Thank you as always for the amazing support. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun to write without it. There should be only one more chapter and an epilogue after this one. As there are so many varying opinions, it's impossible to have an ending that everyone wanted. Although both negative and positive comments are encouraged, I do hope that you don't judge the entire story by its ending. But, like I said, say whatever you feel.

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When Christine finally opened her eyes to the sight in front of her, she felt her heart constrict in pure horror. The gun was now lying on the pavement, tossed to the side as if it were nothing. Erik was holding Raoul up nearly two feet over the ground, both hands tightly wrapped around the base of his neck. Her friend had begun to gag and squirm in pain, kicking his feet and turning a grotesque shade of purple from lack of air. If the hands tightened their hold even an inch, the bone would be cleanly snapped. Looking behind his tormentor, Raoul gave Christine one last desperate look. "Run," he weakly mouthed to her.

She did the only thing she could. Clutching her hands to the side of her head, Christine screamed.

"Don't! Please! Please don't. Don't! Don't, Erik! I'll do anything! Don't!" Between her tears and sobs, she continued to beg, her voice growing hoarser with each plea. "Please don't. Don't...don't...don't..."

From the distance, she saw Erik's shoulders stiffen at her fading cries. She watched as Raoul's eyes finally closed, and his body went limp from oxygen deprivation. Her mouth fell agape, and she felt her legs nearly give way from beneath her. "No," she choked out, clutching the side of the apartment complex for support. "Please no..."

As soon as Raoul became motionless, Erik suddenly released his grip on the neck and let his body fall to the ground with a thud. He turned around to face her, his yellow eyes full of anger and torment. Christine stared back at him with her lips pursed in anguish and her breath coming in short gasps.

"He is merely unconscious," Erik stated through what sounded like gritted teeth. She quickly looked down to the ground to see that her friend's chest continued to rise and fall. A reddish tint was returning to his cheeks. Erik continued to speak, his voice cold and calm. "Whether he lives tonight will depend on your cooperation, my dear. If you again attempt to betray or defy me...to question me in any way, the boy will die."

She rapidly bobbed her head up and down, feeling some relief overtake her. The earth stopped spinning beneath her feet. "Yes," Christine frantically replied. "I understand. I promise I won't run. We can go. I promise."

After giving her one last glance, Erik grabbed her friend beneath the arms and dragged him forward, acting as though he weighed ounces. She quickly followed behind, wincing as Raoul was roughly taken down the concrete steps. Still, color continued to return to his flesh. He was alive! Erik had not done the unthinkable! After everything, he was live!

She had no more time to think, racing down the steps and following Erik into the familiar sitting room. He continued into his chambers and opened the hidden gray door with a key, no longer concerned that she would attempt to run from him. Christine watched, her heart racing in worry that Erik would take his explosive anger out on her friend. She prayed that he would calm down and listen to her words of explanation. Now that she knew Raoul was still alive, her hatred and despair had faded, leaving her with a desperation to fix this mess. Please let him listen to her!

Still, Erik's rage continued to reign supreme. He turned to face her, eyes still flaring with hatred and jealousy. "Perhaps if I pour this onto his face," he growled, "I will be on more even terms with your lover, no?" Erik took a glass vial off the counter and raised it threateningly over Raoul's mouth and nose. "If he had no flesh, worse than a death's face, would you love me?" he rasped, violently shaking the yellowish liquid.

Her eyes widened, but she tried to stay calm, praying she could reach him. "Erik," she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "Please don't do that. It's not..." Christine choked. "It's not about that. Please don't. Please listen to me."

"Oh, I have listened to your lies long enough, my dear!" he hissed. "Just think...the acid would eat his skin...and there would be nothing left of his perfect features. Would you still love him, then? Would you!?"

"Erik, please!" she cried. "Please listen. I..."

