For A Glorious Future

by Chrysalin

After the events of the movie, Christine returns to Erik's place beneath the opera house with a warning- Raoul wants him dead. When the Vicomte's older brother shows up with a shocking revelation, what's next? Please R&R.

AN: Welcome to my second Phantom of the Opera story! The first one sadly has yet to get any reviews, but I shall persevere. However, I must warn my dear readers that I am rather mean to the fop- I mean Raoul. I don't like him, end of story. My apologies, but it's true. Erik is way better. Now, that's enough of my babbling, to the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera in any form.

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Erik played softly, letting the notes of "Point of No Return" float in the air in an eerie fashion. Finally, he rose and stretched, easing the ache in his shoulders from spending too long at his organ. He paused, cocking his head to one side to listen more closely.

Footsteps. Three sets. Not men, though- there was the distinct clatter of a lady's heeled shoes in the gaits of each. He carefully stilled all of the traps and opened the main entry, suspecting it would be Antoinette Giry and her daughter, possibly with another lady that wished to commission some of his work.

He had left briefly after the fire that had destroyed the Opera Populaire, travelling and beginning a small business using his myriad talents. He had done a great deal of designing and carving and was making a good living for himself. On occasion he would accept a small job as a magician. He refused to sell his music though. That was still far too sore a point for him, and Madame Giry had kindly chosen not to mention it to any of those wealthy that patronized his work, though a few had recognized him and attempted to purchase his Don Juan Triumphant.

"Erik!" she called. "Erik, are you here?"

"I'm here," he answered calmly. He recognized the girl at her side as her daughter, Meg. The other- Erik could not help but to draw a sharp breath.

Christine Daaé stood with the woman that had become his sister. In all his dreams, he had never expected to see her again, and certainly not standing in his home.

"Erik, Christine has some dire news," Madame Giry warned.

She looked at her ballet instructor before nodding. "I had to warn you. Raoul will be coming here soon, and he means to kill you."

He closed his eyes and remained perfectly still for a time before finally speaking. "Why?"

Christine glanced at her friends again. "I… I made the mistake of speaking well of you. He's gone mad, I think. He locked me in a room in his town house and went to make preparations. I climbed out the window and got here as quickly as I can."

Erik's eyes moved to the others as well. "That explains why you came, but did you think you would need protection from me?"

The young soprano slowly shook her head. "I didn't know if you'd speak to me, so I went to Madame first. She said she would come so you would know I was here for a reason."

Meg nodded. "Erik, she really did think you wouldn't want to see her again."

The muscles in his jaw tightened, but he carefully restrained his temper. "I see. So what are we to do now?"

Meg nudged her friend forward. Christine hung her head. "I don't know. I don't even know what I can do now. If I go back, he'll try to kill me as well."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, though the sound carried easily in the cavernous room. "He already threatened me for simply speaking of you. For coming to warn you…"

"Erik, she must remain with you," Madame Giry said.

"What?" he frowned, startled. "Why?"

"She cannot return to his house, and I cannot protect her. You can keep her safe."

He let out a bark of laughter. "I, keep her safe? I?"

"Yes," his sister replied firmly. "I know you do not have much faith in yourself, Erik, but I know you will not harm someone that needs your protection."

It was not harming her that he feared, not that way, but she lifted her doe eyes to his. "Please?"

Erik sighed, unable to resist. He had been there for her when she needed someone for most of her life- he could not simply cease because he was uncomfortable. "Very well. Give me a moment to bring the boat across."

Meg smiled. "Thank you." She exchanged a look with her mother. "We need to leave before Raoul makes his appearance. Good luck to you both."

He waved them off. "I'm sure we shall be quite well. Go quickly. I do not want either of you caught in this."

He unlashed the boat easily and poled across the small lake before offering Christine a hand. She accepted quietly, taking the place in front of him. For a moment, he saw things as they had been when she had first joined him in his domain. He shook it away as best he could. She needed his help. That did not make her his.

