21. The Point of No Return

"Quickly, now!" Madame Giry urged as she and Margaret hurried through the Labyrinth, a single lantern their only light in the darkness of the catacombs.

"I can hardly see a thing!" Margaret exclaimed as she stumbled through the tunnels. Even the light given off by the lantern seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. "Are you sure this is the fastest way?"

"You must trust me," Madame Giry said urgently. "This is the fastest route I know."

Margaret just prayed that it would be fast enough. What if they were too late?

XxXxX

"Of all the incompetence!" Raoul raged. "How did he get in? How could you let him slip by?"

The chief of police tried to pacify the Vicomte. "We just got word from the jail that LaForte took out a guard and stole his key and uniform. We apologize, Monsieur le Vicomte. We could not have foreseen this unfortunate turn of events."

"If anything happens to my sister, I swear to God on High I'll have all of your badges!" Raoul snarled.

Pandemonium had broken out amongst the spectators and the police had their hands full trying to keep the patrons calm and prevent a stampede. Raoul looked around helplessly as the police evacuated the audience from the building. This was taking too long! They were losing precious time!

"We need to get down there," Raoul whispered. "God knows what could happen in those catacombs!"

XxXxX

Erik's vision was beginning to go blurry. He tried desperately to focus on the face of the man in front of him. That face… It was familiar to him too… It was a face he had seen frequently in his youth…

"You," Erik said slowly. "Who… are you?

"Don't remember me, Destler?" LaForte said mockingly, his voice filled with bitterness. "I'm hurt." He took another swing at Erik, successfully landing a blow across the former Phantom's jaw. Erik staggered back, nearly losing his balance. When LaForte attacked again, Erik kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

Erik groaned in pain as he gripped his wound, feeling blood steadily leaking out between his fingers. He couldn't fight much longer… not bare-handed… not like this… His only hope was to get back to the lair. He had a chance back there. Seizing the moment, he quickly turned and started limping through the caverns as quickly as he could while LaForte stumbled to his feet.

"You can't run from me, Destler!" LaForte growled. "I can hear your footfalls! I'll follow you to the edge of Hell, you bastard!"

Erik gritted his teeth in pain. Normally his feet made no din when he glided through the opera house, but the pain of his injury made his gait heavy and uneven. Furthermore, his footsteps were amplified by the walls of the cavern. Every step closer to safety was like a beacon calling out to his enemy. But his only hope was to keep pushing forward as fast as he could.

"It was an accident, you know," Erik heard LaForte's voice behind him in the caverns. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

"What does he mean?" Erik wondered, trying to shake the fog from his head. "What… accident?"

"But you know something?" LaForte continued. "When I heard you were dead, I was glad! I was glad that you were finally gone! And God as my witness, this time I'll make sure you stay dead!"

Erik struggled forward. There was a way back to the lair around the lake. He wasn't strong enough to man the boat in his condition. His only option was to take the long way around. But he knew he was running out of time…

XxXxX

"Here it is!" Madame Giry said as they approached the boat. "Now we just follow the cavern to the lair!"

"It's still here!" Margaret exclaimed. "That must mean they haven't gotten here yet!"

Then she heard a soft groan echo across the lake. She looked up and was shocked the see Erik on the other side of the lake, moving slowly along the stone ledge towards the place that had been his home for the last four years. Margaret could see that he was clutching his side. Could it be that his injury still hadn't healed?

"Erik!" she cried out to him.

Erik heard her voice and turned to see her on the other side of the lake. His hand flew up reflexively to cover the distorted side of his face.

"Run away, Margaret!" he called to her. "Leave this place!"

"I'm not leaving you, Erik!" she called back.

"Get away now! It's not safe for you here!"

LaForte suddenly appeared behind Erik and struck him in the back of the head, sending him crashing to the ground. Margaret cried out in horror.

"Hurry, into the boat!" Madame Giry urged her. "They're almost at the lair!" Margaret scrambled to do as the ballet mistress instructed.

Erik struggled to his feet and tried to back away from his opponent. LaForte punched Erik hard in the face, sending him falling backwards again. Then LaForte noticed the red stain spreading across Erik's abdomen.

