Disclaimer: If I owned the story/characters, Raoul wouldn't exist, Erik wouldn't be ugly, and Christine would've fallen in love with Erik upon first meeting the guy, get the picture?
AN: This idea came to me last night, I was trying to make a happy-ending story, but found out that I couldn't. Erik and Christine are like oil and water; they don't mix, Christine is day, and Erik is night. So, this is what I came up with without wrecking the ending.
Third week. This is the third week since Christine has gone. I sit here, a pitiful shadow, a wisp of smoke. The only joy I have is that Christine has not left the Opera Populaire. She still sings, and the world loves her.
Rumors have arisen that her little fop has been unfaithful. It tears at my heart that someone could love that beautiful angel, yet break her heart. How dare he? I shall show him!
----
Sorrow: That is the only word that can describe my feelings. Raoul has visited the brothels, yes, I know. How I long to return to Erik! But, after I left him, how can I go back? Certain things cannot be undone. I sit by the mirror, weeping.
Meg will come and knock at my door, tell me that it's alright, and help me to dry my tears. But she doesn't know the agony in which I reside, like a stone in a mighty lake.
----
She cries? I thought she was happy, with her toy of a Vicompte. Yet, her tears flow freely. For me? I sit behind the mirror, hoping that she will venture beyond the world of light and come to me. She has touched it, trying to feel for the opening. Does this mean that she misses me? I feel like an empty music box. I have the potential for great things, but alas, I hold no treasure-no treasure of love.
----
Raoul was once again, out carousing. He didn't come home until dawn, smelling of drink.
How could I choose him? I must leave, my soul begs for its companion, the other part of the heart. I only hope that Erik will accept my apologies.
----
The rope; that is my answer. My life cannot go on any longer, I live only in a vain hope that I shall wake up and still have Christine with me. I wish, sorrowfully, that I never had made her choose, for in that final act of desperate love, I shoved her away.
The rope is ready…
----
Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair
Down we plunge through the prisons of my mind…----
His words echo around me, haunting in the idea that I hurt him. The scratch marks on my wrist still shine brightly from that night, that night when all was lost to me. I finally, in an exasperated effort, broke the mirror and climbed through. I seek him out, to make amends for the pain I must have caused him.
The candlelight shines softly on the lake as I pass through the gate to see Erik slip a noose over his own head. Time seems to slow; he jumps, I run. A scream erupts from my throat, full of anguish and fear. Amazingly, I catch him. A stool suffices as support as I untie the chord around his neck.
I feel his pulse. One beat…another…another… A slow, steady rhythm, but… it's getting slower….
----
The rope tightened, and I jumped. Christine appears before me and a shriek fills the air, it must be mine. Blackness consumes my vision.
Slowly, I open my eyes and see a bright light, heaven. Angels' voices echo, sweetly reminiscent of Christine.
Christine. I see her in front of me. Surely, this must be my punishment for my sins. I will live for eternity, yearning for her.
Something warm touches my face, water trickles down my jaw. A soft cloth is pressed to my forehead. A woman's voice reaches my ears.
----
His heartbeat fades. He is gone. His soul, forever resting in peace. My soul, however grieves this. I look around wildly.
A candlestick, this will work…
Epilogue: Madame Giry and some stagehands find the tragedy a few hours later. Respectfully, the two dead lovers are placed together and covered with a sheet. Raoul doesn't even mourn the loss of fiancé. Meg sobs over her friend's death. The entire opera spends a month in mourning for the loss of a genius, and his diva.