He lifted her out before retying the small vessel and returning to his organ while she seated herself on the steps. "Erik?" she said quietly.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what, precisely?"

"Everything," she murmured. "I made a horrible mistake, or rather, so many of them. I'm sorry."

"I'm afraid you shall have to elaborate if you wish for me to understand, Christine."

She stared at her lap. "I should never have hurt you so. I should not have allowed Raoul to persuade me to betray you. I should never have gone near him. I should have… I should have trusted you." Tears formed in her eyes.

He kneeled in front of her so their gazes were level and brushed them away, sparkling flecks against the black of his gloves. "I frightened you. The events that followed because of that are due to my error, not yours."

"I could have trusted you," she said bitterly. "I'd known you for so long and you'd never done anything to hurt me, but instead I found myself afraid and running away." She wrapped her arms around his neck and began weeping in earnest against his shoulder.

He immediately tensed, holding himself motionless to resist the urge to touch her. Eventually, though, he gave in, stroking her hair soothingly. "Your response was perfectly reasonable." He knew, though neither of them had said, that she referred to the incident during Il Muto with Buquet, and the scene on the roof after.

"Why didn't you stop me if you were there?" she asked tiredly. "I heard you call my name."

"I did not desire a confrontation with your lover," he answered. "I do not show myself easily nor often, as you should know. I chose to bide my time in hopes that your decision would change."

"You must have hated me."

Erik chose to reply honestly. "I did, briefly. I had given you everything you desired, and you repaid me with betrayal. Later, it changed."

"Why?"

"You saved me. In the cemetery, the Vicomte could have killed me, but you stopped him." He stopped himself and listened. "There's no time for this. Someone's coming."

"Raoul?"

"Most likely. Go, hide yourself in another room. I'll deal with him."

"But he's going to try to kill you!"

"I can protect myself," he promised. "He will not find me an easy target."

She began to walk away. "Erik, just so you know, I would never have left you if Raoul hadn't said he'd kill himself if I stayed." She reluctantly tore away and ducked into the nearest alcove. Erik glanced at the waterways, glad he'd returned the iron grate to its lowered position after Antoinette and her daughter had taken their leave. He would think on her words once the problem with the Vicomte was resolved.

A moment later, Raoul splashed up, a pistol in his hand. There were two others in his belt and he had a sword at his side as well. He took aim at Erik's head.

"I can't say I'm particularly pleased to see you again, Monsieur le Vicomte."

"You knew I was coming," Raoul accused. "She's here, isn't she? That's how you knew."

"I heard you coming. There is no conspiracy in that."

"How did you know it was me?" the younger man challenged.

Erik sighed. "Only four people know how to enter my realm. The other three are female, and none would create such an unholy racket. By process of elimination, it would have to be you."

Raoul pulled back the hammer. "I hope you're prepared to die then."

Erik tensed, prepared to leap out of the way when a third voice sounded. "Raoul, what are you doing?!"

The Comte Philippe de Chagny, appearing to be an older copy of Raoul himself, strode into view and grasped his younger brother's arm. "Are you mad? You cannot simply murder a man." He quickly took all the weapons and threw them into the water. With the gunpowder wet, the pistols were immediately useless, and the sword vanished in the murky waters.

Raoul struggled against Philippe's grip but eventually subsided when it became clear that it would not be easily broken. "He's a murderer. I'm bringing him to justice."

"By becoming a murderer yourself?" his brother demanded. "I credited you with more sense. Now, who is it you are attempting to kill?" Philippe shifted his gaze to peer through the grate.

Erik moved closer. Philippe took a step back in shock.

"It can't be… My God, is that you, Erik?"

He nodded. "It's been a long time, Philippe. Too long."

"Where have you been all these years?"

Erik gestured, indicating the surrounding catacombs. "Here, primarily."

"I thought you were dead. Why did you disappear?"

