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.
"Angel"
"Spend all your time waiting,
for that second chance,
for the break that would make it okay.
There's always some reason,
to feel not good enough,
and it's hard at the end of the day.
I need some distraction.
Oh, beautiful release.
The memory seeps from my veins.
Let me be empty,
and weightless and maybe,
I'll find some peace tonight.
In the arms of the angel,
fly away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
and the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage,
of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of your angel,
may you find some comfort here.
So tired of the straight line.
And everywhere you turn,
there's vultures and thieves at your back.
And the storm keeps on twisting.
You keep on building the lies,
that you make up for all that you lack.
It don't make no difference.
Escaping one last time.
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh!
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.
In the arms of an angel,
fly away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
and the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage,
of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel,
may you find some comfort here.
You're in the arms of your angel,
may you find some comfort here."
Chapter Eight – In the Arms of an Angel
The striking pair moved hurriedly through the dark corridors of the opera house. With the lithe blonde in the lead, she never paused as she led her companion through the maze of passageways.
"Meg, please slow down a bit." Raoul gasped. "Not all of us practice dance with your mother!"
She scoffed haughtily at the winded young man.
"Monsieur le Vicomte, are you implying that a delicate flower of the ballet, such as me, has more endurance than a big, strapping young man, such as you?"
Coquettishly using all of her feminine wiles, she batted her eyelashes at him prettily.
He bent over with his hands clutching his sides and wheezed. He retorted weakly.
"No, not at all, Mademoiselle. I imply nothing. I am simply uttering a statement of fact!"
They laughed.
"Really, Raoul, we must make haste. Cook leaves for home soon and I really must bring back something for Christine to eat." The girl's eyes take on a faraway look for a moment. "She is acting so strangely. I have never seen her like this before. I am truly worried for her."
"Well, let it not be said that I lagged behind and denied Christine her sustenance! Lead on, my love!"
Quickly, he glanced up and down the corridor and after making certain there was no one to act as witness or to carry the tale to Meg's mother, he leaned down and placed a quick kiss upon the girl's lips. They stared deeply into one another's eyes, then holding out her hand to Raoul, he grasped it firmly within his own. Involuntarily, they sighed in unison, then, they continued their mad dash for the kitchen.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Monsieur Destler, my mother requested the honor of your presence … now!"
Erik remained leaning against the wall, as Meg's words echoed inside his head. The prospect of being in Christine's presence again left him feeling thrilled, nervous and almost overwhelmingly aroused. The girl literally was his angel. The angel of his dreams. Both savior and executioner. Glancing down, he frowned and attempted to adjust the evidence of his arousal. Shaking his head, he buttoned his coat and sighed.
"I guess there is no delaying this any longer. It is time for me to do the honorable thing. Fortunately, in this instance, the honorable thing and the thing I desire most in the world just happen to be one and the same thing. I can only pray she does not refuse me and can learn to love me, just as I learned to love her years ago."
He pushed away from the wall, tugged at the front of his coat, smoothed back his hair and brushed off the sleeves of his coat. For what was most likely the first time in his life, Erik wished he had a mirror so he could perform a proper inspection of himself.
"This will have to suffice. Well, Erik, when one wishes to move from one place to another, one must move by placing one foot in front of the other and then repeat. The name of this simple action you cannot seem to perform is walking. Come, Erik, take little steps. If you do not at least take little steps, you will not get anywhere at all. And, she is expecting you. If you do not move, she may change her mind and not wish to see you again."
A second voice of his own creation joins the first voice inside his head.
"Who said she wanted to see you again, Erik? Christine did not ask for you. Madame Giry did."
A third voice thundered.
"Stop it! This is just wonderful! Now I am discussing myself in the third person inside my own mind. Just stop it. I will never know anything if I stay here in the hall. I will spend the rest of my life wondering about what might have been …. No, that will not do at all."
Inhaling deeply and then slowly releasing the breath, he turned, faced the door, raised his hand and knocked firmly on the rough wood.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Antoinette Giry knew her reputation. Point of fact, she had diligently worked on perfecting its development and she was no longer certain when the act had become the reality. She knew the ballet rats feared her wrath, which mostly revealed itself to them in the form of her cane stomping out her irritation on the floor. The gently soothing voice of her youth gave way to the tight, emotionless facade that found its only breach in her searing and often scathing sarcasm. She dressed only in black, not in mourning for her late husband, but in mourning of her lost opportunities. Although she attained her goal of prima ballerina, she had not been able to hold onto that prize for long. First, she became pregnant with Meg and just as she began to make her comeback from the pregnancy, she had fallen and suffered a spiral fracture of the tibia. That fall broke more than her leg. It broke her spirit and her heart. To protect herself, she chose to hide behind a mask of cold pride.
