Thanks again for the wonderful reviews. If I get enough requests, I may write an epilogue...if not, then this is it. I've decided not to address how Madame Giry managed to rescue Madeline and Meg...I prefer to leave some things to the imagination.
I hope I've given Erik and Christine the ending everyone was hoping for. I must say, I'd much rather have the story end this way than the way it did in the movie/play/book!
Thanks for all your support, and feel free to IM/email me any time.
-Nico
Although she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the descent to Madame Giry's private quarters felt as if it took Christine eons.
Both she and Erik were breathless as the reached the heavy oak door that separated them from their daughter.
Christine laid a trembling hand on the doorknob, as if afraid turning it would reveal an empty room once more.
She turned to Erik, who could read her thoughts without words being spoken. He rested his large hand over hers and turned the knob, opening the door slowly.
Madeline was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, draped in various costumes and smeared with bright stage makeup.
"Mama! Papa!" She shrieked, running at them in full force. Christine caught her, falling to the ground as she wept, happily embracing her child.
"My darling, my love!" Christine repeated, showering Madeline's face with kisses.
Erik knelt next to his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder, patiently waiting for Madeline to jump into his arms.
When she did, she nearly knocked him over.
"Maddy," Erik breathed, unable to stop the tears that began to creep from his tired eyes. "Are you alright?" He asked, holding Madeline at arms' length.
Madeline nodded enthusiastically. "The bad man took me away," she said, scowling. "He is very angry and you and Mama."
Erik and Christine exchanged a glance.
"He had a pretty house, but the food was disgusting," she continued. "Meg ate it, but I told him that I thought it was yucky."
Erik chuckled.
"Did he hurt you, Madeline," Christine asked, pulling her daughter closer, inspecting her tiny arms, legs and face.
"No, Mama. He yelled a lot, and he liked to grab my chin and yell right in my face, but it didn't hurt," Madeline pulled at the silk scarf that that was draped around her neck and placed it around Christine's. "He really got mad when I got mud on one of his ugly carpets."
"Yes, he was particularly angry about that," Meg said, appearing in the doorway of her mother's quarters.
"Where is your mother?" Christine asked.
"She's speaking with the officers that just arrived," Meg said, keeping her voice low. "She's explaining the terrible accident the Viscount had with his faulty pistol."
Christine nodded, catching her meaning. All the witnesses to Raoul's death would take the true course of events to their respective graves, maintaining the story that Raoul had died in a state of insanity…
By his own hand.
"Come here, Meg," Erik said softly, rising to his feet.
Meg moved slowly, the effects of her ordeal obviously still affecting her thoughts, mannerisms, and general state of mind.
Erik pulled Meg into an embrace, taking the young woman by surprise. "Thank you for watching over my daughter," he said into her ear. "My wife and I are eternally in your debt."
Christine reached up and grasped Meg's hand, pulling her down to the floor where she sat with Madeline in her lap. She placed an arm around her friend, squeezing tightly.
There was no need for further discussion.
ONE YEAR LATER
Christine eased herself and the bundle she held into the comforting cushions of her favorite rocking chair.
The water from the underground lake lapped the shores of her home with a comforting rhythm.
She hummed softly, rocking in time with the icy waters within the depths of the Opera Populaire.
Her new home was far more comfortable than she ever imagined it could be. Gone were the dusty pieces of furniture, replaced with gleaming marble and mahogany encased tables, cabinets, and other expensive luxuries.
Erik had even managed to chisel a large bay window on the far wall of the basement, allowing sunlight to pour into the labyrinth from the streets above.
Never had the small family been more comfortable, more happy.
The gates to the lair suddenly lifted. Through the swirling mist, a small boat carrying Erik and Madeline came into sight.
Christine placed a finger to her lips, indicating that the pair should keep quiet.
For Madeline, this proved quite impossible.
"Mama!" She called from the middle of the lake, perched at the front of the boat, which rocked perilously with her movements. "We're back from town!" She announced.
The bundle in Christine's arms suddenly let loose a high-pitched wail.
"Is someone awake?" Erik asked as the boat docked several feet in front of where Christine had settled.
"Yes, it appears that way," Christine replied with a smile, shifting the baby in her arms.
"Yay!" Madeline exclaimed, hurrying to the side of the rocking chair. "He's always sleeping," She complained.
"You did too, when you were a baby," Christine informed her, rising from the rocking chair carefully. "Would you like to hold your brother?"
Madeline nodded, taking her mother's place in the rocking chair.
Christine carefully laid the baby in her daughter's small arms. Madeline cooed at her brother, holding him tightly to her chest.
Erik placed an arm around his wife, allowing her to settle against his muscular frame.
"Watch his head," Erik said to Madeline who rolled her eyes in response.
"I know how to hold him, Papa," she told him.
Little Charles looked up at his big sister with wide eyes, one a misty blue, and one a brooding brown.
One color from each of his parents.
The newborn watched the little girl curiously, seemingly memorizing each detail of her flushed face.
"He loves me," Madeline announced, allowing Charles to grasp one of her chubby fingers.
"Yes, he does," Erik agreed.
Christine tipped her head up to her husband, allowing him to claim her lips in a simple loving gesture. "Thank you," he whispered onto her lips.
"For what?" She whispered back.
"For bringing the sun into my life," he replied.
She kissed him again, her heart fluttering at the warmth coursing through her body.
"Mama…" Madeline interrupted, her face screwed into disapproval.
"For heaven's sake, Madeline. You'd think you'd be used to seeing us kiss by now," Christine laughed.
"No, it's not that…" she said, shifting Charles in her grasp.
"What is it?" Erik asked, walking closer to her.
Madeline held Charles out to him.
All at once, Erik understood the problem.
Cradling the baby against his chest, Erik moved to the back room he shared with Christine.
Christine looked at her daughter curiously.
"Future dancing girls do not change diapers," she informed her mother, scurrying off to her room.
Christine laughed, a hearty whole sound.
She was home.
