Okay, here's the rest of the last chapter!

Hope you guys are liking it!

-Nico

Erik cursed behind the curtains, quickly doing the last of the buttons on his vest. Behind him, a panicked, sweaty Piangi was uttering terrible Italian obscenities, although they were muffled by the gag Erik had placed and tied securely around his mouth.

The last of his vest buttons conquered, Erik knelt down to remove Don Juan's elaborate cape from around Piangi's shoulders. "Be thankful, my rotund friend, that you have met me on this side of consequence." He quickly wrapped the cape around his own shoulders. "Otherwise, I fear you would have come out of this much worse for the wear."

Piangi's eyes went wide with the insinuation, and the close proximity to the dreaded Phantom of the Opera's mask.

Then, he passed out.

Erik shook his head. Had he known it would be so easy to frighten the large man, he would never have killed him the first time around.

His mind frantically searched for the lesson…the patience he had learned with Athena…

It had already come into play.

Shaking off the feeling that the ghost of Charles Daae had edified him, Erik peered from behind the curtains at a new presence on the stage.

His Christine.

She walked out slowly, barefooted, her porcelain face and gleaming hair shining in the false sunlight provided by a half-drunk stagehand.

Erik felt his lip twitch into a small smile as he watched her…a smile that quickly dissipated as he caught sight of Raoul, staring at his fiancé with a loving, reassuring smile.

He watched as Christine's eyes met with Raoul's. He noted the small nod of encouragement Raoul gave her.

Then, Erik noticed the armed men placed not only in Raoul's box, but strategically throughout the theater.

The first time he had realized Raoul had planned an ambush, blinding rage had taken control of him. Reckless abandon had thrust him out onto the stage, shoving the role of Don Juan down his throat, further than it already was.

Now, he calmly thought about the situation.

As long as he acted rationally, he was in control of the situation.

He simply hoped he could pass such rationalism onto Christine…

Who was singing the last line before his cue.

Briefly, Erik allowed himself to revel in the pure, crystalline quality of her voice. If there was one thing he missed about the Christine in this life, it was her utter indulgence in song.

Something about her long engagement to Raoul in Erik's "second chance" had hardened her…had stolen the brightness from her instrument.

Now, it was back, ringing in the attentive ears of everyone within reach.

Including Erik.

As his gloved hand swept across the curtains, revealing himself to the audience for the first time, he heard several whispers from the crowd.

Funny how he had missed the cast's astute assumptions that Piangi had been 'replaced' the first time this had all happened.

Christine's back was to him. When he had seen the blocking for this particular scene for the first time, he had been delighted with direction. This allowed him to sing several bars of music before she would turn to see him.

But now, he longed to see her eyes…to know what she knew…so see the extent of how much she remembered.

He was still in great pain from his…well, death…but at the sight of Christine pain was forgotten and his voice floated effortlessly from his chest, delighting the audience with its pure animal magnetism.

Erik noted how Christine's shoulders tensed just after the first note escaped his lips.

Slowly, wondrously, she turned around, her eyes wide with surprise.

He could not be certain yet whether or not she was in awe of his replacement of Piangi, or her excitement to see him again.

Erik stalked to the edge of the stage, aware of just how imposing a figure he was in his sleek black costume.

He flared the cape dramatically to one side, watching as Christine rose slowly to her feet.

Moving closer to her, he extended his hand to hers, bringing it dramatically to his lips, only to have it coyly pulled away by Christine.

Erik's eyes flitted to Raoul, who was watching the scene on the edge of his seat, no doubt highly irritated that the man in the mask had dare touch his beautiful flower.

As Christine began to sing again, he watched as she gave herself to the moment, shrugging her shoulders in abandon as she admitted that she too was ready to pass the point of no return.

Slowly, in harmony, they crossed the stage towards the elaborate stairs leading to the culmination of a bridge, suspended high over the stage where false flames flickered against scantily clad ballerinas in black silks.

He removed his cape in one fail swoops as they faced off at either end of the precipice, allowing it to fall perfectly over the railing. He walked and sang, watching as she did the same until they met in the middle in a collision of grasping hands.

Erik turned her into himself, embracing her from behind, allowing his fingertips to run down the sides of her bare arms, willing his presence back into her…silently praying that it would be enough to remind her of love.

When she spun away from him, he clutched her hands in his. And while he searched for a new way to tell her how he loved her…to tempt her with what they could be together…he found the same, haunting words he had married to music and placedon paper what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Anywhere you go let me go too," he pleaded, his voice cracking over the notes, his eyes frantically searching hers for any indication she remembered. "Love me," he whispered. "That's all I ask of…"

And he paused, waiting for the moment that would surely come…the moment when Christine would betray him by pulling off the mask that hid his horrors from the paying audience…the moment that would send the entire theater into a murderous mob…

Yet the moment never came. Erik took a deep breath, looking down into Christine's eyes, which were brimming with tears. Softly, almost inaudible to anyone besides Christine, Erik allowed himself to sing the word that had gone silent for so long.

"…you."

Christine left her small hands on his shoulders, listening to the audience shift uncomfortably beneath the intensity of the moment. She could practically feel Raoul's eyes burning into the back of her head, wondering what she was doing with her hands tightly entwined within the fabric of Erik's lapels.

"Erik," she whispered, her eyes blinking nervously.

"Do you remember?" Erik asked quietly, desperately...past the point of caring about the crowd watching. "Do you remember Christine?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She nodded, slowly at first and then with such vigor it caused the red rose to fall from her hair. "I remember," she whispered, looking up at him. "I remember everything."

Erik's heart surged. He fought the urge to embrace her, to kiss her…

"But Erik," Christine was saying, pulling him back down to reality. "What do we do now?"