Dear readers,

For those of you who have signed in to review, I was able to directly message you, so you knew this was coming. For those of you who reviewed as guests, thank you very much for taking the time to do so, and I am sorry that this is the last chapter of this story. It's less of a typical chapter, and more of a time-lapse/montage epilogue.

The character arcs were mostly cinched up, and there were no more real conflicts that I could use to make the story continue…except one. And it's written into this final page.

I don't anticipate I'll be writing any more POTO-based fanfics. But, if I eventually do, the best way to be in the know is to favorite (and/or follow) me as an author.

Thank you for all the support! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Only took me almost seven years to complete! Haha!

I remain, readers, your obedient servant,

Jenn

And now, for the finale of "Music in the Dark"…

Romance was not exactly the Phantom's forte, having little idea how to successfully woo a woman with his limited graces. He was in love long before he saw any trace of it in her. It was a slow, agonizingly slow, process that developed alongside the partnership they developed. It grew from a mutual respect and admiration. And it grew from their strengthening trust in one another.

When Aveline had returned from her month-long stay in Cadiz, Erik had once again breathed a sigh of relief that his pupil, his partner, had kept her word. The next time she had requested to leave his domain, he had reluctantly agreed, working out all of the details for her holiday in Toulouse. The third time she had gone, he let her make the majority of her own plans, offering help only when asked.

He, however, did not enjoy his trips to the surface. Unsurprisingly, he had not offered to take her up, again. And she did not press him. After her achieving some artistic success, she doubted she would rarely, if ever, see his underground dwelling again. Perhaps she could have her own home in Paris, like Francine, where Erik could meet with her in private and where she could occasionally host her parents.

And, of Madam Durand… Aveline maintained her distance, not wishing to cross paths with the bitter woman, again. Francine played her part, passing correspondence back and forth between her and her parents through Erik's rapt attention. He no longer read Aveline's letters, choosing to gift the rose stamp and gold wax to her.

As the months passed by, Aveline grew uneasy about what to do with Erik. They had not discussed what role he was going to play in her rise to fame. Would he abandon credit for the compositions they had written together? How could Aveline introduce Octave Genereux into her world? What would happen if her parents found out about her connection to the infamous Opera Ghost?

Erik, as expected, had carefully-laid plans for every one of Aveline's questions.

He would be an anonymous partner on any musical compositions that he and Aveline wrote together. It would be up to her to convince her parents that the silent contributor was, in fact, her instructor, Madam Durand. He did not need the additional income.

Octave Genereux would be as reclusive as ever, with he and Aveline only meeting on two very brief occasions, through Francine's connection with the mysterious composer. He would never meet her parents, for obvious reasons. And the withdrawn reputation that Genereux had cultivated would serve that end.

The last question was the most troublesome. If her parents somehow found out… Neither of them could think of a way to quell such a monumental dilemma. Thankfully, it was hypothetical. They could only hope that it would remain that way.

Aveline and Erik continued to write, finishing two more original works. By herself, Aveline composed four short movements, but they were not finished to her liking. She looked at them individually, four pieces to a puzzle that she had yet to work out. Erik gave her the time to do so, offering no critique. When she finally brought the confounding question to him, he had shown her how best to string one movement to the next, brilliantly combining the different elementals of music into one moving piece.

She had yet to finish the third movement of her first original composition.

How will it end? Aveline remembered Madam Durand asking her. If it ends how I imagine it will, I may want a copy. The feelings it stirs are more than a little familiar…

Aveline had yet to understand the cryptic words of the disillusioned artist.

It was two years after her first step into the ruins of the opera house, two years after she had scoured the remains of the of the destroyed building for black roses… after meeting the infamous Phantom of the Opera, who actually turned out to be her favorite composer. And now, it was her turn to perform onstage.

Madam Francine Durand had officially booked the venue, although, the funding actually came from an anonymous source. It was a conservatively-sized concert hall, seating less than two hundred people. Christine and Raoul had made the trip up from Toulouse, eager to support their only child. Madam Durand was there in spirit, but claimed to have fallen ill. Too sick to attend, she had left Aveline in the care of her parents.

