A/N: Well, faithful readers, we have reached the end at last. This is it. I am very honored that you have devoted several hours of your life to my humble story over the course of the past two months. I have enjoyed your comments and praise immensely, and I hope to be back on this site as a writer next summer when school gets out and I have free time again. However, I plan to be on as a reader every time I get the chance. I know a couple of you had requested that I read and review your fics. If you would email me at the address listed in my profile with the name of them, I will be happy to comply. Just give me a little time to get to them. And BTW, two of my most loyal reviewers and my two new best friends plan on posting their own fics shortly – phantomann and JemaModa. I have gotten a sneak peak at them both and I can tell you that they will be well worth the read.

If you have any questions about this final installment, feel free to email me. Or email me anyway if you want to chat. Thanks again for all the love. Erik plushies and cookies to you all! Enjoy!

Ch. 28 – Fate's Final Triumph

"Christine."

Christine stirred slightly. She could hear a frightened voice calling her name. The sound seemed distant and it echoed strangely inside her darkened consciousness.

"Christine, please, you must wake up. The police will be here soon. You must not be here when they arrive. Please..."

In the back of her mind Christine comprehended the words and recognized the fearful voice as Marguerite's, but a deeper instinct of self preservation warned her to stay in the comforting arms of the darkness, persuading her that the cold light of reality would be too cruel to bear. She remained motionless on the damp stone of the floor.

She heard another voice, a male one this time, and vaguely familiar. She drifted in and out of consciousness and caught only brief fragments of their anxious conversation.

"We need a doctor, Marguerite, and an undertaker. These bodies need to be removed and given a proper burial. You must speak with the police, of course. I don't understand what we just witnessed, but it was certainly tragic..."

The man's words echoed in Christine's mind.

'These bodies'...

They were all dead then. All dead...

All dead...

Erik...

The next thing she knew, she felt herself lifted into strong arms and carried over what seemed like a great distance. Many minutes passed, but still she did not speak, nor open her eyes. She stubbornly refused to awaken to a world where Erik no longer existed. She would choose instead to remain in the darkness until it claimed her for eternity.

She was dimly aware of being laid gently on a soft surface which she assumed to be the bed of her dressing room. She heard the door opening and closing several times and hushed voices around her. They seemed like a distant hum to her ears, and she paid them no mind.

In the corner of the room, however, an intense discussion was taking place.

"We have to get her out of the opera house before the police arrive. They will want to question her and she is in no condition. We need to get her out of the city and back to Florence." Marguerite's voice was distressed and pleading.

"Marguerite, my love, you know I would do anything for you, but this matter is best left to the proper authorities. The vicomte was a nobleman. His death will hardly go unnoticed. And the other man, the one with the deformity - from what you have told me, the man was a murderer. Let the police sort out this mess. Christine had no part in this madness. They will certainly not imprison her." Giovanni Renault ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair, pacing anxiously.

When Marguerite had asked him to come with her to follow the vicomte, he had agreed mainly to ensure Marguerite's safety. Now she was asking him to help her hide bodies, conceal evidence, and aid in the flight of La Scala's new prima donna from the police. Everything was spiraling out of his control. Not only could he lose his position of lead tenor at the world's most famous opera house over this, but there was also the possibility of more serious consequences such as prison for him, or even worse, for Marguerite.

Still, as he looked at her beseeching blue eyes, he knew he could deny her nothing. He had loved her from the first day he had set eyes on her two years ago. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever plan she had in mind.

"Alright, darling. As always, I am your servant. What would you ask of me?" He took her tiny hands in his and searched her face.

Marguerite smiled and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Giovanni. Someday I will tell you the rest of this tale and then you will understand."

She stepped back, an air of urgency in her manner. "I will get her ready. You go and fetch a carriage. Bring it around to the alley door, the one at the exit of the tunnel where I always used to meet you after hours. We have to find a way to get her and the other two men back to Florence." She marched across the room and threw open Christine's armoire, hastily retrieving anything the vicomte had not bothered to pack earlier, speaking over her shoulder as she moved about.

