Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, but The Phil is all mine.

Author's Note: Many thanks to my reviewers, and a special thank you to my wonderful editors Penmora Zenith and Musicallover for their outstanding help and suggestions on this chapter. The teamwork was incredible.

Chapter 36

The End

It was close to 6:00 when Amir arrived home, and he was deeply concerned for his best friend after just having seen him at Gaston's. He automatically assumed that something must have happened with Christine, for he couldn't imagine anything else reducing Erik to such a state. Perhaps he would go and see him later tonight or tomorrow morning to find out what had happened.

When Amir walked through his door, he could tell that something delicious was afoot. As he approached the kitchen through the dining room, Megan had prepared an elegant cocktail and brought it to him in a frosted glass before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him soundly, a proper welcome home after a hard day at work. He saw that she was barefoot and dressed in one of his dress shirts, and he assumed naught else. Her hair was up and had a few wisps attractively undone on the sides…he thought she looked incredibly sexy.

As Megan brought the serving dishes out onto the table, Amir went to the bedroom to change. When he returned, they took their seats at the table and he was pleased to see what Megan had prepared. Tonight's main course was linguini with white clam sauce, a green salad with homemade Italian vinaigrette dressing, baked bruchetta on slices of baguette, and a glass of Pinot Grigio. Simple but elegant. Definitely a keeper.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair with Amir even helping himself to seconds, but Megan knew that there was something weighing heavily on his mind.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked gently.

Amir looked up, again impressed by her insight. Most women took his moments of silence to mean that he was starting to tire of them, or was bored with their conversation, or any number of things having to do with them, but Megan was always aware of his emotional barometer and if he were well, and he loved that about her. He truly believed that she placed his well-being above her own. This was a new experience for him, but one that he deeply appreciated and frequently thought about…

"I saw Erik downstairs at Gaston's and he looked terrible. I think something's happened between him and Christine, but he wouldn't talk about it. Has Christine said anything to you?"

Megan was immediately concerned. "No, I haven't seen her since Christmas and I haven't heard from her. I'll call her later and see if she's all right."

Amir sighed. "I hope they're all right. I don't think he'll ever love anyone like this again."

He placed his hand over Megan's and gazed at her steadily. Nor will I he thought.

Christine was worried. Erik had never been late before, ever, and he hadn't even called to tell her when he'd be home. They hadn't made any plans for dinner, so she hadn't made anything. She'd even gone downstairs to see if he was still in the theater, but it was dark and empty. It was almost nine o'clock and she was about to call Megan when she heard the front door. She rushed out of the kitchen to greet him, but froze in her tracks when she saw him. His hair was a mess and his clothes were in disarray, yet it paled compared to the look in his eyes…icy, accusing, murderous…

"Erik?" Christine was in shock, she'd never seen him like this. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Erik closed the door and kept his eyes on her, but said nothing.

"Erik…what happened?" She hurried over and was about to put her arms around him, but he quickly brushed past her.

"I have to take a shower," he muttered as he strode to the bathroom.

Christine stood rooted to the spot as she watched him walk away. She didn't know what to think…

Christine was in the living room. She'd lit the fire in the fireplace and was standing with her arms wrapped around herself, just staring into the fire, waiting. She'd spent the day running errands and paying bills, taking care of Pinecone, and doing laundry. She came over exactly at seven and had expected Erik to be waiting for her, but she was surprised to find an empty house. She'd fed Anubis and then went over to the bookcase and grabbed a rather interesting book on utopias and read until Erik came home. It was almost 9:30 now and he was still in the shower.

She hadn't heard him come up behind her when he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against her hair.

"I love you so much, Christine," he whispered.

Christine closed her eyes and leaned back into him. "I love you." He smelled fresh and clean from his shower. She wondered if he was okay.

After a few moments, he spoke. "Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"How intimate were you with Roan?"

She opened her eyes, immediately startled out of her relaxed state to one of high alert, and she stiffened, her tone guarded. "I didn't sleep with him if that's what you're asking."

He snorted softly against her hair, and in an almost mocking tone, "No, that's not what I asked, but thanks for the information. What I asked was, how intimate were you with him?"

She straightened and tried to pull out of his arms, but he held her fast against him. "Let me go, Erik."

His arms were tight against her and he whispered roughly close to her ear, "Not until you tell me what I want to know, my love."

She didn't want to go into how Roan had almost made love to her that night, and it was something she'd tried to forget ever since. Christine tried to pull away, but he wouldn't loosen his hold. "Why do you need to know?" she asked warily. She was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.

"I have a right to know," he said softly. "I have the right because I love you."

She stopped struggling and turned her head toward him. "Oh, you mean like my right to know what's behind your mask because I love you? You mean that right?"

Erik released her then, the mocking tone gone. "You know very well that's not the same."

