Okay, sue me, I saw Phantom of the Opera with my family again when it was at the Pantages recently. Anyway the original novel, the Kay novel, both ALW musicals, and the 2004 movie are all free game here. Add loops as you like.
Erik blinked a bit as the world seemed to reset around him. He took a moment to look over his surroundings and sighed a bit in contentment to see his old subterranean lair beneanth the Opera Populaire. After the mess that had developed in the one time loop where he and the Giry's had moved to New York it was always a significant relief to find himself in his usual surroundings.
He really should have recognized the infection that had so drastically compromised both Antoinette's and Marguerite's minds before if had spread so far or the fevers had harmed them so completely. Of course the fact he had been so distracted by the loss of Christine to the fop that he failed to notice Meg had apparently fallen in love with him or that Madame Giry had been pimping her daughter out, someone a step away from prima ballerina no less, to fund their new enterprises still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Such acts were so far out of character for both women that had he just seen them he could have helped them before things devolved like that.
As it stood, though, that was little more than a distant memory. One neither Meg nor Antoinette thankfully shared as anything other than a warning to let him know if they were fevered as neither had looped with him for that timeline.
Of course his reverie did little to address the most important fact to consider in a restarted time loop, namely the time and date of his arrival. For that, Erik has a trick all of his own that was far more reliable than any clock or calendar. It took but a moment to look over his copy of Don Juan Triumphant, his most recent opera, to see where he was in the loop. He could tack his progress with the work easily. Looking over his notes he could only sigh as he commented "Drat."
"I take it you have ascertained that Miss Daae has just returned to the world above after seeing your face, Erik?" Antoinette giry inquired, he stern face countered by the kind look in her eyes.
"I had hoped to arrive back before the Hannibal performance and spare us both that unpleasantness, Annie," Erik replied with a grunt of distaste, not the least surprised to see her there in his home. It was a long habit for either of the Giry's to see him at the start of any time loop where they had joined him in reliving their lives. "Meg?" he asked, concerned for his favorite "niece."
"Looking after Christine, and looping herself as well. She will visit later after practice," Antoinette informed him before moving toward his modest kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
"Wonderful. I suppose she will take it upon herself to make me "happy" again?" Erik asked sourly.
"No matter how hard it is for you to understand, Erik, both my daughter and I care for you. We always have," Madame Girl shot back without looking up from the preperation of her drink.
"That has done you more harm than good on more than one occasion, my oldest friend," the Phantom responded with a tired sigh.
"Is this about that abominable loop you insist you endured again? Because as I understand it, it was the fevers and not love for you that were the root of that problem. I would think ma petite ange would be more likely to become Christine's personal maid and attendant than let that dismal future unfold. And she is still not pleased with how Christine seems to play you and the Vicomte against each other all the time, so the thought of her working for her 'sister' is quite laughable," Antoinette informed Erik with a raise of her right brow.
"I will never let that loop happen again. But your point is well taken taken, Annie. It still does not change my heart, though," Erik replied with a forlorn look toward the ceiling as he pictured his Angel there in the Opera above.
"You had better accept that people care for you, Erik. You have me, Meg, and Nadir. You will not just wallow in darkness and let yourself be hurt over and over again. How many times have you looped alone and let the timeline play out completely unchanged?" Madame Giry demanded.
"A few times," Erik hedged. In truth, he had lost count but he was certain it was well into double, if not triple, didgets where he tortured himself with his prime timeline again just to hear Christine sing, or to have her kiss him that one time.
"Mon dieu, you are stubborn. Perhaps you should marry that mannequin you made of Christine. It seems to be the only thing with the patience to deal with you sometimes," Antoinette muttered. "Well, there will be none of that this time. Meg has already informed our new mangers of the fact that it was her dear and reclusive Uncle, who helped build this very Opera House, that it was he who has trained Christine. Your days as the Angel of Music are over, Erik. You will have to settle for titles like "Maestro" and "the genius behind the Opera" now. She will be also be informing them of all the wonderful inventions you built into this place that you maintained for Monsieur LeFerve as part of your "salary" that are unmentioned for tax purposes," she added with a superior smirk.
"Erik looked ready to fly into a murderous rage, something he was more than capable of with all but Girys and Christine herself, before sighing and accepting the cup of tea Antoinenne handed him as she sipped her own.
"I do still have a murder charge on my head, you know," Erik informed her.
