She was gone. His Christine, his Angel of Music- reduced to a cruel memory. No matter how hard he pounded on the ivory keys of the organ, he could still hear the gun shot ringing in his ears, could still close his eyes and see her shrunken form, and could still feel her kiss lingering on his bloated lips. For one shining moment, everything he had ever wanted was his. All the years of dreaming and screaming alone in the darkness, of longing for love from this heavenly creature had seen his secret hope come true. During the performance, he was so consumed by Christine's voice that he felt his soul lifted from his body. And after, when her boy had fled the island and she professed her love for her Erik, there were no words to describe his rapture. In his ecstasy, he was even able to forget his deformity. He was simply a man in love with a woman. And then it was all ripped away in the cold space of minute.

It was no longer in him to feel rage for the wench who stole his love from him, not just now. After Meg fired the gun, he sent her and Madame Giry off Coney, threatening their lives if he ever saw them again. But now that rage was gone. At this moment, all that remained was numbness with a deep sorrow throbbing beneath the surface. Not long after Christine's death, Erik went through the motions of making her funeral arrangements, though he could not quite recall any of the details. Whether that was a result of grief or his drunken stupor, he was not sure. In the upstairs of his home, Gustave was in a deep sleep, the child's cure for all hardships. Erik sat at the organ futilely attempt to drown his sorrow in music and an ungodly amount of alcohol. He doubted if he would ever be able to sleep again.

His head snapped up when the clamor at his front door assaulted his ears. At first he thought he was imagining the sound of struggling, but then he saw Squelch and Gangle tugging the hooded form of a man, trailing behind Fleck. They rang the doorbell as the form fought their vise-like grips. Erik quickly adjusted his mask and wig.

Whipping the door open, he barked, "What is the meaning of this?! I told you to let me alone!"

"We're sorry, Master, but we thought you would be interested in our finding." Gangle yanked the hood of the captive. Erik could not contain his gasp.

"The Vicomte! Why have you brought him here? This is an insult to me and my dear Christine."

"We found him lurking around the docks, Master. We thought that you would not want to miss out on the punishment we have planned," Fleck said, pulling out a box of matches from the pocket of her dress.

"Let us teach him what it means to be an oddity. Let him know what it feels like to be maimed by the world," Squelch added, with a devilish grin.

Erik was wrenched from his numbness. He could not believe what he was hearing.

"You imbeciles! Has life taught you nothing? What do you mean by condemning another to our darkness? Release the Vicomte and get out of here! Now!"

The three looked confusedly at one another before creeping away like beaten dogs. Raoul appeared just as surprised.

"You aren't going to burn me at the stake like your henchmen proposed?" He wiped the blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

"Don't be so stupid, boy. I may have the face of a devil, but that does not mean I am one," Erik spat. Softer, he turned away and said, "I would not damn anyone to this hell."

"I am now thirty-two years old and you still call me 'boy'. Tell me why that is."

"Because, that is what you are. What were you doing loitering around my docks? If I recall correctly, you were supposed to be on a boat back to Paris."

"News travels fast. I- I had to know the truth. Is Christine...?"

"Yes," Erik choked back tears as Raoul collapsed against the wall.

"My God. My God! It's all my fault." His hands reached to shield the hot tears that were beginning to fall. Though he was not sure why, the sight enraged Erik.

"Don't flatter yourself with such self-importance, you silly fop. It was the Giry girl that pulled the trigger." The two enemies sat in silence.

"It was always you, you know," Raoul whispered. "Even on our wedding day, I knew that it was you she imagined she was wedding. I may have had her vow, but it was you and your damned music that always possessed her heart." His bloodshot eyes rose to meet Erik's discolored orbs. "Where's my- where's Gustave?"

Erik swallowed. "He is upstairs, asleep. I intend to let him rest as long as he can."

"When he wakes, offer him some warm milk with honey. His mother and I used to give it to him when he had nightmares."

"I'll be sure to do as you say."

Raoul faced the door. "I believe that I will keep my part of the bet and depart from this god forsaken island."

"I'll be sure my men know of your coming." To both of their shock, the younger man stretched out his hand in goodbye. Erik reached out to take it. As Raoul turned to leave, Erik called out, "Vicomte?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever find yourself in America, I'm sure that Gustave would be pleased to see you." The Vicomte de Chagny's face lit up like the many rides in the amusement park.

"Thank you, Monsieur." Opening the door, the man slipped quietly into the streets of Coney, leaving Erik to mourn in silence.