Giovanni stared at her. "But the one man is dead, and the other...well, he is not likely to live. The opera physician is seeing him now, but he said himself that the man's chances are slim. The ride alone might kill him. He has lost so much blood... "

Marguerite stopped her packing to meet his eyes. "Giovanni, I believe that man will deny death itself to be in Christine's arms again. Just help me to get them back to Florence, to give them a chance at happiness that they have never had. The man has killed before, whatever his reasons. The police will assume he is responsible for the vicomte's death and surely kill him, if he doesn't die of his wounds first. We know he was innocent of the vicomte's murder and he only killed the other man to protect Christine. With any luck, after the three of them are gone, we can make it look like the vicomte and the other man killed each other and the police will never be any wiser."

Giovanni stood considering her words for a moment, as Marguerite continued with her packing. He looked over at Christine's pale, tiny form on the bed. The woman was a remarkable singer and a stunning beauty, but always there had been a trace of sadness in her eyes. Perhaps Marguerite was right. And who knew? If they did their part for love, perhaps their own dreams for a happy future together one day might come true as well.

"I will do as you ask, but we must not delay. The rest of the vicomte's men might find the tunnel at any moment and then all is lost." He turned on his heel and left with haste.

Marguerite placed the last of Christine's remaining possessions into a small bag. The vicomte had not left much at all. She closed it and set it aside at last, walking over to sit down on the bed.

She placed a hand to Christine's cheek, but she did not move. The woman had to awaken, for she would need to see to the injured man over the long journey.

"Christine, I am so very sorry, my dear, but you must wake up," Marguerite whispered gently. "I know this has been a very difficult day for you, but you really must awaken now. Your Erik needs you."

At the mention of Erik's name, Christine stirred.

Erik needs me.

The thought echoed in her mind, propelling her harshly back to consciousness.

"Erik?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Marguerite smiled, gently patting the tiny woman's hand. "Yes, Christine, Erik is alive," she said softly.

Christine opened her eyes. "Where is he? Can I see him?" she whispered. She began to sit up, but Marguerite's restraining hand and a sharp pain in her abdomen forced her to lie back down.

Marguerite's expression sobered. She wondered how her friend would take the remainder of the news. "Christine, you must listen very carefully. There isn't much time..." She hesitated.

Christine's eyes grew wide and frightened. "You said he was alive. He is alive isn't he?" This time, Marguerite could not prevent her from sitting up.

Marguerite met her eyes and continued stroking her hand. "Yes, Christine, he is alive. But he is injured, very badly. He would have been dead, if it wasn't for the man who jumped in front of him at the last second. The bullet hit that man first, but it traveled cleanly through his chest and hit Erik in the side as he was knocked out of the way."

Christine thought for a moment. She remembered the sound of the shot, then something dark passing in front of Erik, just before he fell to his knees in front of her. But who could it have been? Who besides herself would know of the situation and care enough about Erik to...

Nadir.

Christine turned and clutched Marguerite's arms, staring into her face. "The man, Marguerite. The man who saved Erik's life, he was foreign? Dark skin and eyes, markings on his face?"

Marguerite was surprised. "You know him then?"

Christine's hand flew to her mouth in horror. Tears filled her eyes. "He was Erik's best friend, his only friend, aside from me. He was a good man." She wondered how Erik would take the news. Or perhaps he already knew?

"Marguerite, where is Erik? Please, I have to see him." There was desperation in her voice now.

Marguerite looked away. "Christine, I don't know how to tell you this, but the doctor doesn't expect he will live. He has lost a lot of blood, and he hasn't regained consciousness."

Christine's already pale face whitened considerably. She dropped her head into her hands, sobbing weakly.

So much sorrow, so much disappointment. Always our happiness seems destined to be shattered, she thought in despair.

Marguerite felt great sympathy for her friend, but there wasn't time now to mourn the man before he was even in his grave. She touched Christine's arm.

"Christine, the police will be here soon. They will take Erik away, thinking he killed the vicomte."

Christine looked up. "Raoul is dead as well?"

Marguerite nodded. "Just as the vicomte fired at Erik, the foreign man fired back at him. That was the second shot you heard. He was dead instantly. Giovanni and I saw the whole thing happen, just as we entered the room."

She wondered how much more Christine could endure in this fragile state, but it seemed important for her to know all that had happened so that she could be prepared for the potential dangers of the journey home.

