Christine awakes the morning of her wedding with butterflies in her stomach. How she managed any sleep that night she has no idea. Her last day before she is a wedded woman! Mere hours are left now.

Meg arrives just after breakfast and she greets her with a tight hug. She is so glad her best friend is here to share this day with her. Christine thinks back to Meg's wedding, where she sang at the reception. It's a beautiful memory, but one that's tinged with a little sadness now too.

Meg helps her apply her makeup and pin her curls up into an elaborate style.

"Just think -" Meg sighs dreamily. "You're going to be Madame Phantom."

Christine giggles. "I don't think that's how it works, Meg."

Meg frowns in concentration as a unruly curl won't stay down.

"You're right." she pauses in thought. "You'll be Madame de L'Opéra. Phantom is clearly his first name."

Christine fears her makeup is going to run is her friend keeps this up - she's laughing so hard that her eyes are already watering and the day has barely begun.

"But really, what is your new last name going to be?"

"I'm keeping it as Daae. Erik doesn't really have a last name. He's had aliases, but none are actually his family name."

Meg gives an understanding nod.

"Well then, I think there is only one solution."

Their eyes meet in mirror, Christine curious as to what her friend will say.

"Obviously, he will have to become Erik Daae."

Christine gives a snort of laughter at this thought and the serious way that Meg states it, but she must admit that she is not at all opposed to the concept.

Madame Giry is busy decorating her office for the reception. She's procured dozen upon dozens of flowers which she tucks into every nook and corner or the room, giving the appearance of being inside a garden. It's a shame, she thinks, that her office has no windows to let any natural light in, but they will make due with what they have. She sighs happily as she goes about her task. Christine's happiness has been infectious. When she had to cut her tour short, Giry had known that perhaps one day her former ward's sadness would lift but she had not imagined that such joy was so close in her future, or was to be found in this particular scenario. She hopes that such joy will continue for everyone involved.

Nadir rows the gondola to the shore, finding Erik pacing back forth before the fireplace. The man is nearly in a full blown panic because his fingers have seemingly forgotten how to tie his cravat.

"Sit down, Erik." Nadir puts a hand on his shoulder.

Erik sits obediently, and Nadir raises an eyebrow at this. Surely a sign of his nerves, that the man complied without a retort of any kind. He smiles kindly at him.

"Lift your head."

Nadir wraps the silk around his neck, tying it in the style he knows Erik is fond of, and pinning it in place with the jeweled stick Erik hands him.

Erik has come so far to be where he is today, and his friend could not be prouder of him. To marry Christine - such an event surely could never have taken place if he had stayed as he was all those years ago when he had pulled her off the stage during Don Juan Triumphant and threatened the Vicomte's life. But Erik had worked hard at change, and not because he thought there was a reward at the end, not because he thought he could win Christine back, but he changed for the sake of changing, to be better for the sake of being better because it was the right thing to do. That made this day all the more sweet, Nadir thought, that there were second chances after all even when they weren't expected.

He finishes with the cravat and pats him on the shoulder again.

"Thank you, Nadir." Erik says softly, looking down.

Nadir knows he isn't just talking about the cravat.

"What else are friends for?"

Erik wonders to himself where he would be without Nadir's patient guidance, however needling it could be at times. Who knows what treachery his own poisonous mind would have whispered to him after the big fiasco if he had stayed in his solitude. But Nadir had been there to listen to every last mortifying word, every shameful secret and private thought, and he was immensely grateful for it now even if he hadn't always been so at the time. He almost hadn't reached out to him in such a way, very nearly leaving off their conversation after the first note to let him know that he still lived. But surely Nadir had done something right, had some secret knowledge about love, Erik had figured, to hear him talk about him and his wife who were apparently quite happy together. So he had asked him, and he didn't always like the answers, but he had to admit that the man generally knew what he was talking about. Surely, Erik would not be mere steps away from wedded bliss if he hadn't.

Christine's heart is pounding as Meg finishes tying her corset. Her fingers are trembling as she adjusts the sleeves of her gown, and Meg grins at her in the mirror as she does up the numerous buttons on the back of it.

