Epilogue
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all. - Emily Dickinson
Erik sat in the small, crowded café, his pen gliding across the paper in front of him. Frowning slightly, he reread what was already written on the paper, trying to decide whether or not the sentiments were too impersonal or not. In the end he supposed that it didn't really matter, all he needed to say was that he had arrived.
With a small flourish he signed his name at the bottom before folding the paper neatly and slipping it into his pocket. With a quiet sigh he finished his coffee and rose from his seat. Rome seemed to be all that he had remembered, though perhaps slightly less awe-inspiring than it had been in his younger days. Still, the city was marvellous in it's feats of architecture, and he found himself hopeful. Today he would mail the letter and return to the inn he was staying at, tomorrow he would set out in search of a job.
He stepped out of the café and into the warm spring air. Taking a deep breath he stroked the neck of the white mare before trailing his fingers across the face of the newer black one. Then, with a small smile, he stepped out and onto the street, the two horses following behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so hopeful when considering his future, and had to admit that it felt good to have a definite plan and a set direction.
Christine stepped out of the theatre and into the cool spring evening. With a small shiver she wrapped her arms around herself as Meg followed her out.
"Oh, it's freezing out here!" Meg gasped.
"Come on," Christine said, tugging at her friend's arm and leading her through the crowds and carriages, "Raoul said he would meet us out here."
It only took a minute to find the carriage with the De Chagny crest, but they were still more than happy to climb into its warmth. Raoul smiled at them both and quickly kissed Christine on the cheek as Meg closed the door.
"How was it?" he asked as the carriage jerked forward.
"Wonderful," Christine beamed, "Meg was amazing."
"I'm sorry that I had to miss it," he apologized, "I promise to attend the next performance."
"It's fine," Christine assured him, "I know that you're busy."
"Not to busy for supper," he assured her, "Mademoiselle Giry, would you care to join us?"
"That's fine," Meg said, with an exaggerated yawn, "it was a long night and I think I'd rather just return home and go to bed."
Raoul gave a small nod and moments later the carriage jolted to a stop in front of the apartment that Madame Giry was renting for them. Meg thanked him for his kindness and bid Christine good night before hoping out and hurrying into the house. The driver ensured that she was inside before flicking the reins to move the horses on.
"Where would you like to go?" Raoul asked quietly.
"I don't care," Christine said, stifling a yawn as she looked out the small window, "that place we went last time was lovely."
"We'll go there then," Raoul said, "unless you'd rather just go to the café. We don't' have to have a real supper."
"That would be nice, actually," she said, turning and smiling at him, "I am a bit tired, and the café is always quieter."
"I'll tell the driver then," he said, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss.
Christine smiled and turned her attention back out the window, noting that the stars were shining brightly. She smiled slightly at that and found herself wondering if Erik had made it to Rome safely, or if he had changed his mind on the way. Then, as Raoul spoke to the driver her mind drifted to thoughts of there wedding and a small smile graced her lips. The future didn't seem nearly as frightening as it had so many months ago, and she found herself looking forward to what was to come.
A/N: Well, this would have been up sooner, but my internet died on me...then me dad decided that he could fix it. So, it's a miracle I got it up this soon! Anyways, this is it, the story is now finished and I may start re-writing the sequel to it...I haven't decided yet. I will also (hopefully) have something new up soon. So, please leave me a review. Also, as a random fact, all Emily Dickinson poems can be sung to Yellow Rose of Texas...yeah, it's true.