Phantom of the Opera The Last Time

This is a oneshot in Erik's POV. It is basically the end of the Final Lair scene. But please keep in mind this is based on the STAGE musical, not the movie. There are BIG differences. Anyway this was inspired by and based on Hugh Panaro's Final Lair performance. I took some liberties with the length, but there are not any dramatic changes. Like I said this is kind of in Erik's point of view but the italics are his exact thoughts.

This is probably the corniest thing I have ever written. You have been warned.

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"_Masquerade, paper faces on parade._

_Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you."_

Behind him he hears footsteps, and suddenly he is filled with hope when he turns around and sees her. He smiles because he holds onto that notion, the possibility she will stay with him.

But once he looks into her eyes he knows that his hope is for nothing.

_Oh Christine…._

She stops a few feet from him and he knows she is waiting for him to come halfway. He stands, slowly walking towards her, each step harder and heavier than the last, because he knows soon she will be leaving him. And that makes it more difficult than ever.

They meet each others' eyes. A kind of understanding passes between them and in that moment they both know that they will never see each other again.

He slowly studies her, for he knows it will be his last chance.

His eyes first land on those chocolate curls that consistently bounced so freely about her head. They always looked so soft.

_So utterly touchable…._

Ever since he first saw her, he has longed to run his hands through them, to marvel at the feather light sensation. Such a simple wish, but one that had never been granted. And now it never would be.

He slowly examines her lips, trying to commit them forever to his memory. But then, he knows he could never forget them. Those lips that not mere minutes before, showed him the most affection he had ever received in a lifetime. He was shocked, but that didn't mean he didn't absorb the feeling of that flesh gently resting against his.

_It was bliss… Complete and utter, mind numbing bliss._

He wished he could kiss her forever. One kiss and he was convinced; he never wanted to stop.

He slowly raises his gaze to hers and then knows what he will miss the most. _Those magnificent eyes. _

They would passionately display any emotion she felt. He could lose himself forever in those wonderful depths and never want to be found.

Eyes are the windows into a person's soul. He had never believed the foolish concept. But looking deep into hers, he now knows it to be true.

Her eyes are the gateways into her soul. And her soul was a beautiful thing.

_The most beautiful thing about her. _

He could stand there for eternity and never grow tired of contemplating all the things in life he wanted to do with her. All the things in life he wanted to _share_ with her.

_I want to share everything with her._

But such things were not meant to be, for too soon she broke their heated stare and raised her hand. Before she even completed her action, he knew what she was doing. And it broke his heart all over again.

It broke him to know that another's ring would soon be there. Soon she would belong entirely and utterly to someone else. She would love someone else and be loved by someone else. And that someone was not him_._ It never had been.

_That damned boy…_

The foolish Vicomte didn't deserve her. But then again neither did he.

She ever so slowly pulled the ring off her finger, as if savoring the feeling of the hard edges on her skin. She then took the ring to her lips, planting a kiss there, before offering it him.

He grasped her hand in his, holding tightly, nowhere near ready to let go yet. This would be the last contact they ever shared, and he was painfully aware of it.

Before she went he knew he needed to tell her. Something he had never told her, something she had never known.

"Christine," he said slowly, deliberately, "I love you."

_I've always loved you. I'll never stop loving you._

And he had. Through all the hurt and the pain they had caused each other he never doubted it. He always knew his feelings to be true. He never meant to be cruel. He just wanted her love in return, because he loved _her_ so desperately, so passionately. He was after all a selfish man. He knew this.

He wanted to tell her all these things. He wanted to tell her how completely sorry he was for the things he had done. He _wished_ he could tell her. But the truth was in admitting his love, she knew all the rest. He didn't have to speak it aloud.

She stared at him as he said it before squeezing his hand tightly, and in that instant, he knew it was goodbye.

_She's saying goodbye. She's leaving. She's never coming back._

_Oh, God._

_Please Christine, don't leave me._

But he was powerless to stop it.

As she looked at him for the last time, he could not identify the particular emotion on her face. And maybe -he realized- he didn't want to know.

She squeezed his hand once more before running towards the lake, all the while choking back a sob.

"I love you," he whispered, "I love you, I love you."

She could not hear him but after not saying it for so long, it was liberating in that moment of despair. She knew it now; he just wished he had said it sooner. It felt so good to say it, so good to tell her.

So for that second he would pretend she could hear his whispered declarations of love. Just for that second.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Oh, how I love you, Christine._

He turned around, putting his back to the lake as he slowly slipped the ring back on, relishing in the fact that her hand had been there.

_Her lips had been there…_

But she had also returned it, and that truth was enough to make him look away from his hand helplessly.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime."

He closed his eyes and smiled as he absorbed the heavenly sound she could produce. Only her voice could make him smile in this utter loneliness.

And she did.

For a moment he pretended she was singing to him, singing of loving each other forever. And he would run to her overjoyed as he had never been before, all the while pulling her into a fierce, passionate embrace. But not for too long, because soon he would draw back and answer her the only way he could: in song.

"_Say the word and I will follow you."_

But it was not his voice that sang to her. It was the boy's.

And suddenly, it was like reality was thrown over him in a bucket of ice, succeeding in melting his fantasy away.

His eyes landed on her veil. He quickly walked the short distance and picked it up, pulling it to his face, absorbing the wonderful smell that had to be Christine.

"I love you," he whispered to the veil, as if it was magically connected to her and she would hear him. It was slightly comforting to him right then, even though it was foolish.

He faintly heard the boat drifting farther and farther away.

_Wait!_

His mind screamed for her, called out to her.

And he turned around to see her once more. They were almost out of his line of vision.

_Christine! No! Please come back. Please. I need you. I love you._

"Share each day with me, each night, each morning."

He knew what he had to do. One last time his voice would accompany hers, like they were always meant to.

_Like we were always made to. One last time._

Emotion surged in his chest and clouded his senses, making him unable to think clearly. And he sings the only thing he can, the only truth in that single moment.

"You alone can make my song take flight. It's over now, the music of the night."

She disappeared from view as the final word escaped his throat and he fought back the urge to follow her.

_Goodbye, Christine._

He looks around as if suddenly lost, before his eyes settle on his armchair. He drops the veil as he walks almost blindly towards it.

Once he sits down, he looks around his home of so many years. His sanctuary from the world. But too soon he hears the approaching mob.

_Time to go._

He pulls the cloak over himself, the blackness covering him as he knew it always would.

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I read this over and was ashamed to see all the switches between past and present tense. I meant it to be in the present totally and will correct this whenever I have the time. I hope it is not too distracting.


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Phantom of the Opera, Angst, Romance