A/N::sidles out to readers, shuffling feet nervously: Oh… hi… sorry for the long wait. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. I, uh, wrote this two times and I was bombarded with schoolwork. I spent about a week on a mousetrap car for Physics so please forgive me!

This is the last chapter… after this is an epilogue. I can't believe the story has come to an end. Thank you everyone for the kind support and encouraging reviews for this story. It was bit of a toughie to get through, but I'm glad to see this has reached its end. Thank you to both of my betas Megan and Halley for a terrific job in helping this story come out the way it did. Thanks girls!

The only thing to point out in this is that there's a bunch of flashbacks spanning out periods of time. I put ellipses at the end of the paragraphs that indicates that some time will past after the memory shown. Hopefully it's not too confusing and everyone can easily pick up at what point of time it's at.

And… since I added a new room to Erik's torture chamber, I gotten the idea from Dracula 2000 as you will see the influence in a second.

Thank you all and please don't forget to review!

Chapter 18- Grasshopper or Scorpion?

The meaning of Erik's words automatically clicked in Raoul. Wide-eyed, he grabbed Kanye's sleeve. "He's going to kill her! He's going to kill her!"

"Hush! I know! Quiet or we'll be the ones in trouble," the detective said harshly. "Hurry, let's try and look for a mechanism that would lead us out of here."

Raoul nodded and furiously touched, pushed, and scanned for something. Kanye walked around, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary. He too, pushed on each wall and inwardly cursed when he couldn't hear what was going on. We're not going to be late, he told himself. We'll get to her in time.

Kanye had to admit the boy had guts for doing this. It was evident that Raoul de Chagny really felt for Christine Dawson, possibly even loved her. The devotion was touching and reminded him of his younger days when he won over his wife. But never did he have to go to this extent for a girl, and he gave de Chagny points for it.

"Any luck?" the owner called.

"No." And both worked vigorously. Finally, the dark-skinned man found something that might be helpful. High up on the southern wall was a strangely looking chuck of rock in shape of a button of sort. Kanye couldn't reach it and neither could Raoul. But…

"Monsieur! I think I found our exit."

Raoul turned around to see the Iranian pull out his pistol, pointing it at the wall and fired. The bullet hit its target but didn't open the wall attached to.

Spikes pop out from the walls, missing the men by inches. They looked around, relaxing somewhat. Then a chilling low groan reached their unsuspecting ears and made them turn their heads. A spiked board came hurdling behind them, heading straight for Kanye.

Mortified, Raoul screamed out, "KANYE!"

The detective froze, not blinking as the sharp daggers pierced through him, coming out the other end. Blood gushed out, spraying the neighboring pikes and stone.

Breathing harsh, Raoul stared in horror at the impaled officer, tears stinging his eyes. "No!" he moaned, and went to rush over, only to stop as another groan echoed.

He rolled on the ground, his leg grazed by the spike, but not enough to cause severe damage. Hissing in pain, he clutched his thigh, and fell against the only spike-free wall—the one where he heard Christine's agonizing cries from.

"Holy shit," Raoul panted, shaking his head crazily. "No, no, no!"

The bulging eyed detective gaped at the young man, blood trickling down his lip, chest, and all over. He hadn't had the chance to move out of the way.

Raoul's upper torso heaved as he tried to breathe, only to scream out as a loud buzzing ruptured his hearing.

He slammed his hands against his head, yet it grew louder and unbearable. Raoul fell to his knees, his sight blurring and spinning, but the burning and ringing would not stop.

Silence and calmness followed shortly after.

xxXXxx

All was still and quiet.

He opened his eyes, flinching as his eardrums screamed his vision hazy and distorted. His head hung low, chin tuck into his throat, too tired to lift to see where he was. Then slowly, he began to regain some feeling in his body, starting from the tingling in his hands to the throbbing of his legs. He tried to move his arms and hands, biting his tongue as an acute jab shot through his body, his wrists raw and most likely bleeding from shackles bound to the underground wall.

Everything was sore, everything was dark, and Raoul wondered if he was in Hell.

A gentle, soft lullaby caressed his ears, lessening the pain. Raoul was too weak to look for the source and began to succumb to the comforting sounds. As blackness covered his blue eyes, he scarcely heard the cries and protests from a woman…

He was but a young lad of eight years. A strapping gentleman, primly dressed and cleaned, walking alongside his governess by the sandy shores of the Swedish village his family were staying in for the summer.

