A/N: Thanks to everyone who waited so long for me to update! You all have been great, and I was glad to have the chance to write a Phantom fiction, and honored by all your wonderful reviews. But alas, as all stories go...they must have an ending at some time. So, to all of you who've kept me up long after the midnight oil stopped burning...XD...I present to you, the final chapter of my tale. Enjoy!

"Hermes, grant my feet wings, so that I may fly swiftly my final course..."

I ran, faster than I had ever run before, and faster than I have ever run since. It no longer mattered to me, the way my heart slammed against my ribcage as though it would explode, nor the way my lungs and legs cried for rest. All I knew was that people were gathering around the public square, and judging from the cruel glint of amusement in those people's eyes, it could only mean one thing...

Public execution.

Don'tlet it be too late...please don't let me be too late...

But there it was, before me like a grim monument...the gallows. The wooden pedestal loomed from the distance, seeming to mock me and my quest. Gritting my teeth, I poured whatever remaining once of power I had into an all-out race, and I could nearly hear the hoofbeats of Death galloping beside me. The hoofbeats turned into the roaring of blood in my ears as I pushed harder, my soul screaming in hatred as I saw Erik being lead towards the hangman's noose.

"We all get what we deserve."

It was the only statement of the crowd that managed to hit my hearing as I stormed past, pushing my way through the gathering of snotty aristocrats and toothless streetwhores. I would have turned to slap the insolent man who'd dared to say this is what my love deserved, had it not meant wasting a precious second of time.

"One the charges of the murder of Joseph Buquet and Ubaldo Piangi, as well as the charges of arson and evasion of authorities, how do you plead?" a greasy looking man read off a rather small looking parchment, considering the weight of the accusations.

Erik's eyes locked on me as I shoved aside some high-class broad, over half-way through the sea of people. I begged with my gaze, begged him to plead innocent, if only to stall for time. He said nothing, and I nearly screamed with fury. Damned, proud, detestable man. Oh, were they ALL like this!

"Silence, monseuir, will be taken as a plea of guilty," the man sniffed, waving the parchment about a bit. "Again, how do you plead?"

His eyes shifted, from me to a corner closeby. I was so close...so close...

"On all charges, you have plead guilty," greasy man finally concluded. "As such, your sentance is hanging. Do you have any last words, monseuir?"

Nearly there...as they put the noose around his neck, I was only so many paces away...oh, Meg, move faster than this...

It was then that my sight travelled to where he had gazed, and I saw two familiar forms that I wished to have never laid eyes on again. My hands clenched at my side into fists, and for that moment I would have loved to have stopped and flung myself across these people, if only to strangle that lowly...

"Last words?" Erik asked, his rich voice free of any worry or fear. He chuckled, never looking away from that hell-sent pair. "As a great man once wrote...'a plague on both your houses.'"

His tone was like chilled acid, and it felt almost as if the crowd itself gave a visible shiver. I wasn't paying attention to them at any rate...I had reached the steps of the gallows, and I was now faced to face with one of the guards who had held me in that rathole of a jailcell. Finally...I could stop. My words barely were audible as I gasped for air, my hand reaching down into my pocket to pull out the folded slip of paper.

"I have...evidence...to dismiss the charges," I hissed, pressing the check into his hands.

The guard raised an eyebrow and unfolded the paper, eyeing it. For a moment he stared, at the amount undoubtably, before refolding it and running up the stairs to the Greasy Man. I leaned against the stairwell, absentmindedly clutching my chest as I tried to quell the aching of my body. The two chattered quickly and quietly, both glancing at me once or twice. Finally, I saw the man snatch the check and slip it into his pocket. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, had it not been for the sound of a trap door snapping open just then.

The executioner had pressed the lever, taking Greasy Man's sudden disinterest as a cue to carry out the sentance. I heard the sudden noise of both sadistic pleasure and reserved horror from the crowd, and I could only choke out a sob, not able to look up...I had been too late, after all...

"IDIOT, cut him down, or it's YOU who's going to be strangled to death!" Greasy Man yelled, and I jerked my head up as I heard the sound of something hitting the floor of the gallows. "Deepest apologies, monseuir, we recieved a...pardon, at the last minute..."