Erik frowned. "I would invite you to enter, but I cannot allow Raoul the same if he intends to do further damage."

"He won't." The Comte glared at his brother. "Will you?"

Raoul reluctantly nodded, though he continued to glare at the masked man. Erik released the lever to raise the portcullis and both splashed in. He silently offered them towels to dry themselves with before bringing out a bottle of brandy and a set of glasses.

"Christine?" he said softly.

She stepped back into the main room and immediately came to his side. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I assure you I'm quite well. I believe you know Raoul's brother Philippe?"

"Of course. It's wonderful to see you again, Monsieur le Comte."

He smiled. "And you as well, Mademoiselle Daaé, though I am sorry it is under less than pleasant circumstances." He frowned at his brother. "I apologize for any injury Raoul may have done either of you."

"He did not have the time to do so before you arrived," Erik assured him.

For the first time, Philippe noticed the mask that concealed the right side of Erik's face. "What happened to your face?"

Erik immediately turned away and Christine laid a comforting hand on his arm. "He doesn't mean you any harm," she murmured.

He sighed. "I know."

"Erik, what happened to you?" the Comte asked again.

"Why do you care?" Raoul protested bitterly. "You don't know him."

"Don't know him?" Philippe repeated incredulously. "Of course I know him."

"It doesn't matter," Erik interrupted. "As for the mask, I ran afoul of a group of gypsies and became a part of their freak show."

"They hurt you?" the Comte asked, aghast.

Erik nodded. "I was alone one night and was attacked. During the fight, I injured my face. They decided it could make them money, so when I came to I found myself in a cage in their show. The cretins even went so far as to do further damage."

Christine looked shocked while Raoul seemed to gloat. Philippe looked ill. "The same place?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean the same place?" Christine asked quietly, glancing between the men.

"When Erik was born, there was a large sore under his right eye," Philippe explained. "Luckily, it healed well and by the time he was a few years old it was barely visible. However, it remained extremely tender, quite prone to further damage."

"How do you know anything about it?" Raoul demanded irately.

"Why would I not know? He's our brother!" Philippe shouted.

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Our brother… The last two words seemed to bounce through the cavern and grow louder each time.

Raoul drew back as if he had been slapped. "Our what?"

"Your brother," Erik repeated firmly. "Rather, I am your half-brother, just as Philippe is."

"There is no way!" Raoul yelled. "You can't be!"

"He is," Philippe confirmed. "Erik is a year older than I. However, I thought him dead all these years. Why did you never return home? Clearly you escaped the gypsies."

"I had thought I would no longer be welcome," he answered tiredly. "For two years, I was trapped in a cage, beaten and made a mockery of. I learned to trust no one. It could have been someone in the family that set me up in the first place, as I had the impression that the attack was no coincidence."

"Who would do such a terrible thi- oh, no. She wouldn't have."

"Tell me, Philippe, were you ever attacked under mysterious circumstances?"

He nodded slowly, shock etched across his features. "Not more than a few days after we thought you had died. However, fortune was with me- one of Father's friends saw it and rescued me. Erik, Father honestly thought you were dead or he would have looked for you in an instant."

"What gave that impression?"

"We found a body shortly after you vanished- it was the right age and size, but the face was badly mangled. Since no other boy had been reported missing, it was believed to be yours."

"I see."

"Father was devastated, Erik, and Raoul's mother died only two weeks later. He never recovered from the shock. His health went badly downhill and he died a few years later. One of his friends assisted in managing the estate until I was old enough to take the position."

"Yes, I saw the announcement in the newspaper. I thought to return, even briefly, but I had just recently made my escape and was quite weak. It was a month until I had healed well enough to leave the opera house."

Philippe sighed. "I should get this miscreant home for the night, I think. We shall talk more on the morrow." He rose, dragging Raoul to his feet as well. "Erik, the title is still yours, if you want it. You are the true heir, after all. You can live a normal life again." The other man opened his mouth to reply, but the Comte shook his head. "Don't answer now. Take time to think about it first. Mademoiselle Daaé, are you returning with us?"