"You look beautiful, Christine, like a dream come true. Are you ready?"

Christine does not feel ready - suddenly the sheer enormity of the day has crashed down upon her. But she reminds herself who it is waiting for her down in the chapel - surely they've been through enough together to not feel nervous about this. But she can't help how she feels.

"Oh, Meg! You're the best friend I could have asked for, you know?" she wraps her arms her in a tight embrace, careful not to smudge her makeup. "I feel so silly right now, I can't stop shaking!"

"It's alright, Christine!" Meg laughs. "You'll be fine, love. There's nothing to be frightened of!"

Christine takes as deep a breath as she can with the corset, and nods at her friend's words.

She turns to face the doorway.

"I'm ready."

Nadir is certain the man is going to dissolve into a puddle of nerves at any moment.

"I'll row, Erik." he offers as they step into the boat.

He doesn't trust that Erik will not accidentally tip the whole boat over in his current state.

He nods impatiently and hands the oar to Nadir.

The trip seems to stretch on forever. Nadir is purposely drawing it out, Erik is sure of it - it's never taken this long before! He looks down at his legs. Will this blasted pins-and-needles feeling ever go away? How dare his body betray him at such a crucial moment! He feels unusually irritable - even the patches of moss on the stone walls find a way to annoy him.

The boat ride finally ends and as they walk down the corridor leading to the chapel his annoyance goes away and leaves only what it was masking - sheer terror. He doesn't know how to be a husband! He barely knows how to be a person! The floor is suddenly tilting terribly and he has to lean against the wall for support. He's about to faint - no, scratch that - he's about to die! He's going to die and leave poor Christine a widow before they're even married!

"Erik? Do you need a moment?" Nadir's concerned voice reaches through his haze. "Take a deep breath - you'll be ok. Let this feeling pass, don't fight it."

Erik nods dumbly. He attempts to let the tension in his shoulders fall away - a difficult task, considering he's certain he's about to fall through the floor. But he doesn't faint, and he certainly doesn't die, and the room seems to spin a little less. Nadir is holding on to his arm and instructing him to breath.

The feeling does pass soon after he lets it flood through him and ceases to struggle against it. In its wake he realizes they've been standing there for some time - nearly fifteen minutes, if not more.

"Were going to be late." he grits out, suddenly ashamed of his fit.

"There is no rush, we have plenty of time."

Nadir makes him stand there until he's certain that he's back to normal.

"Are you all right?"

Erik nods.

They continue to the chapel, residual panic still coursing through his veins but his head is much clearer now.

Inside, Giry is talking to the priest. They both stop and look the new arrivals.

"Hello Erik." Giry smiles at him. "And you must be Nadir."

Erik gives a brief nod and Nadir extends his hand to Giry. All the terror has left Erik, leaving its place only an intense shyness.

"You must be the excellent Madame Giry - and I must thank you for delivering all of our letters these past years."

The two chat for a few moments and Erik lets his eyes travel over to the priest.

The man is young - possibly younger than Erik, even. He has a serene smile on his face, and said smile only widens as he makes eye contact with Erik.

Erik snaps his eyes to the blank wall, hoping dearly that he won't have to make small talk with the man. That smile seems sincere but he finds it disconcerting, all the same. Thankfully the man does not press the issue.

The trembling has left her fingers, so Christine assumes the worst is over. She takes long strides down the hallways, the click of her heels on the marble floor resounding off of the walls. She quickens her pace until Meg is practically jogging to keep up. She feels fine! She feels great! Everything is wonderf-

She stops in her tracks, doubling over and gagging. She's terribly thankful that she didn't have much of an appetite that morning or else this situation would be twice as mortifying.

"Christine!" worry creases Meg's face as she stoops by her side.

"Meg..." she wipes gently at her lips, her voice wavering. "Did I smudge my lipstick?"

Meg's worry gives way to a small smile.

"No, Christine - you still look beautiful."

"You're sure I don't look like I just retched up all the scant saliva my dry mouth could produce?" she raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'm sure Erik will still think you lovely no matter how much you retch."

