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.
There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
were unique as to color and size.
When she opened them wide,
people all turned aside,
and started away in surprise.
"The Book of Nonsense" – By Edward Lear
Chapter Nine – There was a Young Lady
She listened to the sound of the footsteps retreating from her bedroom. She longed to rise from her bed and fly down the hall after him. She felt an almost overpowering desire, no need, to claim the man she thought of as hers.
"How can I feel this way? I do not know anything about him. He is a complete mystery to me. I mean, I do not know what he does for a living or where he lives. I do not know if his parents are alive or if he has any brothers or sisters. I do not even know what his favorite color is. Yet, I feel as if I know everything about him. He makes me feel so … alive! I have not felt this way in such a long time that I can barely remember the last time I did. When he held me in his arms. When I looked into his eyes. Oh! His eyes and his arms. How strong he is. And, when he looks upon me, I know he sees me. Me, Christine Daae. He does not see the Opera Ghost or Crazy Christine. He sees beyond the mask I wear. He sees someone as lonely and lost as he is. His eyes were so full of longing …."
Her hand trembled as she raised it to run down the length of her arm, remembering the feel of his body pressing into hers. The passion she felt for this man thrust all other thoughts from her mind. She feared that if Madame could not extract his gentleman's pledge, she would never see him again and that thought frightened her.
"Please, Angel, please! Do not show him to me, only to take him away again. I could not bear it. I simply could not bear it. I need to know him and have him know me. More than that, I need to join with him. I burn for him. I ache for his touch! He is my destiny."
Her weary mind spun and Christine groaned, feeling nauseous.
"I hope Meg returns soon." She murmured weakly.
Propping her pillows behind her and scooting carefully onto her back, Christine stared up at the ceiling as she relived each and every word, look and touch visited upon her by Erik. Her attention is suddenly distracted from her thoughts by a subtle play of light and shadows on the ceiling above her. Joy filled her eyes as she recognized the shape. She smiled and addressed the winged shadow above her.
"Hello, my Angel! I do believe I am in your debt. Please accept my most sincere and heartfelt words of thanks. Now, if you will hear this one last prayer and carry it on your swift wings to heaven I will be eternally grateful. Please, Angel, please! Let us be together, let us be happy and let us find our way to the seat of sweet music's heavenly throne. I will beg of you only this and nothing more. Amen."
Christine smiled weakly. Then, turning her head to one side, she closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Lights blinded her so badly that she could not at first determine exactly where it was she stood. The sound of an orchestra began to fill the air all about her as they played the introduction of an aria. She recognized that music. It was from the opera, "Hannibal." It was at that moment of realization that she noticed she was wearing a beautiful white dress. Startled, she lowered her eyelids just enough to cut the glare of the lights. She almost let out a gasp as she saw past the lights out into the crowded auditorium of the opera house. She stood upon the center of the stage. The audience sat and attentively waited for her to sing. She heard her cue and without missing a beat, began to sing.
"Think of me,
think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye.
Remember me, once in awhile.
Please promise me you'll try.
When you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free,
if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me!
We never said our love was evergreen
or as unchanging as the sea,
but if you can still remember, stop and think of me!
Think of all the things we've shared and seen.
Don't think about the way things might have been.
Think of me,
think of me waking, silent and resigned.
Imagine me trying so hard to put you from my mind.
Recall those days look back on all those times.
Think of the things we'll never do.
There will never be a day when I won't think of you!
Flowers fade.
The fruits of summer fade.
They have their seasons,
so do we.
But, please promise me that sometimes you will think …
ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah ...
ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah …
ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah …
of me!"
Her heart soared along with her voice and as she came to the end of the song, she was stunned to hear the sound of applause. She lifted her eyes to the audience and froze. They were on their feet applauding her!
"This is my first standing ovation."
