A/N- You might need to go back to the last chapter and see if you read it
AFTER I rewrote it...then you'll understand the ending of the story. Ok, this
is the moment you have all been waiting for...THE END OF MY STORY! Yes, this
is my final (and longest) chappie! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you very
much for reading my first ever fic! PS- RubyMoon2, I'm sorry I called Raoul
a fop...forgive me? PPS- I was havin' a writer's block on how to end this and
the kid I babysit for helped me through it...thanx bEbEEp!
XIII.
The two men standing in the hallway were emitting so much hatred, so much loathing of each other that Christine Daae could practically feel it through the wall that separated her from them. She put her ear to the mahogany door and felt its coldness. She could not see anything, though she was almost sure that each man had a weapon. No one spoke for a long time, yet it was still not silent. No breeze flew through the opera house, nothing uttered a sound, though, strangely, it wasn't quiet. There was something that made the air echo a soft whisper to be heard by all three of them, giving everything around them a sense of eeriness, a sense of age. The quiet spoke volumes to them, though it did not last for long. Finally, someone spoke, and broke the quiet that was not really quiet at all.
"We will end this, Monsieur, now," Erik spat with all the hatred he could muster. "Christine will be mine."
"Over my dead body," answered Raoul, readying himself for the fight.
"We shall see if we can arrange that," replied Erik, doing the same. Christine was afraid of this. She did not want them to fight, though she knew their love for her, and hatred for each other ran as deep as any sea. Forgetting her feeling of helplessness, she began, again, to bang on the door, begging it to fall.
On the other side of the door, Erik and Raoul heard the banging, though they paid no mind to it, preparing their weapons away from their opponent's eyes. Raoul was filling his silver plated revolver with as many bullets as it would carry, as well as hiding a board in the back of his jacket, having it stick up at his neckline, so that if Erik used the Punjab lasso, it would not have effect upon him. Meanwhile, Erik was practicing his aim, making sure that it would be true, for he was sure that Raoul would not escape his Punjab lasso a second time. Christine was putting all of the might she could in trying to bring the door down, though all it would do is rattle the dust. As she feared, the fight began.
Raoul shot three times at Erik, who dodged them all, his cape billowing menacingly behind him. Erik swung at Raoul with the lasso, who fell to the floor, out of harm's way. From the floor, Raoul fired again at Erik, missing by an inch. Erik punched Raoul squarely in the jaw, making Raoul tumble to the floor again after he had just gotten up. Raoul returned this gesture, though Erik only stepped back instead of falling to the floor. The fight continued, and Christine heard everything, her heart pounding with fear.
I have to stop them, she thought desperately, her attempts at knocking the door down failing. She looked around the room for anything she thought would be helpful. She looked back at the blanket Mama Valerius had knitted for her. Looking at the window behind her bed, she thought that she could climb out of the window and renter the opera house. No, it would take too long, she thought, neglecting her own idea. But it was worth the try, so she moved as quickly as she could, taking the dust covered blanket and hoisting it out of the window, into the cold, black night.
Not even noticing the absence of the loud thumping sounds on the door, the two men persisted in their fight, each blow becoming more difficult as they grew more tired. They dodged and ducked each other's attacks until finally, Raoul fired a bullet as Erik threw the noose towards him, trying to strangle him. The bullet went through the rope, and both ends fell useless to the floor. Raoul pointed the revolver at Erik, thinking of his victory. When he pulled back the trigger, it gave a soft click, though no bullet came out. He had used all of his bullets. The battle was not over, though neither had a weapon. It was then that they noticed a decoration on the wall. It was an iron shield bearing the French flag. The shield had two crossed swords behind it and was surrounded by intricately detailed ivy leaves. Each man had the same idea, and grasped a sword handle, getting ready to fight to the death.
Christine climbed down the side of the wall, praying to God that she did not fall to the snow-covered ground below. She grasped the blanket as hard as she could, slowly making her way down. After a few minutes of climbing, she finally felt her feet touch the snow, and let go of the blanket. She looked around her, finding herself in a courtyard that she had never seen before. In summer, she could see, it was a garden to many beautiful flowers, with the center piece, a fountain that was filled with beautiful flowing water. But she had no time to examine the beauty of the courtyard. She had to get back inside. And fast.
Back inside, the fight continued, the weapons different, the intent the same. Each slice a sword made through the air made a ferocious sound, a menacing effect. Clinks of sword hitting sword would have sent chills down Christine's spine. Erik swung at Raoul, giving him a notch in his face from which blood steadily trickled. Raoul swung back but Erik dodged it with ease, returning the swing, stopped by Raoul's sword, holding the two at bay for a few seconds. Then, with a mighty push, Erik forced Raoul back and they begun again.
