Author's Notes: My friends, we have come to the culmination of this tale, which I have been working on for nearly six months now. I pray that you enjoy, and of course, I still love your R&R.

Chapter 16 – In the Darkness of the Night

"You may kiss the bride."

Danielle blinked, pulling her eyes away from the dark night outside the church. Jacques and Nicola were smiling at each other, looking happier than she had ever seen either of them. She was surprised either of them could kiss, they were smiling so widely. She laughed and clapped with everyone as the couple left the church hand in hand, climbing into the carriage that would take them to the reception.

She dropped one hand from her small bundle of lilies and reached to shut the carriage door. Jacques laughed and put a hand out to stop her. "Danni," he said, his arm still around Nicola as he smiled at his sister, "you can go off to the Opera if you want."

"What?" she said, her hand frozen on the handle. Her brother chuckles and pulled the lilies from her other hand, chucking her lightly under the chin.

"I know you want to, go ahead."

"But it's your wedding—"

"Of course it is, which is why we're going to the reception. But you're my sister, Danni, and I want you to have fun on my wedding night. Go to the Opera, play some piano. You've been looking across the city towards it all night. Now go!" He laughed and placed a kiss on her cheek before pulling the door shut himself. Danielle stood on the steps of the Madeleine, staring off at the carriage with a small smile growing on her lips. The wheels suddenly stopped and Nicola leaned out of the carriage, her bouquet of roses in her hand. All of the women on the steps cried happily and threw up their hands to catch the lucky flowers.

Nicola shut her eyes and lofted the bouquet of white roses, just a few pink and red ones in the center, into the air before Jacques pulled her back into the carriage. One of the other bridesmaids stepped past Danielle to reach up her hand.

The ribbon holding the roses together suddenly pulled loose, and the bundle fell apart in midair. Flowers scattered everywhere, almost every bridesmaid and unmarried maiden managing to snatch one white rose out of the air.

The three lone red roses fell at Danielle's feet. No one really noticed as they hurried to carriages or cabs that the groom's sister bent down to tenderly pick up each crimson bloom and glance down the Rue Tronchet. Lifting her white skirt, she pulled a key from the pocket of her cloak and slipped away from the warm light into the embracing velvety darkness.

---

The pristine snow glistened faintly on the rooftop, fresh flakes falling to powder the world below. It decorated the court of marble figures, feathering the Pegasus wings and dusting Apollo's mighty shoulder uplifting his lyre to the falling heavens. The cold wind stirred it in little eddies as it fell, an isolated waltz quickly left behind. In that world of white, overlooking the soft glow of the city of lights, the deep red of the rose was nearly lost. It lay fallen in the snow, slipped from a pale hand, slowly letting the snowfall blanket it in white. Two other lay near it, each spilled like a drop of blood on the snow from the same slender, shivering hand.

The one rose she held was old, the frail faded petals cupped delicately in her hands. The black silk ribbons still gleamed faintly as the wind wound it around her fingers, lifting her hair. Her white gown did little to stop it, but the tiger's cloak draped about her shoulders stirred lazily, as if only idly interested in the faint wind.

Danielle held the blossom close to her lips, breathing in the almost lost damp, subterranean fragrance of that world by the lake. She had been almost afraid to return through the mirror with the keys, loath to return to that silence that seemed to crush and suffocate her. But she had seen the rose, still sitting on the sheets where she had left it

all those months ago, after Erik had left her Aminta's dress and their score. How had she not seen it when she was there with Francois and Nadir?

She held it tenderly, now, closer to her breast. The tight knot in her throat pulled a little more snug, but Danielle stifled her gasp for breath. She had no need for tears. But she couldn't help a few that slid past her lashes, falling like dew on the rose's fragile petals as her grip on the stem tightened. She forced her other hand open, dropping the key as if the little bronze scorpion had stung her.

It had just been so silent, so empty, when she went back. She felt like such a child, afraid of being alone in the dark. The lake should have been as permeated with music and mystic wonder as a winter morn was filled with mist, but it had only been still, drops of water apologetically dripping somewhere far off as she poled the boat back across the unmoving surface. Before, even if there had been no sound, the silence had been a tangible sense of anticipation, a sustained rest that was only waiting for one of them to strike a key…

She could almost hear the notes rising off the strings of his violin…

"Mon Dieux, what's the point?" she asked, tilting her head back and opening her snow-laces lashes to the sky. She laid her hand over her satin-clad middle absently. It still hurt, every once in a while. The doctors had said she had hemorrhaged, that she would unlikely ever successfully bear a child now. That's what they attributed her few moments when she would let her loss overtake her. But they didn't know. How could they know?