She glanced at Raoul warily and then turned to Erik. His lips tightened but he did not say anything. "I do not know what I shall do now," Christine replied slowly. "Erik?"

"The choice is yours," he said brusquely.

"I want to stay," she murmured tentatively.

The Comte frowned. "I cannot guarantee that Raoul will not attempt to do anything foolish if she is here. It would be best if she returned with me, at least for tonight. I would like to speak to her as well."

"It's Christine's choice," Erik repeated, but the hardness and anger was gone from his eyes.

She looked between them. "If I go, may I still return?" she asked.

"You are always welcome here," he assured her intensely.

She offered him a teary smile. "I will come back, then. The instant I can."

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Philippe ordered his younger brother to his rooms the instant the trio arrived at the townhouse and ordered a pair of menservants to watch him, making it quite clear Raoul was not to be allowed to leave the chambers. Once that task was done, though Raoul scowled mightily at the order, he led Christine to his study and offered her a seat before he himself began pacing wildly.

"All this time, my brother has been alive and in Paris. You knew?"

Christine shook her head. "I never knew he was your brother. Erik speaks very rarely of the past, of anything before the opera. He didn't even tell me his name- Madame Giry did when I went to her for help."

"This Madame Giry, who is she? What does she mean to Erik?"

"As she told me, Madame rescued him from the gypsies while she was still a girl and hid him in the opera house. She's become a sister to him."

Philippe frowned. "Did she say anything more specific?"

"No," she responded. "She was very vague with the details. Madame said it was Erik's tale to tell, that she would not reopen his wounds. I can only imagine it was very painful. Do you know who would have ordered Erik attacked?"

He gave a terse nod. "Raoul is our half brother, as you know. His mother resented Erik and I for being elder than him. She was a spoiled woman, and accustomed to receiving whatever her heart desired. We stood in the way of Raoul's inheriting our father's title. Erik often preferred to wander off on his own, though he was frequently chastised for it. It was on such an occasion that he was attacked."

"What about your mother?"

"Ours? Why?"

Christine lowered her gaze. "Erik said something about her once, in passing. That she loathed and feared him."

Philippe sighed. "Raoul's mother was spoiled, ours was very vain. She could not stand that her son had such a mark upon his face and decried him as a changeling or demon. She was executed while we were still young when Father caught her attempting to hurt him."

"She tried to hurt her own child?" Christine asked, aghast. "Simply because he was not perfect?"

"Unfortunately, yes. She never accepted his presence, even after it had healed, though she had no problem with me. It was our father that cared for him, when even nursemaids refused him. Father loved all his children, but I feel he loved Erik best because they were so close."

"Did that bother you?"

"How could I begrudge Erik the only parent he really had? I loved my brother, even when we were very young. He would play with me and made me toys, and would sing to me if I was upset or hurt."

"He has always been an Angel of Music then."

"Angel?" the Comte repeated, confused.

"I used to pray for an Angel of Music," she explained. "After my father died, I was very alone, and no one paid me much heed. Erik would sing to me and talk to me when no other would, and for many years I thought he was such an Angel. I know now that he is a man, but the name held."

The older man nodded his understanding. "Now, please tell me everything you know of Erik. I would like to know of his life."

She hesitated. "I don't know much about him before he came to the Opera Populaire."

Philippe waved it off. "Anything, please."

Christine sighed. "Very well, but I shall warn you that it is not a particularly happy story. You see, Erik was treated very, very poorly after he was taken by the gypsies. Madame says that to defend himself his mind split in two, so that one would protect the other from the worst of harm."

"Two?"

"Yes. I call them Angel and Phantom. The Angel is Erik as you seem to recall him, a kind man with music in his soul. The Phantom, though, is dark and very cruel. Though he was born to protect Erik from the cruelties he faced, the Phantom turned to evil himself and would do horrific things. Erik, however, did not understand the depths of that darkness himself. Even after the Phantom killed the man that kept him prisoner, he truly believed the Phantom to be his guardian. None of us understood more until much later."