"You were nine, he was a gypsy who had enslaved you illegally no matter what he paid the monster that called herself your mother to put you in that sideshow, and he was trying to rape you. If we were smarter back then you would have been living with my family all along and never felt the need to hide. You would have been a media darling for a while, your mother would most likely have been arrested for slavery charges, and we both would have been much happier. Instead I can only make up for lost time and force you to show the world what you have to offer without the mobs and torches involved. Get it in your head to be a person Erik. There is nobody to stop us this time," Antoinette instructed him.
*****
"So... you're saying that my Angel of Music is actually your Uncle, Meg?" Christine asked, confused.
Meg sighed to herself and wondered is Christine could really be this dim. How Erik had turned this twit that used to sing like a rusty hinge into a prima donna she would never know. "Not exactly but close enough. Maman rescued him as a child. He was... abused for his condition and sold off by his mother," Meg explained, her face falling into a scowl as she mentioned the woman that had given birth to her favorite Opera ghost.
"But then... why have I never seen him?" Christine asked.
Meg's face grew sad as she explained, "He is afraid to show himself. He was born... disfigured. It's not as bad as he makes it out to be, or at least I don't think so, but he basically created the whole image of the Phantom of the Opera to keep people away from him. Not many know that he helped to design and build this very Opera House as no more than a teenager. That's why he can move through it so freely and unseen."
"But then why did he say he was the Angel of Music?" Christine asked.
"To help comfort you when you first came here, I suppose. You struck something in him, something nobody but Maman and I had come close to before. He wanted you to be happy. And for Erik, happiness is music. He's a man of a thousand talents, but his first love will always be his music," Meg explained.
"So he is an Angel of Music, after a fashion, if only a mortal one," Chrisitne commented softly.
Meg snorted a bit as she said, "He's a showman out of necessity to help him appear larger than life and to protect himself. He's a master architect and inventor. He's probably the most talented tenor I've ever heard and a master of several musical instruments. He's the best composer I know. But an Angel? No. Just a sad man that we must help to learn to face the world rather than hide from it. He's still embarassed that you tried to see his face when he took you to his home."
"I... I don't remember," Chrsitine said as she tried to picture the face of her Angel.
"Of course not. You did faint after he yelled at you for removing his mask. Honestly, you should have known better than that Christine. It was horribly rude," Meg admonished the young singer.
Erik blinked a bit as the world seemed to reset around him. He took a moment to look over his surroundings and sighed a bit in contentment to see his old subterranean lair beneanth the Opera Populaire. After the mess that had developed in the one time loop where he and the Giry's had moved to New York it was always a significant relief to find himself in his usual surroundings.
He really should have recognized the infection that had so drastically compromised both Antoinette's and Marguerite's minds before if had spread so far or the fevers had harmed them so completely. Of course the fact he had been so distracted by the loss of Christine to the fop that he failed to notice Meg had apparently fallen in love with him or that Madame Giry had been pimping her daughter out, someone a step away from prima ballerina no less, to fund their new enterprises still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Such acts were so far out of character for both women that had he just seen them he could have helped them before things devolved like that.
As it stood, though, that was little more than a distant memory. One neither Meg nor Antoinette thankfully shared as anything other than a warning to let him know if they were fevered as neither had looped with him for that timeline.
Of course his reverie did little to address the most important fact to consider in a restarted time loop, namely the time and date of his arrival. For that, Erik has a trick all of his own that was far more reliable than any clock or calendar. It took but a moment to look over his copy of Don Juan Triumphant, his most recent opera, to see where he was in the loop. He could tack his progress with the work easily. Looking over his notes he could only sigh as he commented "Drat."
"I take it you have ascertained that Miss Daae has just returned to the world above after seeing your face, Erik?" Antoinette giry inquired, he stern face countered by the kind look in her eyes.
"I had hoped to arrive back before the Hannibal performance and spare us both that unpleasantness, Annie," Erik replied with a grunt of distaste, not the least surprised to see her there in his home. It was a long habit for either of the Giry's to see him at the start of any time loop where they had joined him in reliving their lives. "Meg?" he asked, concerned for his favorite "niece."
"Looking after Christine, and looping herself as well. She will visit later after practice," Antoinette informed him before moving toward his modest kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
"Wonderful. I suppose she will take it upon herself to make me "happy" again?" Erik asked sourly.
"No matter how hard it is for you to understand, Erik, both my daughter and I care for you. We always have," Madame Girl shot back without looking up from the preperation of her drink.
