A/N: Ok, I'm back. I survived Girl Scout camp and couldn't wait to get back and revise the chapter. Took some blood and sweat and major help from PhantomAnn and Darkest Dreams, but here it is. I hope it was worth the wait.

Ch. 22 – Why Can't The Past Just Die?

The pounding on the door had become unbearably insistent. Erik could no longer ignore it and believe that whoever was summoning him was going to give up. He strained to get to his feet and swayed once he was upright. After a moment to steady himself, he started toward the front door of the house. Pulling the portal open, he had expected to be greeted with Stone or Christine herself. Instead he found himself face to face with Raoul de Chagny. No, he thought, he's dead. But his eyes were unfocused and the porch was dark. He squinted, holding onto the door for support, waiting for his enemy to make a move. "What the hell do you want with me? Your wife isn't here!" he yelled.

Philippe was taken aback by the man's appearance. Raoul had not described him as slovenly or a drunk. On the contrary he had confided that the Opera Ghost was a man of refinement and culture. He was not surprised by the temper however. Raoul had spoken of that at length, describing the evening when Christine had held his fate in her hands and the Phantom had been a hair's breath from killing him. Philippe had no respect for a man who would hesitate to do away with his mortal enemy at the word of a woman. No matter whether the woman was Christine or not.

He noted that Erik was not wearing his trademark mask and assumed that he probably didn't even realize that he was without it. He was also pleased to see that Erik was mistaking him for his brother. This would be much easier than he had originally assumed. He had found no dangerous monster, but a weak, pathetic freak. Satisfied with his appraisal of the situation, he addressed Erik for the first time. "So you are the mighty Phantom of the Opera. Quite a disappointment, I must say." He strode as a man that had been invited, past Erik into his entrance hallway. "This must be a pleasant improvement over the sewers of Paris," he said as he took a sweeping glance of the interior of the house.

Erik was struggling with reality. He couldn't determine whether or not he was actually awake or dreaming this. He also was trying to rationalize Raoul's apparent return from the grave when the man began to speak. His voice was not right. The Vicomte did not have the cool, clipped tone. Once he was inside and the light illuminated his features, Erik could plainly see that this man had a more angular face, a harder appearance and a dangerous, regal manner that would never have fit Raoul. But there was a resemblance, and he had known about the Phantom. "Philippe?" he questioned, realization dawning.

"So your brain is still functioning? Yes, Comte Philippe de Chagny. Raoul's older brother and Christine de Chagny's intended. Where is she?" The question was offhanded as if he were just sent to fetch her and they would be on their way once she appeared. When Erik made no move to either close the door or to answer the question, Philippe moved directly in front of him and asked again in a more threatening tone, "Where is she?"

"She's not here. I haven't seen her since the day we arrived." Erik was not in the mood to fight this man. He could care less at this point whether he took Christine back to Paris or not. He had resigned himself to the fact that he didn't know her the way he had always believed he did. He bore no ill will toward Philippe de Chagny.

"Perhaps you can enlighten me as to where she and my nephew are so that I may collect them for our return to Paris?"

"They are with my first mate and his family, about a thirty minute ride from here. I'll draw you up a map." Erik stumbled toward his study to write out the directions for Philippe. His heart was not breaking, it was a dead lump in his chest. He thought of the letter that he had found under her dresser. And the ring. Philippe's words had left little doubt in Erik's mind as to where Christine's loyalties lie. He had written of their mutual excitement for the upcoming nuptials and of the benefit that the marriage would be for Charles. He remembered the exact words, 'Charles can come to no harm once we are married. I will see to his every need as a loving father. Your son's future depends on our merging as husband and wife. No boy should be sentenced to a life without a strong male role model.'

In Erik's head he could clearly hear a voice that sounded exactly like Stone, telling him to stop and think this through. The Stone voice said, Why did she leave France if she was happily engaged to Philippe? What did she hope to gain from leading you on once again? Why did she say she loved you? She had no devious motives, there was no profit in it for her. Why is this man standing in your house, asking you where his fiancé is?

He closed his eyes tightly willing either his head to clear so that he could come up with the answers to these questions, or for the voice of his conscious to cease. 'Charles can come to no harm…' 'Your son's future depends on...' These did not quite sound so much like loving words anymore. Was Christine actually running from Philippe? The question hit him like a ton of bricks. If he had been mistaken all along, he had almost delivered her directly into the hands of the one that she had flown thousands of miles to escape from.

He turned away from the desk and found the man standing in the doorway watching him. "I think perhaps you should wait until morning, Comte de Chagny. Christine and Charles are sure to be in bed at this late hour." For the first time in his life, Erik felt a twinge of apprehension. Gone was the gentleman from outside in the hallway. He was replaced with a cold predator. He knew that he had done himself a disservice by drinking so much alcohol these last few days, as now that he was faced with a threat, he was far too sluggish to defend himself properly. His weapons were behind him inside the desk drawers. They were as useless as he felt at this moment.

