Last chapter!

As always, ending a fic is bittersweet. But knowing how much you all enjoyed it makes it worth it. Thank you for going on this journey with me!

Enjoy! And if you haven't already done so, check out my WIP "A Flame Among Shadows", the sequel to my completed fic, "A Rose Among Thorns". I have really big plans for that one.

Thank you for reading along!

Chapter 55

Christine

I wanted to go and see Erik that evening.

I'd told him as much before we even parted ways; we were going a separate direction so that Madame and I could fetch Meg.

But he'd refused. He told me to take time away from him, to spend a few days with my family instead. That they needed me more than he did. That I needed them just as much - certainly more than I needed him.

Wanting to protest, but knowing he was right, and yes indeed wishing to spend as much time as I could with Madame and Meg, I said all right. That I'd come to see him in four days' time. He hadn't responded to this. He'd merely walked away, back to the Opera House - but not before Buquet made a bargain with him that he'd stay quiet in exchange for a cut of the managers' salary. Erik, taking no chances, gritted his teeth and reluctantly agreed.

I spent those days never leaving Madame's or Meg's side. We didn't go back to the theatre at all - Madame and Meg, naturally, wanted a leave of absence, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to go back at all. Andre - now the sole, albeit extremely shocked, manager of the theatre - said to take as long as they needed, that their absence would be completely paid for, for as long as they needed.

In the time I spent away from Erik, I learned that St. Juste had been released back into society, but that he'd elected not to return to his previous position. He'd taken a job at a theatre in Avignon instead - the Opera d'Avignon. I wished him well, and hoped he found happiness there. Now that I knew he hadn't at all harmed Isabelle, I couldn't imagine the pain he felt at not only losing the girl he pined after, but being blamed for her death as well.

I wondered, too, at Firmin's choice to pin her death on St. Juste, if the former manager truly felt so angry at Isabelle for turning the stagehand down. But maybe Firmin simply hated Isabelle more than he felt sorry for St. Juste.

What had happened to Firmin to make him that way? I had no idea. I didn't want to know, I think.

The hotel, as soon as it was thoroughly combed for any more evidence or trace of victims, was torn down. Paris didn't want a murder hotel in its midst.

I found it therapeutic - all that suffering, turned to dust.

It seemed everyone's suffering had ended.

Except.

I knew my way, now, to the lake. I still had the key to the theatre that Madame had given me, and I still had the key to the mirror from Erik.

I came early in the morning, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon and barely anyone was awake. Erik, though, was bound to be awake. I went through the theatre, toward the dressing room.

Only to run into Jules at the room's door.

We both gave a deep gasp of surprise. His back stiffened, and my hand flew to my chest. When we recognized the other, however, we both visibly relaxed.

He raised a brow. "Scaring me on the way to Erik's house," he said. "Isn't this how we met, Mlle. Daae?"

"As though you didn't scare me just as badly," I retorted.

He looked hard at me. "I don't think much scares you."

"Actually," I said, "a lot does." Losing my family. Losing Erik. Being alone. More frightened me than I cared to admit.

"Then you do a good job at being brave in the face of that fear." And, to my surprise, he smiled. "I went to have morning coffee with him - he requested it. Before you arrived in his life, I couldn't imagine him making that request." He gave a small bow of his head. "Enjoy your visit, Christine."

I was too stunned to say thank you. But he didn't wait for it. He merely walked on past me.

I'd never rung the bell before. There was a first time for everything.

Five minutes later, and Erik was docking his boat. He hadn't met my gaze when the boat had come into view, and he wasn't meeting my gaze now.

"Good morning, Christine," he said curtly. "Are the four days up, then?"

"They are." I gave him a smile he didn't look up to see. "It's good to see you again. I missed you."

Silence.

"Did you not miss me?"

He sighed. "Christine..."

"What?" I demanded, walking forward. "Why aren't you looking at me? What have I done to...offend you?"

His gaze lifted to me, finally. But not because he wanted to - just so he could say that he wasn't avoiding my stare. "Nothing," he said. "You've done nothing to offend me. But I think I've done something to offend you."

It didn't take me long to figure out what. "Your face."

He frowned.

"Erik, I don't-" I took another step forward. "Yes. It shocked me. I'm sorry it did. But I already...Buquet's stories, and you already told me..." I blew out a breath. "I already told you I fancy you. A few facial features aren't going to change that."

His eyes softened. "It doesn't bother you."

"No." I continued stepping forward, so that I could reach out for his hands and take them. "I could care less."

He smiled then, that pure happiness returning to his eyes. The emotion that made my own heart soar in my chest. "Does Madame Giry know you're here."

"She does. She wasn't too keen on me coming without a chaperone, but since you did attempt to keep me from a killer for weeks, and since you are the Angel she thought she was talking to, she let it slide. She trusts you. Besides, I think she knows that I would have gone regardless - and she couldn't have stopped me. Better to think I'm going due to her permission rather than of my own insolence." He laughed, and I gave a coy smile. "I told her about the Ballet Wraith too. She enjoyed that."

His grip on my hands tightened. "I enjoy it too."

"Good." A beat, and then I reached a hand up to his face. "My I?"

He breathed in deep. "Christine-"

"I've already seen it. But it would be nice to look at your face. Unmasked."

A pause. "Do as you wish." He tore his eyes from mine, making them stare at the ground to my right.

I removed the mask.

And there it was.

It really had been a shock - his gaunt, skeletal features were so unnatural, so eerie in the dark. But now, all I saw was Erik. Erik as he was. Erik, trusting me to not turn my back on him in his vulnerability.

Overcome with sudden emotion, I leaned up and kissed his cheek.

His answering cry was not what I expected. But his eyes were wide and lips parted as he took me in - it wasn't an angry expression. No, it was disbelieving. Joyously surprised.

I smiled, and he placed a hand on my cheek. "I don't just fancy you, Christine." His face became severe. "I am in love with you."

I'd pictured what it would be like to hear those words from a man - but it had never been a pleasant thought. I hadn't ever thought myself able to open up enough to say those words back.

But this was Erik. This was different - with him, I was so different.

"I love you, too," I said, and meant it.

And there among the shadows beneath the theatre, next to the lake that rested still as death, unbeknownst to the rest of Paris that slowly rose from their beds above, the Ballet Wraith kissed the Phantom of the Opera.

I thought I heard music play in the silent air around us, but perhaps it was only the unadulterated delight I felt when the Phantom kissed the Wraith back.

Fin