A/N: I just want to write out a little thank you to all my reviewers thus far... Any and all anonymus guests, grapejuice101, Savannah White, Aria, PhantomWriter44, DeadAndLovely, Geezworld234, O.G., Cereza101, E-man-dy-S, Filhound, RedDeathLvr, ChocolatyMinds, TendernessOfTheHeart, kittykat4thewin, Lycoris1305, chaz1997, lbjw0128, vmall17, lunerusso, michellecarriveau, emerald silverton, DreamaLirit, some phantom fan, Unknown, and Lydia the tygeropean, thank you all so much for leaving your thoughts behind as to what you thought of the story thus far :) You have my eternal gratitude!

I own nothing of "Phantom of the Opera", "Phantom" (those are owned by Leroux and Kay, respectively). Please, as always, let me know what you thought of the chapter and I will see you all next time!

Chapter Twenty-Seven – The Little Things in Life

"How far do you suppose he got?" Raoul asked as they trekked deeper into the cellars, having lost sight of any signs of the scoundrel. They had followed a trail of blood until it got lost in the midst of a particular corridor ridden with an assortment of trapdoors that Erik had placed years ago. Erik had helped them find another way through, but now they were uncertain as to which trapdoor Cutler might have fallen through.

"It couldn't have been that far, not with all these traps untouched," Erik informed them, using his good arm to raise the lantern into air to get a better look.

"There!" Henri pointed, catching sight of a stain near one particular opening. "Do you see it?"

The six men squinted at the spot, nodding as they each saw it and acknowledged it as blood. "Erik, where does this one lead to…? Erik?" Philippe asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw Erik's eyes widen.

"Oh…I know where he is." Turning on his heel, he motioned for them to follow. "This way!"

"What is it, Maestro?" asked Adrien as he hurried to his teacher's side.

"Erik, that looked like-" the Daroga started.

"It is. Erik hopes he didn't get into the house," the Phantom confessed as he led them through an intricate series of passages and darkened hallways dimly lit by torches, some left in obscurity and infested with rats.

"Pardon, but just what do you mean by that?" Henri asked, cocking his head at their strange conversation.

"Wait! Daroga, wasn't that the tunnel we used to find Erik's home last time?" Raoul asked, the memory flashing before his very eyes. "That's the tunnel that led to…to-!"

"The torture chamber!" Erik, Raoul, and Nadir all said at once, causing Philippe, Adrien, and Henri to pale at the news.

"You don't suppose-?" Adrien asked.

"Hurry," Nadir urged them. "Though I fear we may be too late to stop him now."

They ran after Erik in silence, each one of them thinking the same thing: "Is he dead? Or must we kill him together?" Really, there was no other way to get around it. Each one of them feared for their beloveds, and if they did managed to stun Randall Cutler long enough to capture him and hand him to the police, there would be questions…and he would find a way to escape. Adelshire had warned them about him – when he wanted something, he wouldn't stop. No one wanted to be a murderer, but when the safety and lives of their loved ones, as well as those in the opera, was at stake, they had all agreed they would work together to put an end to this nightmare.

"Strange," thought Erik, as they got into the boat and rowed faster than they had even done so before. "A month ago, had these men been given the chance, it would have be me they would be hunting down…how the tide has changed." Leaping onto the bank, he checked the area with his glowing eyes, making sure there would be no attack from behind. "Come," he whispered. "Be silent."

Unlocking the door, he listened carefully before opening his home to the others. Peeking inside, he motioned for them to follow him, all five men behind him on their guard and armed. Erik immediately went for the wall of the Louis-Philippe room, peeking through the slot.

"He's not here," Raoul whispered to the others as he returned from the drawing room.

"Nor here," Adrien and Henri shook their heads.

"He's not down the hall, or in any of the other rooms," Philippe added.

Nadir stood still, watching as Erik pulled away from the wall, casually fixing his tie. "Erik. Did he…?"

"He did," Erik answered coolly, allowing his voice to rise above a whisper. "Have a look." He held back a breath of relief as he remembered he had left his new pet with the Jouberts. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if the puppy made his way into the room, or if Randall had gotten his hands on him.

They all crowded around the little slot, each one taking their turn. They each left it feeling repulsed and strangely relieved. There he was, hanging from the iron gibbet within the "jungle" Erik had created.

"It's over…he's gone for good," breathed Philippe, placing his hand over his heart.

"Yes…now, how are we going to explain this to Rupert?" Erik asked, stroking his chin in thought.

"How about the truth, Erik?" the Persian frowned. "No more stories or lies. Just the truth. He has already accepted that you are the Phantom of the Opera, you may as well explain this to him."

"Oh, very well," Erik shook his head as he waved him off.