"No, I believe I will pay them a visit tonight. But thank you for your kind advice." He held out his hand as he approached Erik. "The map?"

"You are the reason that she left France, aren't you? She wasn't intending to marry you willingly at all."

"You are pushing my patience to the limit, Monster. You will not find me to be as foolish as my brother. I will kill you without so much as a thought. Then I will find your first mate's home and kill him and his family before I take Christine and Charles with me. Should she fight me or attempt to flee again, I will dispose of Charles. You see I have no sense of morality. I don't believe in it." As he spoke, Philippe slowly and calmly continued to advance upon Erik. Erik's stomach clenched at the man's dispassionate words. He had to stop Philippe from fulfilling his threats, but he was unarmed and at a huge disadvantage.

His mind racing for possibilities, Erik began to retreat, backing away from his advancing foe. Philippe's face registered pleasure as he watched the Phantom attempting to flee from him. Erik was inches from the wall and about to trap himself. Philippe could not contain his glee at the weakness of this man who at one time was considered to be such a mighty opponent to his own brother. "I am quite disappointed in you, oh terrible Phantom! Phantom, indeed. You are nothing more than a drunkard and a coward," he spit out as if the words themselves left a bad taste in his mouth. "I believe we are now at an impasse, therefore now would be a good time to tell me exactly where I can find my beloved Christine."

Mere inches from Erik, Philippe's confidence did not prepare him for the other man's actions. As quick as lightning, Erik dove toward the window to his right and ripped at the velvet drapes that were covering it. Before he knew what was happening, the Comte found his neck tightly wrapped with a length of the cord that had previously served to hold the curtains back, and his body crushed against the wall. Erik had not dealt the final death blow, as he was curious about the circumstances that brought Philippe de Chagny to his door.

"Why was Christine running from you?" he shouted at the man. Once again, Philippe managed to unnerve a man that, until tonight had thought he had seen every evil in this cruel world. As he pulled on the rope, cutting off the man's oxygen, the Comte did not struggle, his eyes were placid, his face defiant. Erik saw no fear in his face, no sign of humanity at all. "Tell me!" he shouted in futility. While Philippe was emotionless, Erik's rage was out of control.

"Erik!"

The sound of Christine's scream from the doorway caused Erik to turn his head toward the sound. The second his eyes were off of Philippe, the Comte took the opportunity to remove his hand from inside his pocket and withdraw a revolver. Erik felt the cold barrel of the gun under his chin and heard the click as the hammer was pulled back. He knew that his mistake was now going to cost him his life. Slowly he turned his head back to face his opponent.

Philippe brought his free hand up to clutch at the rope that was still cinched around his neck. He pushed the pistol deeper against Erik's chin and was rewarded as the rope began to loosen. He glanced at the door and saw Christine standing stock still, apparently frozen in shock at the scene in front of her eyes. His eyes traveled back to Erik's and with a rasping voice, Philippe said, "You will not stand in our way as you did for them. She gave herself in marriage to Raoul. Submitted to him her body and her life, but she never gave him her heart because you already had it. She told him that once and it almost destroyed him. He almost let her go to you, but I stopped him. He had her in every other way, why should he care what her heart wanted?"

Erik winced in pain at the realization that Christine had loved him all these years and now they would be parted forever because he had been too prideful and mistrusting to believe in her. Worse yet was the thought of the life that he would be leaving her to live by not stopping this madman. "I will not give her the opportunity to ever choose you over me. There will be no more you." Once again he looked toward the door to where Christine still stood. She had however dared to move as she was now clutching a gun of her own between her small shaking hands. Tears covered her face as she started with hatred and fear at Philippe.

What once should have sounded like a laugh, came out as a hissing wheeze as Philippe reacted to the sight of Christine's lame attempt to threaten him. Returning his eyes once again to look upon his prey, he growled out, "Time to die", and Erik braced for the shot. When he heard the gun go off, he stood in disbelief that there was no pain. Blood splattered on his face causing him to pull back. Amazingly, it was Philippe's face that showed the horror of pain as he slumped toward the floor. A bullet had entered and exited his skull cleanly, leaving a gaping hole at the location of his temple. Erik released the man's arms and he watched him fall to the floor.

Turning toward the door, he gaped at the sight of his love holding a pistol in her hands, standing frozen in shock. He ran to her, taking the gun from her hands and wrapping his arms around her. "Christine? Are you okay?" he asked. She was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wide and fixed on Philippe's motionless body. She didn't seem to register Erik's presence or the fact that he was holding her.

"Christine? Look at me," he demanded as he turned her face to his.

"I killed him," she said in a voice so small that Erik barely could register the words.

"Christine, you did what you had to do. You saved my life and quite possibly the lives of many others. You must not regret your actions." When she began to shake her head vigorously from side to side, he caught her face in his hands and held it steady, looking deep into her eyes. He noticed that she was not returning his gaze, her eyes focused on his shirt front. Years of insecurities about his face crept to the surface and he had to will them away before he became aware that he was covered in Philippe's blood.

