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.
Gypsy Songs
The faery beam upon you,
The stars to glister on you;
A moon of light
In the noon of night,
Till the fire-drake hath o'ergone you!
The wheel of fortune guide you,
The boy with the bow beside you;
Run ay in the way
Till the bird of day,
And the luckier lot betide you!
To the old, long life and treasure!
To the young all health and pleasure!
To the fair, their face
With eternal grace
And the soul to be loved at leisure!
To the witty, all clear mirrors;
To the foolish, their dark errors;
To the loving sprite,
A secure delight;
To the jealous, his own false terrors!
Ben Jonson
Chapter Thirty-Nine – The Boy with the Bow beside You
"Papa, do you believe in Angels?"
The man stopped and turned to his daughter.
"Of course, child. Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Well, when I was lying in the grass, I thought I saw a beautiful young man peering down at me from the sky. He looked like you, but younger."
"Oh, Christine! You silly goose! You must have fallen asleep and dreamed it. You have no need of an angel, I am with you."
She smiled brightly.
"I know, Papa, but it seemed so real."
The pair continued walking to the village, hand in hand and was soon lost in the early evening fog, which crept in from the sea.
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The child skipped ahead of her father, dancing further and further from his side.
"Careful, Christine, do not wander! You may become lost in the fog."
The child spun to look back at her father and the impish smile froze on her mouth. Her eyes darted about and her lips fell into a pouting frown.
"Papa? Please, do not hide. I do not like this jest. Papa?"
She heard a faint call of her name, but she could not decide where to look. The fog deadened the sound, cloaking everything in strangeness.
"Christine?"
A young man's voice sounded near her ear causing her to trip and fall. She screamed as a swirl of black enveloped her and she lifted her hands to ward off an attack. Instead, she found herself gently righted.
"Are you all right, child? I did not mean to startle you. I am sorry."
The beautiful, yet familiar voice came from the center of the blackness.
"Who are you?" The frightened girl whimpered.
"That is of no importance." He paused and Christine felt eyes examining her. "What happened to your chin?"
The sudden question surprised the child and she answered without thinking.
"I tripped on a cobble and it opened up an old scar. The doctor had to sew it, but it is almost all the way better. I got six stitches and I did not cry. The doctor said that I am very brave."
A soft chuckle filled the air.
"You are indeed very brave, ma petite. This is the second time we have met and this is the second time you have hurt your chin. Perhaps, you need to take care when you are in the village of Perros-Guirec as it seems to have a dislike of your pretty little chin."
There was a sudden intake of breath from the girl as her words tumbled from her mouth.
"Second time? Are you the one? Are you the boy that helped me when I was little?"
Another chuckle.
"When you were little?" A pause. "Well, I suppose."
Her curiosity caused her normally impatient nature to overtake her self-control as she flung herself at the black shape. A sudden, hard whoosh of air left the form and it fell, coughing to the ground with the child landing on top.
"What on earth?"
The child giggled merrily and hugged the shape that soon proved to be that of a young man. The man struggled to sit up as the girl happily clung to him while she made herself comfortable on his lap. She snuggled closer and wrapped her little arms around him hugging him tightly.
"I never got to tell you, thank you. So … thank you!" She continued to giggle while holding him tightly. The young man, slightly unnerved by the unrestrained display of affection, gently attempted to extricate his body from the tight embrace.
"Uh, child? Please! I can barely draw a breath. Can you loosen your hold just a wee bit?" He laughed.
The girl's grip relaxed and she pulled back to look at her savior. Erik watched as her eyes traveled up his chest, along his neck to stop at his face. To the child's credit, she neither cried out nor removed her arms from around his waist, but Erik did notice that her eyes became wide with surprise. He sighed inwardly.
"Once again my face comes between me and a friend. And I so hoped she would be different …."
His silent musing interrupted by her voice.
"But, you are just a boy! I thought an angel saved me, but you are not an angel."
Erik watched her eyes grow serious. He unconsciously held his breath, awaiting her verdict.
Her smile returned to grace her face with its brilliance and she nodded to herself.
"I am pleased that you are not an angel. I do not think God would allow me to be friends with an angel and I definitely think we should be friends."
She leaned back and held out a small hand to Erik.
"Bonsoir, monsieur! Ma nom est Christine Daae. Quel est votre nom?"¹
Erik felt an amused smirk form across his lips as a thrill of happiness washed through his soul. Clearing his throat, he took her hand in his, placed a small kiss on the back of her hand and replied.
"Bonsoir, mademoiselle! Mon nom est Erik Destler. Je suis heureux de faire votre connaissance."²
The child blushed prettily and then cocked her head.
