"What are you doing Gerard?" Inspector Ledoux yelled, stopping suddenly in his tracks, the colour draining from his face. Gerard shuddered, lowering his eyes from Erik's desperate figure on the roof above. His hand trembled.

"Erik," he whispered, forcing himself to meet his son's grey eyes.

Erik whipped his cloak round and looked down with tears glistening in his stony eyes, once so filled with passion, now empty and despairing. He shrugged, as out of the corner of his eye he saw the Sergeant reach Ledoux, whispering urgent instructions to him.

"I want him alive!" the shout cut through the air, and it was that which changed Erik's mind. He flinched, and, aware of Gerard's gaze, looked down again. He wasn't surprised to see the silver pistol pointed up at his chest. Gerard always was a man of his word.

Nodding frantically, aware of the guards closing in, the 'Phantom' steeled himself for the end, hands in the air, cloak flapping in the night breeze. Behind the mask his aging face was forlorn.

Shaking, Gerard took a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, pulled the trigger, but the sound he had been dreading and yet so desperate for never came. Cursing, Gerard fumbled with the weapon, trying to work another bullet into the chamber, but the Sergeant and Inspector Ledoux were too quick as they forcibly restrained him, seizing the pistol from his grasp. He heard Erik's muted cry of despair and turned his face away so as not to watch.

"Christine!" Erik cried, contemplating the jump down to the roof below. He took a wild pace towards the edge, ready to throw himself off if the need arose. The guards rushed forwards to block his escape, grabbing him by the arm. He span round to face them, his sword hissing out of its scabbard. From behind him, two more guards rushed forwards to tackle him to the ground. Sword flailing, Erik struggled to throw them off, slowly weakening. Another man grabbed him by the wrist and yanked the sword from his grasp, tossing it aside. It fell with a clatter beside Gerard on the roof below, who strained in vain against the two men to try to pick it up.

The guards forced Erik's arms behind his back and prodded him to his feet. They began to drag their unwilling prisoner to the door off of the roof, but were met with the shrill cry of Choleti, the manager of the Opera House.

"Let me see his face. Who is this Phantom?" he insisted, striding across the roof towards them. Erik's head turned quick as a flash to look down at Gerard, his eyes begging the man to do something, to prevent his humiliation. Gerard, still restrained by Ledoux and the Sergeant, could only look on in sorrow at the scene which was unfolding before him.

Philippe, with Christine in his arms, tentatively approached the group. Tearing herself from him, the girl tried to push through the guards to Erik, but was held back.

"You cannot see him mademoiselle. He is too dangerous," the guard in front of her said as Christine tried to brush him aside, sobbing. She pushed at him as Philippe took her by the shoulder and turned her away. She looked back over her shoulder, her vision blurred by tears as she saw the guard take hold of Erik's mask.

"Here is your Phantom of the Opera!" he announced grandly, and yanked the mask off, breaking the ties at the back. There was a collective gasp of horror as the guards turned their faces away. Choleti could not help but look away in disgust. Philippe simply stared at his feet, fiddling with his gloves, trying to keep a calm facade, for his lover's sake more than his. Only Christine held her gaze level, staring into Erik's eyes. Gerard had turned away, appalled for his son, angry at himself, annoyed at Ledoux and the bothersome Sergeant who still held him.

"Will you let me go?" he snapped, pulling against them.

"We would not want you to help him," Ledoux said quietly in Gerard's ear. Gerard shook his head bitterly.

"You do not trust me Inspector," he said softly. Ledoux shrugged and turned to watch the commotion on the roof.

"Christine," Erik whispered over and over, as if she alone could protect him, "Christine." Slowly, the panic he had kept so well hidden began to fade, and he began to think more clearly. There was no time for clever plans, no time to waste. He struggled a little, then breathed heavily as if tired out, and soon he felt the guards loosen their grip a little, believing he had truly given up. Still he waited. Far below, Gerard watched. He hoped he knew what Erik was doing. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, Erik had torn one arm free of the man's grip, and struck out recklessly at the other man holding him. Someone else grabbed him and a fist drove hard into his stomach, winding him. He fell to his knees, coughing. "Christine," he rasped.

Gerard recoiled from the sound, finding it difficult to bear watching his son in pain, but stopped himself from speaking, for Ledoux was watching him with a strange expression on his face.

"I am angry," Gerard said by way of explanation, though it was little excuse. He watched Ledoux, staring into his eyes. When he looked up, the guards were bundling Erik through the door. All that was left on the roof was the white mask, turning in the breeze where it had caught on the edge. Gerard looked at it sadly, then bent to pick up the forgotten sword from the ground. The two men let him go, striding over to the door, leaving him alone with Christine and the Count.

"Erik," Christine whispered, sobbing again, face buried in Philippe's chest. "What happened Erik?" Philippe fought back a shudder at the mention of his name.

"Christine," he said softly, looking into her eyes and seeing love there. His jealousy dissipated then, and he hugged her. "Christine," he whispered. For once she found no comfort in his embrace. Philippe sighed, arms around her. He kissed her gently, and while she did not flinch from him, neither did she kiss him back.

"Can I not do anything right?" she moaned, looking up again at Philippe with a deep sadness in her eyes. "I have hurt him twice now. Even when I try to make things right look what has happened! And now…there's nothing I can do, is there?" she sighed in a resigned sort of way and fell against Philippe, burying her face into his shoulder as if trying to hide from the cruel reality of her life.

"Shh, now," he whispered comfortingly into her ear, wishing more than anything that the tears which stained her face would cease to flow, that the sweet smile which he adored so much would light up her face again, signalling the end to her pain.

Christine let out a small sob, and Philippe wrapped his arm around her waist, gently leading her over to the door. She followed in a blind daze, only looking back once to see Gerard standing where he had been left, Erik's sword in his hand, gazing upwards at the starry sky, before Philippe led her inside.

"Erik," Gerard whispered into the night, "Son, do forgive me, I have failed you…" He shivered in the pale moonlight that flooded the opera house, beautiful but somehow cheerless. The wind moaned a low lament as it passed by, whistling around the statues which stared down at his lonely figure. Head down and shoulders slumped, he made his way to the door, but being unable to force himself to return to the world below, he instead turned and climbed slowly up onto the main roof, where the white mask still dangled in the darkness. He picked it up slowly, holding it gently in his trembling hands, inspecting every small detail as he never had before, finally realising that he was crying.

Clutching the mask to his chest, Gerard stood still for a long time, looking out across the Paris skyline without seeing it, bitter tears rolling down his face.

A/N: Ok, this is our first fic, so we're a little nervous about posting. Please review and tell us what you think. Please be honest, as we said in our profile, we'd like to improve, not be told we're super and amazing when we're clearly not, as many reviewers tend to put on other stories we've seen.