"Well, look at this," LaForte sneered. "It's the present I left you in our last tussle." He viciously brought the heel of his shoe down on Erik's wound, making him scream in pain and making his blood splatter.

"Hurry!" Margaret screamed as Madame Giry struggled to use the pole to manoeuvre the boat across the lake.

Erik kicked upwards with his long legs, catching LaForte in the stomach. As his enemy fell to the ground clutching his gut, Erik stumbled into the lake and pulled the lever that raised the gate to his lair. Margaret lost sight of him as he disappeared inside.

"He's alright," Margaret whispered. "We can get to him."

"Pray to God that we get to him first," Madame Giry said as she pushed the boat forward with all her might.

XxXxX

"Bring every man and arm you have!" Raoul yelled over his shoulder as he stripped off his jacket and grabbed a pistol. "We've wasted enough time here!"

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I really must protest!" the chief of police said. "This is a matter for the police. You should stay here with your wife!"

"Tell me something, good sir," Raoul said. "Do any of you know the way to his lair? Because that's exactly where they're headed, and I remember the way clearly!"

Christine touched Raoul's arm. "Please be careful," she whispered. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

"I'll be fine," Raoul assured her. "Margaret will be fine too, I promise."

"And what about him?" Christine asked.

Raoul sucked in a deep breath. "Yes… I'll see to it that Destler pulls through this as well…" He turned away from her. "Follow me!" he shouted to the gendarmes. "Now! Hurry!"

As Raoul took off running towards the catacombs, his mind considered what he might find upon his arrival. "Destler," he thought. "Somehow you survived that fire… You survived the attack of an angry mob… You even survived the bullet of a madman… You had better survive this as well, or I fear my sister will die from the grief of losing you twice… Don't you dare die…"

XxXxX

Erik stumbled to his desk and feverishly tore open the drawer, his hand desperately searching for something inside.

"Where is it? Where is it?" he thought desperately.

"End of the line, Destler!"

Erik's legs gave out and he slumped to the floor, turning to face LaForte as he did so. He remained propped up by the leg of his desk, his hand still buried in the drawer. LaForte was sneering at him.

"So, this is where you've chosen to make your grave?" he said, looking around. "I'm impressed, Destler. You've done well for yourself. It's much more lavish than that tawdry cottage you used to call a home." LaForte smirked. "Your corpse will rot in this gilded prison cell for eternity."

"You were there that night, weren't you?" Erik whispered. "The night I got this." He gestured at his scarred face.

"You still don't recall it?" LaForte asked. "You don't remember how you betrayed me?"

"Betrayed you?" Erik repeated. "I… I would never…"

"Oh, but you did!" LaForte insisted, his expression becoming angrier. "You betrayed me, the man who'd been your friend since childhood!"

"We… we were friends?"

"Oh, now I am hurt," LaForte said sarcastically. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You made it perfectly clear where your loyalties stood a long time ago."

"I… I don't understand…"

"Remember, Destler?" LaForte asked. "Remember! I want you to remember your crimes before I kill you!"

"I… can't…"

"Remember the Populaire? Your music? Your opera? Remember it all!"

XxXxX

Four years earlier…

Erik locked his opera in his strong box and ran his fingers through his hair. Margaret would be home soon. He couldn't wait to tell her about his fortune with the Opera Populaire. He had just signed the paperwork with Monsieur LeFevre earlier that morning. Finally, he'd be able to give her the life she deserved.

There was a knock at his door. Erik smiled as he walked over to the door and opened it. "Back already, my love?"

But it was not Margaret who stood on his front step…

"Dominique?" Erik said when he saw the man standing alone with a lantern in his hand, glaring darkly at him. "Dominique, what is it?"

"You know what it is!" LaForte snarled as he pushed his way into Erik's house. "Well, go on then! Gloat!"

Erik smelled the pungent scent of alcohol on the other man's breath. "Dominique, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about… Have you gone mad?"

"The Populaire!"

"Oh," Erik said softly. "I see you've heard about that already…"

"Everyone at the opera house is talking about it!" LaForte growled. "You're going to be writing for the theatre!"

"And I take it you're not here to congratulate me?"

