A/N: And so my readers, we have come to the end of Gia and Erik's journey together. I hope you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I have had writing it. I realize this final chapter is a BIT on the sappy side, but I am a sucker for a happy ending. This is intended to be the end of the line, although with some encouragement, I might be persuaded to write a short epilogue. Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, and if you know people who have hesitated to begin reading stories because they are never finished, please tell them this one is!
Gia was still not certain the evening had not been the product of a fevered dream. With Erik's ring on her finger, knowing a part of him was close, had allowed her to feel free from the moment she had taken the stage. Her mind was almost a perfect blank. She saw nothing but the people on stage, heard nothing but the haunting music, and somehow her body had known exactly what to do. There had been none of the terrible angst that she would fail, that somehow she would fall out of one of the many pirouettes in her solo and become embarrassed. It had only been the noise of the clapping hands at Hilarion's collapse that the reality of the moment had seized her.
She was on stage, performing in Giselle, and the audience of the Metropolitan, many of whom had seen many a production of this particular ballet, was applauding her.
Then during the curtain call, the cheers began again. Men and women threw flowers, and there in the orchestra pit Monsieur Reyer was grinning from ear to ear. She looked up toward the manager's box, and both Monsieur Dupoix and his wife were on their feet clapping, with Madame Dupoix brushing tears away from her eyes. Gia had scanned the crowd looking for Erik, but saw no sign of him. She did not want to think he had somehow missed this. She needed him to be here, to share this with him.
Once backstage, she was greeted with warm words and embraces from the cast and crew members. Meg dashed forward, her pale face flushed with happiness and arms full of roses, kissed her on each cheek, and insisted she take at least half the flowers off her hands because they rightfully belonged to her. Gia quickly found her arms filled with the fragrant blossoms, and Meg had none.
"Meg, whatever are you up to? You said I only had to take half!"
"These ARE half! Georges has the rest and he's bringing them to my dressing room," she said beaming. "Oh, before I forget, and in case I do not see him, thank Erik for me for his flowers. They are lovely. They came this afternoon. And Maman was quite taken aback he remembered her as well."
He had sent them flowers? Gia could not help feeling somewhat jealous of the two women.
She must have done something to betray her feelings because Meg laid a soft hand on her shoulder and said with conviction, "Gia, I'm sure he didn't forget you. He will be here. He doesn't miss a performance when the woman he cares about is on stage."
Feeling the need to get away from the crush of people, now that some of the audience had made there way backstage seeking to offer congratulations, Gia attempted to make her way to her dressing room. However, she found herself waylaid by well-wishers who insisted she speak with them. Being as polite as possible she thanked them all, but explained that she really should get out of the costume before it was damaged by someone accidentally sloshing some champagne on it, or singeing the skirt with a cigar. Thankfully the patrons seemed to understand, and she made for her dressing room as fast as her feet would carry her so she might have a bit of peace.
But even that was not possible, for when she arrived at her room, the two girls were waiting for her to help her undress. They squealed delightfully at the sight of the flowers, and one of them ran off to find some vases to put them all in. Before Gia could even begin the process of undressing, there was a sharp rap on the door, and when she opened it Madame Giry was standing there, clearly pleased.
"You did well. I am very pleased with you." It was the highest praise Gia could have hoped for. Antoinette Giry was more difficult to impress than even the most cynical of Parisian critics, and to hear such praise from her was a rare thing indeed.
As Gia and the ballet mistress stood in the doorway, the giggling girl returned with two vases, but she was not alone. Hot on her heels were a couple of stage hands bearing bouquets that they were told by young gentlemen to bring to Mademoiselle Burnside. Gia thanked them, and put the flowers on a table. Madame Giry then gave the young men and ladies a stern look, and they all scurried out of the dressing room leaving the two ladies alone.
"It would seem, Gia, your performance has caught the eye of some of the men in the audience," mused Giry.
