I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

Christine was awakened from a fitful sleep in the middle of the night by the sound of footsteps and the creak of a door opening. She sat up in bed to find Meg standing in the doorway. She was wet from the rain that had been falling steadily that evening; her sodden clothes stuck to her in odd places and made her figure look misshapen. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked uncharacteristically tired, but it didn't seem to be a simply a physical fatigue. Meg looked emotionally drained as well.

"Where were you?" Christine whispered when she was awake enough to realize she wasn't dreaming.

"I had to talk to someone," Meg said.

Christine gestured for her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Who?" she asked, unable to keep the word from stretching out into a yawn..

"Léon Binet's widow," Meg answered, sitting on the edge of Christine's bed with her knees tucked against her chest.

Christine was beginning to remember that Meg was the reason she had been getting so little sleep. "What did you want with her? We were all worried about you," she said accusingly.

"I wanted to tell her about Henri. I wanted her to know I was sorry." There was a sincere appeal in Meg's eyes that caused the rebukes to die on Christine's lips.

"Meg, why didn't you just tell someone?" Christine asked.

"I didn't want Henri to find out," Meg said.

Christine said, "Has he hurt you?"

"No," Meg replied, "but I think he might."

"What took you so long to get here?" Christine asked.

"The Binets don't live in Paris," Meg answered.

"Did you walk all the way there? You should have told someone where you were," Christine said.

"I know," Meg said, "It probably wasn't worth it, but I wanted her to know I didn't want him to die."

"I see. What are you going to do about Henri?" Christine said, even though she really didn't understand Meg's reasoning. She still felt angry that Meg didn't tell her where she was going. Didn't Meg trust her enough to tell her something like this? Christine had shared her biggest secret with Meg at the Masked Ball, and she felt hurt that Meg couldn't do the same for her.

"Wait until he goes deaf," Meg said uncertainly. She was fully aware of how weak her plan sounded, but she didn't see any other way to deal with Henri.

"He's going to want to know where you were today," Christine said, "You don't have that kind of time."

"Hopefully he won't ask until we've come up with some excuse," Meg said, rising to leave.

"Wait, Meg," Christine said, "I'm sorry I got mad earlier. That was wrong; I should have believed you."

"Apology accepted. Good night," Meg said, slipping out the door as quietly as she could. It was one of the last times they would speak to each other face to face.

Henri was waiting for her in the hallway. His lips were set in a taut line, and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. He glared reproachfully and unflinchingly down at Meg as a thunder clap boomed, making her jump.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

"Why should I tell you?" Meg shot back. She sounded more brave than she felt, but she hoped Henri didn't see past her show of bravado.

"Because I care about where you were," he replied. His eyes softened for a moment, and for an instant, Meg believed he wasn't angry with her. The feeling passed almost as soon as it came.

She tried to push past him and leave, but her blocked her. She crossed her arms in front of her body, mimicking him and sighing.

"Meg, I care about you. Is that wrong?" he asked.

"Leave me alone." She started walking down the hall agitatedly, and Henri kept up with her. Meg stopped when they found themselves on the opera's empty, darkened grand staircase. The new electric lights, turned off for the night, cast strange, spindly shadows on the floor. Meg thought they looked like spider legs. She shuddered, being alone in such a eerie environment with Henri.

"You're not going anywhere with out telling me," Henri said, putting his hands on her shoulders. Meg shrugged him off instinctively and violently and pushed him away from her. She barely had time to register what had happened when she heard Henri's head strike the corner of a marble step and split with a sickening thump that echoed in her head long after the sound died away. For a moment the grisly scene was lit up brilliantly by a lightning bolt. She stared at the body and the growing pool of blood with a mix of disbelief, horror, and shock before she ran off in search of her mother and shook the entire opera house with a seismic wave that would reverberate long afterwards.

Erik was ready to leave the opera early that morning. He didn't know what information about him could turn up in the investigation regarding Henri's death, so he decided to leave until he knew he was safe in Paris. No one said that he might not come back, but the looks on the Giry's faces as they said goodbye showed him that they knew it was a possibility.

As soon as Christine heard what happened to Henri, she rushed down to the cellars to speak to Erik. When he saw her dashing down in her nightgown before the sun was up, he knew something was wrong. Stress made her unaware of her appearance, but Erik noticed. He hated himself for thinking about that when Christine was so upset.

"Henri's dead," she said immediately, answering his questions before he could voice them, "Meg accidentally killed him. You need to leave." She was in tears before she finished the speech. She had repressed her fears about Meg, but the emotions were starting to pour out along with her tears.

"Did you come here to say goodbye?" Erik asked, unsure of how to react to Christine crying.

"No. If you're going to run, I want to come with you," Christine said.

"I can't ask you to leave everything here behind. You have to stay."

"You forget that if they find anything about you, fingers will point to me. I'm stuck with you, whether you like it or not."

"I shouldn't be ruining everything for you," Erik said. He should have known that his romance with Christine was doomed, but he was only beginning to accept it now. If he was supposed to be with her, he wouldn't look the way he did.

"We can find another opera if we need to," Christine said, her mind starting to fill with possibilities, "or we can make some excuse and come back here when this all blows over"

Erik was pained by how sincere and eager Christine was, and he knew he couldn't refuse her, even if he thought she was making the wrong decision.

"Go pack. Say goodbye to the Girys if you can and meet me here," he said.

Christine hugged him quickly and tightly before she ran back upstairs. He felt her warm skin under her nightgown; it was very different than the corset or petticoats he was used to. Christine didn't notice, but she was aware that he was somehow acquiescing to her. She wasn't quite sure why, but she was grateful for it anyway.

"Thank you," she whispered.

When she returned to her room, Christine packed hurriedly, throwing her clothes into a bag without really paying attention or folding them. All she wanted to do was leave because she was sure she'd be back at the opera soon. In her haste to depart, she didn't even write a note to Meg or Madame Giry.

Christine hoisted her bag over her shoulder and went down once more to the cellars of the opera.

The End

Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed! This story would not have gotten to the end if it were not for your support and criticisms. I apologize very much for the lateness of the final chapter, but it was hard for me to really say that I was done.