Disclaimer: Well, you know I don't own a thing. So there's no use repeating myself.

Chapter 28: A Red Rose

Erik remained a recluse for about a week after reading the paper. I was not allowed into his presence, so it was a mystery to me whether or not he ate or drank. I was concerned for his health, but I knew better than to risk his anger. We did not need a repeat of that night many moons ago.

They buried Christine two days after the article in the paper came out. Almost everyone who was left in the city came out to attend. She had been well known and loved; never loosing her sweetness with her fame. I felt bad for Raoul. If her death was a blow to Erik, how much more it must be to him!

I knew Erik went to the funeral. Don't ask how I knew. I just did. Nothing could keep him away from her in the end. I did not attend to funeral. A pity party was more what I needed, since my husband was choosing to lavish love on the dead rather than the living. I was getting fend up with his constant hiding out and wanted him to join the real world.

Eventually, he did. After that first week, I was allowed back into his presence. He was tenser than he used to be. A few more wrinkles appeared around his eyes. It looked to me like he had aged over thirty years in that one week. His hair had more grey in it than before. When I walked in, he smiled in an attempt to look normal. I saw past it. Nothing would ever be normal. His one true love had died. A broken heart was never easy to conceal.

"I'm sorry, Erik, for everything." I whispered, kneeling down next to him. His hand found my chin and lifted my face. I gazed into eyes I had loved for over fifty years, my heart breaking as I saw new sorrow behind them.

"You've done nothing wrong, my dear. And I'm sorry to have kept you waiting this long. I know it is hard being alone." I simply nodded. "Come." He said, standing up and taking my hand in his. "I'm hungry." I almost laughed. So, we went downstairs and ate.

Two years passed. The war ended and Paris was freed from the threat of the Germans. Many of our lost sons and daughters returned. Plans were made to rebuild what had been destroyed. We watched with great happiness as the city returned to normal.

Our lives didn't return to normal, however. Erik was quieter and less apt to share his thoughts with me. I was regulated to some back corner of his mind while Christine was in the forefront. The blow hurt, but I just dealt with it. I knew coming into the marriage that he still loved Christine.

September of 1919 came and I was busy mending some of Erik's pants. Thread and the like had been in short supply during the war and now that it was over, I had to mend almost everything left unattended those four years. Erik had worn those poor pants down to the bare threads. I'd have bought him a new pair, but he wouldn't hear of it.

As I sat there mending, he burst into the room. His eyes were a light and he waved a piece of paper in my face. I could have sworn Erik suddenly looked thirty instead of seventy-nine.

"Have you heard? Have you heard, Elizabeth?" I politely shook my head. What had happened now? "They're auctioning off pieces of the old opera house." He flung himself into an unused chair. "Can you believe that? My opera house and they're selling it!"

"Don't work yourself into a frenzy." I replied, laying down my mending. Age had made me more docile. "It was never technically your opera house to begin with, anyway." He glared at me. I ignored him. "Are you going to go and see if there's anything you want?" He shook his head.

"No, but this is the perfect opportunity to do something I've been wanting to do." He withdrew from his shirt the necklace and Christine's ring. "Elizabeth, I've wanted to give Christine her ring back. One last memento from her Angel. I haven't had the opportunity because Raoul is constantly at her grave. I dread running into him." He shuddered and long forgotten hatred sprang into his eyes. The flame died as quickly as it came. "He'll no doubt go to the auction. During that time, would you take me to the grave yard? Please?" Erik was suddenly a little child again, pleading to have his way in this matter. I acquiesced.

"All right. We'll go." I picked up my mending again. Erik grabbed my hands, the pants falling to the floor. He planted a kiss on my lips and smiled at me. I couldn't help smiling back.

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

We found ourselves a few weeks later in a carriage, heading for Paris's magnificent graveyard on the outskirts of the city. If you've never been there, I would recommend it. Not because it is a lonely, destitute place, where ghosts walk, but because of the interesting sculptures and gravestones. There were twenty foot tall men with swords and crying virgins and angels of every description. It was my first visit to the Parisian graveyard and I was impressed (Louise had been buried out in the country and not in this graveyard).

Erik had worried all week as to how he was going to give Christine her ring back. He refused my help so I just watched him walk back and forth around the room. I knew an idea hit him when his eyes sparkled and he started mumbling.

"What a perfect way. A perfect way it is. And he'll know. Oh yes, he will know. Her Angel would never forget her. I would never forget her. The black ribbon for my despair and the red rose for my love. The ring is hers and to her it must go. Let him beware if he so much as tries to take the ring from the rose. We are inseparable."

So my husband ranted and raved. I was scared he was going insane and was on the point of calling the men in white coats when he bade me be calm. Nothing was wrong with him; he was just slipping back into old habits. Age made one regress to old ways, he said. Old habits? Old ways? I'd never seen him mumble so in all my years here, but I let it drop.

The day was overcast as we made our way around gravestones. Leaves stirred by the wind whipped by us and joined their fellows in games of tag. I couldn't see anyone in the graveyard, for which I was very much relieved. Christine was buried near her father's grave. Her headstone contained a picture of her, with the dates of death and birth, as well as a little saying about her being a wife and mother.

Erik traced her picture with his gloved hand. Tears fell from his eyes. I stepped back to give him some time alone with her. My nerves were taunt, for what if Raoul suddenly came? That was one encounter sure to doom them both.

"My great love." Erik whispered, kneeling in front of the stone. "Why did you go with him? Why, my angel? I would have given all for you. And now here you lie, under cold earth and stone. Will we ever meet again in the hereafter? Time will shortly tell. Time will shortly tell." He placed his offering on the corner of the stone.

It was a red rose with a black ribbon tied on its stem. I knew this was his gift to her in former days, when she was still his student. I remembered his words, "A black ribbon for my despair and the red rose for my love." I shuddered. My lover was morbid. Tied within the ribbon, was Christine's engagement ring.

Erik stood and looked over at me. He gave me a weak smile and extended his hand. I took it and in silence we left the last resting place of Christine de Chagny. It was the first and last time Erik would ever see it.