To Be Loved
Epilogue

By HDKingsbury & MadLizzy

May 1, 2011

Author's Note: Here it is - what you've either been looking forward to...or dreading. The end of the story. Lizzy and I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who have been following Erik's journey with us. A special thank you to all of you who took a few minutes to let us know what you thought along the way. I am hoping to eventually make this, and our other story - Treasures of Egypt - available for purchase on Lulu, perhaps (if life is kind and gives us time for edits and revisions) in time for Christmas. I will post updates on this and other Phantom related projects on my profile, so stop by from time to time, drop us a line via the ol' PM...but most of all...ENJOY! ~HDKingsbury

"Sweet is the recollection of difficulties overcome." ~Proverb

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1923

Erik closed the book he was reading and grazed his hands across the embossed leather cover. It was one of his favorite collections of poems by the Persian poet, Omar Khayyam. He slipped it back into the empty space on the bookshelf, and quoted aloud:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Twenty years had passed since that terrible night on the Pont de Pierre. Aurelia had indeed become a sensation not only in Paris, but across all of Europe's most famous opera houses. Theatrical life appealed to her, and she spent several years traveling the world, touring the United States and Australia as well as parts of South America and Egypt.

While she was basking in the limelight, Vincent applied himself diligently to his studies, and earned a degree in engineering from the Université de Paris or La Sorbonne, the same university that his friend Marc attended, while continuing to make a name for himself as a racecar driver and innovator. After years of pleasurable pursuit, he finally convinced Aurelia to become his wife, and they were wed at La Madeleine on her twenty-fourth birthday, March 5, in the Year of Our Lord 1908. Erik walked his daughter down the aisle but upon arriving at the altar, he kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear, "I am not giving you away; I'm merely letting you explore this fling of yours."

The marriage was the talk of the season, and both families had been pleased with the union. The moment Erik sat down in the front pew, the familiar fragrance of irises had surrounded him and he was certain that Christine was making her presence known to him. After the traditional supper that followed the nuptials, Erik had waltzed with his daughter and with Clementine (as was the custom) and had danced with the three de Chagny girls. He had even danced with Mme Giry, but he had drawn the line at any further public display of himself and had said his goodbyes the moment Aurelia and Vincent departed for their honeymoon.

His new hobby of motorcycling provided many thrills, but none of them compared to the feeling he got from seeing Aurelia succeed in her career and her marriage. And it had proved to be a fruitful marriage. Their first child, a son, was born shortly before the couple's third anniversary. Little Erik-Raoul Delacorte de Chagny was bold and adventurous, combining the best attributes of both his familial lines. He had Erik's cunning and Raoul's winsomeness; in short, it was impossible to say no to him. Fortunately, his innate even temperament kept him from becoming a tyrant in spite of his unstoppable nature. A second child, a girl, was born a little more than a year later. As the years passed, Aurelia's family became accustomed to spending summers on the Delacorte farm in Sweden with Erik, and their winters in their home in Paris near Clementine and Raoul.

Only a worldwide war could intrude upon their happiness. When the sabers began to rattle, the excitement in France was palpable. This was to be the grandest venture since Napoleon's conquests, a valiant conflict, and expectations were high that revenge would be exacted upon the Germans for their transgressions of 1870. Within a few weeks, however, excitement on the fields of honor gave way to desolation on the moonscape that was trench warfare. Gone were the days of glorious charges with bayonets gleaming in the sun. Instead, modern warfare was anything but glorious, and exacted a heavy toll, and morale evaporated after the bloodbaths of Verdun and the Somme.

Raoul was recalled to La Royale, the French navy, where he was promoted to the rank of Admiral and assumed command of the pre-dreadnought Charlemagne in the Dardanelles Campaign; but first, he evacuated his family to Clementine's ancestral home in the English countryside, which had been converted to a hospital for convalescing soldiers. Under his command, the Charlemagne led the bombardment of Ottoman fortifications and ports in order to keep supply lines open for the troops, and was one of the few ships in the entire fleet to remain undamaged throughout the war, in spite of heavy mining of the seaways by German submarines.

As with Raoul, the top priority in Erik's mind was his family's safety. He insisted that Aurelia, his grandchildren, and his dear friend Édouard retreat to Gamla Uppsala, where Sweden's neutrality helped ensure their well-being. This was especially important since Aurelia was already expecting her third child.

