Disclaimer: If you still question the fact that The Phantom of the Opera and everything associated with it doesn't belong to me, I really pity you.
A/N: Okay, I know I said I was finished, but Dark-hearted rose mentioned that I should do an epilogue for this, and the idea kept picking at me until I had to write it. It gives a brief description of what happened to everybody, and then a little mini-story about what happened to our dear friend Raoul. A word to the wise: there's a lot of Raoul-bashing, but it's all in good fun.
Well, anyway, enjoy this little smidgeon (what an awesome word) of an epilogue :)
By the way, the end will make more sense if you've seen Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.
In the end, everyone really did end up going to therapy, with everything playing out pretty much as it had happened in Dr. Wolfe's dream.
Erik and Christine eloped to umm…let's see, I can't say Paris, because they live there…how about Reykjavik? Iceland's always overlooked when it comes to these sorts of things. I bet it's actually very romantic there. Yes, we'll go with Reykjavik.
Anyway, Erik and Christine lived happily every after, with no more mask mishaps, because apparently Icelandic people are much more accepting of that sort of thing...not that I would know.
There they lived happily ever after, and had three beautiful children named—well, I'm too lazy to think of names. Use your imagination.
Madame Giry got a job at the newly renovated Paris Opera House, where she trained the next generation of ballet rat. Unless my sources are mistaken, she went on to develop the foxtrot, the electric slide, and the Macarena. Of course, there's a good chance that my sources are mistaken.
Gladys never fully recovered from her tragic experience of ripping off Erik's mask and then passing out from smoke exposure, because, as everyone knows, that can ruin you for life. She now lives in the wilderness of Canada, where she valiantly fights off the evil forces of squirrels and Mounties.
Doctor Wolfe decided to give up her career as a shrink when she won the lottery (and due to what she dubbed as the "Erik Incident"). She used her newfound money to retire, and bought a large estate in Jamaica. Of course, her troubles were far from over. Soon after arriving, she was enlisted by a navy man in a funny wig, who had heard of her experience as a therapist; he wished her to help some acquaintances of his, who he claimed were, "too piratical for their own good."
As far as Nadir was concerned, he fled the country soon after the aforementioned "Erik Incident," as he had three very angry people pursuing him. He eventually relocated to Geneva.
Joseph Buquet's corpse went back to being dead, which was apparently much more enjoyable now that he had discovered the wonders of People magazine.
And as to the last member of the group, well, Raoul still had one last adventure left. If you will remember, Erik had sent our dear Viscount tumbling to his apparent doom through a trapdoor in the floor, which authorities are still questioning the origins of. The trapdoor, not the floor. Contrary to popular belief, Raoul did not die, disappear, get sucked into an alternate dimension/eaten by aliens, etc.
He instead landed on the bottom of the trapdoor, which was about ten feet in depth. His fall was cushioned by all of the various sharp objects Erik had positioned around the floor. Thankfully, he landed on his back.
When he regained his footing, Raoul had to pull a variety of things out of his back and buttocks, including twenty-three thumbtacks, two and a half soda cans, fifty-six roses, and a pair of glass slippers.
Somewhere in the world of fairy tales, Cinderella cried.
Glancing around his prison, Raoul spied a door leading—hopefully—to the outside. Being who he was, Raoul impulsively rushed to the door, opened it, and strode into the corridor beyond. It was longer than he had expected. In fact, he couldn't even see an end to it. It had to lead somewhere, though. And so, picking up a conveniently placed torch, that was conveniently lit, he began to walk down the long passage.
Months passed, and still he found no sign of the exit. He survived by eating the rats he found--okay, I'm kidding. There were actually provisions located throughout the tunnel; apparently Erik was nicer than everyone believed.
After about a year of being trapped in the tunnel, Raoul came across an opening leading to the outside world. He was overjoyed. Slowly he stepped out into the light, shielding his eyes from the over bright sun.
The scene before him was somewhat astounding. Before him lay a variety of green, tropical plants; through them, he could see the white sand of a beach, and the shimmering turquoise water of the tropics.
Walking forward a few steps, he suddenly found himself surrounded by a group of savages, all of whom were pointing weapons at him. They stared at him, and one of them gabbled in some odd language.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Raoul looked at them.
One of them, who was apparently the leader, turned to his men and spoke again. They answered in a cheer, and Raoul soon found himself unconscious, a dart protruding from his neck. Raoul in tow, the savages made their way back home.
And then they made him their chief.
And that is that.
Gentlemen, I was my hands of this weirdness.
I can honestly say that I am done with this story. I loved writing it, and it was the first fan fiction that I ever wrote. Hopefully, I've improved since November. I apologize for the Pirates references, but I am completely obsessed with the movies (well, more than usual), so they were bound to show up sometime.
Erik considers himself above begging, so he commands you to review.