"Erik killed a man?" Philippe whispered. "As only a small child?"

She nodded sadly. "The Phantom killed him and therefore rescued him from the cage, but instead he forced Erik further into a prison of in his own mind. He was so scared; he obeyed the Phantom blindly, thinking only that nothing could be worse than the years of torture he had already suffered.

"For all those years in the opera, Erik was alone. Only Madame Giry and then her daughter would speak to him, for they were the only ones that knew he existed and was not merely a ghost. I was the first one he chose to reveal himself too, and in the end I betrayed his trust."

"What happened?"

She proceeded to relate the events that had played out in the Opera Populaire with Erik, Raoul and herself, explaining all the while which actions were Erik's and which were the Phantom's dark guidance.

"It was not until that final night that Erik broke the Phantom's grasp," she finished, exhausted. "By choosing to let me go, though he desired to keep me with him so much, he defeated the darkness. He is one now rather than two, but he is haunted by the Phantom's misdeeds. He remains in the catacombs as a self-inflicted punishment because he believes that is all he deserves."

"Did you want to leave Erik?"

"No," she answered after a long pause. "I would never have done so if not for the consequences."

"Consequences?" When she hesitated to respond, he pressed. "Please, I must know."

"Very well," she consented reluctantly. "When Erik told me to make my decision, my heart knew it would be to stay with him, but I suspect Raoul knew as well. I do not know if Erik heard, but Raoul said he would end his own life if I chose Erik."

"He what?" Philippe asked, disbelieving.

"He threatened to kill himself if I left him," she confirmed. "For all that I wanted to stay with Erik, I could not allow another death. When Erik freed Raoul, I had to go with him to keep him alive. Please do not judge me too harshly, for I care for both of your brothers, but Raoul is simply my friend. It has always been Erik for me."

"Why did you agree to marry him?"

Christine stared out the massive window beyond the Comte. "I did not understand then Erik's dual nature. The Phantom terrified me, and I only sought protection from his danger. Raoul truly believed I loved him until he watched Erik and I sing during Don Juan Triumphant."

"And he forced you to make an impossible decision," Philippe concluded as he sank into the chair behind his desk. "Twice in one night you had to do so. I'm sorry."

She folded her arms against her chest. "Leaving Erik like that, when he so desperately needed me… it broke my heart."

The Comte was about to speak again when someone began hammering on the study door. "Blast it all, what is it?"

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Comte, but the Vicomte has vanished," a voice called. "He seems to have climbed from his window."

Christine paled violently as Philippe muttered a curse. "He means to go after Erik," she murmured. "I have to stop them."

She began to move to the entry, but Philippe placed a hand on her arm. "And what can you do to stop it?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but I have to try. Erik, at least, will heed me."

"Can you even reach them? Those catacombs are a labyrinth."

She nodded. "Madame Giry taught me the quickest path. If I hurry, I may be able to get there before Raoul."

He released her. "Give me a moment to gather my own arms and I will join you, Mademoiselle. I do not wish to lose either brother this night."

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Erik recognized the sound of approaching footsteps and lifted his gaze just as Raoul sloshed through the gateway once more. The masked man cursed when he realized he had been too caught up in composing to hear it sooner.

Raoul aimed a pistol at his head for the second time that evening and Erik barely choked back a second curse. "If you mean to kill me, stop waving that thing about and use it," he snapped.

"Oh, no," the Vicomte chuckled. "I can't make my move until the rest of the cast has arrived."

It only took him a moment to process his words. "You mean to force Christine to choose again, though she has made her decision quite clear."

Two more sets of splashes sounded and both men looked up to see both Christine and Philippe running up. She had changed to a pair of breeches and a loose white shirt, and Erik's breath caught. "Raoul, no! What are you doing!"