"Do you know what this means?" LaForte demanded. "With you writing for the theatre, none of my operas will ever sell!"

"What makes you think that?" Erik demanded. "There are dozens of composers who sell to the Opera Populaire. You'll get your chance…"

"Don't patronize me," LaForte sneered. "We both know you're the better composer of the two of us… They'll never buy my work as long as you keep handing them golden eggs!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Erik said incredulously. "We've known each other since we were boys… We studied music together… We both talked about writing for the Populaire someday… together!"

"We're not children anymore, Destler!" LaForte shouted. "Once you become a success, you'll forget all about me!"

"I didn't think this was a competition!" Erik shouted back, becoming angry now. "I thought you'd be happy for me, Dominique! I'm getting married! Finally, I'll be able to provide for my wife and the family we'll have together!"

"Ah, yes… The noble girl you charmed… Did her family have anything to do with you getting this deal?"

"Don't you dare accuse me of that!" Erik snarled. "You know that I am not that kind of man! I wanted you to meet Margaret tonight, but perhaps we should wait until another time… when you haven't been drinking…"

"Don't you take that righteous tone with me," LaForte growled. "Don't you behave all noble… Not when you've betrayed me!"

"I haven't betrayed you, Dominique!" Erik shouted. "You're acting like a crazed fool!"

"You've ruined my life!" LaForte screamed.

LaForte lost himself in his rage and viciously swung his lantern at Erik's face. The heated glass made contact with his right cheek and shattered, burning his flesh and embedding glass shards deep into his skin.

Erik screamed in pain and crumpled to the floor. He had never experienced such pain before… Pain that both pierced and burned… He held a hand to his face and felt blood leak out between his fingers.

"Dominique…" Erik rasped from his spot on the floor. He looked up to see his friend staring down at him in shock, unable to believe what he had just done.

Erik smelled smoke and turned to see its source… The broken lantern had landed near his couch and ignited it. The fire was spreading quickly, destroying his home. If he and LaForte did not leave now, they would soon be trapped.

"Dominique," Erik managed, trying to push back the pain. He looked up to meet his friend's eyes again. "H-help me…"

LaForte did not remove his eyes from Erik as he slowly backed away, towards the door, leaving Erik where he lay.

"Dominique!" Erik choked out. "Don't… l-leave me… Please!"

LaForte bolted out the door and shut it behind him. Erik tried to drag himself across the floor, ignoring the pain that shot from his face all the way through his body. But he was too weak, and soon the flames blocked his only exit. He was trapped…

"Dominique… you… you left me…"

XxXxX

"…for dead."

LaForte smirked. "That's right. I felt bad about it for a little while. But now I have no regrets."

Erik said nothing for a few moments. Then the scar-faced man started chuckling.

"What could you possibly find amusing about this?" LaForte demanded, irritated by the other man's lack of seriousness.

"You," Erik replied, still snickering. "I find you amusing… Pathetic, really…"

"What's that?" LaForte demanded, his temper flaring.

"I used to think that you were some kind of monster, but now I see that you're nothing more than a sad, feeble little man… A mediocre composer at best… You were jealous of me. You were jealous of my talent. You were jealous of my success." Erik smirked. "But I think what really drove you crazy was that a beautiful woman from the high society was in love with me."

"You were born in the gutter, Destler!" LaForte hissed. "I at least came from a family with money! If either of us deserved a noble woman for a bride, it was me!"

Erik sneered. "Why would any woman love a pathetic little worm like you? Face it, LaForte… you're nothing but a waste of space…"

LaForte snarled. "Enough!" He charged at the injured man.

Erik suddenly reached out and grabbed LaForte by the collar of his shirt, yanking him close. LaForte's eyes widened when he felt something sharp against his belly. Erik had pulled a dagger from the drawer of his desk and had it pushed against LaForte's abdomen while a firm grip on his shirt kept him from pulling away.

"Because of you, I lost four years with the woman I really loved," Erik hissed. "Then you had the audacity to try and take her for your own. I will feel no guilt in ending your offensive existence, old friend!"

LaForte trembled in fear. "E-Erik… please…"

"I kill one last time… for love…" Erik drew back his dagger and prepared to plunge it into his enemy's heart.