Christine rounded on him at this. "Oh, but I believe it is, my love. I believe I have as much right to know as you do. I want to see your face because I love you!"

Erik turned and advanced toward her. "But you didn't answer my question, Christine. How intimate you were with him? Or do you not want to tell me because you're ashamed of what you've done with him? Tell me, would he eat you before he fucked you, my love? Did you suck his cock and then swallow when he came in your mouth?"

Christine was shocked. "What are you talking about? Are you drunk?"

Erik laughed madly as he backed her to the wall and continued his tirade. "Oh no, my love, I unfortunately am not drunk! I only wish I were! Tell me, my philandering slut, can I fuck you in your ass as well? Since Mr. Richards says he's already been there, I'm sure his tiny cock has stretched you sufficiently to accommodate me!"

Christine gasped and instinctively lashed out, slapping him viciously and whipping his head to the right, causing his hair to fall across his face. Everything seemed to quiet instantly except for the sound of his mask flying across the living room and skidding across the floor.

Erik's face was still turned from her, his hair still over his face. Christine couldn't see anything.

"I…I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to do that..."

But slowly, ever so slowly, he began to laugh…gently at first, and then louder, until he was standing upright in profile and laughing madly so that she could only see the left side of his face.

"Erik…?" He has to be drunk, he's never been like this before.

When his laughter died, he suddenly grabbed her and turned her around so that her back was to him, and he held her tightly. His shoulders began to shake, and she could tell that he was crying.

"Oh, Christine," he murmured, "there is no life for me without you." He brushed her hair from the side of her face and placed a lingering kiss upon her temple.

His heart cleanly broken, there was nothing left to do. Summoning his resolve, he whispered softly, "Go back to your boy, Christine." He released her then and walked over to his mask and picked it up.

"Erik..."

He turned to face her, his mask still in his hands, but he was backlit so that his face was in darkness.

Christine was stunned. "Erik, what do you mean? You're the one I love…I'm not going anywhere! I didn't do anything wrong! Let's talk about this…!"

But he was done, it was over, and he turned and walked to his studio, closing the door. Christine heard the lock being turned, and soon began to hear him playing his piano loudly, an angry, tempestuous sound.

NO!... NO! Christine could feel panic building. She ran up to the studio door and tried the doorknob, but it was locked. She automatically began pulling and turning it, and when it wouldn't open, began pounding on the door and cried, "Erik! Erik! Open the door! Please! You can't do this! I haven't done anything! Erik, please, I love you!" She was quickly approaching hysteria, but she couldn't stop. She was crying and screaming and out of control. "Erik! Please! I didn't do anything! Why won't you believe me? I love you! You can't just leave me! You CAN'T!"

He could hear her screams and cries as she tried to tear down the door. He was crying, too, and placed his hands over his ears because he couldn't stand to hear her anguish any longer. He had to get away, so he let himself out through a secret door in a far corner of the studio and was in his Ferrari on his way to oblivion before she even realized he was gone.

Christine was crumpled on the floor against Erik's studio door. She was still crying and didn't know how long she'd been there, but she knew he wasn't there any longer. Her feeling of desolation was overwhelming…she was completely alone. She closed her eyes tightly as though to hold back reality and the hysteria that lay just beneath a surface of calm. Why? Why did he do this? Why did he leave? I didn't do anything…I didn't do anything…

Roan! He's responsible for this! She would have gone over to see him immediately if she knew where he lived, but she'd never been to his apartment. But perhaps he could be online, and then maybe she could get some answers.

But first, she had to take something of Erik's before she left, something that would forever be a reminder to her of him. She felt weak and shaky as she stood, and she walked unsteadily into his bedroom. She looked around, and her eyes fell upon the erotic figurines. There were two sets, so she took one of them. She wrapped them carefully in Kleenix as her mind wandered back to the day he'd purchased them from her. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

She took one last look around the bedroom and in his walk-in closet to look at the photograph he'd taken of her in the mask. She went over to the bed, gazed lovingly at it and laid down upon it, feeling the bedspread and remembering the smell of the pillow casings. She closed her eyes momentarily, reliving the first time Erik had made love to her in this bed, and then the time they returned from Paladin's, and then all the times after… She got up, her face tear-streaked, and retrieved her purse and everything else that was hers from the apartment…clothes, cosmetics…and then she stepped into the elevator that would take her down to the car condo where here car was parked. This would be the last time she would look upon this wonderful apartment that was her second home for two months…and the dark prince that lived within. She pressed the down button and the elevator doors closed for the last time.

