A/N: Hi, everyone. Soo….yeah. I actually wasn't anticipating the reviews I got. Yes, I killed Raoul! And for a story where we were getting earlier review asking for Raoul's death, I was amazed how many people sent in reviews saying 'No, don't kill Raoul!' HOW DO I MAKE YOU PEOPLE HAPPY? You know what? Fuck you all! It's my story! Oh, I'm just kidding, I love you all! Kisses! Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! Story time! Get your skimpy dressing room, grab your rose covered blankies, and your Phantom plushies, and get comfortable on your boat/swan beds! Let's do this! Oh, and there's a nice little cameo by Ewan McGregor as Christian from Moulin Rouge. What can I say? I'm a sucker for Ewan!

GUSTAVE

Mother runs her finger idly along her saucer, chewing her lip. "Mother," I whisper, placing my hand on hers. "You need to cheer up. Papa wouldn't want you to be sulking like this."

"I am not sulking."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not!" she says hotly. "Gustave, why do you have to be so like—" She stops short and looks up.

"Christine Daaé?" The speaker is a young man with dark hair and clear blue eyes.

"Have we met?"

"Once, a few years ago. You were doing that show in Montmartre, and you needed a writer?"

"Because we were short on songs that night! Christian!" Mother breaks into a genuine smile. "Wonderful to see you again! And how does the world's finest bohemian writer?"

Christian shrugs. "Not very well. After about seven years of trying my hand at European publishers, I'm taking my manuscript to America."

"Oh, yes. The one about Satine?" He nods sadly. "I'm sorry…"

"Ah, well, America's the new Bohemia anyway. I might as well follow. Anyway, don't tell me this is your little Gustave. He was what, three when we last met?"

"Four. Gustave, do you remember Christian?"

"No," I say, glad they've finally remembered me. "As you said, I was four." Christian tousles my hair and looks down at my music.

"Budding musician, huh? Impressive."

"Do you mind?"

"Someone's touchy…."

"It's just a phase," Mother says, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, Christian, I'd love to be able to read your finished work at some point."

"That might be possible, but right now, I'm heading to bed."

"It's only four in the afternoon!"

"Best time for sleeping, I find. I do my best work in the wee hours."

"Writers. All the same," Mother mutters. "I swear to God, the number of times this little menace has woken me up playing on his violin…"

"Mother!"

"Well, it's true!"

"Telegram for Christine de Chagny!" a waiter calls. "I have an urgent telegram for Christine de Chagny!"

"Well, you have fun with that. Good night," Christian waves at both of us and disappears into the crowd. Mother accepts the telegram and waves the waiter away, reading it.

"Oh… Oh… Oh, no…" The blood drains from her face and the telegram slips from her hand onto the table.

"Mother, what's wrong? Mother!"

"I… I need to… go back to the room… and sleep…" she mumbles incoherently, standing shakily and starting back towards the room. I slowly pick up the message and read it.

For: Mme. Christine de Chagny:

It is with great sorrow that I must inform you of the death of your husband. We recovered his body from the sea this morning, and it is our best guess that he fell from the deck and was unnoticed until it was too late. You have our greatest condolences.

~ Capt. Jules Legard

He's dead… the man I've been calling my father for my entire life is dead. I stuff the telegram in my pocket and run after Mother. "Mother! Mother!" I grab the door, but it's locked. "Mother, please! Open the door!"

"HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED AND NOW… NOW…" her voice comes out as a muffled scream.

"Mother, at least let me in!"

"YOU CAN GO TO HELL, RAOUL DE CHAGNY, YOU HEAR ME? AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH, YOU CAN GO TO HELL! I STAYED WITH YOU THROUGH EVERYTHING! ALL THOSE YEARS, WASTED? I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" She keeps screaming, but I decide to stop paying attention to her and try to find a way to pick the lock. Unfortunately, I don't have anything useful for that. I sink down against the door in defeat.

ERIK

"Read it again! Read it again!" Sorina begs, grabbing at my arm.

"I told you that was the last one!" I pry her off of me and put the book of fairy tales back on the shelf. "It's nine o' clock, and the two of you need to sleep!"

"But we're not tired!"

"Stela, you're not fooling anyone, I can see you yawning."

"You're no fun!"

"Girls, I'm glad you've picked up English so quickly, but that doesn't change the fact that you are growing and need—"

"He's dead." Sorina says simply. Stela and I both look at her in utter confusion. "It's so cold… and wet…. Can't breath… And he's dead…"

"Who is it? Rina, answer me!" Stela shakes her sister. "Rina, who are you seeing?"

"YOU CAN GO TO HELL, RAOUL DE CHAGNY, YOU HEAR ME? AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH, YOU CAN GO TO HELL!" Sorina screams and falls back into bed, writhing wildly. Stela starts pushing me out the door.

"Erik, she needs to be with me. Just me… we always do this when she gets like this."

"But, Stela—"

"Please." The pitiful look on her face silences me and I head back to the aerie. Gustave's picture smiles at me from the piano, Christine's crucifix draped over it so that the charm dangles on top of the music box. It can't be possible… Sorina couldn't really have seen what she was screaming about… I reach up and finger the crucifix. Was this some kind of sadistic second chance from God? Giving me a chance at happiness by taking the life of another? And Christine… if this is true, what will she do? Even if she does love me, how can anything between us be possible now?

No. It can't be. It's always going to be impossible.

CHRISTINE

"Mother, at least eat something. Please?"

"Gustave, leave me alone." All I want to do is crawl into a hole and die. I don't believe for an instant that his death was an accident. He did it on purpose, and he did it for me… "I'm a despicable human being," I sob into the pillow.

"It's not your fault."

"What do you know?"

"Mother, I'm not trying to hurt you…"

"I said leave me alone! PLEASE!"

"No! You need to hear this! Maybe I'm only eleven, but you need to hear this! You're being selfish and—"

"Selfish! You don't know anything! Everything is ruined! And the baby… God, why…."

"Mother, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing… Nothing…"

"Tell me."

"No…"

"Please?"

"I said no."

"Mother—"

"Gustave, enough."

"Can you at least look at this?" He presses a sheet of music into my hands. "Please?"

"Changing the subject is not going to soften me up." My eyes run along the music for barely a minute. "This is your father's music!"

"Oh, come on! I meant the lyrics!"

"Gustave. I can't. Not right now. Please, darling."

TWO VOICES: ERIK & CHRISTINE

There was a time….Oh, what I would not give to go back to that time…. When I chose wrong. When I turned my back on the person I loved most in favor of selfishness. When I was too foolish to realize what I had. Can I ever reclaim what I lost? Or am I doomed to live with my love just out of my reach?