Christine finally relented, her desire to see her precious daughter trumping her reluctance to stay in Paris, and she and Raoul now had a favorite place to stay in the City of Light. When they were visiting, Aveline stayed with them. It was usually no more than a week at a time, a couple of times a year.

Erik was in attendance for her debut, too, Aveline knew. But he secluded himself to the back corner of the room, entering after the concert began and leaving before it ended.

Aveline played a total of eight musical numbers. Two were from the classical era, three were works by Octave Genereux, another two were collaboration pieces between herself and an anonymous contributor, and the final one was her original work.

The concert went splendidly, and, after the standing ovation, her parents were practically bombarded by well-wishers who were determined to have their praises passed on to the Vicomte's beautiful and talented daughter. A few of the bolder men asked if she was being courted. Raoul, the loving and protective father that he was, did not bother to give any of the would-be suitors the information they asked for.

Aveline was elated, and she made excuses to take a carriage to check in on Madam Durand and tell her of the night's event. She promised her parents that she would return in the morning. The carriage dropped her off outside the Opera Populaire, and she had taken the secretive route inside.

Erik had embraced her, after she made her way back into the opera house, and she had held him in response. That was it. That was the moment. When her heart began to consciously seek his affection…

It was inevitable, but neither of them were prepared for the announcement that the Opera Populaire would finally be rebuilt to its original glory. It was also to be given a new name: the Palais Garnier.

Aveline asked Erik what they were to do, now that the opera house would be filled with workers. He assured her that they would be safe underground, being too far away from everything being built on top of them. There were times that they heard voices on the other side of the vast lake, but no one was prepared to build a boat in order to traverse the waterways.

Erik had to be more aware of the time of day, frequently checking his pocket watch when needing to go up to the surface. He could only leave at night, now, when the workers had been released. Necessity dictated that this arrangement would not do, and that new accommodations needed to be made.

Aveline was visiting Toulouse, while Erik met with Francine.

In an unusually sympathetic move, the madam had offered them her home. The changing hands of the opera house had softened her; she was unable to hold onto her bitterness, in the face of such strong sentimentality. She had another small estate in Reims, where she would retire until the whole business of the remodel was complete. She left instructions with her loyal housekeeper, who was already privy to most of the odd dealings that the rich woman had with the masked man over the years.

When Aveline returned at night, as arranged, Erik was in the street. He instructed her to remain in her seat, gave the driver instructions to go to Madam Durand's address, then sat himself beside her.

"Madam Durand's home? Why?"

"I cannot advance your career further, if I have to worry about the onslaught of men that stand between us and the rest of Europe."

"But she won't want me there! She was so uncivil, last time…"

"Francine will not be there. It will just be you and me," he promised. "As well as her housekeeper and cook, who will now function as our staff." He smiled at her, and Aveline smiled back. He had not worn the full mask since before the masquerade. "It will be a nice change of pace for us, won't it? Until we are able to return."

Aveline didn't say anything to that, preferring not to get his hopes up. She did not believe she would ever stay another night in that dark lair. Visiting was palatable, but there would be enough time for her to purchase her own estate in Paris before the Palais Garnier opened.

More years passed, and the venues grew in size. Sometimes both Raoul and Christine traveled to wherever Aveline performed. And, of course, she still stayed wherever one or both of her parents were. She toured every large city in France, always with her mentor. He made it a habit to schedule their arrivals and departures as late as possible, in order to conceal his presence.

It wasn't long before Christine was confronting her daughter about the idea of marriage. Her father was decidedly less interested in marrying his daughter off, but he did not discourage his wife's efforts. Aveline was gentle but firm in her refusals of all prospects. She was devoted to her music…

…and to her true mentor.

Being in Madam Durand's home in Paris, in an actual above-ground estate, Aveline was able to properly flourish. She had gardens to walk through, shops to visit, and a beautiful sky to daydream under. Her brightened mood improved her perception of everything and everyone around her, especially Erik. He was delighted on her behalf, but he mostly missed the privacy and familiarity of his underground home.

The Paris opera house was being restored at a miraculously rapid rate, although the politicians taking credit for its restoration admitted that the original structure already had excellent, strong bones from which to build upon.

