son had a tendency to want to “one-up” anyone or anything that he deemed worthy of bragging rights and she bit back a chuckle despite herself. Maybe it was time her beloved masked enigma had a taste of his own medicine; the fact that it was delivered by his own progeny was turning out to be a delightful twist of Fate.

 Shouts echoed from beyond the door, phasing in and out in a cacophony of chaos as the tree twisted and turned in a macabre dance in attempts to be pushed over the threshold.

 “Left! Move it to the left!....No, the OTHER left!”

 “That IS left! Watch it! You’re going to take the paint clean off the frame!”

 “Gangle! Squelch! If either one of you idiots scratches the paint, you’ll be repairing it yourselves with Ms. Fleck’s mascara brush!” 

 Both women watched in stunned silence at the tenuous exchange before Christine glanced down, brow furrowed and voice weary. “Goodness, but it sounds like they’re having some trouble, doesn’t it?”

 The smaller woman shrugged. “Frankly, I’m impressed that the Master knows what a mascara brush is.”

 Christine blinked, unable to answer before the tree moved just so, allowing a small blur through the doorway and straight into her skirts. “Maman!” Gustave beamed up at her, thick snow caked in the hair along his brow. “Look at the tree we found! Isn’t it wonderful? I think it’s even bigger than yours!”

 “It is..something!” she exclaimed brightly, hunkering down to look him in the eyes. “What happened, cherie? You look as though you’ve been caught in a snowstorm.”

 Gustave pulled off his hat and swiped a carelessly palm over his hairline, sending clumps of snow to the wooden floor. “We had the best time! Dr. Gangel and mr. Squelch had a hard time cutting down the tree, so Mr. Y stepped in to help them. Well, the three of them began to argue over which way was the best way and while they were yelling at each other, the tree started to creak and then fell- right toward the sleigh!”

 Christine gasped, feeling slightly “Oh no…”

 “Oh yes!” The boy chattered on, seemingly oblivious to the picture he was painting. “That seemed to get their attention and then they ran toward the sleight. I didn’t get to see much after that because Mr. Y grabbed me, but we ended up in the snow. You should see him, Mama! He looks so funny!”

 “Gustave, do you realize any of you could have been hurt or worse?! Mr. Y likely saved your life!”

 Gustave rolled his eyes in a fashion so similar to Erik that Christine’s breath caught. “Maman, I’m fine. The tree didn’t even land anywhere near us.” His little brow furrowed as he glanced at the tree in the doorway, a frustrated Dr. Gangle staring at its branches with open disdain. “Do you think we’ll be able to get it inside?”

 “I..don’t know, love. I’m sure Mr. Y and the others are doing everything they can.”

 More grunts and shouts caused mother and son to glance up and Christine quickly snatched Gustave and stepped back as the tree hurtled forward, succumbing to a final desperate push from Squelch and Gangle. With one hand planted firmly on her son and the other pressed to her chest, she watched wide-eyed as the men muscled the enormous evergreen deeper into the house, and a masked figure stumble in behind them, shutting the door with an echoing bang and slumping against it with a weary sigh.

.

This man looked nothing like the impeccable figure she had always known. Instead, the man before her was a disheveled mess; wilted against the doorway, chest heaving, hair caked with snow, overcoat askew and one glove and his cravat missing (although really, who wore full evening dress to trek through the woods?).

 With a quiet word and a promise to reconvene soon, Christine sent Gustave upstairs with Ms. Fleck to clean up before pasting a sympathetic smile on her lips and moving to his side. “Oh, my poor Erik,” she soothed, taking his gloveless hand in hers. “Something tells me today did not go exactly as planned.”

 He cracked one eye open at the sound of her voice. “Christine…” Even his voice was exhausted. “Never again…”

 “But Gustave is happy, Erik. You did well.”

 “...and nearly killed us both in the process.”

 “Yes, well, he did mention that,” she muttered. “But thankfully no one was killed or maimed and the tree was delivered successfully…”

 Both eyes opened to regard her now and she only sighed and smoothed a hand over his snow-wet face. “I am nearly done with an apple pie. I meant it to be a surprise, but given the circumstances…” She chuckled at the faint light that came to his gaze at the mention of his favorite dessert, another newly discovered similarity to their son. “Go and clean up while I finish and then we’ll all decorate our new tree together.”

 This brought another groan as Erik let his head fall back against the door with a thump. “Christine, I have a bountiful staff. This is what they are paid for.”

 “Not this year.” she countered. “Besides, decorating is the most fun of all. I’ve already laid out the popcorn to be strung and I picked out some lovely ornaments in the City today.”

 “The City? Christine, you went to Manhattan alone?!?”

 “Of course not, Erik. Ms. Fleck accompanied me” She squeezed his hand. “Now up you go.”

 “But Christine!”

 She met him eye for eye. “Don’t! I am a grown woman. We were perfectly safe. Now go upstairs, change into some fresh clothes and decorate the Christmas tree with your son.” Stepping back, she helped him to his feet, smoothing her hands down the sleeves of his overcoat and pressing a kiss to his frozen lips. “I shall join you as soon as I get this pie in the oven.” 