With the knowledge that his family was secure, Erik volunteered his services to the French military intelligence, and was once again thrust into the world of espionage. Now approaching his sixth decade, nobody cared that he had once haunted an opera house, and were only interested in what he had to offer in defense of his country. The erstwhile Fantôme saw little of the front lines but instead spent long hours behind the scenes laboring over snippets of ill-gotten information, and assembled a cadre of elite encryption specialists and ciphers. Under his guidance, the French soon took the lead in military intelligence, especially in the Dardanelles and the Balkans. After the United States entered the war, though, he was assigned to helping France's newest allies improve American codes, since each one had been broken by the Germans. It was Erik's idea to bring in a group of Native Americans to speak in their own tongue, which had a convoluted syntax that was incomprehensible to the logical and precise German army. Hence, he was largely responsible for the soldiers known as the Choctaw Code Talkers, whose messages were considered unbreakable.

Vincent, with his incomparable knowledge of French roads and bridges, volunteered for the infantry, but due to his education and background (both familial and his brief stint with the navy), he was quickly promoted to the rank of Captain. With his own history with motorized vehicles, he foresaw that this war would be the last in which horses played a major role, as the days of the noble warhorse gave way to the advent of machines. His skills were put to the test when he had to maintain supply routes, ensuring that those lifelines remained open so that ammunition, food, and medicine got where it was needed. And it was Vincent de Chagny who was largely responsible for the Miracle of the Marne, in which 600 Parisian taxis ferried 6,000 reserve soldiers to the front, thereby saving Paris from a German assault.

By the fall of 1915, though, French morale was so low that soldiers had begun to desert by the tens of thousands, and officers were ordered to bind deserters with ropes and force them to march into No Man's Land – that land between the opposing army's trenches – where the helpless sods were picked off by German snipers. By 1916, drunkenness was rampant in the trenches, and men openly cursed their commanders and sang insulting ditties about war profiteers and wooden graveyard crosses. By 1917, the men simply refused to fight. Once again, Vincent sprang into action, rallying them with promises of basic necessities such as latrines, leave, beds, and supply canteens. He also vowed that there would be no more futile offensive maneuvers such as the murderous one led by General Robert Nivelle, which cost nearly 100,000 Frenchmen their lives.

Only days after his moment of triumph in rallying the troops, Vincent began to show the first symptoms of having caught the influenza that had begun making its deadly way around the world. Thanks to his father's influence, he was evacuated to England, and soon found himself in the loving care of his own mother. He was one of the lucky survivors, and owing to the care he received and his own natural stamina, he was able to look forward to a long and happy life with his young wife and children.

Others did not fare so well. Most of the early victims recovered from the infection after a few days of incapacitating aches and pains. As they appeared to be fairly healthy, many were sent back to duty, which only helped the disease spread. As time passed with more and more soldiers being exposed to it, the virus grew deadlier. All too rapidly, the symptoms advanced, first with air hunger, then cyanosis, finally resulting in a slow and agonizing death from suffocation. Within a year, nearly everyone who caught it succumbed, including Jabes. Moved by the plight of the man's young widow and fatherless children, Erik arranged for them to be evacuated to Sweden for the duration of the war, where they joined Aurelia and her children on the little farm.

Édouard Bruguière was another who joined them on the growing compound that had once been scarcely large enough for Erik and Christine. At first, the attorney had been quite content with his retirement in Sweden. Far beyond the reach of the Spanish influenza pandemic in their sleepy Swedish village, he was happy to lead the life of a country squire. After a few months in the idyllic setting, Édouard soon found himself bored with country life and itching for something to do besides milk the goats and help watch after the children. He took to wandering the countryside, and while hiking through the fields one day, he suffered a fatal heart attack and died in the meadow overlooking the graveyard where Christine was buried beside the old cathedral. His last thoughts might have been of the empty grave that had been reserved for him near her side.

After the war, Erik retired to his farm in Gamla Uppsala. The Nystroms had long departed, but Thor and his wife, Kerin, looked after the farm while raising a family of their own. Erik was surprised to realize one day that he was never lonely. His winters were spent in his apartment in Paris, while Aurelia and her family spent much of the summer with him on the farm. After thirty years as a bestselling author, he laid down his pen and instead devoted himself to his music, to painting, and to tending the graves of his best friend and his wife. Yes, he grew old, but he never grew lonely. And not only did Aurelia and Vincent and the grandchildren keep him company, but Raoul and Clementine took him in as well whenever he came to Paris. In time, he became "Uncle Erik" to Vincent's sisters, who adored him…as did their children.

