A/N: Hello again, dear readers. Did you think I had forgotten you? I apologize for the length of time between posts. School has started once again, and as a third grade teacher, my busy season is upon me. To make it up to you, though, I will post this now and immediately go and write what will be our final chapter. I will post it before the weekend is over. Once again, thank you all for your kind words and encouragement. I sincerely miss our playful banter and I hope one day review replies will once again be allowed because they are so big a part of the fanfic experience. Since it has been so long since my last post, I am including the last couple of paragraphs from Ch. 26 so you can remember what is happening. Christine and Erik are in a dark room below La Scala where old scenery and props are stored. Erik has heard a sound from the tunnel behind them and is preparing to defend himself and his lady love from the threat. Raoul, Jacques, and Raoul's men are all searching the opera house for our two lovers.
On with the story...
From the end Ch. 26:
Erik nodded. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I love you, Christine, and our child. If anything should happen to me, Porto Dell' Angelo and everything I have is yours. I have seen to that long ago. Nadir is there. He is a good man, and he would help you to make a life for yourself and the child. Know always that I am with you, if not in body, then in spirit." At his words, Christine looked suddenly frightened. She had never heard Erik talk this way about dying before, and it unnerved her. She wanted to call him back and convince him to escape with her before any blood could be shed, but he had already disappeared into the darkness.
She closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest, praying with a fervor that she had never known before. God, please protect Erik. Let him have a chance at happiness at last. Grant him the family he has never known. Forgive him his sins and watch over us in this hour of darkness.
She knew from past experience that she could not trust in Fate to deliver them. Now her only hope lay with God.
Ch. 27 – Breath and Blood
Erik crept through the shadows without a sound. He marveled inwardly at how very easy it was to become one with the darkness, even after so many years away. It embraced him readily as an old friend, beckoning his soul to surrender once more to its enticing call. He could feel every long dormant instinct awakening as he awaited his prey.
His hands lovingly caressed his neglected lasso. Somehow, even after all this time, his fingers still felt eerily confident around its length. In this world of darkness, he was no longer a mere man, but a king. He alone decided life and death. He alone knew all and yet revealed nothing. He felt the familiar heady awareness of power coursing through his veins and an unmistakable excitement at the imminence of a sweet revenge that he had been so long denied.
There was a dark corner just to the left of where the tunnel opened into the room. Erik positioned himself there in such a way so that any intruder would pass him unknowingly upon entering, conveniently allowing him to surprise the man from behind and end his life before he could sense the dark predator in the shadows.
Having found his point of attack, there was nothing now to do but wait. Erik thought briefly of Christine huddled on the other side of the room, out of sight. He was certain she was terrified, but there was no way for him to ease her fears. When he thought of how she had been treated by the vicomte, how the man had plotted to steal his child, his righteous anger burned within him, far hotter and deeper than any fury he had ever known. He ached to make this man suffer a brutal and torturous death, but for Christine's sake, he would make it quick and virtually painless – far more than the wretch deserved.
At last, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps further up the tunnel. His hearing was still unusually sharp, owing he supposed, to years spent in the gloom of the opera cellars where his sight had been of far less use. As he listened, he distinctly heard two sets of footfalls upon the stone of the tunnel floor.
Erik brought his lasso up to chest height. His best bet would be to dispose of Jacques first, for the vicomte would be far less of a threat. His mind made up, his lasso at the ready, he waited, every muscle contracted and poised to spring.
He could hear hushed voices now. Erik smirked at their foolishness. These two certainly made themselves easy targets.
The fools, he scoffed inwardly, gossiping like schoolgirls while on a hunt for the Phantom! Erik resisted the urge to laugh at their stupidity. As they drew closer, he could just begin to make out their words.
There was a loud thump and one of the men swore loudly.
"Damn it! I am beginning to think the miserable freak isn't worth the trouble. That is the second time I have hit my head on these blasted low ceilings."
Erik recognized immediately the voice of Jacques, the traitor from the Swiss inn. He could just make out his shape, slightly in the lead of the pair. His heart leapt when he saw the vicomte only paces behind. He would have his opportunity for revenge at last. His grip tightened on the rope.
Jacques passed just inches away from his hiding spot in the hallway. But as Erik moved to strike, he heard the vicomte reply, his voice filled with disgust.
"Indeed. And my quarry is hardly worth more. After all, the lying wretch is willingly carrying the spawn of the devil himself in her womb. And why on earth would I wish to raise that monster's bastard child as a de Chagny? It was sheer insanity to consider it. The child will most likely be a demon like its father – ugly as sin outwardly and evil to the core within. It will be disposed of immediately following its birth. Even revenge is not worth the family name being brought so low."