 *********************************************************************

Nearly an hour later, the pie covered and browning nicely, Christine untied her apron, let down her hair and migrated to the living room where the festivities already appeared to be happening in full swing.

 The tree now stood in the place of honor in the front corner of the room, beautifully centered in front of the large bay window, creating a lovely visual for anyone who happened to pass along the street. Dr. Gangle, Squelch and Ms. Fleck had taken up positions nearby, sorting through the packages and parcels from their shopping excursion, taking turns to comment on the contents of each.

 Muttering from the back corner turned her attention to Erik and Gustave, both dressed in fresh shirtsleeves, waistcoats and trousers, and seated side-by-side on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them. Gustave was attempting to teach his father to string the snack food to create a festive garland that would be just perfect. Erik, bless his heart, listened indulgently as he tried to copy Gustave’s motions. Unfortunately, while the former Opera Ghost was a master of innumerable things, the muttered curses and muffled cries of pain indicated that the needle was making better progress connecting with skin rather than kernels. 

 The rustling of skirts announced her presence to the room and Erik immediately set the string and bowl aside as he stood to greet her. “Ah, there you are, Christine. Would you care to ah...take over the garland crafting?”

 Biting back a smile at his attempts to cover his inadequate stringing skills, she gave him an impish grin as she drew near. “And deprive you of the experience? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 “It’s all right, Maman,” Gustave commented, never taking his eyes from his work. “He’s not very good at it.”

 Erik’s gaze snapped to hers as if to say There! You see? but she quickly and quietly tempered it with one of her own. “Not everyone excels at the same things, Gustave. But if there is one thing I know about Mr. Y, it is that he has quite the eye for making beautiful things.”

 “Except popcorn garland,” Gustave supplied.

 Erik’s expression was positively indignant as she worked to suppress the quirk of her lips. “So it would seem.”

 “We’ve got all of the ornaments arranged for you when you’re ready, Boss,” Squelch announced, waving a hand over the various boxes of colored bulbs laid out beside the tree. “Ms. Christine picked up quite the selection.”

 “Wonderful. Thank you, all.” Erik managed, taking Christine’s hand as they approached the tree. “Shall be begin?”

 The three glanced between themselves, then back at the Master and his lady. “You want us to help?”

 “Of course!” Christine smiled, “besides, none of this would have been possible without you.”

 No further permission was needed by any of the parties. Gustave, finished with his popcorn garland, wound it around the tree, accepting assistance from Erik and Dr. Gangle at different points depending on height and availability. Christine, Squelch and Ms. Fleck declared themselves in charge of the myriad colors of ornaments and directed where and what were hung until the tree was transformed from a blank green palette to a wonder of color and light.

 One of the most important purchases for Christine had been a set of candles for Advent. “This was one of my favorite traditions growing up,” she remarked as she struck a match. “With all of the traveling my father and I did, there were many of our traditions that we were forced to forego, but he always made certain we had a set of candles for Advent.” With a radiant smile, she lit their first candle, relishing in the pop and crack of the wick catching fire. “This one represents hope.”

“The second represents faith,” Passing the match to Gustave, she helped him light the second candle before offering it to the masked man standing at her side. Wordlessly, he accepted it, his expression unreadable as he set the match to the wick and the third candle spring to life. “And the third,” she supplied, meeting Erik’s gaze over the flickering flame, “is for joy.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips then and her heart squeezed a bit tighter in her chest.

 “What about the other candles?” Gustave asked.

 Christine blew out the match and smiled down at him. “Traditionally, there are four Sundays in Advent and each week one more candle is lit. The fifth is lit on Christmas Eve. We’ve started a bit late this year, as it’s nearly Christmas, but all will be lit as the season progresses.”

 Gustave studied the candles, then glanced at her “Did mofar teach you any other traditions that we can have here?”  

 “Oh, cheri, so many! Although, we rarely had the chance to partake in any of them given that we were never in Sweden much after my fifth birthday. The legend of St. Lucia, julbord, julklapper.” She brightened. “I may be able to make julmust for Christmas Eve if I can find the proper ingredients. That is, if you don’t mind, Erik?”

 Slipping an arm around her waist, he remarked. “I want to know everything that is important to you, ange. If it makes you and Gustave happy, then consider it done.”

 The boy’s attention shifted to him then. “What about you, Mr. Y? Did you have any traditions growing up?”

 Erik’s panicked eyes immediately shot to her and Christine smoothly took control of the conversation. “Gustave, I’m sure Mr. Y knows many of the same holiday traditions that you do.”

 “But he’s never even had a Christmas tree before…”

 “And there were many years where I did not either. Like myself, Mr. Y has spent a great deal of his life traveling, haven't you, Erik?”

 “I have,” the masked man confirmed, but offered no further explanation.

 Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the boy for the moment. “So... we’re blending. Maman’s traditions with Mr. Y’s?”

