Author's Pre-Story Note: Before you read this story, I would like to explain exactly where we are. This story starts the moment that the Phantom takes Piangi's place for Don Juan Triumphant. Thus, everything that happened in the movie before the performance of his opera is according to canon, but the part that's written is closer to how I wished the movie/story/play would end.
"Master?"
"Passarino. Go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey."
Christine listened for her cue as Piangi returned, singing the part of Don Juan. She was so nervous about the whole plan that she didn't notice the change in actors, at least until he started to sing again.
"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now, has been silent. Silent." She abruptly realized that Piangi was not the man singing opposite her. Rather, it was him. The Phantom of the Opera. He noticed that she saw him and held his finger to his lips as he repeated 'Silent' as if afraid she would do something to stop the performance. The fact that he was here onstage didn't help her mind much. She was feeling very conflicted about the situation between herself, him and Raoul. The problem was his voice. His voice sounded like . . . like . . . she couldn't think straight with him singing to her, the sensuality he evoked bringing an abrupt halt to her primary thought processes. All she could focus on now was his voice and the music. But wait, there was something she was supposed to do. What was it? Her mind couldn't grasp it at the time.
"I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge." She shut her eyes in an attempt to resist the effect his voice was having on her.
"In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. You've decided. Decided." It was as though he was reading her mind when he wrote that opera. Ever since she first laid eyes upon him, she wished she had the courage to succumb to him, to give in to the passion permeating her soul. The problem was that this feeling, this . . . wantonness, was a sin. She was not supposed to feel this way, according to the Church.
"Past the point of no return, no backward glances. Our games of make-believe are at an end." As he sang, she rose from her crouch on the floor to start the choreography—also, she couldn't sing kneeling like that. She also crushed the voice in her head telling her to resist his voice. She didn't have to, she was playing a servant girl being seduced in an opera! The audience expected her reactions to be less proper.
"Past all thought of 'if' or 'when.' No use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend." He circled around her as he sang, and she followed him with her eyes.
"What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door?" As he sang, he darted forward to grasp her from behind, his left hand at her waist, his right hand on her neck. He continued to sing, his voice ringing in her ears. Her thighs growing wet at the passion and raw sensuality in his voice and at the power of his presence so close to her.
"What sweet seduction lies before us?" He moved away from her, his hands coming off her body to move down her right arm, bringing her hand close to his mouth, but he continued to sing instead of kissing it. Her eyes filled with the desire she felt for him as she looked at him.
"Past the point of no return. The final threshold." He continued to hold onto her hand, his sensuous touch eliciting more desire from her mind and body.
"What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return." He released her hand, and she stepped away from him, following the choreography that he'd written. Nervously, she raised the left strap on her dress back to her shoulder. As he stopped singing, coming to her cue, she shook her head slightly, attempting to clear it, so she could run through the different options in her mind.
"You have brought me to that moment when words run dry. To that moment when speech disappears into silence. Silence." She looked up and made eye contact with Raoul, sitting in box 5, the Phantom's favorite box seat. The eye contact was the signal to go through with his part of the plan, signaling the gendarmes. He turned to look across the auditorium and nodded perceptibly to the managers, and signaled the officer standing with him to get ready. Now all he had to do was wait for her final signal to spring the trap. However, his movements were too obvious. If the Phantom was watching, he'd know what was going on. Inwardly she cursed Raoul and the managers for being so unsubtle.
"I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent." She turned to look at the Phantom, whose eyes were on box 5. They came back to her face as she sang, and she didn't think that he knew that she was in on it, just Raoul and the managers.
"Now I am here with you. No second thoughts. I've decided. Decided." Except, she hadn't. There was something niggling the back of her mind, something she couldn't place or recall at this moment, but she knew that it was inherent in this conflict between the Phantom and Raoul. She felt a great weight sink into her soul as she recalled that Raoul and the gendarmes wouldn't act until she pulled off the Phantom's mask. It was all up to her now.
"Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun." She turned towards the staircase at stage center left that led up to the burning bridge set piece. He turned to do the same at the staircase at stage center right. Putting as much passion into her own voice as she could to drown out the confusion and misery she felt, she continued to sing.
"Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question. How long should we two wait before we're one?" She paused about halfway up the staircase to take another look at the Phantom as he climbed in perfect unison with her. Unsure of her own actions, she leaned towards him seductively, trying to keep his attention centered on her and not on the police in the wings.
"When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?" She came to the final step and onto the bridge at the same time he did as she finished her solo part of the aria. They approached each other slowly as they began the duet, their voices rising in perfect unison.
"Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn." They came into contact with each other, their hands each gripping the other's waist. He shifted his grip to her wrists and whirled her in his arms to bring her back into contact with his front as they continued to sing. He placed his hands over hers on her stomach and moved them about on her body, leaving their left hands at her waist and bringing their right hands up her body, over her breasts—where the brief contact with his fingers made her nipples harden and tingle in anticipation—and to her neck as they finished the aria.
"We've passed the point of no return." They certainly had. Since he'd come out onstage in Piangi's place, there was no getting out of what happened next, and she was forced to unmask him due to the influence that the managers and La Carlotta had over her life at this point. He released her hands and began to sing a tune that she didn't even know that he knew, but she could guess where he'd heard it. He'd been up there on the rooftop with her and Raoul after Buquet's death. He brought his right hand up to her temple and his left up to her cheek as he sang softly into her ear.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you." As he sang to her, he caressed her hair, face, and neck softly and she relaxed into his arms. He then brought his arms down to grip hers as he continued to sing. He turned her slowly so he could look at her and take her right hand in both of his.
"Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of—" As he continued to sing, he released her hand to cup her face in both of his. She placed her right hand on the side of his face and softly caressed his cheek with her thumb, her distress pouring into her face from behind the emotional mask she wore to convince him. She knew the love of two men. One was a murderer, a deceiver, a liar, and a trickster. This same man was a genius, a composer, and the reason she could sing as well as she could. The other man was an aristocrat, a friend of hers since childhood, and made her feel safe. She loved both of them, but could only be with one. She still couldn't make a decision, so she went along with the plan and before he could say the word 'you,' she ripped his mask and wig off to expose his true self to the world. Members of the cast, the stage crew, and the audience screamed, but the Phantom seemed oblivious to them. He looked only at her, and she mouthed to him "I'm sorry." He turned away from her face and looked up at the ceiling, then down into the audience, noticing the police moving through the crowd down their. He wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her tight to him as his right hand disappeared into his coat and whipped back out, a silver blade flashing in the lamplight as he cut one of the ropes tied to the bridge. He then kicked at a lever built into the bridge and the area they were standing on opened up underneath them and they fell through the hole in the stage beneath where the paper flames were dancing.
They landed on a pile of old mattresses and costumes that were conveniently placed beneath the hole. He released his hold around her body, but gripped her right wrist in his left hand, pulling her along with him as he traveled through the passages to get to his lair. Thankfully, he was silent, allowing her to think about her actions and those little thoughts that were bothering her. As he dragged her along, taking complete control over the situation, and over her, she felt a warmth in her stomach and her thigh muscles tightened. By the time they reached his lair, her costume from Don Juan was stained and torn in several places, so he handed her the wedding dress off the manikin and told her to go change, but not before gripping her shoulders and looking in her eyes. "Why?" he asked, his voice filled with pain. He shook her. "Why?" She looked away from his anguished face. She couldn't answer him. She left to go change.
When she came back, he was looking at something in his hands, though he had his back to her so she couldn't see what it was. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke to him. "Why? You want to know why? I want to know why. I believe I have a right to. Why did you deceive me for eight years? Why did you pretend to be an angel to me instead of revealing yourself as a man? Why did you kill Buquet?"
He turned to look at her, anger and shame weighing equally in his eyes and face. Finally he looked back down at the ground and nodded slightly. "Very well, Christine, I'll tell you." She sat down on the bench to his organ as he spoke. "My mother hated my face. I was born like this," he gestured to his marred cheek, "and she made me wear a mask from the day I was born. When I was eight, I ran away from home and was picked up by some gypsies. I became one of their star attractions. They called me 'The Devil's Child' and beat me and showed my face to the crowd. I was kept in a cage for four years before the tribe came to Paris. While here, some ballerinas from the Opera Populaire came to visit. A group of about ten came into my tent. Nine of them went along with the rest of the crowd, laughing at my plight and shrinking away at my face. One, though, did not. She merely looked at me, not with pity, but with sorrow in her eyes. After the time was up and my keeper allowed me to put my mask back on, she left slowly. She saw me grab a rope and strangler my keeper as he knelt in the dirt to pick up the coins tossed there. Using his keys, I opened the door to the cage, and she led me through the streets of Paris to an underground entrance to the opera house. I believe you know her, Christine. She taught you ballet. It was she that suggested that I teach you. It was not her idea that I pretend to be an angel, just that I teach you. She told me about your father and how you had no one. Remembering my own childhood and my time among the gypsies, I decided to pretend to be your angel of music because of the way other children had reacted to me. My relationship with you kept me from some of my more violent rages when I lost my temper. I will not, however, apologize for Buquet. Until tonight, only three people at this opera house had seen my face. You, Madame Giry, and her daughter."
