A/N: This is my theory; if you watch the 2004 movie the instrumental for "Beneath a Moonless Sky" plays underneath the scene where Christine leaves to go to her father's grave. My theory is that, well you'll have to read to understand.
This was the day before her marriage, the last day she would ever bare her father's surname. The last part of her father she had possessed would be gone by this time tomorrow. By this time tomorrow she would truly be Raoul's wife, the Countess de Chagny.
She had begged Raoul to let her leave his manor to visit her father's grave. He had wanted to come but she protested that she needed to be alone with her father's memory. Raoul reminded her of what had befallen her the last time she had ventured to his grave alone.
"The Phantom is no more." Christine reminded him, trying to conceal the sad tone in her voice. Those were words that hurt as much as saying that her father was dead.
Christine had been firm and insistent that Raoul let her leave his watchful eyes for a few hours so that she could talk to her father's spirit in peace. She'd asked the carriage driver to drive the carriage away from the cemetery so that she could truly be alone.
It was a beautiful night, the air was crisp and the night was still. There were no stars shining in the sky, and not even a sliver of a moon to light the world below. Christine made her way through the familiar graveyard, a small flickering flame with in her lantern lighting her way. She longed to hear her father playing the violin again, to feel like a child again.
But there was only silence in her wake.
"Father," She began quietly as she stared up at the looming mausoleum. "I wish you could be there tomorrow. I'm getting married. Of course you will be there in spirit and in my mind. But I only wish you could deliver me to my bridegroom."
Christine knelt down, lying flowers in front of his grave. "Your favourite and my favourite, red roses." She quickly wiped away the tear that was trailing down her cheek, rising to her feet. "Oh, father. What am I doing?" Her voice cracked as she felt a sob escape her lips.
"Christine."
She wheeled around at her name, searching the empty darkness for the figure who spoke her name. "Show yourself."
"Christine," Her eyes fluttered closed as the name was closer to her. That enchanting voice was here, she thought he was gone. She knew he was gone.
"My angel." Tears stained her voice as she felt him beside her. "The mob did not kill you?"
He laughed coldly, "How can they kill what they cannot catch?"
"I knew you would be here," She admitted, reaching towards where she knew he was. It was too dark to see him, but she sensed him even so. "I knew it in my heart."
"Your heart always knows." He replied, taking her hand in his. He was not shy to touch her in the darkness. His darkness.
Where was the fear? Where was the terror? Did the night really change how you could feel about someone? "I had to come to say good-bye to my father." Christine bit her lip, holding his hand tighter in her grasp. "And to you."
"Christine," His voice was thick as he spoke her name, heavy with desire. "My sweet Christine."
"Mon ange," She muttered turning to press her hand against his cheek. She could not see the disfigurement but her vivid memory filled in the blanks as her fingers gently touched the ruined skin.
His mouth fell open, relishing in the sweet touch of her fingers against the untouched abomination of his face. He could hold back no longer. His hand reached forwards to brush away her hair from her neck. His lips replaced his fingers as he kissed along her thumping vein.
"Mon ange," She gasped into his ear as her hands fumbled to touch his chest through the layers of material. She needed him, it had always been him.
"Christine," He groaned as her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the band of his trousers. His sweet angelic Christine had turned into a lust filled woman so quickly. It was a wonder what the darkness could to do you. "My Christine," He growled possessively into her ear as he nipped at the tender lobe.
"I need you." She hissed as she worked with the buttons of his shirt and tearing it from his shoulders. Christine did not know what was overcoming her, but she didn't want it to stop. She loved the fire that was consuming her like the lyrics of Don Juan Triumphant.
His hands skimmed along her body, paying careful attention to her breasts. His fingers teased the skin through her cotton dress, finally paying homage to an instrument he'd always longed to play.
Christine pulled away, "Mon ange," She whispered again as she leaned up to press her lips into his. The passionate play had just begun as her tongue teased his and he teased hers. This was the passionate potential they had always held. Raoul never made her feel unhinged and wild, only her angel, her tutor, her lover.
This was the music of the night.
"Christine," He hissed as she felt her wandering hand brush against his aching bulge. He pulled at the laces of her dress, pushing it from her shoulders and letting it drop to the graveyard ground. He relished in the sweet little moan she made against his lips.
His hands skimmed across her soft skin, he yearned to be able to see it but thanked the God above that she could not see his scarred skin or hideous face. His fingers skimmed across skin that she never knew could make her feel so devious. Skin that was reserved for her husband.
Her wedding night was tomorrow. With Raoul.
Raoul be damned, tonight she would be with the man she yearned to be with like this. Her phantom.
"Take me." She rasped, unsure of her voice as he stroked the sensitive skin again.
With careful movements he swept her into his arms and laid her back against the ground. Had she even thought that she was about to lose herself to a murderous monster on the grave of her beloved father on the eve of her wedding? He wasn't going to be the one to remind her. She was finally giving herself to him, a moment he had longed for since the moment he laid eyes on the gawkish chorus girl.
He took her, breaking through the flimsy barrier that had been reserved for Raoul. He took pleasure in knowing he had taken that from the fop. He took pleasure in every aspect of his angelic creature that satisfied his darkest urges.
Again and again they let their lust take them to the end of the world and back. Claiming each other as their own. Letting the music of their sighs, their moans, their groans, their hushed encouragements, and silent prayers fill their ears.
But he couldn't bear to stay, to force her to see the creature she had given her maidenhood to when she had a handsome Count waiting to give her the life he never could dream of giving her. He rose silently, gathering his clothes and dressing. The sun was rising slowly in the sky, the predawn light shining across the earth. He stared down at Christine's sleeping form.
"Good-bye, my love." He whispered as vanished from the cemetery, leaving her with more than just a broken heart.
A/N: Do you approve that Christine made love to her strange angel on the grave of her father? Hence why the song is the same as the song when she visited his grave before. I hope you could catch the lyrics thrown in. It seems poetic that she name their son "Gustave" since he was conceived atop his namesake's grave.