He was on his laptop again, crunching numbers in bed so he'd be prepared for tomorrow's meeting. He really didn't mind bringing work home like this because the more he got done at home, the more time he'd have when it was done. And unless there was a major event like the Bal Masque or the Christmas Gala coming up, his weekends were usually free. He'd even had time to send an email to his dad, which he knew he appreciated, especially when so many sons and daughters of their friends all but ignored their families once they'd move out to make their way in the world. But he loved his family deeply and tried to keep in touch with them when he could.

When he finished his work, he turned to the online news and read the headlines, but found that he was too tired to read the stories. He was about to turn off his laptop when an IM window suddenly appeared.

AriaMaven: Roan, are you there?

Roan was surprised to be receiving an IM from Christine since she'd never instant messaged him before.

SeraphM: Hello, and to what do I owe the pleasure of this IM?

AriaMaven: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TELL ERIK?

Roan hesitated as a slow smile appeared on his lips.

SeraphM: What do you mean?

AriaMaven: I want to know exactly what you told Erik about us!

SeraphM: Actually, I've never really spoken to him. Ever.

Christine stared at the screen, stunned by this wholly unexpected response.

SeraphM: Christine, are you there?

AriaMaven: He said that you talked to him.

SeraphM: About what? What's this about?

That sure didn't take long he thought.

AriaMaven: He said you told him things about us, about you and me. But if you say you haven't talked to him, then why would he say that?

Roan smiled as he typed his response.

SeraphM: We talked about this before, babe, but you weren't very receptive then.

AriaMaven: Then tell me now.

SeraphM: I told you before that he was with Joanna, but I also know that she gave him a blow job before he came to see you. I don't know why he'd tell you he spoke with me, but I think he's been trying to play the both of you.

Christine's tears started anew.

AriaMaven: But why? He said he loved me.

SeraphM: He kissed another woman right in front of you. Is it so hard to believe he'd accept a free blow job when you guys were broken up?

Christine was confused, nothing made sense. If Erik didn't talk to Roan, why would he say that Roan had told him those terrible things? Why would he make up a lie like that? And why would he be getting a blow job from Joanna! Ms. Diamond Diva!

AriaMaven: But that doesn't make sense. Why would he accuse me of doing something I didn't?

SeraphM: Jealousy causes people to do crazy things.

AriaMaven: What do you mean?

SeraphM: Were you with him when you opened my Christmas present?

AriaMaven: The locket. Yes, thank you, I loved it.

SeraphM: What did he think of it?

AriaMaven: He didn't really say anything, just that it was nice.

SeraphM: Did he ever strike you as being the jealous type?

AriaMaven: I never thought about it, it never came up.

SeraphM: As a man, I can guarantee that he's very jealous.

AriaMaven: But why would he just leave instead of talking to me first?

SeraphM: Because he's most likely also a very emotional and passionate man. He probably feels he already knows enough to warrant leaving.

AriaMaven: But how could he know about us? If you didn't talk to him, and I certainly didn't say anything, then how could he suspect anything? For all I know, how do I know that you're not lying to me?

SeraphM: Why would I do that? I've always wanted the best for you, not to be in a situation that causes you so much pain.

AriaMaven: Roan, you've already proven that you wanted to get me in bed. What if you'd made this all up so I'd break up with Erik and start dating you?

SeraphM: That's really low, Christine. What have I ever done to make you think I could be so conniving?

AriaMaven: How about that time you tried to get into my pants?

SeraphM: I tried, but I stopped when you made it clear that you didn't want me to go any further.

Christine thought about this. It was true that he could have taken her that night, and she wouldn't have been able to stop him because she'd wanted him so badly, yet he'd stopped himself with more strength than she had.

SeraphM: Christine, a jealous individual is capable of lying and making up something to suit their needs. It's possible this just gave him an excuse to be with Joanna.

Christine felt a stab of pain at this suggestion.

AriaMaven: No, that's not possible. We just spent a wonderful Christmas together and we've had a wonderful time together since then. He told me he loved me, and I know he did. When he came home tonight, he was different, like something happened between this morning and by the time he got home. If he wanted Joanna, he could have stayed with her that night instead of coming back to me. None of this makes sense.

SeraphM: Christine, I know you want to think the best of him, but I've seen some unbelievable behavior from both men and woman over the years. Believe me, things like this happen all the time.

AriaMaven: No, I know he loves me. Something must have happened and he couldn't tell me.

SeraphM: Christine, I'll only say this once – Erik isn't the one who loves you, and one of these days you're going to see that I'm right.

Erik was numb, his thoughts chaotic. He was alone again…completely alone. It's strange, but I don't feel anything right now. No sadness, no pain…. But he knew the pain would come soon enough, for he'd felt it enough times in his past to know its pattern by heart. By tomorrow, or maybe even later tonight if he should awake in the middle of the night, he would begin to feel the crushing pain that always accompanied such disappointments. It would be a darkness so black and unyielding that he would stay in bed for days. And when he'd finally leave his bed, it would be days before he would leave his home. And all the while he'd be under a cloud of gloom so vast and deep that it would seem endless.

