It had come. The day everyone in the opera house was both impatient for and dreading. Curtain was at eight o'clock. Enough time for one last rehearsal, some last-minute changes to costume, and the final nails in the set. Cecily sat on the edge of the stage in a chair, watching both the cast and orchestra carefully. It was early. The sun hadn't truly risen above the Paris skyline, and the lamps were burning brightly. The music had finally come together, and the chorus didn't sound like a group of alley cats any longer. It was the end of the nightmare, except for the final moment, and everyone knew it.

Nicholai seemingly appeared out of nowhere to kneel by Cecily's side. "I have to talk to you." There was no laughter in his voice like normal, and Cecily wondered why.

"All right." She followed him into the shadows behind the curtain. "The Count needs me to return to Russia."

The air rushed out of Cecily. "What? Why?"

Nicholai shook his head. "Business, as always."

"When?" She pulled him closer to her, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.

"Next week."

She pushed back and stared at him. "Next week! That's too soon…" She wiped away a tear and bit her lip.

"I know, I know," he kissed her. "Here," he said reaching into his pocket. Frowning, he looked down into it. "Hmm…"

"What is it?"

"Well, I was going to offer you my handkerchief, but I seem to have misplaced it." He laughed and kissed her forehead. "I know it's soon, my dear, but I was rather hoping that you would come with me."

She stopped crying, shocked. "You want me? To go with you? To Russia? When would we come back?"

He looked away for a moment, into the shadows. "We wouldn't. But yes, I want you to come. We would be married there, if you'll come." He put a small band on her ring finger. "I know that you didn't expect it, so I'll give you some time. Just think about it." He placed another kiss on her lips before hurrying off.

Collapsing back into her chair, she moved the ring to the right hand. It felt strange on her left. "Hide our sword now wounded knight!" sang out the chorus. "Your vainglorious gasconade brought you to your final fight for your pride, high price you've paid!" Cecily just wondered which the wounded knight was in the real story.

---

6:45. In fifteen minutes, the doors would be opened for the opera. Every ticket was sold, and it seemed that everyone in Paris wanted to be able to claim to have seen the Phantom's opera. Firemen were posted at every exit, and Andre, Firmin, Raoul, and the fire chief was inspecting. Cecily was stationed stage right, Giry stage left. They were not a part of Raoul's plan, and Cecily hoped that Erik would not have come. Nicholai would not be coming; she had asked him not to.

Hearing a whistle, the doors slammed shut. Grimacing, she looked over at the fire chief. "Are the doors secured?" Similar words ring back from each possible exit. Cecily shook her head. The Phantom did not play by Raoul's rules. She had a feeling Erik was up to something particularly odd this night.

"I'm here: The Phantom of the Opera…" It came from the curtains below box 4. Firemen rushed over to it. When they had nearly reached it….

"I'm here: The Phantom of the Opera…" Again, the firemen followed the voice.

"I'm here!"

"No! I'm here!"

"Over here!" They darted from place to place, following the ghostly voice.

"I'm here: The Phantom of the Opera…" The voice sounded this time from inside Box 5, and a shot rang out.

"Idiot!" raged Raoul at the astounded marksman. I said only when the time comes!"

The marksman muttered something, but a loud voice interrupted him. "No "buts"! For once, Monsieur le Vicomte is right..." The voice was clearly the Phantom's, but it seemed to come from the marksman himself. The marksman's eyes widened and he began to shake. Cecily moved over to him and whispered in his ear to be calm, it was just a trick.

The Phantom's voice continued. "Seal my fate tonight – I hate to have to cut the fun short but the joke's wearing thin. Let the audience in. Let my opera begin!"

An eerie silence descended on the opera house. Then the doors opened. The audience filed in. The orchestra began. And Don Juan Triumphant started.

---

It was nearing the end. The final scene had started. Meg dashed into the cover of curtains, having finished her miniscule part in this scene, and smiled tensely at Cecily, who returned it. Piangi appeared on stage, having finally mastered the melody. The two men exited, and Christine entered. The entire staff held their breath, but it seemed nothing was going to happen. Christine sat down on the stage, and even now Cecily raised an eyebrow at the lack of material covering her. Erik was pushing it with that.

"Passarino - go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey!" Cecily's heart paused. It was a voice that possibly only she and Christine knew. The voice of a master at full effort. No one else would recognize that it was Erik. Surely Christine would cry out, do something! But no – the poor girl could only gape slightly open-mouthed as he approached, a high-collared cloak hiding away his face.

Erik sang, and even Cecily could feel it washing over her. The pure power of his voice was impossible to overcome. It was the voice that had so entrapped her and Erik while singing this very song that they had forgotten…He had forgotten she was not Christine…

The girl rose and followed the choreography as if born to do so. A step toward him here, a hesitation there, a change of expression- it was all perfect. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return…"

More and more people were realizing that it was not Piangi, but they were so enraptured by the voice….

"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence…" Cecily mouthed the words along with Christine. What could she do?

