This story begins where ALW's musical ends, but let's pretend Christine didn't go back to return the ring.
Some quotes from ALW, you know which ones. 'this' means the song isn't being sung out loud.
"Hurry, Christine! We're almost to the lake!" Raoul cried, tightening his grip on Christine's small hand. They were free! He had let them go! Joy and disbelief pounded through the young viscount's veins. Perhaps the nightmare was finally coming to an end. . .
Raoul failed to notice that his companion was not sharing in his happiness. She followed him, yes, but silently. The glassy look of disbelief that had appeared in her eyes when she withdrew from her phantom's passionate kiss was gone, but tears were beginning to take its place. Her quivering mouth seemed unable to form words.
The dark subterranean lake loomed before the pair, and Raoul ceased his hurried steps. A boat waited at the dock, just as expected. Ecstatic, Raoul swung Christine into his arms. before laying her gently in the boat, "We're free, my love!"
Christine bit back a sob as Raoul rowed, each stroke gaining strength as his voice soared with promises, "We'll be married at once, and you'll have everything you've ever wanted in a wedding. Then we'll go away, wherever you want. Anywhere! Anywhere far from this horrid building. We'll buy a house, a huge beautiful house with a yard where our children can play." His voice grew softer. "And we'll slowly heal, though I know forgetting is too much to ask. Together, we'll mend."
As the boat finally hit the bank opposite the house, Christine spoke. Her voice was soft and unsteady, every syllable reflecting the pain which tore at her heart: the pain of choosing, "Oh, Raoul. Someday, you will have all of that and more. You will have a grand house and beautiful children and a wife that loves you as a wife should, but not with me. I cannot give you that life. I cannot give you that love."
Raoul turned, stunned, "What are you talking about? You said. . .on the roof. . . after all that we've been through. . ."
"I'm so sorry," Christine whispered, cowering from his eyes.
"You're sorry?" Raoul cried, realizing the meaning of her words. "Sorry? Is that all that you can say after all I've done for you? I suppose you'll want me to get out of the boat now so you can return to that- that monster! That is what you want, isn't it? To go back to him!"
"Don't do this, Raoul, please. . ."
"Say it, Christine! Say that it's true, that you love him! That after all he's done, you're returning to him! I want to hear you say those words!"
Christine's tears were no longer silent. Her body shook with sobs as Raoul rounded on her and seized her shoulders.
"Say it!"
"I-I love him and I wish t-to return to him."
Raoul wailed in anguish. He was no longer capable of anger, no longer able to feel anything but horrible grief. Never before had he been rejected, and what cruel irony it was that the first woman to do so was the one that truly mattered. The one he loved. He sat heavily on the lake's edge, burying his tear-streaked face in his hands.
"Oh, Raoul. . ." Christine whispered. It seemed that all she ever did was cause her loved ones pain, for she did love Raoul. She always had, ever since they were children, but now she realized it was the wrong kind of love. He was her brother, her protector, her dear friend, but he couldn't be her husband. Only one man could fill that place, and she'd betrayed him. Oh, Angel, forgive me. . .
Gently, Christine wrapped her arms around Raoul's strong, solid chest. She held him tightly, knowing that this may be their last embrace. His arms found their way around her waist and pulled her close. He'd lost. Clearly, the woman in his arms was no longer his to love. After a final squeeze, he pulled away.
"Go," He whispered, "Or they'll find him before you do."
"Goodbye, Raoul."
"Goodbye, Christine."
Christine touched Raoul's cheek, "You deserve much more than me." With that, she turned away, quickly boarding the boat. She knew she could not row as swiftly as Raoul had, but she couldn't swim swiftly either, at least not in a wedding gown. She remembered her first journey over the lake, how Erik had propelled them to shore with such strong, even strokes. She would always see his eyes, intense behind the mask, watching her face. His eyes, which always conveyed such raw emotion.
Oh, she could still see the way he had looked at her after their kiss! The disbelief on his face rivaled her own shock. Then the sudden wave of despair as he made his decision, a decision he believed would make her happy.
'Take her - forget me - forget all of this. . .'
How wrong! How wrong to believe that she could ever forget him, the man who'd freed her voice and her soul, the man who'd treasured her like jewel, the man who would kill for her. She shuddered. The man who had killed for her. And she had left him, forsaken him to be torn apart by the mob closing in around his secret domain. She had condemned him to death, if not by the mob's hand then by his own broken heart.
As the boat neared the house, Christine began to hear shouts and crashes. She rowed faster, her arms burning.
'Dear God, please don't let me be too late. Please don't let them find him. Oh, God, please!'
Across the lake, Raoul stood, gazing at the boat fading in the mist. Numbness filled him for now, and he found he could not curse his victorious rival.
"Bravo, Monsieur," He whispered, a curious smile playing across his face. There was nothing left for him at the Opera. He was young; he would heal. Slowly, painfully, he would heal. Perhaps he would find himself a love as incredible as the one between the young soprano and the infamous Opera Ghost; perhaps not. Either way, his time here was over. It was no longer his right to stand in Erik's domain.
He turned and began his journey back to the real world. He sang softly to himself as he walked, "Little Lotte let her mind wander. . ."
