Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera
Second in the four one-shots series. I hope you all enjoy these little tales. And I'll like to thank Ram Jas for her lovely beta skills.
Past Love
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As 81-year-old Norma laid in her bed that had been hers and her past husband's, Fred, her mind began to wander. She had had a great life: a great husband, though he had been dead for 20 years now. Her children had grown up and had made something of themselves. Her grandchildren visited her all the time; in fact, they were in the next room, if she needed them. In case if she did, the darlings would run to her without complaint, but at the moment, she didn't need them. She reached over and picked out her small, old hand mirror. It had been a gift to her from her Fred. Looking into it, she didn't see the old woman that she had become. She didn't see the sliver hair, or the few wrinkles she had, or the tired blue eyes. No, she saw herself back when she was 20, and had fallen in love with Fred. She saw the beautiful chestnut haired, blue-eyed girl she once was. They had gone to see a new movie that had just come out. The Phantom of the Opera, with Lon Chaney. They were sitting almost in the front. She had loved the movie from the start. She loved the romance, and the devotion Erik had to Christine. When the unmasking scene had happened, instead of screaming like so many others had, she had sat there with tears running down her cheeks. Looking to her date, Fred, she saw that he too had tears in his eyes. It was then that she had fallen in love with him.
Sighing, she weakly laid the mirror down. If only she could thank the
Phantom for the love she had found on that day. Closing her eyes, she began to slip into a light sleep.
Norma slowly woke up when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Looking up she met the gold eyes of a tall man that was dressed in black.
"Oh! You are him aren't you? You're Erik!"
The man nodded. "Yes, Norma," he purred. "I believe you wished to say something?"
Norma's eyes widened. "I never imagined your voice to be so...so...so...beautiful." She reached out a liver-spotted, but still elegant hand. She lightly brushed his sleeve. "You are real!"
Erik laughed gently. "Of course. Did you think I wasn't?"
"I am old. I thought my mind was playing tricks." She retorted.
"No. Your mind is not playing tricks. Now, you wished to say something?"
"I did? Oh, yes I did! I want to thank you Erik. "
"Hmmm, whatever for?" Erik asked playfully.
"When I was 20, I was out on a date. His name was Fred. Fine-looking gentleman, but I was unsure. He always seemed cold and unfeeling. He took me to see a new movie. As a general in the army, he had connections. We were among the first to see a new horror movie. It was called The Phantom of the
Opera. It had starred Lon Chaney. We watched the movie, absorbed into it. Other people had forewarned me that it was too scary. Watching it I didn't think so. I loved the whole story. I love the declarations of love in it, either between Christine and Raoul, or you to Christine. When the unmasking scene came upon us," Norma's eyes got a faraway look, and Erik just sat there patiently waiting. He had all the time in the world, she didn't. "I heard everyone else scream, but I didn't. I began to cry. I cried at the unfairness of it all. Afraid that Fred would be disgusted at me crying and embarrassing him, I quickly looked to him to see if he had saw me. Imagine my surprise when I saw him crying as well! Afterward, he told me that he had felt the same way. It was then that I fell in love with him. So, in a way you brought me love. You save me from turning away from a good man. I thank you."
Erik's eyes twinkled mischievously as he stood. "Do you remember what you two did after the movie?"
Norma thought hard, and then smiled. "We went dancing. Fred said that the
Masquerade ball in the movie made him fell like dancing."
"Then does the Madame, feel like dancing one last time?" He held out a gloved hand.
"I would love to," she giggled like a little girl again, but it faded. "I'm too weak. I would fall."
"No you won't. Trust me." He took both hands and gently pulled her up.
Norma started to look around, but Erik drew her head back to him. "Look at me. Nowhere else."
She nodded, and stared deep into his gold eyes, as he slowly led her around the room, blocking her view of the bed. They danced for some time, but Norma never felt tired. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked back, and there, standing in front of her, was Fred. He looked the same as he had when she had first fallen love with him 61 years ago. Tall and handsome, with his black hair brushed back, but for one stubborn curl that refused to lay flat. His hazel eyes stared at her as if she was the only woman he had ever seen.
"May I cut in?"
Erik smiled and nodded. "Of course, Monsieur." Stepping back, he watched the two finish the silent dance.
"Shall we go home, Norma?" Fred asked.
Norma nodded. "Yes, lets go home." She turned to Erik and lightly hugged him. "Merci beaucoup, Angel."
Erik laughed at her stumbling French. "You are welcome, dear Norma." He told her as he patted her now chestnut curls.
She turned back to Fred. "Now, lets go home." He took her hand, and they both walked into the light that was beckoning to them.
Erik took on last look at the bed. Norma lying in the bed, her eyes closed, a small peaceful smile on her face, her hand mirror in one hand, and a rose in the other. He then turned and followed the reunited lovers into the light.