Christine was nearing the entrance to the opera house, fearing that one might have overcome the other in her absence. She perused her dash to the battle scene faster and faster, the wind rushing past her, billowing her brown curls behind her. She almost kicked off her shoes, afraid that they were slowing her down too much. She saw the entrance and rushed through it, afraid she might me too late.
The battle continued on, both men shouting, cursing, taunting the other. Their raised voices were heard by Christine who was quickly coming upon them, free from her dressing room in which Erik had imprisoned her. The old floorboards moaned as the fight got harder and more fierce.
Christine was rushing down the staircase, past the stage and down the hallway, listening to the fight. She heard the clinks and realized that it was getting grim. She pushed herself more and more until she came upon the fight, screaming at what she saw.
Both men were still fighting, hardly noticing that Christine was there. They were covered in sweat and blood, still shouting curses at each other. It was only when Christine spoke was her presence noticed.
"Raoul!" she cried, rooting on her beloved. He turned to see her smiling face, though Erik took this as an opportunity. He crept up behind Raoul, his sword positioned to swing.
"Raoul, look out!" she shouted when she saw what Erik was about to do. Raoul turned in just enough time to save his life, though he was knocked to the floor, cradling his bleeding hand. Erik advanced on Christine, throwing her against the brick wall with much force. She cried out in pain and closed her eyes. Erik secured hidden chains around her wrists and ankles to make sure she didn't get in their way. Raoul had gotten up from the ground, his sword at the ready. Erik stood before him, saying, "This ends now." He charged.
Raoul and Erik fought for so long, Christine lost track of who she thought was winning. Erik would give Raoul a nasty cut, then Raoul would make Erik fall to the ground, and it went on and on, back and forth all night and she could hardly bear to watch it. Then, Raoul seemed to be defeated. He fell to his knees and screamed in agony. It seemed that Erik had won.
Erik whispered, "Christine is mine." Raoul looked at him with the most hate he ever could give.
"NOOO!" Raoul screamed, jumping from the floor, pinning Erik against the wall. Raoul was holding his sword in both hands across Erik neck so that it almost touched him. Christine could have sworn that she saw tinge of fear in his golden eyes.
"You will leave, now. You will leave France and never return. And you will never see Christine, ever," spat Raoul, saying it slow. They stood there for a moment, not saying a word. It was completely quiet that time. But Erik would never go. "No," he whispered. And with a powerful force, he pushed Raoul to the ground, the handle of his sword knocking him in the head.
"Raoul?! Raoul?! RAOUL!" screamed Christine in fear. Erik turned his back to her, and removed a loose brick from the wall. "He is unconscious, my dear," he said. From the hole in the wall, he removed a pistol. Turning to her he said, "He will wake shortly. But you will not see him. I no longer have strength enough to fight. If he would awaken, I would surely loose you, and I cannot have that happen."
Christine struggled against her chains, afraid that he would shoot Raoul. "Don't you dare hurt him!" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.
"Oh no, I have other plans for him," he whispered, "Though you, I am afraid, will not see them be put into effect." She did not understand what he meant. What would he do to her?
"What are you talking about?" she asked desperately. She tugged harder at the chains, but they would not give way.
"I shall miss you, Christine Daae," he spoke, raising the pistol against her, "but, if I cannot have you, no one can." Christine could not believe it. He loved her, he would kill for her, but kill her for love? It made no sense. But she didn't have much longer to figure out his madness. "Goodbye," he said. And he pulled the trigger.
Christine awoke with a cold sweat running down her face. She had heard a scream. It was a minute or two before she realized that it had been her own. It was just a dream? It had seemed too real to be a dream. Before she had time to ponder it further, her maid rushed through the door.
"What is amiss, my lady?" she questioned, slightly out of breath.
"Nothing," she said, "though, do you know where Monsieur de Changy is?"
The maid looked at her, concerned. "Ma'am, do you know what day it is?"
"No," she answered, confused.
"It is the one year mark, Ma'am," she said quietly, "Monsieur de Changy is gone." And with this, she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Christine sat it bed, thinking about the word she heard. Gone. She had not heard the word since it was spoken at her father's funeral. Though she hadn't heard it, it seemed to follow her everywhere. It was just a dream. Raoul was not really alive. Erik had died after she left. He had gotten sick with no one but Nadir to care for him. Her father had died before all this had happened. So had Mama Valerius. Everyone was disappearing right before her very eyes. Who would it be next? She almost had no one left for her. The moonlight shifted, making the glass on her mirror shine. It caught her attention. She thought for a minute, and got up from her bed. She went to her door, locking it. She did not even bother closing her window, or writing a note. She went to the dresser and found her broken drawer, wrenching the handle from it and throwing it into the mirror. The mirror broke into many pieces, and she picked up the largest piece she could find.