"Go pack!" he screamed, fists clenched and skeletal frame shaking in rage. Raising the glass bottle, he violently hurled it into the opposite wall. She jumped as the glass shattered into hundreds of tiny shards, and the yellow liquid streamed down the white paint and onto the floor. After dropping Raoul to the ground and shutting the door to the room, he whirled to face her. "Unless you wish your lover dead, go ready yourself. Change out of the black dress. I will not have my bride looking as though she is ready for a funeral! We leave in one hour! You will come with me! You will marry me! Go!"

Obediently, she turned around and flew back into her bedroom. From behind her, she heard the piano begin to play a loud, angry melody; a staccato sound that was almost painful to listen to. With trembling hands, Christine numbly began to gather up some of the clothes from the hangers, placing them inside of a suitcase she had found in the closet. Tears rolled down her cheeks, pooling at the corners of her mouth. Everything had become so completely wrong. She felt helpless, too small and meek to fix this nightmare...to reach him through his madness. She was pathetic and weak, too afraid to make her own choices without someone there to hold her hand.

Christine sat on the floor and buried her head into her knees. All she ever did was run away. Nothing she did was ever right. Nothing.

No. That wasn't completely true.

Through blurry eyes, Christine looked up and saw the shimmering diamond bracelet lying on the dresser, the one that Erik had given her before she left. It dawned on her at that moment. Twice that evening, she had diverted Erik from his path of destruction. At the opera house, she had stopped the explosives from going off and killing hundreds. She had saved Raoul's life that night. In fact, why had Erik not killed her friend from the beginning? Maybe he had somehow known it would destroy her...and anything that was left between them. Whatever the reason, she knew that Raoul was alive because of her.

In some way, she was able to reach through and touch some human part of Erik's mind. She bit her lip and stared into space for a moment, gathering what was left of her shattered nerves. Before they both descended into madness, she would fix this tonight. Or at least she would try.

Christine set down the white blouse she had started to pack and quietly emerged from the bedroom. The piano had stopped playing, leaving all the rooms in complete silence, save for the ticking clock. She continued to pad barefoot across the carpet, ignoring the eerie stares of the figurines as she passed. Finally, she found him still in his dim chambers, facing the wall with his masked forehead leaning into his right hand. He didn't acknowledge her presence. Her shoulders tensed as she approached, and she braced herself for another storm.

"Erik." Her voice came out weaker than she meant it to be.

"Why aren't you packing?" he hoarsely whispered.

She swallowed and held her ground. "You have to understand that I wasn't trying...I wasn't going to leave."

"Your lies do not matter now. Go pack your things. We leave soon. Unless you wish his life to end, do as I say."

"Please listen to me. It doesn't have to be like this. You're scaring me right now...and I..."

"I have a fine habit of doing that!" he hissed, whirling around to face her. "Now do as I wish!"

"Erik," she pled, forcing herself not to take a step backwards. "I thought you'd killed him. But you didn't, and I'm...grateful that..."

The mention of Raoul only served to anger him more. "I will kill him if you do not get in there and ready yourself to leave. Now!"

He wasn't letting her finish, staring down at her with rage and daring her to defy him. If Erik was pushed, she had no doubt that he would harm her friend. There was such desperation in his two glowing eyes, as though he were still afraid she would attempt to run. So much was built on fear...

She was silent for a moment, ignoring every ounce of reason that told her to run back into her bedroom and hide like a child. Giving up on spoken words, Christine slowly reached out and tightly grasped his two cold hands with her own. Entwining her fingers into his, she hesitated before gazing up at him. Her heart throbbed quickly beneath the black dress, and she wondered if he would violently push her away. How many times would she have to try before giving up...before it was declared useless? But if she could reach what was left of his humanity, as she had two times before, maybe...maybe there was hope. "Please," she whispered.

Erik didn't push her away. His narrow shoulders tensed, and his eyes continued to beam with anger. Still, he grasped onto her hands for several seconds in silence, and some of the rage seemed to dissipate, slowly replaced with wary uncertainty. The blanket of quiet repaired more than anything she could have said.

