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.
Where Everything Is Music
Don't worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn't matter.
We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.
The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world's harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.
So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.
This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.
Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!
They derive
from a slow and powerful root
that we can't see.
Stop the words now.
Open the window in the center of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.
Jalaluddin Rumi
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Where Everything Is Music
He nuzzled her furiously, his mouth devouring hers before slipping away again.
"So, you give yourself to the Angel of Music's chosen guide?"
He smirked.
"Yes, my husband."
His smirk deepened then froze.
"Wait! What do you mean that you will return to the stage again?"
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Her eyes met his with a look of honest confusion. The sudden and unreasonable anger that swelled in his chest and threatened to take over his mind began to subside. Her innocence acted as a soothing balm on his soul and healed the hurt, which caused his anger in the first place.
"Erik? What is wrong?"
Her voice wavered as she hesitantly met his burning eyes. He frowned as he noticed that her lower lip trembled slightly. He closed his eyes, embarrassed by his irrational reaction and lowered his head. He shook his head and decided to try again. This time he would control his foolish temper.
"Ma chère, I did not realize you had performed on the stage. It must have been long ago for Mademoiselle Giry and Monsieur de Chagny informed me that you have never performed at the Opera Populaire. I take it you performed when you, well, with you …. I take it you performed before you came to live at the opera house."
He finished weakly as he opened his eyes and raised his face to hers. Unshed tears made her eyes glisten and sparkle in the flickering candlelight.
"Yes, I was very young when I first sang on the stage. I believe I was but four years of age. I seem to remember singing, "Ave Maria" by Shubert. My Papa played his violin and I stood next to him. The one thing I remember about that performance was how surprised I was at the end of the song. The lime lights blinded me during the performance and prevented me from seeing the audience. When the song ended and the auditorium erupted with applause, it stunned me to see all of those people. At first, I was frightened, but then I felt intrigued by their reaction. Papa said that a person playing an instrument or singing a song holds complete power over their audience. The power to make them feel the way we want them to feel. Happiness … sadness … regret … love … hate … fear, Papa said that a truly talented vocalist could cause their audience to experience any emotion they wished. My Papa taught me to sing, but it has been many years since I trained with him. It has been many years since I could hear the music. When Papa died, I could no longer hear the music and I could no longer sing.
He took her hand in his and kissed it gently.
"You need not speak of it if it is too painful …."
She quietly silenced his words with a determined shake of her head.
"No, I am the opera ghost no longer. I am through with mourning my father's death and I have promises to keep. While I have not thought this through, I believe I have honored at least one of my oaths to my Angel of Music by marrying you, Erik."
Her face flushed and she stumbled over her words as she rushed to speak them.
"However, my promise is not the reason I married you, Erik. You do know that do you not? I married you because I love you!"
Their eyes met and she sighed as she realized he had no doubts over her feelings for him, so she continued.
"Words are a feeble tool and will never be able to truly express how happy I am that we are married. I do not think a day shall pass that I will not say a prayer of thanks."
She tilted her head until she caught both his eyes and was certain she had his full attention. She lifted her free hand to his face where it freely roamed in a loving caress. Both of their eyes drifted closed as they savored the swell of passion the gesture evoked. He dipped his lips to hers and they enjoyed the simple pleasure for a time before she drew back with a sad smile.
"Now, all that remains of my duty to my Angel is the fulfillment of my pledge to perform. I wish to celebrate my father's life. Music was his life, our life. Returning to the stage is the best way to share my Papa's legacy. Yet, I have not used my instrument in many years and I need to begin training my voice before I can think about auditioning. I will speak with Madame Giry on the morrow when we return to the opera house to collect my things. She may know of a vocal tutor in need of a student."
She paused and her eyes searched her husband's face. Her brow furrowed in consternation.
"Erik? What is it?"
He shook his head as he made to voice his denial of anything being wrong, but she silenced him with a loving finger pressed to his lips.
"No. Do not deny that something troubles you. I can see it in your eyes. Feel it in the tenseness of your body. Please? Mon amour, do not keep secrets from me. I keep nothing from you. Please honor me with the same forthrightness."
He gently pressed a kiss to her finger before removing it from his lips.
"Oh, Christine! It is my own insecurities, which haunt me. And, I must admit that the thought of you spending time with a vocal tutor caused me to feel jealous. I do understand the need, but my heart rails against the thought. You must simply allow me a little time to become accustomed to the idea. I do trust you, Christine. Never doubt that. I simply know that were I in the position of being your tutor, I would not be able to resist you."
He shrugged.
"Yes, well, my husband, you have forgotten one very important thing."
"What is that, chéri?"