"Erik, don't!"

Erik stopped and stared past LaForte. Margaret was standing near the entrance of his lair. Her skirt billowed around her in the knee-deep water. She was looking at him pleadingly.

"Margaret," he whispered, turning the misshapen side of his face away from her, too ashamed to let her see him. "I told you to leave. Why didn't you leave?"

"Please don't do this, Erik," she whispered. "You're not a killer."

"Margaret," Erik said. "This man…"

"Yes, I know," she said. "I heard everything. I know what he did. But let the courts deal with him. Please, don't stoop to his level!"

Erik felt a lump form in his throat. "If it weren't for him, we'd be married by now," he said, his voice breaking. "You and I would have had a family. I wouldn't have to hide my face from the world… from you… He destroyed my life! He must be punished… Just let me do this… This one last time…"

"You can't!" Margaret cried. "You're not that kind of man! I can forgive the other killings… you didn't know who you were… But my Erik would never hurt anyone…"

Erik didn't move, keeping a firm grip on the trembling coward in front of him. The dagger shook in his hand.

"If you kill him now, then it means that Erik died in that fire after all," Margaret said softly. "It means that LaForte won, no matter what… It means that… the Phantom is all that's left of you now…"

Erik shut his eyes, truly struggling with himself. He wanted to take his revenge so badly, and not so long ago he could have done so with little effort. But his old moral compass had re-emerged, impeding the cold, calloused side of him that once delivered judgement without hesitation.

"Erik, please!" Margaret begged. "I know it seems like justice… but it's not right… Be strong!" Her soft blue eyes pleaded with him. "I love you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Erik hesitated a few agonizing moments longer. Suddenly, the wounded man pushed himself to his feet, still keeping a firm grip on LaForte's collar. Then, without warning, he shoved the disgraced composer to the floor.

"Get out," he hissed at the coward, before tossing the knife into the lake. Erik was twice LaForte's size, but he was ten times the man.

Margaret smiled, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "Erik," she whispered lovingly.

Erik placed his hand over the burned side of his face before he turned to approach her. Margaret smiled softly. In time, she would make him understand that his appearance didn't matter to her. It was his kind heart that she loved. Soon, she knew that he would no longer be afraid to let her see his face… She would teach him that he didn't have to be ashamed anymore…

He reached out to her with his free hand. "Margaret…"

Margaret moved forward, reaching out to him.

Erik suddenly felt a rope tighten around his neck. LaForte, ever the opportunist, had grabbed one of the many nooses that could be found in the Phantom's lair and flung it over Erik's head while his back was to him. Erik had just enough time to get his hand into the loop before LaForte could cut off his airways. Still, the tightened rope constricted his breathing, and the already-weakened man fell to his knees as his enemy kept the rope pulled tight.

"Erik, no!" Margaret shrieked.

"You… you coward," Erik wheezed out, instantly regretting not killing LaForte when he had the chance.

"Sometimes it's the cowards who live in the end," LaForte sneered, tugging the rope tighter.

"No, please!" Margaret cried. "Don't kill him! I beg you! Just let him go!"

"Ah, there we are," LaForte said with a smirk. "You seem in a much more negotiable mood now. Perhaps we can finally reach an agreement that we'll all be happy with."

Margaret's stomach clenched at the tone of his voice.

Meanwhile, Madame Giry was still in the boat just outside the lair. She was certain LaForte hadn't seen her yet. Having heard everything that transpired inside the lair, she knew that they were in trouble.

"I must get help," the ballet mistress murmured as she manoeuvred the boat back towards the shore.

"Oh, the irony of it all," LaForte said with a laugh. "It would make a most wonderful opera! The notorious Phantom, caught in his own noose, as the woman he loves is offered the same ultimatum that he himself gave the object of his obsession a year earlier!"

Margaret's eyes widened. "No… No, surely you wouldn't!"

LaForte grinned at her. "Oh, but I would!" He tugged hard on the end of the rope, making Erik gag. "So what do you say, Margaret? Will you come with me willingly and be my bride? Or does your fiancé Erik Destler die a second time?"