The Phantom of the Opera: Epilogue
Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.
A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.
The Paris Opera House closed after the premiere of Don Juan Triumphant. The public was too frightened by the presence of demons to demand refunds from the opera, and the employees had quit en masse after the discovery of the bodies of Jinx, Malchior, and the charred remains of Monsieur le Blood. The battered condition of le Vicomte de Wayne when he and Bumblebee emerged from the lower levels only fueled the haste of the Opera House's closing.
Beast Boy and Cyborg remained close friends and continued to conduct business as partners. They went into the automotive business and made a massive profit when the demand for automobiles skyrocketed. Cyborg's cars were considered the height of luxury and fashion in Paris, and Beast Boy was able to create his long dreamt of moped. The closeness of the two men was also done partly to please their wives, as Bumblebee and Terra felt a distinct need to keep their friendship intact.
Bumblebee never told a soul of what she had seen the night Don Juan was performed, only quietly telling Terra that Starfire was all right. She did not know precisely what she had seen, and so she did not assume to understand everything. What she knew was that Starfire had a smile on her face before she disappeared, and so she did not fear for her friend. She and Terra led happy lives with their husbands.
Robin could not claim the same type of happiness. He left Paris immediately after regaining consciousness. He hid himself away in America, taking on the same reclusive, philanthropic lifestyle of Bruce Wayne. When Wayne died, Robin inherited the title of count. He never answered any questions about his life in Paris, and refused to listen to music of any kind for years. Theaters were anathema to him.
He could not explain why he returned to Paris when he heard of the Opera House's grand reopening. He did not know what drew him to the auction, nor did he understand why he purchased the Opera Ghost's mask.
Le Comte de Wayne walked away from the Opera House, the mask still clutched tightly in his hand. His swift pace soon slowed to a half-hearted meandering, and he lifted the mask to examine it. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the flow of people around him. It was little wonder that someone ran straight into him as he stood there, but he managed to keep his feet.
"I'm sorry!" the young woman said. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." Robin meant to give the young woman an apology of his own, but he found himself unable to breathe when he looked at her face. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and her hair was long and beautifully red. She was the picture of youth, dressed prettily in a violet dress and wrapped in an indigo cloak. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she spoke of her eagerness to see the Opera House before it opened again.
"You'll be able to see it as much as you like," another woman said. Robin's stare moved to the woman with long black hair and dark blue eyes. She wore a femininely cut suit and an indigo cloak to match the other woman's, and a black fedora sat fashionably on her head. She smiled at the red-haired woman, taking her left hand. Robin stared at the gold ring on the red-haired woman's hand, blinking when the dark-eyed woman looked at him. She raised an eyebrow slowly, but gave the red-haired woman another smile.
"Go on, Koriand'r," she said. "I'll be along soon. Tell my mother not to worry." The red-haired woman smiled and hurried away, never sparing Robin a second glance. The dark-eyed woman turned to Robin, and he backed slowly away from her. She followed him into the alleyway he shuffled into, moving swiftly to force him against a wall. "How many years has it been, monsieur?"
"You can't be her," Robin whispered. His chest was burning with pain, his heart pounding irregularly. "It's been fifty years. You can't be her."
"It's remarkable how easy it was to give her a long lifespan," the woman murmured. "She'll live as long as I do now, and she'll look as lovely as she was the day the spell was cast."
"You're not," Robin said desperately. "You're not." He clutched at his chest, his vision blurring. The woman smiled at him and swept the hat from her head. She took the mask from his trembling hand and laid it over her face. Robin felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest and fought for one last breath. His body slumped against the wall and slid slowly to the ground, the visage of the Phantom eternally burned upon his unblinking gaze.
Raven put her hat back on her head, tucking the mask in a pocket within her cloak. It would make an interesting conversation piece at the Opera House, should any of the corps de ballet under Starfire's tutelage visit their teacher in the room she and Raven shared. She strode out of the alleyway, walking swiftly down the avenue. It wouldn't do for the Opera House to open its doors once again without its new conductor, and the managers Mesdames Dolan and Kali were quite peculiar about punctuality.