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The authoress would like to take the time to thank each and every one of you who have taken your time to read her story. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, notes of encouragement, and support. Receiving them make my day that much brighter!

And now without further adieu—

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One Good Turn part XV

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"Mister Ribaldi." A voice exclaimed in a thick Russian accent. Meg's eyes shot open. "And it is an honor to meet you, Madam de Chagny." The voice continued speaking in heavily Russian-accented French, drawing ever nearer. "Megan says you are the sister of her heart—her family." The voice appeared behind her, as did two gloved hands placing themselves gently but firmly on her shoulders. Meg began to tremble. "As such, it is quite the honor to meet your acquaintance."

This was surreal. Too strange to be borne. Right then, the child chose that moment to awaken and cry, and Christine rose to attend him. Meg looked up and saw Erik's unblinking gaze fastened on Christine; his flesh-colored mask blended so that his face appeared uniform, ordinary and seamless. His hands and eyes communicated what his facial expressions and voice could not, and she swallowed back the emotion she was feeling watching him as he watched Christine rock her babe. Her friend began humming snippets of nonsense to the child. And Meg closed her eyes when she heard her begin to sing softly. She felt Erik's hands on her shoulders tense the slightest bit.

After a minor eternity, the child quieted and went back to sleep. And seating herself once more while holding the babe, Christine looked at them both expectantly, oblivious to all.

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Christine…in front of him! Holding her child that was fathered by another!

Erik's agile mind sought to make sense of this turn of events. He had heard Megan speaking to another from his entrance through the bedroom window. The other spoke softly. Yet from the first word, he knew her voice. She still had feelings for him! She still wanted in some small way to be with him!

It was incredible. It was farcical!

Spying from the doorjamb, he studied her.

The child he had known and tutored had blossomed beautifully, of that there could be no doubt. Her figure was lush and round, her waist still tiny though her bosom had swelled to accommodate the task of motherhood. And the child—the fop's child—was, of course, formed perfectly.

He had heard Megan make a choked sound, and then Christine was reaching for Megan's locket. The locket that held his picture…and then she was proclaiming him handsome!

Erik had chosen that moment to make his entrance.

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Placing his hands proprietarily on Megan's shoulders, Erik watched Christine as she tended her babe, his hands tensing minutely on Megan's form. Noticing her trembling, he looked down, and drew a silent gasp at what he saw.

His Megan was terrified! Terrified! The fear in her eyes bared for him to see.

Sweet Jesu! Could she think him so faithless? So lacking in restraint that he would leave her?!

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath to calm the bevy of emotions he was feeling, isolating each one to deal with later. Releasing her shoulders, he sat at the other end of the settee, putting a small bit of distance between them both. This was a very dangerous game he was playing, one wrong move and all the plans he had been making could topple away like so much a castle of sand. His very future with the woman he loved depended on the guise he was portraying.

He spoke casually, the mildest bit of interest in his disguised voice as he stated, "And so madam, I take it you will be staying here in St. Petersberg for a time."

Christine's eyes sparkled with delight looking from the one to the other of them. She was obviously happy for her friend. "Yes, indeed, monsieur. Three months more or less to be exact."

"You must call me Ribaldi. Everyone else does."

"And you may feel free to call me Christine. After all, I believe we are going to be seeing one another fairly frequently over the coming months." She gave a charming wink, and his Megan gave another choked sound. Erik breathed in and out, moving minutely closer to Megan. He reached over and pulled the bell pull, ordering tea.

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"So, how did you both meet?" Christine studied them expectantly over her cup of tea, blowing the billowing steam to cool it.

He fixed Megan a cup which she promptly sat down again untouched. He moved minutely closer to her, and reaching casually, Erik took her hand and held it in his as he stated in Russia-fied French, "I was quite despondent upon meeting her, Madam de Chagny. You see, I am a composer, and since you yourself— as Megan tells me—were once an artist, I need not relate the melancholia that can come from personal failure and romantic heartbreak."