After several moments, as he had done only a week before, Erik slowly brought her hands up to his masked face. Taking both of them into one of his palms, he brought his free hand up to the bottom of the black porcelain. Erik hesitated, waiting to see if she would run from him. Christine looked on, her blue eyes lighting up a little at the direction events were taking. Continuing to watch her reaction, he lifted the lower portion of the mask, revealing the pale, twisted mouth she had never forgotten. Taking her hands, he raised them upward and closed his eyes, before touching her slender fingers to his lips.

She found them cold and dry to the touch, but not unpleasant. He held her hands there for several seconds, his eyes still peacefully shut as he savored the contact. "My bride," Erik softly stated as he finally released her. He started to set the mask back into place. She reached up and lightly grabbed his thin wrists, her own small hands easily fitting around them.

"Wait. Please..." She had wanted her second trial for some time. Why not now...before they left together forever? There was so little to lose that night, and almost everything to gain.

Erik froze, both hands still holding the mask. "You should go pack," he stated, the anger gone from his voice. "We will leave soon."

"I know. I will. But...please. If we're going to be married soon, then I want to be able to. Let me."

It felt strange to say that....married... But maybe it was no stranger than anything else that had happened in those last months. She was no longer afraid. With her friend alive, nothing had been permanently broken. There was genuine hope now.

"No matter what you see," Erik began. "...how horrified and repulsed you are...you are still bound to your promise. Perhaps it is better for you to pretend there is something else beneath."

"No. Please let me see. I don't want to pretend anymore. I'm tired of pretending." She held her breath and waited. A small part of her was afraid that she would want to run away again.

Erik paused, before slowly nodding, perhaps also realizing that there was nothing left to lose. "If it pleases my wife." He untied several transparent strings with both hands and slowly removed the entire mask, thereby revealing the catastrophe that was his face. Christine stared into the two dark sockets for a moment...the grey and yellow mottled flesh that was lined with veins...the lack of nose. It was as terrible as it had always been, something from a horror movie, even. After everything that had passed, though, the thought of running and screaming seemed absurd. She smiled a little, feeling strange relief that she was able to look without fear...even without turning away.

As Erik saw that she wasn't going to fall over dead from the sight of him, his shoulders relaxed. A little shiver ran through her as he gently brought a hand up to her cheek, both from the outer cold sensation and an inner warmth. "I would give you anything," he softly stated. "Anything...Christine."

"I know," she murmured, choking back several tears. Taking her hand, Christine placed it over his, transferring her heat into the icy skin. They stood there like that for several moments, time freezing around them in the dim little room. She glanced up as Erik started to pull his hand away, observing the deep longing in his hollowed eyes. An impulse overtook her, a need to console and connect-to bring both of them peace and resolution that night. "Erik."

Raising herself to the tips of her toes, she gently grasped onto his bony shoulders with her hands and drew forward. Erik's arms lay limply at his sides, one hand still clutching onto the mask. Christine felt him completely freeze beneath her, as she tilted her head and slowly pressed her warm lips to his. The kiss wasn't long or terribly deep...perhaps only lasting a couple of seconds, but it was an intimate meeting of flesh nonetheless. She swore she could feel his heart beating beneath her own. Both closed their eyes, drowning in those untouchable moments of human contact.

She felt dampness on her cheek and wondered if she'd begun to cry again. Slowly drawing back from the kiss, Christine saw that the moisture came from the two sunken eyes. Erik was staring down at her and silently crying. He seemed unsteady on his feet, leaning back into the wall with a heavy sigh. Feeling her own eyes grow blurry, Christine bravely stepped forward and took his free hand, a small smile lighting her flushed face. "It's fine now," she softly stated, finally believing her own words. "Everything is fine."

