The Perfect Solution
An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2007
DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.
You've Got a Friend
When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, ooh, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.
You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
You've got a friend.
If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you got to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you.
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.
You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don't you know that,
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend?
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend?
You've got a friend.
James Taylor
Chapter Two – What are Friends For?
He looked into the mirror, fussing with his cravat for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night.
"Still not right, dammit!"
Muttering, he sighed irritated with himself.
"What does it matter anyway? No one is going to see me, but for Raoul and Phillipe. It is not as if I had someone to impress or ever could have someone to impress."
Raising his eyes to inspect his image in the mirror, he attempted an honest appraisal of the man looking back at him. His thick golden brown hair was expertly styled to hide the places where his deformity would not allow hair to grow. His hair appeared normal, as did the left side of his face, most of his forehead, all of his chin, half of his nose and all of his lips. He turned his head to the right, hiding the right side of his face.
"Why can I not look this way on both sides?"
Another sigh escaped his lips.
The dream had been exceptionally vivid and relentless the night before. Today, he felt tired.
Turning his head to the left, he renewed his assessment of his features. The most noticeably marred part of his face was the area around his eye. The lower lid seemed atrophied and the eye sunken. He had no discernable eyebrow and the flesh of his lower forehead and cheek seemed twisted or, perhaps, slightly melted, giving his skin, the appearance or texture of clotted curds. When he had first ceased to wear the masks, his face had been mottled and pale. The years of exposure to the air and the sun had much improved his skin's appearance. The overall tone of the skin was good and appeared healthy, unlike the jaundiced appearance of his childhood. Perhaps, his face was not the horror he thought it. With one final tug to his cravat, he left his room to go downstairs to wait for his friends.
"Why did I ever let them talk me into this?"
He knew it was the irrepressible Raoul's fault that he was subjecting himself to this night on the town. Only Raoul could pester him into agreeing to attend tonight's gala at the Opera Populaire. It was not that he did not like attending the opera. What he did not like was people seeing him at the Opera. The inevitable staring that preceded him and whispering that followed in his wake. He took some comfort from the fact that no one screamed or fainted in his presence, as he once feared they would. Still, he was lonely.
Walking down the wide, curving staircase, which led to a large, marble foyer, he pulled at the cuffs of his shirt.
He swore.
"Merde!"
He had forgotten to put on his cuff links. Just as he turned to walk back to his room, the doorbell rang and he could hear a cane rapping on his door.
"Damn that Raoul! If he chips the paint on the door again, I am going to paint it using that fop's hair!"
"Elaine!" He called aloud. "Please answer the door and tell the brothers I will be right down, please?"
As always, his housekeeper appeared as if from out of nowhere and made her way to the door.
He quickly grabbed the emerald cufflinks from his bureau top then slipped them into the pocket of his waistcoat and hastily, returned to the entry of his home. The sight that greeted him from the top of the stairs caused him to grin and he had to suppress a guffaw. Raoul, as usual, was teasing the prim and proper Elaine with his roguish sense of flirting. His housekeeper ignored the boy and somehow sensing her employer's approach, turned towards him and held out her hand to him as he went to walk past her.
"Monsieur? Your cufflinks, please?"
All three men smiled and rolled their eyes simultaneously. Erik retrieved the links and handed them over to his imperious housekeeper. Silently, she expertly threaded the links through the cuffs and secured them. She nodded her satisfaction and gazed into the master of the house's eyes softly smiling at him.
"Shall I be expecting you late, Monsieur?"
She solicitously inquired. Erik returned her regard and nodded to the older woman who appeared more like a noble than the two gentlemen who flanked her.
"Yes, of course. We are going with Raoul, after all."
With a nod of her head, the woman withdrew from the entry and the men exited the house. Raoul began to shout out his protest at Erik's remark, but with a swift severe glance from his older brother, the young man stifled his overly enthusiastic response. He grumbled.
"Aw, Phillipe! You are no fun any more!"
"And you, Raoul, never learn. Come, you two or we shall be late! I need to pay La Sorelli a brief visit before the opera begins or there will be hell to pay!"
The men climbed into the awaiting carriage and with a thump of Phillipe's cane on the roof of the carriage, the conveyance lurched forward.
The older man still cut a dashing figure in his evening attire even though the barrel chest of his youth was now beginning to slide to his waist and his blonde hair now gleamed with streaks of silver. His face was ruggedly handsome lined only by the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. The feature women found most captivating was his smile, as it transformed him. Phillipe did not simply smile with his mouth; he smiled with his entire face.
Erik found Phillipe's comment amusing and could not resist teasing the man.
"Feeling a wee bit hen pecked, hmmm, are we Phillipe?"
The older man surprised the younger man when he responded mildly.
"And why is that considered such a poor situation in which to find myself? I believe that any man lucky enough to find himself a woman needs to realize just how fortunate he really is. Do you not agree little brother?"
As the question hung unanswered in the air of the carriage, the two older men turned to look at the younger man who stared dreamily out the window. Their eyes met and they both silently shook their heads. Erik rolled his eyes and Phillipe rubbed his hands together at the prospect of teasing his little brother.
