Disclaimer: no money has been made off of this. oh well- No one would buy it anyway.

…

"Miss Daae, quite the performance-"

"Yes! Splendid indeed-"

"My greatest compliments-"

"Yes yes yes, she hears you all, now go away and leave her in peace!" Madam Giry yelled at the screaming crowd as she closed the door. "They never do shut up, do they?"

"Not that I know of," Christine agreed, "thank you, Madame Giry." Madame Giry nodded.

"Your performance was very good," Mme Giry assured her, "thee managers will be pleased." Christine's eyes clouded.

"Not so long ago you simply would have said he," Christine sighed. Madame Giry was silent.

"Wherever Erik is, e will be pleased to," Mme Giry said after a moment. "Now, you need some rest. If you need anything, just give me a call." Christine nodded, then turned to face mirror. Mme Giry wanted to say something else, but swallowed her words and left, leaving Christine to her thoughts.

Christine stared into the mirror in a state of thought. Her mind hummed to the ebbing tide of fading memories. So much had happened so long ago, it had all began to fuzz out. Numbness had set in, with only a reminiscence remaining. Christine stroked the mirror, as if it were the memory that she possessed of the Phantom, of Erik.

In the crack between the mirror and its frame, unnoticed by Christine, was a letter. It was written addressed to Christine in scrawling red ink, as if not a pen was used but the tips of burnt matches. In the silence, it begged to be read, like the minds of so many lonely people in a large crowd.

It was then that Christine's hands came upon the letter. She gasped, and plucked it from the crack. Her skin prickled uneasily, and her stomach churned. What's going on? She stared at the red ink, then with a sudden urge to know, tore the envelope open. Inside, there was the letter. Her heart pounding in her chest, Christine slowly unfolded the letter (careful to note how it was clumsily folded). It read as follows:

Christine-

Please come. I am dieing and want to see you one last time.

Erik

For a moment, Christine didn't move. Then, without getting on a coat, nor reading the letter over so much as twice, she simply left through the mirror.

Why didn't Christine think twice? This question may never be answered, for the reason could have spanned from love to fear. But she didn't think twice, and I believe that is important. She trusted the Phantom, after all he did.

As she descended, the air got colder and the ceilings dripped more and more. The ghosts of Opera singers long since past lingered in the very air Christine breathed. Christine, armed in no more than a skimpy dressing gown, bravely descended even though every thought in her mind told her to go back. She didn't have time, not if she was going to see Erik one last time.

As Christine picked her way down the sinking arch, cold turned to tundra. By the time she caught sight of the lake, it was as if death itself had made the Phantom's lair its' own, unlike the eerie warm of the Music of the Night or the fiery fury of her final visit. Christine broke out in a cold sweat, hoping that this omen didn't mean she was to late. Her heart rammed against her chest, and she had to take it in her hand to silence it. She glanced around, trying to get a grip on her surroundings.

And one of her glances darted upon the figure of a man lying crumpled on the ground.

…

After note: the taking her heart into her hand is a detail from the book. just soz ya know.