(A/N: Well, this is it, guys! The final chapter. I'd like to thank all of my awesome reviewers: Pearlmaidenredskyla, dark lili, KiKiKaKes, Tina95, FaithIsDelusion, Acadia24, ForgottenAngerCourter, Lithia Malfoy, Little Margarita, MasqueradeBall, Oynxx Rayne, MARIANAStrench, chirachi, Unknownred, Serpentinia Malfoy, .sand and InuYashaFreak. Phew! I made it through all of you! Well, enough of boring old me, let's get on with the show!)
EPILOGUE
Christine POV
The audience burst into applause as I dipped a curtsy.
"Bravissima!" I heard Andre call from his private box and I smiled at him. He and Firmin, though they had every reason in the world to leave, decided to stay as owners of the Opera Populaire, mainly because they didn't have to pay for the renovations.
It took a full year, but finally the opera house had been restored to its former glory. Tonight had been the grand opening, and the crowd was showing much appreciation for the company's long months of work.
The curtain swung closed, and all the performers relaxed from their positions. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked around. Antoinette Giry smiled at me.
"You did very well tonight. Erik will meet you after you've changed," she told me, pressing a ruby red rose in my hand. Wrapped around the stem was a black ribbon, a sure clue to whom it was from.
She patted my shoulder, before her beady eyes fell upon a pair of ballerinas.
"You two! Sloppiness is not the expectation at the Opera Populaire!" she reprimanded, and I grinned. Antoinette definitely hadn't changed.
"Miss Daae?" I hadn't heard that name in a while, and I looked around.
Though Erik and I were married, we had both decided it was best I kept my maiden name. For one matter, Erik didn't have a last name, and for another with the amount of gossipers in the opera house, the news of our marriage would spread like wildfire.
Philippe de Chagny stood before me meekly, looking around at the rafters.
I knew why. He and his brother shared an uncomfortable likeness, a likeness Erik detested. Philippe had quickly learned to stay away from my husband ever since he had come once with Meg down to the lair. He certainly hadn't seen the best side of Erik that day.
"Good evening, Philippe. Did you enjoy the performance?" I asked, staying abnormally calm for his sake. Philippe was a very shy man, and the slightest discomfort would discourage him.
"Er, yes… Do you know where Meg is?" he asked nervously.
I smiled. Philippe had been attached to Meg ever since he met her, and Meg felt very much the same way. In fact, Meg was almost as jealous about Philippe as Erik was about me. She had become very possessive one time when I was talking alone with Philippe on the balcony, and I had to remind her my experience with his brother.
"I can hardly look at Raoul, Meg. Even if I could, would I be married to Erik if I was infatuated with Philippe?"
She had lightened up on me sufficiently after that incident, but was still fairly aggressive with any other woman. Philippe didn't mind that. He was too shy to talk to anyone else besides Meg and I.
"I think she's in the dressing room. Why?" I asked. Philippe would usually never risk being out in a throng of people. It had to be a special occasion.
He grimaced slightly, and looked behind him.
"Promise you won't tell anyone, especially my brother? He won't like it that I'm mingling with 'commoners'," he muttered, and I nodded.
"I promise." He sighed, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a little box, and opened it. A gold band with a silvery pearl gleamed up at me and I gasped.
"Oh, Philippe! You're going to ask her to marry you?" I hugged him, and he patted my back awkwardly, "Congratulations!"
"Thank you… just don't tell anyone, alright?" he asked, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed my sudden outburst. I put a finger to my lips.
"My lips are sealed. Good luck!" I whispered and for once, he smiled.
I watched him hurry off into the crowd, a couple of ballerinas looking back at him as he passed.
I grinned. Meg would be so excited. I couldn't wait to jump around like an idiot with her, like we had before my wedding.
I noticed a small girl dressed up for a night out watching me in admiration. I remembered being like her when I was younger, looking up at the sopranos with awe. I beckoned her over, and her little face lit up.
She hurried over to me and I smiled at her.
"You were really good," she told me, poking her tongue through the holes in her teeth.
"Why, thank you! Is it your first time coming to the Opera Populaire?" She nodded, her grin so big it nearly reached her ears.
"I wanna be a singer just like you!" she informed me, tucking her chin to her chest bashfully. I knelt down so I could look her in the eye.
"I'm sure you will be. Just practice a lot." She nodded, but looked at me thoughtfully.
