Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera nor any of it's characters they belong to their respective authors.

A/N: this is based off of the book, meaning Erik has died. It's Christine's thoughts as she lay dying. One-shot


Christine de Chagny was dying. Her life had slowly withered away for the past year. She grew weaker and weaker. The now Comte de Chagny was heartbroken, and could not bear it.

"Christine, Christine" was all the Comte could choke out.

The Comtess smiled softly. This was the final act, her final performance. Her hand shakily reach up through her blurred vision to touch her husbands cheek. Chocolate eyes disappeared under heavy lids. Her thoughts drifted as waves on the sea.

Raoul, her childhood sweetheart. He had been good to her. A comfort, light personified. Flowers and jewellery had littered her room. What a simple, gentle love. Raoul, her husband, her life. A knight in shining armour. The light to her blooming garden of innocence. She had given her music to spend this existence with him. Raoul, the saviour of her scarf so long ago.

The tranquil colours of pastel that floated in her thoughts darkened to become a deep vivid red, and an enticing blackness. Yes, darkness, another majestic beauty of a different kind. Something her husband would never understand.

The night had a seductive feel, it enveloped, consumed. Flames of desire criss-crossed there way through her sleepless dream. Erik, Phantom, a lonely darkness, an angel, a devil. He loved her, he encompassed her senses. He had let her leave, for he loved her so. Never would he be repaid. Deep, rich, passionate love.

A faint sound floated to her. It was a dark, familiar, haunting melody. She welcomed it, reached for it. Erik...her mouth formed his name, air exiting her lips for the last time. She had been Raoul's in life, she would be Erik's in death.

She lifted her hand towards the black glove that beckoned; to be lead through darkness. A sliver of light glinted off a white mask as she was carried away into eternal night.

Mon ange de musique. Je suis le vĂ´tre.


Finis.

A/N: I don't know if I totally botched that or not but please tell me. Constructional critisism appreciated.