Erik growled lowly from the ground as he pulled himself up, letting out a long string of curses as the guard and Greasy Man backed away. Even the executioner kept his distance, and the crowd quickly broke up and moved out. I couldn't help but let out a weak laugh as the previously smug bystanders paled and retreated...No, my Phantom had not lost any of his infamity. He stood, looking down at me from the platform, then walked down the stairs. I opened my mouth to say something, but he simply grabbed my arm and began dragging me towards an ally.

"Nice to see you, too," I muttered.

"We're not safe here," he replied shortly as he lead me down the dark sidestreet, his voice strained. "Wait until we get to the operahouse..."

I bit my lip, letting him take me through a maze of backstreets towards the threatre. There was a relief inside of me, the relief that we were both alive and that we were walking away. And yet, I couldn't feel that sense of joy, couldn't celebrate it, until I knew for sure that the danger had passed. It was nearly ten minutes of travel before I could see the same ally we had tried to depart from nearly five days ago, and I could spot not only the area which lead downwards into that small part of Erik's underground lair, I could spot the backdoor to the theatre.

Slowly, I felt his arm curl around my waist, pulling me close to his side. I relaxing against his side as we came through the back door of the theatre and entered the long hallway which led to the dressing rooms and backstage, finally allowing myself a smile. Erik paused inside the door, and I looked up at him, into those golden eyes of his that I had always adored. Raising my hand, I caressed his cheek and watched as his eyelids drooped tiredly, frowning at the light burn mark around his neck. If I had lost him...but I hadn't, and we could finally have a chance. His eyes snapped back open as my fingers curled around the edge of his mask, though I made no motion to remove it.

"What are you doing?" Erik mumbled in my ear, looking slightly sour.

I shook my head. "Don't you trust me at all...? Even after all of this?"

Our gazes locked, and he looked away for several moments. My fingers grasped the edge and I slowly pulled the mask away, waiting until Erik glanced back at me to smile again. After a moment, he relented, smiling back slightly as I leaned foreward to kiss him. The beating of my heart increased as his hands slid around my hips, pulling my closer to his body. Our lips parted, and the tip of his tongue trailing against mine. Gods, it was perfect. It was Heaven, it was bliss, it was---

"Vous allez de la porte de la mort, et droit dans la jupe de ma fille...Maybe I should have let you at the gallows, non?"

It was my mother. Erik pulled back, and I lowered my head as my cheeks flared red. Madame Giry stood less than twelve feet away, hands on her waist and tapping her foot impatiently. I dared a glance at my phantom, slightly comforted by the fact he looked as sheepish as I felt. I then looked to my mother, who clucked her tongue and waved her cane a bit at him, but never taking her gaze off me. Oddly...she didn't look so angry. Finally she sighed, sauntering closer to me.

"Erik, Erik, Erik," she drawled, shaking her head. "Is this how you repay my daughter?"

He stiffened, a hint of malice going through his gaze. "I love her," he growled. "You should know that, madame."

Pressing her hand to her cheek, my mother watched me, then walked foreward and reached to my neck, unclasping the chain that held the sapphire ring. I felt my heart break as she took it, moving towards Erik with a look of determination and something else that I couldn't quite describe. They seemed to glare at one another...as old friends might when they quarrel...but then she took Erik's hand, placing the ring on his palm and closing his fingers over it.

"If that is true," she said softly. "Then mon ami, do what should have been done a long time ago."

Sliding her glance between us, Madame Giry smiled fondly, turning and walking back towards the stage. When she was gone, I looked over at Erik, my voice stuck in my throat. He blinked at me, then came back to my side, looking at the floor. In less than one minute, my heart had gone from soaring, to crushed, and back to flying again. Had my mother really...had she really meant what I had thought...? My breathing stopped as Erik opened his hand, picking up the ring and looking at it. Smirking, he turned his eyes on me, and I felt frozen in place.

"Since your mother is so insistant," he chuckled, taking my hand in his and kissing it gently, "and if you would have it..."

"Yes," I whispered.

He pouted. "I didn't ask a question!"

I pouted back. "Do you have to?"

Dropping a serious look over his face, Erik slid the ring onto my finger. "I must. Meg Giry, will you marry me...?"

With an exaspirated sigh, I kissed him again, and this time...there was no mother there to break our embrace. I felt love then, more love than I had ever felt before, and more love than I have ever felt since. And than, my friends, is always how a good rescue should end.