Yay for quick updates! The next chapter will be the last one, I believe. Anyway, most of the things get sorted out in this chapter. Don't worry, though – I´ll be starting a new phic soon, most probably. And I can tell you now, it won´t be like anything on this site. One hundred percent. :-)

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Chapter XXXVII

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"Raoul!" Christine exclaimed, unable to bite back the scream.

She wanted to rush forward and ask what he was doing here, but a cold hand grabbed hers swiftly, preventing her from making more than two steps. She was pulled back swiftly, almost bumping into Erik. She then noticed that the masked man was eying the man with distaste, at the very least.

Sure enough, there stood Raoul de Chagny, looking slightly tired, as if he had undertaken a long journey, but also determined, looking at Erik with suspicion and at Christine with caution.

"Christine, don't be afraid, everything will be over soon." Raoul said, with the tone she thought he might use if she were standing on the edge of a bridge, ready to hurl herself into the waters below. "Just stay back…I'll deal with this."

Christine gave him a confused look. "Deal with…what do you mean? You­… you followed me… us here?"

"For your own good! You were clearly terrified… and now I see why." The Vicomte slowly turned his gaze to Erik as he said this. "Unhand the lady, Monsieur – I daresay her fright shows that she doesn't desire your company. Let her go."

"Why, Monsieur, such a passionate plea, such spirited words!" Erik cried, eyes glittering maliciously. "But I daresay the Mademoiselle doesn't understand!" Christine looked at him with a slightly frightened little frown. "You see, Christine our young friend here has a taste for heroics and believes that he is about to rescue you from my evil clutches. What a drama, the perfect opera! I applaud you, Monsieur, for your sense of unnecessary dramatics!"

"Let her go!" Raoul repeated, somewhat less calmly.

He drew his sword just as Christine managed to tear herself from Erik's slightly lessened grip. She wanted to run to Raoul and explain to him that he had gotten it all wrong, that she couldn't have told him this because she would have been risking all of their lives and afterwards, in Paris, there hadn't been any time to tell, to explain. There hadn't been the courage, either.

She had managed to take only a few steps before stopping in horror. A snake-like rope had flied from behind her so quickly she had only spotted it by hearing the soft swooshing sound it made. Silvery in the moonlight, it was around Raoul´s neck within a second and it took only another move from Erik to fasten it strongly enough to knock the Vicomte off his feet, gagging.

"NO!" Christine screamed hysterically.

She spun on her heel, turning back to Erik, her eyes wide. She had seen this before and knew what was at stake. Still the similar scene she had unwillingly witnessed months ago occasionally haunted her.

"No, please! Don't do this, Erik, don't, I beg you!"

The rapier had fallen out of Raoul´s now almost limp hand. The Vicomte was on the ground, choking, attempting to inhale. Erik stood, almost casually, some meters away from him, holding the lasso in his hands elegantly, more than ready to perform the last move needed to kill the boy. He would have done it already, he wouldn't have wasted time knocking the boy to the ground, had he not been aware that Christine would probably resent him for disposing of her old friend.

At the sound of Christine's shriek, the door of Madeleine's house swung open and Marie Perrault hurried out, closely followed by a still sick-looking Madeleine. The former gasped and brought both hands to her mouth, muffing the sound. Madeleine only stared, first at the lasso, then at the almost unconscious Vicomte, then at her son. Erik paid them no heed. Christine rushed towards him, grasping his hands tightly.

"Don't do this, please! He didn't know, he doesn't understand! He means us no harm; I will tell him everything, please release him." She begged, her grasp weakening, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't kill him, Erik! You admitted believing in God, remember? God is merciful to all – he preaches that we are to forgive even those who wrong us! Please…"

Erik had been looking at the Vicomte the whole time and didn't look at Christine even when he withdrew from her grasp. Cat-like, he approached Raoul and swiftly, as if fearing contamination by the Vicomte, he released the noose and collected the lasso. However, he also collected the rapier Raoul had dropped.

"He will be slightly weakened for several minutes." Erik glanced at Madeleine, as if he had noticed her for the first time, standing there, watching him. The look he gave her wasn't mocking or full of anger. It was passive, telling her to look what had become of her son. It was, in Madeleine's eyes, worse than his previous cruel words. "We should take him into the house, or the whole village will be on their feet to see what has happened here."

"Thank you." Christine breathed and quickly went to help Raoul, who was breathing deeply, back to his feet. Erik only spared him a contemptuous glance before marching back into the house. Madeleine followed him, but Marie rushed to help Christine with the Vicomte.

"Christine." Raoul managed to gasp out. "Hurry… run… while you can…"

She shook her head solemnly. "No, my friend. I have given a promise to become his wife and follow him to the end of the world…"

"The man is mad, Christine! Such a promise can be broken – it means nothing when it's forced!"

