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.
The Hag
The hag is astride
This night for to ride,
The devil and she together;
Through thick and through thin,
Now out and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.
A thorn or a burr
She takes for a spur,
With a lash of a bramble she rides now;
Through brakes and through briars,
O'er ditches and mires,
She follows the spirit that guides now.
No beast for his food
Dare now range the wood,
But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking;
While mischiefs, by these,
On land and on seas,
At noon of night are a-working.
The storm will arise
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.
Robert Herrick
Chapter Thirty-Five – The Ghost from the Tomb
A light laughter filled the room with its bell-like tones. Christine felt a cold shiver of fear trace up her spine.
"Do I know you?"
The laughter repeated, but this time the lightness was gone and replaced with a glowering snicker.
"Oh, you most definitely could say that you know me. Although, I know you have tried to bury me away many a time, I am free at last! Nice place you have here. I think I shall feel most at home here. Now, I am warning you, you had best keep quiet about my visit or …."
All color and emotion had drained from Christine's face as she finally recognized the owner of the voice.
"Or, I had best keep my hand at the level of my eyes."
The voice seemed to fill the air about Christine's head, yet she knew the source of the voice stood before her. With a sense of bravery she never before experienced when dealing with this intruder, she continued.
"It would be best if you left before my husband returns."
A husky chuckle sounded before she heard the reply.
"And, what makes you think he will return to you? Think, Madame. Do you honestly believe he will return after you dealt him so deep a wound?"
Christine shook her head.
"I … I did nothing of the sort. I only kept my promise to him. I did not lie to him. I told him the truth."
A rather inelegant snort was the reply.
"The truth? And, just what is this truth of which you speak so passionately? Is it really the truth? Or, is it your truth? Is it his? There are three sides to every tale, Madame. Yours, his and the actual truth, which truth did you tell him?" The voice taunted.
"But, the angel told me …."
A howl of laughter silenced the woman's words as it surrounded her. She covered her ears, but even that action did nothing to lessen the noise.
"Madame, surely by now you must know that I cannot be made quiet that easily."
Christine dropped her hands to the bed, where they lay limply next to her thighs. Slowly, her hands clenched into fists of impotent rage.
"What is it that you want?"
Her clipped words escaped her mouth in staccato beats from jaws as tight as her fists. A long pause ensued as Christine watched in horror as the being slowly walked towards her. She sat frozen on the edge of the bed she shared with her husband and watched as her nightmare approached her. The shadow stepped into the light.
"Mon Dieu! No!"
Christine screamed and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her stiff body relaxed and slipped from the bed unconscious onto the floor.
"Oh no, my sweet. God shall not be of any assistance to you this night. You made me. You cannot rid yourself of me simply by willing it to be so. I protected you all those years at the opera house and now, you think you can reject me? If it were not so pathetic, it would be amusing. Oh no, now, it is my turn. I want to live."
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Erik's head shot up from the keyboard.
"Christine!"
Her scream echoed throughout his house. In his haste to rise to his feet, the piano bench flew back and crashed to the floor unnoticed.
"She needs me! Merde! Why did I ever leave her? If I had stayed with her she would not be in danger now."
How he was certain of her peril, he did not know. He just knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Racing from the room, he took the stairs two at a time, flew down the hall and into his bedroom. He found Christine alone in their room, unconscious on the floor next to their bed. He raced to her side and scooped her up into his strong arms. Looking down onto the face of his beloved wife, he gasped in horror.
"Mon Dieu!"
Her eyes were open, but unseeing, revealing only the whites of her eyes. Gently and carefully, he lay her limp body down on the bed. He brushed her curls from her face and ran to fetch a cloth from the bathroom, which he wetted. Dabbing the cool cloth to her forehead, his eyes ran along her form looking for evidence of any injuries. Finding none, he laid the cloth on her forehead then taking hold of her shoulders, he tenderly shook her.
"Christine? Ma chéri? Christine? Please wake!"
He lifted her hands into his and lovingly placed kisses on the inside of her wrists. Her pulse beat strong beneath his lips. He raised his eyes to look upon her face. Releasing one of her hands, he raised his free hand to caress her cheek.
She blinked, sighed, closed her eyes and turned her head to the side effectively pinning Erik's hand between her cheek and the pillow. The man stared at her, worry furrowing his one perfect brow.
"Whatever is wrong, I will not abandon you. I refuse to allow my fears to drive me away from you. Christine, tu êtes la lumière précieuse de ma vie. Je ne permettrai pas à l'obscurité de tu emmener."¹
He whispered. Placing his free hand on her shoulder, he lifted the limp body to him and cradled her to his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.
"Very well, time to do something as it seems this is not helping her. Time to ask for help."
Carefully, laying Christine back down on their bed, Erik examined her for a moment. Images of her in the throes of passion ran through his mind and he had to shake his head to clear them away.
"That is most definitely not going to help matters. Think, Destler!"
He distractedly ran his hand through his hair and his eyes happened upon the empty valises sitting near their wardrobe. A thought began to form and slowly took shape in his mind. He nodded.
"Of course!"
He gave the still form one more glance then turned and strode quickly from the room. He ran to the servants' wing and rapped firmly on the only set of double doors. He waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. He raised his hand to knock again, when the door opened a few inches.
"Elaine! I need you to wake Martin and send him to the opera house with the carriage. I need him to fetch Madame Giry and bring her here immediately. Have him tell her that Christine needs her tonight. It cannot wait until morning. Then I need you to come upstairs and bring a bottle of whiskey and the sal volatile ² with you. Hurry, no questions, now! I will await you in the bedroom."
