A/N: Hi everyone!
So basically in this fanfic, Raoul kills the Phantom instead of listening to Christine and walking away - but can you really kill a ghost...?
I really hope you enjoy this - its my first fanfiction, so reviews would be really nice - if you don't really like it, then tell me!
So here goes, and again, I hope its enjoyable!
Crystalline flakes of icy snow drift around the cemetery, carried by the cold, biting breeze. Stone angels stand proudly, guarding the spirits of the wandering dead as the whispers of long-forgotten pasts entwine with the chilling wind.
The Vicomte de Chagny ignores the frozen beauty around him, as he stares into the calm emerald green orbs of the masked man at his feet.
It is all over, now, the man's eyes seem to be saying. The Vicomte agrees mentally, as he draws back his sword-arm to destroy the monster lying defenceless on the ground.
"Raoul…no!"
He turns his head dully, to the brunette girl standing behind him, her eyes wide with disbelief, slim pale hand outstretched.
"Christine, I am going to end this. Now."
He turns away from her, and raises the sword once again. The emerald eyes close, as if in acceptance, and the side of the face not covered by the mask twists in grim amusement.
Weep for the man who has fallen so far...
Suffer for the pain of the twisted genius...
Crimson blood splatters out, turning the pure white snow to a washed-out red. The hand that had been about to pull his arm from its path drops limply, and he hears the involuntary gasp of pain that escapes her.
"Christine…" he murmurs, rotating to face his fiancé.
She stands; eyes clenched shut, body rigid. Locks of curly brown hair fall over her shoulders in disordered chaos.
"Christine…?"
"Leave." One word, spoken softly, but clearly. There is no malice, no viciousness, nor anger or sorrow in her voice.
The voice is dead, like the man who still bleeds onto the snow-coated ground.
"But…"
She opens her brilliant blue eyes and stares at him steadily. He bites his lip, and gives in. Stepping past her, his shoulder barely brushes hers.
He does not turn to see her bend down to the still-warm corpse. When he mounts the horse, he does not look back as the first tears begin to fall silently down her face.
Why?
He doesn't need to.
The horse races back to the Opera House, spurred on by the pain and death it has left behind. The Vicomte dismounts, not bothering to wait for the animal to be led to its stable. Striding to the manager's office, he knocks and enters without waiting to be asked in.
"Ah…Vicomte…!?" The managers and Madame Giry look up in surprise at the bleeding nobleman, gleaming weapon dulled by a rusty crimson liquid.
Raoul drops the bloodstained sword on the floor in front of them
"The Phantom of the Opera is dead."
"The Phantom of the Opera is dead…"
"The Opera Ghost is gone…"
"Did you hear? The Vicomte killed him…!"
"That can't be right – ghosts don't die…"
"She was there, wasn't she...?"
"She?"
"Christine Daaé, of course…!"
She walks through the corridors, blue cloak fluttering in her wake, deaf to the hushed murmurings around her.
"Christine!"
Christine.
Her name.
Of course…
She turns, to see her blonde friend rush to her side.
"Did you hear, Christine? The Phantom of the Opera is dead!"
Of course, she has heard – her head moves slightly in acknowledgment.
"Oh…" Unnerved by the vacant expression in Christine's azhure eyes, Meg uneasily moves away.
"Well, I've got to go – or I'll be late for the dance rehearsals. I'll speak to you later, Christine!"
By the time the dancer's footsteps have faded away from earshot, Christine has already forgotten their conversation, and her feet have taken her to the door of her dressing-room.
Slowly, she opens the door, stepping inside.
Nothing has changed – nor should it have, she thinks in vague surprise.
She reaches out to brush the large mirror slightly with the backs of her fingers.
"Angel…" she sighs, not so much as a word as a coherent exhalation.
"Christine, you have rehearsals."
Surprised from her reverie, she turns to see Madame Giry's head from around the half-closed door. Another softer sigh escapes her.
"I am coming," she says, dropping her cloak to the table, and leaving the room.
The door closes.
Within the room, nothing moves.
Not the small bugs, nor the rats in the tunnel behind the mirror.
Everything seems to be holding its breath…
Waiting…
Waiting…
And finally…
"Christine…"
The silence has broken.
So...what did you think?
PLEASE tell me what you thought!!! And if you think I should continue - I really want to know if this fic is worth continuing!!
Thanks again for reading!
DarkSp'rit