"I am sure they simply thought that with all the men vying for Meg, they would have a better chance with the older, and reportedly spinster-like Mademoiselle Burnside. They probably see me as an easy conquest," replied Gia.
"You should not belittle yourself so, Gia. You danced with a fire tonight that I know from experience men find dreadfully attractive. Undoubtedly, they did not notice the ring you wear on your left hand." As she remarked on the ring, she reached for Gia's hand and brought it up so she might get a closer look at it. "Trust Erik to have as impeccable taste in jewelry as he does clothes."
Gia could not stop herself from asking, "Did you happen to see him in the flies? Or did anyone mention someone lurking up there? I looked for him in the audience during the curtain call, but I did not see anyone with a mask."
Madame Giry studied Gia's face. Her eyes were wide with worry, eager to hear that someone had spotted a masked man in a place where none should have been. She almost wished she could lie to the young woman and tell her she had seen him. "Unfortunately I did not see anyone this evening, and no one mentioned anything strange going on backstage. If anything, things went smoother than I had hoped. I fully expected Meg to be late for one of her entrances because of how little time she had to change costumes. I only wish I had better news to give you."
Another knock came at the door, and Gia sat in front of the vanity mirror, willing herself not to cry or betray her disappointment. She did not want to see anyone at the moment.
"Madame Giry, can you please tell whoever is there that I apologize for my atrocious manners, but that I am not receiving visitors this evening?"
The ballet mistress nodded in acknowledgement and went to the door, fully intending to tell whoever was there that Gia was indisposed and not ready to see anyone, but standing in the doorframe, hands behind his back was Erik in his formal evening wear. It took a moment to register, but when the realization dawned that he was not wearing his mask, Antoinette clamped her hand over mouth to prevent herself from making an audible gasp. Once she recovered, she curled her mouth into a grin and said, "Mademoiselle Burnside, there is someone here to see you who will not take no for an answer."
The hinges of the door squeaked as someone pushed the door open forcefully, and Gia turned to see who would be so rude and presumptuous as to intrude upon an unmarried woman in her dressing room. No doubt it would be some man who thought to make her his mistress. She fingered Erik's ring, and squared her jaw preparing herself for whoever would walk through the door.
He strode toward her confidently and then he produced a small bouquet of roses from behind his back. Her eyes shiny and wet with tears, she accepted the flowers, but immediately set them down on the vanity. Gia stood, her legs shaking at the wondrous sight of him unmasked. She took his face in her hands, and caressed his cheeks for a moment before she brought her lips to his.
Their lips and tongues engaged in a hungry dance full of longing; there were nibbles and teasing licks, and yet both their faces were stained with tears. When they disengaged themselves, Gia could not help at chuckling a bit. Running down the right side of his face was a streak of tan makeup, and she touched it tentatively with her right hand.
"You did not have to do this for me, Erik. You know I accept you as you are. You do not have to hide behind greasepaint. I do not care what anyone thinks of you."
His voice was soft and low in response. "It was time, Gia. It was time I left the mask behind." He brought his gloved hands to hers and entwined their fingers. "You make me want to be a part of the world. I want to stop hiding."
Gia choked back a happy sob. Her heart was so full and content, it seemed impossible that only weeks ago she had been without him. How had she lived without him? But she knew the answer to that question all to well. She hadn't. Her life had been a dull and colorless one. She had merely existed. Now she lived.
Remembering where they were, and that she had not even changed out of her costume, she brought her hands up to her face, "My God, I must look a fright! The makeup must be all smeared." Looking in the mirror, there were two long dark rivers of kohl on her cheeks, and the red stain around her lips had been smeared.
Ever the charming seducer, Erik said over her shoulder, "I think you look ravishing. Or at least, like a woman who is about to be ravished. Now, let me help you with that hair."