"Erik, I love you! You are the one I want, the one I choose to be with for the rest of my life. And, if my tutor were to behave inappropriately, I would be the first to consider the use of a garrote."
She chuckled at Erik's look of astonishment at her macabre remark.
"I grew up in an opera house. Please! I believe I have witnessed just about every type of murder known to mankind. It causes one's sense of humor to become somewhat skewed from the norm."
She stifled a yawn.
"Can we speak more of this in the morning? I grow tired and I would like to …."
She blushed deeply, but that did not stop her hand as it reached out and she began to fondle her husband.
"I want you to take me before I grow too tired, my husband."
The man moaned and rocked his arousal into her fist.
"And, who am I to deny you anything, ma chère?"
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
He awoke suddenly, startled from a dreamless sleep. His eyes searching the darkness and his ears straining to hear the reason for the interruption of his slumber. He tightened his arm protectively around Christine's waist. Pulling her close to him, her naked body distracted him from his initial concern. He nuzzled his face into her neck and began to drift back to sleep when he heard the faint sound of a violin. His eyes opened wide and his entire body immediately tensed. He gently shook the still-sleeping form of his wife and whispered into her ear.
"Christine. Wake up."
She groaned in protest, but he refused to allow her to roll away from him.
"Christine. Ma chère. There is someone in the house. Someone that does not belong here. Wake up."
"Erik?"
Her voice sounded silky and sultry to his ears, but he could not allow himself to become distracted.
"Chéri, please put on a nightgown and robe. Come with me to the door and lock it behind me. I will be back after I discover the cause of this disturbance. Do not open the door for anyone but me. Do you understand?"
As soon as he felt her nod her head, he released his hold on her so she could get into her nightdress. Sliding from the bed, he pulled on his night pants and then walking to his closet, opened the door. He stepped inside and reached up onto the top shelf. His hand found the hilt of his sword and he carefully slid it from its scabbard. He noticed that the plaintively sweet, yet sad song of the violin sounded much closer than when he first awoke. He hurried. Returning to Christine's side, he placed his arm around her waist and drew her to the door with him.
"Do not forget to lock the door and do not open it for anyone but me."
"I will do as you ask, but please be careful! I do not need you to be heroic and dead, Erik. I need you to be alive and with me. Do you understand?"
He smiled in reply and opened the door.
Christine was the first to gasp as she had been facing the door while Erik had turned to give her a reassuring smile. Seeing his wife's face pale and her hand fly to her mouth in shock, Erik turned. The sight that met his eyes made him feel as if he was still asleep, never really awakening in the first place. The song ended and the sound of the violin paused before beginning again. The song, this time was unmistakable. The song was "Ave Maria." Music filled the air, filling Erik with an indescribable and intoxicating joy.
"Papa?" Christine whispered almost reverently. "Papa? Is that you?"
Erik found he had to hold tightly to Christine's hand as she almost began to run towards the source of the music. Her excitement grew as soon as she realized where she and her husband were. She tugged at his hand. He resisted her insistent hand. For a moment when their eyes met, something he saw troubled him deeply. The look in her eyes, a wild brightness, it reminded him of the way she would look at him the moment her body fell over the precipice into ecstasy. He felt a wave of anger wash over him. A rage against the music he had just thought so enticing. Erik growled and dug in his heels. The music pounded against his head and he swayed under its assault.
"Come, Erik! Do not be afraid for the Angel of Music has us under his wings!"
The music filled the air around him. Finally, it found a chink in his mental armor and began to flow through him. The more he resisted its pull, the more unrelenting was its siren's call. It filled his head to the point of where he thought his skull might burst.
"Do not fight it, mon amour! Come with me! I need to introduce you to my angel!"
Like an impatient child, she began to tug at his hand as she attempted to pull him away from the shore of the lake and towards the strange house, which apparently lay in an underground cavern. Erik turned and tried to pull Christine back into their bedroom only to discover the door was no longer there. Behind them, a large, dark lake with a small gondola beached nearby. Erik stumbled as Christine yanked on his hand. She drew him towards the source of the overpowering, yet heavenly music.
Straightening, Erik squared his shoulders, fought the pain in his head that threatened to overwhelm him and allowed Christine to lead him to the house by the lake.
Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone for their kind words and reviews of the last chapter. I apologize for not responding personally and beg for your understanding, but having to write about Adrianna is difficult. She would have been 29 years old on April 24.
My thanks to: laal ratty, Lady Winifred, Mominator, TheDragonEye, Quiet2885, Skoteinos Metamfiezmai, JackieLu, mrsphan, poetzproblem and Timeflies for your wonderful reviews! --ny