"A choice," he answered with a dark smile. "If you choose me, he lives. If you choose him… we both die."

"You would do that?" she asked in a harsh whisper. "Why?"

"You made the correct choice before. Can you do it again?"

Her eyes locked with Erik's. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Don't," he growled. "Don't you dare sacrifice yourself."

Raoul reached out and knocked Erik's mask away. He flinched back, hand automatically rising to cover the distorting scars, but Raoul pulled the hammer and Erik froze.

"Raoul, stop!" Philippe ordered. "He's our brother, for pity's sake!"

"This monster is no relation of mine," he sneered.

"No, not a monster, never a monster!" Christine cried.

Erik tensed. "My life is of no consequence. Do not give up yours simply to protect me."

"I'm sorry," she repeated as tears ran down her cheeks. "I can't let you die."

"A wise decision," Raoul commended. He handed her a rope. "Tie them up."

"What? Why?"

"We're going to be married now, Christine," he drawled, "and I won't have either of them interfering."

"No!" she protested.

He glanced at the pistol and Erik. "Are you changing your mind?"

She took the rope with deep reluctance and faced Erik and Philippe. "I'm so, so sorry."

She finished the task as quickly as she could, and Raoul checked the bonds before nodding with approval and shoving the weapon into his waistband. "Shall we go?"

Before she could answer, he grasped her wrist and dragged her after him. She struggled, but he was far stronger. "I'm sorry, Erik!" she called. "God, I'm so sorry!"

Erik snarled and struggled against the binding. Philippe yelped as the rope bit into his wrists. "Calm down!"

"No," he spat through gritted teeth. "I finally understand what happened that night. I shall not let that crazed peacock ruin it, brother or no."

"Erik, there is no way clear of these," Philippe snapped. "All you will do is hurt yourself!"

"There is," Erik countered. "If I could just…" He twisted until one bound hand came in contact with what he sought. With the flick of his finger on a hidden catch, a slender dagger slipped into his hand. "Got it."

"What can you do with it though? You cannot hope to reach the rope."

Erik's wrist bent back at a near impossible angle as he swiftly sliced away the binding cords. "I learned the art of contortion some great number of years ago. Perhaps Christine did not enlighten you, but there is little I cannot do." He severed the last knot and freed them both.

"They have a good lead on us though," Philippe observed as he quickly gathered his weapons. Erik swiftly did the same, belting on his sword while returning the dagger to the sheath at the small of his back. He also snatched a small sack from a nearby table.

Erik cast a sideways glance at his younger brother. "This is my domain, Philippe. She will slow him as well."

"What are you going to do to Raoul?"

Erik shrugged as he replaced his mask. "In truth, I have not yet decided. It depends on the situation when we find them."

Understanding that Erik would not actively seek Raoul's death unless given no other choice, Philippe voiced his second question. "Do you know where they will go?"

He nodded curtly. "There is only one priest in this part of the city that would agree to perform the ceremony."

"Do you have a plan?"

For the briefest of moments, Erik flashed him a wicked smile, yet it seemed impossibly tinged with sadness. "Oh, yes."

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"No, Raoul, let me go!" Christine protested as he pulled her toward the priest's small flat.

"No," the Vicomte growled. "This time, there will be no interference."

In her heart of hearts, Christine knew Erik would free himself, perhaps had already freed himself, and would come after her. She could only pray he didn't come too late.

Raoul pounded on the door until the old priest opened it and immediately thrust himself and his captive inside. "We should like to be married."

"My payment?" the old man asked sourly. "With a bonus for the late hour."

"Yes, yes, fine." Raoul shoved a heavy purse into the man's hands. "Quickly, if you please."

The priest shuffled out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a Bible in his hands. "Dearly beloved, we are gather-"

With a resounding crash, the door fell to the ground and Philippe stalked in, looking furious. "Raoul, are you daft?! You can't force a woman to marry you!"

"This is none of your concern!" he snapped.

