So this is it. This is where our story ends.
I'm very sad it's over, but happy to offer you the final chapter in this story.
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews...your support.
I hope to bring you more Phan fics in the future!
But for now, let's enjoy the closure we've all been waiting for...
Erik didn't expect death to feel so…
Warm.
He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the darkness.
"Erik?" A voice asked softly. "Erik, can you hear me?"
He turned to the sound, his eyes focusing on an angel.
She hovered above him, her face concerned.
Suddenly, recognition flared within Erik's mind.
"Christine?" He asked, his voice stronger than he expected. Christine smiled, sitting next to him on his silken black sheets. "Where are we?"
"We're home…that is…we're at your home," Christine answered, placing a cool hand to his forehead. Erik sat up slowly, wincing as a pain shot through his abdomen. Christine immediately guided him back down onto the lush pillows beneath his head. "Lay back," she instructed softly.
Erik pulled the sheets down to inspect his body. Several large, ugly bruises spotted his normally even skin tone. A large sheet of gauze was wrapped around his middle, no doubt covering the stitching that surely saved his life.
Christine brought a cool glass of water to his lips. He drank slowly, keeping his eyes on Christine.
She looked tired. She had obviously spent the past night at his side, waiting, praying that he would wake.
He reached out and ran his hand over a large bruise that marred her porcelain skin. "Are you alright?" He asked her. She nodded.
"Certainly more alright than you," she whispered, settling next to him once more. She looked down at him and breathed deeply. "I thought I had lost you again," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.
He pulled her down next to him, allowing her soft sobs to fall against his chest. He stroked her back lightly, whispering reassurances into her ear.
Christine pressed a light kiss on his chest, thankful that he was here, alive, breathing beneath her. She lifted her head to look at him.
"It's over, Erik," she whispered. "It's all over."
Erik smiled. "On the contrary, Christine. Things have just begun…"
He pulled her down, ignoring her protests that he was weak, that he needed to rest…
And kissed her deeply, assuring her of his continued virility.
It stole her breath away. "You must rest, Erik," she protested as she tried to wriggle away.
He smiled, pulling her down again. "There will be time to rest when I am dead, my love," he replied.
Christine laughed, snuggling deep into the bed…their bed…and sighed as he wrapped a protective arm around her.
And with their thoughts towards the future, they fell asleep as a canopy of stars twinkled down upon them the music of the night.
THREE YEARS LATER
Christine walked through the cemetery awkwardly, maneuvering herself through the freshly fallen snow.
Why did it ALWAYS have to snow on this day?
Suddenly she slipped.
A strong hand caught her elbow.
She looked over to her husband, whose masked face was carrying a smirk.
"What, exactly, are you smiling about?" Christine asked, turning to him, her enormous belly causing Erik to have to back up several steps.
"At your stubbornness," Erik replied, brushing a curl out of her eyes. "I had hoped that we could postpone this little trip for a few more weeks."
Christine continued to walk, more determined than before. "I told you that we needed to come here on this day…it's important to me Erik."
Erik nodded. "I know, darling."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, save Christine's breath which was just as heavy as the extra weight she carried within her womb.
When they finally reached the elaborate grave, Christine paused, placing a hand on her stomach and regulating her breathing. She looked over at Erik, who, for the past 8 months or so, had the same expression of love and concern plastered across the visible portion of his face.
"I'm fine," she said with a smile, answering his unasked question. She winced as the baby kicked fiercely. "Only your child would cause me so much trouble," she remarked.
Erik placed a large hand across the expanse of Christine's stomach and smiled.
As one, they turned to look down at the grave.
Christine leaned forward, placing a red rose on the ground in front of the tombstone.
"Did you love him, Christine?" Erik asked.
Christine looked up at him. "The word 'love' doesn't even come close to describing what I felt for him," she answered.
Erik wrapped his arms around her. "He loves you too, Christine."
Christine smiled, placing her cold lips to his. "I know," she murmured as she rested her head on his shoulder.
Snow began to fall again.
"Christine, we should return," Erik prompted, unwilling to let his wife and child freeze to death in the cemetery.
"Alright," Christine relented. "I just need one moment alone."
Erik cocked an eyebrow. "You do remember what happened the last time I left you alone for a moment…"
Christine rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that you'll be watching me from the shadows," she said.
Erik placed another kiss on her forehead. "Always," he whispered, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the cold over Christine's body.
As he walked away, Christine watched his cape flair, loving him more with each passing second.
She turned back to the grave, placing a hand on the tombstone. "So this is goodbye," she said. "Your demons have been exercised, you are whole…"
She wiped the snow away from the two letters that marked the tomb. "But I shall never forget the man you were, the man you have become, the man you were meant to be."
She turned to follow her husband, who was waiting for her down the path.
The snow continued to fall as the lovers left the cemetery for the last time.
In the years to follow, many would visit this tomb, some for the wonder, some for the thrill. If you visit now, the elaborate tomb still stands, the angels slightly worse for the wear, the marble dulled and chipping.
But the two simple letters upon the tombstone remain, a stark reminder of the choices we all make, the people we love, and the darkness that can comfort, consume, or destroy.
It is a shame, really. All the elaborate marble and stoic angels that guard the tomb are protecting an empty grave containing the past of a man whose name was has not been preserved for the ages…
But to those who know, to those who really know how the story ended, the Opera Ghost's tomb would always serve as a reminder to abandon the darkness, and let the song take flight.