Hello one and all. I was planing on making this just a oneshot, but as I have nine pages and still haven't reached the end, I'm splitting it into two parts.

You will notice, that about 90% of the dialogue is Leroux's. That is because I want to keep this as close to the original as possible. There is only one part that is ALW, and that is the lullaby at the very beginning.

I hope that you all enjoy me interpretation of the ending of The Phantom of the Opera.

Disclaimer. I do not own anything ever!


Darkness. That's all I can remember. Darkness and the soft sound of the water pulsating through my ears.

I knew exactly where I was, and I knew how I had ended up there. I had been foolish in thinking that he would not take me. Oh, why had I ever played with the heart of the Demon-Angel? Did I not know what would become of me? Or did I secretly desire it? I do not recall. All I wish to do is sleep. Sleep and dream.

'In sleep I sang to you

In dreams I came…'

A sweet lullaby filled the cold damp air, and it became very difficult to hang on to consciousness.

'This voice which called to you

And spoke your name.

Now you must dream again

For now we hide

The Phantom and his Angel of Song;

Husband and bride'

The cool sweet sound of the voice rushed over me like the breeze of the sea. It reminded me of my home in Sweden. Ah, to be there again.

That was when my mind drifted, and I remember no more for several hours.

The next thing I recall is sitting. Sitting on a bed in the Louis-Philippe style bedroom with the man I once called Angel standing before me. I noticed the bonds around my wrists and ankles and how they had already made my skin raw. I tried to pull free, but to no avail. I looked to Erik with pleading eyes, but he did not seem to notice my presence. He was saying something, but my head pounded so hard and I was moaning so loudly that I cannot bring up a single word he said.

He shouted, though, that much I know. His yelling was making my head ache worse than I thought I could bear and, as a result, tears of pain rolled from my eyes down my cheeks.

That was when he appeared at the hem of me skirt; kissing it and pleading, "Why do you cry? You know it gives me pain to see you cry!"

We both sat there, crying as lost children, he for my love and I for my freedom. Only one of us would get our wish that night.

Suddenly, there was a ringing, and the groveling man before me stood and left, as if answering the door for a friend. I knew that that would not be the case. His mind was on more sinister things I am sure.

Then, I heard it. The glorious sound of my love. I was so sure that I had been dreaming, but it called my name so clean and clear that it had to be real.

"Christine, Christine, it is I, Raoul!"

I was too petrified to speak a single word, not only out of surprise, but of fear that my darling would be discovered.

"But answer me, Christine!…In Heaven's name, if you are alone, answer me!"

My tongue came lose, and I whispered his name softly. I was shocked to find that he had heard me.

Raoul relayed to me that he and the Persian were trapped inside the torture chamber, and I informed them that there was no way I could save them. I was still tied to the posts of the bed. I remember now why I was bound so. I had tried to commit suicide earlier, but was caught in the act. My loving Angel constrained my arms and legs to keep me from committing such a thing again.

The Persian told me that I must convince Erik to let me go free so that I could get the key to the room and set the two captive men free. I knew just how to do this thing.

Erik was returning and I hushed the men. My greatest performance was about to begin.

The ghost entered with his death's head uncovered by his mask, and I could not have helped but let out a cry, for it frightened me so.

"I beg your pardon", the monster said coolly, "for letting you see a face like this! What a state I am in, am I not?" He sighed as he replaced the mask upon his face. Oh, what a euphoric sound could be made with his breaths. Even the pained sigh was like a tremendous and powerful song. It brought sorrow to my heart, but I knew I could not be distracted by the beauty of his voice.

"Why did you cry out, Christine?"

"Because I am in pain, Erik." I still cannot fathom how he believed such a mundane lie.

"I thought I had frightened you."

"Erik, unloose my bonds…Am I not your prisoner?"

"You will try kill yourself again."

"You have given me till eleven o'clock tomorrow evening, Erik." That statement had bought me my freedom. He quickly set me free, rambling on and on about something that I did not understand.

