Author's note: this story takes place at the very end of the phantom of the opera movie/play. In the end, however, Christine decides to stay with the phantom instead of Raul.
Unfortunately, none of these characters are mine. They belong to someone far richer and more powerful. –pout-
Happily Ever After?
Christine let go of Raul and followed the phantom into his sleeping chamber. She watched from the shadows with a broken heart as his tear-stained face glowed with love and loss. Staring intently into his music box, he sang softly, "Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you."
His tone was soft and broken, and Christine closed her eyes as the familiar words echoed a deeper and much more solemn meaning. The poor man was a genius, why couldn't anyone else see that he – suddenly she realized that she was no different from the rest. She had condemned him in front of the world; ripped apart his dreams like they meant nothing.
She took a deep breath and resolutely crossed the damp stone floor to stand in front of him. She tried to speak, but when his brown eyes met hers, she couldn't. His mask was off, and the right side of his face was made more distressing by the candlelight, but she was transfixed by the obvious love and adoration in his eyes; the hope that she wouldn't leave him. She felt her resolutions breaking down. She could drown in those eyes………
The phantom sang softly and sweetly, "Christine, I love you." She felt her heart expand and an elated feeling passed through her. She longed to sit beside him and hold him and let their tears wash them both away, but somehow his engagement ring was off of her finger, one that tied her both to Raul and the phantom. She felt as if she were giving a piece of herself away.
As she held the ring out to the phantom she saw all of the hope leave his face. He understood that she was leaving him. A tear laced down his cheek, but he didn't beg her to stay. She pressed the ring into his trembling hand and closed his fingers around it. She put as much love into her gaze as she could, hoping the he would understand and forgive her for her decision. And then she walked away from him.
Raul guided her to the phantom's boat with shaking steps, and for the first time Christine became aware of how much danger they were in. Bits of fire were falling down from the burning opera house and landing with a hiss in the lake. She could hear shouts and screams from up above and thought that she could hear someone crying her name. Meg? She thought dizzily. Before she knew it, she was in the boat and Raul was shoving off with the long black pole. As she hung onto his shoulder, Christine tried to think of something to say to him, but nothing came. Instead, she started a song that she knew the phantom would remember, and her voice rang out among the outcropped rocks with an unsurpassed sweetness. Raul joined her in the end with his rich tenor, and she found herself wishing that he was the phantom instead; that it was the phantom in the boat with her. She imagined him leaning in to kiss her, whispering her name………
Her head spinning, Christine realized she really did love the phantom. He'd been her friend and teacher since her father had died; she owed everything to him. She was just a trophy to Raul, a pretty trophy that he had known as a child, but he didn't know her now. He was in love with someone who didn't exist anymore. Christine struggled with her thoughts, her hand slipping from Raul's shoulder. Where would she and the phantom go? The opera was finished. Would he even take her now, after she'd broken his heart? She knew that she had to try, or else she'd mourn her first true love for the rest of her life. She heard the phantom's voice behind her, "You alone can make my song take flight," and she made her choice. Turning Raul's face to her, she kissed him softly and said, "Thank you for everything." Then she turned and jumped out of the boat.
The water closed over her head and she struggled to reach the surface again. The water was warmer than she expected and it saturated her dress, weighing her down. She panicked a little before coming to her senses and kicking furiously. Finally she came up, sputtering, and heard Raul calling her name. She turned to see him attempting to turn the boat around, his face a whirl of confusion. Struggling to stay afloat, she called out, "No Raul! Get out of here! I'm staying with him, I'm sorry!"
"No, Christine!" He called, "Stay with me………"
But Christine turned around and swam with all of her strength to the shore of the phantom's hideaway. She heard Raul continue to call to her, but she didn't turn around again. Gasping for breath, she finally felt her feet drag the bottom that led to the shore. She dragged herself out of the water, her heavy dress locking around her knees. She flipped her wet hair out of her eyes and looked around. The phantom was standing in front of a mirror with a look of despair and held a brass candlestick in his right hand. With a great cry, he smashed the mirror and it fell away, leaving a dark path visible inside the huge gold frame. He began to step inside it.
"Wait!" Christine cried. He whirled around when he heard her voice, but when he saw her standing there, dripping wet and panting, his face went blank and he just stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Biting her lip, Christine untangled her dress and walked up to him slowly. He still had not moved, but she saw a tear fall onto his cheek. She took a shaky breath and put her left hand up to his scarred face. She smiled a watery smile and then wrapped both arms around his strong waist and buried her face into his shoulder. "I love you," she whispered, and closed her eyes.
