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.
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."
Alice didn't think that proved it at all, however, she went on. "And how do you know that you're mad?"
"To begin with," said the Cat, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?"
"I suppose so," said Alice.
"Well, then," the Cat went on, "you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad."
Excerpt from "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll
Chapter Six – We're All Mad Here
"Please, Monsieur. You must stay. After all, you and I, "…we're partly little beasts and partly little fowls.""
The man's hand involuntarily drifted to brush a stray lock of curls from the young woman's face, which caused him to flinch and her to hiss at the jolt of electricity exchanged in that simple touch. Yet, his hand remained at her face as he seemingly could not find the strength to draw away from her. His hand grew uncharacteristically bold and moved of its own accord to cup her cheek. After a moment, the girl leaned her head into his hand, her eyes dreamily drifted closed. She almost seemed to purr with pleasure at his touch. His thumb emboldened by her acquiescence to him, slowly followed the line of her bottom lip. Her eyes opened to lock with his. As his thumb moved across her upper lip, the girl swiftly opened her mouth and captured his thumb along the outer corner of her lips, where she placed a suggestive kiss on the pad of his thumb. In response to the kiss, both the man and the young woman's eyes closed as a gentle, yet powerfully erotic shiver ran through both of them.
All too soon, they found their moment of quiet bliss harshly ended by the words spoken in the grating voice of Madame Giry.
"I would like to know exactly what it is you think you are doing, Monsieur! And you, Christine Daae, what has gotten into you? Have you gone mad? This behavior is completely unacceptable! Monsieur, remove your hand from the Mademoiselle and leave us … now!"
The man sprang backwards at the woman's outraged words. His movement was halted abruptly as the young woman caught him by the wide lapels of his black tailcoat and held him with her surprisingly strong grip. She turned her usually calm and impassive gaze on the older woman, who suddenly took a step back as she gasped and placed a hand to her heart. The young woman's normally warm brown eyes now held flecks of brightly burning sienna and cinnamon, which gave them an otherworldly glow. Once again, her voice boomed into the silence of the room.
"I SAID, NO! Dammit! Do not make me repeat myself again, Madame!"
Erik involuntarily shivered as he could have sworn he felt the temperature of the room drop at least 10° as the quiet icy-cold voice of Madame Giry answered the young woman's challenge.
"Very well, I will not repeat myself Christine, but I am afraid I cannot allow you to stay here and I must ask you to withdraw. These are my rooms and I will not allow such inappropriate behavior to take place here. Behave as a proper young lady or leave. The choice is yours, Christine."
Once again, the room filled with a sound, but this time it was the sound of the young woman's bitter laughter.
"A proper lady, you say? A proper lady? Madame, surely you jest as you must mistake me for someone else. Since when have I ever acted or been expected to act as a proper young lady? Perhaps it was when I was mucking out the horse's stalls? Was it when my hands bled as I scrubbed pots? Or, better yet, was it when I donned breeches, climbed into the flies and …."
A man's quiet, gentle voice interrupted the girl's angry tirade with its soft, soothing sound.
"Christine …."
The man's melodic voice caught the girl's attention and seemed to entrance her with a single word. She ceased speaking, her eyes locked onto the man she held so fiercely.
"My dear, you are not yourself. Please allow Madame to help you. I shall be no farther from you than outside that door. I will not leave you. I give you my word. Please?"
She stared intently into his stormy green eyes as if she searched for an answer there. She released one of his lapels and Erik watched as her hand glided to his face. He sucked in a surprised breath as her fingers moved over his face. She gently traced and softly caressed the ridges, lumps, bumps and dips of his marred flesh with her fingers, which caused a soft moan to escape from the man's lips. Her hand continued its upwards journey and moved briefly to the top of his head, pausing only to run her fingers through his thick honey-brown locks. Her relentless hand traveled downwards now and when it met the back of his head, Erik realized her hand's adventure was at an end. She entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled him towards her. Rising to meet him, she drew him into a hard, wet kiss that was all too brief, before she released him. Her fiery brown eyes met his confused, yet aroused green orbs. She laughed and then graced him with a sardonic smile.
"As long as I have your word, Monsieur. I ask only one other thing of you."
"Damn! Only one thing?" He mused silently.
"And what do you ask of me, Mademoiselle?" His husky voice trembled as he spoke.
"All I ask of you is this: may I have your name, Monsieur?"
He blinked.
"I touched this woman. She touched me. She kissed me! And, she does not know my name. Is that not ironic?"
He stood, straightening his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. Clearing his throat, he gave the woman lying on the divan before him a slight bow. He gracefully bent and clasped her hand in his. He gazed deeply into her eyes and then spoke in a formal tone.
"Mademoiselle Daae, if I may be so bold as to perform this introduction myself, my name is Erik Destler, but I would be most honored if you were to call me Erik."
He bent and placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. Rising, he released her hand. He gave a brief bow to Madame and Meg and swiftly exited the room.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Ah, blessed silence, but for how long? Oh, I kissed him. Him … I kissed Erik and I hear the music again. Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Angel. Oh, Erik …."