He paused long enough to hear a girl's squeal of laughter and looked up to see a beautiful girl, no older than six, twirling in the wind, her curly golden locks and a bright red scarf spinning around her. A smile was brought to his face as he stared at the little pixie in her childish play. The soft breeze suddenly turned rapid and her scarf was ripped from her throat, flying towards the sea.

She cried out in despair, her feet running only to stop by the waters edge. Without thinking, he took off into the freezing sea, grabbing the prized possession of the girl's. Swimming maddeningly, he returned to shores, handing the scarf back to the dazzling angel, her crystal blue eyes glistening with awe and sincerity….

The rushing flow of icy, murky water. Air rapidly fleeting as the room was being flooded, a trick done by none other than Erik, her Angel of Music, the Voice that she claimed to have been visited. The fiend was real and had her in his clutches, doing Heaven knows what to the innocent girl he had so fallen in love with.

The Persian was shouting, though the words were barely registering as he saw the water level rise. Fear paralyzed him as the shivery water encased him. He would fail her. He would fail before he had the chance to rescue the fair Damsel in distress from the vicious villain. Such a fool. His end was coming; judgment was getting closer as he took the first gulps of the vile underground lake, his nose and eyes burning. All he could think of was her as darkness consumed him…

Consciousness was frequent, lasting a minute before falling back into the oblivion. A sweet sound cocooned him, urging him to wake and fight. His throat was sore, his eyes bloodshot yet he was alive. He had defeated death and all because of an angel singing, talking to him, and pleading for him to open his eyes.

There she was, flushed and teary-eyed, but thankfully no harm from what he could see. She was a divinely martyr, an image of innocence in a torn wedding gown, and as she watched over him with content, there was a troubling sadness in her. One he could not identity…

Their wedding was quickly conducted in her room; for she would not leave, and despite her pleas for help to the senile priest, everything was kept silent for the poor dear was suffering from delusions after the dreadful encounter with her kidnapper. She was ill and he would take care of her. Now and forever…

Night has come. Once more he would have her, his darling wife, his loving songbird! He loved her, oh how he loved and cherished her! Their souls were bound according to the Lord and he'll prove to her once more he was the only man who would ever love her.

Thrust! Thrust! Thrust!

Her wails and sobs were unnoticed by him; long ago he had assumed her rejections were of shyness and maidenly modesty. Her strong religious ties would make her feel wicked for her wifely duties, but he will prove she should have no shame in their love. For she was his! His! His!

Yet she called for his rival and as much as it pained him to hear, he assured himself the fiend's spell was still upon her and there was no cure from the wretched man's influence. If only he could free her…

The illness he had so believed in had finally taken over his Christine, her heart no longer fighting for the happiness she must have known with him. In her dying hour, she wept for him. For his misunderstanding, his confusion, and his madness that has took him.

He watched her die before his very own eyes. He watched the once youthful liveliness fade from her rosy cheeks and sparkling irises. He watched the warm, softness of her skin grow to cold white. Seeing her in death brought his sense back and he mourned for the life he had stolen.

That same night he locked himself away in his study. His grief was so powerful and his heart torn into pieces. He was a monster. A monster. He was no better than the man named Erik.

He took his pistol and placed it in his mouth.

The bang echoed throughout the household.

xxXXxx

Raoul screamed in agony.

Tears pricked Christine's eyes as she watched her love go through the same torture as she did. Looking at Erik, she glared at him in spite, her lips snarling. He was the one who claimed he loved her, yet he brought suffering to her and the ones she loved.

She had thought Raoul was dead when Erik brought him out from his torture room, but was relieved to find him alive as he regained consciousness. She knew he would come for her. He had to. She held onto hope that he would know where to go. Deep down, she knew he had to know of a path.

As Raoul cried out in pain, she squeezed her eyes and forced to look away. A tear trickled down her cheek and was wiped away by a cool, thin finger. She forced to open her eyes to look up at the pained expression of Erik's countenance.

"Don't cry, my love. I hate it when you cry."

"Then stop torturing him!" she cried, her tears falling.

He remained rigid and unfazed by her outburst. "Stop?" he echoed, briefly gazing at the boy. "As you wish." He walked over and raised a hand to slap him hard across the cheek. Christine yelled out but the blow silenced Raoul as his body went limp.

