He knew it was the end.

Their singing lessons, guiding her down to his lair under the ruse of being her Angel of Music, and all of the magical moments they had shared…it was all over.

Erik knew this as he prepared the chains and ropes for the chandelier, setting it up so he could drop it when she revealed him to the world. He feared this moment, but he had overheard the plan. The gendarme were to be in the Opera House, and they were to fire at the first opportune shot.

He knew Christine was frightened; he heard her crying in her room shortly after Raoul and she had come back from the cemetery. He had to fight the impulse to slip into the room and comfort her as her pain made him wrench. Her fear was what might save them both.

…

Twisted every way,
what answer can I give?
Am I to risk my life
to win the chance to live?
Can I betray the man who
once inspired my voice?
Do I become his prey?
Do I have any choice?
He kills without a thought.
He murders all that's good
I know I can't refuse,
and yet, I wish I could.
Oh, God, if I agree
what horrors wait for me
in this…
the Phantom's opera.

Erik listened painfully to his darling angel sing these words, and he knew that he had wrecked her. He had been painted as nothing but a monster in her eyes, and it wrenched his heart to listen to her describe him as a cold-blooded murderer. But then again, he supposed that he deserved all that she sang about him.

The end was drawing nigh, and Erik brooded as he deftly moved back down to his lair. He had to get ready for the performance, after all.

Seal my fate tonight.
I hate to have to cut the fun short.
But the joke's wearing thin.
Let the audience in.
Let my opera begin!

…

Passarino…
go away for the trap is set
and waits for its prey…

His melodious voice rang through the opera house, and he could almost see the shiver run up her spine as he drew out his last note. Scanning quickly, he noted the place of each gendarme, eyeing their rifles they clutched tightly to their chests.

You have come here
in pursuit of your deepest urge.
In pursuit of that wish which
'til now has been silent…
Silent…

He pressed the finger to his lips, and her eyes darted back in his direction, but she still tried to fiddle with the flowers, distracting herself the best she could.

I have brought you
that our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you've already succumbed
to me, dropped all defenses
Completely succumbed to me.
Now you are here with me
No second thoughts
You've decided…
Decided….

But would she make the right decision? Would she rescue them both from the chance of a bullet by exposing him so he could save their lives?

Past the point of no return,
no backward glances,
our games of make-believe are at an end…

Past all thought of "if" or "when"
no use resisting,
abandon thought and let the dream
descend

He slowly circled her, and he saw the wakening of her soul. Fascination and fear mixed across her features as he drew his hand down, preparing himself for what he wanted to do next: He wanted to hold her close, feel her skin against his for the whole world to see. He wanted her to his.

What raging FIRE shall flood the soul

He captured her in his arms, drawing in her scent deeply from the nape of her neck. Erik knew that this chance would probably not come again for some time, so he enjoyed it for as long as he could.

What rich desire unlocks its door
what sweet seduction lies before us?

Slowly drawing his arms down her arm, the hair on the back of his neck alive as he felt the goose bumps coursing down her arm. All he could imagine was his lips on hers, but he pulled himself away, gently tugging on her bracelet as he drew away.

Past the point of no return
the final threshold
what warm unspoken secrets
will we learn?
Beyond the point of no return.

The fascination was gone. He could see the fear written over her features, and was it…horror?

You have brought me
to that moment when words run dry
to that moment when speech disappears
into silence…
Silence…

Her features were mixed in fear, and he saw the terror slowly seizing her heart. But her fear should be what saves them…or so he hoped.

I have come here,
hardly knowing the reason why.
In my mind I've already imagined
our bodies entwining,
defenseless and silent..
Now I am here with you,
no second thoughts,
I've decided…
Decided…

They turned towards the stairs, slowly starting their ascent. Her steps were bolder, and he saw the woman in her starting to blossom. Did she finally understand what needed to happen to save both of their lives?

Past the point of no return
no going back now.
Our passion-play has now at last begun.

Past all thought of right or wrong,
one final question:
How long should we two wait
before we're one?

