AN: The last chapter! Hopefully this chapter meets your expectations. If it doesn't, tell me why it doesn't! I want to improve my writing so that when you read it, it is much more enjoyable!

I would like to send a shout-out to anybody who was patient enough to stick with me through this whole story. It took me, what? A year to write it? That's a ridiculous amount of time to have to wait. If these chapters stink than its even worse, right?

So, yeah. Sorry about the wait and everything. But look! I kept my promise! I finished the story when I said was going to!

The room was a beautiful sight. Flowers were placed on every surface available, their bright colors making the room much less gloomy than it really should have been. In the midst of all the fragrant petals, a bed was placed, and on that bed was one Raoul de Chagny, taking his last breaths of life.

There were two chairs on either side of him. To his right sat his son, Charles; to his left was his soon-to-be daughter, Felicity. The girl peered compassionately down at the sick man, while her fiance stared at the ground, thinking about things that even his father couldn't comprehend.

Previously we said that everyone is going to die. Now we shall add to that; nobody is ready when death comes. Everyone has something they want to do one last time, no matter how small of a thing it is – kiss your wife one last time; sing just one more song; tell your lover your feelings. There was something Raoul wanted to do – after all, he – like us – is a person, and all persons have something they want to do once more, just as we said earlier. However, Raoul was an uncommon type of person; he realized what he wanted to do before it was too late. What was this thing he wanted to do?

Talk to Charles, just once more.

This being said, as Raoul's last breath came nearer and nearer, Felicity was asked to leave the room so that the man could talk to his son alone. Till the day she died, she never knew what had been said in that room on that day.

"Charles... I want to talk... to you about... your father," the ill man rasped out.

The boy's eyebrows went up; wasn't Raoul his father? Sure, he himself was Erik, the Opera Ghost, but he had taken for granted that the man who raised him was his father. He listened intently.

"Your father... was a strange man... even still I haven't... forgiven him of some... particular deeds... but there is one... that I especially... cherish..."

"What is it?"

"You..."

"Me?"

"Yes. It took... a while... but I did figure... it out... eventually..."

Charles was nervous. "Just what did you figure out?"

"Christine asked me... to forgive a... dead man... but why would I... do that, when... I could forgive... you, Monsieur Erik..."

His pulsed sighed away into Nothingness. From Nothingness it came, and to Nothingness it returned.

Why is it called Nothingness? Because there is nothing you can do about it. Why is there nothing you can do about it? That answer remains beyond the limitations of our simple minds. We, as human beings, cannot comprehend Death. Death is not a cloaked figure riding a pale horse. Death is not something familiar to us. Why is it not familiar to us? Because we have never experienced it before.

Even Life is something that we are barely acquainted with. There are, occasionally, the blessed souls who manage to befriend Life and live their life out to its fullest. However, there are very few of these people.

Raoul de Chagny was no one of these special people – he was far from it. Why is he noteworthy, then? I never said he was. Why is he special, then? I never said that he was special, either. Why is he being mentioned then?

He was part of the life of one of those spectacular creatures who befriend Life.

I made a mistake. This man, Raoul, was part of the life of the most amazing being – Life's best friend. Who was Life's best friend?

A man named Erik.

Why is he Life's best friend?

He learned what it is to never even have a life to start with.

~End~