All thoughts of his careful plan flew from Erik's mind at the overwhelming wave of pure unadulterated hatred that surged through his body at the vicomte's words. Without any further thought, he leapt from the shadows and before the vicomte heard the soft hiss of the rope through the air, the lasso was crushing his windpipe.
Erik took no notice of the other man disappearing into the shadows. His burning eyes were fixed on the vicomte's gasping form beneath his hands. He wrenched the man's collapsing form backwards against him, giving the noose a harsh twist that caused Raoul's eyes to bulge unnaturally from his aristocratic face. Erik jerked him roughly around and pulled the vicomte's face to within inches of his own. He removed his mask, forcing the beaten man to see with his last breath the triumphant face of his enemy.
"Perhaps you were right, good vicomte," Erik purred silkily into his ear. "You see me now as the devil on earth, but I tell you that I am a lamb compared to the devil in whose company you are about to spend eternity."
Raoul's face was turning an ashen shade of bluish-gray, and his eyes were losing focus, but terror forced him to claw and flail helplessly at his attacker. Erik's grin widened at the futility of his pathetic efforts. He watched with undisguised glee as the proud vicomte's last strength left him and he crumpled to the floor. Erik retained his grip on the noose, stooping down in front of his enemy's defeated form so that the dying man might carry the haunting image of his distorted face to the gates of Hades itself.
He gave the rope one final tug, bringing the vicomte's ear close to his mouth. "Ironic, isn't it vicomte, that in the end, this monster whom you hated and scoffed at every opportunity will not only outlive you, but have the love of the woman you most desire on earth and the child your pathetic manhood could never sire as well." Erik gave a cold laugh. "Perhaps God is more just than I once gave Him credit for." He placed one hand on either side of his hated enemy's skull, preparing to deliver the final death blow.
A tiny muffled sound from across the room, however, stopped him cold.
"Christine!"
Erik dropped the vicomte's lifeless body to the ground and leapt to his feet. On the other side of the room, in the dying light from the grate, he could just make out the tiny shape of Christine, struggling against Jacques's restraining arms. He could see the faintest glimmer of a pistol barrel pressed against her temple.
At Erik's sudden movement, Jacques cocked the pistol. At the sound of its ominous click, Erik stopped, not daring to move farther. He could hear Christine's frightened whimpers and his heart filled with fear.
The two men eyed each other through the gloom for a moment.
"What do you want?" Erik asked evenly. He had a fairly good idea what the man was after, but at this point, if an exchange of his life for Christine's could be arranged, Erik would take the offer in a heartbeat and consider it a gift. He had no concern for himself. Knowing Christine and the child were safe would be enough.
Jacques sneered. "I want your blood, of course monsieur, and my revenge. Ever since you left me in such a disadvantaged position at our last meeting, I must admit I have thought of little else."
Erik was relieved by his words. The man didn't sound the least bit interested in Christine.
Erik nodded towards her. "You let her go, and I give you my word, I will not resist you." His voice was smooth and he was surprisingly calm.
Christine immediately cried out, "No Erik, oh God no, please...You can't...You can't leave me like this!"
She dissolved into helpless tears, praying fervently for deliverance from the horror that she was watching unfold before her. If Erik were to be killed, she would surely go mad with grief. She would much rather end her life right now beside him.
"If you kill him, kill me too. Please, please...I beg you." She was sobbing and tugging on Jacques's arm, pleading with him for the most merciful outcome she could imagine from the current circumstances. Jacques looked down at her with vague surprise and disgust.
"Hush, Christine, think of your child!" Erik's voice was harsh, but Christine could hear the fear beneath.
"Our child! It is our child, Erik! And if you can abandon it, then so can I! I won't stay on this earth without you. I won't!" She was nearly hysterical, her voice wild with panic, but he knew from her tone, she would make good on her threat. After all, she had nearly succeeded in ending her life several times before. Erik's mind raced. His one hope would be to provoke Jacques somehow and attack him when he was not thinking clearly.
Jacques, meanwhile, was growing impatient with the emotional scene playing out before him and the weeping woman begging and clutching at his arm.
"Enough! Both of you!" He pushed Christine roughly away and closed in on Erik. The greedy gleam of certain vengeance burned openly in his eyes.
"Throw the rope over here," he commanded, his voice low and threatening.
Erik hesitated. "Promise me that you will let her go and never come near her again." He knew it would most likely be an empty promise, but if he were to die, he at least wanted the comfort of believing, however foolishly, that his sacrifice would buy some measure of safety for Christine and his child. Besides, he was stalling for time, looking for an opportunity to put Jacque off balance somehow.