What hurt was that Erik's hand wasn't there to be beneath hers. Her hand crept to the neck of her gown and gently drew the chain up. The thick ring strung upon it had become a familiar weight around her neck. She rolled it against her fingertips, watching the gleaming reflection of the city lights. She had bought it the day she had left the hospital. It was always about her neck now, hidden beneath her dress. "He was going to ask," she murmured, smiling faintly at it. By now it was a comforting thought as the gold band weighed in her palm. The thick, darkly gleaming metal reminded her of that night by the firelight, of the warmth of rich hot chocolate. Of his arms around her.

She was so lost in her thoughts, in the golden lights glimmering past Apollo's wings, that she never heard the imperceptible sound of the rooftop's door closing.

---

He ghosted down the few steps from the door, his shoes never making a noise, his thick cloak only barely whispering in the gentle wind. He might as well have been one of the marble figures, a part of the Opera, for all that the night noticed him. It never minded that he didn't wear his mask, letting the breeze stroke his face.

Erik never even glanced to the sill of the skylight, never expected to see her sitting by it waiting. He had given up hope of fantasies coming true like that.

He had seen her at the wedding. Danielle had looked beautiful in her white gown, more breathtaking than the bride herself, at least in his eyes. She had been resplendent, as beautiful as the white lilies she held, like the snow even now falling around him.

She should have been holding roses, he thought, his eyes falling on the deep red bloom lying draped in snow. He frowned slightly before kneeling beside it, picking the blossom up in his gloved hands. He had always loved roses for some reason. Perhaps it was the softness, the delicacy, of the flower's petals, nestled among so many barbed thorns. As if it were trying to protect itself from a world that meant it no harm.

There had been red roses in the bride's bouquet. He had never really understood the wedding music before now. Erik had crept silently up the steps of the Madeleine, unseen in his dark cloak against the night. Golden light spilled through the windows, and he stepped to the very edge of the night undisturbed by the glow. The priest's words washed over him in a meaningless monotone as he saw Danielle, standing smiling at her brother.

She wouldn't be at the Opera tonight. She would be with him, her brother, like she should be. She wouldn't be here tonight. And he knew he couldn't stay.

The couple's vows had suddenly reached his ears with almost mocking sincerity as he stood, frozen at the steps and hidden in the darkness.

"I do," the boy said, smiling.

"I do," she replied, squeezing his hands.

Erik nearly bit his tongue when he realized he had been about to echo them. The two leaned toward each other and kissed as the organ rang out the wedding march again, and his eyes flew to Danielle. She was staring out the doors towards the night he stood cloaked in, her lips parted, and for a moment he almost dared to think that she saw him. But then she looked back at her brother, at the married couple, and smiled. Erik drew back into the night, leaving the light and the wedding march behind. And now he was alone on the roof of the Opera, clutching a rose like so many years before.

He couldn't help imagining that it was Danielle and he before the altar and the statue of Lady Magdalene and her angels. His skin tingled faintly where the ring hung against his chest. He had come here looking for her, searching for the other half of his heart. Ever since his dream of Lady Justice, Erik had been unable to forget that night in Russia, the look in Danielle's eyes when she had seen the ring against his chest. How much he had longed just to ask…

He held the rose closer to his lips, his own version of the wedding song composing itself in his mind, and confided to it. "I do," he whispered, only wishing she could hear.

"—would have said yes." Erik's hand on the rose stilled. He was imagining again. He had to be. He lifted his head slowly, the breeze caressing his bare cheek as it coaxed him to look. Danielle turned back very slowly, standing from the sill of the skylight that turned her dress from white to pale gold.

"Erik?" she asked softly, the rose slipping from her fingers as she stared at him. He rose from his knee, the bloom he held falling away as well.

"Danielle." She was here. He took a step towards her, a disbelieving smile curling his lips. Her hair was loose from the pins she had worn, her hazel eyes bright with slowly blooming wonder.

She was…

…really…

…here.

Danielle cried out happily as he suddenly leapt up onto the sill and pulled her into his arms, holding her so close he might drown in her. She was on her tiptoes, her head over his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her neck. "Erik," she whispered, shutting her eyes as she desperately gasped in as much air as her lungs could hold. "Oh, Erik, Erik, Erik," she said over and over, nestling her face against his neck. The scent of rosin, of the sea, of him was there, filling her senses. She would gladly have held that air in her lungs until she died. His arms tightened around her as he buried his cheek in her hair, holding her as if he truly were drowning in the feel of her against him.