He led me to the music room and then he began to sing an play his organ. I knew then that that would be my sole change to take the key, for when he is in his music there is nothing else in the world, not even myself. I tried very hard not to be overcome by the requiem and grabbed the bag that held the key and hid it in my hand. I had gotten away with it…or so I thought.

Just as the Phantom was reaching to climax of the soulful piece he paused, his finger slipping on the ivory keys. The next words out of his mouth were my death sentence. "What have you done with my bag?" He stood from his place at the organ and took one menacing step forward, his death's head, by the look of his amber eyes, seemed to be on fire. "What have you done with my bag?" His voice was getting higher, harsher. "So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you?"

I knew that if I did not do something that horrid things would have happened to me. So I ran. I ran harder than I ever had before. I tried to lock myself in the bedroom but he was very fast for his old age.

"What are you running away for?" he growled, grabbing for the bag that I clasped in my hand. "Give me back my bag, you will? Don't you know that it is the bag of life and death?"

I kept as far away from him as I could, and I found my body pressed against the wall. "Listen to me, Erik," I cooed to him, "As it is settled that we are to live together…what difference can it make to you?"

"You know there are only two keys in it," said he, fire burning in his amber orbs. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to look at this room which I have never seem and which you have always kept from me…it's a woman's curiosity!" I tried to keep my tone flirtatious, but I couldn't help a slight tremble at the sight of his rage.

He noticed my falter and replied, "I don't like curious women,"

Then why do you keep me I couldn't help but think in his pause.

"And you had better remember the story of BLUE-BEARD and be careful…Come, give me my bag!" He lunged for me again, but I evaded his grasp. "Leave the key alone, will you, you inquisitive thing?" He then pinned me against the wall and wretched the bag from my fingers. His shove along with my pounding head and other sore parts was more then I could bear. He laughed at me as I cried out in pain.

I heard a great shout from the other room. It was Raoul! I beseeched him hush! in my mind, but he had heard.

"Why, what's that? Did you hear, Christine?"

"No, no," I denied, trying to distract him. "I heard nothing."

"I thought I heard a cry." He turned toward the wall, as if he could see right through it.

"A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to give a cry, in this house?…I cried out, because you hurt me! I heard nothing.'

He glanced my way, seeming remorseful at first, but his continence changed as his thought began it turn. "I don't like the way you said that!…You're trembling…You're quite excited…" I shook my head in denial. "You're lying!…That was a cry, there was a cry!…There is some one in the torture-chamber!…Ah, I understand now!"

"There's no one there, Erik!" I beseeched him.

He had not heard. "I understand!"

"No one!"

He still ignored my cries. "The man you want to marry perhaps!"

"I don't want to marry anybody, you know that I don't."

This caught his attention. He chuckled at me again, a laugh laced with poison. "Well, it won't take long to find out. Christine, my love," he said approaching me, "we need not open the door to see what is happening in the torture-chamber. Would you like to see? Would you like to see?" He held out for my hand, but I denied him once more. I did not dare touch him. "Look here! If there is some one, if there is really some one there, you will see the invisible window light up at the top, near the ceiling." He pointed upwards and I saw what he was describing. How had I not seen this before? "We need only draw the black curtain and put out the light in here. There, that's it...Let's put out the light! You're not afraid of the dark, when you're with your little husband!" At that he blew out the soul oil lamp that lit the room, and all was darkness.

"No!...I'm frightened!...I tell you, I'm afraid of the dark!" I cried out in anguish, though it wasn't the darkness that frightened me so. "... I don't care about that room now.…You're always frightening me, like a child, with your torture-chamber!...And so I became inquisitive. ...But I don't care about it now...not a bit...not a bit!" I tried to deter him. To get him to forget about the room and what lay beyond. And then I saw it, a light brimming from around the curtains edge. I was horrorstruck.

"I told you there was some one! Do you see the window now? The lighted window, right up there? The man behind the wall can't see it!" He made his way to a closet and pulled out a series of steps. "But you shall go up the folding steps: that is what they are there for!...You have often asked me to tell you; and now you know!...They are there to give a peep into the torture-chamber ...you inquisitive little thing!" He held his hand out once more.

