I rode all the way home after I left Erik. I was numb, and I wanted my own bed. Mignonette was waiting up for me. She sat with my head in her lap and listened to the whole story. She is a good little wife.

I thought so much about Erik; not much about him and Mother. I thought of him down there alone, imagined him puttering about his little kitchen as I'd seen him do. I wondered if it was any different for him now; did he ever think about me? About Chretien? Did he ever feel just one pang of longing, one bit of curiosity? Everything and nothing had changed for me. Home was still home, but I wasn't a Chagny. I had no name to replace it with, who else could I be? Father was still Father; Erik didn't want me. Funny I always felt like an outsider in my family. I felt grief for all I'd lost, or thought I'd lost, but it was only in my mind that anything had really changed. I believed that Mother wanted me to understand about my face when she sent me in search of Erik. I wondered if she'd wanted anything for Erik out of it. Could she have hoped that we'd be some comfort to each other? I think she knew him too well for that.

Maybe Aunt Giry was right that no good could come of it. In some ways, I had more questions than before.

I made some changes. I told Simone we were through. I can never repay Raoul; I can at least leave his wife alone. Besides, I still had Therese. Mignonette, Chretien and I attended the Opera; we took a regular box. Mignonette found a rose in her chair once, and at Christmas, Chretien was surprised with a cuddly monkey. We told him it was from the Opera Ghost, because he was a good little boy. Whenever we came to the Opera after that, Chretien hoped we'd get to see the Opera Ghost.

0-0-0-0

When I was over my initial depression, I went to see Raoul. I told him the Phantom was still alive, and that I'd met him with Aunt Giry's help. His eyes were worried.

"I just wanted to thank you," I said, "and apologize for being so much trouble."

Raoul shook his head, moved. "No trouble, son."

"Must've been quite a shock when you saw me…" I joked, trying to lighten things up.

"No. I knew what to expect."

"Oh." This was a surprise. "You married her anyway?"

Wrong thing to say. "What was I supposed to do, abandon her?" Raoul demanded, incensed.

"No, of course not. Sorry," I mumbled. Didn't I feel like an ass.

"Your Mother didn't lie to me. I had twenty wonderful years with her because I knew enough not to ask anything I didn't want to know the truth of. It's a good rule for a married man to know," he smiled.

I'll never be like Raoul. I told him so.

-0-0-0-0-

My brother came home for Christmas with a pregnant little wife he'd picked up in Aquitaine. He spoke the Languedoc with her; Vicomtesse de Chagny and she couldn't even speak proper French. No matter, I suppose; they were very adorable together. Philippe and I managed a rapprochement. Vivienne–his wife–wanted to 'practice', so she and Philippe kept Chretien when Mignonette and I returned to Paris and the fantastic bathtub for some New Year's nasty. The Comtesse de Chagny was indisposed through most of the holiday; same difficulty as Philippe's wife, only she was still skinny and puking. Thank God for Mignonette's whore's remedies; something was contagious. I convinced Lili over the holiday that it would be best if she let it go about me and Chretien attending her wedding. It really was alright with me.

-0-0-0-0-

Chretien had just turned four, and we were painting a train that I had carved. Well, if you were four it would look like a train. Mignonette answered the door, and Aunt Giry stood there and gave a silent nod. For a second I thought, By God, he's changed his mind–but no. She handed me a box containing the Sonnets, Mother's photograph, Mother's letter to Erik, a lovely diamond ring, and an envelope with Erik's seal affixed.

Dear Gaston,

I'm dead. I've instructed Madame to burn everything, but she feels you may wish to rummage through my junk before it's put to the torch. If such is the case, please feel free to do so. I return to you everything of your mother's in my possession, with the notable exception of my heart, which can be of no possible use to anyone.
From your listing of the contents of Christine's trunk, I recall a gold ring. You may have guessed it is mine. Given the difference in our ages, I assumed that I would precede your mother in death, and she agreed to return the ring to me in that event. Please honor that commitment and return it with Madame.
Thank you for your kindness. You have a lovely family. You seem to be a devoted father; sadly, it is a talent I never acquired. If your mother is correct, you and I will meet again; I believe she is mistaken.

E.

Cantankerous old bastard; he was right, he was no normal man. If I read between the lines, I can see that he tried, but he was just alone too long. I understand why Mother loved him; there was a lot to love in the tiny glimpses of himself that he permitted me, and she saw so much more than I did.

I fetched Erik's ring and accompanied Aunt Giry down to his home. He was there, already in a coffin. She told me that was where he always slept; my father was a ghoul. When I slipped the ring onto his cold finger, I realized he'd never let me touch him, never even shook my hand. I turned to Aunt Giry–never an especially warm woman, that I recall–and said, "Isn't this ridiculous, I feel like a goddamn orphan." She just held me and didn't try to make it alright. I appreciated that.

"Did he ever mention me?" I asked her when I'd recovered.

"He berated me for not telling him about you," she admitted. "He could be quite abusive if the mood seized him." She regarded me for a moment to see how I took that. "It took him some time to get accustomed to the idea of you–during that time, he did not say much at all. He turned garrulous when he told me about the monkey he was making for Chretien, and how pretty Mignonette looked. I think he was pleased that you have them. He wished that Christine could have seen her grandchild. And he admitted that Raoul had raised a good son."

She noticed a speck on his jacket and brushed it off automatically. It was the sort of gesture that a wife would make.

"You loved him too," I said suddenly. She looked at me wordlessly and I left it alone. "Would you like me to help you with all of this?" I offered.

"No…thank you. Is there anything you would like, Gaston?"

"I don't know, his music perhaps?"

She nodded. I left with a well-worn copy of Shakespeare and his sheet-music.

-0-0-0-0-

"Yes..."

I entered Raoul's study and he gave me a surprised smile. He headed to the bar to pour me a cognac and I dug out a cigar. I didn't know how to preface what I had to say, so I just held the ring out to him. "I think this may be yours, or Mother's."

His face confirmed my suspicions; then I saw in his eyes the understanding of what it meant that I could return it to him. "I'm sorry, Gaston. Were you able to be with him?"

"No." I retorted, sharper than I intended. "He would never have permitted that. Aunt Giry had a letter for me, after."

He nodded.

"I'm going to go, Father; I don't have anything else to say right now."

"Yes, alright, Gaston." I felt my father's comforting hand on my back as we walked to the door. "Gaston."

"Yes?"

Father was studying the ring. "I thought I'd give this to Lili." He looked to me for confirmation.

"She would like that," I agreed.

FIN