If you want E/C, DO NOT READ. The story ends in the previous chapter for you guys, just pretend like it does, okay? That way I can please everyone.

Prequel and one-shot(s) to be posted next, but it may be a little while. I need to catch up on my other fics.

Thank you to everyone who read this fic, especially you reviewers! I hope you all enjoyed it, I certainly did. First fic down! Yay!

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10 years later...

Sweden, 1895

I stood at the edge of the sea. Lilac was barefoot in the sand, letting the cool water creep up over her white toes.

I didn't want to go inside the house. It was so difficult to live with two ghosts.

"Mama?" Lilac giggled. "Won't you come play?"

"I'm a bit tired today, dearie."

A gust of salty wind. She turned to me with inquisitive eyes.

"When is Papa going to die?" She asked.

I blinked twice, "I don't know."

"But he's been sick for a while now."

"He's not sick. He's fading. When people are old and they lose someone special, sometimes they fade away from sorrow."

"Because Fillie is in heaven?"

I bit back tears, "Yes, because she's in heaven..."

"But she's been there for over a year."

"Lilac, I would prefer not to talk about this right now. Go play."

In seeing my eyes, she obeyed.

I sighed. I ought to go inside now, be sure Erik wasn't forgetting who he was again. Yesterday he had thought we were beneath the opera house still, and I was coming for a lesson...

"Christine?" He called happily as I entered. "Is that you, my dear?"

"It's me..." I sighed, putting on a smile. "Why are you out of bed?"

"I wanted to buy you flowers..." He glanced around with pale eye. "I think."

"Oh, that's alright. I have plenty, look," I gestured to the vases on the dining table.

"Oh..." he whispered. "C-could you lie down with me?"

"If you want, but why?"

"I sometimes forget..." he trailed off. "You look beautiful today. Is it your birthday?"

"N- yes. You bought me this dress and lots of flowers, and chocolates."

"Good, good... Where are the children?"

"The boys are playing upstairs, Euphrasie is in the study practicing her French, and Lilac is playing by the sea."

"What about Félicité?" He asked, then he glanced towards the door to the silent music room. "Oh, I hear her, she's playing, isn't she?"

"Yes, Erik, she's playing..." I sighed. He often heard her playing in his mind. "You should play with her."

"Yes, where's my violin?"

"I'll get it for you."

By the time I was back, this was all forgotten.

The children kept it from becoming too miserable to bear, and mostly he stayed in his bedroom, having nightmares or crying. I forced myself to share a bed with him at night, but I barely slept because he kept waking up, stricken with terror or confused at something. I sometimes woke with bruises from him clutching or kicking me in his sleep.

When the month ended, however, he couldn't get out of bed anymore, and he thought I was Félicité. He kept speaking to me like I was his daughter until the very last day. The very last, terrible day...

"C-Christine?" He whispered, his voice crackling as his heart skipped. "You're engaged... to the vicomte... aren't you?"

"I... Yes, I am." Don't cry, he mustn't see.

"I want you... to be... happy with him."

"I love you, Erik."

"I love you... Christine."

I kissed him, and watched him fade away entirely. I didn't allow the children to see him.

He was buried in Sweden, as I assumed it would mean a lot to him to be buried in my homeland. We covered his grave with white flowers and lilacs.

"Did you love him?" Euphrasie asked me when we were alone a few weeks later.

I glanced down at my mourning dress. I wore a black veil, mostly to hide my eyes red from crying.

"Love is a very difficult thing," I replied. "But I would say that I did."

"Why did you marry him, though? You've never told me anything."

"I know... I'll tell you when you're a bit older."

"But what happened?"

"I said, I'll tell you when you're a bit older!" I snapped. "I'm sorry, I... I'm just so..."

"I shouldn't have said that... I just..."

"No, no, it's alright. You should know everything at some point..." I glanced out the window. "Would you run an errand for me?"

"What, maman?"

"I need you to send a letter."

"To whom?"

"A friend of mine..."

France, 1897

I refused to be married in white. I was a widow, after all. So I wore blue, a blue far too youthful to me, as the crinkles in my smile had worn into my features, and a few white hairs already had grown in along with the blonde.

The day before, though, I ran to Raoul in tears.

"You shouldn't marry me, you shouldn't!" I pleaded

"And why not? What's wrong, my love?"

"D-don't call me that, don't... I'm not... You shouldn't have me, I'm not worth you."

"I'm not worth you... What's this about? Is this about your fear you won't give me children still? I've told you, I didn't want to marry you to continue the de Chagny line, that's ludicrous... What's wrong?"

I buried my head in his chest, weeping, "I'm not pure, I'm not young."

"I'm only a year older than you. Thirty-six isn't so terrible."

"But... why do you still want me? After everything, how much I've changed, you still want me, and I don't understand it."

"Because I love you."

"Why this change of heart about marriage, though?"

I pulled away from his chest, and he swallowed.

"My brother... w-when he passed away, he told me just before that... that I needed to marry someone, anyone. He said that was his dying wish, that I needed someone to be with, even if it was only a chorus girl... I had been lovesick for years, and he thought I would forget you, but when I never did, he kept asking me to take leave so he could present me with beautiful and wealthy young women, hoping I might forget you for them. But I couldn't."

"Perhaps you're mad. Perhaps we're both mad-"

"Then let's be mad!" He declared. "I want to be mad, you make me mad, Christine, please let me have you now, as my wife. I love you more than anything in this whole world, since the moment I met you."

I embraced him, "I love you, too... I-I've never stopped... Was that selfish of me?"

"No one can be perfect... No, I don't think so."

"Erik would be happy with this... He told me, as he left, that he wanted me to be happy."

He kissed my hand, "Are you?"

"I've never been so happy... Save when I had the babies, of course, but even then... I love you, Raoul."

"I love you, too."

We were married the following day in a small wedding. The Persian came, though he was weakening in his old age. He was happy for me. He said Erik would have wanted this.

"Thank you, Erik," I said to heaven, though he likely wasn't there. "Thank you for telling me to be happy. How happy I am right now."

Perhaps he was in heaven. Who knows? Perhaps I had saved him.

But at least now I had saved myself.

FIN