Disclaimer: For the last time, I DON'T OWN PHANTOM.

Chapter 29: Wanderlust

With a satisfied expression, Erik folded up Raoul's letter and slipped it back inside the ivory envelope. A month had passed since the confrontation that had resulted in Flavio's death. The Phantom rumours were finally laid to rest. As far as the Parisian authorities were aware, the Phantom had died beneath the Opera Garnier. After witnessing her tutor's death, Christine Daae left for England, began a successful career in London, and married a well-known architect.

Erik hesitated for a moment before tossing the letter, envelope and all, into the fireplace, the only source of light in the unlit study. He pensively watched the hungry flames snake greedily around the paper, flaring with brilliant ferocity as it consumed, casting ghostly shadows to dance across Erik's mask. Finally, it settled back into a sated crackling. The letter, which once had contained information and words and meaning, was reduced to a pile of ashes.

The task completed, Erik turned back towards his desk. He looked down at the designs for the Duchess's summer home. The plans were all but finalized. For once, architecture failed to entrance him. He felt a strange stirring within him, a restlessness that was not foreign, but had been absent for a long time.

In the days when he was a young man, Erik would often be struck by such a restlessness. He would act on his instinct, leaving wherever he resided at the time to travel aimlessly. In recent years these bouts of wanderlust had lessened considerably. He had no doubt that his then newfound romantic interest in his pupil was a cause for this. He had also accounted it to his mellowing with old age. Since his marriage to Christine, he had not felt such a compulsion to travel.

But where to? Not back to France, not so soon. Although Raoul had promised that their secret was safe – and Erik did not see cause to doubt the boy, not when he seemed all too willing to forget his own role in the ploy – it would still be tempting fate to return to the country where he had been prosecuted less than a year ago.

Erik rose from his desk. With elegant, cat-like grace, he paced around it and exited through the door to his study. His long-legged strides brought him to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him with deliberate quietness. A small figure slumbered in the huge bed, oblivious to her husband's disappearance from her side. Erik soundlessly changed into his bedclothes and prepared for bed. Last of all, he removed his mask and placed it on his bedside table, feeling that unfamiliar rush of cold air against the tender skin of deformity. Kneeling down beside the bed, his heart softened as he beheld his dear wife. Her face was serene, with none of the agitation that had accompanied her this past month like a menacing phantom.

Erik quelled the desire to stroke her curls, or to press a kiss to her pristine cheek. Doing so would wake her, and he knew that she needed the peace that she seemed only to find in the shelter of sleep. With a final tender gaze, Erik rose from the carpeted floor and made his way, barefoot, to the bay windows. He drew open the dark curtains to gaze outside.

It had snowed in the night. He had woken just before midnight to the wind's lonesome howl and snow pelting down in fury. Now, several hours later, the downpour had eased to a lazy flutter of the most delicate snowflakes. The grounds were covered in a layer of fine powder, almost like icing on a cake.

It was a moonless night once again, and it reminded him of the night his life was changed.

Of course, he recognized with a sardonic smile, there had been many nights where his life was changed. But the one that came to mind was the only night where it changed for the better. The night Christine came back to him. He had scarcely been able to believe that she was in her right mind. Indeed, some part of him still wondered whether she was completely sane to love him and marry him. In retrospect, he didn't know how he could have survived this past year without her by his side, and if it were merely an illusion that brought her to him, he would gladly thank this insanity.

Despite the moon's absence from the night sky, the stars twinkled down. Each distinct spark had its own chilly sparkle. Tonight, without the moon's radiance, the stars relished in their own freedom. For tonight, on this new moon, the night sky was theirs and theirs alone. They were drunk with their own splendor. Little did they know that, as they strove to outshine each other, they created a light that was more brilliant than any single, proud moon.

A willowy pair of arms wrapped themselves around Erik's waist. Christine's head rested in the hollow between his shoulder blades. Erik placed his hands above hers in response. A year ago Christine's embraces were nothing but fantasy, the most impossible dreams. Now, they were something she gave him every day. Erik knew that he would never take this for granted – her warmth against his, her arms around him, her head on his back, her immense gentleness, her unending love.

"When did it start snowing?" She asked in her soprano tones.

"Around midnight." Came Erik's simple reply.

"Pity all the snow's going to melt before Christmas," Christine commented lightly.

Erik smiled, though she couldn't see it. "You never know; maybe the snow will stay for a fortnight."

She gave a single light laugh. "Probably not, but we can always hope, right? It's been so long since we've had a white Christmas,"

Erik felt rather than heard Christine's sigh. The inhalation made her press closer against him for a moment, and then withdraw by a minuscule breadth. "You couldn't sleep." It was an asserted statement, not a question. Nevertheless, he nodded in confirmation. "Why?" Came her soft question. Erik had learned to tell that she asked it not to pry into his secrets, but out of genuine concern.

In a lithe movement, he had turned around and swept Christine into his arms. "What do you say, my dear, to a much needed holiday?"

