White Roses

Disclaimer: Oh, woe to me! It is not mine, and never will be! Sheesh.

The Beginning

For several months, Antoinette heard nothing of Erik. From time to time she would steal down into the catacombs again and ring for Erik to come collect her, but she never got a response. Finally, she had simply abandoned the idea. She understood, of course. It was not as if Erik knew any other way of how to deal with disappointment. And, she consoled herself, at least he is not wreaking havoc in the opera house. Antoinette had been vastly relieved as the talk of the mysterious Opera Ghost died down. Ballet rats found new gossip. The new quickly took over the old. Things were almost back to normal.

Antoinette had willingly surrendered her prima ballerina status when Amandine was fit to dance again. The older girl, however, still maintained her spiteful attitude towards Antoinette - Amandine was not liable to forgive and forget. Antoinette found that she did not really mind. She did not care for such a fair-weather friend anyhow.

After the season ended, Antoinette found much more time to spend with Lucas Giry. The pair were oblivious to the fact that they were the main topic of gossip amongst the ballet dormitories. Always the constant question of whether Lucas would propose. Lisette and Élodie had even gone to the length of collecting bets from the other girls, all the while keeping this secret to Antoinette. All Antoinette knew was that she was blissfully happy.

x-x-x-x

Erik dolefully plucked out a few notes on the violin pizzicato before setting it aside. He found no joy in playing it now - the instrument only reminded him of Antoinette. Everything reminded him of her. So many times he had heard her ringing the bell across the lake, but Erik had never been able to bring himself to answer its call. Everything was an effort now - he seldom stole food anymore and would go for days without eating, growing skeletally thin. But Erik did not really care. What is there to live for now? he would think from time to time.

Tearing his eyes from the violin, Erik reached into the pocket in the violin case and withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper. He unfolded it carefully; it was almost tearing along the creases from being read so many times over the past few months. It had been almost a whole year since the 'incident' with Antoinette, as he referred to it when torturing himself with the memory. One day he had poled the gondola across the lake to retrieve the bell and found an envelope there with one word on it - "Erik". The next day, Antoinette had left the Opera Populaire.

'Dear Erik,' it read.

'I don't really know how to say this - but I have to leave. It is not you, by any means. I wish you well. Erik, please excuse my bluntness, but there is no other way for me to say this and I would so hate to torture you by drawing it out. Lucas and I are engaged. I hope you do not find this offensive in any way; I beg you shed no tear for this.

'We are leaving together not to be married, but simply to spend some time away from the opera house. I will never be a prima ballerina, and I am happier for it. I intend to apply for the post of ballet mistress when I am eligible, instead. Nevertheless, I will return within a month or two. You are in my thoughts and prayers and always will be. Please know this, Erik.

'I am so sorry that I cannot give you the love you deserve. I am sure that one day you will find somebody who can - an angel who will see your beautiful soul and appreciate your art. But Erik, when I return to the Opera Populaire, I will watch out for you. If nobody else takes you seriously, I will. I promise you that what you have to say will be heard. Erik - I love you like a dear brother. Remember me - I will always remember you.

'With all affection, Antoinette'

Biting his lip, Erik refolded the letter, his bony hands carefully ensuring that no harm came to it. He wanted to believe what Antoinette had written more than anything - that he could learn to love another. Erik could not see how, though. He stood and moved over to the pipe organ where pages and pages of manuscript lay, all covered with pieces composed for Antoinette. Pieces that nobody would ever hear. Steeling himself, Erik took the sheath of papers and moved into his neglected kitchen where a few glowingembers remained in the grate. One by one, he dropped each composition over them, thesparks turning to hungry flames, licking greedily as they devoured the manuscripts.He felt no remorse; he wanted to be free of any reminder of Antoinette.

Rid of months of compositions, Erik took a seat at the organ again, pulling out a blank manuscript and writing material. His hands hovered over the keys for a few seconds before they fell into place. Everything Erik felt - all the anger, hate, sorrow and guilt - he played until his hands grew numb and his arms ached. Erik looked over what he had feverishlywritten, critiquing it in his mind. It was very different to anything else he had heard of composed before. It was darker, imbibed with passion, anger and deceit. Erik took his quill and, dipping it into the last of the red ink wrote a title across the top of the page with a flourish - Don Juan Triumphant.

And in the years to come, some would claim to hear an organ played angrily through the silence of the night.

Author's note: I know it's short - sorry. For some reason it took me aages to write ...This is the last chapter, but it is NOT the end. Epilogue to come ... :mysterious music: But for now ... reviwer replies!

Baby-Vixen, that's a cool idea but unfortunately, I couldn't manage to fit it in. But thanks all the same - it was something I'd never really thought about ...

Midnight Princess, but of course! Erik's not Erik without a healthy does of insanity ;)

Minerva's Phantom, well, I suppose that's alright, then ;)

HPROXMYSOX, why don't we all say it together - one, two three! Poor Erik! And yeah, I try my best to stay realistic - thanks for noticing :)

Forensic Photographer711, he just can't win, eh?

Olethros, thank you! Quite frankly, I always find backstories more interesting than future-stories.

to lazy to log in, (I can relate!) thanks a bunch! I'm flattered and I'd be interested to read the 'phanphanphic' ;)

Gracie, well ... :pokes chapter: And I can, too.

I Love Gerry, sorry but nada on the E/M front ... but I think you figured that out by now ;) And thanks for pointing that out - I suppose I meant it as meaning 'involving little expense' ... well, that's what my dictionary said, anyway. Considering I mostly write late at night my brain probably wasn't taking in too much ...

Laura Kay:nods: Okay:got cracking updating as one can see:

Flagger, I think that you're the second person who claims that if I don't update you will go insane and/or require counselling. Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we:is confused as to whether being responsible for someone's mental health is a good thing: