A/N: I promise, despite the ending, this is not quite the last chapter! I've got a bit more to go. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it. I greatly look forward to reading all of your reactions to it.

Erik spent nearly the entire day lost in composing his new opera. The hours slipped by quickly, and it was not until late in the evening when he remembered that today Gia was meeting Christine for lunch. Had he even eaten today? His stomach grumbled angrily, a reminder that he had gone too long without sustenance. There was nothing for him to eat but a bit of stale bread which he choked down with some lukewarm coffee. Having eased his hunger pangs, he made straight for Gia's room.

When he arrived his fiancée was making herself ready for bed, and she looked rather peeved that he was just now coming to see her.

"I see you have made time in your busy schedule to see me! Do you have any idea what I endured today at the hands of Madame la Viscomtess? She was insufferably rude and made me feel terribly inadequate. If I did not think we needed her to convince her husband that you are not dangerous I would have poured hot tea in her lap!" she raged at him, her curls flying as the emotion overtook her.

"And then, after lunch she apologized. It seems it was all some sort of test to discern how I feel about you. It would seem my word was not enough for her! But it would seem I passed muster with your former songbird. The only good to come of it is that I can tell you she desires no harm to come to you."

She was a magnificent creature when she became impassioned. It was in moments like these he imagined she was most like her mother. Gia always worked hard to keep her emotions in check, but when they came spilling forth, they sometimes threatened to sweep him away. Had she been complaining about another woman he might have been tempted to exact creative revenge on her behalf. Had Christine changed so much in the intervening years that she would use her social status as a weapon?

He sat down on her bed, and patted his lap, indicating she should sit there. Erik watched as she hesitated for a moment, carefully considering his proposal. She was still so uncertain of her body even after all they had done together.

Gia sat down gingerly, putting her arms around her fiancé's neck. "I'm not too heavy, am I?" she asked, her blue eyes searching his.

"No. I like having you close to me." He was rewarded with Gia cuddling close to him, her hands playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. After a few moments, she held herself away from him so they could talk.

"Thank you for being patient with me, Erik. I should not have said what I did about Christine. But I was just so damned angry at her insinuations she somehow knew you better than me."

"It's fine, my love. If she was as uncouth as you say, you have every right to have a bit of fit. Goodness knows you shall have to put up with my tempers from time to time. It's only fair that I should try to understand yours," he said soothingly, keeping his voice soft and low.

Erik brought his hands up to brush some the curls away from her face, and it was only then Gia noticed the ink stains on his hands and shirtsleeves. The black stains were all over his fingertips, as though he had dipped them in the ink. In her minds eye she could see him writing furiously, his hands endeavoring to keep up with his formidable brain.

"I see you have been working. I should have been so cross with you. I'm certain it's all for a wonderful cause."

"I am working on a new opera," he admitted, "I haven't tried to write something on this scale since Don Juan Triumphant. It's unlike anything I've ever done."

"Really? How so?" she inquired, curious to understand her often mercurial husband to be.

"You know my music as well as anyone, how would you describe it?"

She thought a moment before she answered, "Melancholy. Passionate. Intense. Like you."

His lips curled into one his rare smiles, as looked deep into Gia's fathomless eyes. "Exactly. This is a much lighter piece, and I believe I have you to thank for that."

"Moi? I do not deserve that sort of credit. You have changed on your own. I may have helped a bit, but if you had not wanted to change, you would still me the same man who destroyed the Opera Populaire."

Erik stopped her mouth with a searing kiss, leaving her breathless and wanting. His lips were so soft against hers, his tongue caressing and teasing the inner recesses of her mouth. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman alive whenever he touched her. When his lips drew away from hers, she shuddered, yearning for their sweet torture.

"Your contribution was a most vital one. Last night I sat here reading your adored Bard, and I decided one of his delightful comedies would make a lovely opera." He stilled her mouth before she could ask which one, "No questions about which play I have chosen. It may turn out to be nothing in the end."

"Why is it I doubt you would be working so fervently if it was nothing? I shall look forward to hearing it, Erik," she said, the corners of her delectable mouth turning up slightly.

"Now, where were we?" he asked seriously before he returned is mouth to hers, his hands undoing the ribbon around her neck before he slipped them underneath the white nightgown to cup her breasts. Her hum of satisfaction as he stroked them lightly caused him to growl, wanting to give her even more pleasure.

Gia could feel herself already growing damp as he laid her back onto the bed in a smooth movement, his hands splayed against the bare skin of her back. Once she was laying back, her lips parted in anticipation for him, he removed his mask, and divested himself of his ruined shirt exposing his large expanse of chest. She was exquisitely trapped between his powerful thighs, and though her brain was telling her they should not be doing this because she needed to save her energy for the final rehearsal tomorrow, the rest of her was impatient for his heated entry.