Six years after construction began, and a total of eight years after the Phantom and Aveline's first meeting, the Palais Garnier opened in resplendent fashion. As the daughter of both the celebrated prima donna and the major patron of the former theater, as well as an esteemed musician in her own right, Aveline de Chagny was invited to perform for what would be her largest audience yet. She would be one of multiple acts scheduled for the gala event; she couldn't help but wonder if her mother had also been asked to perform. Not that she would ever agree to do so.

Aveline had a dress designed specifically for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Working with a trusted seamstress, she picked a luxurious turquoise silk to make the shift of the dress. Over the slinky material, there would be tiered layers of sheer black mesh netting, with intricate silver embroidery and clear crystals. Thankful that no one wore bustled dresses any longer, she chose a pattern that paid homage to the Japanese kimono-style dresses that were quite in fashion, at the moment. The bustline was straight and conservative, but her shoulders were mostly bare, with only capped sleeves in the mesh netting to help hold her dress up. She would also be wearing long black gloves whenever she wasn't playing.

The night of the gala, Aveline was to perform third, after an aria by a current up and coming soprano. Christine and Raoul secured seats in the front center of the orchestra section.

Aveline watched her parents from offstage in one of the wings. She had only been granted enough time to perform three songs. She had chosen one by Octave Genereux, one new piece by herself and her anonymous composing partner, and the final would be one of her original works. She hoped it would be well-received.

A few rows behind her parents sat Madam Francine Durand. Aveline's eyes widened in shock, to see her former idol in attendance. Unless she was mistaken, this would be the madam's first time witnessing Aveline play in a professional setting.

As the soprano finished her final strains, Aveline scanned for one more face: Erik's. She saw the mask, the only light-colored thing he wore, eerily floating in the very back of one of the balcony boxes overseeing stage left. It looked odd, with the light out and no one sitting against the rail. Most of the patrons in the full theater probably assumed that whomever had purchased the seats had not shown up.

Of course, Aveline remembered. Box Five.

The soprano bowed graciously to the generous applause she received, soaking in the attention. Aveline was instructed to enter on stage right, as the opera singer exited on the opposite side. The young pianist clenched her teeth in annoyance, as the diva waited until the praise died down to a polite rate before finally condescending to leave.

Aveline confidently walked to the center of the stage. She looked up, again, to Box Five, where she could see that the Phantom had moved minimally closer. She moved her attention to her parents, who were proudly beaming at their daughter. Madam Durand looked positively jealous, and something else…worried?

The strangest feeling sent a chill up Aveline's spine. Like déjà vu. But she couldn't fathom why.

The piano was wheeled downstage by several stagehands, while Aveline removed her gloves and laid them along the music rack. She gracefully sat at the provided seat, adjusting it to be perfectly positioned for her to use the keyboard.

The first song was, yet again, her favorite by Genereux. Her favorite work by Erik. The song she had chosen to play for him on the first night she had met the Phantom of the Opera. It had become a signature piece for her to play at every concert, as it had once been for Francine. Although she had not written or rewritten one bar, one note, she still felt a strong sense of ownership over the music that had inspired such strong passion inside of her. The applause she received was polite, and the audience cut themselves off quickly, eager to hear more.

The second piece was a never-before played composition that she had written with Erik for this very night. It was lighter, quieter, than the bursting intensity of the first. It had an air of romance to it, but done very subtly. The notes were calming but also joyful. It received more praise than the first, with various members of the audience shouting out compliments. Aveline waited patiently for the cheers to subside, while staring at Madam Durand. She was looking down at her program, her eyes seemingly fixated on one line.

"I will look forward to hearing the final movement. If it ends how I imagine it will, I may want a copy. The feelings it stirs are more than a little familiar."

The last musical composition was Aveline's sole creation. It was the first piece Aveline had dared to compose. The one that took the longest for her to complete. Eight years.

The first movement: fear. Feeling trepidation, as she entered the Phantom's world for the first time. Worried that she would never see the light of day, but be trapped in his will forever.

The second movement: delight. Realizing that she had more potential within her than she ever would have known. Reconciling that her prison did not have to be her end.

The final movement: peace. The opposite of fear. This took the first movement and recast the chords in a major key, but with more seriousness and tranquility than the second. It was Aveline's contentedness with her new life with Erik. The man who once tried to control her, now her source of comfort and inspiration.

