Her second wedding is set to be very different from her first. For one thing it is aboveground, with an actual priest and actual wedding guests. For another, her son is in attendance. He, in fact, insisted on composing the first dance.

"No one else could do it justice, Maman," he said, with that slight gleam in his hazel eyes, and she bit back the longing to say that he sounded just like his father.

For a third different thing, she is already with child. Nadir and Sorelli are the only ones she has confided in, and she suspects that Nadir told Darius because Darius has taken to making her the peppermint tea that calms her stomach. This time she recognised the symptoms herself, and the doctor merely confirmed her suspicions. She will tell Raoul about the baby in a few weeks, towards the end of their honeymoon. She wants to enjoy that first time with him as if they were any other couple.

And Konstin. She will tell Konstin of his impending sibling when she and Raoul return. She will sit him down and tell him, and she knows, she knows, he will be happy for the news, but she cannot help the flicker of fear in her heart.

He was perfectly lovely about Raoul. Of course, they have been together for more than three years, so their decision to marry could not be a surprise to anyone. But still, Konstin smiled and congratulated her, then stood up and shook Raoul's hand and joked that perhaps he ought to start calling him father now, then added, softly, if it had to be any man…

Sometimes, she thinks he gets more like Erik every day, and not just with his height or his dark hair.

She discovered, very early on, that she could not call her son Erik. Erik might be his name, but Erik would always be his father to her, could never be him. So with Konstantin as his middle name she abbreviated it, and before he was a week old he was Konstin to everyone.

By the time she returns, he will be preparing to return to the Conservatoire for the next term. He entered at fifteen, and Philippe pulled some strings to ease his way. Konstin has not mentioned it to her, but she knows he wants his education out of the way and to have some time at the Garnier before his National Service comes up.

Philippe has promised him a commission.

Philippe is the one who told her.

"The Navy would never suit him," he said, in his usual forthright way, "but I will do what I can for him."

And she knows he will. Sorelli would kill him otherwise, before she or Raoul would ever get the chance.

The twins, of course, will enter the Navy. They are only six months younger than Konstin, and though he could not have siblings in his childhood they are both like brothers to him. Sorelli confided the secret of her own pregnancy in Christine when Konstin was only a few weeks old, before she ever told Philippe about it. And as soon as she did tell Philippe he insisted on marrying her, and though she knew she could not return to the stage after the twins if she agreed, she agreed anyway, and they have been happy together ever since.

As for Christine herself. Raoul proposed to her at the opening night of her last opera, right after a whirlwind of a perfect performance. And she agreed, knowing that after closing night she would never perform again. When closing night came, several weeks later, it was mingled happiness and pain. Happiness to marry Raoul, pain at leaving the stage that has been her home for so long. It was Nadir who gently prodded her back to the opera, when Konstin was a little more than two, and she has been grateful to him for it ever since. And that last night, as she stood on the stage and took her final bow and the orchestra played a piece of Erik's, the first that she had arranged to have performed on that stage after her return, as that music played she looked up at Box Five, knowing that her family was there. She could not see them through the lights and the tears in her eyes, but she knew they were all there. Konstin, Raoul, Nadir, Darius, Philippe and Sorelli. And Erik too, surely, in his own way, smiling benevolently and proud. She could almost see him behind her eyes…

The soft singing of the choir drifts to Christine through the crack in the door, wakes her from her thoughts. Five more minutes, until she will walk out and up that aisle to stand beside her future husband. It is not the first time she almost married Raoul, but this is closer than she got before, and this time she will go through with it.

This time there is no Erik for her to go back to, and the pain lances sharply beneath her ribs, sharper than it has been in such a long time. It has been more than sixteen years – almost seventeen, if she is being honest – since his death, and those years have dulled the pain though it has never gone away. She knows it never will go away, not fully, only soften more and more and sometimes she feels the ghost of his fingertips on the back of her hand, but that touch does not cut her the way it used to.

So many things do not cut her the way they used to.

Erik would be pleased, that at last she is marrying Raoul. She knows that. He directed her to, once, long ago before she ever returned to him. And if she had married Raoul then she would never have had Konstin, so it is for the best that she did not do it then. And now she will have both Raoul and her son, and this new baby, too, that lives beneath her heart.

She hopes it is a daughter. A daughter would be nice and she already has a son, but she will be happy either way.

For the last time as Christine Daaé, she turns and regards herself in the mirror. Sorelli helped her pin her hair, brushed on her make-up and smiled at her. And Konstin gave her a diamond bracelet, simply saying it was something old, and she does not know where it came from but she suspects.

She is certain Konstin has acquired it more legitimately than his father would have.

Three minutes. Three minutes until she opens the door, until she walks to stand beside her fiancé. He really has been remarkably patient with her. Any other man would have found another woman, but not Raoul.

She did not truly think he would.

She smiles at herself in the mirror, and nods. She is not the woman she would have been if she married Raoul all those years ago. She knows that. She is older, and infinitely wiser, and sometimes she thinks more broken, but all those old wounds are scars now. They cannot hurt her or anyone any more.

And she takes a breath, and takes the bouquet of roses, the first roses she has ever carried for Raoul and they will not be the last. And she knows she would not change a minute of what has happened, knows that if she were to make the choice again she would go back to Erik just the same.

She still got here, after all. She just came a longer way.

And she is happy with that.

A/N: Well, it is over. And about time too. It nearly a year, and in fact it is about a year ago that I drafted the first chapter. Back then it was only intended as a one-shot, but as you can see, that didn't exactly work out...

Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed, reviewed, and read. Your support means so much to me and has helped me through some rather difficult times. This is a 'verse that I would like to return to sometime, and I do have half an idea for a sequel that I might write someday. In the meantime, I'm going to work on some other things, namely another extended AU which is very different to this and - in general - much happier. Those of you who follow me on Tumblr are already familiar with it as the Composer AU, but I do plan to give it an actual name sometime soon.

Anyway, that's all for now. And for the last time, please do review!