Yes! I'm back! After a wonderful and I daresay very well deserved vacation I returned to find the most stunning amount of reviews waiting for me, thank you so much to all of you! For those of you who have been biting their nails frantically the last few weeks wondering if I would be cruel enough to sarcifice Erik to the greater good...here's your chance to find out. For those of you who hate evil cliffies: don't read unaccompanied, for this is truly the cruelest one I've done so far. I will not be held responsable for any health damage occuring from this plotline, just so you know. Keep those hopsital bills to yourself my darlings! Enjoy and please let me know what you think! -x- Lotte.

"You're not going to get yourself shot are you?"

Luca did not even look up as the tapping of her pointe shoes had already betrayed Thérèse's presence. He sat polishing the guns they were to take once more, even though André Valmont had already assured them they were clean as could be and his father had spent half the night redoing them himself.

"I am to be second only, Teresa. Hand out the guns, hold my father's jacket and make sure no one plays foul. With any luck he will shoot DuChamps' guts out in moments and we can all go home safe and sound."

He had expected her to react to the notion of spilled guts in outrage but again the petite blonde surprised him, quietly sitting down next to him and gently touching his arm, stilling his hands.

"You will return here afterwards, will you not? To say goodbye I mean?"

For a second he just looked at her, pondering the look of helplessness in her eyes and finding himself wishing to return, to stay even. Watching her being attacked by Roger DuChamps at the Opera that afternoon had broken his heart in a way he had not believed possible and the feel of her slender form in his arms, her warm breath tickling the column of his throat had been pure heaven. Was this the type of affection his sisters had always warned him about? The love he would surely succumb to one day whether wishing it or not?

Before he realised it his hand rose to her golden locks, gently pulling her closer before capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She did not pull away but moved closer, encouraging his actions with a barely audible sigh of content. Thérèse had expected something oddly clumsy, herself sorely lacking any experience of the sort and Luca never having seemed interested in the subject of love or flirtation. The kiss he was bestowing on her now however, was far from cautious or inexperienced. It was soft, coaxing, yet very demanding, soaring in a passion she had never imagined to be buried underneath his serious and distant composure. It was the type of kiss every girl would wish to be her first, and she promised herself to one day demand of him however he obtained such skills and exactly how many kissing partners it had required!

"If you please my little Giry…I fear I must steal your suitor from you for now. I would hate for us to miss our appointment with Monsieur DuChamps."

Upon hearing Erik's solemn voice cut through the otherwise silent drawing room the two adolescents hastily pulled apart, Thérèse blushing profusely and Luca carefully avoiding eye contact, thus missing the hint of amusement that lay hidden there.

"I can assure you I have every intention of delivering him back to you unharmed before breakfast however…" Inappropriate as it may be, Erik felt the need for a little jest to prevent him from losing his mind entirely.

After he had cleaned his guns that night, his usual insomnia catching up with him again, he had gone up to Céline's room and sat by her side. She looked so pale and fragile, the tracks of freshly shed tears on her face, a shadow from the lively, carefree young woman he had welcomed back home only a few weeks ago. He knew it all too well, the feeling of loosing everything you hold dear. Of painting fairytales in your head only to find them shattered by the harsh reality of life.

"I will return your fairytales to you my little angel, soon your world of darkness will be filled with light again…" She had turned in his arms as he spoke, a slip of a smile appearing on her lips as if she had heard him. He had sat humming to her as he had for so many years, until the first traces of light betrayed the coming of dawn and his eminent appointment with his cursed son-in-law.

There had been a time when meetings such as these would not have troubled him in the least. A time when he loved nothing and feared nothing, least of all his own demise. But times had changed, life had changed. Destiny had tossed his self-designed structure of pain and destruction aside and had replaced it with a warm circle of love and affection, that unfortunately asked as much of him as it gave. He knew he could not fail for the sake of his family. And so, with a new resolve, he put of his jacket and straightened his cravat.

"May the Lord give me strength and the Angels of Vengeance guide my hand…"

Quickly crossing himself, daring to let his mind wander back to Venice only for a moment, he strode out of the room to meet his opponent.

--------------------------------------------------

The morning air was already warm with the anticipation of a beautiful summer day as both parties encountered each other at the Bois. Lovers Grove, famous for its isolated and thus private location at the very edge of the park, was nowadays more often used for ending quarrels than stealing secret kisses from ones lover. The gendarmes had long given up on their attempts to check on these grounds, unwilling to make a bad figure with the rich noblemen who frequented the Grove for either activity. As Roger DuChamps arrived, late as was to be expected, he encountered his father- and brother-in-law awaiting him with equal stoic appearance. The arrogant looking young man he had towed along as second was one of his fellow chorus members from the Populaire. A man, Erik knew, who had barely escaped an execution via the Opera Ghost's dreaded list himself.

"You're late boy." Erik could not help but vent some of his annoyance in his clipped words.

