Padme's author's note: Sorry about the huge delay! You can blame it all on me. I was very sick, several times. I hope the long wait was worth it. I had a blast writing this.

1Christine and the Phantom

Chapter 11: The End and the Epilogue

Erik flung the narrow rooftop door open, inadvertently creating a tunnel of wind in the small stairwell. The dual assault of wind and chill caught Christine by surprise; reflexively she wrapped her arms around her waist. Outside, the near-black night beckoned to her seductively, but she hesitated in the doorway, wary of the dark.

Some steps away, Erik seemed to sense that she had stopped following. He turned the unmasked side of his face to see what stayed her, slightly raising an eyebrow when he could see no palpable impediment. He stretched out his arm, beckoning to her, and Christine timidly stepped forward, lightly accepting the offered limb. The cool of the night only enhanced the warmth of his hold and Christine reveled in the heat of the slight touch.

His grip tightened and suddenly he pulled Christine in front of him so that she stood close to the edge of the roof, overlooking the grounds of the castle as well as the faintest outline of her village. Twenty–no, nineteen–thin trails of smoke rose into the air and the yellow glow of firelight spilled from the windows. Closing her eyes, Christine tried to imagine the heady smell of wood smoke, bringing up instead a memory of her father playing the violin.

The pain was sharp as ever. However, the feeling slowly faded as she held Erik's hand. She missed her father terribly, but within that grief Christine was discovering a kernel of appreciation for the man beside her. For the first time since her father died, Christine felt hopeful about the future.

She turned her face to the sky and slowly opened her eyes. Sighing deeply, Christine allowed a small smile to grow as she stared at the large moon, full and complete, encompassing the sky.

A few feet behind her, Erik shifted uneasily. "Do you like it?"

Turning to him, she held his gaze as she said earnestly, "It's breathtaking, Erik."

The corner of his stern mouth lifted slightly, "I'm glad you approve."

She raised a delicately shaped eyebrow at him, "Are you mocking me, milord?" The wind blew against her; a violent chill coursed through her body. Instantly, Erik pulled her back from the sharp drop of the roof, wrapping his cloak around her thin frame.

Tilting up her chin with a long slender finger, he looked deep into her eyes before replying, "Mocking you? Never."

)–\–

Raoul cleared the woods, approaching the rusting gates slowly. Puzzled, he kicked the crumbling stone wall, wondering why Christine would keep a lover so obviously in need of funds. The mansion was grand, indeed, but ill-cared for. Never would one see a Chagny wall in need of repair or a garden overcome with weeds. Why would she want this?

He stealthily tethered his horse to a nearby tree and slipped silently through the massive gates. Raoul crouched in the darkness with one hand carefully guarding the gleaming pistol in his left coat pocket. It thrilled him, the feel of the cold barrel in his hands, and he stroked it possessively. He had never shot a man before, but he knew this experience would not phase him in the least.

Two distant figures on the flat rooftop caught his eye, and instantly he recognized Christine, her hair and skirts whipping in the night breeze. The tall cloaked man beside her reached his arm towards her, and Raoul trembled in anger. He clenched his fists as he saw the man take her in his arms and press her close to him.

Raoul's fury dulled into a chilling calm and, still in the shadows, he crept towards the castle with a grim look of determination. Instead of entering the house, he found the stones in the wall of the mansion and began to climb, gripping the narrow ledges tightly as he pulled himself up towards the stars.

)–/–

Christine sighed into Erik's chest, reveling in the solid warmth he emanated. She could imagine herself here, at Castle Nuit, for a long time. With her father dead and all ties severed with the outside world, she was finally beginning to realize the possibilities that awaited her here. She had found a sister in Meg, adoptive parents in Madame Giry and Nadir, and a man who loved her – a man she could love back.

She raised her head and whispered his name. He looked down at her, staring into her clouded eyes long enough to forget everything around him.

Only the introduction of a third party aroused Erik's senses. Raoul stood a mere ten feet away from the couple, moonlight glinting off the pistol he had trained on them. Theatrically, Raoul shouted, "Unhand her, you fiend!"

Erik's arms tightened protectively around Christine. "Fiend? I believe you are mistaken. I am not the one aiming a gun." Erik casually told Raoul.

The young man moved steadily toward the pair, "I find it tedious to repeat myself, but I must insist you remove yourself from Christine or I shall be forced to shoot both of you."

Instinct kicked in, and Erik pulled Christine behind him, whispering, "Christine, when I move forward, run back to the staircase and go to your room. Lock the doors and stay there till I come."

"But Erik…"

"Don't argue with me, just do it."

Raoul pulled his thumb across the hammer, the barrel clicking, as it rotated into place. "You should do as he says Christine. I don't want to hurt you – I love you."

Christine cast a last glance at Erik before retreating to the shadow of the door. The masked man was aware of Raoul's eyes watching Christine's every moment; stealthily he reached into his cloak.