"That's just the thing, Raoul. The promise isn't forced." With the help of Marie, Christine managed to aid Raoul in lying down on the sofa in the drawing room. The Vicomte was clearly trying to focus his gaze, still suffering from lack of oxygen. Erik, meanwhile, had seated himself in the same chair again and was staring determinedly into the fire, his eyes competing with the flames when it came to heat and flare.

Marie brought some more cushions for Raoul while Christine and Madeleine sat down, waiting for her to return. There was a great silence that didn't seem to be broken for an eternity. Finally, Erik, glaring into the fire one last time, turned around for a moment.

"His hearing is by no means hindered, Christine. You might as well proceed to explain, so that we may leave as soon as possible." He said darkly. Then he looked back into the fire. Of all the places he could have ended up, he was in a room in the house he loathed beyond recognition with his dear mother and the Vicomte de Chagny.

Christine began explaining things to Raoul, so Erik tuned out everything, even her words, just listened to the sound of her voice. The rest of the room was hanging on her every word, however, though there was some difference between their reasons. Madeleine alone seemed to be hardly blinking, but she wasn't looking at Christine all the time.

Erik, if he even noticed her gaze on him, pointedly ignored it. Had he been listening, Erik might have stopped Christine when she got too close to details to be comfortable. However, he allowed her to tell the tale as she saw it, without interruptions. Occasionally, Raoul seemed to want to object, but then he fell silent and disregarded whatever he meant to say.

By the time Christine had finished, even composing in his mind was not quite enough to draw Erik's attention away from his surroundings and the rest of the people in the room. He moved to stand up, but Madeleine had slowly moved towards his chair and reached out as if to take his hand, but then stopped inches away, as if burned. Erik turned to her, seeing her frozen, waiting for an approval that he wasn't willing to give.

Quid pro quo.

"Don't leave, please… not yet." Madeleine said softly, quite unlike the usual shrill and angry voice he remembered from his childhood. "Please don't run from me again, Erik."

"What do you want from me, Mother?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing underneath the mask. "Forgiveness? A new chance? I'm not God – I don't give second chances to infidels. Don't ask for something you know I won't give."

"Where… where have you been all these years? Where have you disappeared to? Why did you run?"

"All over the world, with gypsies who paraded me around in a cage when they caught me, then when I killed my owner, on my own." He snapped cruelly, taking no notice of Christine and Marie, who both clasped hands over their mouths, or Raoul, who looked horrified, but in a way, not surprised.

"Studying in Rome, performing across Asia, building in Persia. I returned to France recently. And to answer your last question: because you hated me and I hated you. We were kind enough to inform each other of that some years ago, weren't we? And you were going to be happy with him, so I gave you the chance. You ignored it. That you are still here and are what you are is your fault alone."

"I rejected him, I realized I had been a fool!" Madeleine cried suddenly, "When he left, I came to tell you that we would burn all masks! I wanted us to be a family at last! I… I realized that I love my child and won't give him up."

Abruptly, Erik stood up, pushing his mother out of the way. "Christine, you've done what you wanted to. Let us be off before this continued melodrama brings my temper over the edge."

Christine stood up, slightly shakily, but walked towards him. Seemingly, because he saw that she turned her attention to Madeleine. She gently took the older woman by the hand.

Madeleine looked at her with a strange fear and fascination at the same time. Such physical similarity and yet, psychically, they were different completely!

She could only wonder how this girl, young as she had been when she had given birth to her first and only child, could be able to leave the cage of what most people called common sense and devote her life and love to a man such as Erik.

She herself had never managed that in this loving way, having been too afraid, too angry at times to manage to see that while his ugliness might be unworldly, everything else about him was unworldly, compensating that in the positive sense of the word. This girl not only saw that and learned to love him but also managed to make him feel love for her, something Madeleine was quite sure few others have ever achieved.

"Give us your blessing, please, Madame, so that we may part in peace." The girl said humbly, as if speaking to a priest. "We will come again, or at least, I will, to see if you need anything. I know your son well enough to say that it will take much time for him to forgive you – perhaps he never will – but I asked him to come here so that the past could be laid to rest."

Madeleine was silent for a moment, overwhelmed. She then embraced Christine impulsively. Christine stiffened for a moment, then calmed down.

"I bless you, child, who has been heaven-sent. May you have more strength, patience and wit than I did when I had the chance to do what is right."

"Your farewells are worthy of an opera." Erik noted dryly from behind as Christine withdrew, taking a step back. He looked at Raoul, who sat up, still dizzy.

"Monsieur de Chagny, I advise you to lie down for at least an hour and not ride horseback until you regain your balance. Mademoiselle Perrault." He nodded to Marie. "You're the only one whom I offer my apologizes for saying that I sincerely hope that I don't see any of you again. Christine?"

Nodding, Christine took the arm offered to her and, with a brief farewell, allowed herself to be led out of the house.