Tonight all of her carefully constructed defenses had been shattered. Years of effort, destroyed in an instant. Her mask torn away by Christine's angel and now, she must confront the man who was the unknowing gift of Christine's angel.
"I cannot do this with Christine present. I simply cannot. I doubt whether they will be able to concentrate on anything other than each other. Christine must retire to her room. It is as simple as that. He seems to be an honorable man. He will understand. Now, I must make Christine understand."
She leaned forward and gently ran her fingers through the girl's tangled mass of curls.
"Christine? Child, are you awake?"
"Hmmm …. Oh, yes, Madame. I am awake."
"I need your understanding. Can you hold your temper in check and listen to what I have to say?"
The serious, yet tender, tone of the woman pierced Christine's foggy consciousness.
"I will try, Madame. What do you need to say?"
"When I speak with your young man, I think it best if you not be present."
When the girl made no attempt at protest, she continued.
"I intend on asking him to carry you to your bedroom and I ask that you remain there. When Meg returns with your dinner, she will bring it to you in your room. Please eat as much as you possibly can. I need you to do this for me. Will you do this for me, Christine? Please?"
The girl sighed.
"Of course, Madame. I apologize for my outburst earlier. You did nothing to warrant it. I have no excuse for my behavior."
"Nonsense, child. You need not apologize to me. I only ask that you take better care of yourself in the future. You cannot neglect your health, especially not now."
"Thank you, Madame. I …."
A knock on the door cut the girl's words short and both women sighed. Antoinette rose from the floor and smoothed her skirt before walking to the door. After carefully arranging her features into their usual emotionless mask, she opened the door.
"Monsieur Destler, please come in. We have things we need to discuss."
"Yes, Madame. I am very much aware of the fact that we need to talk. How is Christine?"
The young man's eyes inadvertently strayed toward the divan, but he caught himself before he locked his eyes on the girl reclining there. His eyes and attention returned to the woman standing before him.
"She is better, but she still needs to eat. I think it would be best if she rested in her bedchamber rather than here on the divan. I do not think she should walk yet and as I am unable, would you carry her there for me?"
"Of course. Anything I can do to help, you only need but ask and I will gladly do it."
"Thank you, Monsieur."
The woman stepped aside and as she did so swept her arm toward the divan. After giving the woman a hesitant nod, Erik strode to the girl whom he thought of as his angel.
"Christine?"
Her eyelids swiftly lifted at the sound of his voice and both froze as their gaze locked. Neither the man nor the woman seemed to breathe and their eyes became dark with desire. After a moment, the man visibly trembled as a beatific smile spread across Christine's features. Their hands began to lift with the apparent intention of caressing one another's cheeks, but fell limply to their sides when Madame Giry cleared her throat. Erik blinked and Christine closed her eyes.
"Christine?"
Erik began again.
"I will take you to your room now, if you are agreeable with that."
"You may take me anywhere you wish, Erik."
The girl murmured so quietly that Erik barely heard her, but as the import of her words filtered into his mind, Madame lay a hand upon his shoulder. Her hand seemed to root him firmly to the earth and helped him maintain his calm.
"Perhaps, another time, Mademoiselle."
He uttered his reply with an almost imperceptible smile and then easily lifted the willing young woman into his arms. Turning to Madame Giry, he waited.
"Madame, if you would be so kind as to show me the way?"
She inclined her head and began to walk down a short hallway.
"Her room is just this way, Monsieur."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Laying Christine down on her bed and leaving her there alone was one of the most difficult things Erik had ever done, perhaps, it was only second to his having to decide between architecture and music. As he gently lay her down, she opened her eyes and stared at him. She spoke not a word, but her eyes roiled with a mass of turbulent emotions that left him weak and completely enthralled by her.
"With Madame's permission, I shall check on you before I depart for my home, that is, if you give your consent as well, Mademoiselle."
She smiled sweetly and nodded. He returned her smile with a very small one of his own.
"I may have something to ask of you before I take my leave of you this night, but I speak out of turn. You rest now, my dear."
He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss upon her brow.
"I await your return, Erik."
Author's Note: Well, here it is … Chapter 8! Hope you like it …. I send my sincere thanks to everyone that has left a review. You have fed my ever-growing addiction by reviewing. --ny