Madame Giry looked upon the scene with great amusement as she watched Erik help Gia take down her hair, first removing the pins that held the pearl crown, then moving on to pulling out the pearl beads that had been wound through her elaborate coiffure. Only once that was done, did he use his fingers to undo the carefully secured twist at the nape of her neck. When the curls tumbled down, finally free, he brushed them aside and placed a tender kiss on the back of her neck.
Had she been paying greater attention, she would not have missed Monsieur and Madame Dupoix walking through the now open door to find a strange man with his hands on Mademoiselle Burnside. The older man's startled voice came as a shock to the three of them.
"Now see here man, I will not allow you to take such liberties of Mlle. Burnside! I think of her as a daughter, and I will not allow some man to make her his temporary plaything and ruin her. What are your intentions?" the voice demanded.
Erik wheeled around, and said with utter seriousness, "I intend to make Mademoiselle Burnside my wife. She has already consented." As proof, he helped Gia out of the chair, and brought up her left hand so the man might see the ring.
"Gia, my girl, how can you propose to engage yourself to a man you have just met! You cannot know anything about him! He might already be married. You cannot be so naïve," he said, shaking his head at her. He would have thought the girl would show more sense. Damn her stupid mother for keeping her so sheltered! Now she had attached herself to the first gentleman who had come along.
She saw his confusion and disappointment, and she reassured the concerned couple with a smile. "I know this is rather difficult to believe, but Monsieur Erik and I have known each other for sometime. We simply wished to keep matters private. His family disapproves of his feelings toward me," she lied.
Erik was forced to hold back a derisive snort at that notion, but it seemed that at least Madame Dupoix believed Gia. The short, plump woman with graying hair admonished her husband, "Oh Michel, you are being silly. Don't you remember the fuss my parents made when you declared for me? They hated the idea of their daughter marrying someone involved with the theater. So foolish the prejudices people have."
She beamed at Erik and Gia and continued, "Allow my husband and I to congratulate you both. I had hoped to see Gianna settled with a good man, and any man willing to stand up to his disapproving parents is a good one in my book. Come now, Michel, we should leave them alone to celebrate."
Erik could have sworn the woman winked at him.
She was tugging on her husband's arm, but he remained unmoved. "Alright then, if your intentions are so honorable, monsieur, when is the wedding? My wife and I should be there for Gianna, as she has no family of her own." When Dupoix saw the panic in the man's eyes, he was sure he had him.
However, Gia quickly retorted, "We are to be married on Wednesday evening. As you can imagine, given Erik's situation, it is to be a private ceremony at St. Etienne's."
"Stuff and nonsense! I will see you given away properly. Your mother would have wanted it that way. And I insist you wait at least a month so we can make proper arrangements. It will take at least that long to get you a proper dress, and then there will be wedding supper to be arranged, and the flowers . . ." he replied, making a mental list. If Gia was determined to marry this strange looking man, he would at least see it was done with all the due ceremony.
"Thank you for the offer, Monsieur Dupoix, but I have made the necessary arrangements. Gia's dress will be ready on Monday. She needs to visit Madame Collette for a fitting that day, but otherwise everything is in place," he said calmly. The manager was still looking at him incredulously, but his wife was clearly enraptured by the turn of events.
"You see, Michel! This gentleman is no green boy! Allow the man to take care of his own wedding. I must say, I find this all dreadfully romantic," she said with a sigh. Seeing these two young lovers made her nostalgic for the early days of her marriage. "It must be like a fairy tale for you, my dear. First you triumph on stage, and now you are about to find yourself married to a handsome, obviously capable gentleman who you adore. Why anyone who looks at you would have to know you are in love! You are positively glowing!"
There Erik could not disagree with the older woman. To be sure, some of the glow could be attributed to the powder covering her arms and chest that had been used to give her a somewhat ghostly appearance, but Gia's face had an inner light, and when she was happy, it was barely contained. He took the hand of his bride to be and placed a long open-mouthed kiss on the back of it. "Monsieur and Madame Dupoix, I am well aware that Gianna is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I also apologize for carrying out my suit of her without your knowledge. I suppose I was so carried away with my feelings for her, that I laid aside conventional behavior. I do hope you both can forgive me."