But it wouldn't take him tonight…no, tonight he would sleep and he would feel wonderful. There would be no pain tonight.

It was close to 11:00 when he returned to the Phil. He parked his car in the car condo and was glad to see that Christine's car was gone. It had been unbearable to hear her pounding on the door and crying hysterically out to him, and he'd had to leave when he could no longer stand it. His first impulse had been to throw open the door and take her in his arms…but he couldn't.

As he made his way to the elevator back up to his apartment, he thought about her last words. "I didn't do anything!" He wondered how she could tell such an obvious lie? How could Roan know about her being shaved if he hadn't seen it for himself, and their arguments over his mask, and even about Joanna! He would never have believed her capable of such treachery…but it was his own fault for thinking anyone could love him exclusively for himself when he hid half his face from them. He kept his face secret from her, and she apparently kept secrets from him as well… Of course, why wouldn't she? asked his conscience.

When he stepped into the apartment, he immediately noticed the coldness. The warmth that was Christine was no more, and he knew that it was because she was gone and had taken her things with her. He walked past the studio and realized he'd have to unlock the door, but was pained as he looked upon it, realizing the panicked frenzy with which she had tried to break it down in order to get to him. The door was covered with marks, evidence of her desperation. He walked to the bathroom and opened the drawers and medicine cabinet. All of her things had been removed. He then walked into his bedroom and looked in the dresser drawers and saw that she'd taken her clothes, too.

When he walked over to the bed he noticed the bedspread was shifted slightly and that there was an indentation in the pillow. Christine laid in the bed before she left. He again felt the pain in his heart at this knowing, but he stretched out his hand to feel the areas of the bedspread where she'd lain. He closed his eyes as he did this, somehow feeling closer to her by touching the spread where she'd been just hours ago. He laid himself down on the same spot, laying his head where hers had been, and could swear he could smell the fragrance of her hair in the pillow.

It was then that he realized that he hurt, all over. Not just his heart, but his entire body, right down to his fingertips and toes. The pain he had been expecting had started already. He took off his shoes and jacket and hung it up, and then took off his shirt. He was going to get ready for bed and got undressed.

He looked over at his bookcase and saw his beloved music boxes and erotic figurines…but there was only one set of them. He got up and looked at them, realizing that Christine must have taken the other set. She had taken the one of the couple in the missionary position, while the one he had now was where they were copulating doggy style. This reminded him powerfully of the terrible words he'd spouted to her in the heat of their argument…he couldn't blame her for leaving this set of figurines for him.

He began to realize then that he'd have some housecleaning to do since so many things reminded him of Christine. And next to the figurines was the music box she'd given him…another item to put away…and next to that was the music box from Persia with the bronze palm tree on the lid. He retrieved it now and walked into the bathroom as he looked at it and set it on the counter. It was one of the few things he'd kept of his possessions from that time for it had been a gift from the Shah's beautiful young daughter. He'd had it all this time and hadn't needed to use the items within that he'd kept for just such an emergency as now. He actually wished he didn't have to use it, but that was really a foregone conclusion because he knew that what he was feeling now would be crushing by morning if he didn't. No, the pain wouldn't take him yet. He would hold it off for as long as he could. He knew he'd have to deal with it sooner or later, but much better later than sooner.

He opened the lid and looked at its contents. Everything was as he'd left it so many years ago, untouched, but ready when needed. He knew exactly how much he needed because he'd been drinking tonight, and that made a difference compared to when he was sober. He took out a thin rubber tie and the bottle of solution, breaking open the cap and setting it aside. He fitted the syringe with a sterile needle and drew out the amount he needed, squirting it slightly to get out the air bubbles. He expertly tied the length of rubber around his upper arm to make his veins appear more prominent, and he soon found one, a familiar one. He made a fist and took the syringe in his hand, placing it against his vein and had a passing thought: It'll all be better in the morning.

He plunged the needle into his vein and depressed the syringe. He felt the initial burning at the point of entry, but then closed his eyes as he quickly began to feel the familiar euphoria overtake his senses. Yes…it's wonderful…everything now is wonderful. No pain…no pain…

When he knew the syringe was empty, he withdrew it from his arm and placed it back on the counter along with the rubber tie. It had been so long since he'd felt this way, floating, pain free….he felt great. He decided he'd go to sleep now, so he headed for the bedroom slowly, trailing his hand along the wall for support. He wasn't really seeing where he was going because he was so woozy and was relying on memory to get him to his destination. He knew he was almost there and let go of the wall, reaching out for the bed, but it wasn't where it was supposed to be. He was unconscious even before he hit the floor.