"Meg knows about you?" Christine was surprised.
"Yes, but not as the man pretending to be your angel. You know how she says, whenever something mysterious happens, 'Gasp. He's here, the Phantom of the Opera.'? Well, that's due to the fact that I'm a father-figure to her."
"What?" Christine's voice was incredulous.
"Yes. Antoinette was having trouble during the birth, so I sang softly to her, and it calmed her down. She couldn't come up with a name, so I did. When her husband was killed by bandits when Meg was two, I helped her raise the girl. Meg never saw me with my mask on, just with it off. She was never frightened of my face, but she'd seen it since before she could walk. You had not, so I didn't think to show you. As to why I killed Buquet, just after I returned you to the opera house proper after the gala, I found Meg down in the chapel, crying. Buquet had tried to rape her. I think of her as a daughter, so I killed him." Christine's face fell at his explanation about Buquet.
"I—I never knew that happened. She never told me."
"As she wouldn't because it was too traumatic. But after your little song on the roof with the fop, she found me up there and kissed my cheek, thanking me for what I did."
"So you were up there."
"Yes. I was trying to put the whole matter into perspective in my mind, for I had planned on telling you, but what happened between the two of you—" he stopped talking abruptly, cocking his head to one side. He pressed his finger to his lips and began to speak again. "Just one moment, my dear Christine, I think we have a guest." Then she heard it too, splashing, as of someone wading in the water. Who was this guest? She looked at the gate as the third person approached. It was Raoul! "Sir," the Phantom was speaking again, "this is indeed an unparalleled delight. I had rather hoped that you would come. And now, my wish comes true. You have truly made my night."
Raoul shouted back to the Phantom, reaching through the bars of the gate, "Free her, you bastard! Let her go! Have you no pity, no compassion?"
"Compassion? You want to know if I have compassion, monsieur? The world showed no compassion to me!"
"Let me see her, please, sir."
The Phantom walked over to a lever built into a rock ledge and pulled it. The gate opened and Raoul entered. The Phantom walked towards Raoul as the gate continued to open. He was speaking again. "Monsieur, I bid you welcome. Did you think that I would harm her? How touching. But why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" As he spoke, the gate reached its pinnacle and closed again. At the thundering noise of the gate closing, Raoul turned to look, which is when the Phantom acted. He reached down into the water and pulled out a length of rope with a knot at one end. He threw this rope over Raoul's shoulder as he moved closer to him, drawing the rope tighter as the Phantom tied Raoul to the gate. He took one of Raoul's hands and pulled it up so the fist was parallel with Raoul's eyes and tied it a good foot away from Raoul's face. "Haven't you heard, fop? Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" Christine's eyes widened in horror at the Phantom's actions. He turned back to her and to his desk. He walked back to the shore and picked up another coil of rope from the desk. He turned back to Raoul, uncoiling the rope as he went, revealing a noose from within the coils. He placed this noose around Raoul's neck and ran it through the gate above him. He then pulled on it harshly, tightening the noose. He turned back to Christine. "What do you think, my dear? Should I kill him or let him go. Don't think I haven't forgotten the fact that he orchestrated that entire elaborate trap within my own opera. Also, if it weren't for you, I think he'd have killed me in the cemetery. So, since you saved my life in the cemetery, I'll make you a deal: it's your choice. If you wish me to kill him, then you may leave. Tell me you wish to go, and I'll pull on this rope right now and break his neck. If you wish him to live, then you must stay here with me." He smirked at her and she froze. He still hadn't forgiven her for what happened on the rooftop and what happened during the performance of Don Juan.
She sank back down on the organ bench as she thought frantically. Yes, the Phantom had deceived her and tricked her, but he'd never really lied to her. He called himself 'her' angel of music, and stated that he felt it would be impossible for her to see him, and he didn't want to harm her. He promised her that she'd be a diva, and she was. Also, those little thoughts in the back of her mind burst forth in a moment of clarity. When he had shoved her away after she removed his mask in the lair, she had felt that strange tingling in her lower stomach and her thighs. When he ripped the ring from her neck at the masquerade, she had felt it again. His phrase at the ball, 'You belong to me!' seemed so right to her. And, perhaps the most important of all, was the fact that Raoul had passed right by her on his first visit to the opera house as the patron, but he hadn't noticed her when she was a mere chorus girl and ballet dancer. He didn't notice until she became the diva that the Phantom had made her. She so wanted what he'd said to be true, but she couldn't help but remember that Raoul had automatically assumed that she'd go to supper with him, hadn't listened to her when she'd told him no, told him that she'd had to stay.