"So, who is she little brother? She has you con comme la lune (looking stupid as the moon.)"
Raoul sighed softly, blinked and turned towards his brother.
"Did you say something?"
Both of the other men began to laugh at the younger man's confusion. Phillipe decided to give it another try.
"Raoul, it is time to spill the beans, man! You are mooning over a girl. Who is she?"
"Her name is Meg. Megan Giry. She is a dancer in the Corps de Ballet. She is such a handsome girl …."
He sighed and leaned his elbow on the carriage door. Then he placed his chin within the cup of his palm, he continued.
"You remember my friend, Christine Daae, do you not, Phillipe?"
"Of course, how could I ever forget her?"
Erik interjected, beating his friend to the punch.
"Christine Daae? The little girl whose red scarf you saved from the sea? That Christine Daae? Raoul, you have only told me that story every single summer day since I met you. What about her? What does she have to do with Mademoiselle Giry?
"Well, Christine's father died about twelve years ago and Meg's mother became Christine's guardian. So …."
"So, when you went to the opera house for mother and father to announce our patronage, you saw your little Lotte, renewed your acquaintance with her and then met Meg through Christine. Am I correct?"
"Precisely, Phillipe."
"Now, little brother, the only mystery remaining is whether or not you are sponsoring both young doves …."
The older man's eyebrows raised and he cocked his head at Raoul.
"Phillipe! That is positively repulsive! I would never besmirch a young lady's reputation by spreading such vile gossip about them. You are horrid! How could you speak of my Meg and little Lotte that way?"
The young man's face grew red and his breathing ragged, the more outraged he became.
Phillipe and Erik burst into hearty guffaws over the young man's discomfort, slapping their knees and holding their sides as their laughter shook their bodies. The younger man sputtered indignantly and turned his back on the two older men muttering under his breath.
In a sincere attempt to placate his young friend, Erik regained control of his mirth and placed a consoling hand on Raoul's shoulder, shaking his head at Phillipe.
"Come, Raoul, be honest. Your tale is easily misconstrued and after all, is that not what most patrons would do?"
Without turning to look at either man, Raoul answered furiously. His jaw clenched tight with anger.
"The actions of most patrons do not concern me. Nor, do I treat ladies in the manner Phillipe does. I take umbrage at your words. You mock the woman I intend to make my wife as well as another woman who I hold as dear to me as I do my sisters."
A mantle of tense silence immediately cloaked the occupants of the carriage. Erik's expression one of stunned surprise and Phillipe's expression one of horrified shock, which he quickly masked with a sarcastic remark.
"Oh, Erik, his righteous anger simply means he is unable to sponsor either of these girls as Madame Giry is most likely chaperoning them intensely. From the little La Sorelli has told me, the woman is quite the harridan."
Shaking his head and still directing his darkened gaze out the window, Raoul tersely remarked.
"Sometimes I wonder how we could be related, Phillipe. Truly, I do."
Erik, in a final attempt to restore the festive mood, remarked.
"Raoul, please calm yourself. You know how your brother dearly adores tormenting you. Please do not give it another thought. We are here to enjoy the opera and I do not intend to allow either one of you bores to ruin my evening. So, Raoul, after the opera perhaps you would be so kind as to present me to your ladies. I, for one, am curious to see the woman that has won your heart. Truly. I do not jest. Would you allow me to make their acquaintance?"
Raoul turned, his expression softened. He placed his hand atop Erik's hand and nodded.
"I will make the introductions after the performance, if you truly wish it."
"I do, Raoul. I can honestly say that I am very curious about both young ladies. Both of them must be very special for you to hold them so dear to your heart."
"They are, Erik. They are."
"Raoul, I do not believe that mother and father will feel as you do about this girl, but I will not oppose you or bring her to their attention, but have a care! There are many eyes at the opera and word will make its way back to them. I am certain they will be highly displeased, but forewarned is forearmed they say."
He shook his head sadly.
"You know so little of the true ways of the world. There is a vast difference between what is right and what simply is. I pray you do not have to learn that the hard way, little brother. I truly do. For both your sake and for the sake of the girl's reputation, you are, after all, of noble blood."
"Noble blood be damned!"
"Have a care and mark my words, little brother. You are not the only one concerned in this matter. Always have a care for the girl for when all is said and done, she is the one who will be made to suffer, not you."
Again the men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. The carriage rocked and swayed into a sharp turn bringing the Opera Populaire into view, which caused Phillipe to murmur.
"Thank God! I need a drink!"
Author's Note: This story is a "What if?" and based on "Madeleine's Chapter" from the novel, "Phantom" by Susan Kay. While the "what if" I borrowed from Susan Kay, Erik's appearance is movie-based as I am positive the man described by both Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay (and to some extent by Andrew Lloyd Weber's POTO musical) would not be allowed to walk in public without a mask without causing an angry mob to gather intent on lynching the poor man.
--ny