She stood in the center of her room, ready for what she was about to do. She thought once more about her life, looking back on all she had lost. Everything in her life was gone. And, as she cut herself, she, too, was forever gone.
FIN...
XIII.
The two men standing in the hallway were emitting so much hatred, so much loathing of each other that Christine Daae could practically feel it through the wall that separated her from them. She put her ear to the mahogany door and felt its coldness. She could not see anything, though she was almost sure that each man had a weapon. No one spoke for a long time, yet it was still not silent. No breeze flew through the opera house, nothing uttered a sound, though, strangely, it wasn't quiet. There was something that made the air echo a soft whisper to be heard by all three of them, giving everything around them a sense of eeriness, a sense of age. The quiet spoke volumes to them, though it did not last for long. Finally, someone spoke, and broke the quiet that was not really quiet at all.
"We will end this, Monsieur, now," Erik spat with all the hatred he could muster. "Christine will be mine."
"Over my dead body," answered Raoul, readying himself for the fight.
"We shall see if we can arrange that," replied Erik, doing the same. Christine was afraid of this. She did not want them to fight, though she knew their love for her, and hatred for each other ran as deep as any sea. Forgetting her feeling of helplessness, she began, again, to bang on the door, begging it to fall.
On the other side of the door, Erik and Raoul heard the banging, though they paid no mind to it, preparing their weapons away from their opponent's eyes. Raoul was filling his silver plated revolver with as many bullets as it would carry, as well as hiding a board in the back of his jacket, having it stick up at his neckline, so that if Erik used the Punjab lasso, it would not have effect upon him. Meanwhile, Erik was practicing his aim, making sure that it would be true, for he was sure that Raoul would not escape his Punjab lasso a second time. Christine was putting all of the might she could in trying to bring the door down, though all it would do is rattle the dust. As she feared, the fight began.
Raoul shot three times at Erik, who dodged them all, his cape billowing menacingly behind him. Erik swung at Raoul with the lasso, who fell to the floor, out of harm's way. From the floor, Raoul fired again at Erik, missing by an inch. Erik punched Raoul squarely in the jaw, making Raoul tumble to the floor again after he had just gotten up. Raoul returned this gesture, though Erik only stepped back instead of falling to the floor. The fight continued, and Christine heard everything, her heart pounding with fear.
I have to stop them, she thought desperately, her attempts at knocking the door down failing. She looked around the room for anything she thought would be helpful. She looked back at the blanket Mama Valerius had knitted for her. Looking at the window behind her bed, she thought that she could climb out of the window and renter the opera house. No, it would take too long, she thought, neglecting her own idea. But it was worth the try, so she moved as quickly as she could, taking the dust covered blanket and hoisting it out of the window, into the cold, black night.
Not even noticing the absence of the loud thumping sounds on the door, the two men persisted in their fight, each blow becoming more difficult as they grew more tired. They dodged and ducked each other's attacks until finally, Raoul fired a bullet as Erik threw the noose towards him, trying to strangle him. The bullet went through the rope, and both ends fell useless to the floor. Raoul pointed the revolver at Erik, thinking of his victory. When he pulled back the trigger, it gave a soft click, though no bullet came out. He had used all of his bullets. The battle was not over, though neither had a weapon. It was then that they noticed a decoration on the wall. It was an iron shield bearing the French flag. The shield had two crossed swords behind it and was surrounded by intricately detailed ivy leaves. Each man had the same idea, and grasped a sword handle, getting ready to fight to the death.
Christine climbed down the side of the wall, praying to God that she did not fall to the snow-covered ground below. She grasped the blanket as hard as she could, slowly making her way down. After a few minutes of climbing, she finally felt her feet touch the snow, and let go of the blanket. She looked around her, finding herself in a courtyard that she had never seen before. In summer, she could see, it was a garden to many beautiful flowers, with the center piece, a fountain that was filled with beautiful flowing water. But she had no time to examine the beauty of the courtyard. She had to get back inside. And fast.
Back inside, the fight continued, the weapons different, the intent the same. Each slice a sword made through the air made a ferocious sound, a menacing effect. Clinks of sword hitting sword would have sent chills down Christine's spine. Erik swung at Raoul, giving him a notch in his face from which blood steadily trickled. Raoul swung back but Erik dodged it with ease, returning the swing, stopped by Raoul's sword, holding the two at bay for a few seconds. Then, with a mighty push, Erik forced Raoul back and they begun again.
Christine was nearing the entrance to the opera house, fearing that one might have overcome the other in her absence. She perused her dash to the battle scene faster and faster, the wind rushing past her, billowing her brown curls behind her. She almost kicked off her shoes, afraid that they were slowing her down too much. She saw the entrance and rushed through it, afraid she might me too late.
