Like Father Like Son

Burrying an Angel

The day had arrived. One that I had never wanted to see in all my days on this earth. The funeral for Christine Daae was this afternoon.

Today, we bury an angel.

I straightened the jacket of my suit in the mirror before slipping my black mask onto my face, completing my all-black ensemble. While it was not much of a stretch from my usual, the black mask was in stark contrast to the crisp white mask that typically covered my face. For a moment, I wondered why I was trying so hard to fit the dress code - it wasn't like anyone would know I was there.

But Gustave would know. As would Christine - that I knew for sure. So, I made my grief public for the two most important people in my life.

I glanced out the window and raised an eyebrow when I saw yet another one of the Vicomte's carriages waiting outside. While I had been less than pleased to take any sort of assistance from a man like him, I was glad that I would not be responsible for paying for housing during our stay. I suppose that man was good for one thing.

"Gustave, are you ready?" The carriage is here," I said. I stepped into the second bedroom, grabbing my cloak as I walked out of my own room, but stopped when I found Gustave fiddling with his tie in front of his mirror. "Is everything alright?"

"Papa, I can't tie this," Gustave said as he turned to me for support.

"Ah. Yes, they can be quite finicky. Allow me to help." I walked over and knelt down in front of him, taking the tie in my hand. "Well, you have the initial knot tied. Well done. Now, you simply repeat what you did before - pull it through here, wrap it around, bring it up, and then - do you see this loop here?" I asked as I looked to him for a nod of confirmation. "Pull it through that little loop, and tighten it a bit. Simple as that."

I got back to my feet and stood behind him, my hands on his shoulders as he straightened his tie. "Okay. I'm ready," he said, taking a deep breath.

"I know this is difficult for you," I said as I turned him around and tipped his head up so we locked eyes. "It's hard for me too. But, for your mother, we must be strong. I will be right there with you the whole time. You can do this - we can do this."

Gustave wrapped his hand around mine. "Thank you, Papa. I'm ready to go."

I laced my fingers with his, locking our hands together. "Come along then. We wouldn't want to be late."

~~~~~

We stepped out of the carriage and began our procession to the cemetery. Neither of us had said a word since we left the hotel, though the air between us wasn't awkward. It was stiff. Almost as if neither of us wanted to be here, in this moment, with the other. Hesitancy hung heavy in the air .

After a while of silence I turned to him and said, "You're absolutely sure you're up to this? Because if you aren't, nobody would blame you. Least of all me."

"I can do this," he said, looking out at the gravesite. He kept a placid expression on his face for the rest of the way, almost as if not showing his emotions would make them go away. I was truly hoping he wouldn't inherit that trait from me.

We arrived at the ceremony, only for me to see something that made my blood start to boil. Her tombstone read Christine De Chagny - not Daae. I know for a fact that she never changed her name. Her grave was nowhere near her father's as I was told it would be. I was enraged - Christine and I may not have ever discussed her funeral, but I knew that this was blatant disrespect of her wishes. She loved her father more than anything, and it would not be right to keep them apart in death. I knew exactly who was responsible for this, and he was taking a swig out of his monogrammed flask as we walked up.