When she finished, there was silence. Aveline took a breath and looked toward the audience. She saw scattered tears on the men and women, including her parents. Madam Durand, too, had a somber expression, but she did not meet Aveline's eyes.

Aveline stood, carefully moving her seat backward to walk around it. The applause that followed was not thunderous; it was steady. Strong. And everyone, in solidarity with her, rose to their feet. Many of them, she could see, had their mouths open in awe or shook their heads in amazement.

She took her gloves from their perch, bowed lightly to thank the crowd for their adoration, and crossed the stage. She looked up to Box Five and saw the white mask nod in acknowledgment. She smiled back and placed a hand over her heart, as she walked offstage. Behind her, the standing ovation was still going strong, even though the next act, a troupe of actors, waited to begin their own program.

She waited in the dressing room that she had been given, taking deep breaths, trying to relive everything she had felt while on that grand stage. When she heard a knock on her door, she knew who it was before she called out for the visitor to come in.

But it was Christine who walked in, looking both proud and a bit flustered. Aveline was surprised to see her mother, as they had agreed to meet in the lobby at the end of the gala. Surely, there had to be at least three more acts to perform, before the night would be over.

"You were so brilliant, ma fille précieuse! My wonderful, talented daughter!" her mother gushed. They embraced, and Aveline felt the warmth of love spread in her chest.

Her mother pulled away, cupping her daughter's cheek in her delicate hand, and stared into Aveline's eyes with a tentative expression. She let go, eventually, and went to sit down on a chair nearby, while Aveline took the cue to sit at the chair at the vanity, facing her mother.

"How long have you known him?"

"Known whom?" Aveline asked innocently.

"The Phantom of the Opera. The Opera Ghost."

"What are you talking-"

"Don't, Aveline," her mother sighed. "Just…don't. I need the truth from you, right now, or I will involve your father in this immediately."

Aveline felt a chill throughout her body. She had the gloves on, which provided some cover, but there was still plenty of exposed skin that would show the raised bumps on her flesh to her increasingly suspicious mother.

"How did you find out?" she whispered. Christine's eyes narrowed in response.

"I lived here, Aveline. I was the one who experienced everything. I told your father about Box Five being the Phantom's favorite viewing spot, but he probably didn't notice the extra attention you gave to the mysteriously dark seats in the same area Box Five used to be." Christine clenched her gloved hands in her lap, and Aveline gave a limp smile at the nervous habit she had learned from her mother. "I noticed. How could I not? I used to look for him up there, too."

"He…" Aveline started, but hesitated, unsure of how much she should reveal. Her mother's lips were in a taut line, waiting for her to continue. "He came to Madam Durand's, on occasion. I asked her to introduce me to Octave Genereux, because I knew they had worked together for years. She was the only pianist he trusted to play his newest compositions. Apparently, they knew each other from your time at the Opera Populaire."

"O.G…." Christine whispered under her breath, staring past Aveline to the mirror behind her.

"Yes," Aveline confirmed. "He…he thought I was you, actually, when we first met."

Her mother's mood soured considerably, at this revelation.

"He asked me to sing for him," her daughter admitted. "It didn't go very well." Aveline blushed at the memory. So long ago, but still so fresh in her mind. "He was disappointed, until he heard me play one of his songs. The one I played tonight, as a matter of fact. He offered to supplement my teachings, helping me to unlock emotions from deep inside me to pour into my playing. He's an excellent tutor."

"When?" Christine interrupted her story, asking firmly.

"Eight…years…ago?"

Christine gasped, standing to her feet, her features showing the fury she felt as the result of her daughter's betrayal.

"How could you! Do you know what he did to me? To your father?"

"You told me NOTHING!" Aveline took a breath. She and her mother both needed to calm down, or someone would arrive to check on the commotion. "Erik told me everything. That's his name, by the way."

"I know," Christine flippantly said. Her volume was quieter, now, too, but the anger was still present in her voice. "He is using you. He only wants revenge upon me and your father."

"I think that used to be true, in the beginning," Aveline nodded. "And, later, I worried that he was only interested in using me like a puppet for his music. But then, things changed. We are…partners. The second song I played tonight, and all the others you've heard that were composed by myself and Madam Durand? Those collaborations were never with her, they were with Erik."

