Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.
The Fate of the Heart
...Interlude...
There was no hope left.
All willingness to live had left his withered body, all remaining love for life gone.
He wanted his angel so badly, needed to feel her touch again. He followed her as she blindly stumbled through his maze of dark tunnels. He could see her perfectly, and for the first time cursed his ability to see in the dark. She looked so beautiful... her dark curls cascading down her back and bright eyes burning with unshed tears. She looked so forlorn; he wondered why. She was finally free from him. She ran from him; from what he was, from all he had destroyed and killed in her.
He wondered if he could still follow her with the tears blinding his mismatched eyes. Careful to not alert her of his presence, he watched her in painful silence until she reached the entrance to the Rue Scribe... but something looked different.
He realized belatedly that she only knew of one exit- the one through the mirror. He felt his heart wrench at the memories the mirror brought; the lessons, the frivolous notes of love barely disguised, the first time he brought her down to his lair...
He tore his mind away from the past, and tried to focus on her. She was playing with the spring to trigger the mirror, but could not steady her hands long enough to pull it. Again he wondered why he angel had taken such a fall from grace. It pained him no end to see her like this; he would give his life to take her into his arms and sing her to sleep. But he knew such days were over, that his dreams would never become reality.
She finally triggered the mirror, and he watched her slip back to the world of the living for the last time. As she closed it, he felt the click of his life ending. "Mon ange... je vous ai merai toujours. Mon ange...("My angel... I will always love you. My angel...")," he whispered hoarsely, wishing with all his heart to die.
He could hear her start to lose control. She started to sob uncontrollably, the tears choking her, and he could feel the same tears choking him as well. He fell to the floor in agony, and crawled blindly to the edge of the mirror. On the cold floor he clawed at it silently, wanting with all his broken heart to be near her. He watched her sink to the ground, shaking, and wondered why God hated him so.
Without warning, he heard the cry with the pain of a tortured animal, and he could not tell which side of the mirror had voiced their equal sorrow.