She bowed out slightly from the staircase, and the passion rang clearly in her voice. He couldn't help but feel love and pride for his ingénue. She had come so far in such a short time, and her voice clearly showed it.

When will the blood begin to race?
The sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames at last
CONSUME us?

They started to step towards each other, singing as they were getting ready to meet in the middle.

Past the point of no return
the final threshold
the bridge is crossed,
so stand and watch it burn.
We've passed the point of no return.

At last, she was in his arms yet again. He knew it wouldn't be for long, but he still cherished the feeling of her again, slowly savoring the feel of her soft and supple skin beneath his fingertips. He knew just what would trigger her to expose him in order to save both of their lives.

Say you'll share with me
one love, one lifetime.
Lead me, save me from
my solitude.
Say you'll ….
Christine,
that's all I ask of you!

He looked deeply into her eyes, and he saw the passion sweep quickly into remorse. As she went to peel his mask off, he flinched, knowing what was to come next. But all he heard was the sound of a shot ringing out.

…

"You fool!" Christine heard as Erik slumped to the ground in front of her. She felt a searing pain in her shoulder, an indication that the shot had grazed her as it dug deep into Erik's chest. "You were supposed to wait for a clearer shot!" She recognized the voice as Raoul's, but all she could hear was the screaming, piercing and near deafening as it flooded her ears.

But she realized the screaming came from her own mouth as she wept for her Angel, now bleeding his life on to her pale hands. She heard the footsteps coming up on the stairs to join her, to pull her away from her beloved tutor, and in a sense of rage, fear, and sorrow, she blacked out.

…

Madame Giry moved up the stairs behind her daughter, desperate to save her second daughter from the grief that was sure to hit her. But quicker than they could move, Christine had snapped the rope on stage, and she watched in horror as the chandelier started to shake, ready to come down.

"Christine, no!" she called, but all she heard was the sobs coming from Christine and the gasps of horror from the rest of the opera house as they started to flee. A horrific melody of screams, crying, and thundering footsteps rang through the walls, and she heard Meg pleading with Christine.

"Please, Christine, we need to go! The opera house is going to burn to the ground!"

"I don't care!" Christine screamed, still clutching Erik's body tightly to her. "I won't leave."

Madame Giry hobbled up the rest of the stairs and joined her daughter in pleading with Christine, but the young soprano would not be swayed. It was not until Meg pulled her friend away that the violence started to show as Christine swiped at them both, desperate to lash out and protect her last wish.

Finally, Madame Giry had enough of this and stepped between the two, smacking Christine across the face. "Enough! I will not stand here and watch you burn with the rest of this cursed opera house. Come along! Think of what your father would want for you!"

Christine was still reeling from the shock; that much was clearly on her face. But she finally set Erik down, her dress covered in blood as she grabbed her friend's hand with her own bloody hand and let herself be guided down the stairs, tears still streaking her face.

"Mon ange…" Madame Giry heard Christine whisper as they escaped into the dark of the night.

…

Raoul allowed himself to be pushed to his wife's grave, feeling the recent loss still pluck at his heart strings. But he knew if he gave it to her, part of their past would finally be at rest.

She never quite forgave him for the shooting that occurred. He saw it in her eyes every time they looked upon each other; her eyes, which used to sparkle with a light-hearted joy, had now turned to swirling pits of blackness, the sorrow lost in them. Every time he saw her arm, he saw the scar from where the bullet had seared her, and it tore him in two knowing the damage that he caused her.

Thinking of it all caused tears to well in his eyes, and he sighed deeply as they rolled up to his beloved wife's grave.

"Oh, Christine," he sighed, his voice wavering. He looked down, starting to move forward to place the music box on her headstone, but as he did, he shook with fear.

Because there laid a red rose, the black ribbon holding tightly the engagement ring that Raoul had given her so many years ago. He felt a chill run down his spine, and as he looked up to examine the rest of the gravestones, he saw a black blurry figure weave through the cemetery, quickly slinking off into the fog.

Raoul's voice came out as a chilled whisper, the music box shaking in his hands.

"The Angel lives…"