With a smug smirk, Erik raised his brow in Christine's direction, bowing mockingly. "I have done as you requested ma petite."

She bit her tongue, though that didn't quiet her. "If you can do that then you can let the both of us go. We won't bother you ever again."

Erik shook his head, the corpse's face twisted in a gruesome smile. "I'm afraid I cannot do that and you know it. Too long I've waited in this tomb and I will not give in so easily to your tears. We are bound, Christine, through a promise; a promise of which you made to Erik here in this very room. I remember very well of your tearful good-bye and the sweet, maidenly kiss upon my carcass forehead. Our tears flowed together when we parted but now we will have all of eternity to share our love."

"You're sick," she spat. "Completely out of your mind!" And with that, she struggled with her bonds as her back scratched against the rough surface on which she laid. "If you love me as you say do, then you will at least untie me!"

At this, Erik sadly dissented. "I may be not of the living, but Erik does have his memories of the last time. No. You will stay as you are until the time has come and your promise is fulfilled."

He took great strides over and tenderly caressed her curly tresses. "One time I could feel the silkiness and now I can't," he lamented, his tone taking on a faraway quality. "How I long to feel the warmth that was never in my grasp…" he continued his harangue, almost forgetting that another was among them.

Raoul's loud moan snapped Erik from his entranced ministration. His amber eyes flared and hardened as he whirled around to face the awaking owner.

His vision was still distorted but Raoul's retinas were able to focus clearly in certain areas. He could make out, a tall silhouette looming over him, two bright dots of fire glowering at him. At first, he was thinking he had died and this was Lucifer. Now as his mind was breaking away from the previous horrible images, Raoul realized who he was seeing was no Lucifer.

The Phantom of the Opera. A man once known as Erik.

His eyes bulged at the ominous ghost before him. This was the infamous spirit that had killed Cat, Brolin, and probably many others. This was the spirit of the man formerly loved by his ancestor. And this was the spirit who had kidnapped his Christine.

The intimidating specter took a step forward towards him. His disarrayed of yellow teeth bared in an ill grin as he lowered his death face to his. Raoul choked from the overriding stench and stretched his neck out away for air, finding none. His struggle only broadened the accursed man's grin.

"Alas you've awaken from your beauty sleep! Pray, how was it? I hope my choice of accommodating your weary body was comfortable."

He tossed his head back and laughed cruelly. "Not much to your liking? The next best would be the coffin, but that is Erik's bed!"

The living apparition found the remark amusing as he continued his chuckles much to Raoul's disgust. He pulled on his bondages, wincing from the pain shooting down his arms. His discomfort further Erik's mirth.

"I try to be a hospitable host. But you, sir, try my patience!" The address was spit with venom. "Why must you pursue Erik? What has Erik ever done to you? You claim to be honest, true to your word, a gentleman, if I recall, but you so rudely broke into my home. Not once but twice! You and that nosy daroga! How you tremble! You fear Erik, I can feel it. Yet it's your fault you make Erik break his promise.

"I hate to inflict pain though you, sir, leave me no choice! I know why you're here. You're going to save Christine from the intolerable monster. My Christine! She has chosen me! Me! The ring Erik has here was given to her, long ago, but she gave it back so she could return and wear it once more as my wife. The bride has wanted Erik. She has come willingly to Erik-- in her dreams and once on the Communists' Road. You stopped her before she went into my arms! She loves me!"

The outburst caused Raoul's head to snap up and looked hard at the Phantom. For the first time, he realized this wasn't an ordinary ghost found in the movies. He was very solid in appearance and much taller for comfort. And as Erik said, a gleaming golden ring shone on his skeletal finger. But that didn't excuse his entire countenance composed of lunacy and loathing, even though that was enough to convince him what Erik said couldn't be true.

Raoul knew Christine. She wouldn't "willingly" go to some ghost in the sake of love. Surely, this was a raving from this deluded psychotic ghost. The ring, however, only fueled this crazed belief. It couldn't be true.

Erik scowled when Raoul did not answer. "You do not believe Erik? Well, ask her yourself!"

He moved out of the way for him to finally see her. Raoul's eyes widened as he saw his girlfriend sprawled on top of a slab of hard granite; her hands were above her head in cuffs like him. Though he bet they weren't cruelly tight as his were. But nonetheless, seeing her so helplessly chained, Raoul flew into a rage.

