Epilogue

Paris, France, the Opera Populaire, 1896-Six Years Later, 7:00 PM

An American orchestra was playing that night. Charlotte de Chagny, Paris' resident shrew, was attending with her parents and older brothers.

Very few remembered that she was once a wonderful child, if not a bit free willed even then. But when she was ten years old, she was sent to school in New York. The rumor was that she was pulled out after four months. But the reasons why went as far as poor grades to horrid misconduct. None included the possibility of her falling in love with the Phantom of the Opera's son.

Charlotte strode into the door with her family on her Philip's arm. She was a fair jewel in her family, but her temperament was hideous. She was constantly named a beast by the others she knew, and she allowed them to think so.

They entered Box Five and took seats. Charlotte was guarded by both brothers on each side of her. Philip smiled at her kindly and she smiled meekly back. Philip understood why she was the way she was now and he was openly hostile towards their father on occasion, but always in the privacy of their home.

The music began. Haunting and beautiful, it mesmerized Charlotte more than anyone else in the room. It wasn't an opera, but a symphony with a singer. The tune was dark. The singer began her disturbing song. But Charlotte felt as though she could relate whereas everyone looked pale and drawn, but it seemed as though the singer was off-key a bit, so she couldn't help but wince a little.

The next song began and she was struck with recognition. She knew the song. She sung it before. She bit her lip, wondering if this was his music.

The next song did not include vocals and she knew for certain that it was his music. She stood and went to search for him. "Charlotte," Philip hissed. She turned to him, glaring. "You can see him later."

"After six years and now I know he's in the same building? How can you ask me to wait?" she whispered.

"If you could wait six years, then you can wait another hour or two. Sit down."

Grudgingly, she did so, fidgeting throughout the concert. Finally, it ended and she dashed out of the box.

"Mademoiselle de Chagny," a manager addressed. "The composer is speaking with the diva currently. It turns out that she didn't sing a couple of his songs correctly and he's not pleased with her, so if you'd just wait a moment—"

Charlotte was about to shout at the man when someone stepped out of the dressing room. "Dratted woman," he growled. "Are you people tone-deaf?" he asked the manager. "That woman can't sing for her life! Listening to her speak even makes my ears bleed!"

"Monsieur, I apologize, but—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses," he said, rubbing his temples. Charlotte couldn't stop staring at him. He glanced at her and blinked.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but you seem familiar—"

"Aaron?"

Time stopped for a moment. Aaron studied Charlotte's face for a moment and she wondered if he still knew who she was.

A smile split on his face and he kissed her gently. She answered, but it ended briefly. "Six years waiting to taste your lips again and now it's not enough."

Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

"Charlotte!" Papa shouted. "Where in the blazes did that girl run off to?"

Aaron smiled. "Dad's here too, we've been staying in his old home underground," he whispered. "Would you like to see?"

Charlotte nodded and followed him into an unused dressing room. He pressed something on the side of the mirror and led her through it. The passage was dank and dark, littered with rats, but that didn't bother Charlotte. They soon came to a lake and Aaron helped her in. He rowed them to a small island decorated with several beautiful works of art and figurines.

She looked around, but did not see Monsieur Destler anywhere. "Where's your father?"

"Out, he doesn't like staying here. Too many memories for him, ya know."

"Oh," she sat on the bench.

"I never forgot about you, if you're wondering."

"I know. I couldn't forget even if I wanted to," Charlotte answered. "Do the managers know that you're the…"

"No. No one knows. Many people forgot about the Phantom long ago. Some still remember, but not many."

"I see, so your father's safe."

"He doesn't like being here, but he decided he needed to come back if only for a little while."

Charlotte nodded. "Just like Amherst holds memories for us."

"Yeah," Aaron answered sitting next to her. "Sing for me."

"What?"

Aaron let his fingers fly across the keyboard. Having been unused for twenty years until Aaron and his father's return, the organ was tuned perfectly. "Sing," Aaron pressed.

"I don't know the song," she said.

"Then I'll sing with you, Little Lotte."

THE END

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