Together they pulled off her nightgown, and for a moment he simply stared at her, drinking in the sight of her rosy skin, flushed with passion for him. He ran one ink stained hand along the curves of her torso, and her little sighs along with her twitching hips told him she wanted this as much as he did. His trousers had become a maddening inconvenience, and when he fumbled with the buttons, she tore them open, sending the fastenings flying.

He arched a dark eyebrow at her as he removed them, and when he knelt on the mattress, he was surprised when she rose on her knees in turn so they might explore each other's bodies. Hands and mouths were everywhere, no words being necessary between them. Their actions were an expression of everything they felt for each other, there was fire and gentleness in equal measure, as the partners only sought to please the other.

Erik turned her away from him, whispering to Gia to bend forward and place her hands on the mattress, to which she gave him an arch look over her right shoulder before she did as he asked. In this position she felt wide open and exposed, strangely vulnerable. All at once his hands were gripping her hips as he thrust into her from behind, and she began to push back as she found the rhythm he had started.

As he brought his hands to caress her sensitive breasts, she could feel his chest against her back, and it excited her even further. His body felt heavy and slick, and he felt like he was everywhere at once, as one hand dipped into her core, stroking the folds of her femininity and then tweaking the spot between her legs that never failed to send her hurtling over the edge.

Using his arms and hips as leverage, he craned her body up against his so he could get even deeper inside her. It was never enough. He would never tire of the feeling of her around him, giving herself to him. With another thrust she was arching her back into the deep c-curve he had come to know so well, and he murmured "I love you"s into her ear as she quivered around him. It was only then that he allowed himself to come, clutching her tight to his chest so she would not fall.

"Oh Erik," she sighed nearly out of breath from their mutual exertions, "how do you make it better every time?"

"You are my inspiration," he said as he removed the French letter and tossed it into her waste basket.

When he returned to the bed, they curled around each other, and as sleep began to overtake them, she asked, "Do you think it's this good for everyone else?" His musical chuckle against her neck answered her query.

The final dress rehearsal passed in a blur for Gia. The morning had begun with Erik waking her and assisting her with dressing. She had been about to leave without her pointe slippers when he pressed them into her hands with a teasing kiss. He informed her he was planning to spend the day attending to his new opera, but that he would be sure to be waiting for her after rehearsal. She had returned his kiss with a smile, and told him to try not to too carried away so that he was late for the meeting with the de Chagnys. He had nodded in return before he left her through the wardrobe.

The dress rehearsal itself was not particularly memorable. In the morning they performed a full run though that was more than adequate. It was by no means stellar, but it would be enough not to ruin the Metropolitan. Meg had been wonderful, and Gia took heart that if only one thing came out of the production of Giselle, it would be the praise the young Mademoiselle Giry was sure to receive. She would probably receive an offer from the Royal Ballet Company and Monsieur Dupoix would be forced to renegotiate Meg and Madame Giry's contract if he wished to hold on to them both.

Gia deemed her own performance merely satisfactory. She was a bit off during the long sequence of turns that was the highlight of her solo. As a result, Gia was among the cast members required to attend the afternoon rehearsal where Madame Giry drilled them on the sequences that needed the most work. Unfortunately, Gia's nerves got the best of her after being singled out as a problem and she performed worse during the afternoon. She saw the grimaces on the faces of Madame Giry, Dupoix, and even Monsieur Reyer. They all looked dreadfully disappointed in her.

Curse them for their damn high expectations of her! Was it not enough that she was dancing in a leading role when most ballerinas her age where confined to tiny solo roles or the back lines of the corps de ballet? Gia knew it was not. Most critics would not make allowances for her age and relative inexperience. Everyone would have to hope that she performed better tomorrow evening.

As a result, Gia was in a foul mood while the two assistant seamstresses helped her undress and remove her make-up. When one of them dared say that she would do better the next day, Gia lost her temper, and told the woman the last thing she needed was encouragement from someone who had no idea what she was talking about. The woman had teared up, and Gia immediately apologized, explaining that her frustration was with herself and that she should not be angry with them for attempting to comfort her. That had mollified the young seamstress who said Gia just needed to stop worrying because everyone knew she was more than capable of performing the steps.

Gia thanked the women again, and once they left her she slipped on the engagement ring Erik had given her. She looked at the sparkling stone, and decided that tomorrow night she would wear it even if it would lead to questions. This way she would have something of Erik close to her. He had promised that he would attend, but Gia knew he could very well miss it if he was busy composing. There was also the possibility he would want to avoid the production in case Gia turned into a disaster of epic proportions.