She rose and walked into her bedroom, returning with a small wooden box out of her wardrobe. As she returned, she noticed that the Phantom and Raoul were glaring at each other, neither willing to back down, but the Phantom wasn't doing anything to Raoul except to glare at him. He was truly leaving this choice up to her. She silently opened the box and removed the ornate pistol that she'd found when she was here last. It was loaded and ready to fire. The handle was ornate ivory, carved with a picture of the Madonna with her hands open and her heart visible to the world. Beneath her picture were the words Lux, Veritas, et Aequitas. Light, Truth, and Justice.
She held the pistol behind her back with her right hand as she approached the two men. She walked up to the Phantom and reached out with her left hand, caressing his marred cheek with her fingers. She stood on her toes and whispered to him, "I choose you, my master, my love." She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, her tongue working its way into his mouth. He responded slowly but with increasing confidence. Finally as they broke apart to regain their breath, she turned to look at Raoul. Though she wasn't looking at the Phantom, she spoke to him, "Master, I know that whatever I say, I cannot be forgiven for what I have done to you tonight and over the course of the last few weeks. All I can say is that I'm sorry and that I do this for you." As she finished speaking, she cocked the pistol and pointed it towards Raoul. Most men in this situation would be moving quickly in an erratic pattern trying to throw off the wielder's aim. However, since her master had tied the poor fop to the gate earlier, Raoul was going nowhere. She pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew out and ripped open Raoul's throat. She turned back to her master, kneeling in the water, which came up to just beneath her breasts, and held the gun handle out to him, gripping the barrel in her slender fingers.
Erik was confused. She had said she chose him, which meant that he'd let the fop go free, but then she'd pulled out his pistol, which, he realized, she must have got from her room, and shot the fop. No matter. The fop was now dead, and here she was, offering herself to him, as well as returning the gun. He reached down took the gun from her and placed it in his belt. He then reached down with the same hand and cupped her chin, bringing her face up to meet his. "You're right, Christine. What you have done has hurt me more than you could possibly know. However, that pain is tempered by the gorgeous new pet I seem to be acquiring. Will you be that, Christine? Will you be my pet, my little slave?" She nodded slightly. "Speak up, my dear. I can't hear you."
"Yes, master. I will be your little pet, your little slave."
"Good." His voice was short and succinct. "Come with me." She rose and followed him. He led her to the bank of mirrors hidden under cloth. "Stay here. Do not move. I shall return." He walked off and returned a few minutes later with a small package. "Let's go." He pressed a catch on the side of the mirror and it swung open, leading to a dark passageway. Without a further word, he walked through it, and she followed, the mirror swinging shut behind them.
They walked for several minutes in silence when Christine spoke up, "Master?"
"Yes, my pet?"
"Where are we going?"
"I have a manor outside the city, that's where we're going."
"Oh." She spoke no more until they exited the passageway near the Rue Scribe, and there was a carriage and driver waiting there. When they had both entered the carriage, he handed her the package that he had brought with them.
"Open it." As she obeyed, he reached down to the hem of the wedding dress, which was still very damp, and pulled it aside to reveal her perfect legs. He placed his hand on her knee and slid it up her thigh to the junction of her legs, where he found she was not wearing any undergarments. He smiled slightly as she finished opening the package, revealing a small, velvet box. She opened the box, inside there was a black choker necklace. She looked at her master questioningly. He merely smiled wider. "That is to signify you are owned, Christine. This is your last chance to leave. Once you put that on, there's no going back. She smiled at him and put the necklace around her neck. Her smile quickly turned into moans as his fingers began to work her beneath her skirt. "Now, what do you say, my pet?"
"Th-thank you, master. I am yours."
"That's right, you are. Never forget it. Now, it's going to take us a few hours to get to my manor, which, by the way, is of my own design. As such, help me with this." He opened his trousers, revealing his hard member. She looked at it with desire in her eyes, licked her lips, and moved in to do as her master commanded.
Author's Post-Story Note: Now, before I get flamed for plagiarism by supporters of CarolROI, I would like you to look at the reviews of that author's story "Divergence" and find the one by me. You will notice that I brought this up in that review, and that I'm merely getting around to posting it now.