"Meg!"

Their laughter echoes through the halls. She takes a more reasonable pace, and prays that there won't be a repeat performance of that little saga once she gets to the altar.

Their small talk - of which Erik was stubbornly absent - has faded away, and they all stand in their places in the chapel. All that's left to do is wait. Giry and Nadir are smiling, the priest is smiling and looking at Erik, and Erik is pointedly avoiding acknowledging his gaze. He wonders what, exactly, Christine had told the man about him.

Her steps slow to almost a halt as she approaches the door to the chapel. She's been here so, so many times before. But this time is different. She lets her eyes wander reverently over the etchings on the doorframe, savouring this moment, committing it to memory. Meg squeezes her hand. This is it. She pushes the door open.

All eyes move to the door at the sound of it opening.

Giry sheds a tear or two despite her best efforts.

Everything else fades into nothingness for Erik - there is nothing left but Christine. Not the sound of his own heart in his ears, not his uncertainty of what to do with his hands, not the unnerving grin on the priest's face - utterly nothing. She truly looks like an angel, there is simply no other way to describe her. Her white dress that hangs off of her shoulders just so, the gauzy veil attached to her pinned up hair, that soft look on her face as she fixes her eyes on him - he almost cannot stand it.

Christine is vaguely aware of the other people in the room, that there's a Persian man she's never met before standing next to Erik, that the priest is grinning at them all, that Giry is here and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, that Meg is still by her side as she walks down the isle. But she only has eyes for Erik - her Erik, standing there at the altar, waiting for her, his bright eyes trained on her and her alone - how could she have ever been nervous about this? Her heart flutters in her chest.

Time must have passed even though it didn't feel like it, because now they're both standing face to face and the priest is beginning.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God-"

It might not be such a terrible thing after all, Erik thinks, to be in the sight of the kind of God that could create Christine.

They each manage to say their vows without faltering or passing out or gagging, and they exchange the rings. It's like moving through a cloud, almost, Christine thinks. Everything feels so perfect she almost wonders if she's dreaming.

Then comes the prompt for the bride to be kissed.

Christine tilts her face up and Erik stoops down and pauses only for a second before complying. It's a soft and reverent touch - and just like that, they were husband and wife. Right here in very same place that they first met.

Erik had never imagined such an outcome could possibly happen when he had sought to comfort the crying child he found all those many years ago - he certainly hadn't intended it at the time. It was one of his few acts of kindness that hadn't backfired spectacularly, as was often the case, although he would have thought otherwise a handful of years ago.

Christine knew her life would be forever changed when she first heard the voice of the Angel of Music, but this was the very last way she would have guessed.

Still, though, this was where their paths had led them, and it wasn't always smooth or ideal, but they were here and nothing else mattered.

The priest is concluding the ceremony and Christine feels the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. Erik lets one hand drift up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek and wiping away the tears there.

They hear the priest giving his congratulations as if from a great distance, and in the same haze they're dimly aware of shaking his hand.

The dreamlike fog begins to lift, however, by the time they're all sitting in Giry's office.

Nadir has brought a camera to capture some images of the happy day, promising that he shall develop the photographs himself and present the copies to them as a gift. He had already taken a few inside the chapel, and now he has them stand next to the cake and takes another. Christine wants one of them together on the couch which is surrounded by flowers, so Erik indulges her. He sits down to the left of her, wraps her in an embrace, and buries the masked side of his face in her hair before Nadir snaps the photo. Perhaps, Erik thinks, they can have at least one photograph in which he almost looks to be a normal man.

"It was a lovely wedding." Meg sighs as she sits on the other side of Erik. "I'm so happy for you two."

She glances over at the man next to her. It was a thrilling thought to be sitting there next to the elusive Phantom. She wasn't certain what, exactly, was behind his mask, but she still thought he was awfully handsome. She had always delighted to hear stories about him back when she was dancer at the Opera House, and the fact that she knew her own mother had some shadowy connection to him was quite a source of pride for her at those times. And now her best friend was actually married to him! Christine was so lucky, Meg found it all terribly romantic - imagine marrying such a figure right out of legends!

