A/N: This is it, folks. The final chapter. I combined the last two or else they would have been ridiculously short. Sad as I am to see this story completed, I have other projects to work on now that will occupy my time for the foreseeable future. Thanks to Emma who told me the trick to get around FP's loading issues.

To say the show was a hit would be an understatement. It was incredible, beyond belief, you name it. I felt like Christine, really feeling like I had to make her choices. I was Christine, Michael my scarred Phantom, Alec my handsome suitor. Michael’s part at the end about the music of night being over would have made anyone cry. Peeking out, I could’ve sworn that there wasn’t a single dry eye in that theater. When he came offstage I dashed over to him and hugged him tight.
“You were incredible!” I shouted over the noise of the audience.
In the dim light of the stage, I could see he was very pale but smiling.
“So were you,” he said. And to my great astonishment, he pulled me close and kissed me on the lips! Time seemed to freeze, the two of us off in our own little world for a moment. I put my arms around him almost without thinking, holding him tightly. He reciprocated the gesture, and I think we wouldn’t have ever moved except for the fact that Alec called over at us teasingly.

“Man, what does a guy have to do to get a kiss around here?”

Laughter followed as his girlfriend, the dancer who played Meg, came over to him and obliged.
I couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss, feeling shaky and kind of fluttery inside. It was the first time a guy ever kissed me. I could tell it was one of those one-of-a-kind things. To his credit, Michael looked as shaken as I felt. Feeling extremely daring, I rested my cheek against his, safe in his cautious embrace. He closed his eyes and pulled me tight. For an evanescent moment, I was able to forget everything else as he gently rocked us back and forth, whispering my name.

Reality intruded in the form of the audience’s applause. When we reluctantly let go of each other, I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, especially as I walked away, out on the stage. For a wild second, I didn’t want to leave him there, alone.

The entire audience was on their feet by the time I came out with Alec. But they went absolutely wild when Michael came out to take his bows. Everyone started chanting his name as he came on stage. After about ten million curtain calls, Mr. O’Neil managed to calm down the crowd so we could all go home. I walked Michael out to the car that night, partially to protect him from the audience, but more to make sure he made it there alright. I could tell he was exhausted by the way he leaned on me as we followed the silent halls out of the building and I made him promise to go straight home and sleep, much to his wearied amusement. As I watched the car pull away, I felt tears run down my face, wishing I could go with him. I loved him so much, and to only realize the depth then! It was so hard to let him go that night.

The sad fact about the way our drama department operates was that we only had one weekend to perform. There was one show on Friday (opening night), two on Saturday, and one on Sunday. They went so fast and before I knew it, it was Sunday night and the last time I would ever get to do this. I was excited, but also very nervous, because I intended to ask Michael if he would date me at the end of the show. I was pretty sure he would say yes. We’d grown extremely close during all of this, and our unexpected kiss opening night made me bolder than I would have been otherwise.

It wasn’t meant to be.

---

Michael looked exhausted and frail when he came in for makeup on the last night of our run. It had been a demanding weekend for everyone, but it seemed to have exacted an exceptionally heavy toll from him. As soon as he arrived, Mr. O’Neil went over to Michael and spoke quietly to him, no doubt noticing how pale and drawn he was. I saw Michael shake his head violently, saying something I couldn’t catch. Mr. O’Neil looked worried, but seemed to reluctantly give in to him, shaking his head.

Once Mr. O’Neil left, I went over to Michael.
“What was that all about?”
“He doesn’t think I should perform tonight.”
“Are you sure you can?”
“I would regret it forever it if I didn’t do this.”
I frowned. “It’s not worth killing yourself over.”
“It won’t come to that,” he protested. “I’m just more tired than usual. I most likely won’t be at school Monday; I’ll probably be at home resting.”
“Not a bad idea.”
Against my better judgment, I didn’t say anything more. He wasn’t going to budge and I didn’t want to force the issue. I figured he knew his limits well enough without my lecturing. He walked over to the makeup station, effectively ending the conversation.

---

That night was magical. There’s no other word for it. Every single person in the cast fulfilled that old adage about leaving it on the stage, holding the audience captive through the entire performance. I slipped fully into the role of Christine, like Michael did with the role of the Phantom. I no longer had to remember the lines; they just seemed to flow naturally. Our duets were awesome! I get the chills just remembering it.

Maybe you know the part, at the very end of the musical, where the Phantom is alone after Christine leaves? Michael nailed it, just nailed it! Watching from the side, I could feel the agony of the Phantom, his broken-heartedness at the end. Again, no one left our little theater dry eyed. He disappeared off the stage perfectly, and I ran over to congratulate him. He was very pale even in the dim light of the darkened stage, swaying a little on his feet.

“Are you okay?” I asked, putting my arm around him.

He didn’t answer, only nodded. I didn’t believe him, but I gave him a quick hug before we had to go and take our bows, this time choosing to walk out with him instead of Alec.

The curtain calls seemed to go on forever that night. The crowd started calling for an encore, but Mr. O’Neil told us not to do it. We would have been there all night. As I bowed, I was so happy I thought I would burst. For a moment, I even thought I felt Dad watching me and applauding. Everyone on the stage was grinning like crazy as the applause went on and on. To one side of me in the bowing line, Alec was laughing so hard that he was getting teary. On the other, Michael was smiling, his face filled with a quiet joy. He had triumphed on the stage that night; everyone knew he was the real star of the show.
As the curtain came down for the last time that night, I suddenly realized the hand holding mine was icy cold. Fear tugged at my heart.
Finally hidden from the audience by the heavy curtain, I looked at Michael, who was still holding my hand. He smiled at me, heaved a trembling sigh…and collapsed.
Alec and I barely managed to catch him in time to stop him from hitting the floor, lowering him as gently as we could to the hard wooden boards.

“Get Mr. O’Neil,” I told Alec. “Call 911.”

He ran off. Remembering what Mom had taught me about First Aid, I checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak. As I leaned over to see if he was still breathing, his eyes opened.

“Sandra,” he whispered.
“Right here,” I said as calmly as I could, even as my brain was screaming No, this can’t be happening, not when he did so well!
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything,” he said softly. “Sandra?”
“I’m still here.” I felt cold, understanding now.
“I love you,” he said, his eyes closing.
“I love you too,” I whispered. He smiled faintly and sighed.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion: his eyes closed now, head slumping to one side, the hand I held sliding limply from my grasp. I watched as though in a dream as the paramedics came and put him on a stretcher, shouting things that made no sense to me. Suddenly outside, I watched the ambulance drive away, memories crowding in on me, dragging me back to the last time I saw one drive away like that, with sirens wailing and lights flashing garishly against the darkened sky….

“Dad? Mom, where’s Dad?”
“They took him to the hospital, honey.”
Mom was crying. I’d never seen her cry before.
“When’s he coming home, Mom?”
“He isn’t coming home, Sandra.”

…All of a sudden, I’m running as fast as I can. The branches whip my face, drawing blood, but I don’t even feel them. The long skirt catches around my legs, tripping me, hurling me to the ground. Sobbing now, I get up and run for everything I’m worth. I burst into the clearing, praying he will be there, to walk out of those trees, to say this is all one bad joke, that I was just dreaming, that it doesn’t really end like this, not tonight when we should all be celebrating our triumph, not weeping…

But Michael doesn’t come out of the trees to comfort me. And I already know in my heart…he never will.

Fin