"Oddly enough, I can't say I feel sorry for the monster," Raoul muttered, earning a dirty look from Erik. "Not you, I mean him!" he pointed to the wall, exasperated.

"That room is…extraordinary!...and gruesome," Henri commented, glancing back at the slot and grimacing. "Rather creative."

"Thank you…now, if you'll excuse me a moment, I'm off to get rid of the body," Erik announced, heading for his room. "Shouldn't be away too long."

"Why does his nonchalant manner of dealing with carcasses give me the willies?" Raoul asked.

"Never mind that," Adrien shook his head. "At least now we can all breathe a little easier…right?"

~OG~

For those that were not performing in Don Juan Triumphant, they certainly could breathe easier. For those who were involved…they still had three full weeks of grueling practice ahead of them. Erik proved to be meticulous, as both manager and Opera Ghost, striving to make this the most incredible performance in all existence. His mind raced and never stopped considering all possibilities and outcomes, often causing him to go on for days without sleep.

"Erik, I wish you would get some rest," Angelique pleaded as he finished a lesson with her in their home under the opera.

"Erik cannot rest until Don Juan Triumphant is finally performed," he repeated, the phrase becoming a mantra to him. "Then, Erik will sleep like the dead."

"Please don't say that," she frowned.

"It is an expression, mon ange. Erik would not dare to consider death, not when he finally has everything – or nearly everything – he has dreamed of," he promised her with a weary smile, stroking the puppy's ears as the feisty canine pawed at his leg. "Erik just needs a moment…" He walked into his room, mumbling something to himself about flowers in the foyer, the door moving as if to shut, though it did not make it all the way.

Gathering Paien in her arms, Angelique coddled the pup. "You're getting to be as stubborn as your new Papa, Paien," she smirked, accepting a wet kiss on her lips from their "baby". It was her idea, calling Paien the "baby", and while Erik fought it at first, he found the idea endearing and soon called himself the dog's 'Papa' while she became his 'Mama'. "Come, little Paien, it's time for supper," she cooed, carrying the complacent "child" off towards the kitchen.

After she had fed Paien and herself, she returned to the drawing room, her brows furrowed when she did not see Erik. "He couldn't have left, could he?" She walked towards his room, the puppy following her happily as she stepped inside the mausoleum-like quarters. She smiled as she saw him slumped on his desk, his quill still in his hand. She tiptoed to the coffin bed, grabbing the blanket when she heard the puppy playfully growling. "Paien!" scolded him in a whisper. "Stop that!"

It was too late. The puppy, having grabbed hold of Erik's trousers with his teeth, tugged playfully on it, thus stirring Erik out of his slumber. "Mhm…Paien, you little devil," Erik chuckled sleepily, abandoning his work and picking the dog up in his arms.

"Erik, go to sleep, won't you?" she pleaded, wrapping the blanket around him. "Please? For me? For yourself?"

He grumbled, still much too stubborn, when an idea flared into her mind. "Erik, the puppy's still anxious in the dark…what if he slept in my room?"

"Fine," he waved it off.

"But he likes being with you. Erik…why don't you change and we can all snuggle together in my bed?"

His head snapped up, his mind suddenly alert as she made the suggestion.

"For Paien?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"You little minx," he murmured, a sly smile on his face. Heaving a sigh of defeat, he took his mask off and nodded. "Very well…I'll just be a moment." He gave her the dog before unbuttoning his jacket, watching her exit the room. He knew she was teasing him – they had both come to an agreement that there was to be no affair between them, but she loved to be close to him as much as possible, and though he couldn't fathom how on Heaven or Earth anyone would want to feel his skin against theirs, he did not protest. With the puppy, they had found an excuse to lie together just to enjoy each other's presence, and Erik found that he had been able to fall asleep much more easily, which pleased and irritated him all at once. There were so many things to do, and yet he couldn't refuse her a few moments rest, especially if she wanted to be there with him. There was nothing sexual – though the fierce, tempting thoughts had crossed his mind more than once – and he didn't mind it. She trusted him, and he trusted himself to be strong…most of the time. He was beginning to dream of the day when he could really call her his own, to see her waiting for him in a private room, to hold hands in public, to take her out on Sundays, to see a ring on her finger and knowing she wore it proudly-

"A ring!" he thought, the words echoing in his mind as they did in his room. "I need to get her a ring…" "Once Don Juan is performed, once I am announced as the official manager, I shall ask her…" The plan was sound and simple, but his stomach was assaulted with butterflies. While their courtship was short, he knew that many an arranged marriage took place in one night, the couple not knowing one thing about the other. Angelique and Erik were certainly not strangers to one another – they were madly in love (at least, he knew he was), and though they had the occasional spat (such as time he suggested to leave up the torture room after what had happened with Randall, or when she snapped at him for rearranging a pattern she had hoped to use for one of the main costumes), they still loved each other at the end of the day. He felt as if he had known her a lifetime, and he wanted to be with her for the rest of his days.

