Hey guys.

Sorry it has taken so long. I wanted to make the last chapter good. There was a lot of thinking involved , lol xD and..I was banned from the computer for quite some time as well. I hope I haven't lost any of you guys! :(

It's been nice! I've really enjoyed all of your reviews :)

ExC fics are quite fun to write and plot, aren't they? Such a complicated relationship.

Well everyone, time for the end. Eh. I knew this would come pretty fast. I hope you all have enjoyed my story. I absolutely adore ALL reviews that have been or will be sent in. Thank you all.

Thank you c: Oh! And I added a link on my profile! To a forum website for Role-Playing and whatnot. If you all do not read this, I'll PM it to you. Or simply let me know if you want it in your review. Here it is, the last chapter..

.::PART TWO::.

Chapter Eighteen (Meg's POV)

The world around draws a tranquil feeling within. Yet with the calm atmosphere, my barriers are depleting with a rapid force. The night sky is coated in a thick layer of stardust. It illuminates the ground to a gentle glow. It is frightening how such a night could appear so peaceful.

He is there.

He always shall be.

Looming, watching, my personal hawk.

Sam.

Yet.. I cannot cease this pull. This twinge. Why? Why did I reply negatively?

I steal a glance. His fresh, outward disregard irks me. I scowl, and pull on ahead to shatter the last of the light to a stretching darkness. I gasp; Sam passes me by, lassoing me in a rope of uncertain sufficiency.

As his feather-light brush expands and vanishes, I am left with a rigid chest and an unhurried beat of heart.

The growling enters my ears before the fear has a chance to begin. In a flash, heads are raised. The wolves step from the leaking shadows. They glow with a significant anger in the bleak light of the moon. The hollowed eyes, protruding ribs and blood-stained jaws are visible. Yet only in dim flashes.

I fiddle with my dagger they have supplied me with. Then next my gun, my utmost priority in this trapped state. The others let out a few startled gasps, horrified shrieks to express their bewilderment and fear toward the larger menaces. Sam is the first to step forward. He will not be made the individual in distress at this moment. At least not yet.

His weapon is a pale outline in the dark.

"Sam.." I whisper harshly. "You do not have to do this. You could get killed!"

He mentally evades from my disquieting alert. I cannot stop him. I cannot cease his actions. Perhaps his ravenous vigor shall assist in approaching combat.

Raoul lets his foot crack against the dead leaves. All wolf eyes are trained to him. The Vicomte retreats with an unsteady pace, his limb shaking and at last reaching to power his torso with a vibrating fear. "Come, now, Sam. There is no need to intervene. Take Miss Giry's statement; you shall be killed if you take a step furthermore."

"I wouldn't find trouble if the pack as a whole took feast upon me, monsieur...!" Sam retorts. He takes his place beside him, towering above to try to increase false intimidations.

As the retaliations continue and fuming words streak madly across, the wolves are advancing closer. They have lost their fear of being without a leader; power abandonment has not struck them down yet.

Rita touches my shoulder, signaling I part and make way. I do as suggested, and step placidly aside to let the brush consume my form.

The small ballerina allows her throat a clear, and the men turn their heads and throw an impolite glare her way. Rita takes a stance, and fires once in the direction of the animals, grazing a tree to a fine point. They have yet to move. One flinches as a second is slashed through the air to hit the trembling branches above. When the third and last bullet makes a sharp and defining verge with the single, unfortunate beasts' flesh, the rest scatter as if the devil was upon them.

Rita turns and addresses the quarrelers with a smug look. "And that, my friends, is how you rid yourself of a beast."

Sam closes his slack, open jaw and shoves past Raoul. His imprudent actions have cost him yet another defeat.

"What? Am I sensing jealousy within?" I question as I make my way towards him. We are moving again, yet at a silent and less than casual gait as our anxiety and fear for our lives has topped to an unfamiliar height.

"Of-of course not!" Sam stammers, "Why would you ever accuse me of such a thing?"