She shook herself. If Erik was onstage, where was Piangi? She scurried over to the alcove where he was to wait and stifled a scream. It was all she could do to pull over a gendarme before fleeing to the backstage wall. "Erik!" she sobbed quietly. "Why did you do this? Damn it Erik!"

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime! Lead me, save me from my solitude!" Cecily whipped around, staring at the scene before her in utter horror. Christine was wrapped in Erik's arms in the middle of the bridge above the fire, languishing in his voice. He took hold of her hand and placed a ring on it. A ring that even Raoul recognized from Box 4 on the other side. "Say you want me with you, here beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too - Christine that's all I ask of…"

In what the newspapers would describe as bravery and Cecily would call utter foolishness, Christine calmly raised her hand to Erik's face, only to rip away the mask. Cecily screamed out against her, but it was too late. The audience screamed and yelled things such as, "Dear God, what is that thing? It's wretched! Where did it come from?" When she looked back at Christine, the two were gone, disappeared into one of the Phantom's contraptions.

She sprinted toward stage left, pushing aside several panicked chorus members. "Monsieur le Vicomte, I know where they are!" She heard Mme. Giry through the last of the crowd.

She stopped, trying to force herself to think despite the haze of panic and fear. "She will take him down, and he will try to kill Erik, but Erik cannot be beaten in his own lair… Meg!" She pulled the girl to her. "You must do something for me. You know the way, I know you do. The crowd will follow. Lead them down, but the wrong way!"

"What? Why the wrong way?"

Cecily shook her head and moved toward a passage door. "Buy time for all our lives."

As she unlocked the door, she heard the steam from the extinguished fire. "Perfect luck, that. Anywhere else and someone might have gotten hurt, even died." She knew full well it was not luck.

It was not her normal passage, and she arrived near the organ. The sound of the gate groaning in ascent could be heard through the wooden door, and Cecily peeped out. "Monsieur, I bid you welcome!
Did you think that I would harm her? Why should I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" Cecily threw her hand over her mouth to silence a cry as Erik wrapped the Punjab lasso around Raoul's neck. He did not pull it tight, just enough to make it difficult to speak. What was he playing at?

Erik turned to Christine, and for the first time, his treasured Angel saw the full force of his raging eyes. "Start a new life with me! Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! This is your choice! This is the point of no return!"

Slipping out, Cecily began to work on loosing the knot that held the Punjab lasso aloft. If only the rope was not so thick! In the shadows, only Erik could have seen her, and he was focused on Christine.

All three seemed to be simultaneously speaking to the others and to themselves. Cecily caught snippets as she tried to work her finger between the strands of the knot.

"Farewell my fallen idol and false friend, one by one I've watched illusions shattered…"

"So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?"

"Either way you choose, he has to win! Why make her lie to you to save me?"

"Too late for turning back! Too late for prayers and useless pity! Past all hope of cries for help: no point in fighting!"

"When will you see reason?"

"So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?"

"For pity's sake, Christine, say no!"

"I gave my mind blindly!"

"I fought so hard to free you"

"You try my patience - make your choice!"

Cecily's fingers were bleeding from the effort of freeing the rope in the bitter cold, but it wouldn't budge. She looked up, able only to watch in dismay as Christine did the one mature thing that Cecily had ever seen her do.

She kissed Erik.

Cecily felt the kiss as a blow to her stomach, and the look of joy on Erik's face knocked her back against the wall, fighting away tears. She turned and fled back to the passage, forgetting her cane on the ground.

Erik had never felt such joy as the feel of Christine's lips on his… A sound from the corner made him pull back. Cecily's cane lay there, but no sign of its owner. He gasped. Oh God! What had he done? He pushed Christine back, catching her only before she tumbled into the lake water. "Take her - forget me - forget all of this! Leave me alone in my misery! Forget all you've seen!" He raised a candle to the thread that held the Punjab lasso, burning it. The noose fell uselessly at Raoul's feet. "Go now! Don't let them find you!" He retreated to the stairs. "Take the boat! Leave me here go now, don't wait! Just take her and go!" He leaned against the doorframe and looked back one last time. "Go!"

Collapsing onto the steps, out of view of Christine and Raoul, Erik started up a small music box. "Masquerade, paper faces on parade," he whispered to the tune. A step on the stairs startled him. Christine looked down at him, pity etched into every perfect line of her face. She laid the ring on the step next to him. "Christine, I love you." He cast his eyes down, unwilling to let her see the hope that her return had caused.

"I'm sorry," he thought he heard her mutter as she returned to Raoul. Erik listened as they left, leaving everything but the ring on and Cecily's cane. Two blows from the cane were all it took to break the mirror passage open. Giving one last look at his lair, he disappeared into the darkness and lowered the curtain over his escape.

Four stories above, Cecily was suppressing a sob. She was crouched in the tunnel, tears flowing down her face. A sliver of light from a crack in the stone reflected harshly off her right hand. Biting her lip, Cecily moved the small diamond from her right hand and placed it firmly on her right left, right next to Nicholai's promise ring. "There is nothing left in France."