Author's note: Thank you all for reading—I hope you've liked the exciting finale! I wanted to write this to wrap up some things you may have wondered about and give a glance into the future…

Raoul de Chagny sat down slowly by the fireside, next to his wife, a silly woman with not an intellectual thought in her head, whom he had married for the sole sake of necessity. But she had been good these fifty years, and as they both grew old, she was the stabilizing force in his life that allowed him to leave behind his incredible past. Oh, his past…he hadn't seen Erik or Christine since they separated in Paris, saying to each other a vaguely awkward farewell.

Nadir and Raoul had met shortly after, discussing what had happened in Rouen. Nadir had told Raoul how he had gone to Rouen after learning from Khalid the plan that was in place, and how he had looked at the plan of the house to try to figure out the easiest way to escape without being caught, and told how they had all crawled through the sewers together.

Then Raoul told Nadir how he had woken up to discover that Christine had gone missing, and how, while frantically searching for a clue of where she had gone, he had come across Khalid who had seemed to find Raoul amusing, and had told him that Christine was with Mathieu, and gave him the address.

It had been hard for Raoul to find this address, and when he had finally reached the grand mansion, he had run through the gate just to see Christine, Erik, and Nadir come out of the sewer and be threatened by Mathieu and his cronies. Without thinking, he had shot the huge man threatening Christine. But after that, Erik and Christine seemed to be only wrapped up in each other, so Raoul had left and never heard the other side of the story, until he and Nadir had talked. He and Nadir had actually met a few times after that, but the relationship was strained, and they met only as a sort of reliving of the experiences.

He had almost left the whole experience far behind him, but now, as an old man sitting at his fireplace, he wondered where Christine and Erik were today…

Giuseppe Antonelli was proud of the Venice Opera where he was conductor at. Tonight they would be performing Il Muto. He remembered how some of the stage hands had been running around, pretending to be Phantoms every time they rehearsed this opera. He wasn't quite sure how the idea of a Phantom became locked up with this opera—he thought it had something to do with some Opera House in France somewhere. No matter—it made people somehow even more interested in coming.

In the ten or so minutes remaining before the performance began, Giuseppe turned around in his position in the orchestra pit and surveyed the audience. He ignored the people sitting the orchestra—they were always the ones paying the least, and therefore the least interesting. He did notice that it was packed, though, but he didn't dwell on it, and instead slid his eyes over the people sitting in the boxes.

There was Signora Capriccio and her husband—Signora Capriccio constantly sent letters to the managers, insisting that she be allowed to bring her two small dogs into the opera house with her. It irked her that they always refused her, but it didn't stop her from coming to every performance. In the next box over was Signor Huberto—he loved the opera, or, to be more specific, the female dancers in the opera. Even now Giuseppe could see Huberto licking his lips and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The next box contained two couples who were the cause of much conversation—no one could ever tell who was married to whom, for they always seemed to be trading off. Next to them were the Balanzis—they positively hated to opera—thought it was sinful and should be banned. But the poor souls, it was far too socially acceptable for them to be seen there, so they went to each opera, sniffing self righteously through the entire ordeal.

But in Box 5, there was a new couple. Giuseppe noticed the woman first. Though she was elderly, if he had been twenty years older or she that much younger, he would be running up to the box right now in an attempt to have her for himself. And, judging by her looks and the cut of her dress, she was French—so she would have a lovely accent when speaking Italian. Oh, if she were but younger he would steal her away from the man she was with, to whom Giuseppe now turned his attention. He was shocked to notice that the man was wearing a white mask that covered half his face. What a gaudy, tasteless allusion to Il Muto's Phantom connection, he thought. It didn't become the woman at all to be seen with that man.

"Looking at Box 5, monsieur?" Giuseppe heard the principal cellist ask from behind him. He turned around and saw the grizzled old cellist grinning at him. This cellist was a Frenchman who apparently had worked in every opera in West Europe, and always reminisced about his various experiences.

"Yes, I am," Giuseppe said in response to the question. "I was bemoaning the fact that the man in that box is wearing a mask—undoubtedly a reference to Il Muto and the Phantom."

The cellist cackled. "Not at all. Why, when I played for the Paris Opera House, any reference to the Phantom was accompanied by frightened shivers and hushed voices, and no one would look directly at Box 5," he said.

"Why ever not?"

"Look at our own Box 5 here and you will see why."

"What, you had a Phantom of Box 5?"

"Of the entire Opera."

"And what does this have to do with the couple sitting in our Opera House tonight?"

"I recognized Madam Christine Daaé as soon as I saw her. That will be the woman in Box 5. I was there when she first became a diva. Once I recognized her, it was obvious that something had happened, and she had not ended up the rich patron of the Paris Opera as seemed to be originally planned, but instead with the Phantom. I wonder how that happened."

"What on earth are you talking about? The patron of the Opera? The Phantom of the Opera? Who are these people?"

The cellist smiled. "Never mind," he said, and turned back to his cello and began playing. Giuseppe looked back to the couple. They were sitting close to each other, talking with animation to each other. At one point the man leaned over to the woman and gave her a light kiss. Ordinarily Giuseppe would have smiled, obviously seeing a love that had lasted for a long time, but the cellist had made him curious.

Giuseppe would go home that night wondering about the odd couple he had seen that night, and the odd story that he had heard. Was there truth in what the cellist had said? The last image he had in his mind was once he had gotten while glancing back to the couple when he had gotten a chance, which happened to be during the song "Poor Fool, he makes me Laugh." The entire audience had been guffawing at the antics of the characters on stage, but the couple seemed to have a specific memory involving this song, for they were gazing into each other's eyes. The woman had taken the man's hand; he had given a visible sigh, and said a soft word to her. She had nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder. That was the image Giuseppe carried to bed with him—one of utter comfort and happiness with the other, with harrowing experiences behind them, and an understanding and love between them that was monumental.

Happiness for all! OK, I know that got a little maudlin at the end, but I feel that it warranted it. I hope you have all enjoyed this tale, and thanks to all my reviewers for making me so very happy. If anyone else would like to review, I would be happy to hear what anyone and everyone has to say. Thank you all!