"I am sorry, Christine. I know you were married to the vicomte for a time. You must have cared for him..." Marguerite lowered her gaze uncomfortably.

Christine's head snapped up, her eyes suddenly full of fire and hatred. "Raoul was no longer the man I once thought him to be. I am not sure he ever was. After all that he has done to Erik and to me, I feel only relief at his death. In the end, it was he who was revealed to be the monster. If only I had seen it sooner..." She turned her gaze away, staring at her hands.

Marguerite was momentarily shocked by her harsh words, but then she heard voices outside the door and remembered suddenly the urgency of their situation.

"Christine, you must leave here right now. I have sent Signor Renault to help Erik to the carriage and he is bringing the body of the other man as well. When the police come, he and I will try to lead them to the conclusion that the vicomte and the other man were arguing. Jacques fired at him, the two men struggled. The vicomte strangled him out of self defense, but in the scuffle, the gun went off and after Jacques was dead the vicomte succumbed to his injuries as well."

Christine blinked at her in surprise. Was it really possible that this young woman who had known her only a short time would go to such lengths to help her? "Thank you, Marguerite for everything. I am sorry for the position I have put you and Signor Renault in with mess." She covered the girl's hand with her own.

Marguerite smiled sadly. "I am glad to be able to help you, Christine. I wish you a much happier future than the past you have known, though I fear it holds only more suffering for you." Her expression was grave. "You must see that he loses no more blood, and that infection does not set in. The trip may very well be too much for him..." her voice trailed off, for Christine was no longer listening.

She had lifted herself off the bed and was moving towards the door, when she paused. A look of pain crossed her face, and she doubled over slightly.

Marguerite was instantly concerned. "Christine, are you all right? Perhaps I should fetch the doctor for you."

Christine stood with determination, tears shining in her eyes.

"No, no. There is no time. Take me to Erik. Please. I need to be with him. If these are our last moments, so be it. I cannot change that, but I can spend every second that we have left by his side."

Marguerite could sense her desperation and without another word, she accompanied Christine out the door, looking both ways down the hall first to ensure that no one would see them. They ducked quickly behind another door in the darkened hallway, and then flew down three flights of rickety stairs until Christine recognized the tunnel she had fled down less than two hours prior. She shivered at the thought of the events that had taken place only a few more feet below as she followed Marguerite around the corner she had missed the first time and up three more flights of stairs to the alley door.

The carriage was ready and waiting. Christine quickly hugged and thanked Marguerite and murmured her thanks to Signor Renault as he helped her inside and motioned to the driver.

As the carriage raced away into the newly fallen night, Marguerite and Giovanni stood staring after it, both of them wondering silently what would become of the two tragic lovers it bore away.

Christine knelt all in black upon the green grass of a pristine, tiny garden along the southern edge of Porto Dell' Angelo's vast grounds, which were washed once again in the soft amber glow of those last moments just before the setting of the sun. It was early summer: the time when all of the flowers were in full bloom and the warm air carried the scent of their fragrant heavy blossoms, along with the faint sound of church bells from the grand city below.

Though it was a lovely evening, Christine felt the familiar tug of sorrow and loss at her heart as she laid a bouquet first on one grave, and then on the other. She bent her head in silent prayer and mourning.

It had been a little over ten years since the fateful confrontation at La Scala and her desperate flight from Milan. And nearly ten years since all the tragedy and bittersweet healing that had followed. Every year, on this same day, she dressed in black and came to pay her respects to the two dear souls that rested here. It had become a tradition, a way to remember the sadness of the past and celebrate her hopes for the future.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she read the inscriptions on the first of the two simple, but elegantly chiseled stone markers.

Nadir Khan

Loyal and Devoted Friend

A great man in both word and deed.

When she remembered the man's sacrifice, even to this day, she felt an overwhelming sense of respect and gratitude. Truly, he had been a remarkable man, though she had known him only a short time.

She drew in a deep breath before turning to the second stone. She knew the words on this one by heart and she whispered them as her fingers lovingly traced the letters carved deep into the cool granite.