Christine tutted and nodded sympathetically, and Erik had to work from keeping a dry note from entering his voice, "Passions run high for those of us so inclined, and so, I must say that upon our first real acquaintance, I was not very, how do you say… nice." He heard Megan snort softly beside him, and he chafed her hand, encouraging her to stay with him a little longer, and not escape into her dream world. "In writing a piece of music, I had occasion to call upon the ballet company to study the movements of the dancers as they perform. And I need not tell you that Megan shown like a diamond among them. And from the moment I watched her perform, I was enamored." Erik adopted a casual air and reached around, pulling Megan closer to him until she rested against his side. "I don't know if you've ever seen Mademoiselle Giry perform with her partner Monsieur Demidov, but they are sensational together and not to be missed."

He saw Christine smile widely, "I am indeed looking forward to it! But please do go on with your tale."

He nodded his head in acquiescence, "And so, upon realizing my feelings for mademoiselle, I proceeded to do everything in my power to drive her away." Christine laughed lightly, and Erik allowed a small smile to grace his lips as he studied Christine who was looking at them both expectantly. He stated without remorse, "After all, I had suffered heartbreak just before meeting Megan, and the woman responsible had quite demolished my hopes of ever finding one in which I could trust again with my heart."

Christine broke in. "Oh! I do hope the woman responsible receives her comeuppance." Erik smiled viciously. "The woman responsible quite wrote me out of her life. I feel I can only do likewise. After all, turnabout is fair play, Madam de Chagny. If there is one thing in this life of which I am certain, it is that." He shook his head sadly and sighed, "Ah, but in abusing me thusly, the woman showed me what love truly was not. Whereas my Megan—," Erik picked up and kissed her hand, meeting her eyes and holding her gaze, "—showed me exactly what the meaning of love is." He turned towards her fully, taking both her hands.

"I had wanted to save this, my dear, for after the performance, but I believe now may be the appropriate time." Erik lowered himself to one knee before her seated form to Christine's gasp. He met Megan's uncertain, yet hopeful, stare, and touched her quivering chin. "Monsieur Demidov has purchased the rights to perform The Red Shoes pending a proviso of creative collaboration with you." Her eyes grew wide.

"I am to be held on retainer for consultation concerning the inner workings of the theatre and to give advice concerning the operations and management therein. It seems in some aspects, Mademoiselle Demidov is quite out of her depth. And when she heard of my previous experience in theatre management, as well as a few well-placed suggestions regarding the management of her ballet, it seems she found it worthwhile to keep me around." Erik's eyes sparkled. "In taking Monsieur Demidov's advice and a very generous offer of an allotment of land at a reasonable price, I have built us a house rather near this one so that you may continue perfecting your art without the inconvenience of a long trek to and from practice and the theatre. As such, I would like us to marry as soon as possible. That is, if you agree?"

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By the end of Erik's speech, Meg's heart was in her throat, and her head was spinning. He had been in contact with Nikolai and Valentina! He was going to be a consultant for the ballet! He built them a house?! She replied chokingly, "Was that a proposal, maestro?"

His lips twisted wryly and his yellow eyes sparkled with humor. "It was."

"Well, come on, Meg! Don't keep the man in suspense! Let 'im know!"

Erik and Meg both turned their heads slowly to look at Christine. The brown-headed vixen smiled mischievously at them both and adjusting the child she held, cleared her throat, "Right, then. I can see that my presence here is slightly unwarranted, so... Christof and I we'll… just see ourselves out. Shall we?" As she said this, she gathered her babe close, rose, and quietly left the room.

Erik dropped the Russian affectation from his speech and peeled off his flesh-colored mask, preferring to face her in his natural state for this all important conversation. His eyes held hers steadily, and he felt a bit of anxiety when she didn't immediately answer. "Well, what say you Mademoiselle Giry? Will you do Erik the honor of becoming Erik's wife in name as well as deed?"