The angel before him cocked her head to the side. The flicker of starlight, and its reflected glory off the fresh-fallen snow, illuminated her. Her brunette curls were glossy in the gentle light. Her white silken nightdress all but glowed in the darkened bedroom. "A holiday?" She repeated after him in incredulity. The faintest hint of a smile teased the corners of her lips. "Where to?"

Erik shrugged. "Anywhere you want, my dear. Don't you want to get away from everything? Leave what's happened behind, at least for now." His golden eyes were alight with a flame that was not unlike his passion for music. "I've been struck by wanderlust. It turns out that I'm not so old that I've lost the urge!"

"Erik!" She admonished. "You are not old!" She cupped his face between her hands.

He chuckled. "Darling, I'm in my forties."

"That's not old; you're still in your prime." She protested.

Erik gave in to her adamant insistence. "So how does a holiday sound? You can think of it as a belated honeymoon; after all, we never did have a honeymoon after we married."

Christine nodded, enjoying the idea. "The last show of the season is this Saturday, we can leave right after,"

Erik laughed, the deep resonance vibrating warmly through the room. "And go wherever the whim takes us." He swept her of her feet and spun her around. Her bell-like laughter tinkled merrily in harmony with his rich tones. "Where will it be, Madame? Italy? Germany? Ireland? The world is ours to see; ours to explore."

Still laughing in delight, the couple tumbled onto the bed in each other's arms. "Can you imagine," Christine said breathlessly, rolling onto her back. "It was only a year ago – only a few weeks from the exact day! – when you appeared at the masque and snatched the chain off my neck? My chains are yours, I belong to you!"

Erik sobered, and spoke in a voice was filled with remorse. "I am truly sorry for falling to madness."

"The past doesn't matter any more." Christine said with resolution. "Everything that you have done is forgiven. And besides, were it not for all that had happened, we may not be here now."

Erik sighed contentedly. "You are an angel from heaven, you know that?"

"No," She disagreed gently, turning her head to look at him. "Simply a naive, shallow child who learned to grow up. You gave me my wings, Erik. You taught me how to fly." Her voice was warm as she looked forward. Her gaze was directed at the canopy of the bed, but her grey eyes were unfocused.

"Your wings were there all along, I simply showed them to you. You learned to fly all on your own."

Christine remained silent for a long time. Her breathing was deep and even, and Erik thought that she had succumbed to sleep once again. He considered trying to sleep himself, but then she spoke. "It's amazing how far we'd come. I'm so proud of you, my angel. You've let me in, past the walls and masks you barricade your heart with." She caressed the deformity of his face with a tenderness that he was beginning to accustom to.

"Because you were willing to see past them. I am exposed before you, Christine, both figuratively and literally." He mirrored her action, running his thumb across her perfect cheek. "You've seen me for all I am, for what I really am. The man behind the monster."

She closed her eyes and panted a chaste, lingering kiss on his malformed lips. "I love you, my Angel of Music."

"I love you too." His golden eyes burned with sincerity as he opened them.

Christine giggled in sudden mirth. "I know where I want to go, Erik!" She announced with zest, her grey eyes lighting up like the pre-dawn light. "I want to visit my homeland. I want to go to Sweden."

"Then Sweden it is!" He declared. "I suppose that, in that case, you will have your white Christmas after all."

Under a moonless sky once more, in a dim room illuminated by the light of the free, unrestrained stars, they fell asleep entwined in each other's arms.

A/N: First of all, apologies that the chapter is a day late, I was caught up with other stuff (ie school) last night. I COULD have edited the chapter and uploaded it, but I really can't bear to let it end.

This is the final chapter. Thank you to every single person who has read up to here. Thank you for all the support, all the reviews. You guys are all amazing.

Special shoutout to:

deathsangel95, You Are Love, 13Aphrodite, PhantomFan01, inkblottales, Shellylovestoread, zoesy27, Pointless Nostalgic, darcytess, trrmo77, aribx3, Victoria, The Phantomess 99, phangirl2017, analusilvaj, Availre, MusicalLover17, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, newbornphanatic, JollyRoger1, snowstorm-at-sunset, blackribbonedroses, Phanatic01, nerdyperformer, partypenguina3, AmandaKK, LaurenvBelladona, mamaXunicorn, AdriJB06, Million, Aline95, Ailovec, login password, RosePC786, White dragon lady, Vivianne Ravenheart, Magdeline, aPersonYouDontNeedToKnow, thegeyerguesthouse, gracial9352...

That should be it, I really hope I didn't miss anyone, but these are the people who have followed the story for a while and left reviews. Thank you so, so, so much for that. And to my readers who haven't reviewed but have read this story all the way to this final chapter (I know you exist), THANK YOU for enjoying my story. I love all of you.

If you guys enjoyed this, I hope that you'll keep an eye out for my other stories. Erik and Christine will possible make a reappearance soon ;]