Erik had quite skillfully maneuvered Monsieur Dupoix into something of a corner. If he did not give his blessing after Erik had so prettily apologized he would look rather churlish in front of his wife and Gia. He narrowed his eyes at Erik, knowing he had been had and returned, "I would be unthinkable for me to deny Gia something that would make her happy. I can see you make her happy, monsieur. Now, if you will excuse my wife and me, we will share these glad tidings with everyone else at the Metropolitan."
Touché, Erik thought. His once private, quiet wedding ceremony was about to become common knowledge. Displeased, he briefly considered strangling the man, but with at least two other witnesses, that would not be practicable. He watched the couple as they exited, and no sooner had they walked outside the door, he could hear Madame Dupoix telling someone of the recent turn of events.
"It would seem Erik, you may have to make some adjustment to your nuptial plans," said Madame Giry who was smirking at him. "Now if you will allow me to withdraw, I am going to check in on Meg, and make sure she is not making herself sick on cheap champagne and expensive chocolates."
Finally alone, Erik assisted Gia in undressing. Since they had made no plans for that evening, Gia was now wearing one of her old black dresses, looking much subdued from only a few minutes before but still lovely. Damn that Dupoix for spoiling his wedding plans!
"My love," he asked her earnestly, "Do you think we might elope?"
Her playful slap, told him all he needed to know.
As he had suspected and feared, the news that Gianna Burnside was about to be married spread like a wildfire throughout the Metropolitan, and it fast proved impracticable for Gia to tell people that it was meant to be a small wedding. Father Lessard graciously agreed to move the ceremony forward from the evening to the afternoon to accommodate the larger numbers, looking rather pleased when Erik informed him about it. He almost could have sworn the man had planned the whole thing, had he not known otherwise.
Now, Erik found himself standing in front of the altar of St. Etienne's with nearly the entire staff of the opera house in attendance. The crowd spilled onto the groom's side of the church since his side was noticeably empty, save for the first pew where Christine and Raoul sat. Christine looked inordinately pleased to see him safely married off, and her husband seemed mostly gleeful that he need never be concerned about losing his wife to the Phantom ever again.
Standing at his side was Antoinette Giry, wearing her best plum gown, since Erik flatly refused Christine's offer of Raoul to serve as best man. Antoinette had been his best and only friend for most of his life, and there was no one else he'd rather have stand up for him on his wedding day. He shifted nervously, waiting for the organ to strike up the processional, and Antoinette gently laid a hand on his arm to settle him. Before he could ask her about it for the fifth time, she produced Gia's ring from a small purse dangling from her wrist and he sighed with relief.
Anxiously looking back, he sought a glimpse of Gia, but she was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, music came pouring out of the gigantic pipe organ, and everyone turned to face the back of the church. Gliding along came Meg Giry who had been pressed into service as maid of honor, wearing the pale blue gown she had worn two years ago to Christine's wedding. It was a bit gauche to reuse a bridesmaid's dress, but given the surprise nature of the ceremony, and that no one here had been to the wedding of the de Chagnys, Gia assured Meg no one would notice. Once she reached the front of the church, she stepped to the left and looked back, which was the signal that Gia should be brought forth.
Upon seeing Meg reach the altar, Gia found herself clutching the arm of Monsieur Dupoix to steady herself. He tapped her white gloved hand twice, and then stepped forward guiding her down the aisle. The entire congregation rose when the veiled figure in white reached the final pew in the back and fixed their eyes upon her.
"Do I look alright?" she whispered to him as they began the slow march to the front, and he replied, "Gia, didn't anyone ever tell you that all brides are beautiful on their wedding day? And most brides do not have dresses designed by Madame Collette."