Meg proceeded to think on it for all of two seconds before launching herself at him, laughing, "Of course I'll marry you, you foolish man! How could you ever doubt it?!" They wound up on the floor, Erik pinned beneath her in an ensuing tangle of arms and limbs.

He blinked up at her, incredulous, "How could I ever doubt it, Megan?! How could you ever doubt it? Mon dieu, woman! You show me in one day more love and acceptance than I have ever known in my entire life before you. You have given me faith and restored my hope. You cherish me as I cherish and worship you!" He hugged her tightly to him, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts push against his thin chest. She sighed and burrowed against his neck inhaling his scent. Erik closed his eyes, "Oh, my sweet love! How could you, for one moment, think yourself so diminished in my eyes?"

When she didn't answer, Erik nudged her shoulder and forced her head up until she met his stare once more. "I meant what I said, Megan. The past is the past. My acquaintanceship with Christine de Chagny née Daae is no more. From now on, my dear, every person I encounter will only know me as Ribaldi, the brilliant and eccentric Russian composer. And only you, my Megan, will know me as Erik." He brought her left hand up to his mouth and placed a gentle, lingering kiss.

When Meg looked down, a square-cut emerald ring adorned her ring finger, and she smiled softly, examining the beautiful stone in the light. "It matches the other I gave you so long ago, ptichka. I will have that one mounted in a tiara perhaps, so that you may wear it in your beautiful hair." So saying, Meg felt him deftly begin to pluck the pins from her hair free until the golden, fragrant mass tumbled all around them. He met her gaze, his yellow eyes shining brightly, "After all, my Megan, I plan to spend the rest of my life treating you like a queen."

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Epilogue

Ten Years Later…

"Christine says she and Raoul are expecting another child."

"Mon dieu! What does that make? Number four? Five?

"Six actually. Remember, her last birthing was twins." Meg finished securing the pin that held her hair in place, once more admiring the emerald tiara as it glittered from the new electric lights that Erik just had installed in their Russian home a few weeks ago. The years had been quite kind to the little ballerina, gracing her with a gentle poise and self assurance that had served her well in her position as Principal Dancer for St. Petersberg, world renown for her role as Karen in Ribaldi's The Red Shoes. "And then Valentina writes she and her husband will be meeting us in Morocco for the tour of The Red Shoes in a couple months. Nick says the box offices have been sold out for weeks. He's thinking of extending the tour."

Meg glanced over her shoulder at Erik slyly. He was fussing with the flaps of his bowtie; she noticed her maestro's hands were less than steady. "You're going to be brilliant, you know?" She met his eyes in the mirror; they were filled with anxiety. "This is hardly your first premier, Erik."

He huffed, "Yes, my dear. But it's the first of its kind to utilize such new-fangled technology." The bowtie refused to be subdued, and Meg watched as Erik yanked it off in frustration and began again. Tsking, she stood, and making her way over to him, took the bowtie in hand and steadily finished the job.

She then drew his unmasked face down until it barely grazed her own as she met his stare. "You are a genius! (kiss) A brilliant, successful composer! (kiss, kiss) And now, you can add cinematographer to that list. (kiss, kiss, kiss!) He smiled, and she felt the tension in his thin shoulders relax slightly.

She hugged him tight, mumbling, "And in all the success that is to come, maestro, don't you go forgetting you are my husband!"

He laughed, a sound that never failed to invoke tendrils of desire arcing straight to her core. Meg looked at the clock hopefully but then sighed; they didn't have time. She felt his fingers draw her chin up until she was looking at him once more. He stated solemnly, "Of all that I am, Megan, being your husband is my greatest feat and joy. And don't you for one moment, ptichka, forget it."

Finis.

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A/N: I do hope the wait was worth it dear readers! Please let this unassuming authoress know won't you by putting a review in the alms box on your way out the door.

Thank you! And I do hope we meet one another again soon.

Until next time!

DGM