I snort, and force this through, "You have always been an envious man, Sam, and shall surely die one."

...

(Raoul's POV)

The trees whisper vengeance, with an urging hiss of acclaim. Their approval of my hunt creates the drive within more powerful.

As the brush thins out, and streets become visible to mark apparent business nearby, the rest of my group senses this. Excitement is drawn through the air in a thick line, forming a barrier of enthusiasm for us all to trek.

I call joyously over my shoulder, "Not longer now, mates!"

I feel levity in this situation- and as some find this sickening, I find elate.

We trek onward upon cobblestone and dirt, seeming to travel to no discernible location. Yet, as the scorched, golden "palace" comes into our views, our gait is automatically quickened, without any orders by yours truly. We carefully pick our way across, and cut through the availing fog.

When we come upon the boarded doors, my hopes plummet to my feet until I'm left, abandoned with a former flame. "Well, we tried.." A man in the back of the crowd says, backing away slowly. Perhaps he has had too much, and indication has once more seized another. I motion with an irritated flick of my head, and soon enough the ignorant being is dragged back.

"An axe, please.." I rasp.

One is brought forth, and I accept with a slight tremor. I am not skilled in this weapon, and I ponder my ability and intelligence with it.

I grip it with trembling hands, my digits growing slick with sweat. The hearty blade of the axe comes down, and destroys the wood to allow us parted vision of inside. With a handful more thrusts and hacks, I have a suitable entrance available for use.

"Gentlemen, ladies; I grant you entrance."

I give a sly smile, a long, extended gesture of the hand. We step inside, allowing the dust to erupt and the darkness to cloak all who tread.

...

The catacombs of the dreaded Opera Ghost a horrid place to travel. It was tricky to find, and more than once we had almost fell through traps the demon had set- one being that damned water pit.

I attempt to banish other thoughts from my mind, and focus on Christine. A vision of her; a flash of her smile, a glimpse of soft brown hair floating gently down the curve of her back.

Yet every time her whole surfaces, the devil does as well.

The thought of his hands upon her fragile body, forever staining the pureness of her flesh, or the vision of his mouth crushed to her cowering form sends my teeth to grind. How could she ever have chosen such a wicked creature? Surely, Christine was being the selfless person she has always been. It was for me. What other emotion would convey her to do such a thing?

I pause as a mouse or two scurries along the passageway, squeaking their bleak indifference. A few anticipating gasps are let go from the females of the group, and the caught breath is let go as the squealing is brought down to a minimum level. "Come now, do not be frightened. There is nothing to fear. After all, this is still the Opera House." Meg pipes up, bringing a band of light to the situation. Clearly, she takes note upon the discomfort of the group as well. We continue on, determined to finish our work.

...

(Erik's POV)

The time wares on, most of it spent directly looking into one another.

"Erik.."

Christine's eyelids flutter, her lashes fanning her delicate cheekbones. Her breath catches in her throat as my hands connect to her hips.

I wrap my arms about her back, and my fingers press into her flesh. She gives a sigh as I draw her closer, occupying the space between us with our linking warmth.

I slip two fingers underneath her chin, and slowly gain enough height for our eyes to meld and exchange fond glimpses.

Our mouths connect, and we soon acquire more to an extended length.

Yet the yearned-for moment is soon shattered as a sound infests my ears. One that sends my rage to a fresh level. And one that sends Christine's skin to prickle and eyes to widen.

On an unspoken cue, Christine and I prance a foot back from each-other.

"Here we are! Oh, I hope we haven't interrupted anything." As Raoul steps through the opened gate, my fists clench.

A ragged group begins to circle, giving off waves of slight intimidation of the weary-legged bunch. The mist circles about their trembling limbs, and my pride mounts the saddle of tension, seeming to bear down on the formerly fleeting emotion.

"Ah! Monsieur! Here to claim your less-than-deserved "prize", I see?" I laugh bitterly, and descend the steps.