The battle continued on, both men shouting, cursing, taunting the other. Their raised voices were heard by Christine who was quickly coming upon them, free from her dressing room in which Erik had imprisoned her. The old floorboards moaned as the fight got harder and more fierce.
Christine was rushing down the staircase, past the stage and down the hallway, listening to the fight. She heard the clinks and realized that it was getting grim. She pushed herself more and more until she came upon the fight, screaming at what she saw.
Both men were still fighting, hardly noticing that Christine was there. They were covered in sweat and blood, still shouting curses at each other. It was only when Christine spoke was her presence noticed.
"Raoul!" she cried, rooting on her beloved. He turned to see her smiling face, though Erik took this as an opportunity. He crept up behind Raoul, his sword positioned to swing.
"Raoul, look out!" she shouted when she saw what Erik was about to do. Raoul turned in just enough time to save his life, though he was knocked to the floor, cradling his bleeding hand. Erik advanced on Christine, throwing her against the brick wall with much force. She cried out in pain and closed her eyes. Erik secured hidden chains around her wrists and ankles to make sure she didn't get in their way. Raoul had gotten up from the ground, his sword at the ready. Erik stood before him, saying, "This ends now." He charged.
Raoul and Erik fought for so long, Christine lost track of who she thought was winning. Erik would give Raoul a nasty cut, then Raoul would make Erik fall to the ground, and it went on and on, back and forth all night and she could hardly bear to watch it. Then, Raoul seemed to be defeated. He fell to his knees and screamed in agony. It seemed that Erik had won.
Erik whispered, "Christine is mine." Raoul looked at him with the most hate he ever could give.
"NOOO!" Raoul screamed, jumping from the floor, pinning Erik against the wall. Raoul was holding his sword in both hands across Erik neck so that it almost touched him. Christine could have sworn that she saw tinge of fear in his golden eyes.
"You will leave, now. You will leave France and never return. And you will never see Christine, ever," spat Raoul, saying it slow. They stood there for a moment, not saying a word. It was completely quiet that time. But Erik would never go. "No," he whispered. And with a powerful force, he pushed Raoul to the ground, the handle of his sword knocking him in the head.
"Raoul?! Raoul?! RAOUL!" screamed Christine in fear. Erik turned his back to her, and removed a loose brick from the wall. "He is unconscious, my dear," he said. From the hole in the wall, he removed a pistol. Turning to her he said, "He will wake shortly. But you will not see him. I no longer have strength enough to fight. If he would awaken, I would surely loose you, and I cannot have that happen."
Christine struggled against her chains, afraid that he would shoot Raoul. "Don't you dare hurt him!" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.
"Oh no, I have other plans for him," he whispered, "Though you, I am afraid, will not see them be put into effect." She did not understand what he meant. What would he do to her?
"What are you talking about?" she asked desperately. She tugged harder at the chains, but they would not give way.
"I shall miss you, Christine Daae," he spoke, raising the pistol against her, "but, if I cannot have you, no one can." Christine could not believe it. He loved her, he would kill for her, but kill her for love? It made no sense. But she didn't have much longer to figure out his madness. "Goodbye," he said. And he pulled the trigger.
Christine awoke with a cold sweat running down her face. She had heard a scream. It was a minute or two before she realized that it had been her own. It was just a dream? It had seemed too real to be a dream. Before she had time to ponder it further, her maid rushed through the door.
"What is amiss, my lady?" she questioned, slightly out of breath.
"Nothing," she said, "though, do you know where Monsieur de Changy is?"
The maid looked at her, concerned. "Ma'am, do you know what day it is?"
"No," she answered, confused.
"It is the one year mark, Ma'am," she said quietly, "Monsieur de Changy is gone." And with this, she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Christine sat it bed, thinking about the word she heard. Gone. She had not heard the word since it was spoken at her father's funeral. Though she hadn't heard it, it seemed to follow her everywhere. It was just a dream. Raoul was not really alive. Erik had died after she left. He had gotten sick with no one but Nadir to care for him. Her father had died before all this had happened. So had Mama Valerius. Everyone was disappearing right before her very eyes. Who would it be next? She almost had no one left for her. The moonlight shifted, making the glass on her mirror shine. It caught her attention. She thought for a minute, and got up from her bed. She went to her door, locking it. She did not even bother closing her window, or writing a note. She went to the dresser and found her broken drawer, wrenching the handle from it and throwing it into the mirror. The mirror broke into many pieces, and she picked up the largest piece she could find.
She stood in the center of her room, ready for what she was about to do. She thought once more about her life, looking back on all she had lost. Everything in her life was gone. And, as she cut herself, she, too, was forever gone.
FIN...