I coiled away, keeping my arms crossed across my chest. "What tortures?...Who is being tortured?...Erik, Erik, say you are only trying to frighten me!...Say it, if you love me, Erik!...There are no tortures, are there?" I was so scared for my lover's fate. What shall become of him now? What could happen in to room adjacent to mine?

"Go and look in the little window, dear!"

I could feel myself swooning again. The world was spinning, and I stabilized myself against the wall. I had to keep my wits. I needed to save them from Erik and what ever tortures the room ensued.

"Go and peep through the little window!" He was growing impatient with me. "Tell me what it looks like!" He pushed the steps beneath the window and called to me again, "Up with you!...No!...No, I will go up myself, dear!"

That statement brought me back to my senses. I tried to be as clam as possible, so as not to startle him. "Oh, very well, I will go up." As I approached the steps grabbed hold of my elbow to help me up. I wretched it away shouting, "Let me go!"

He seemed hurt by my distance, but I didn't care. Who was he to think he could touch me? After putting me through so much turmoil? I didn't think so. "Oh, my darling, my darling!...How sweet of you!...How nice of you to save me the exertion at my age!...Tell me what he looks like!"

I glanced into the window and shouted down, "There's no one there, dear!"

"No one?…Are you sure there is no one?" He seemed skeptical of my response. I had to convince him.

"Why of course not…" I looked again, really looked. And I saw my Raoul and his companion. They could not see me, but I knew that they could hear. Oh, how I pleaded with God to let him see my face, just one last time, before this beast took me and hid me from the world forever. I began to feel faint again and a staggered a little on the steps.

"Well, that's all right!...What's the matter, Christine? You're not going to faint, are you...as there is no one there?…Here...come down..." He reached to help me from the steps, but I helped myself. I slowly made my way to a bench and sat myself down. "There!...Pull yourself together...as there is no one there!...But how do you like the landscape?"

"Oh, very much!" I fanned myself as we conversed. I felt heated and tired, but I needed to keep up my charade.

He brought the basin of water to me, and I dipped a rag in the cool water. After placing it on my flushed face I felt myself clamming. "There, that's better!...You're better now, are you not?... That's all right, you're better!...No excitement!...And what a funny house, isn't it, with landscapes like that in it?" Erik kneeled at my feet and fawned over me as much as I would let him. I still didn't want his cold, dead skin grazing mine.

"Yes, it's like the Musee Grevin.…" I recalled, thinking about the wax museum that I had visited once as a child. "But, say, Erik...there are no tortures in there!...What a fright you gave me!"

"Why…" he asked suspiciously, "as there is no one there?"

I had to distract him. Keep him from thinking about what could be in that room besides the architecture. I tried flattery again. "Did you design that room? It's very handsome. You're a great artist, Erik."

He became flustered at my words, and responded, "Yes, a great artist, in my own line."

That was better. Now, I had to get information from him without him knowing that I was. I needed Raoul to know exactly what could happen to him in there if he wasn't careful. "But tell me, Erik, why did you call that room the torture-chamber?"

"Oh, it's very simple. First of all, what did you see?"

I thought that that was a very odd question. Did he not know what was in the room that he built? "I saw a forest."

"And what's in a forest?"

Oh, this was silly! "Trees."

"And what is in a tree?"

My God, did this man really think me this dense? "Birds."

"Did you see any birds?"

I was growing very impatient with these questions. Why all this running around? "No, I did not see any birds."

