Chapter Text
The remnants of the people of Paris still spoke at times of the disappearance of Vicomte de Chagny and the day Death walked the streets of Paris. Over the past five years, memories of the day Paris fell were still strong, though people had grown to accept that not every question about it would be answered.
Nadir stood at the window of his private investigator’s office, looking over the busy streets of Vienna. The newspaper in his hand spoke of a small outbreak of the virus in New York City, but an outbreak in Europe hadn’t been reported in six months.
Quickly, the thirteen-year-long nightmare was ending.
He smiled and set the newspaper on his desk as he heard loud, arguing voices approaching the door to his office. He straightened his jacket as Meg came through his door without knocking. “The world has changed. How can workers go from being told that the upkeep of society rests on us to being paid the same pittances we were paid before the plague happened? It’s only a matter of time before the age of princes and kings are over and the age of the working class will begin.”
Raoul followed behind her. “I’m not arguing that, just that society could do with some stability for a bit.” He glanced over towards Nadir and gave a slight nod. “Good afternoon, Nadir.”
Nadir grabbed his hat. “Do you want to continue this discussion over tea?”
Meg said, “Certainly. And don’t get me started on the demand for labor versus the amount of available labor…”
Nadir smiled to himself as he followed them out of the office, briefly brushing his fingers over the letter on his desk that had come earlier today, with its red wax seal and messy handwriting.
Once upon a time, there was a quiet village west of Rouen named Saint-Martin-de-Boscherville. Just outside that quiet village was a house, and in that house there once lived a family that was irrevocably broken by tragedy.
Now, the entire village was quiet. Even as the buildings still stood, vines grew up the walls; grass poked through the pavement; the baptistry where so many babies were christened now held a bird’s nest.
Christine stood outside the quiet house outside the village. The outside boards were nearly rotted through, and she could tell it would only be a matter of time before it collapsed. Hardly any trace of people occupying it remained, save for the two graves under the tree beside the house.
She watched Erik as he stood in front of the two graves. She gave him a few more moments to himself before approaching him. She ran a hand down his arm, and he turned around and leaned his forehead against hers. Christine closed her eyes in contentment as the false nose of his mask nestled against hers. “What now?” she said.
Erik said, “The opera in Vienna is opening. I could…”
Christine put a finger to his mouth. “Please, I want to earn a position. By my own merit.”
He grumbled, “They’d be a fool…”
Christine laughed and placed a hand on his masked cheek. Then, she smiled as he pressed his lips to hers.