A/N: Okay, I think all of this goes without saying. I just had this idea, stupid, isn't it?

Disclaimer: I don't own Erik, neither Madame Giry nor Phantom of the Opera at all. What a shame. bents down head

Thanks to my beta Nota Lone.

Long, long Night

One-Shot

Madame Giry sat in front of her mirror and looked at herself. Her long curls fell upon her shoulders and the candles around her flickered. A rose lay in the table, its gentle color stroking Antoinette's eyes. She touched her hair. Tonight, she would get down to Erik and ask him out on a picnic – at night. Her eyes flickered with excitement. While she combed her hair- with an attention she always paid to everything she did- she thought about her relationship to him. Her fingers touched her hair and she sighed.

Outside, it was dark and yet the stars and the moon enlightened the way for all Parisians. It was not cold, it was an autumn night and Antoinette had the day off.

Oh, how pleased she was about the time she could have with him! She went down as often as she could to keep him company. She loved the sound of her dress, her skirt, moving while she got down the stairs to see him. Every time, it was new and her cheeks blushed. Her heart started to beat unusually fast against her corset.

She eyed her neck and her cleavage. Her skin was light and it felt soft, and maybe he would even kiss the soft skin of her neck that night. She hoped it, every thought of the day circled around this one moment when he would – finally – admit that he loved her, too. But that was, unfortunately, not yet the case. So Antoinette put on some perfume and stood up again. She took one last look outside. Paris seemed so big out of the windows of the Opera Populaire. Paris was big. But was it big enough for the Phantom and her?

She had always struggled with herself whether or not to tell him, but a peaceful silence laid down on her soul and she felt it wouldn't be necessary that night. Her fingers touched the glass of her window and she watched some people pass the Opera. 'They don't know what I'm going to do tonight,' she thought, 'I'll have a picnic with the most mysterious man in Paris. Maybe even in France. And he loves me.'

It had been clear long before. He had touched her cheek when he laughed about her jokes, he had sung for her his most impressive melodies. He watched her closely all the time she was down there with him – the signs couldn't be more obvious for Antoinette. She felt young again. She was not little Antoinette who danced in the Corps anymore, she was not the fearful wife of some Mister Giry who had betrayed her. She wasn't the mother of Meg who was just growing to be a beautiful woman. She was a lover. And the love rushed through her venes.

She closed the door behind her.

"Mom," Meg's voice echoed through the hallway.

"Honey," she said surprised, "I'll go and have a piknic with Erik."

Her daughter laughed and shrugged. "How are you going to get him out of here?"

"I told you, I have my ways. Maybe just the way I could introduce you to him without anybody noticing?"

Yes, it was true – Madame Giry was a master of secrets. She had shown him her daughter, oh how proud she was when she saw the smile on Erik's face. She felt like Meg was her product, her success. Antoinette turned from Meg and went off. She couldn't wait for the night to come, so she hurried.

"Antoinette!"

Erik rose from his chair. "My dear, are you ready to go?"

"Yes." She had difficulties controlling her breath, so excited she was. "Let us go, it's late already."

"Do we mean to come back?" He touched her cheek again. "How beautiful you are."

She blushed again and gave him a kiss on his cheek. It was her ritual to say hello to him, as well as she said goodbye this way. Little touches between them made her shiver and at night she would fall asleep imagining his fingers touching her cheek again.

"Antoinette, take care," he breathed into her ear. "Don't you see that man? You can't just walk on the street without looking around. God knows about his intentions, walking around in the middle of the night."

"I met Meg and told her we'd be out, so we're not the only ones knowing about this. Why should we worry about this man?"

"Because I trust your daughter, but that one," he pointed to him, "I don't know."

Antoinette nodded her head and they decided to wait in the shadow of a house until the way would be free. As soon as they couldn't see the shape of the old man anymore, they crossed the street and sat down in the little park. Antoinette took out the food she had brought and placed it on a bench. Erik watched her with a little smile. "You thought about everything, didn't you?", he asked and chuckled. "How nice of you."

Antoinette opened a bottle of wine and they drank. The soft breeze cooled down her dark red cheeks and her hair waved in the gentle wind.

"You took me here to speak to me," he said. "Don't lie."

She froze.

"Well, yes. "

"So, I have something to say, too. Maybe I should start." He bent over and kissed her cheek again. She placed her glass on the bench again and looked at him. He was awfully attractive in the moonlight.

"I came with you to ask for the hand of somebody." He smiled.

"Really?" She was speechless. It was not what she had anticipated, no, much better. "You do? Do I know her?"

"Yes." He paused again. "She looks very much like you."

She had to laugh. Even in those serious situations, the Phantom would have enough charm to make her feel at ease. "Yes," she said and looked at him.

"Your daughter."

Antoinette lost the control over her facial expression. Her heart sank onto the earth, maybe even lower. The moon stopped shining so bright immediately and the stars cried with her.

"Oh," she said.

"What do you think?"

"Nice."

"Are you okay? You're so pale."

"Hmm," she said and stared onto the grass. She hardly held back the tears. "Erik, I'm freezing, let's get back." He agreed and they packed the cheese and the wine.

"What is it, Antoinette?" He stood in front of her, down in the catacombs and said goodbye for the night. She hadn't given him a kiss, so his mind finally caught something just had to be wrong.

"Nothing, I'm just feeling sick. I get old, Erik, that's all." Her voice was silent, her hands shoke in her gloves. But she didn't allow herself to show more of her feelings.

"I want a goodbye kiss."

Oh, what a torture, what a death, something died, was it her? What was it? Something shrieked, something hit her hard in the heart, but she did it, she bent over and kissed his cheek. Something died. Deep inside of her.

The Ending