Finally set in his sleeping shirt and trousers, he threw his robe on and walked for her room, his eyelids heavy with sleep. Knocking lightly on the door, he heard her response and opened it, a tired smile growing on his unmasked face as he saw her beneath the covers, humming sweetly to the now drowsy puppy.

"Your voice improves each and every day," he yawned, lying atop the comforter of the bed.

"I have the best teacher in the world," she smiled, reaching over and touching his face.

He covered her hand with his, bringing it over to kiss her palm. "Mon ange…you are everything to me."

"As you are for me," she whispered, resting against his chest as tiny Paien rested on his back and closed his eyes, giving a contented sigh. "I love you, Erik."

"Not as much as I love you, Angelique," he said, finally letting the waves of drowsiness overtake him as he remained with his little family.

~OG~

Madame Giry fixed her bonnet as she checked another of the boxes, nodding her head as she inspected each aspect of the seats. She was awfully busy these days, catering to the needs of the ballet mistress as her assistant had fallen ill from hay fever, as well as checking on small renovations made in the boxes of the opera house. Still, she was happy as she worked, glad that she was needed and not just seen as some wild old woman who believed and worked for a ghost. The manager himself, though she had never met him in person, had sent notes to her in which he had other tasks for her to complete, such as running errands or even assisting Angelique whenever she was working on costumes. She had inspected the note thoroughly, the man's writing nearly identical to the Phantom's. "Could it be that Monsieur Chevalier is…? Ha! I truly am getting old," she shook her head with a little smile. "That is quite impossible-"

"Mgh!" someone grunted as she bumped against him, off in her own little world as she moved towards Box Five. The cloaked man was leaving the manager's office, a box falling from his hand and onto the wine-hued carpeted floor.

"Ah! Pardon, monsieur!" she pleaded, kneeling down at once to grab the small parcel. "Please forgive an old, senile woman-"

"Nonsense," the man chuckled, the voice sending goosebumps down her spine as she heard him speak. It was his voice…but it couldn't be! "Madame thinks too little of herself…allow me."

Turning her head, she found herself staring at a strange man, one she had only vaguely caught glimpses of. He was often seen with the Persian or even Angelique before he mysteriously vanished. He had an angular, but otherwise normal, face, though there was something stiff about his nose and his eyes appeared to burn like golden flames in the shadows. His long, thin, gloved hand took the box from the floor before his arm moved towards her, holding the small turquoise parcel aloft in the air before her. It was not until this moment that she actually scrutinized the box, a gasp of wonder escaping her as she saw it was a box of English toffees, the very same that her employer, the Opera Ghost, would offer her every so often as a small token of gratitude.

"Oh…oh my!" she breathed. "Are you-?"

"Erik Chevalier, new manager of the Palais Garnier," he introduced himself with a flourish of his hand, offering it to her afterwards to get the old woman back onto her feet. "At your service, Madame Giry."

"Y-You know my name?" she blinked, stupefied.

"I know the names of all who live and work in this place," he chuckled. "Ah, I was told to give you this." He offered the box once more to her, watching her take it with shaking hands.

"W-Wh-Who told y-you to give th-these to me?" she stammered, unable to believe what was happening.

"The Opera Ghost," Erik answered, bowing his head to her. "He was rather adamant that you receive this small token of his appreciation for all your years of service to him."

"H-He…he found my little Meg a suitor," she said, her eyes watching him with fierce intensity. "Sh-She will be an empress!"

"Of sorts," he smiled wryly. "She appears to be happy with my young friend, Henri."

"Friend…? Yes…yes, she is," she nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Very happy…Mon Dieu."

"You look as if you'd seen a ghost, Madame," he said coolly, ushering her forth towards Box Five. "Perhaps you need a rest."

"I…I cannot," she shook her head vehemently, though she accepted his arm as he brought her into the mysterious Box Five and helped her sit down. "I still have so much to do, so much to be done! He would not be pleased to see me stopping now."

"Stopping what?" he asked, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

"My work…I work for him, monsieur," she answered firmly, though she quivered as she realized who he was.

"Him?" Chevalier's voice was distant now, almost as if he were on the other side of the room.

"The Phantom, monsieur," she whispered. "I shall not stop working for him."