The boy sways, as if going to reel, yet balances himself. He staggers over, has to crane his neck just to get one look at my abhorrent face.

"I am here to receive what is mine, and what always has been."

"Is that true? Well, I'd love to see your attempt."

"I'd be delighted.." As he speaks, multiple from the group unravel from their flanks, and step behind. I recognize none but a few, most of which I have only glanced in the past.

There are too many.

Never before in my life have I made physical contact with so many people, aside from the regular beatings that were rapidly delivered at the gypsy's circus.

The amount is increasingly overwhelming.

As they drag me back out of the shallows to shore, I hear Christine shout my name. I am unable to verbally answer as she is pulled out of my sight.

Christine..!

Erik! Would you do something?

I cannot.

Why? Surely you have been in this situation before-?

Oh, Christine..

Erik! Please, listen to me-!

Her worrying voice fades from my mind as am I interrupted. I cease our telepathic conversation.

"Monsieur, surely you recall our situation from before this. It seems the table has been reversed upon us, and it is you who shall soon be begging for mercy." The Vicomte rounds on me, eyes flashing his self-correct justice.

Rope bites into my hands, and weigh me down with yet another element from the fop's achievement. A young man with auburn hair stands beside me, face forward and grim face set. He glances down, only to be redirected yet again as an order is barked.

"Well, I'm not one for talk. Let's get to our established business, shall we?" Raoul pulls out a pistol, and it is aimed towards my skull. "I've one bullet left, and if any of you should make me miss, I'll kill you."

"C-come now, Vicomte! Must we behave this way? I say we settle down for a steaming c-cup of tea and talk things over-" The same man positioned next to me stutters. His fear is revealed with my own as his discouraged words come out.

"No, Sam. It is time for justice.." The fop replies.

I am almost blown over as shock rattles my senses. A flash of brown hair, a water-stained dress, and she's there. Knocking her fiancé down with the violence of ten men.

Christine.

Yet as he is thrown to the chilling floor, the weapon is fired, and the bullet leaves.

...

(Meg's POV)

"Sam!" The scream exits my body as he falls, the bullet already lodged into his chest.

I push past all who stand in my way, and with a renewed speed, trample over to him.

I whisper low in my throat. And as if trying to wake a sleeping child with a gentle caress, "Sam..?"

"Meg." He coughs, yet it is weak and uncontrolled; I wince

"Ssh, It's going to be fine..I swear it."

Sam gives a light laugh, "Even I know that is false. You should as well. Do not be a fool, Meg."

By now, I had expected him to be dead.

Yet he is not. "There is still hope..Please..."

Sam shakes his head softly and interrupts, placing his hand to my cheek, "I love you, Meg Giry."

I am about to reply, but he is already gone.

I rise, and swallow, thinking only this:

And I love you..

...

(Christine's POV)

Raoul flips me over, noticing the sap in my strength. His advantage plunges it even lower. "Ignorant woman! What were you thinking?" He forces me to my feet, shoving me away. He motions to the remaining members to grab hold and seize Erik.

"Erik!" I cry.

"Christine..!"

"Oh, do be quiet." Raoul hisses. He reaches for the gun, showing his visible rage as he slams it down.

"Raoul-" I whisper.

"Come, Christine." He grips my wrist, and begins to haul me away, my reluctance forcing him into a state of annoyance.

"Erik!"

"Hush, Christine, you mustn't worry about him any longer." Raoul assures bitterly.

"What are you going to do with him?" I demand.

"He's going to be taken away."

"W..where?"

Raoul stops, turns around and grins. "Where he belongs, of course."

A/N-

Eugh! I HATE how this turned out. Tell me if you guys are disappointed by this, I'd really like to know! And trust me, things WILL be explained in the sequel- I won't have that up till later. I still need to do plot-thinking.

Anyways, thank you for reading, and I look forward to seeing you all in my next book, "Broken and Beyond"! :)