The Phantom, nonchalantly, watched as the young man flailed and screamed all sorts of profanities at him. This would be expected of a lover. And both were the lovers of the darling singer before their eyes.

"Ah, 'tis true," the ghost drawled, his golden eyes glinting deviously. "Isn't that correct, my darling?"

He then turned to the soprano, her hazels filled with anger and disgust. She knew her actions were misinterpreted and any wrong doing on her part would cause Erik to lose his temper and potentially harm Raoul physically and mentally. She couldn't have it.

Christine turned her head so she had eye contact with her boyfriend. His ocean blue irises were pleading that what Erik said wasn't true, but she tried sending him a message that this was for both of their safety and hoped he would forgive her if they were to make it out.

No words were needed and Raoul de Chagny lowered his face. The response elicited a delighted contortion of the death's head as he laughed shrilly.

"Don't be so glum, mon ami," Erik said, emphasizing the friendly recognition with condescension. "Though, you now know what poor Erik had endured for so many years! Yes, the Angel has wanted me! And I cannot deny her yearnings no longer. She will belong to me, de Chagny. Mark my words. But I want you to experience forthwith the heartache this dark angel went through when you had the pleasure of leaving with her."

Erik's intention didn't fall on deaf ears and the young couple stared aghast at him.

Raoul's own eyes were blazing with a ferocity that would have dueled Erik's. His voice was cold as he gritted between his teeth, "She will never be yours! Christine Daae has been long dead!"

This led to an erupted roar from the Phantom. He lunged at the man, wrapping his very thinly fingers around his throat. Christine cried out but that didn't tear him away from his rival.

"Do not speak of her!" he snarled, squeezing harder. "For she does live! She calls for me and I am the only one who can hear her pleas! She wants to be set free to be with her dear Erik! She promised!"

Raoul sputtered but didn't falter, by no means wanting to gratify his weakness to his opponent. As hard he fought, he couldn't even deny the loss of oxygen rendering his coloring to purple. Erik's grip was surprisingly strong and to Raoul's horror, one of his digits had disappeared into his skin.

He gasped as he felt a sharp prod to his voice box. Erik's grim visage held his look as he smirked smugly.

"I have not completely lost my senses," the Phantom spat. "I may not be part of the mortal race with a working mind and organs, but I have been fortunate to understand my limitations and stretches in my existing form. For I can control whether or not I allow any part of myself to be solid or…" and he pushed a bit on the larynx. "Transparent."

His voice had dropped for only to Raoul hear, as he continued his taunting. "I can be invisible if I should please and that's how Erik knew Christine was coming. And it was how I traveled away from the theatre. I knew of your liaisons with Signora Giovanni. Such a waste of talent in a whore of a woman," he chuckled. "But your lover had tried to kill my songbird. Oh yes 'twas no 'accident'. There was no excuse for such matters to go unpunished."

With no warning, Erik pulled his hands out and away from Raoul. Staring disapprovingly at him, Erik clicked his tongue in chastising. "I know all I needed to know about you. If you cared so much a hair on her, then Signora Giovanni would have been gone long before I intervened. Pity from a man who claims honesty is one of his highest values. For at least I did what was needed to be done on Christine's behalf."

He spun on his heel and glided over to a table. Erik's hand grasped what was on top and turned.

A glittering dagger twirled around his finger, the object reflecting in his pupils. Erik took a step forward as Raoul instinctively coiled. "Pathetic," Erik whispered.

"STOP!"

Christine's voice pulled Erik's attention to her and quickly closed distance between them. "Yes?" he innocently inquired.

"No more!" she pleaded desperately. "Don't do this."

Her compassion was touching, but he couldn't be foiled again and not by the same woman. Instead, Erik chided her to be silent and cooed, "Erik will take care of everything, my sweet. It will be all right."

His quick dismissal of her didn't keep her quiet. "No Erik! Touch Raoul and I… I won't go to you willingly."

The boyfriend's groan filled the room, tugging at Christine's heart. She couldn't bear to watch Raoul die, nor could she allow the deadly game to continue.

It was now or never, even if meant she had to give up her own life. She would do that to save Raoul.

Erik studied her face as a hopeful twinge of his lips went up. "Y-you love me?" he asked in a whisper.