"Are you thus eager to meet your Maker my dearest papa? Do not worry, I have no intention of making you wait long. My wife is well I trust? Had a good night's sleep? I shall be very upset indeed should she be returned to me in any less than impeccable shape of course…"

The sudden bustle of weaponry next to him, Luca quickly busying himself in unpacking, reminded him all too clear of why they were here and he knew he could not let Roger reach his purpose in upsetting him. His sudden bursts of anger had always been his biggest weakness, and in a matter of precision such as a duel it could very well cost him his life.

The seconds shook hands and Stéphane, as the young man was introduced as, appeared equally ill at ease on these grounds as Luca was. Both seemed determined to do their utter least to encourage any further hostilities and were eager to end the whole affair as quick as may be. Normally the challenged party would have chosen their weapon, but Erik had correctly assumed Roger had not the means nor the appropriate knowledge to do so, and so the guns were selected. André had proudly boasted his own brother had most recently used them while challenging a man who had dared lay a finger on his betrothed, and Erik had been happy to hear they had at least been more than wall decoration in a family as seemingly peaceful as the Valmont's.

"Right then, let's be done with this. Both parties shall turn from each other and walk ten paces exactly, according to my count. Upon having reached your final position you shall both turn and fire one shot in your opponent's direction. You shall do so on the exact moment of your turning, only a coward would await his opponent's shot first. The result of this duel will be decided by the severeness of your injuries or lack thereof by myself and my honourable colleague." Stéphane hastily rattled on before turning towards Luca, who silently nodded in agreement.

As Erik started to loosen his jacket and vest, handing them to Luca, he suddenly looked him deep in the eye. "No matter the outcome Luca, your sister will not stay here. Promise me you will take her back to Italy and have this charade of a marriage annulled should I fail in my task. That is all that matters to me."

It was the first time Luca dared to think of the fact that his father might not survive this day, and it terrified him. "I shall promise you anything you like, though I doubt I shall have to fulfill any of my vows any time soon. We will deal with this, and we will return home together. As a family."

Erik slowly nodded as he finally added his cravat to the stack of clothes laid aside. "You are right…as a family." And with that he took his position next to Roger DuChamps.

Roger was blinking at the bright sunlight, attempting to fight the bouts of nausea his hangover brought on. What was he doing here? No good could come of this any way you looked at it. If he won, he would have to find a way to deal with his hysterical, and basically useless wife and pregnant mistress, and if he lost…well he would be dead then. He had no doubts his father-in-law was an excellent marksman, yet Stéphane had just managed to spike his fear by growing sickeningly pale by the sight of him.

"That face…that mask…it is the face my father told me of."

Roger had tugged at his cravat irritated. "What are you talking about? Yes, so he wears a mask. What of it?"

"He wears a mask, is a brilliant architect and composer…and just as his daughter seems in danger the Opera Ghost returns to haunt the Populaire… Can't you see what you have brought upon us you idiot? You have brought the Phantom of the Opera back to Paris!"

Roger lifted a brow: "You mean that madman who killed your father and burned the House to the ground for that ungrateful little Ope.." Suddenly it all made sense, the story of Christine Alighieri's earlier marriage to the Vicomte de Chagny, their abhorrence of Paris…Good God, he had triggered the wrath of the infamous Opera Ghost himself! A man who kills without a thought, no mercy or remorse…He would have to act quickly or he would end up as dead as the father of poor Stéphane Bouquet!

As Stéphane started counting loudly, the two men slowly moved apart, their seconds following their every move to look out for foul play. No other noise was heard, each man on the grounds enraptured in his own thoughts. As they neared their final paces the tension was almost tangible, and Luca's eyes shifted quickly from one man to the other, now a near twenty metres apart from one another, as they set their final step.

"Ten!"

Gravel shifted under feet, and in a thundering blaze the two guns went off almost simultaneously, a cloud of smoke and gunpowder hiding all results from view as a sorrowful cry cut through the air. The two men still stood facing each other, one with hate and a hint of victory in his eyes, the other surprised and defeated, none sure where the cry had immersed from. Slowly blood came trickling down from the wounded man's throat, where the bullet had cut through his air pipe before rushing straight through the main artery next to it. Breathing slowly became impossible, talking was useless as the heavy blood loss drained the energy from his slumping body.

His opponent slowly loomed over him, a sarcastic smile drawing upon his face as he seemed to be enjoying the damage done.

"How fitting, for a singer and whisperer of lies to loose your life to your most important asset. I did warn you not to make an enemy of me, Monsieur DuChamps. I will make sure not to send your wife any word of greeting, you deserve no such pleasure after all the pleasures you have already stolen from her."

As he saw the boy sinking away further and further in his battle with death he slowly laid his hands across his chest before cautiously closing his eyes.

"You go and meet your maker now and see what he will make of your crimes."

And with that he turned on his heel, ready to leave as it finally dawned on him who had cried out. On the ground along the path the two young seconds sat, Stéphane hovering over Luca in a frightful panic.

"Monsieur, if you please…" Luca's white shirt was stained in blood, and the boy no longer seemed awake to notice it…