When she arrived in her room, Erik was waiting for her, looking incredibly handsome and forbidding all at once. He had chosen to wear nothing but black this evening, with only the tips of his shirt collar the only spot of white visible, save his mask. His elaborate cravat was affixed with a simple gold pin. He was also wearing his full length cape, and Gia could see a tell tale bulge at his left hip, indicating he had come armed.

The two of them made quite the somber looking pair as Gia was also wearing black, although her ring glinted as it caught some of the flames from the candles that Erik had lit. The candles were an addition to the few gas lamps Gia had in her room. He explained that he wanted the de Chagnys to see them both as well as possible so there could be no mistaking their intentions.

Around 7:30 in the evening a knock came at Gia's door, and a man dressed in navy blue livery with gold trim indicated that the de Chagny carriage had arrived. Gia followed him down to the stables and greeted the noble couple with a curtsey before asking them to follow her. As she bowed her head, she noted that viscomte was similarly armed as Erik had been. At least they would be equals on that score.

"This place is as much of a labyrinth as the Populaire was!" Christine exclaimed rather nervously as they made their way up to the dormitories. The closer they got, the more color was draining away from her already pale face. The only color was her rouge, which stood in stark contrast to the rest of her. She had chosen to wear an ivory gown, and had her hair dressed with several diamond pins clinging to her brown curls. It was her hope that it would remind Erik of the night when she had triumphed on stage.

Uncannily, Raoul was also garbed similar to how he had been that night, although the carefully sharpened sword was an addition to his ensemble. He had said nothing to Gia, although she did not miss his somewhat startled expression when he saw her ring.

"We are here," she announced rather unnecessarily as they reached her door, and she pushed the heavy door open slowly to reveal Erik standing imposingly in the door frame, his arms at his sides.

He turned to the side allowing all of them to pass, and once Raoul shut the door behind them, Erik dipped into a more formal bow, saying, "Good evening, Monsieur le Viscomte. And you as well, Madame."

No one breathed for a moment as Christine and her husband gazed upon the man who had once been their enemy, who stood before them his head down in a gesture of subservience.

"Erik, there is no need for that. Neither Raoul or I require or care for you to be so formal with us," Christine said, breaking the silence, her voice quavering. The shaking only worsened when Erik raised his head, and she caught his blue-green eyes burning through the mask. Raoul gripped her arm to steady her, and Gia offered the viscomtess her reading chair. The young woman whispered her thanks, and took the proffered seat.

"I told you this would be a bad idea, Christine. Look, you are already upset and he has barely said anything!" the viscomte grumbled, and without further ado, he reached for and drew his sword.

Erik saw the movement of the young man's hand and he had his sword raised and ready to engage him. With more courage then she felt, Gia got between the two men, making it impossible for them to do anything without possibly injuring her.

"Put those damn things away, the both of you! There is no need for that! Besides, I don't know how you propose to duel in this room where there is barely room to swing a cat," she admonished both men. Raoul hesitated, but when he saw Erik returning his sword to his hilt, he did the same.

"As always, you show superior judgment, my love," Erik purred. "I would hate to have to damage any of your things giving this boy a lesson in manners."

At that Raoul snorted derisively, and smirked, "Let us not forget who won the last engagement between us when swords were involved."

"And you should not forget the only reason why you are standing there breathing is because of the lady sitting in that chair," Erik gestured with his head. "Do not make me regret the one moment of mercy I showed you, boy."

"Don't call me "boy", you monster! I'm more of a man than you ever will be!"

"I believe Mademoiselle Burnside would beg to disagree with you on that point," Erik intoned, his voice tipped with disdain for the man before him.

"Stop it! Will you both stop it! Are you through proving your wretched masculinity to each other?" shouted Christine, finding her voice and rising out of the chair, by gripping the armrests so tightly her knuckles had gone white. "We came here to talk not to fight. Can we not behave like adults?"

"I would have to agree with Christine," added Gia. "There is nothing for you to fight over any longer."

Raoul turned to look at Gia. "Mademoiselle Burnside, please do not take this the wrong way, but why should I believe you? What assurance can you possibly give me that he is no longer interested in my wife? I do not doubt that he has found a way to work his devilish charms on you and make you care for him. But you cannot hold a candle to my wife who he composed an opera and destroyed a public building for."