Christine nodded as she sobbed, "Yes! I always loved you! But you frightened me."

Precariously, he glanced at the knife and then to her, not knowing which master to yield to. Long last, he fixated on Christine, demanding, "You will come to me willingly if I do not harm the whelp?"

Again, she assented like a petulant child. "Yes Erik."

He lowered his face, as if to kiss her, but hissed, "Your words are useless. He will die, only then will you belong to Erik!"

"NO!" Christine shouted, mortified.

Erik drew back from her, gazing in forlorn. "It must be done, mon ange," he insisted as he shuffled over to the squirming owner.

Stopping inches away, Erik held the blade in front of his face, whisking the still air. Then, he brought the tip to the forehead, first caressing the skin as a would-be lover, trying to pacify the victim.

Raoul went stock rigid, biting his tongue drawing blood into his mouth. The rising of his chest was the proof for Erik to show he had the power over him.

The caressing then slid down his temple, grazing his cheek and the bridge of his nose. There Erik scratched the patch of skin, hitting the thick bone. Yet Raoul refused to make a sound as Christine wept for him.

"I could cut it off," Erik reasoned. "Perhaps your nose would take its place on my own missing one. I would be more handsome, heh?"

He took the tip and dragged down the flesh, spilling blood so it would dribble down his mouth. The path thus moved lower to his deep reddened lips, Erik stop mid-air, contemplating if he should slit them for tasting his living wife.

He did.

The cuts made weren't at all deep but enough to send pain shocks through Raoul's limbs. But he held his head high, staring defiantly at his torturer. The noble blood within dared not bow down to the ruthless demon before him. This held some amusement to Erik as he took the dagger up to be covered in de Chagny's blood and placed the blade into his mouth.

"Too rich for me," he grimaced from the taste and backed away from him. Erik stepped around Christine so Raoul could watch what he was doing. He winked at the lover and kissed the angel's forehead. "I promise, ma Cherie, it won't hurt for as long as you listen to Erik."

Christine thrashed her head to the side and kicked her legs at him. Her attempt was futile and Erik laughed. "You cannot hurt Erik. But, please, my love calm down! I don't want to hurt you."

Her form cowered as he clutched her white throat. His expression held no patience as too much time had passed already. He abandoned the knife to the floor as he put all of his power into strangling her with his bare hands.

"Christine!" Raoul screamed hoarsely. His unabashed eyes flooded with tears as her body's movement were starting to slow down. "No! Damn you to Hell! Goddamn you!"

He failed her. He failed her and Kanye. Raoul bitterly wept, his blood mixing with his tears. Why couldn't he save her? Why couldn't he save everyone? And to his realization, he had never told her how he loved her. Even if he were to say his feelings, Christine wouldn't hear. He had lost. He lost and Erik won.

"Raoul!" she called in a very weak and dry tone. Christine tried to fight but it was getting to be too much. Erik's fingers dug deeper and deeper. Dots were appearing before her eyes as she choked and wheezed; her body losing feeling all over.

With one last breathe, her eyes closed and didn't open.

Erik unraveled his hold, staring intently at her nonmoving form.

Raoul, as well, gaped at the woman, his unwanted fears and reality suffocating him. Gone. She was gone.

The Phantom hovered over her, his brow furrowed in confusion. All at once, her lids flew open.

"E-E-Erik!" she croaked, her hands rising up to embrace him. Erik, eagerly, unhitched the shackles around her delicate wrists. His illuminated orbs were glazed with love and happiness as he tenderly encased himself around her, then suddenly vanished, Christine's body landing hard on the stone.

Raoul had his eyes closed, not wishing to see her dead or Erik ravishing her. A breeze gently blew across his face and to his surprise, his chains were gone. Disbelieving, he rubbed his hands and gazed at the pinkish red color where the cuffs had him. What the--?

He looked up to see only Christine present with him. Erik was nowhere in sight.

Raoul scrambled over to her, clasping her hand. He found a weak pulse and let out a joyful whoop.

She was alive! She was alive!

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips, whispering, "I love you I love I love you."

There came a muffled cough and he looked down to see her struggle to open her beautiful eyes. A faint smile graced her crimson lips as he caressed her face.

Embracing her, not too tightly to cause her pain, Raoul murmured in her ear, "It's over."

TBC…