He steered her away from the study and into the parlor, sitting her on his sofa. "I will be right back, Christine. Okay?" She did not acknowledge his question, but he left her there anyway. Stepping into the front hallway he saw that the door stood wide open. As he went to close it, he saw a figure moving rapidly in the shadows up to the porch. Before he had a chance to react, he recognized Stone.

"What the hell happened? I heard a shot!" Stone took in the sight of Erik covered in blood. "Are you hurt? Where is Christine?"

"She is in the parlor. Would you sit with her while I clean myself up and change? She's in shock. She killed Philippe de Chagny."

"She what?" Stone felt as if he had stepped into an alternate reality.

"He had arrived here and was about to dispose of me when she calmly blew his brains out." Erik couldn't help but make the dry comment considering the events of the evening. He was fully sober now thanks to the adrenaline rush that he had experienced when de Chagny had almost ended his life. "I suppose that this was what you were referring to when you asked me about Philippe earlier?"

Stone nodded and reprimanded Erik, "You could have asked Christine about the letter. You are a foolish man to accept her betrayal so easily!"

"I know I am. And once she can understand what I'm saying and retain it, I will beg her forgiveness until the end of time. Now please go to her and stay until I have wiped this foul mess off of myself." He dashed up the stairs leaving Stone to enter the parlor.

Christine sat on the sofa, still wide-eyed. She did not turn when Stone came in, nor did she register the fact that he sat down next to her and took her hand. "Christine?" At the sound of her name spoken by her friend, she turned to look at him. She blinked for what seemed like the first time since she had pulled the trigger. "You did the right thing, Christine. You saved the man you love and yourself and your son. You are a strong and brave woman."

"Where is Erik?" she asked fearfully. "Is he okay? He was bleeding!" She was starting to panic and Stone fought to control her.

"It was not his own blood, Christine. It was Philippe's blood. Erik is fine," Stone soothed.

"I killed Philippe," she said as if Stone did not already know. "He was going to kill Erik and I shot him." As she made the statement, Erik walked into the parlor, wearing clean clothes. He had replaced his mask over a freshly scrubbed face. No sign of Philippe was present. Before he could speak she had sprung off the settee and flung herself into his arms. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and her back as she wept into his shirt. Stone rose and moved past the couple, closing the doors behind him to ensure their privacy.

"Erik, I killed him," she sobbed. "Oh God, what did I do?"

"You saved my life," he answered. He could remember the feelings that he had experienced after his first kill. It was chilling to the core knowing you could never breathe life back into that person. Since he had not grown up with the same morals or sense of decency that she had, he had not dwelt on the negative for too long. He knew that she would be haunted by this night forever regardless of the fact that what she had done had saved them all from a horrible fate at the hands of Philippe de Chagny.

Squeezing her closer he added, "I'm so sorry, my love. If I had not been so foolish and so stubborn, this would never have happened. Please forgive me?"

"I should have told you when we were on the ship, Erik. We were both foolish and stubborn." She was gripping his back tightly, finding comfort in his strong arms. "No forgiveness is necessary."

"I love you," he whispered against her hair. She could not bear the sound of tenderness in his voice, it broke her heart to know what she had missed out on for so many years and what she had almost lost again tonight. Her resolve strengthened with his sweet words. She knew that she had to affirm him in the only way she could.

"Erik, I want to marry you. I want to marry you as soon as is possible. Tonight if we can. I need to be your wife once and for all." She was no longer buried into his chest, but facing him fully with determination in her eyes. His mouth captured hers quickly before she could say anything further. He was drowning in the words that she had just overwhelmed him with.

As the kiss ended, he held her face between his hands and said, "You have saved my life again, Christine. But we must clear away the events of this night as quickly as possible. I want you to rest now. We will make the arrangements to be wed tomorrow."

They left the parlor and Erik took her upstairs to his bedroom and instructed her to lie down while he and Stone disposed of the body and cleaned up the study. She found that despite the horror that she felt about what she had done, the joy of finally becoming Erik's wife was her only thought as she found the peace of sleep.

The men worked diligently for hours cleaning up the room and purging any sign of Philippe de Chagny. His body was dragged out of the house and loaded onto a makeshift gurney that Erik dragged with his horse to a secluded spot in the woods and buried. They surveyed the study and found it to be devoid of all evidence of the killing except for the hole in the wood paneling where the bullet had lodged after leaving the man's skull.

Stone had decided to take the time to journey home so that Maura would not worry overmuch. It was almost dawn when he set out. Erik darkened the first floor of the house and made his way to his bedroom. He removed his shirt, his mask and his shoes and stretched out beside Christine in his bed.

Upon gathering her body to him, he was shocked to feel her bare shoulders. Looking across the room he saw her dress, corset and chemise lying across a chair. His exhaustion seemed to ebb away as the heat of desire replaced it.