And then the stage around her became thick with single flowers and small bouquets, which members of the audience tossed as a sign of their appreciation and approval. She curtsied deeply, closed her eyes and bowed her head in silent acknowledgment of their gifts. She raised her head and gasped. The opera house and the crowd were gone. She stood at the bottom of a set of stone stairs, which led to her parent's mausoleum. She shivered and noticed that snow swirled lightly around her. Gone was the lovely white dress. She was clad in a simple black skirt and a plain white blouse with a black lace shawl draped about her shoulders. In her hands, she carried a small bouquet of dying roses. Her limbs felt heavy with her grief as she climbed the steps. As she trod upon the final tread, her legs succumbed to her lethargy and she collapsed. She lay weeping in the snow, missing a mother she never had and a father gone too soon. She felt a gentle, but firm hand on her shoulder and raised her head. He was clad all in black and his face hidden within the hood of his cloak. Releasing his hold on her shoulder, he offered her his hand, which she immediately accepted. Her eyes focused solely upon the elegantly gloved hand, she failed to notice that the scene about her had shifted once more. As she tore her eyes away from her companion's hand, she gasped in shock. She stood before a priest, the snowflakes, which had come to rest on her head, transformed into a veil of sheerest white taffeta. The man, whom she now recognized as Erik, smiled at her. She could see the quiet joy in his eyes and then he turned to face the priest. Suddenly, the priest's voice boomed as it recited the marriage vows. Christine felt all eyes in the room turn in silent expectation towards her.
"What …." She began hesitantly.
"Well, do you?" The priest's voice sounded both amused and impatient.
"Père, do I what?" Her small voice queried.
Sudden laughter sounded all around Christine. She attempted to flee from the mocking cacophony of voices all around her, but found she could not extricate her fingers from the firm grip of the hand possessively holding hers. Her gaze fell upon their joined hands and interwoven fingers. Her eyes ran up the black clad arm and halted as she locked her gaze with the man's beautiful deep emerald green eyes. The warmth of his eyes brought peace to her soul and wrapped her body in a blessed silence. He arched his eyebrow and inclined his head in the direction of the priest.
"And, what answer do you give, Christine?" The man in black inquired.
"I do." She murmured.
She found herself returning Erik's radiant smile. He leaned forward, lifted her veil and kissed her chastely on the lips. Their kiss deepened and Christine moaned as Erik's tongue moved to explore her mouth. The couple trembled as one in anticipation of their joining. Their hands moved and caressed one another's bodies.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Suddenly, the hand that caressed became a hand that roughly shook her and Christine's eyes flew open to find a concerned Meg sitting next to her on her bed. Raoul, who was scarlet with embarrassment, stood near the door, his eyes averted from the girls on the bed. Attempting to hide her disappointment at the loss of Erik's embrace, Christine snapped curtly at Meg.
"What do you want?"
Meg pouted and then called to Raoul.
"Raoul, please bring the tray."
Meg stood and frowned. Christine's eyes had always made her feel strange. Whenever she found her gaze locked with Christine's uncanny stare, she had to avert her eyes quickly lest her friend draw her in too deeply and she become lost in their warm brown depths. She shook off the disturbing thoughts and returned her mind to the purpose of her visit.
"We brought you your dinner, Christine. Maman said you should try to eat. That you need to eat more than you need to sleep."
Christine sighed, looked at her disgruntled friend and spoke to her with an earnest sincerity.
"I am sorry, Meg. You startled me out of a most pleasant dream. Please forgive me."
Hearing the genuine contriteness in Christine's voice, Meg turned back to her friend.
"Oh, Christine! There is nothing to forgive. Now, look! We brought you a wonderful meal!"
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
"Please, Monsieur Destler, have a seat."
Madame graciously indicated the armchair across from hers near the fireplace.
"Merci, Madame Giry."
The tall, lean man folded himself into the chair. His earnest eyes met the older woman's appraising gaze. He leaned forward, resting his forearms upon his thighs and nervously clasped his hands. Madame thought she could read a myriad of emotions blazing across his face, but gave him no sign of her own emotional turmoil. She patiently waited for him to begin. Erik suddenly became certain that if he did not convince this woman of his honorable intentions towards Christine that he would never see her again and that thought thoroughly frightened him.
Several moments passed in strained silence before Erik broke the stillness.
