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.
Someday,
after mastering winds, waves, tides and gravity,
we shall harness the energy of love;
and for the second time in the history of the world,
man will have discovered fire.
Pierre Teilhard De Chardin
Chapter Twenty-Two – Fire Discovered
The girl sat in the dark on the cold, hard ground, crying into her hands. After a time, she looked up and around her. She frowned.
"Wonderful! Now, how am I supposed to find my way out of here?"
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
The gentle knock on her door startled Madame from her reverie and she immediately stopped her pacing. She stared accusingly at the door as if it were the lumber's fault a sound issued from it and not the fault of the person rapping upon it. Her shoulders sagged for a moment, before she regained her composure and drew herself up into her normally imposing posture. Clearing her throat, she called.
"I am coming! One moment, please!"
She turned to check her appearance in the mirror next to the door and was pleased to find she did not appear at all disheveled. She tucked a few wisps behind her ears and patted her hair. She then smoothed her skirts before turning to the door. She settled her features into their usual emotionless mask and opened the door. Seeing Erik Destler at her front door after ten o'clock in the evening surprised her so much that she felt almost proud of her self-control. She did not even arch an eyebrow or cock her head to indicate her curiosity. She simply stood before the doorway and stared at the man. Inwardly, she felt as if her jaw dropped to the floor. Gone were the stilted, formally dressed dandy of the night before and the hesitant, awkward gentleman of earlier this afternoon. In their place stood a man, confident, rugged, sensual. The man wore a dark brown cloak thrown back over his shoulders with the hood hanging down his back beneath the cloak she spied a ruffled white shirt which hung open to his waist to expose his firmly muscled chest. His chest was bronzed, smooth and hairless. His trousers were a lighter brown than the cloak and tailored to accentuate his narrow waist and hips. Antoinette's control slipped and she found herself in such a state of shock that she lost focus for a moment and blinked. This new Erik smirked as he took note of her response. She retaliated by folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes. The man lazily arched his one eyebrow while he continued his sardonic smirk.
"Good Lord! Are all my worries to confront and confound me? What in heaven's name has set him on this path? I worried over this man's repressed emotions. I wondered what would happen when he released them. Heaven help us! I do believe Monsieur Destler is sans masque tonight!"
She escalated the silent competition by tapping her foot. His smirk slid into a long, lazy grin. He dipped his head forward as way of greeting the woman.
"Madame, I know it is late and I humbly apologize for arriving on your doorstep at this hour unexpected, but could you find it in your heart to allow me to call briefly on my fiancée?"
He flashed an irresistible smile, folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned against the door jamb.
Antoinette felt a rush of warmth run through her body. The man simply exuded an air of sensuality, but she knew he held no interest in her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body and see the smoldering fire lit within his eyes.
"Madame?"
"Monsieur, may I have your word that you will comport yourself in the manner befitting a gentleman and treat Christine with the respect she deserves?"
The woman's words cooled Erik's heated mind somewhat. Riding Caesar never failed to exhilarate him, but witnessing Caesar's excitement and subsequent attempt at mounting a mare in the stable along with his own earlier self-indulgence had driven the man into an almost frenzied state of arousal. Every nerve ending of his body screamed for Christine's touch. He hung suspended between his need to take her and his need to do the proper thing. His body moved with the grace of a panther hiding the turmoil of his mind behind the fluid movements of the predator as he slid from the door jamb and entered the room.
"Well, Monsieur?"
He almost growled at the woman, but restrained himself at the last moment thinking that reaction would not be helpful in his quest to see Christine.
"Of course, Madame. You have my word as a gentleman, as the man who loves Christine above all others and desires more than words can say for her to be my wife."
"Very well. Wait here. I will fetch her for you."
The woman turned and made her way down the short hall. She knocked on Christine's bedroom door, waited a moment and then knocked again. After another short delay, Erik heard her call to Christine and then the woman opened the door. The sound of the woman's soft cry of alarm had Erik down the hall and at her side before she could even turn to call for him. She gasped as she backed into the man's broad chest. All of her previous control gone. Antoinette turned to Erik.
"She is not here, Monsieur! She is gone!"
Antoinette watched as the confident facade fell away from the man and the repressed gentleman returned. Erik looked around the quiet, neat and obviously empty room.
"Well, at least it is obvious to me. I can feel whenever she is near."
"When did she go out, Madame?"
"No, you do not understand, Monsieur. I did not see her go out, nor did she tell me of her intention to leave. I believed she had gone to bed, but it appears the opera ghost needed to prowl tonight."