"Christine Dahlia Daae!"
The shrill voice ended the girl's musings, bringing her back into the dark, cramped rooms beneath the opera house. She frowned slightly.
"I am right here, Madame. There is no need to shout at me."
"Christine … Maman … please do not argue. Maman, she is not well. Can you not see how pallid her face is? Can we not wait to discuss this until she is more like herself? Please?"
Meg's quiet and gentle voice soothed as it attempted to negotiate a truce between her mother and her sister. The pleasant sound of Meg's kind voice caused Christine's hard features to soften somewhat.
"She has always been so kind to me and did her best to protect me from the torment dealt out by the ballet rats. I owe her at least this moment of peace."
"Very well, Meg. I will act the part you wish me to play, but only for the moment." She returned her attention to the older woman. "Madame, please I feel rather unwell at the moment. I neglected to partake of nourishment and am now reaping the consequences of my foolishness. Please, help me."
The older woman's eyes narrowed as she gazed upon the frail girl reclining on the divan.
"Is this truly Christine? She has never given me one moment's grief since the day I brought her here. What has occurred to cause her to act thus? Has she fallen into madness? Oh Gustave, my friend, why did you promise to send your child the Angel of Music? What were you thinking? Well, Gustave, what do I do now? She believes your angel sent that young man to be hers. And, God help me! There is something between those two. I could feel the heat radiating from them. When they touch, I could almost see the sparks flying between them. I know they could feel them. You placed your daughter into my care. She is a child no longer, but a young woman. Yet, she is as innocent of the ways of the world as a child is. God forgive me! I thought her slow and she proved otherwise. Now, I thought her mad, but seem to be just as wrong. What am I to do? What do I do?"
With a heaving sigh, the older woman lifted her eyes in silent supplication and froze. Whether it was a trick of the light and the shadows or the answers she sought, she did not know. For a moment she was quite certain she saw a shape as it hovered near the ceiling above Christine. A heavenly shape. One with wings. An angel.
"Oh my God!"
She began and her eyes darted to Christine, who smiled broadly at her.
"The child saw it too. She knows."
"Maman! Are you all right? What is it? What is wrong?"
Meg cried, rushed to her mother's side, but the older woman shook her head and held out her hand to ward off her concerned child.
"It is nothing, Meg. I am fine. Do not worry yourself, child." She took a deep breath and continued. "Meg, please fetch me the jar of honey and a spoon, please?"
The girl looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded her head and walked to the next room.
Madame Giry moved to Christine's side and dropped to the floor. She brushed another errant lock of curls from the girl's face and hesitantly smiled.
"Well, Christine, it seems your father has kept his promise to you this night. I only pray that you do not forget that he is but a man. He is not an angel. Remember that child. Monsieur Destler is not an angel. Promise me that you will not forget and I shall not thwart you."
Brown eyes lovingly lock with smoky blue eyes.
"I promise, Madame. I truly promise."
They nodded and smiled at one another, each satisfied that they now fully understood the other.
"Megan Giry! Do not dawdle, child! I need that honey now. Then, I need you to run to the kitchen and tell Cook to give you some things. I will make a list of things I need, but you must hurry!"
The girl rushed back into the room with a brown crock and large wooden spoon. She handed the items to her mother.
"Maman, this is the only spoon I could find that would fit inside the pot."
"Thank you, Meg. This is fine. Now, dip the spoon into the honey and spin it until it does not drip. Then, feed it to your sister. I will go and write my note to Cook."
The agitated girl bobbed her head in understanding and opened the jar. She placed the lid on the small table next to the divan. She took her mother's place on the floor next to Christine and began to feed the honey to the now exhausted girl.
"Maman, how much should I give her?"
"Three spoons should be enough."
"Very well, Maman. Three spoonfuls."
The scratching of the quill on paper filled the otherwise silent room and then that sound ended.
"There. Finished."
The woman returned to the divan.
"I will take over, Meg. How many has she had?"
"Two, Maman."
"Very good. Here take this note to the Cook. You may have your young man accompany you to the kitchen. I would appreciate it if you would ask Monsieur Destler to join us once again. Yes, Megan. You heard correctly. Now, go!"
The now completely baffled girl nodded, folded the note, placed it in the pocket of her skirt and left the room.
"Well, Christine. I believe you will keep your promise to me, but I must also insist that the young man make a promise. He must promise to behave as a gentleman in regards to you."
"I understand, Madame. You must do as you will or you will have no peace in your mind. Only I beg that you choose your words carefully and your manner be kind. Can you do this for me? Please?"
"Yes, Christine. I will go easy on your young man. I know that you are fated to be together. I know that and you know that, but I do not know if he knows that, hence …."
"Hence, the promise."
"Yes. Hence, the promise."
Closing her eyes, the young woman smiled and murmured.
"My young man …."
Author's Note: As always, thank you to those of you who take the time to review! --ny