Before the Phantom

A Decision

Nadette sat down on the polished black bench in the orchestra pit and uncovered the ivory keys, playing a few scales to assure herself that the piano was in tune.

It had been a week since the tunnels, a week since she had seen her friend, a week since she had heard from him. She had once again decided not to venture into the tunnels, partially out of stubbornness, but mostly because he had hurt her in the worst possible way.

Nadette had allowed herself to hope that he would be good on his vow to come back to her. She thought he may finally see that his life did not have to be wasted in the darkness he had created for himself.

His cage was not with the Gypsies, or in the deepest parts of the opera house, but in his mind.

He had given up trying to escape it and pushed her away. He had given up on Nadette, and he had given up on himself.

She desperately did not want to give up on him.

She determined that tonight she would find him, if only to congratulate him for his opera's debut, in order to show him she was still here.

So many had left him, and as angry as she was with him, as unsure of where she was in his heart, she would not leave him too.

Reyer raised his baton, and Nadette did her duty.

The piano pierced the sound of the audience who had come to see the unusual opera, and they fell silent. The specter in the rafters looked down upon the pit, watching.

She was playing flawlessly, of course. He considered sending her a note telling her such a thing later on, but after tonight there would be no need.

He had ruined the bond he had with the pianist. He knew it. All he had now was the young soprano innocently prancing around on the stage with the fat tenor, Piangi. Christine was everything to him now. She would not be taken by the stupid boy sitting in his box.

Tonight, she would be his, and Nadette could be forgotten.

A quiet voice in the back of his mind told him it would not be that simple. He hastily ignored it, and watched Piangi exit the stage after explaining his plan.

The Opera Ghost ventured back stage, lasso in hand.

Not long after, a dark figure emerged on the stage with the young soprano, and she felt an icy chill penetrate her entire being.

The voice. The way he moved. That voice.

That is not Piangi.

Whatever her childhood friend was planning, it would not end well. She could feel it. Still, she was trapped here in the pit, held by her duty to her coworkers, to Reyer, and indeed to the Phantom himself.

Christine locked eyes with her from the stage. She knew, and she was frightened.

Trapped. Both of them were trapped.

Nadette nodded at her, silently pleading with her to stay calm, to pretend all was well, and for a while she though Christine would follow her advice.

And then she tore away his mask.

What had the girl done?

There were so many screams then. So many people rushing to leave the theater or to save the soprano when the Phantom disappeared with her.

Nadette and Meg tried desperately to stop them, holding their arms out, begging them to let the police handle the situation.

The pianist searched for a way to slip out and follow them herself. Perhaps she could make one final effort to get her old friend to see sense.

Just then, a member of the mob pushed her just a bit too hard and she fell, causing her head to strike the stone floor. Meg barely had time to pull her to the side, cradling the unconscious woman in her arms before the mob rushed past her.

Down below, Erik could not believe a number of things that were happening. Christine was kissing him. Really kissing him with a passion that could only come from true love.

The love for a man she was trying to save. She was choosing to stay here with her angel, but only because her fiancé would be killed otherwise.

Erik could not believe he wasn't happy about it. Was this not what he had dedicated so many years to? Christine was his! Why did he regret bringing her here?

He could not believe that the only thing he could think about while kissing the object of his obsession was another kiss with a raven haired woman in the darkness.

Christine was not his to love. She had never been.

Nadette's heart would be breaking if she saw him like this. He had already broken it once before.

He could not do this any longer.

"Go. Leave." He told her quietly, "Take the boat."

"Angel-" the girl began.

That really was all Christine was, just a girl. He had been so blind.

"Christine," he spoke gently, "it's alright. Go. Swear you will never speak of this-of me- again."

The young woman once again cradled his face in her hand, looking for any sign he would change his mind, "Yes. I swear it."

He watched them go, and when the mob arrived. He hid behind a mirror and watched them too. Watched them ransack his home, taking souvenirs. Leaving when they were satisfied. Watched little Meg Giry pick up his mask and study it. There was blood on her hands he noticed, but it did not seem to be her own blood. At the moment he did not care to think about whose it might be. She seemed to be looking more intently for the ghost than the rest of them. Still, she left too in the end, the last to do so.

He came to sit by the bank of the underground river, staring out at the darkness of the water. He touched the cool, calm water with his fingers, wondering what it might be like to sink below.

He had lost what little he had, by his own actions for the most part. He'd even lost his Songbird.

The decision he made was an easy one.

The black water welcomed him, and he allowed himself to lose his air. Allowed himself to continue sinking.