"I'd stop what you were doing, monsieur. I could easily shoot you right now." His eyes swiveled back

Ignoring Raoul, Erik fingered the well-worn piece of catgut in his pocket. It brought a security to him that no gun ever had. He watched the boy closely for his chance.

"Raoul, please!" Christine cried. "He hasn't done anything to you."

He turned his head sharply, staring directly at her. "Au contraire, Christine. He has taken you from me."

Erik chose that moment to ensnare Raoul with the lasso. The rope tightened on the young man's throat. Like a well-trained killer, Erik read the panic growing in Raoul's eyes. The vicomte gasped for air, his free hand going to his neck in a futile effort to relieve the pinching of Punjab lasso.

Ina desperate attempt to free himself, the foolish man squeezed the trigger of the pistol he had leveled at his opponent.

Christine screamed; Erik jerked backwards, the bullet hitting him in the chest. The backfire from the gun snapped Raoul's head as the rope pulled his neck forward, the rapidness of motions breaking the young man's spine.

Christine ran forward, skinning her knees when she threw herself at Erik's side. She took him in her arms, resting his head in her lap. His mask had been knocked off when he fell; the shadows falling on his face deepened the wrinkles of the deformed side of his face. Death was claiming him, emphasizing the pocks and scars of his face, creating a grotesque death's head.

Christine frantically pressed a hand onto the wound in the middle of his chest. Blood flowed up between her fingers, coating them crimson. Erik choked on the liquid that was pooling in his lungs beneath her; a small trail of scarlet trickled down from the side of his mouth.

"Shh...don't try to talk; it'll be ok, you'll see" Her whispered words were choked with emotion.

Erik lifted a hand to her face tracing her cheekbone. Christine leaned her head into the touch, watching Erik blink. "Erik, I–"

His eyes suddenly stilled as his hand dropped away, a smear of blood scarred her alabaster cheek.

Christine crushed her body to his lifeless one and pressed her head into his deformed cheek.

"No, no, you can't leave me," she whispered, "I love you."

)–/–

In the darkness of the antechamber, the last petal on the enchanted rose fell.

)–/–

Unbeknownst to the weeping woman, a star twinkled brightly in the sky. The winking object detached itself from its spot and floated down, the emanating glow growing stronger with its descent. About a meter above the ground, the star spread out into the shape of a woman in a red dress with ice blonde hair, one green eye and one blue eye—both sans pupils. Two huge gossamer wings flitted behind her.

"My dear Christine, do you truly mean that?" Her melodious voice startled the girl.

She looked up; tears streaked down her face. "Who are you?"

The Enchantress smiled, ignoring the simpering woman's question. "But what of his face?"

Christine looked down, a sad smile flashed across her features; "It doesn't matter anymore. I was foolish to think it ever did. Now he's dead and I never had a chance to tell him…"

The Enchantress's smile widened and she floated down to the ground to kneel by Erik's side. She unclenched a balled fist over the prone corpse, releasing a glowing orb of light.

Protectively, Christine demanded, "What are you doing?"

The Enchantress pressed the luminescent orb into the gunshot wound, murmuring, "You'll see that death is sometimes fleeting." With those last words, her body exploded in a bright array of light.

Beneath Christine, Erik stirred.

"Christine?" His voice was hoarse.

Laughing, she hugged Erik to her body and pressed frantic kisses all over his face. "You're alive, Erik!"

"So I am, for the moment," Erik cautiously felt his chest for the bullet and wound. The only thing left was the torn and bloody clothing over the smooth, muscular contours of his chest. The moonlight caught in his blue gaze as he stared up at her. "Christine..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, "Let me say it first. I love you, Erik." And then she smiled her most dazzling smile at him.

Surprise swept over his features before another thought occurred to him. Abandoned next to her leg, lay his mask. "Christine, my face!"

)–/–

Epilogue, several months later

Erik wrapped an arm around Christine's waist, pulling her against him. He leaned his face into her hair, inhaling the rose scent that clung to her mahogany curls. Careful of both their masks, he moved down the side of her head nipping gently at her throat.

Her hand caressed the unmasked side of his face. "Erik..." Her voice came from deep within her throat, lending a husky quality to it. "Someone will see, this isn't proper."

"Well then, let them see." He continued to pay attention to her neck and jaw line. Her hand lazily stroked his clean-shaven cheek; Erik knew she could not bring herself to take her hand away.

From their vantage point in a corner behind a marble column, the Masquerade ball continued, the missing couple unnoticed.

The clock started to chime twelve times, signifying the New Year. Erik pulled away from Christine's neck to look into her eyes; "Do I get to see my bride's face now?"

"Only if I get to see the groom's."

"Agreed." Together, they removed each other's masks.

)--/--

Read and Review, please!

Jazzetry's author's note: Well, this is it. I hope you've enjoyed reading this and thank you to all our wonderful reviewers! You've really made writing this a treat…

Continue to check out Padme's other fanfics, as well as my own work posted under the same name at Thanks again for your support.