"You lied to me. And your father. You deliberately hid this from me. And had I known-"

"What, mother? What would you and father have done? Taken me back to Toulouse? I would have found a way back to him. Hunted down Erik? We would have fled together. Hasn't he been through enough? Does he never deserve to be happy? Don't I deserve to have happiness in my life of my own making?"

Christine's jaw dropped in disbelief. She knelt by her daughter's side, holding onto the vanity for balance.

"Aveline, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Oh, God. Give me strength. "I am happy with him, as he is with me."

Tears of outrage caught in her mother's eyes. "Do you…love him?"

"Yes," she whispered, looking deeply into her mother's tearful gaze. "I believe I do."

"Have you…seen him? Actually seen him?"

Aveline frowned bitterly, disappointed in her mother's response to such an important declaration.

"No, I have never seen him unmasked." She looked up in thought. "I don't think I ever shall. But I don't need to."

"You don't know-"

"Mother," Aveline pleaded, looking back to her mother. "I didn't fall in love with his mask, or with his hands, or with his stature." She took a deep breath and continued. "I fell in love with his passion, his inspiration, and his never-ending support. He saw beyond my lineage, past my mother's image. Your face," she added with a winsome smile. "He was patient with me, and I was patient with him. And, now, we are both content."

Her mother was dumbstruck, with one neat track of tears on either cheek. She was no longer crying, but she was obviously upset by this unexpected news.

"Please, can you be happy for me, if not for him? And, if my happiness includes him, can you please accept that?"

Christine stood slowly, a little shaky on her feet.

"I'm not sure I can," the weary mother replied. She returned to her chair and sat as though exhausted.

The two ladies sat in silence, until Aveline spoke up.

"Will you tell Father?"

Christine sent a sharp look to her daughter. "I should, even though this would both crush and infuriate him." She sighed, then, holding a hand to her forehead as if she had a headache. "If I did, he would not rest until the Phantom was either dead or behind bars. We thought he was already dead. Your father would not allow for even an ounce of uncertainty, if he knew the Phantom was back in our lives."

"Then you cannot tell him." Aveline's tone was firm, resolved. "It took you eight years to find out the truth. I am sorry that I lied to you, but I knew that you would never accept it. Erik and I have been so careful. And it sounds, to me, as if you only found out because of the very personal connection you used to have with him. Papa must never know. Please, Mama?"

Christine gave her a dubious look.

"I am glad you have Papa. He loves you dearly, and he protects and supports you in all you do. Erik is my partner, and I wish to stay with him."

Christine gave a slight nod. "This is not the last time we will speak on this, but, for now…" Her mother stood and walked toward the door. "Now that I know, tell him, tell Erik that I will be watching." She turned the doorknob in her hand and opened it. "Your father and I will see you in the lobby, soon." She stopped before exiting and let go of the door to address her daughter. "I love you, so very, very much. My beautiful daughter, my only child. I think you are making a mistake. But, if I can't change your mind, then I will wait for you to come home to me. Please don't let him control every aspect of your future. I couldn't bear to watch my daughter go down a path that I knew would destroy me."

Her mother didn't wait for an answer, choosing, instead, to exit the small room.

Aveline twisted in her seat to face the mirror. She rested her head on her gloved arms, taking even breaths and trying desperately not to cry. Her mother had left the room without closing the door, but, only seconds later, she heard the soft click of the lock in the background.

"You did very well."

She glanced up and saw the Phantom's reflection in the mirror behind her. She stayed seated.

"Mother knows."

He moved toward her, from the center of the dressing room to right behind her chair. He lightly rested both gloved hands on her shoulders.

"I heard…some of what was said," he admitted. "Would you actually run away with me, if your parents tried to part us?" He spoke playfully, teasing Aveline to cheer her mood.

Aveline gave a sad smile, but no spoken answer. She smoothly stood to face him. Her hands went to his shoulders, with one circling to rest behind his hooded neck. He smiled and closed the little distance that lay between them, placing his hands on her waist.

"I told you, years ago, that I felt whole, again," he said, softly. "I said it when I still saw you as your mother. But you've changed me, so that I no longer feel like an unworthy creature. You repaired my soul so that I could be complete for you. Completely yours. I didn't think that was possible."

She pulled him down and kissed him tenderly, in response.

La fin . The end