A/N: This will be the last chapter of Rose Rouge. I…I don't know what to say. This fic was my most successful. All thanks to you guys! I love you all!

Dedication: To every single reviewer (I'll most likely post a note afterwards, thanking you in more detail)

Final Chapter: The Way Things Should've Ended…

One year seemed to pass by all too quickly. But for Christine and Erik, it was nothing but bliss. Pure bliss. After all, the lovers were now wed. Surprisingly, many people made sure that they were present for the event.

Meg tugged on Christine's sleeve. "He's not going to make you wear a black wedding gown, is he?" She asked innocently. Curiosity filled her eyes.

"Meg, you're being silly!"

One year also contained Erik's birthday. Now, our phantom was painfully used to celebrating his birth alone. In fact, he loathed the day. It held too many painful memories.

However, when he was out collecting his usual 20 thousand francs, Christine concocted a plan.

"Happy Birthday, Erik!" Christine giggled, making her husband drop the filled envelope to the ground, in shock. She rushed over to him, swung her arms lightly around his neck and brushed his right cheek lightly with her lips.

"Happy Birthday, O.G." Firimin and Andre held out their gifts with shaking hands.

"Why are we here again, my fellow?" Firmin whispered to his partner, a sweat drop dripping slowly down the side of his face.

"The girl invited us…"

"I made a noose!" Raoul replied, wiping his brow in triumph. "God, was that thing frustrating to deal with. Wasn't it Philippe?"

Philppe just cupped his cheek in his hand and sighed. "Your present, Monsieur." He held the package out hastily. Meg shook her head and went to pass it to Erik.

Why was Raoul invited? Why was he playing with a Punjab lasso? Christine just answered Erik with a simple, 'he invited himself' remark.

Then there was the other time. Erik was sitting comfortably in his desk chair, writing the slightly threatening- but not too much- letters to the managers.

"There's no shame in it, my dear."

"Erik, you know I do not support these things. I thought you were going to retire from this silly game." Christine spoke in a stern voice, waving a forefinger in front of him. "I don't want to give you another lecture!"

"I just want to wish them good luck in tonight's performance!" Erik muttered defensively.

"Your behavior still frightens them!" Christine strolled over and took a seat next to Erik on the bench. She stared at the yellow piece of parchment, to the quill, and then to the maroon colored ink.

". . . Christine?" he asked, studying her facial expression with interest.

"Oh, just give me it!" she playfully snapped, grabbing the writing utensil firmly and then scratching furiously on the faded yellow surface.

Richard Firmin's blood drained from his face, when reading the next letter:

Our Dear Managers,

I believe you know what is coming. You should be quite accustomed to it by now. I have written this letter to remind you that that my salary is to be paid. Please put 20 thousand francs into the envelope attached and give it to Madame Giry. Oh, and raise her salary as well. She deserves it. If these demands are ignored, there will be a misfortunate…worst than death!

Fondly,

M. and Mme. O.G.'

The ballet instructor took it with a laugh, nodded to Firmin and then turned on her heel, out the office.

Those were only a few happy moments that had occurred during the last 365 days of their marriage.

Now Erik was pacing back and forth outside the bedroom door.

"You really should go in there. She wants you in there!" Meg said, trying to consol him. She watched as he collapsed into the chair next to her. Erik didn't say a word. He swallowed past the small lump in his throat and gazed at the brass door knob. Erik was deathly afraid of what was taking place behind it.

"It won't be as bad as you think; you're just getting yourself worked up." Meg tried again to comfort him. She placed a hand instinctively on his shoulder, only for Erik to flinch and shrug it off. She let a deep sigh escape her mouth. Why bother anymore? He wasn't going in! It just annoyed her now. It annoyed her beyond reason!

"Fine Erik! Stay out here and be afraid! You're only going to have to face it later!" She cried out in aggravation.

Erik turned to Meg. She was right. Sooner or later, he'd have to see his child. He slumped further into his chair. He hated when other people were right. Slowly, hastily, Erik got up onto his feet and reluctantly went to open the door. His mind screamed not to enter, but his conscious thought differently. Carefully, Erik turned the knob, listening to the door creak as he walked inside.

The first thing Erik heard was the midwife.

"That's right, Madame…just a little more. That's it! You're doing fine," she encouraged Christine. The pillow resting underneath her head was drenched with sweat. Little wisps of brown hair stuck nicely to her forehead. Christine screamed out in agony as she pushed harder. Erik wasn't even sure if she had noticed his presence. Suddenly, Christine grasped his hand tightly and squeezed it, giving him a weak smile before her next cry of pain.

