Chapter Text
“Free her! Do what you like,” Raoul yells, “only free her! Have you no pity?”
”Your lover makes a passionate plea,” the Phantom of the Opera, a murderer, a ghost, a man, snarls.
”Please, Raoul, it’s useless,” Christine sighs.
”I love her!” Raoul calls, gripping the bars of the portcullis blocking him from his poor Little Lotte. “Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion!”
”The world showed no compassion to me!”
The Phantom laughs cruelly and grips Christine’s arm tighter, dragging her along the floor.
“Christine, Christine... let me see her!”
”Be my guest, sir!” The Phantom cackles, throwing Christine to the ground and pulling some hidden lever.
Raoul rushes to Christine the second the portcullis gives him enough space to duck under it. “Are you alright?” he whispers, gently grabbing her hands.
She shivers, and he pulls her closer to him, checking for a steady pulse, reassuring himself that she’s there, she’s still there.
“Raoul,” she sobs.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.”
”Please, don’t.”
”I’m here, it’s alright. Shh,” he murmurs, holding her as tightly as he dares, rocking softly.
The Phantom is saying something behind them, presumably monologuing in that infuriating way of his.
(This was, of course, long after monologues were invented. Most things came after monologues. In fact, when man first clambered from the slime, after paying his taxes and making stew, he monologued to his stew bowl about how sad it was that he’d eaten all the stew.)
He says something, something that Raoul cannot care about, not when Christine is so scared, so hurt, clinging desperately to him.
And then he feels the rope, feels the Phantom’s gloves brushing against his face as the noose is looped around his neck, feels the burn as he’s abruptly pulled away from Christine, tugged to his feet, hanging ever so slightly above the ground.
”Order your fine horses now!” the Phantom taunts, tightening the rope, and Raoul’s mind flashes back to that disastrous showing of Il Muto six months ago and the sweet moments he and Christine had shared on the rooftop afterwards.
Christine’s sobbing even harder now, eyes red and glassy.
“Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes!” the Phantom- no, he is a man, nothing but a man- mocks, mimicking Madame Giry’s frantic instructions. “Nothing can save you now, except perhaps- Christine!”
At the mention of her name, Christine sits up and wipes away her tears, crawling closer to Raoul.
“Start a new life with me!” he demands, turning to Christine and holding out the end of the rope tantalizingly. “Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice! This is the point of no return!”
“The tears I might have shed for your dark fate,” Christine says, voice trembling and uncertain, “grow cold and turn to tears of hate!”
”Christine, forgive me, please forgive me,” Raoul cries, unsure how he can even still breathe, let alone talk. “I did it all for you and all for nothing!”
”Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend!” Christine continues, voice growing stronger and speaking over him. “We had such hopes, now those hopes are shattered!”
”Too late for turning back now,” the Phantom sneers, “too late for prayers and useless pity.”
“Say you love him and my life is over,” Raoul declares, for really, he’s never been good at anything other than loving Christine, and if she doesn’t love him back, there’s not much point in living.
The Phantom speaks over him too. “Past all hope of light or hell, no point in fighting!”
”For either way you choose, he has to win!”
”For either way you choose, you cannot win!”
They say it together, and the Phantom glares at him before continuing.
“So do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?”
”Why make her lie to you to save me?” Raoul spits. “And really, you know, you could act like I’m actually here. It’s my life on the line, after all.”
”Your life?” the Phantom hisses. “You are willing to die for her.”
”Naturally,” Raoul says, adjusting the rope as much as he can. “And I’m terribly sorry to ruin the moment, my apologies.”
Christine reaches out for him, fingers trembling desperately.
“Do as you like,” he says. “Like I said before. Do as you like, but please, in the name of whatever it is you find good in this world, let her go free.”
“Do as I like, little Vicomte? You could not handle what I’d like. Not to mention that it certainly doesn’t involve you- living, that is.”
”Please! Let her go!”
”Raoul, Raoul, no! Please, don’t- don’t sacrifice yourself for me!” Christine begs, pulling herself up and grabbing his arm. “Don’t die for my sake!”
”You’re very noble, Angel,” the Phantom smirks, watching with what seems like a cruel amusement.
“Don’t call me that! You were the Angel of Music!” Christine shouts. “You deceived me. I gave my mind blindly. Tell me, Angel, who deserves this?”
”I have deserved this-“ and the Phantom tugs on the rope “-many times over. Do not dare to dream of what a demon like me could do to earn this and more.”
”Let her go,” Raoul whimpers, scratching desperately at the rope.
The sound of voices far ahead reaches them.
“Do as you like, please, only let Christine go.”
The Phantom glares at him, then at Christine, who shudders.
“Fine! Leave, then. Leave and forget all of this. Forget me, forget all that has happened. Go!” he shouts, shoving open a mirror to reveal a passage.
”Go!” he yells again.
”I’ll come back for you,” Christine says. Her voice cracks. “I promise.”
”But-“
”This is true love,” she smiles through the tears, embracing him one last time. “You think this happens every day?”
Raoul breathes in her scent one final time and presses a kiss to her hair. “Good-bye, then, Little Lotte.”
”If I lose my scarf again, will you fetch it for me?” she whispers.
”Anything for you, darling. I love you.”
”Go!” the Phantom screams, grabbing Christine’s arm and yanking her away from Raoul, shoving her towards the passageway. “Don’t let them find you!”
Raoul hangs for a long while after Christine leaves, he thinks, before anything happens.
“Er- you are going to do something with me, right? And the mob?”
”They’re lost,” the Phantom says brusquely. “Only I and Giry know the path down here, and she wouldn’t dare to lead them down.”
”If you say so.”
Silence falls again for a long time.
It could be days, or hours, but from Raoul’s best guesses, he’s left standing on the very tips of his toes for far too long, with the now-familiar burn of rope around his neck.
Finally, the Phantom stands from the organ where he’s been sitting and watching.
”Now,” he begins, “what to do with you?”