"My older sister, Constance, told me you had an angle. Do you have an angle?" I smiled as she mispronounced the word. I leaned closer, feigning secrecy.
"I do have an Angel, but it's a secret. Can you keep that secret?" I asked, watching her face grow more and more excited.
"Of course! Oh, boy! A secret! Constance! Constance, I have a secret!" I watched her run away to her older sister, who was talking to Andre. I knew she wouldn't be able to keep that secret for long.
"Well, well. If it isn't the monster's bride," a familiar conceited voice sneered behind me. My smile fell.
I looked around to see Raoul. A regal jacket with gold buttons polished to perfection hung off his shoulder in what he thought was an attractive way, but it wasn't really working for me.
"And if it isn't the man I specifically requested not to attend. How nice of you to come anyway," I retorted with a wicked smile. Anger flashed across his face.
"How dare you not invite me! I am one of the most respected aristocrats in all~" I cut him off coolly, looking over his shoulder.
"Oh, hello, Erik. Nice of you to join us." He whipped around wildly, raising his fists into a fighting stance. No one was there, making him appear like a complete idiot.
I laughed serenely as he seethed, clenching and unclenching his hands.
"Flighty little thing, aren't you? Almost like a…" I glanced at the crest embossed on his jacket, "Pigeon."
He burned with indignation and embarrassment. He was so red in the face, he resembled a squashed tomato.
"How dare you insult my family! This has been our symbol for generations!" he told me, deeply offended.
I grinned.
"Well, it's about time one of your generations changed it," I laughed, and he began to stammer the beginnings of threats.
"I'll… I'll…" He stuttered, but I cut him off before he could think of a retort.
"You'll what? Cry to Mommy and Daddy?" I taunted in a fake baby voice. It was so easy to rile him.
"At least I have a Mommy and Daddy!" he growled back. I felt my smile evaporate instantly, the words cutting deep into my heart.
Raoul seemed to realize how harsh his words were, but did not grow apologetic. Instead, a wicked smile grew on his face and he laughed softly.
"Well, I'm sure Daddy-kins is proud of his little girl, holed up in an opera house with a murderer!" he hissed, taking this joke much too far.
I felt tears form in my eyes, blurring my vision.
"How could you?" I whispered, and fled from him. I kept the tears inside me as I passed Andre and Firmin, who talked to the newest patron.
"Ah, Miss Daae! May I introduce you to~" But I had already rushed past them, biting my lip to suppress the tears. I would not cry… I would not cry!
I pushed through a throng of ballerinas, who gave me dirty looks as I fled.
"Isn't that Christine Daae?" I heard one of them say, but I didn't look back at them.
I hurried down the stairs to the chapel. Falling to my knees, I pressed my hands against my face, trying to force away the urge to cry.
I sat in silence, Raoul's words replaying in my head.
"I'm sure Daddy-kins is proud of his little girl."
I felt a warm presence beside me, but did not look up. I knew who it was.
"I'm beginning to forget him, Erik," I murmured, slightly muffled by my hands. "I can't remember his face as well as I used to. I can only see him clearly in this picture, but he's so unhappy here. I know he used to smile, but I just can't remember!"
I felt warm hands slide around my shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. I pulled his arms around me tighter, laying my head back on his chest.
"Don't leave me," I whispered as I felt him push his face into my black curls.
"Never," he murmured, kissing my cheek tenderly. I turned to look at him as he pulled away, pressing my hand against his chest. His emerald eyes gazed back at me from behind his mask, his strong arms still holding me securely.
I made to wipe my tears away, but he beat me to it. His thumb caressed my cheek gently as he pulled me into him. I laid my head against his chest, closing my eyes. I could hear his steady heartbeat and I began to feel my tears dry up.
"I'm sorry about this. It's just…" I looked back at the picture of my father again, sighing slightly. "I'm not sure if Raoul was right."
He pulled away, looking back into my eyes.
"Your father would be very proud of you, Christine," Erik assured me, reading my worries perfectly. I felt the hints of a smile pull at my lips.
"You think so?" He cupped my cheek.
"I know so. You can't trust that fop to be right about anything," he muttered, a slight edge of bitterness in his tone. I smiled.
"He knows how to do business," I pointed out, and Erik chuckled as he stood up.