"We're almost through. One more push, my lady. Then it'd all be over!"

There was another scream, a soft whine, and then everything was silent. Erik's hand was sore under Christine's fierce hold, but that didn't matter to him. He kissed her damp head lovingly and went to fetch a towel. As he did so, the midwife took the baby and wiped off the body fluids that were covering its flesh. Erik's heart was pounding furiously inside his chest.

"…my…" the woman said, placing the infant gently into the cradle.

"Wha…what is it?" Christine breathed, trying to position herself upright in the bed. "What's wrong?"

The midwife looked at her, then cooed, "Oh, nothing to worry about, child. Your daughter just has very interesting eyes. She should be crying, however." She peaked in over the cradle edge and looked at the baby. "Very interesting eyes, indeed…"

"Our…daughter?" Erik asked, gradually becoming more and more relieved. "Our perfectly normal daughter?"

"If you mean no deformities and such, than yes, the girl is normal." The midwife replied, understanding his worries.

Then, the baby burst into a cry, but not an unbearable cry. It was somewhat soothing, enjoyable even. Erik smirked to himself, and walked over to the cradle.

Christine closed her eyes and listened to her little girl, in a trance-like state. "Let me see her," she whispered happily.

Erik outstretched his arms and picked up the baby tenderly.

"Oh, careful of her head. Make sure it's supported!" The midwife informed.

"Yes, thank you." Erik placed a hand gently under her head and brought his daughter over to the bedside. "Well, I see what you mean by interesting eyes…"

"Oh my, Erik! They're golden! Is that even natural?" Christine squeaked, groping the air on order to hold her.

"It's different, but they suit her…"

Christine giggled. "They remind me of cat eyes. She'll probably see very well in the dark. . ." She ran a finger down the bride of the little one's nose. "What should we name her, Erik?"

"Whatever name you think is best, my angel."

"Well," Christine paused and looked down at the baby, "I've always loved the name Madeleine . . . but I can see if you'd rather not—"

"After my mother?" Erik blinked.

"Yes. . ." Christine averted his gaze and looked at the midwife, who gave her a nod of approval. "Although you don't think too fondly of her, she's the one who gave birth to you, and for that…I could never be more grateful." She met his turquoise eyes, "Besides," a sheepish smiled formed at the corners of her mouth, "I've always adored the name."

Erik leaned over and caught her lips in a small kiss. "Then Madeleine it is."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Madeleine crawled over to her father, coming onto her knees; she wanted to be picked up. Erik laughed and placed her on his lap with a thump.

"Do you want to know the notes of the organ, Madeleine? Your father can teach you, if you'd like." Erik asked, patting her belly.

Madeleine made a tiny hiccup, and then looked down at the keys. She pointed to one, and then lightly pushed it. She jumped a bit at the sound that came out.

"That would be E. Can you figure out where F is?"

Madeleine nodded and touched another key. This time, she expected its sound.

"Very good, my dear! We're going to be quite the little genius when we get older, aren't we?"

Madeleine smiled up at him and then brought her attention back to the organ. She moved her little fingers over the instrument, instantly learning to play a scale.

"And my mother was worried about me! 3 months old, most likely to master my organ by 4 months!" Erik laughed a second time and brought her into the air. Madeleine giggled and waved her arms to the side, acting like a very chipper bird.

"Christine, our daughter learned to play a scale today." Erik said, bringing her over to the kitchen area and seating her in a height chair that Erik had built himself.

"Well, well, Erik. I'd be worried. She might turn out smarter than her father." Christine chuckled, winking at him.

"Oh, I don't know about that." He replied coming up behind Christine and wrapping his arms around her petite waist. He rested his chin on her left shoulder and kissed her neck. "My angel. . ."

"Oh, Erik…" She sighed, enjoying his protective embrace. She sank into him like a rag doll and then looked at Madeleine. "I love you…"

Erik looked down at her, then to their beautiful little girl, "I love you too, Christine." Then, he captured her lips in a deep kiss.

FIN!

The ending was kind of corny, but I hope you all liked my story! I…I feel like crying. Seriously. I'm going to miss it so much. No more updates, no more reviews…oh, PLEASE REVIEW! My goal for this story is 300 reviews! Please make that possible! I'm so close, yet...so far. No more Erik…

Erik: (kisses me) My angel, I'm still here…

Thank goodness… Anyway, please tell me how you liked it!

-Christine