"Oh, listen! I do believe I hear my Papa calling me! You have saved me once again, Erik! Can you help me find my Papa, please?"
The young man nodded his head once.
"It would be my pleasure to assist you, ma petite, but I need you to remove yourself from my lap."
Her laughter rang out and she scrambled to her feet. Erik rose from the ground and dusted off his clothes. He threw his head back and listened.
"Here, take my hand Mademoiselle Christine. It would not do for your rescuer to lose you as well."
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"Papa! I was so worried about you. This weather is not good for your cough. We must get you inside now."
The small girl tugged on the older man's hand, while not releasing her hold on the younger man. She seemed to have regained her bearing and pulled them in the direction of the Daae house.
"I need to introduce you to the most amazing person, Papa. This is Erik Destler. I was lost in the fog, calling for you. He found me and we talked for a bit until we heard you calling for me. Then he helped me find you. This is the amazing part, Erik is the same boy that helped me when I fell down and cut my chin the first time."
The older man turned and smiled.
"Well, it seems that I owe you for saving my daughter twice. Christine? Child, you need not to make a habit of this. I am quite certain Monsieur Destler has other things to do than to save you. Ah, here we are. Please, Monsieur, come in and let us properly thank you by having you join us for supper and some music."
Erik arched his eyebrow inquiringly.
"Music?"
"Of course, Monsieur. I am a humble violinist and my daughter accompanies me with her voice. Are you a fancier of music?"
"Please, call me Erik. Well, I recently decided to train as an architect, but it was a difficult decision as I had been accepted at both the Paris Conservatoire and Politecnico di Milano."
"Oh? So, do you play an instrument?"
"Oui. I play the piano and the violin. Although, I can play most any instrument it seems. However, those are the two I prefer."
"Marvelous, Erik! And, please call me Gustave. Perhaps, you can play for us while I make supper. Christine, please wash your hands and then set the table."
"Yes, Papa."
The girl disappeared down the hall while Erik looked about the small living room. He nodded to the girl when she returned as she began to whirl happily about as she danced from the sideboard where the dishes were stored to the table. She hummed an aria as she set the table that Erik recognized, but was surprised to hear that such a young child knew it. He lifted his eyebrow to the older man.
"Verdi's Rigoletto? Is that Gilda's Aria No. 6?"
The older man smiled broadly.
"Good ear, Erik! Yes, you may not believe this, but Christine's voice can carry mature roles. Do you know how to play that aria?"
Erik nodded and Gustave stuck his head through the door from the kitchen. He gestured with his chin.
"My violin case is over there in the corner. Christine? Can you show him? Child, when you are finished, Monsieur Erik shall play Aria No. 6 and you shall sing it with him. Non?"
The girl smiled gaily.
"Of course, Papa. I shall sing for the boy with the bow in his hand."
Her laughter floated throughout the house and warmed the hearts of all those that heard it.
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"She is asleep at last, Monsieur. Now, it is time for you and me to speak plainly. It is time for you to remember the truth, Erik. It is time for you to remember that you never met Christine in the fog of Perros-Guirec. It is time to remember."
The man strode across the room and placed his hand on Erik's arm as he sat in the armchair by the fireplace. A brief flash of light suffused the two men and then the young man changed. His body aged 13 years in a matter of moments and the older man grew younger. Erik briefly stared at the hand on his arm and then closed his eyes. The younger man spoke.
"Erik? Do you know why you are here?"
"No, but I remember that Christine is my wife and that she is ill. How is it that we are here? Actually, where is here?"
The Angel of Music removed his hand from Erik's arm and sat on the small settee. He waved his hand about the room.
"This is the house where Christine and I lived during the last year of my life. It is the last place that my daughter felt safe and loved, but it is also the first place she met Lilith. While I do appreciate Antoinette's offer of assistance, she is not the one that needs to save Christine. Having Christine remember the acts of the Opera Ghost will not help her. She first needs to remember Lilith. Once she remembers Lilith that will unlock the closed parts of her memory."
"Well, how do we help her remember Lilith?" Erik interrupted.
The Angel frowned and turned away.
"Come, now. What must we do to help Christine? You must tell me."
He watched as the Angel of Music aged and became a man once more. Erik felt his body change and he realized he was once again 17 years old.
"In order for Christine to remember, I must die again."
¹ Translation: "Good evening, sir! My name is Christine Daae. What is your name?"
² Translation: "Good evening, miss! My name is Erik Destler. I am happy to make your acquaintance."
Author's Note: Hope everyone is having a wonderful summer vacation! Please take the time to feed the kitty – read and review!
Fondest wishes,
--ny