"I am most delighted to hear that, Madame Juliette," the voice echoed around her, causing her to jump up from her seat and spin around in shock. Erik Chevalier had vanished from sight, but his voice remained within the box, and his voice was the same she had been hearing since she began working at that fine establishment. "I had hoped you would say that. Consider the sweets a small 'thank you' for all your hard, fine work…you shall continue to be rewarded should you wish to continue serving in any way possible."

She bobbed her head to signal the affirmative, a proud smile growing on her lips. "Always, monsieur. You may count upon me…I shall never falter, and I shan't share this secret with anyone."

"I knew you would. Thank you, Madame Giry. That is all for today…until we meet again."

She remained standing, her fingers curling tightly around the elegant box of toffees as she listened to the silence around her, knowing that he had already left. Her smile remained on her face as she allowed herself to pop one of the treats into her mouth before stuffing the box into her basket and bobbing a curtsy to no one in particular. Readjusting her shawl, she left Box Five with a little spring in her step, whistling merrily as she walked along.

~OG~

"I never thought I would live to see this day," Nadir commented as he watched Erik with wide eyes. "I must be dead, or dreaming."

"Oh, do be quiet, won't you?" Erik frowned, sending him a dirty look over his shoulder before returning his gaze to the sparkling gems before him. "I'm concentrating."

"It's a wedding band, Erik, not an explosive chemical," Raoul rolled his eyes. "Really, one would think you were observing a cobra."

Erik bit his fake, second lip before grumbling, "Remind me why I had to go ring shopping with you two dolts."

"Because Philippe is occupied with Lord Adelshire at the moment, Adrien and Henri are back at the opera house, and if you asked one of Angelique's lovely friends, even my dear Christine, they would immediately squeal about this to her, whether they planned to or not," Raoul informed him, counting off the reasons on his gloved fingers.

"Oh, merde," Erik cursed, shaking his head. "Yes, because taking you both with me is such a brilliant idea. Daroga knows nothing of these sorts of things-"

"I beg to differ," the Persian frowned.

"And you were raised with a silver spoon in your mouth, so of course you know all about diamonds and rubies," Erik rolled his eyes, ignoring Nadir's outburst. His eyes were suddenly distracted by a small, simple band made of gold, the ends curling outward as they met, appearing like two yellow leaves. A single diamond lay at its center, not too big, not to small, glittering in the dying light of day.

"I see you've found something," Raoul said softly, smiling as he saw Erik's child-like wonder in his strange, haunting eyes. He motioned for the store owner to hustle over, taking a glance at the ring himself. "It's a fine choice, Erik."

Nadir nodded as he joined them, picturing Angelique's look of utter surprise and delight when Erik would reveal the ring to her. He couldn't help but cast Erik a smile, gripping his good shoulder – he was still recovering from the Cutler incident, after all – and saying, "Well done, my friend."

"How may I help you?" the man asked, beaming as Erik gently tapped the glass, pointing at his choice. "Ah! Your lady will love it, monsieur. Would you perhaps like an inscription inside? It could be arranged for a small fee."

"Yes," Erik said, accepting the paper and pencil in a trance when they were offered to him. He scribbled the message down quickly and asked, "Might I hold it? Just for a moment…?" He waited until the gentleman handed him the trinket, his fingers trembling as he imagined slipping this little band onto her finger, seeing her eyes light up and fill with tears all at once. "It's perfect."

Minutes later, the strange trio exited the store, making their way towards the Archambault home for supper, much to Erik's annoyance. He patted his vest pocket for the fifth time since they left, his heart thumping wildly within his chest.

"Oh come now, Erik, I must drop by to pick up Christine anyways," Raoul pouted. "I don't see why I can't stay for supper."

"Because you're an irritating fop, and just because I helped you does not mean I like you, and even though you may have a good reason to come, Erik does not comprehend why the both of you are so damn insistent on entering my second home!" he snapped, their stubborn determination grating on his nerves.

"As I said, I need to pick up Christine," the Vicomte sniffed. "You know all the girls are gathered here for some little tea party your Angelique threw."

"I am hungry," the Persian stated flatly, as if that was all the reason he needed to enter the house. "Besides, it is not legally your home yet, it's Angelique's. She likes having us over at any rate."

Erik grumbled, knowing he could fight the truth. It was Angelique's home, and she invited all those she cares for, and those who cared for her in turn. Still, they were awfully stubborn today…Slipping the key into the door, he unlocked it with a flick of his wrist before twisting the handle and ushering his guests inside. He frowned as he noticed how dark it was indoors, calling out to the household before shutting the door after him. "Angelique? Lamar? Adrien? Fanette? Paien?"

Suddenly, the room burst to life with light, blinding him for a moment as several figures popped out from behind the furniture of the drawing room, tossing flower petals into the air. "Surprise!" they all exclaimed, grinning as gleefully as children. "Congratulations, Erik!"