Erik de Renoir

Beloved Angel

Though your time on earth was short,

You have a place in our hearts for all eternity

She lowered her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

After a few moments, a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"I am late, forgive me darling."

Christine raised her shining eyes to her husband's concerned face. "No, it is I who should ask for forgiveness. I did not wait for you. I admit I wanted just a moment alone here before you arrived." She stood and wrapped her arms around his waist, gazing up at him with undisguised adoration. "What kept you, anyway?"

Erik sighed. "Nicholas locked the cat in the cellar again, Ariana spilled orange juice all over the kitchen floor, and I won't even tell you what Marc has done, but I do hope you weren't too terribly attached to that crystal vase in the living room. But never fear, thanks to me, all is well now." He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

Christine looked up at him, her eyes taking in the familiar masked face of the man she loved beyond all reason. How far he had come since his days below the Opera Populaire. How far they both had come. She thanked God every day that she had at last found the courage to look beyond his mask, for underneath all Erik's past anger and violence lay the most wonderful unique man, capable of greatest love and deepest devotion. He was the ideal father to their three children who adored him. And as both a husband and a lover Christine felt she could never ask for any more. Erik completed and fulfilled her in ways she had never thought possible.

Her gentle brown eyes, sought his and she whispered sincerely, "Erik, I am so very thankful that God spared you that day." She leaned her forehead against his chest, and he leaned his chin down to rest in her curls.

"So am I, my love," he said quietly. "I have many things to be thankful for now, most of all you and the children."

His gaze fell on the gravestone of his son, their first child. It was small wonder that he had been born weak and sickly, two full months ahead of schedule. After the stress of the early months of Christine's pregnancy, it was a miracle that Christine had managed to carry the child as long as she had. The boy had died only days after his birth and their sorrow at his passing continued even unto this day.

He felt tears in his own eyes as he took her hand and they walked together back toward the villa. When they came within view of the front door, Ariana toddled out the front door and across the grass toward them, her chestnut curls bouncing over her shoulders. She was followed closely by her two older brothers. Nicholas was the eldest of the three and at the age of eight he had his father's striking gray-blue eyes and was already showing signs of his height and lean, agile build as well. Marc and Ariana, however, favored their mother, both with dark curls and big brown eyes.

Erik reached down and scooped his daughter easily into his arms, planting a gentle kiss on her chubby cheek. The family gathered on the portico, just as the sun was setting over the city. A second bench had long ago been added to accommodate their growing family. Erik and Christine settled onto the older one with Ariana snuggled contentedly in Erik's lap, while the boys flopped onto the other. It had become a tradition for the family to come together here to watch the sun sink below the horizon and to await the soft fall of the gentle twilight over the city.

They watched in peaceful silence as the sun sank lazily below the line of the horizon and its last rays painted the sky with muted stripes of magenta, lavender, and cornflower. After a time, Christine ushered her two yawning sons into the house and up the stairs to bed.

While he awaited her return, Erik sat holding his sleeping daughter tightly in his arms and breathing in the peace and contentment of his new life. He had never imagined he might be so fortunate one day. He lifted his eyes to the heavens and said a silent prayer of thanks.

After a few minutes, Christine returned and sat down beside him once again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously.

Erik smiled, his adoring eyes coming to rest on the face of the woman who shared his life and his dreams.

"I was just thinking how very fortunate we are to have each other and three beautiful, healthy children," he said softly. "We have truly been blessed."

Christine's eyes sparkled mischievously and she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear.

"And about eight months from now we shall be blessed again."

Erik drew back so that he could see her face. Her eyes were shining and her smile had a special radiance about it that he has seen only a few times before.

When his initial surprise subsided, Erik laughed merrily. "We shall have to add another bench."

Christine reached up and brought his smiling lips to hers for a tender kiss. She then stood up and reached out her hand.

"Come to bed with me, Erik."

Erik immediately raised an eyebrow and gave her a wicked grin. "If you keep propositioning me like that, milady, we shall have to add more than one bench."

Christine laughed as he took her hand. Erik adjusted Ariana's sleeping form in his other arm carefully so as not to awaken her. He and Christine walked hand in hand through the door of the villa, closing it gently behind them.

Somewhere in the peaceful night, Fate was smiling at last.