"Madame, due to the unusual events, which occured this evening, I feel compelled to provide you with information about who I am and my intentions in regards to Mademoiselle Daae. My name is Erik Charles Destler. I am 30 years old and was born and raised in the town of La Rochelle. My trade is that of an architect and engineer and I am the proprietor of Destler Designs. I employ a staff of eight and I have signed letters of intent for work, which will keep my firm engaged for at least the next three years. My profession provides me with a comfortable income. I own my own home here in Paris on the Rue Saint-Etienne du Mont. It is just off the Place du Panthéon in the 5ème Arrondissement. The house is in between the Sorbonne and the Pantheon. I employ a household staff of four. I believe I am an honest and fair man with no enemies of which I am aware. While I do not make any claim on Mademoiselle Daae's affections, I hold her in the highest regard and I have nothing but noble intentions towards her."
He paused to take a breath and then continued.
"Madame, are you the guardian of Mademoiselle Daae?"
Antoinette bit her lip to suppress the grin that attempted to spread across her lips.
"I was, Monsieur. However, Mademoiselle Daae is 21 years old and is no longer a child. However, I do stand in the place of her mother and father, if that is what you are attempting to ascertain."
"Indeed, Madame. It is."
The man stood and crossed the short distance between the chairs, halting directly in front of Madame Giry. He stood looking down upon her and then gave her a half-bow.
"Madame Giry, I respectfully request your permission to ask Mademoiselle Daae to marry me."
Antoinette gaped in surprise. She thought the man would ask for permission to court Christine. She never imagined he would ask for her hand in marriage.
"Marriage, Monsieur? You do not even know one another. You have only just met. Surely, you should court her first before making such a serious proposal as marriage."
Erik turned from her and she could see his hand reach up to the right side of his face.
"Surely you must realize that courtship will be nigh impossible for the two of us, Madame. You have witnessed our meetings. I have never encountered a person that makes me forget myself as Mademoiselle Daae does. And, I seem to have the same effect on her. If I were to court her, I fear for her reputation. I am only a man albeit an honorable man and I abhor the thought of sullying her character in any way."
He lowered his hand and turned to face the woman.
"Therefore, I believe a proposal of marriage to be the perfect solution. Surely, you must agree with me."
Antoinette carefully studied the solemn face of the man. She could see no dishonesty in him, only an open and earnest sincerity. It was as plain as the cane she carried with her everywhere. He loved Christine. Time made no difference when love came at first sight. She sighed and smiled gently.
"Very well, Monsieur. You have my blessing to ask Mademoiselle Daae for her hand in marriage. However, should she refuse …."
"I do not believe she will, Madame."
Antoinette held up her hand to silence Erik.
"Monsieur, please allow me to finish. If she should refuse your proposal of marriage, I offer my approval for you to court her. Again, as long as she is amenable to such an arrangement."
Erik stepped forward, holding out his hand to Antoinette. She lifted her hand. He caught it in his, raised it to his lips and pressed a brief kiss to the back of it. Then, releasing her hand, he bowed as he spoke.
"Madame, you have my deepest thanks. Please know this, if she consents to be my wife, I shall endeavor to make Mademoiselle Daae the happiest woman on the face of this earth."
Smiling and shaking her head, the woman replied.
"You had best keep your word, Monsieur. I wield a wicked cane and would not hesitate to use it upon your skull should Christine be anything but blissfully happy."
The man started and at the worried look, which clouded the man's eyes, she chuckled. After a moment, he joined her.
Author's Note: My thanks to GerrysJackie, TheWickedWitchofOz, Timeflies, Mominator, Lady Winifred and PhantomFan13 for your reviews! You Rock! To all others, please continue to read and review! Reviews are ALWAYS welcome, no matter how old the chapter is. I check FFN's website often as reviews provide inspiration for the current chapter I am writing! --ny
MY MOST SINCERE AND GRATEFUL THANKS TO "Ineluctability" FOR THE FFN WORKAROUND! YOU, MY DEAR, ARE A TRUE SCHOLAR AND A GENTLEWOMAN!!! The posting of this chapter would have been delayed several days if it had not been for your assistance! --ny