"Well, what did you see? Think! You saw branches And what are the branches?" asked he as he stood and began pacing around the room. "There's a gibbet! That is why I call my wood the torture-chamber!...You see, it's all a joke. I never express myself like other people. But I am very tired of it!" And then he snapped. Ranting and raving about his tortures. "...I'm sick and tired of having a forest and a torture-chamber in my house and of living like a mountebank, in a house with a false bottom!...I'm tired of it! I want to have a nice, quiet flat, with ordinary doors and windows and a wife inside it, like anybody else! A wife whom I could love and take out on Sundays and keep amused on week-days…" Erik strode toward me, and I recoiled again. He seemed downtrodden at my response, and so he tried to distract me. "Here, shall I show you some card-tricks? That will help us to pass a few minutes, while waiting for eleven o'clock to-morrow evening.…" At this I glanced at the clock sitting on the mantle. My eyes had come to adjust to the darkness, but it was still hard to see the exact time. Did I really have to wait that long to be released? Either into his arms or my death bed? 'My dear little Christine!...Are you listening to me?...Tell me you love me!" I didn't respond looking to my hands that were crossed upon my lap. "No, you don't love me...but no matter, you will!...Once, you could not look at my mask because you knew what was behind. ...And now you don't mind looking at it and you forget what is behind!...One can get used to everything...if one wishes." He was wrong about that. How could anyone ever forget or get used to what lay beyond his mask? "...Plenty of young people who did not care for each other before marriage have adored each other since! Oh, I don't know what I am talking about! But you would have lots of fun with me. For instance, I am the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived, I am the first ventriloquist in the world!" I laughed nervously. I did not like ventriloquism. It frightened me how one could throw their voice and have end up wherever they please. "...You're laughing... Perhaps you don't believe me? Listen."

He opened his mouth to begin his trick, but I had stop him. A voice in my head was telling me that the light in the window needed to be put out. "Put out the light in the little window!...Erik, do put out the light in the little window!"

He ignored my pleas. "Here, I raise my mask a little...Oh, only a little!... You see my lips, such lips as I have? They're not moving!...My mouth is closed-such mouth as I have-and yet you hear my voice." It was true. His lips were still and yet his voice was every where in the darkened room. "...Where will you have it? In your left ear?" I turned toward the sound, but nothing was there." "In your right ear?" I turned again, and still nothing. I was becoming freighted. "In the table? In those little ebony boxes on the mantelpiece?... Listen, dear, it's in the little box on the right of the mantelpiece: what does it say? `Shall I turn the scorpion?'...And now, crack! What does it say in the little box on the left? `Shall I turn the grasshopper?'...And now, crack! Here it is in the little leather bag...What does it say? `I am the little bag of life and death!'...And now, crack! It is in Carlotta's throat, in Carlotta's golden throat, in Carlotta's crystal throat, as I live! What does it say? It says, `It's I, Mr. Toad, it's I singing! I feel without alarm-co-ack-with its melody enwind me-co-ack!'" So, that was how it had happened. It was he who maid the diva's voice croak! What a clever trick this was. "... And now, crack! It is on a chair in the ghost's box and it says, `Madame Carlotta is singing to-night to bring the chandelier down!' ...And now, crack! Aha! Where is Erik's voice now? Listen, Christine, darling! Listen! It is behind the door of the torture-chamber! Listen! It's myself in the torture-chamber! And what do I say? I say, `Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!"

Through he spiel I began to sweat. Was it just me, or was the room actually getting hotter? "Erik! Erik! You tire me with your voice. Don't go on, Erik! Isn't it very hot here?"

"Oh, yes, the heat is unendurable!" said he, cackling still.

"But what does this mean?...The wall is really getting quite hot!" I stood and walked toward the heat, and placed my hand on the wall. I quickly took it back as a reaction to the temperature "...The wall is burning!"

"I'll tell you, Christine, dear: it is because of the forest next door."

He had confused me with this. "Well, what has that to do with it? The forest?"

"Why, didn't you see that it was an African forest?" He smiled, then chuckled, then let out the most furious laugh I have ever heard. He was mad! And then I realized, that he knew. He knew and he had known all along!

Oh God! My Raoul! My love! What was going to happen to him? He would burn! He would die of exhaustion! And there was nothing that I could do about it! The room span again, and this time I didn't try to stop it. My mind needed time to process. And so, I gave in to sweet nothingness.


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