Erik's eyes blazed, and he was about to hurl himself at the viscomte and wring the life from his worthless body when a most surprising thing happened: Gia struck him. Hard. Her right hand flew and struck the young man squarely on the cheek, leaving a red palm print behind. The viscomte was so startled her merely gaped at Gia as he brought one hand up to touch his face.

Nothing was said for a moment until Raoul, took his wife by the wrist and said, "Come Christine, we do not have to stay here. I told you this was pointless."

"No Raoul," she contradicted, "I am staying here. And let me be the first to say, you rather deserved that. If Gianna hadn't done it, I would have. You are acting like silly jealous boy."

Erik was about to say something to the effect that Raoul would do well to heed his wife, but Gia shot him a glance that told him to hold his tongue.

"You would take their part in this, Christine? Have you forgotten what he did to us two years ago? He was going to force himself on you! Take you away from the world! Remember how you begged me in that chapel to protect you from him? And now you stand here telling me I am acting silly! I am your husband, damn it, and I love you! I will not let him hurt you!" He sighed, "Why did you even marry me if you care for him so much?"

Christine looked at her husband whose eyes were filled with unasked questions. "I told you, Raoul, I married you because I loved you. I still love you. That does not mean I felt nothing for him! He was quite overpowering to me. I knew nothing of men, and he made me feel things that I did not know could exist between two people. You cannot know how confusing it was for me. My heart was with you, but my body wanted you both."

Her confession shook Erik so greatly, he had to sit down on Gia's bed. There it was. He had not totally misread her after all. She had wanted him. Wanted him in the way a woman wants a man, and it had not been out of pity either. He had aroused her, but her love for Raoul had been the reason she had made her choice. It was only now that he had found love himself that he could begin to understand her confusion. Had he been faced with choosing between Gia and Christine, he only hoped he would be able to go with the woman who held his heart.

"Christine, I am so so sorry for what I did. I was obsessed. I, ----there is no good excuse for what I did to you. What I did to you both," he apologized, his eyes welling with tears.

Gia was unable to let him sit there alone, and sat next to him, taking him in her arms, offering him her shoulder. "There Erik, you have said your peace. It is over now. It is all over," she cooed softly into his ear, rocking him gently.

Raoul could only stare as the Phantom clung to Mademoiselle Burnside as though she was a piece of wood keeping him from drowning. He had seen the fearsome man like this once before. When he had broken down on that night, his body language had been similar, but then there had been no one to comfort him. There was no fear in the young woman's eyes as she held him. They shone with deep affection, and Raoul turned away when she carefully lifted his mask to kiss his tears away. She then replaced it with equal care, and he brought his leather gloved hand over hers, holding it briefly as he looked into her eyes.

"Look at them, Raoul," said Christine softly as she took her place by her husband's side holding his hand.

They both looked on as the two lovers simply gazed at each other, almost oblivious to their presence in the room. Raoul felt like a blackguard for his earlier accusations. These two were deeply in love. One only had to see them together like this and it was evident. It would seem the Phantom had found his lady. Somewhat begrudgingly Raoul had to admit, they did make a handsome couple.

"We should go, Christine," he said, eager to be out of the small room. His remark jerked the Phantom and Gia back to reality, and they both stood, and faced him and Christine.

"It would seem I have misjudged you both," he admitted. "I hope you both can be happy together. Love does not always make life easy. In fact, it can make life damned inconvenient at times."

"Oh hush, Raoul. We should leave these two alone. We shall see them both tomorrow anyway. You know, you both ought to come to supper with us!" the young woman enthused.

"Christine, as much as I would like to say yes to your invitation, I doubt your husband wants to spend an evening with Gia and me. I will not impose myself upon him. And let us not forget, there is still this to contend with," Erik said, gesturing to his mask.

It was difficult, but Raoul forced himself to use the Phantom's name. "Erik, I can promise you, I have seen worse than your mask on the faces of some of the finest families in France. It would be simple to explain that you were burned in accident and no one would think to question you about the mask otherwise. If anything, it would make an interesting conversation piece."

"The last thing I want is to be whispered about," Erik replied. "But I will take your suggestion under advisement."

He held fast to Gia's hand, and Christine beamed at him.

"Erik, I am so glad you are happy!" she cried, giving him a warm kiss on the cheek and a quick hug before she returned to her husband's side. "We will find our way back to the stables."

Gia and Erik followed the couple to the door, and before leaving, Raoul extended his hand toward Erik. As the two men shook hands, the viscomte said, "Forgiven then, Erik?"

"Forgiven, Raoul de Chagny."

When the door closed behind the young couple, Erik threw himself around his bride to be, lifting her up and spinning her around before setting her back down on her bed. The long sad saga of the Phantom of the Opera was finally over.