Jacques laughed coldly. "I've no interest in your opera whore. With the money I will earn for this, I can buy a thousand of her."
Erik smirked at his greed. This, perhaps, was his chance. "You may find your promised fee difficult to collect, as your employer is no longer breathing." He waved a hand toward the vicomte's body sprawled motionless on the stone floor of the tunnel.
Jacques's eyes followed his gesture and he let out a scream of fury, "No. NO! My plan, all my work, everything – ruined! All because of YOU!"
With no further hesitation, he strode toward Erik, pistol aimed directly at his heart. Erik watched Jacques's hand on the gun, not moving a muscle until the last second just as the man's finger squeezed the trigger, when he dove to the floor. The loud report reverberated throughout the room, and the bullet ricocheted wildly off the far wall.
Christine screamed and covered her head with her hands.
Jacques seemed momentarily disoriented, but before he could react, Erik slipped the rope over his neck from behind, pulling with all his strength and no hesitation. The sickening snap of the man's neck echoed grotesquely through the cavernous room.
Then, all was suddenly quiet. Erik stood breathing heavily over the man's limp body, slightly dazed by the myriad of events that had taken place in the breadth of one short moment. He let out a sigh of relief.
Christine.
He took two short steps towards her and she closed the remainder of the gap between them in a rush, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him madly.
"Erik, oh thank God you are all right. When I think of what could have happened..." she trailed off, her fear still so fresh in her mind that it moved her to tears once again.
She leaned her forehead against his chest and he stroked her hair, murmuring softly against her temple. "Everything is all right darling. I am here, and I will never leave you. I promise." Erik found he was smiling despite all that had just taken place, thinking now that there was nothing more in the way between them those words could be true at last.
They stood there like that for many moments, lost in their relief and dreams for their future together. Neither took any notice of the man stirring ever so slightly on the floor of the tunnel behind them.
Raoul felt each shallow breath as a hot, searing pain in his chest. The air burned him like fire when he inhaled, yet his lungs screamed from the lack of it. He lifted his head slightly from the floor. Though his vision was blurry and unfocused, he could see the motionless body of Jacques lying twenty feet away. He drew in another agonizing breath and closed his eyes, willing them to focus. But the effort wearied him greatly and he lay his cheek back down upon the cool, damp stone of the floor.
He could hear voices not far away, one soft and sweet, and the other sending chills down his spine. With all his remaining strength, he raised his head once more and trained his ear to the sound.
"Christine, my love, I am afraid this may mean the end of your days at La Scala. I am so very sorry." Erik tilted her head up so that he could see her expression, expecting disappointment. But to his surprise, her velvet brown eyes shone instead with a soft, new light.
She shook her head gently. "No, darling, I have a much more important role to prepare for now." She took his hand in her own and placed it on her still flat stomach. Erik looked first down to his hand, then back up to her loving face, his emotion evident in his eyes. Christine smiled. "In a few months, I will be mother to our child, and there is nothing else in the world I long to be more," she paused, "Except perhaps your wife Erik, if you will still have me after all of this?" Her eyes searched his face, a hint of uncertainty in their depths.
"You don't know how long I have waited to hear you speak those words, Christine." Erik breathed. He pulled her to him and drew her into a deep, tender kiss, showing her at last all the love and devotion he had held for her over a lifetime. I will soon be a husband and a father, he thought. That unbelievable realization broke through every last defense, every last sorrow of his life.
Erik was so caught up in the wonder of the moment he did not feel the hate-filled eyes throwing daggers at them from across the room.
He did not see the shaking hand reaching for the pistol lying forgotten in the shadows.
And he did not hear the click of the hammer as the vicomte took aim at his turned back.
In the next moment, it was as if time slowed to an unnatural pace to allow for a multitude of sudden events to all fit within the space of a second.
At the crack of a gunshot behind him, Erik turned toward the sound, instinctively putting his body between its source and Christine. Just before the bullet made contact with his chest, however, a second shot rang out and a dark shape flew in front of him, knocking him sideways. Erik braced himself inwardly for the arrival of the seemingly inevitable bullet, but it seemed delayed somehow in its arrival. He thought for a second that it had miraculously missed its mark, until a sudden white-hot pain in his side and the sound of his own flesh being ripped apart told him otherwise.
He fell to his knees before Christine, a look of vague surprise on his face and a creeping crimson stain growing rapidly against the white of his shirt front. Two other bodies slumped to the floor behind him.
Christine heard a piercing scream that she dimly identified as her own just before the room went mercifully dark.