The dress was truly a fairy tale confection of white silk, lace, and delicate silver embroidery all along the edge of the skirt and train. Gia silently thanked goodness she had Monsieur Dupoix to rely on because she could barely see a thing through the mist of the veil that was over the front of her face. She had wanted to wear her hair up, since she could hardly be deemed virginal any longer, but Meg and Madame Giry had insisted on her wearing it loose since Erik preferred it that way. It was not until she was three quarters of the way up the aisle that she could even glimpse a tall figure in black tails, and a bright white waistcoat standing on the right side of the aisle with his hands twisting behind his back.
Dupoix felt Gia relax against his arm, and when he presented her hand to Erik formally, she gave him a grateful look, before her eyes locked onto his. Once the ceremony began, it became abundantly clear that there might as well have been no one else in the building, because Erik and Gia only were interested in each other and what the old priest had to say to them.
A ripple of surprise traveled through the assembled crowd as each party gave their names, and the groom's was revealed to be Erik Jean Giry. Was this man related in some way to the ballet mistress, Dupoix wondered? Come to think of it, no one had even mentioned the man's surname to him before this.
The bride broke out a wide grin when she heard the surname Erik had chosen for them. Madame Giry had done so much for them both it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to take her name. There was only the recitation of vows and exchange of rings left, and then they would be married according to all the laws of God and man. As Erik slid the platinum band over the third finger on her left hand, Gia recalled the words of the inscription that he had shown her once he picked up the rings from the jeweler. It read simply: Semper vos es meus lux lucis quod verum. The translation from the Latin being: You are my light and truth always.
The sentiment had brought tears to her eyes then, and it did now. Her eyes were damp when she pushed the heavy band onto his finger, the token which signaled that they were bound to each other by more than mere words. That act completed, Father Lessard pronounced them man and wife, and instructed that the groom should kiss his bride.
This was the moment that Erik had been waiting for since the moment he had seen her coming down the aisle, her face shrouded by the lace of the veil. It had felt strange standing next to her being unable to see all of her features clearly, and it had struck him this was how she must have felt when he had worn his mask all the time. Although he still wore it from time to time when he ventured out in public, he was slowly becoming accustomed to leaving it behind entirely with the encouragement of Gia and the Girys. He gently pushed the nearly weightless fabric back to reveal the face of his beloved, who greeted him with one of her lovely smiles.
Custom dictated that the kiss be a gentle one on the lips to signal to the assemblage that the couple was united, but Erik could not resist slipping his tongue into her mouth, to which she responded with great ardor. It was only when the priest whispered, "That's enough my children!" that they recalled they were in public. As they disengaged themselves, Gia blushed becomingly, but Erik's eyes glowed green, as he was obviously quite pleased with himself.
Since Erik was barely what anyone could call Catholic, there was no formal Mass, and following the benediction, the wedding was over, and he took Gia by the arm leading her out of the church and onto the steps. Gia had informed him they would be expected to exchange greetings with their guests, something to which he had first objected to on the grounds that they were going to see many of them later that evening. The infernal Viscomte de Chagny and his wife had insisted on throwing them a wedding supper, something which only meant his wedding night would be delayed even longer. Gia had reminded him that a party meant they would likely receive gifts which might come in handy in setting up housekeeping.
He had grudgingly assented to the party, but he was already thinking up ways they might leave early so he might see Gia in the negligee he had made for the occasion. He was thinking a mild case of food poisoning would do just the trick. Somehow he'd find a way to make the boy pay for delaying the enjoyment of his full rights as a spouse.
Standing on the steps of the old gray church Erik looked into the eyes of his bride, at long last having found the peace he had never thought possible in this life. Needing no words, they clasped hands, knowing that there was nothing powerful enough to break the bonds that had been forged between them. They had walked through the unquenchable fire of loneliness and need separately, only to find the one waiting for the other. When they had emerged, it was as one eternal soul.
Some day, if he could find the words, he just might write an opera about it.