"Please, I'm better at business than he is." I took the hand he offered me, and pulled myself up.
"You are?" I had never thought of Erik in business before.
"Of course! I'm paid twenty thousand francs a month for making fops wet themselves. I'd say I've got a better business than Raoul de Chagny."
I laughed, taking his arm. He certainly was good at his business.
"I suppose that means I'm your assistant," I giggled, and he grinned.
"Yes, we could call you that. Well, my darling assistant, would you be kind enough to attend the Opera Populaire's grand opening ball with me?" he asked, leading me from the room. I beamed at him, laying my head against his shoulder as he slipped his arm around my waist.
"Of course I will, as long as you don't threaten anyone with a sword, like you did at the last ball, Monsieur Phantom," I teased, and the hint of a smile passed through his expression.
"The Phantom will not be attending this evening. Your consort tonight is Monsieur O.G., the charming tutor who won your heart while the renovations were underway," he informed me, and I laughed. He was such a natural scriptwriter. It was easy to see how he had written Don Juan Triumphant so quickly.
"I shall try to remember that if I mingle with the "commoners" at any point in the evening, but I'm sure Monsieur O.G. will be too jealous to share his precious ingénue with anyone else," I laughed, and he smirked sheepishly.
"I'm sure he will be," Erik replied, squeezing my hand. I could feel the gold band he wore on his finger press against my palm and I glanced at my own ring. Inscribed into each ring was the same word: Always.
We approached the doors leading to the top of the grand staircase. I looked over at Erik. He hadn't been in public since that fateful night one long year ago, and I wasn't sure what his reaction to this was. I saw him bite the inside of his cheek, and I patted his other hand.
He looked at me fleetingly, before returning his gaze to the floor.
"One hundred patrons… the same as last time…" I heard him murmured to himself, and I gripped his hand tighter.
"You look very handsome, Erik," I told him truthfully, pushing a strand of his thin black hair behind his ear. He looked up at me with surprise before kissing my forehead gently.
"You as well… Christine?" I nodded, to show him I was listening. "Thank you."
I knew he was thanking me for so much more than just the compliment. He thanked me for understanding him, though it might be hard, and for doing what no one else had. I truly loved him for everything he was, deformity or not.
"Not at all, my Angel," I replied. He smiled at me and pushed open the door to the grand foyer.
Below us a sea of swirling people danced to a lilting waltz, conducted by Monsieur Reyer. Everyone around us was wearing masks, and I supposed it was a Masquerade Ball, a smart move on Erik's part. My face felt unnaturally bare, being the only one not wearing a mask, but I tried to ignore the sensation.
I stood at the edge of the balcony, looking at the people below us.
I could see some of the ballerinas that had snuck in, creeping around the edge of the room conspicuously. Madame Giry was storming towards one pair of girls, like a bull that had just seen red.
Messieurs Andre and Firmin stood near the dance floor, chatting up a pair of girls with multiple layers of make-up on their faces to cover up any blotches they might have.
On the other side of the room, Carlotta Guidecelli was talking the ear off her new consort, Signor Atello, whom she had met in Italy. He had become a replacement for Piangi, and fortunately for him, didn't seem to mind having a complaining prima donna as a lover.
In the middle of the ballroom, Meg and Philippe were whirling in a circle with the other couples. They didn't break eye contact, other than when Meg fluttered her eyelashes at him, causing him to blush pink. Even from this far away, I could see the glittering pearl resting on her finger.
A little ways away, Raoul stood in the middle of a pack of dreamy eyed girls, all gazing at him as if he was a statue of Adonis. I smirked as he puffed out his chest, taking a girl on each arm.
Erik looked down at me, a suspicious grin on his face, and I returned it, knowing what he wanted to do.
For no apparent reason, Raoul screamed, jumping about a foot in the air. I couldn't help but laugh, as he looked around wildly for the source of Erik's voice, which had just whispered in his ear.
His gaze rested on Erik and I, standing at the top of the staircase. He began to gesture at us, forgetting his gentlemanly air for the moment.
In response, I curtsied, which only seemed to enrage him further. Looking around at the girls at his left and right, Raoul offered to lead them away. They glanced at him in disgust and stalked of to other gentlemen.
Shooting me a dirty look, he stormed out of the ballroom. I felt Erik take my waist gently and I laid my head on his shoulder.
Everything was as it should have been at the Opera Populaire.