A/N: I'm writing my thesis and I am bored. This is the result. So there.
Takes place during the movie, after the chandelier crash at the end of Point of No Return.
Alternative Ending
He was dragging her through the dark, dank corridors while singing. Deliriously singing. Yes, the man had a beautiful voice, and a beautiful body, and pretty hair and gorgeous eyes, but Christine could not allow herself to be attracted to him at all in this moment. First of all, his face… was so…very…
Oh, who was she kidding. It was like a sunburn and a rash. It wasn't even that bad. Had he never tried putting cream on it? Honestly, the man must be suffering from some twisted Adonis complex. She was just about to interrupt his ranting and raving and ask him if he wanted to borrow some of her cold cream when something he said caught her attention.
"Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?"
Christine didn't recall asking him that. Maybe he was hearing things. The place did echo a lot. Maybe he heard himself and thought that was her?
"No kind words from anyone! No compassion anywhere! Christine, why? Why!"
He shook her this time, and Christine felt that she should probably answer him. He had addressed her personally this time; there really was no mistaking it.
"Maybe it was the whole murder thing," she said, rather pleased at being able to give him an answer.
That seemed to give him pause. "Pardon?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Well, you did murder a lot of people. And you blackmailed the managers. You terrorized the ballet corps. You kidnapped me before and look, here you are doing it again. Um, there was also that property damage with the chandelier. I think that probably killed some more people. And you may or may not be a drug addict."
"Oh," said the Phantom. "You mean it wasn't the…?" he made a gesture towards the rash/sunburn thing.
"Nope. Not at all."
"I see," he said. "That actually explains a lot."
They stood around for a bit longer. Christine played with her dress and the Phantom shifted his weight back and forth. Christine coughed.
"Well," he said eventually. "I suppose you really ought to get going. It's getting kind of late."
"Quite right," said Christine. "I just keep making right turns until I get to the Rue Scribe, right?"
"Yes," he said, giving her a small wave before walking in the direction of his boat. "Come round for tea sometime, my dear."
And so Christine went back up to the world of the light, thinking that just being honest with people is sometimes the best thing you can do for them.