A/N: What? Last chapter already? Guess that's how things go…as always, I own nothing but Phantomess.

"DuMont," The driver called back to his passengers three days later. The Phantom pulled aside the curtain and noted just how small the cottage was. It was late evening, and he could see figures moving inside, a few young faces peering out at the carriage. The driver unloaded the few pieces of luggage, including a makeshift cage for Carmilla and her kittens. Slowly, the Phantom carried Phantomess out of the carriage. After paying the driver, he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, revealing a short, plump woman.

"May I help you?" Her eyes were huge, showing just where Phantomess had gotten hers.

"You must be her mother…" he nodded to the girl in his arms, and as the woman studied her, the eyes only grew larger.

"Marie…" she whispered.

"Is that her name?"

"Yes…where did you find her? What's wrong with her?"

"She found me…in Paris. I'm not sure what is wrong…she fell ill a little over a week ago."

"Please…come inside…" the woman moved aside to allow his entrance, and he cautiously stepped inside. As the woman called out instructions to the residents of the cottage, it seemed that no one really noticed him. All their focus was on their long-lost sister, and as soon as he'd laid her on her bed, he was forced to the doorway, then the main room as her family crowded around her. He looked at the front door. The carriage was still waiting. He could go back…he could go back and she would be fine. Now that she had helped him, she could go on with her life…get married, raise children…forget about him…

But perhaps that wasn't the point. What would he be going back to? An empty, dark lair beneath a burned-down opera house? Before, he didn't really mind the thought. But now that he knew her…now that he knew that she really did care about him…he knew he could not walk away when she had never walked away from him.

He went outside to the carriage, and the driver went to open the door. "I thank you, Monsieur, but I will be staying here. " The driver raised his eyebrow. "I know we agreed to a round trip. Here is what I would have owed you, and I thank you for your trouble." He placed several coins in the driver's hand, and he shrugged.

"Very well, Monsieur…good evening." As he got back into his seat, the Phantom returned inside. Madame DuMont was in the main room, and when she saw him, she smiled.

"I was hoping you hadn't left before I could thank you."

"It was the least I could do after all she's done for me, Madame."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Madame DuMont lowered herself to a sofa, and the Phantom joined her.

She awoke a week later. He was sitting by her bed, her tiny hand clutched between both of his as he wept. When he saw that she was awake, his face changed—though he still wept, he smiled in sheer relief. Something was…different. "I prayed." He barely whispered. "Your father taught me. I…I prayed for myself…and for you…He saved us both…" Tears welled up in her own eyes, and she grasped his hands with her free one.

"That's wonderful, Monsieur…."

"Erik….it's only fair. I learned your name, Marie. It's time you knew mine." Marie looked around the room, it finally dawning on her that she was home.

"What have I missed?" The question was asked in awe, and as Erik wiped at his tears, he provided the answer. He told of how Marie's family had explained that God had protected him…how He had provided a safe haven which Erik had considered a living hell. They'd explained how God had shown just how much He loved him by sacrificing His only Son on the cross so that he didn't have to just secretly yearn for Heaven—he could enter it, not based on the good or bad things he'd done, but just by trusting in Him.

As Marie listened, she couldn't believe that this was the same man she'd first seen four years ago. Yet there was one thing very much the same—before, he had been the wandering child tormented in a cold, dark prison. Now, he was a child come home, practically beaming with childlike faith and hope in whatever was to come.

Months passed, and Marie fully recovered. They never did discover what had caused her illness. The best answer they could come up with came surprisingly from Erik. "Perhaps it was God telling her that it was time to come home."

As Erik learned more about God from Monsieur DuMont and from studying the family Bible, he used his salary money to fund expanding and improving the cottage. While it got significantly larger, he made sure that it never lost its cozy feel. He also made several small instruments, beginning with a violin, and he taught Marie's four younger siblings how to play them.

One day, Marie went out to the barn, where she knew he would be with Carmilla and her kittens. Yes, there he was, playing with "Little Phantom" and a piece of straw. The runt of Carmilla's litter had become Erik's pet, and she could see why; the kitten was mostly black, but on the right side of his face was a white patch around his eye down to his chin. "Good afternoon, Erik…" she lowered herself to the floor next to Carmilla, and the calico mother immediately curled up in her lap.

"And you as well, Marie…" he looked up from Little Phantom to smile at her, and she returned it.

"Do you mind if I return one of your questions?"

"What would that be?"

"What are your plans now? Do you intend to go back?" She watched him, and he hesitated, moving the straw further out of the kitten's reach.

"No…" he sighed, "I don't think I will go back. Everything I need, want," he looked back at her, "and love…are right here."

"Y—you…?"

"Yes, Marie. I realize now that what you said about love is true…because I feel it for you."

"Oh Erik…" She teared up, and his eyes widened, about to apologize. "I love you too…"

"I know. I could see it in the way you cared for me…but it's good to hear you say it." A few seconds later, there were two confused and annoyed felines looking bewildered at Erik and Marie—the Phantom and the Phantomess.

Epilogue

Erik and Marie were married a year later. Another extention was made to the cottage, large enough for the couple and their four children. Marie ran the household just as she had practiced all her life. Erik continued to write music, no longer sad and lonely, but now full of hope and life. As no one in the opera house knew his real name, he was also able to write more operas and sell them to the new managers once the building was repaired. Once or twice, they made the journey to attend some of his operas, and he wasn't surprised to see Raoul and Christine in attendance to watch their own children perform. Erik never did speak to Christine. Just seeing her happy and healthy was enough.

As for the drawings, they remained in the cellars for future generations to find and put in museums and galleries, along with the rest of his possessions. By then, the stories of the Opera Ghost would become a legend. The memory of Erik, however, would remain in the hearts of his children, grandchildren, and everyone to whom they told of the gifted man.

A/N: Please feel free to review! If you have any questions about the contents of this chapter as far as God, prayer, and salvation, feel free to ask! I'd be more than happy to answer or at least try! Thanks again!