"Oui, Monsieur."
She nodded her head and closed the door. Erik turned to return upstairs. Before he could take two steps, he heard Elaine rush from her room and run down the hall to fetch Martin. He smiled grimly and ran back to join Christine in their room.
He silently entered the room and strode to the bed. His wife lay there, but she was no longer still. She tossed and turned as if she were struggling with someone. Her lovely face a grimacing mask and tears flowing freely from her eyes. Erik's heart blanched at the sight. He quickly moved to sit next to her and gathered her into his arms. He whispered words of love into her ear and rubbed her back, until it seemed to soothe her.
"Christine?"
He called to her, but she still made no conscious reply. She groaned sharply and then hissed before becoming silent once more. The man held her gently in his arms, feeling powerless to battle the unknown demons his wife faced in her dreams.
"Ma chéri, please wake! I cannot help you if I do not know what is wrong. Christine?"
The man turned as he felt another presence in the room. He let out a sigh of relief.
"Elaine! Please, come here. I found her on the floor unconscious. I need the salts, please!"
He held out his hand to her and watched as she carefully worked the stopper from the mouth of the bottle. She placed the open small clear-blue glass bottle in his hand. He looked at her questioningly.
"Just wave it beneath her nose long enough for her to take one or two breaths, but Monsieur, perhaps you would wish to wait for Madame Giry to arrive."
His shoulders sagged. He nodded and handed the bottle back to Elaine.
"Did you bring the whiskey?" He growled.
"Monsieur …. Erik …."
His head snapped around and his startled eyes met hers.
"That is the first time you ever called me by my Christian name. Do not concern yourself, Elaine. I simply wish for a small taste to settle my nerves. No more, no less."
Her head tilted and she studied him intently for a moment then offered him a larger bottle. He started.
"How do you do that?"
She frowned.
"What?"
"You are just like her. Well, almost." He nodded his head towards Christine. "She can make things disappear. You make them appear. Is this some womanly magic?"
"No, Erik. At least mine is not. It is simply a case of deep pockets." She smiled at him softly.
He snorted and gave a wry laugh.
"And, all this time I thought my housekeeper a master magician."
His hand left Christine to accept the bottle, but froze as his wife moaned and began to thrash wildly. Shaking his head at Elaine, he turned his attention back to Christine. Holding her firmly against his chest and rocking her. He hummed a gentle melody with his eyes closed as he smoothed her hair and rubbed her back.
Elaine realized he had forgotten all about her, so she took a seat by the bedroom door to await the arrival of Madame Giry.
"What on earth is going on here?"
The prim woman wondered, worried over her employer and his bride. She rested her eyes while waiting for the woman she hoped could tell her what in the world was happening to the lady of the house. She had almost fallen asleep when Christine's panicked voice snapped her eyes open.
♥ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♥
Erik had almost fallen asleep while sitting propped against Christine. He came awake instantly as he felt her body stiffen in his arms and he prepared himself for her flailing and thrashing arms. The sound of her angry voice stunned him.
"No! You cannot have him! He is mine!"
He held her away from him to see if she were awake or having another nightmare. Her eyes were open and fixed on something behind him. He turned his head and for a fleeting moment, he saw Christine dressed entirely in black standing there with eyes that glowed bright, burning amber. He blinked once and she was gone. His attention drawn back to the weeping woman he held in his arms.
"I thought she was gone! I thought my sins forgiven. I shall never rid myself of her now. She shall haunt me to my dying day!"
And, then Erik felt his blood run cold as his wife threw her head back and laughed. The sound, which issued from her mouth the cackle of an ancient crone. He watched in horrified fascination as her eyes rolled up to show only the whites, but the laughter still poured from her mouth.
A laughter, which sounded as if it came directly from the depths of hell.
¹ Translation – "Christine, you are the precious light of my life. I shall not allow darkness to take you."
² Sal volatile – smelling salts, which is a misnomer as "smelling salts" are, in fact, a liquid. The name comes from the base ingredient, which is ammonium carbonate, a salt with a white crystalline structure. Mix ammonium carbonate with water, in the case of "aromatic spirits of ammonia," or perfume, the reaction creates fumes, which rise from the salts. When placed under someone's nose, the fumes irritate the mucus membranes of the nose, throat and lungs, stimulating the body to breathe more quickly. Thereby causing a person in a faint to revive. Smelling salts can also alleviate a headache, but exposure to ammonia fumes is dangerous as they accumulate in the system and can cause permanent damage. My mentioning them in this chapter is not a recommendation in favor of their use, but as they were in common use at the end of the 19th Century, I incorporate their use as a typical treatment of the period.
Author's Note: I promised you a longer chapter and I hope this fulfills my promise. I also believe it supplied everyone with a bit of a shock. After all, Christine believed her sins forgiven and had said as much to the Angel of Music. However, one can only find forgiveness when one accepts responsibility for their sins and then truly repents. Christine divorced herself from her sins by making all of her wrongdoings the fault of the Opera Ghost. She is now reaping what she has sown. Don't worry, though, Erik's personality may be much tamer in this story, but when it comes to Christine, he's still just as obsessively in love with her as he is when he's the Phantom. He still has more than a bit of a temper, too! As we shall soon see.
All of your reviews have been so great! I thank you for your continued support and send out cyber-doughnuts and brownies to all of you! Also, a great, big thank you to Auntie Lisa for asking Trystin to spend the night. I never would have been able to get this chapter out this quickly if it weren't for her! --ny