A/N: I really hope you like this. I'm not going to give away anything but I will say it's sad.
Disclaimer: Lyrics: Not mine. Characters: Not mine. Plain and simple.
If I Can't Love Her
It has been two days since the Don Juan incident. Erik had escaped the mob for the most part. Some ran before they found him, and some ran after they saw his face. The more brave of the mob advanced on him. He was able to take them out, but in the process he gained many bruises.
Now, two days later all he could think about was Christine. Day in and day out she was the only thing on his mind. That fateful night replayed itself over and over again in his head. His face, that's what it really was. She didn't stay with him because it was easier to look at Raoul. Every time she looks at Raoul she doesn't see the horror that is Erik's face.
He was sitting on his bench in front of the organ. His hands rested on the keys. He had been sitting there for hours trying to write an opera. Anything to get his mind of Christine. But nothing was working, every thing he played wound up becoming of Christine. Angrily he banged his hand on the keys and stood up. He went to the lake and knelt down dipping his hand in the water.
Suddenly words came to him. This time he didn't fight it, he just let them flow through him.
"And in my twisted face
There's not the slightest trace
Of anything that even hints at kindness."
Erik sang these words looking at his reflection in the calm water. He softly touched his marred cheek as if to prove his point. Then he wrapped his arms around his mangled body as he sang on.
"And from my tortured shape
No comfort, no escape
I see but deep within is utter blindness."
Erik angrily popped up not wanting to look at his face any longer. That was the point of breaking the mirrors. But, alas, it always finds away to remind him he shall never be rid of his distorted features.
"Hopeless
As my dream dies
As the time flies
Love, a lost illusion."
He walked over to the numerous pictures he drew of Christine. He looked and each and every one, His eyes filled with unshed tears. He seemed to be doing that increasingly lately.
"Helpless
Unforgiving
Cold and driven
To this sad conclusion."
He slowly let the drawing he was looking at drop. He walked away from it, unable to look at her face any longer. He walked through his numerous candelabras aimlessly. Even in his own home he felt lost.
"No beauty could move me
No goodness improve me
No power on Earth
If I can't love her."
He sat on his couch in the centre of his lair. His elbows on his knees and his head in his palms. A silent tear traced it's way down his face. He didn't move to wipe it away though. He let it fall freely.
"No passion could reach me
No lesson could teach me
How I could have loved her
And make her love me too
If I can't love her, than who?"
He slowly raised his head as another tear tracked it's way down his face. He thought of his question. Wha could love her? You see, Erik believed, or liked to believe, that every one, even he, has one true love. If Christine was his, then how did Raoul fit into this at all?
"Long ago I should have seen
All the things I could have been
Careless and unthinking
I move onward."
Erik stood up and began walking again. This time he walked to the room she had stayed in. He slowly peered in and looked at the bed. The lovely bed formed as a peacock with satin sheets and velvet drapings. He pictures Christine sleeping peacefully on the crimson sheets. Oh Christine, how he longed to hold her.
"No pain could be deeper
No life could be cheaper
No point anymore
If I can't love her."
He watched as his vision of Christine faded away. When it was totally dissolved he turned his back on the room. He leaned on the door frame, his back still turned, and yet another tear traveled down. But this time it was on his marred cheek and he could barely feel it. He could barely feel anything on that side of his face. He couldn't feel the pain, nor the tear, nor the touch.
"No spirit could lift me
No hope left within me
Hope, I could have loved her
And that she'd set me free."
Yes, set him free of his prison. Set him free of the chains that bound him to the darkness, to the self loathing. But no, he was almost free, he almost took flight, but his wings were clipped once more.
"But it's not to be
If I can't love her
Let the world be done with me!"
He gave a deep and mournful sigh. His life, his world was all over. He had nothing to live for. Everything he knew was gone. Every one he loved was gone. His life was empty. He couldn't stay alive. This torture was almost worse than the torture of the gypsy imprisonment.
He sat down at his desk and picked up a jeweled box. He slowly opened the box and gazed at the dagger that lay inside. Stainless steal it was. Its handle incrusted with rubies.
Gingerly he picked it up. He looked at the blade, then he shifted his gaze to his wrist. Breathing deeply he took the handle and held the blade to his wrist. Instead of slicing, he pushed. He pushed hard. He watched as the crimson red liquid escaped from under his skin.
He lifted the blade and watched as his blood dripped from it. His stomach knotted as he did the same to his other wrist. This time, when he lifted the dagger, he watched as it dripped down his hand and onto his papers.
Just before the darkness truly enveloped him forever he whispered, "I do this for you, Christine. I now know you cannot be truly happy unless I leave you, leave this world. And…that's what I do. I set you free." Then he closed his eyes, never to open them again.
A/N: I told you it would be sad. Please don't kill me. And if you would be so kind as to press on the little submit button I'd be really happy. BTW, the song and title is from Beauty and the Beast, Broadway meets L.A. I hope you liked.