"That has done you more harm than good on more than one occasion, my oldest friend," the Phantom responded with a tired sigh.
"Is this about that abominable loop you insist you endured again? Because as I understand it, it was the fevers and not love for you that were the root of that problem. I would think ma petite ange would be more likely to become Christine's personal maid and attendant than let that dismal future unfold. And she is still not pleased with how Christine seems to play you and the Vicomte against each other all the time, so the thought of her working for her 'sister' is quite laughable," Antoinette informed Erik with a raise of her right brow.
"I will never let that loop happen again. But your point is well taken taken, Annie. It still does not change my heart, though," Erik replied with a forlorn look toward the ceiling as he pictured his Angel there in the Opera above.
"You had better accept that people care for you, Erik. You have me, Meg, and Nadir. You will not just wallow in darkness and let yourself be hurt over and over again. How many times have you looped alone and let the timeline play out completely unchanged?" Madame Giry demanded.
"A few times," Erik hedged. In truth, he had lost count but he was certain it was well into double, if not triple, didgets where he tortured himself with his prime timeline again just to hear Christine sing, or to have her kiss him that one time.
"Mon dieu, you are stubborn. Perhaps you should marry that mannequin you made of Christine. It seems to be the only thing with the patience to deal with you sometimes," Antoinette muttered. "Well, there will be none of that this time. Meg has already informed our new mangers of the fact that it was her dear and reclusive Uncle, who helped build this very Opera House, that it was he who has trained Christine. Your days as the Angel of Music are over, Erik. You will have to settle for titles like "Maestro" and "the genius behind the Opera" now. She will be also be informing them of all the wonderful inventions you built into this place that you maintained for Monsieur LeFerve as part of your "salary" that are unmentioned for tax purposes," she added with a superior smirk.
"Erik looked ready to fly into a murderous rage, something he was more than capable of with all but Girys and Christine herself, before sighing and accepting the cup of tea Antoinenne handed him as she sipped her own.
"I do still have a murder charge on my head, you know," Erik informed her.
"You were nine, he was a gypsy who had enslaved you illegally no matter what he paid the monster that called herself your mother to put you in that sideshow, and he was trying to rape you. If we were smarter back then you would have been living with my family all along and never felt the need to hide. You would have been a media darling for a while, your mother would most likely have been arrested for slavery charges, and we both would have been much happier. Instead I can only make up for lost time and force you to show the world what you have to offer without the mobs and torches involved. Get it in your head to be a person Erik. There is nobody to stop us this time," Antoinette instructed him.
*****
"So... you're saying that my Angel of Music is actually your Uncle, Meg?" Christine asked, confused.
Meg sighed to herself and wondered is Christine could really be this dim. How Erik had turned this twit that used to sing like a rusty hinge into a prima donna she would never know. "Not exactly but close enough. Maman rescued him as a child. He was... abused for his condition and sold off by his mother," Meg explained, her face falling into a scowl as she mentioned the woman that had given birth to her favorite Opera ghost.
"But then... why have I never seen him?" Christine asked.
Meg's face grew sad as she explained, "He is afraid to show himself. He was born... disfigured. It's not as bad as he makes it out to be, or at least I don't think so, but he basically created the whole image of the Phantom of the Opera to keep people away from him. Not many know that he helped to design and build this very Opera House as no more than a teenager. That's why he can move through it so freely and unseen."
"But then why did he say he was the Angel of Music?" Christine asked.
"To help comfort you when you first came here, I suppose. You struck something in him, something nobody but Maman and I had come close to before. He wanted you to be happy. And for Erik, happiness is music. He's a man of a thousand talents, but his first love will always be his music," Meg explained.
"So he is an Angel of Music, after a fashion, if only a mortal one," Chrisitne commented softly.
Meg snorted a bit as she said, "He's a showman out of necessity to help him appear larger than life and to protect himself. He's a master architect and inventor. He's probably the most talented tenor I've ever heard and a master of several musical instruments. He's the best composer I know. But an Angel? No. Just a sad man that we must help to learn to face the world rather than hide from it. He's still embarassed that you tried to see his face when he took you to his home."
"I... I don't remember," Chrsitine said as she tried to picture the face of her Angel.
"Of course not. You did faint after he yelled at you for removing his mask. Honestly, you should have known better than that Christine. It was horribly rude," Meg admonished the young singer.