"Perhaps not," a smooth voice, taut with temper, issued from the shadows at the edges of the room. Erik strode forward. "But it is mine. Release her."

Raoul drew his pistol once more, but a Punjab lasso flicked out and tore it from his grasp. "Damn you, how did you escape?"

"Fool that you are, you did not pay heed to the stories of the Opera Ghost, did you? I am capable of many things, not the least of which is escaping unwanted bonds. Now, return my intended to me."

"The police are on their way right now," the Vicomte bluffed.

Erik shook his head. "Even you are not so much the fool as to have involved the gendarme in this idiotic venture of yours. However, if you truly summoned them, perhaps you would explain why you kidnapped a lady and are attempting to force her into a marriage?"

"No one would believe you!"

"They would believe me," Philippe interjected. "And they would believe Erik, as the true heir to the de Chagny title and fortune."

Christine glanced at him in surprise. "You're taking the title?"

He nodded sharply. "Let her go, Raoul. Your brother and I have already summoned the police ourselves and they shall be here any moment. If you cease, they have consented to let this issue remain a family matter. If you persist, you risk prison."

"You're a wanted man!" Raoul protested. "All of Paris knows of your crimes."

"Yet who can prove it was I?" Erik asked. "Even if you managed to reveal me, such crimes would be excused."

"You killed innocent men!"

"The only deaths by my hand were in my defense," the masked gentleman explained simply. "The courts shall not punish me for such behavior."

"Accept it, Raoul," Philippe ordered. "You can't win this."

The young Vicomte pushed Christine away from him and stormed out into the night. Erik caught her when she stumbled and nearly fell. "Are you all right, ma belle ange?"

She nodded, throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming."

The girl shuddered in his grasp as he stroked her hair gently. "I will always protect you," he reassured.

"Angel, the title," she murmured. "Why?"

His lips thinned. "I could not save you as I was- no one would heed the Opera Ghost. I needed power to force his hand, and could not have that without taking up the position that my father always meant for me."

"You shouldn't give up the life you want for my sake!" she protested.

Erik shook his head slightly. "The life I desire… I have never had that. Even now, I would wish for a simple life with you and our music, but that too is out of my grasp. For your sake though, I cannot regret my decision. You matter more to me than any other desire, Christine. If I must become Comte for that, so be it."

Philippe approached the embracing couple. "You need not deny yourself your music, Erik. It shall take time to teach you the things you shall need, and I shall retain the position until you are ready. Even then, I am more than willing to assist you however you may need. Sing your operas, write your work- with both of us, the estate shall run well. I shall buy the Opera Populaire and have it renovated as a gift to you both."

Erik's gaze locked with his brother's. "If you truly mean your words, I shall thank you most profusely for your generosity, Philippe, though in truth I deserve none of this."

"Everyone deserves to be happy," he replied. "After so much misery, why should you deserve any less? Marry your love, keep your song. I will always support you both. Raoul-" he sighed. "He will accept this with time. Perhaps someday he will find his own love and our family will be whole."

He favored Christine with a slight bow and stepped out after forcefully propelling the old priest away with threats of revealing his corruption. Erik watched, merely grateful the fool had done nothing to hinder them upon their arrival, then returned his attention to the woman in his arms. "I love you," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her riot of curls.

Her eyes shot to his and latched on. "I know." She paused, drew a deep breath. "I love you as well. I have always loved you, perhaps from the moment I first heard your beautiful voice. I love you, Erik, and all I can do is apologize for the harm I've done."

He smiled faintly. "Wrongs have been committed on both sides, ma chère. Let us move from the past and seek the future."

"Will it be a glorious future? Filled with music and love?"

"The most beautiful of all," he promised. "As long as you're there, it couldn't be anything else."

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AN: For those who are new to my stories, I always make it clear that reviews of any variety are welcomed. Questions, comments, criticisms, even suggestions are gladly taken. So please, let me know what you think. Till next time!