Circle

A Phantom of the Opera Fan fiction in Five Acts

By Firepelt

ACT I

Circle encircles the earth

Chance and Choice break his heart

His innocent arm moves

To save me and I am saved

'You have to leave!'

'What?'

'Go now!'

Paris, December 21, 1881

Don't look back. It will only cause you more pain. You silly girl, thinking that you could save him… You foolish child, thinking that he was lying… You… you… you…

Christine Daaé looked around the ruined lair of the Phantom of the opera. He had once been there as well, until the mob. Sometimes, if she imagined it, she could feel his arms around her, his soft kisses, his gentle tears… Those were the last memories that she had of her Phantom. He had been cut down, and she had just stood and watched, with her Vicomte at her side. She had betrayed him, and left him with his arms stretched out for her. They had been stretched out until he died. It had been only a year ago, when he died, and still, the mob had not completely ruined his lair. His beautiful organ was broken, and torches were scattered on the ground. Christine spotted something on the floor. It was a white mask, the mask of her Erik.

'Erik?'

No reply. Of course there was no reply. He was long dead, and he wasn't coming back. For all she knew, he was damned to hell for what he had done to so many people, to so many that were innocent…

'You were innocent too, Erik.'

Christine kissed the mask and curled up once more on Erik's bed. She let a few tears fall onto the velvet blanket, and fell into an uneasy slumber.

Paris, May 14, 1880

Christine looked at the cast for Erik's opera, Don Juan Triumphant. Once again, she was the lead. Erik hadn't come to teach her the songs though, and her maestro was not as skilled as the dark Angel himself. As Amnita, Christine was to sing with the casted Don Juan, Piangi. Piangi was a short, somewhat plump man, with a very powerful tenor. She missed her Angel's voice though, and hoped that he would return to the stage and sweep her away once more.

'Christine,'

She turned to face Meg Giry, her best friend. Meg looked worried, and Christine couldn't understand why.

'Raoul wants to speak with you.' Meg said quietly. 'He's waiting in the back hallway.'

Christine didn't know what it was all about, but she decided to go and see what Raoul was up to.

'Little Lotte, you must!'

Raoul looked around frantically for any sign of the Phantom of the Opera. Erik had been on his tail since the day Christine met him on the rooftop.

'I can't, Raoul. I'm scared, and alone in this. We can't… What horrors wait for me in the Phantom's Opera?'

Raoul hugged Christine and kissed her on the forehead. He heard a noise and looked toward its source. There was nothing in the corner where he heard it. It was then that a haunting voice echoed throughout the hall.

'I am your Angel of Music…'

Christine got up and ran. She couldn't bear to face Erik, not after she had just talked to Raoul about his death… It couldn't be done!

Erik sat in his underground lair, sulking as usual. How foolish he was, to think that she had maybe even the smallest sliver of compassion for him. How foolish he had been to go to the Masquerade. He had almost kissed her that night. How foolish he was to have brought her down to his lair, to sing to her the Music of the Night, and even more than that, how foolish he was to think that he could love her like Raoul could.

'Let my opera begin!' Erik cried as he set aflame the small diorama of the stage. He watched as the little figurine of Christine withered in the flames. He was sure he could see tears coming from the little figure's eyes. He then took the Erik figurine and snapped one of its arms off. He heard a cry of pain, but he knew it was all in his head. Slowly, he dismembered the likeness of himself, throwing each piece into the fire, with the now scorched little Christine. Before tossing the rest of the Erik figurine into the fire, he took off its little mask, and beheld the marvellous likeness to his own face. He had carefully carved scars into the right side of the figurine's face, and covered it with a white mask. He was sure that if the little Erik could think, he'd know what was coming next.

Erik screamed a tormented, two-tonal scream, and threw the little Erik into the fire, where he seemed to dance with the little scorched Christine. The figurines were soon turned to dust, and Erik looked at the last one remaining. It was a little Raoul that he had made after Christine had told him about her boy. He threw the small Raoul into the lake, where it calmly settled to the bottom.

Christine stood on the stage, waiting for Piangi. He didn't arrive. It was opening night for Don Juan Triumphant, and the Don Juan had disappeared. Christine closed her eyes and waited for what she knew to happen when crowds were displeased. The jeers never came. Instead, an angelic voice cut through the silence.

'Past the point of no return, the final threshold!'

It was Erik! Her true maestro had returned. She dared not look at him, for fear of seeing anger in his eyes. Erik approached Christine and spun her around to face him. There was no anger in his eyes, only sadness and hurt. Christine let her own tears fall as Erik sang to her, and as she sang back to him.

'Do it, Christine… Take off his mask, and reveal to me this Phantom of the Opera!' Raoul whispered from Box 5. He watched intensely as Erik leaned forward to kiss his Angel. Christine then did the unthinkable. She ripped off Erik's mask and wig and exposed him to the crowd. That was when she saw the anger in his eyes.

Erik's emotions raged within him. How dare she humiliate him in front of all of Paris? It was not what was supposed to happen! Erik knew in his heart of hearts, that although she may have once cared for him, he would never have a happy ending with her. In a fury, he cut the rope holding the chandelier, and watched as the patrons screamed and ran in terror of the raining fire. This was his ending. Just like Little Erik. Just like Little Christine. Erik was sure that Raoul would drown in the lake, just like Little Raoul. He kicked a switch and fell through the fire on the stage down through a trapdoor, all the while, holding onto Christine.

Christine looked at Raoul as she fell and mouthed the words, 'Don't' follow me…' She knew that Erik would never let her go, not until he died. Erik was always there, inside her mind.