The Perfect Solution
Author does not hold the rights to the original characters from "The Phantom of the Opera," written by Gaston Leroux.
Epilogue: While the West is Paling
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Epilogue: While the West is Paling - "A Phantom of the Opera" FanFiction. What if Erik didn't run away from home, but stayed with his mother because she had a change of heart and was able to love him. He did not become the Devil's Child or a murderer, nor did he take refuge below the Paris Opera House. This story offers a look at what might have happened to Erik if he grew up knowing his mother's love. And, what might happen to Christine Daae if she grew up without her "Angel of Music" to comfort and guide her?
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Magic Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction Historical Paranormal First
While the west is paling,
Starshine is begun.
While the dusk is failing
Glimmers up the sun.
So, till darkness cover
Life's retreating gleam,
Lover follows lover,
Dream succeeds to dream.
Stoop to my endeavor,
O my love, and be
Only and for ever
Sun and stars to me.
"While the West is Paling" By William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)
Paris — Late Autumn, 1934
The man and woman sat on the park bench, their postures straight and proud. Although they were quite obviously elderly, they held hands much like newlyweds. They gazed at the statues on 'their' fountain, thinking back to the day a very nervous Erik proposed and a possessed Christine accepted.
"I am very worried, mon amour. There are rumors of another war brewing in Germany. A war to end all wars! Bah! As long as there are men whose only wish is to dominate others, there will be wars."
The old woman sadly shook her head.
"I can only be thankful that you never had to participate in those bits of foolishness. I only wish..."
The man placed his hand over hers and squeezed gently.
"I know, ma chère, I know, but Henri thought he was doing the right thing when he enlisted. We have been over this many times. God simply wished to call him home. As much as we needed him with us, God needed him more."
"Somehow it still seems so unfair. I bore him within my womb for nine months, went through the pain of his birth, we raised him through the scraped knees and bloody noses, only for him to die just as he becomes a man. It is wrong. He should be here with us, he should have a wife and we should have grandchildren, but since God had to call him home when he was 19, we will never have those things with him. Nor, will we ever have him again. I am sorry, Erik."
The man turned and looked at her confused.
"What? Why are you sorry?"
A tear slid down her cheek.
"I am sorry I did not give you another son. It always seemed like there would be plenty of time and what with the girls always underfoot and Henri toddling along after them, I never felt a lack, but I suppose the time for regrets ran out on that quite some time ago."
Erik turned to face his beloved and took both of her hands in his.
"Ma chère, hush! I, too, never felt a lack. I have no regrets. It was simply Henri's time. I treasure the time we had with him, I treasure the time I have had with all of you. I feel blessed for having lived this life. We never spoke of it, but when we first married, you knew I had horrible nightmares. Do you remember?"
"Oui, I remember, but they stopped after the girls' birth. Why do you bring this up now?"
The man released one of the hands he held captive, patted his wife's knee and smiled sweetly.
"Oh, I suppose I am just feeling my age. Is that not what old men do? Reminisce about the past and think of the way things might have been. I spent the first 30 years of my life believing that I would always be alone. I dreamt of a life that could have been, but thankfully, was not. I dreamt that I ran away from home before my mother and I reconciled and that gypsies trapped me and held me in a cage. I dreamt that they put me on display and called me, "The Devil's Child." I still remember the dreams quite plainly. My keeper beat me and treated me as if I were less than an animal."
Christine gasped and placed her hand over her heart.
"That sounds like a truly dreadful dream." She gasped.
The man's expression turned grim.
"It was horrible, but the strange thing is that it was not the worst part of the dream."
"How could it get any worse?" She spoke her question in a hesitant voice that almost seemed to beg him not to answer her.
"Oh ma chère, you must not take this the wrong way. After all, these dreams occurred forty and more years ago, but the truly horrific part of the dreams had you in them. And, the thing is that I knew of you through Raoul, but had no idea what you looked like. I know now that it was you in those dreams. I dreamt of you before we ever met. You saved me from the gypsies. One moment, I was a child and you led me away from them. The next, I was a grown man who loved you so much I felt I had lost my mind. Only, in my dreams, I wore a mask over the disfigured side of my face. You could not love me, you never chose me. You always left me. I was alone and broken-hearted while you left me, wrapped in the arms of another man."