"You're here," he said beside her ear. She drew back, her eyes damp with unshed tears of joy. She pressed her hand against his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the strong bone before he took it and kissed her palm.

"You're not wearing your mask," she said, smiling.

"I don't need it," he said, never taking his lips from her skin. "Danielle," he murmured, "all I need is you." She smiled and stroked his cheek again, her thumb caressing every line, every contour. Erik shut his eyes, leaning ever so slightly into her hand.

"I love you, Erik."

"Love isn't a word strong enough," he said quietly, his hand rising to cover hers. Of course it wasn't. They were both creatures of music, of song, and bare words could hardly convey what either of them felt. The feel of her skin against his could have been a sonata to rival Beethoven himself. Erik shook his head again at the lack of words and gently pulled her hand away, opening his eyes to look down at her palm spread in his own. Her slender fingers twined in his as he stared at them, gently pulling off the leather gloves. Her hand was so soft in his as she laced her fingers intimately back through his again, her eyes never leaving his face. Erik rubbed his thumb over her skin, savoring the slightest touch. What made it so sweet, to gain something after you thought it had been lost forever?

"Danielle," he finally said, taking her hand to his chest. She blinked and stepped closer, if that were possible. "That night," he said, lifting his other hand to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers, "in Russia. I never was able to finish." The world fell silent around them again, holding its breath so that they could hear each other. Danielle's hand pressed against his chest as she felt his heartbeat, his hand tightening on hers. Erik took back his other hand and touched the chain beneath his collar, lifting it up until the little ring was free of his shirt. It was weightless now, when he had expected it to bear him down, and shone so flawlessly. "Danielle," he asked, his pale blues eyes gazing into hers, "would you marry me?"

Her other hand suddenly flew to the neck of her white dress to touch the chain about her own neck, and for the first time Erik realized what she wore as well. She smiled as he let go of her hand to brush the gold band, and then he laughed quietly. She wanted this.

She wanted him. "I've been waiting so long for you to ask that." The rings shone in the glow from the skylight beneath them as they both freed them from the chains.

Erik tenderly took her hand in his, slipping the ring over her finger. "Danielle, I vow to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, through the light of day and the dark of night, pains and joys, until death do us part." He paused, looking up from the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly, just as he had known it would, and she smiled. "If you will have me." It was her wistful smile, the one that she wore when she was happiest. Her eyes were more beautiful than ever when she looked up at him, squeezing his hand.

She shifted her hand in his so that she could place her band upon his finger. "Erik," she said, touching the band, "I vow to be your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, through suffering and delight, the warmest springs and the coldest winters, now unto forever. If you will have me."

Her hand shivered in his as he took it. Had he ever even dared to dream of this? This perfect euphoria was more than he could bear, more than he could put into words. How had he never understood the wedding march before? "Of course," he said, his words barely rising above his breath. Danielle's smile widened as she laughed.

"You're supposed to say, 'I do,'" she murmured, squeezing his hands. Erik smiled suddenly and leaned forward to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers. He could feel her breath against lips when he drew back the slightest. Euphoria, that was the word.

No, wait. Love. Yes, that was it. Love.

"I do," he said. He opened his eyes to stare at hers, so close that the color of her eyes reflected faintly in his.

"I do," she whispered back and kissed him again. His hand crept up to hold her cheek, and she slipped her hand around his neck to hold him close, the ring on her finger warm against his skin.

There was no organ playing the wedding march. There was no fanfare of triumphant symphonies. There was no choir proclaiming their joy to the heavens.

No Madeleine. No cathedral.

Just Apollo with his lyre, the snow drifting from the heavens, and their blood singing stronger and more joyfully than any voice ever could.

Just the Phantom and his Angel.

Le Fin

Author's End Notes: Dear gracious Lord, it's done! And yet, I'm slightly sad about it. (probably because now it means I'll have no excuse not to work on my school projects) I want to sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, thank each and every one of you readers who bothered to take the time to check me out and maybe leave a review or two. I love you all. big smoochy kisses It really made all the difference to me. So...thanks.

Oh, and BTW, this might not be the end of this fanfic idea for me. I still have some more ideas brewing for Danielle and Erik, so if you see them later, well, that's just them insisting to get out of my head and onto paper.