Eventually, Gigi and Marc married, and they were particularly fond of "Uncle Erik," who let Marc ride his motorcycles whenever Gigi wasn't looking. Camille had taken after Aurelia, and entered the conservatoire where she studied voice and piano. She had no plans to perform on stage, but rather thought of her education as a sort of finishing school that immersed her into the world of the working class. Levelheaded yet polished, she knew what she wanted out life and was hard working and earnest. Zoé, on the other hand, was a bit of a flibbertigibbet. She studied art, also at La Sorbonne, and was determined to become a famous (or was that infamous?) painter in the style known as Dada, which had sprung forth in Switzerland before the outbreak of the Great War.

All together, Aurelia and Vincent had three boys and two girls. At first, Erik didn't know what to do with the male offspring, because young Christine and Clementine-Katrine (Kitty, as she was called) had stolen his heart, but soon found himself riding herd on all five grandchildren who were every bit as bold and daring as Aurelia had been…but without any inhibitions whatsoever – or, seemingly, any sense of self-preservation. They were a rough and tumble lot who scaled the highest trees and jumped into the depths of the secret pond without any regard for their physical safety, and in doing so, shaved more than a few years off Erik's life, of that he was sure. Their escapades endeared them to him all the more, however.

He was partial to the one called Édouard, after his dear goat-loving friend. The boy was bright, but not athletic, and enjoyed having Erik teach him magic tricks that he then used to entertain the others after supper. Little Erik-Raoul took after himself in the brains department, but was the spitting image of his paternal grandfather. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least. The youngest, Philippe-Vincent, was a lovable imp who was full of vim and vigor and could charm his way out of almost any trouble he fell into; but when he couldn't , he accepted his punishment like a gentleman—and refined his technique so that he wouldn't get caught the next time.

One day when he was approaching his eightieth year, Erik was able to look back upon a full…and fulfilling life. He had once told Christine that the memory of their brief time together would last him a lifetime, and so it had. Sitting on the bench overlooking her grave where he often came to meditate or simply to enjoy the view of the surrounding countryside, he knew without a doubt that he had enjoyed the greatest exception of all: To Be Loved for Oneself. His heart ached with the gladness of it.

He sat back and listened to the laughter of the village children playing far in the distance, and smiled. He had successfully raised a brilliant daughter, and was now the proud patriarch of a family that held him dear. Aurelia and Vincent were approaching their middle years; as he had aged, so had they. Several of his grandchildren were old enough to start considering their own careers, and had even begun talking about which university they wanted to attend. He had done everything he had ever wanted. He had become respectable. He had been loved for himself. And, what is more, he had learned to accept himself as he was, warts and all.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, and wafting on the wind was the fragrance of irises. "Christine," he murmured. "Is it time? I have waited so long…."

She appeared before him, young and beautiful, shining like an angel. A golden aura surrounded her. "Yes, my love. It is time. We can be together again, at last." She held out her hand to him. "Come, Erik. I have so much to show you."

He stood up, and looked down at his hands. No longer did they bear the splotches and stains of old age, the wrinkles of time. He put a hand to his face…his terrible face...and felt smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He was young again! As young as he had been when he and Christine were first married! He lifted a hand to adjust his mask, as was his habit, but discovered that his face was bare. He turned away in shame, and covered his face as he did so. Instead of the rough map of scars and deformities, the uneven surface of his bald head, he was astonished to find smooth, unblemished skin. A full head of auburn-colored hair parted between his searching fingers. His mouth was not the hideous gash he remembered, but was perfect in every way. A miracle had occurred! He was unmarred, as he had always longed to be.

"I can hardly wait," he said, taking her arm. The two of them walked over the rounded top of the nearby knoll and into the light together.

That evening, when he didn't come home for supper, Aurelia and Vincent came looking for Erik, and discovered his body on the bench beside the graves. There was such a look of peace about him that it took Aurelia's breath as she wiped away the tears.

"Don't cry, my love," Vincent said, though his own eyes brimmed with sadness.

"I'm being selfish. It's just that…I'll miss him so," Aurelia replied, as the gentle breeze stirred her hair. "But I'm happy for him. He's with her now — my mother. Now he can be at peace."

In the distance, she thought she heard two voices – the voices of angels – carried on the wind, and in her heart, she knew it was her mother and father, united in song at last…forever.

~The End~