"How can you be certain of this?"
The woman walked to the wardrobe, opened the doors and rummaged through Christine's clothes.
"Her breeches, boots and cloak are gone. She only wears those things when she's skulking about the opera house."
The man's stunned expression would have been ludicrous except for the fact that Antoinette knew he loved the girl and felt concern for her safety. She attempted to calm his now frazzled nerves.
"You do not need to worry. She knows the opera house better than any person save, perhaps, Monsieur Garnier does. She may simply be visiting the chapel. She goes there often to talk to and pray for her father. Come, I will show you the way to the chapel. If she is not there, if you call out to her from the chapel, she may hear you in whatever passageway she lurks in tonight. Sound carries strangely in that room."
"Thank you, Madame. I appreciate your kindness. Please direct me to the chapel. I am unused to this side of Christine and I must admit it causes me great consternation. Now, please do not believe that I think any less of Christine. I hold her in the highest regard. I simply hoped that she would not feel the need to stalk about as a phantom in this opera house any longer."
The woman smiled sadly at the man.
"Monsieur, have faith. I am certain her need to cling to such ways will diminish in time. She cannot completely change her ways in a single day, but already I see a light in her eyes, a happiness that I have never seen there. I believe you are the cause of that light and I know all will be well now that the two of you have met."
"Thank you, Madame. I swore to you that I would do all in my power to make Christine happy and I intend to hold true to my word. Now, please, after you, Madame. I would like to pay a visit to the opera ghost's chapel."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
The man swept through the dimly lit corridors, barely taking in his surroundings. His mind focused at last on a single purpose, to find Christine. So intent was he on his thought that he almost passed the small, dusty passage leading down to the chapel. Fortunately, he noticed a gleam of light out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the word, Chapel, painted above the path's arched entryway. He slowed his pace to a cautious walk and carefully descended the rough pathway. He paused at threshold to peer inside the small room. The only source of light in the room was several guttering votive candles, the gaslights extinguished for the night. His eyes searched the shadows, but he could not see anything, it was simply too dark.
"Christine? Are you in here?"
A faint mumble caught his attention and he rushed into the room.
"Christine?"
He held still, careful not to make a sound before he called again louder.
"Christine?"
Another mumble. The man became certain his fiancée was in the room, somewhere. Carefully, he began to walk into the room, making his way to the rack of votive candles.
"Come to me, Christine. I need to know that you are all right."
"Angel?"
Christine's whispered voice echoed around the room, heavy with sleep.
"No, Christine. It is Erik. Christine?"
The man almost jumped out of his skin when the shadow before his feet moved and stood.
"Oh my God!" He thundered.
The shadow became a figure. Erik saw two black arms reach up and push back a hood, revealing a mass of chocolate brown curls.
"Christine!"
Erik rushed to her and scooped her up into his arms, hugging her to him tightly in relief.
"Umph! Erik!"
The startled girl groaned and then giggled.
"Put me down! Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"Only where you are concerned, my dear."
He looked down upon her upturned face and felt his restraint give way to his desire. He leaned down and kissed her passionately. Her mouth did not respond at first, but then she snaked her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer and parted her lips slightly. Erik immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue tangled with hers and his mind lost in a blissful haze. He groaned and sank to his knees, the power of his need sapping the strength from his legs. His hands began to run down her back and up into her hair. Christine's hands ran through his hair and then caressed his face. The feel of her touching his marred flesh broke through the little restraint he had left and when he next broke from her lips to breathe, he realized his body now lay atop hers on the floor. He pushed himself to his knees.
"Oh my God!" He murmured, stroking her cheek. "I want you so very much. Oh, Christine!"
The girl smiled up at him and then pulled him back down to join his lips with hers. Their movements becoming wilder by the moment. His hands moved to her front, one cupping her breast and the other, her mound of Venus. His hips began to move against hers when they both cried out in sudden pain and both pushed away from the other.
"What the hell was that?"
Christine's hands fumbled for a moment within the folds of her cloak.
"Ow! Dammit!"
She pulled her hand from her cloak and in it was a smooth, black object, which glittered darkly in the candlelight. Erik leaned forward, curious.
"What is that?"
Christine held the black stone to Erik and he picked it up.
"Careful! It is very sharp! It is obsidian. I found it tonight along the shore of the underground lake."
She stuck her bloodied finger in her mouth and paused, her head tilted to one side.
"Erik! Do you know what this means?"
Not being certain as to the meaning of her comment, Erik shrugged.
"That stone is my proof that I was not dreaming. I was there and if I was there, then so was he!"