A/N: Ok this is it. Now remember this story is supposed to be told like it is from a book. You know "A Ballerina's Tale" the whole title and prologue. I hope this somehow makes since. By the way it is suppose to be in second person. Once again I thank you for reading this. This story meant something special to me and I hope it was the same for you.
"Damien, I love you." Those were your last words Meg, you would ever speak again. They were words that would touch any man's heart, young or old. They were words that made me cry. You will always be my one and only love. I remember when I had first laid eyes on you. We were both young. You were small, pretty and were still training to become a ballerina.
When I had return to Paris at the age of twenty-eight I did not expect to see you ever again, but there you were once again dancing like the angel that I remembered. I knew I would never have your love. For what angel would lay their eyes on me. I was like any other man, but with a title. When you accepted my proposal, I swear all of Paris could have heard me.
Though you seemed happy throughout the years of our marriage, I later found out you were wearing a mask; a mask that hid the deeper parts of your heart that I wouldn't learn about till after our marriage; a part of your heart that I yearn for to this very day. I know now that I will never have it, but will forever belong to him.
You had been faithful throughout our marriage. Our children were your first priority. You have given me three boys and two girls. Our first daughter was named after your deceased mother, Antoinette Giry. You adored all of our children and they adored you. You would tell stories of being a ballerina to the girls and to our boys, the stories of the Phantom of the Opera. Those were the children's favorite story and it was the same for you. You told the stories with such admiration, that your eyes would gleam. I had only seen you like this a few times besides telling the stories. The first time was when I surprised you by taking you to England on our honeymoon. Not knowing at the time what was in store for me. The second was when you gave me an heir and the rest of our beautiful and accomplished children after that.
Our honeymoon wasn't the most pleasant honeymoon that I knew other young newlyweds had. Ours was more emotional, deeper. I remember every word you spoke, every tear that came out of your eyes. I couldn't look away when you told me the story of you and Erik. I was afraid if I looked away, I would miss something. When you told me that you were no longer a virgin, I wanted to kill the man who had done this to you. But when you told me you gave your body to him willingly I almost lost it; especially after you told me it was to the man who had been staying with you. And when you told me you were with a child it broke my heart. For many years I hated him. You begged and beg to keep the child and finally I gave in; for how could I ignore your eyes that are still in my dreams. I was not surprised when it was boy. You named him Erik Michel with no middle name.
We raised him like any other child, loving him the same. At first I wanted nothing to do with him, but I knew that I could not hate him; for he was just an innocent child that you loved so much. He grew up to be a famous composer like his real father and he married a young countess who you loved like she was another one of our daughters. For some reason you forbid me to tell Erik of the son that he had, for as long as you lived. I wanted to know why, but I knew that by telling Erik he would have to come back into your life which I knew would cause you too much grief.
At the time I did not understand the love you shared with him. A love that was far stronger than our love would ever be. I should have recognized the change in you when he came into our lives. I wish I could say 'our happy lives', but it would be lie. For you were not happy. You didn't have that gleam in your eye that seemed to return when Erik returned. Though I was hurt by the betrayal, I was happy, for you my sweet, Little Meg, had the courage to face me with the truth. You sacrificed your own heart, to give me happiness.
Though you never knew it, I had contacted Erik over the years; finding more and more parts of the story that you wanted to keep hidden from me. At first, he didn't write back. I was afraid that he would never, because I knew that he hated me as much as I did with him. And when I finally got a packaged, that told ever detail of how it all started, I respected him; for what man would put aside his anger and do something for a man he hated. I knew he wasn't doing this for me, but for you, Meg. To this very day I have the letters he sent me. Even the one that made me cry so hard, my maids came in to check on me.
You had seen Erik for the very last time in your life on the day of the auction at Opera Populaire. You had been there to see what memories you would like to leave behind for our children. You then had found Erik sitting in box five looking out at what was now his trademark. Erik wrote me a letter, my dear, telling me about what happen after we all saw him gallop off. This is what he wrote:
Dear Monsieur Michel,
This letter that you are reading is the last letter you will ever read from me. I have made my peace with you and the ghost of my past. Meg loved you. I know she did. Once upon a time I asked her if she loved you. Her very words were, "Yes. Yes, I do love him." Though they pained me at the time, I knew Meg's words were true. Now that I have told you about both Meg and I, I feel the need to tell you about this mysterious stranger who had as you once said "captured her heart".
After Meg married you, I went back to drinking and whores. I knew Meg would be ashamed of me, but I didn't care anymore. I had lost her to you. A few years later I left Paris, what I thought at the time for good. I went to America and was the manager of a small theatre in New York. I was very successful and soon opened up a bigger theatre that turned out to be even more successful.
It was my fifth year living in New York, when I somehow fallen in love with a singer. Her name was Rose Adams. She was beautiful with blonde hair that would always remind me of Meg. She was sweet, kind, and loving. She did not run from my face, but accepted it as it was. She and I had three children; two boys and one girl. They all luckily did not share my deformity.
I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had let Meg come with me. What would have happen if she chose me instead? I loved her more than anything, even if I fallen in love with another. But Meg and I will always share a kind of love that no one will ever share with me. It was or still is a love that will last a life time and beyond.
When I heard about the auction in Paris, I knew I had to go. It was time for me to make peace with the building that I had known since I was just a boy. So I went to the auction and there she was, prettier than ever. She was still the beautiful girl that I had fallen in love with many years ago. I watched her as she fought to keep the music box, but finally she gave in to the Vicomte de Chagny. When the auctioneer made the mistake of calling her "Madame Giry", I laughed, for she did look just like her mother.
I watched as she won a few items that to others seemed like nothing, but meant the world to her. She had won ballerina's slippers that I believed had belonged to her and a few of her mother's things that she had thought perished in the fire. There were other things that my old mind can not remember, but the way her face looked when she watched as the chandelier once again took its former place above the once red velvet chairs, I knew she was remembering all that happen.
I had watched her leave with the Vicomte, thinking that she had left for good, but when she appeared in the doorway of my old seat in Box Five, my heart yearned for her. She had just stared at me and then smiled. I could see the want in her eyes, but she refused to give in to her own desires. She then reached into her coat and pulled out the mask. I looked at her in shock and confusion. She laid it on my lap, softly touched my hand, and left, but not before I saw the single tear slide down her cheek.
If you go today to the grave of your beloved wife, Countess Marguerite Michel, you will find the mask that she returned to me a year ago and her necklace with a cross on it. I never told you that on the day of your wedding she took it off her neck and placed it in my hand. That was a detail I wanted to keep secret, but I could not bring myself to hide it anymore. I never showed my wife, but I believe she once found it, but did not say a word.
I am sorry to say that I will not be able to read your book, for how can I? It is all filled with memories that were so hard for me to even write down. I thank you for giving me the chance to tell my story. I know hearing our story was painful for you, but I think this gave you a chance to understand Meg more than ever. Like Meg once said, "life is unfair, Erik, life is cruel yet somehow sweet". Dreams had been shattered, hearts had been broken and I lost the woman I loved with all my heart, but she had taught me that we must move on.
From the man who Meg touched his heart forever,
Erik
As I write this letter Erik wrote, I cry. You meant the world to him and I know he meant the world to you. Though your heart will always belong to him, I will still always love you. You have touched the lives of two men who would willingly give you the world if you ever asked of it. It has taken me a long time to write this story, but I know that the world should hear it. The world needs it. Your story will go down in history and our children's children and their children will know it by heart. This, my love is to you; A Ballerina's Tale.
The End
