A Shot in the Dark
This was the night that he had been waiting for so long. And he had managed to get his Angel the leading role, and the Toad the most minor one that he written into Don Juan Triumphant, because he knew that they had to use Carlotta or they would be short a person to perform. He cursed this fact as he wrote his masterpiece, hoping that Christine's voice would make up for Carlotta's and Piangi's. He took his normal seat in box five, eager for the Opera to begin. However, despite him normally hearing all that went on around him, he didn't hear the plot far below him behind the stage.
"Is everyone ready? Take your positions. Shoot to kill, but only if you have to." Instructed Raoul. He would not take any chances of Christine being harmed, or of anything else happening to anyone else who was performing in the Phantom's 'ludicrous' (as the managers had put it) Opera. But he also wanted, if at all possible, to capture the elusive Phantom alive, and question him. Make him tell everything, so they could prevent anything like this from ever happening again to anyone at anytime. It wasn't fair to anyone, even, Raoul had to admit, the monster that claimed to love his Christine. But he would not let her be fooled. The man had no intention of truly loving her- only harming her, and anyone else. That was all the Phantom could do, it seemed to Raoul. But he was well aware that his plot to destroy the Phantom's hold on the Opera Populaire would upset his fiancée. So he kept quiet about the gunmen he had in the Orchestra pit, ready to shoot.
Christine had been there when he suggested that they do this, but she hadn't really been listening to what they were saying. She knew, but not of the guns the men held, loaded, at their sides, waiting to fire on an unknown and unseen foe they fought together, or surly she would have protested.
At the other end of the backstage area, Christine and the rest of the actors and actresses in Don Juan stood nervously, waiting for the curtain to rise.
With little warning, Madam Giry walked over and stamped her staff against the hard wood floor.
"Time to begin." She announced. Then she walked offstage as the performers took their places and waited for the curtain to rise. Christine stood offstage, waiting impatiently for her cue to enter the Opera scene. As the chorus flitted off the stage, Piangi and another man filled the expectant crowd in on the plot that lay afoot. Then they ran off the stage, hiding behind the curtain while Christine walked on stage, singing in a high register. She knew that the Opera was meant to be romantic, but she just couldn't act convincingly with Piangi singing at her side. Together though, they managed to sing "Point of no Return."
In Box Five, The Phantom looked down upon the performance disapprovingly. He was very happy with Christine's performance- she was perfect, as always. But Piangi was doing a terrible job. His grating voice was giving no justice to his beautiful lyrics. He was growing angry.
"Now, Monsieur?" asked the gunmen in the pit. Nearby, Raoul looked up at Box Five and saw the Phantom starting to stand. He began to walk away, fury blinding him as he thought of what he would do to make them learn that they needed to replace there people with real singers. He nodded. The gunman closest to Box Five took aim as the Phantom walked away, his cloak billowing behind him.
The noise echoed through the Opera House, the Phantom's cry of pain following it quietly.
Christine stopped performing, leaving Piangi standing there, waiting for her to sing again. Instead, she ran from the stage, her brown curls flying behind her, and up to Box Five. There lay Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, her Angel of Music. He lay on his back, blood seeping around him in an ominous pool. It soaked through his cloak, and his fedora was lying on its back three feet away from him. He was barely alive, having been shot in the chest near his heart. They later discovered that his left lung was punctured, and the bullet imbedded into it.
Christine muffled her cry of horror at the image that lay before her. She desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Her angel was dying, and she knew it. He winced as she removed his cloak, trying to make him more comfortable.
"I'm sorry, Angel." She whispered, removing his mask, tears sliding down her cheeks and smearing her makeup for Don Juan Triumphant. Erik wheezed painfully in the effort to speak.
"Ch-Christine, I love you." He gasped. There. He had said it. And he didn't have to worry about the fear of rejection either, for he knew that he would not live through this. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his life lay around his body in a red puddle.
Christine moved closer, kneeling, not caring that the knees of her gown were becoming stained. She gently tried to roll him over onto his back. He bit his lip so hard it bled, trying not to scream as icy sharp pain pricked its way up his spine.
Ignoring the bubbly red fluid that stained her Angel's deformed lips she leaned down to him and kissed him softly. All she could taste of the kiss was the blood on his mouth.
When she pulled back, she realized that he was no longer breathing, and his eyes had slid shut.
Crying harder than ever, she cradled his now lifeless body to hers. And that was how they found her, blood staining her dress, hands, and lips, tears mixing with the crimson substance, holding the Phantom in the first and final embrace of his life.