Slowly his arms came up and wrapped around her. After a moment of silence, he lifted her face up with one hand. He stepped back, took her by the shoulders, and whispered, "What are you doing?"
He was so vulnerable then. She could almost feel his hope battling with his reason. She tried to step close to him again, but he held her away. "I'm staying with you," she said, "I love you."
He ducked his head and turned away from her, bringing his hands up to cover his face. She just stood there, unsure of what to do next; fearful that he would reject her.
"Oh, Christine," he said softly, "What have I done to brainwash you? You'll have no life with me, you've seen my face."
He turned back to face her. Christine picked up his mask off of a nearby table and placed it on his face. It seemed to be a part of him now, she was so used to seeing him with it on. He looked so handsome.
"I know exactly what I'm doing. We can be happy together. Don't shut me out. Let me in." He didn't answer her, but lifted his hand and gently traced her collarbone with his fingertips, as if he had to assure himself that she was real.
"Please," Christine pleaded. "You're a good man. People will see that. They can see through appearances."
The phantom moved his hand up to her neck and laced his fingers in her hair. "Christine," he said firmly, "I've done murder."
She looked down guiltily, unsure of how to react. He had indeed killed two people in his pursuit of her, and she knew that he was dangerous when provoked, like a wolf locked up in a cage. But what could provoke that side of him if they were together? She knew there was a great deal of good in him, but he had convinced himself that he was worthless. She knew that she could bring him back to humanity, and make him realize that he had a right to the same happiness as everyone else.
With a look of determination, she said, "I know. I can forgive you. I'm not afraid of you."
With a tortured look, he rasped, "Maybe you should be." He turned away and slung his best black cloak around his shoulders. He pocketed a few treasures: a golden locket, some coins, a small key, and a drawing he had done of Christine. He buckled a leather belt and a sword around his wais and she watched the candlelight flash on the blade. He pulled a second cloak across Christine's small frame and took her hand.
"I'm sure you'll come to see sense soon," he said, "but we can't stay here. People are coming."
He led her to the hidden passage beneath the broken mirror and pulled a heavy red curtain over it to conceal its presence. Then he stepped confidently inside it, disappearing from her view.
"Come, Christine," he called softly. Obediently, she stepped into the blackness. She reached out her hand and brushed against his soft cloak, which she clutched tightly and used to pull herself to him. He wrapped one arm reassuringly around her waist and they started walking. Their footsteps echoed dimly and Christine thought that she could hear voices. The Phantom's sword rasped lightly against the wall in some places, making her jump a little.
"Where does this lead?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"Behind the opera house," he answered. "It should start to go uphill soon."
Sure enough, the ground began to tilt upward, and Christine had to take longer strides to keep up with his confident pace. Her legs began to ache, but she kept her spirits up by imaging where the phantom was taking her. Quite suddenly, she realized that she didn't know his name. What was she supposed to call him? Phantom? Troubled, she grabbed his hand and stopped walking. His arm still around her waist, he turned to face her. They were standing very close in the dark tunnel, and she could hear his ragged breathing match her own. She wondered if it was from the uphill climb or from how close they were standing. For her it was a little bit of both.
"Yes?" he whispered, "What is it?"
"This is going to sound ridiculous," she said, "but I don't even know your name." She bit her lip, embarrassed. The phantom just chuckled.
"No one knows my name," he said, "it's been a long time since I needed one." He paused for a minute, as if trying to remember, and then said, "My name was Erik."
She noticed the use of the word "was" instead of "is," but she decided not to push the matter. She snuggled even closer to him, and heard him suck in a surprised breath. She lifted her face up to his and kissed him lightly. His lips trembled beneath hers, so she drew back. He took a deep breath and looked away.
"What?" she asked tentatively, "Have I done something wrong?"
"Oh god, Christine, no. Nothing." He leaned down abruptly and captured her lips perfectly with his own. She seemed to melt against him and the darkness around them felt like home. After a few moments, he pulled away gently.
"I feel like I'm dreaming," Erik said, sounding dazed. "Am I dreaming, Christine?"
"Not at all," she said brightly.
He smiled at her and she saw his eyes flash happily in the darkness.
"Come," he said with a chuckle, "Can't be much further now."
