Hey! usual stuff, I don't own Phantom, and For some reason, I really don't like this chapter, maybe because it makes me feel sorry for Raoul, but whatever. I love this part in the movie, but I think there's so much more to the actual story that I could have added to make it better, but that's just being my own worst critic, and for my own sake, don't agree with me. So, the final stage has been set, the scene about to start. I hope you all enjoy!
Don Juan
The final scene had started. The opera had gone without incident for the first two acts. No mess ups, no technical difficulties – perfect as could be. And no sign of the Phantom. Christine had been relieved. She had seen the police and knew their orders. She wanted no one to get hurt – especially Erik – on her account.
She waited backstage for her cue to come out. It was the final scene. Just one more scene before she could leave. And just one last scene for Erik to come. On last scene for something horrible to happen. Christine had the war going on in her mind the entire opera. Erik or Raoul? There was no time to decide. No time to think. Just go out and sing one last song for the Phantom of the Opera. "The Point of No Return."
She had never fully understood the meaning of those words until she had written them down over and over, seeing them in her handwriting, feeling her soul pour off into those words as Erik had done. The song was for her, and her alone. It was full of passion. His passion for her. His obsession with her.
Christine's focus was pulled back to the stage. Poor Aminta. She was being tricked into thinking that this man was someone she knew, when it truly was a stranger who had found her and fell in love with her. It suddenly clicked, and the adrenaline from her sudden revelation rushed through her veins. Erik had deceived her into thinking that he was her father, when he was really just a man that had loved her from the shadows.
Too late to go back now. Her cue had come, and Christine stepped out onto the stage, singing as she waited for something to happen. As she waited for Erik to find her. She longed for and dreaded his appearance. She just couldn't decide which one she felt more of.
He had been patient, waiting for his time to come. The final scene had started, Christine so close to him. Erik waited backstage, in suit, waiting for Piangi to walk backstage. He would be the final one. Then, the time came. Piangi stepped behind the curtain, and Erik pounced, noose in hand, on him. He died with an effortless, swift tug. It was all for Christine. His heart, his murders, his opera, his life, his lies. All for her.
He stepped onto the stage. She would be his now.
"Passarino, go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey," he said to him. He left the stage, leaving him alone with Christine.
The music had started, and he sang to her. The words with such power came from his lips, enveloping her in his passion. He could see it as he walked across the stage. Her crystal blue eyes wide at the sight of him. He knew she had been expecting him, he could see it also. This was his one chance to take her forever. Take her away from the Vicomte and show her what she truly wanted and needed. When their passions were one, who knew what would come of it.
He knew that he had her in his grasp. She had already succumbed to him, coming back to him as she had. She loved him with all of her heart, she just hadn't realized it yet. They had spent so long pretending that it had all been a dream. A cobweb that they could brush away. But they both knew that they wouldn't be able to. It was impossible for her to turn back. It was impossible for Erik to turn back. They had created so much, and he would not let Christine's thinking destroy all that they had built.
It was too late for asking questions. He walked slowly toward her and grabbed her perfect throat gently. "What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?" When he stepped away, he could see that the desire in her eyes was real. Those once innocent eyes were now full of something else. She had felt the music, heard it's messages, and she knew what he meant by every word. Christine knew that it was him behind the mask, and she had finally accepted it.
His music had finally consumed her. She was his. His music had won her over, and she was coming to him. She saw the true man behind the monster, and she was his. His dear Christine. Dear, beautiful Christine.
She could think of nothing else except his music. Erik. He had come for her. As he stood there, across the stage, she could see those eyes. The passion, the obsession, and the love in those blue eyes. Cold as ice, deep as the sea. He alone could give her all that she had ever wanted. She knew now of the raging love that she held for him that had been smothered beneath her thoughts of Raoul. The passion for the music that they both shared. She had decided.
She had finally been brought there to him, and Christine heard everything in his music. She gave into everything she had thought about him. The man that she had loved was real. She could no longer see the mask. He was Erik, the handsome man that had shared in her emptiness, saved her from her solitude and loved when she was at her worst. He was the passionate man that she loved and couldn't wait to love more. She had waited so long to feel love like that, and she wouldn't wait any longer. Erik was hers, and she wouldn't let him be taken away.
They hadn't been brought together to be torn apart. Christine sang those words with renewed passion, her heart pouring out in those words. They were no longer just lyrics set out for her – they were her true desires, what she truly wanted to feel. She wanted to share her passion with another, let someone else into her world of darkness.
Her body felt as if it were burning, the gaze of his eyes burning her to the core, igniting her frozen heart in a way she had never felt before. The flight of stairs spiraling upwards. The escalation of her ignited soul, finally set free from its frozen prison by this man. The man that she wanted to feel against her, never to leave her side.
They drew closer, singing in their wonderful duet, their voices blending into one, sending notes to the audience, who could not perceive the profound meaning behind them.