"I'm so glad you could be here, Meg." Christine beams at her before glancing over at Nadir. "And it's lovely to finally meet you, too, Nadir. How do you know Erik?"

Erik feels a chill settle across the room and he catches Nadir's eye. There's a small pause as Nadir glances between Erik and Christine. It was such an ordinary question, and asked so innocently. But nothing about Erik's past was ordinary or innocent.

Nadir gives a small smile.

"We met in Persia." he supplies.

"Oh- oh!" Christine is flustered when she realizes the implication, and regrets asking.

She wonders if perhaps he was - still is? - also an assassin, if that's how the two of them met.

"Nadir was the chief of police - the Daroga, under the shah in Persia at the time we met." Erik fills in.

Christine nods at this information. The room is still a little tense - she hadn't meant to dredge up the long buried past like that. Giry is silent as she looks at the floor - she doesn't like to be reminded of that chapter in Erik's life, either. Only Meg is unaware of the unspoken implications, unknowing of what Persia means to them all. She glances around at the faces in the room, at the way Christine has gone still in Erik's arms, at the nervous way he looks at his bride as she stares at the police chief who's giving her a smile tinged with sadness, at how her mother refuses to meet anyone's eye. Clearly, Persia must not a good subject here but she can't begin to fathom why. She takes another bite of cake and frowns, because the room seems to call for frowning but quite frankly all times call for cake.

"He's been a very good friend to me all these years. At least most of the time, that is." he raises an eyebrow and smirks. "The rest of the time he's insufferably annoying."

This earns a hearty laugh from Nadir. Christine follows suit with a giggle. The tension is broken and the conversation turns lighter.

As the afternoon marches on Christine marvels at how well this little group gets along. Even though Nadir only knew Erik, and Meg had only briefly met Erik once or twice before, it only took a short time before they were talking and laughing as though they known each other forever. Perhaps, she thought, it was the shared secret of Erik's existence that helped the camaraderie flow so easily.

Before the party is over, Nadir sets up a small contraption on his camera that allows him to manage to take a group photo with him in it as well.

"This has been a truly splendid day, thank you for inviting me, Erik. May your love be blessed and endless." he pulls Erik into a hug which the other man returns only somewhat awkwardly.

He gives a deep bow to Giry and her daughter, and turns to bow to Christine as well but before he can get the chance she throws her arms around him in a hug.

She doesn't know very much about what happened in Persia, or the circumstances of how they became friends, or what they write to each in those terribly long letters that she accidentally found in Erik's home one day, but she does know without a doubt that this man is clearly important to Erik and that without him her husband would have been truly alone for so long.

He takes his leave with the promise that he'll be by more often, a prospect they all look forward too, even Erik.

Giry is the next to receive a hug from Christine, and many thanks both for decorating the room and everything else - Christine knows that without her benevolent meddling things might have gone so differently for her.

She says her farewells to her friend last of all.

"This was the best wedding I've ever been invited to, Christine." she tells her. "I'll come to see you when I can get away again, but if that's not a for while then you simply must come up to the manor and see us! I've missed you so."

Meg glances up at Erik before darting her eyes back to Christine, a wickedly mirthful grin forming on her face.

"But of course, don't worry if you can't find the time to visit too soon - I'm sure you two are going are going to find much of your time is otherwise occupied for quite a long while!"

Christine swats her hand at her friend, her face turning red.

Erik pointedly looks away, trying very hard to pretend as though he hadn't heard those words.

He clears his throat and gives a small bow to Giry and her daughter.

"Thank you both for being here with us on this day." he says smoothly. "It was a honor to have you. Thank you, also, for your continued kindness to Christine... and to myself."

For one moment Erik realizes where Meg gets that wicked smirk from, and the next moment he realizes the Giry is fact hugging him. Christine has to stifle a giggle, doubly so when Meg suddenly follows her mother's suit. To hug an Opera Ghost is not something Meg would willingly pass up. He seems a little flustered by it all, but maintains his composure on the whole. What an odd day it's been, he thinks to himself.