Erik continued to stare down at her, still somewhat in shock, and slowly nodded. A haunted look entered his eyes, an awakening, and he momentarily released her hand and quickly tied the mask back onto his face. She continued to gaze up at him, preparing to turn around and begin packing again at his request. After the porcelain was secured, he reached out and gently touched her hair with his fingertips, before bringing his hand down and again entwining their fingers together. Erik then began to walk forward, leading her without looking back. She smiled through her tears, wondering if he was taking her to the piano. Perhaps he wanted her to sing a final song before they left together...a prelude for a new beginning.

Christine narrowed her eyes in confusion as he led her past the ornate instrument and toward the hidden gray door in the back of the room. Removing a silver key from his suit pocket with his free hand, he quickly unlocked it with a click and opened it. After taking a glance at Raoul to ensure that he was still breathing, she looked back to see Erik pick up something off the counter.

For several long seconds, he was silent, his gaze on the floor and his thin shoulders heaving with deep breaths. He then spoke in a strangely distant voice.

"Hold these beneath his nose for several seconds. He will immediately awaken, although it may take him time to gather himself. The front door will be unlocked, and the car is still out front. The driver will be instructed to take you wherever you wish...someplace secure for the night. Perhaps his home."

Christine blinked in confusion, looking back and forth between the two other people in the room. "What?" she murmured. "I don't understand."

Erik closed his eyes, and his cold grasp around her hand tightened. Then, staring down at her with nothing less than adoration, he finally released his grip and backed away, as if knowing that being so near would make the task impossible. "It ends now," he whispered. "You see...the finale came tonight, after all." He closed his eyes again. "And what a glorious finale it was..."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "But I—"

"Leave, Christine," he hoarsely interrupted. "Reclaim all that has been taken. Forget everything that has occurred on this night...for these months. Go."

"Why?" It was the only word she could get out of her mouth.

"Because you are free now." After giving her one last lingering glance, he swiftly turned away from her and left the room, leaving the door half way open for them to make their final departure. Christine stared at the spot where he had stood for several seconds. The sound of Raoul's quiet breathing was the only other noise in the room.

Kneeling down to the floor in a daze, she touched her friend's cheek. The skin was warm, and his breath was steady. Erik hadn't restricted his oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage. Outside of the soreness from the purple bruises that ringed his neck, he would soon be fine.

Why? Why now, Erik?

He still didn't believe that she ever meant to return. He really had no reason to do so. And she had never told him that she had...that she still did...

Christine swallowed, feeling a thick lump form at the back of her throat. She touched her lips and stared at the linoleum floor, her heart aching with a sense of loss. For a moment, she felt hurt, almost rejected. That was childish, though. Erik had given her what he believed her to want, was releasing her from the madness that would likely accompany them. He loved her enough to realize that nothing good could ever come out of what they had...

Maybe...maybe it was better if he never knew the truth...that she did deeply love him...that she would have stayed.

He would never let her go if he knew such things. He would tightly cling to her, and they would forever be swept into some unknown horrible, wonderful place.

Perhaps she should take this chance at freedom and normalcy-awaken her friend, flee into the night, and ignore the chaotic emotions that were tearing her apart. Wasn't that right thing to do?

Or was she just running away again?

As tears flowed down her cheeks, she thought she heard noise in the background. The shutting of a door, followed by quick footsteps. She disregarded the sound as silence returned, tightly folding her arms into her chest. The room felt cold now, tiny goose bumps dotting her pale flesh.

She sat there in thought for several moments. Her gaze idly drifted somewhere and suddenly stopped. Christine blinked twice, feeling her heart skip a beat. She stood and walked to the back of the shadow-covered room, directly toward the counter against the wall.

No matter how the night ended, there would be no more secrets...nothing else done in fear alone.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grasped the two corners of the white sheet with both hands. With only one more second of hesitation, she pulled it back with all of her remaining energy. She looked down.

And then she cried.

And she laughed.