His hands grabbed her, softly and yet firmly. It was still part of the opera, but it was real. She felt comfortable in his arms, no longer afraid of the Opera Ghost. She felt so safe from the tormenting world in the warm embrace of his arms. She rested against his chest as his fingers moved through her hair gently.
How could she have ever doubted this fierce, passionate, yet so gentle and romantic man?
She wished that the moment could live forever.
She was gone. He had little chance of ever getting her back. It was the punishment he got for going with Meg. He had lost Christine to that ghost. The Phantom of the Opera.
He had been drawn to his shaking knees as they ascended the spiraling flaming stairs. He had never Christine like that. He knew only the girl that was pleased by a simple walk in the sunshine. She looked so much more haunted, much more determined. Raoul was immobilized by what he saw. Christine was going willingly to him, once again. He wanted so much to raise his hand and give the signal to shoot, but he couldn't. He couldn't draw his eyes away from the scene that was unfolding on that stage. That monster had gotten her once again.
As much as he was appalled by seeing those two on the stage, seeing the Phantom being anywhere near Christine, he was also in awe. He could see the peace on Christine's face as she was wrapped in his arms. They looked beautiful together, and Raoul felt the tears fill his eyes. He had to get her back. He had done so much to hurt her that had driven her to him. But he still could not move, entranced by their singing, and horrified by it.
He stood there, staring as they stood on the bridge in front of the silent audience. The only sound in the theater was the breathing and the soft movement of the police as they all moved to see what was happening on the stage.
Then, a soft voice came from the bridge, barely audible, but Raoul could make out the soft words that brought terror to his heart.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude," came from the Phantom's mouth. Those were the words that he had proposed to Christine with. The tears that had filled his eyes fell. The Opera Ghost had stolen Christine, and now, his words. It disgusted him. What would lead a man to go so low?
"Say you want me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too," he sang, louder so everyone could hear. Raoul watched as Christine turned to face him, placing one of her slender hands on his masked face, and the Phantom grabbed the other in his hands, singing desperately to Christine: "Christine, that's all I ask of…"
He never said the last word. The theater was filled with shocked gasps and screams. Christine had unmasked the Phantom of the Opera in front of the multitude. Raoul saw a horrible sight. The face was distorted, grotesque. His eye drooped, his skin was covered in horrid, red bumps, his hair was thin and had fallen out on the right side of his face. Raoul's tears fled, and he watched as he grabbed Christine to him and but a rope hanging in front of the bridge.
Raoul heard booming and more screaming from below. He looked up to see that the grand chandelier of the Opera Populaire was falling. Its crystals that illuminated the rooms now became death shards, raining down upon the audience. The friendly candles were now out to catch fire to anything and anyone they could.
When Raoul looked back at the stage, he saw Christine and the Phantom falling downward into the stage, disappearing. He had ignored his chance to take down the Phantom and get Christine back. "No!" he shouted. He could barely think over the screaming and chaos that went on down below. He needed to get to Christine and the Phantom as fast as he could. If he didn't find her soon, he would lose her forever. But who would know where he hid in the opera house?
Madame Giry. Raoul didn't have time to run back through the stairs, and he wouldn't fight his way through the panicking public. He grabbed one of the drapes beside Box Five and slid down quickly. He ran to the stage, now engulfed in the flames of the chandelier. The heat grew unbearably as he drew closer, but he ignored it, heading for the backstage, where Madame Giry no doubt was, helping people out of the theater.
Raoul ran through the flames that were quickly consuming the wood of the stage, the velvet curtains, the hundreds of seats that filled the theater, quickly turning the entire Opera Populaire into a burning madhouse. He heard the pitiful cries of Carlotta as she knelt over Piangi's dead body. He had been killed by the noose.
"Oh my God!" cried out Carlotta. "Piangi, my love. Mi amore." He could not stop for her. He had to think of Christine.
Raoul followed the fleeing crowd further into the house and saw the classic black dress that Madame Giry always wore. He needed to know where he had taken her. All of their lives were on the line.
"Where did he take her?" he shouted to Madame Giry, grabbing her arm as she ran, stopping her. Giry only stopped for a second, taking in his face before she grabbed his hand and started running beside him.
"Come with me, monsieur, I will take you to him," she said, leading him away. "But, remember, your hand at the level of your eyes!"
"But why?" asked Raoul. He had heard her say that before.
"The Punjab lasso monsieur," she said, her voice rising in despair, "First Buquet, now Piangi, oh my God!"
Meg ran up beside them, and Raoul looked toward her. Meg. "I'll come with you," she said, grabbing Raoul's arm. He wouldn't let her come. He loved Christine, but he couldn't risk Meg getting hurt.
"No, Meg!" he said, ripping away from her grip, leaving her behind. "Stay here!"
"Come with me, monsieur," said Giry. "Do as I say!"
Raoul followed her through the opera house feverishly, fearing what lay ahead for him. He hoped that he could find Christine before it was too late.