 Christine glanced at Erik, who looked as lost as she felt. “Er…”

 “In a sense, I suppose,” Erik supplied. “But perhaps it is more accurate to say that we are starting our own traditions. As a..” he trailed off suddenly, his normally stoic face slipping into something akin to sudden wonder.

 “As a family?” Gustave ventured.

 “Yes, my love,” Christine whispered, fingers covertly creeping into Erik’s palm as he held her hand like a lifeline. “Exactly that.” Drawing him close to her side, she bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve had an exciting day and according to that clock in the hall, it is much past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone and I’ll be up in a moment.”

 “Ah, actually, Christine, may I speak with you for a moment?” Erik cut in.

 “Come on, little master,” Ms. Fleck said with a wink, catching Erik’s eye. “If you can get your nightclothes on, I’ll read you a story before your mama comes to tuck you in.”

 Gustave broke into a grin, pecking Christine on the cheek before dashing for the stairs. Christine watched him go with a loving smile before tipping her head back to smile up at the man stationed behind her. “Look at how happy he is, Erik. You gave him one of the best days, despite all of the trials that came with it. That boy worships the ground you walk on.”

 “I care for him in a way that I never knew I was capable of,” he admitted, tucking her hand in his arm and turning to the tree. “I would move heaven and earth for that boy.”

 “Welcome to parenthood, my love,” she whispered.

 With a sigh, Erik moved to stand before her, cloaked in the colors cast by the candles flames against the glass ornaments of the tree. “Christine, I admit I’ve been struggling when it comes to you and Gustave. I am not proud of it, but you must understand that I spent the majority of my life in utter solitude. Even in our...early acquaintance, the very notion that someone would care for me, let alone that I would one day have a son of my own…. was laughable.

 “Both of us know how the last story ended and quite frankly, as far as I was concerned, that was the end,” He shook his head, glancing down to the floor. “But then our paths converged again, ten years later with the knowledge of Gustave...and almost losing you again...it awoke something in me, Christine. Something that made me realize that I never want to feel that way again.

 “You, my darling, are the only thing that matters to me. You and Gustave and, if it is agreeable to you, you would make me innumerably happy if you would remain in Coney Island.”

 Her breath caught as the weight of what he was asking began to sink in. “Erik, are you…?

 He gripped her hands tighter, gaze steady, but pleading. “Stay with me, Christine. Be my wife. Let’s give Gustave the family we should have been from the beginning.”

 ‘Erik…” she whispered, leaning her forehead into his chest as tears flooded her eyes. “Truly?”

 In response, he pulled a box from his vest pocket, flipping it open to reveal a diamond solitaire. On one side, a band of gold, warm and radiant, linked a band of silver on the other, cool but elegant, joining in metallic harmony to cradle the diamond that winked up at her.

 “Oh, Erik…” she breathed again, “it’s stunning”

 “I know the tradition is bended knee, but I seem to have had a traumatic incident with a rather aggressive evergreen,” he replied dryly, “so I hope you’ll forgive...”

 “Yes.”

 He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

 “Yes. I’ll marry you. We shall stay.” Christine beamed up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “With all of my heart, I love you, you stubborn boar. The answer is ‘yes’.” Curling her fingers around the edges of his waistcoat she pulled him forward in a flash of motion and kissed him thoroughly in front of said evergreen tree.

 A chorus of enthusiastic cheers broke the spell a moment later and the couple turned to see Gustave, Ms. Fleck, Dr. Gangle and Squelch positively glowing at them from the stairs. “Way to go, Boss!”

 “Yes, well...” Erik sputtered, looking to Christine for assistance. She only chuckled, kissed him deeply again and extended her left hand, to which he responded by obediently sliding the ring on her finger.

 Gustave rushed down the stairs to embrace them both, begging to see his mother’s ring, then beaming up at Erik as if he had just been handed the world on a plate. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Father’ now?”

 Christine’s breath caught as her brown eyes collided with Erik’s mismatched ones, which looked slightly watery again. She watched as his throat bobbed, silently struggling for control before managing an answer. “Of course, my boy. You may call me whatever you wish,” he said, stooping down to look the boy in the eye. “You are my son and I am sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel as though I’ve held you at arm’s length. I..love you, Gustave. I always have.”

 Christine pressed her hands to her mouth, tears flowing anew as the boy’s mouth trembled and he launched himself into the arms of the masked man whom he had come to idolize. Erik caught him, holding him in an awkward embrace as he met Christine’s teary smile, unbidden moisture already beginning to track down his visible cheek.

 Erik stood, bringing Gustave with him and Christine moved forward to join the embrace. As Erik’s free arm came around her and Gustave’s little hand held tight to hers, she was sure her heart would burst. 

 Her father used to say that a broken, battered path often led to the most beautiful destination and as she stood in the embrace of the two men she loved most in the world, bathed in the silver and gold glow of the candles and Christmas lights, she knew that she was finally home.

 With a family of her own making.

 As it always should have been.

 Eyes slipping closed, her fingers languidly trailed up and down Erik’s spine and smiled as the large hand at her waist squeezed her imperceptibly closer.