Disclaimer: I own nothing, and post only for my own enjoyment. I make no profit from this storytelling.
AN: It's been many years since I've written anything, but Love Never Dies drew me in. Despite so many people's opinions, I actually really enjoyed the filmed version. Perhaps I'm cynical, but the actions of the characters didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. I did wonder what would have happened if Raoul hadn't been so easily distracted in the bar. He seemed to understand what Meg was really saying, but was distracted by her mention of Christine. I wondered what would have happened if he'd been a little more persistent, and the Phantom had overheard a bit more. While I've only ever posted one-shots, I do have about 1.5 more chapters written that need tweaking. And yes, I stole the title from the cut song from the movie version of Phantom of the Opera.
AN Edit: The first two chapters have been edited as of September 2018. I have trouble believing it's been a year since I wrote this, but it was not forgotten.
- No One Would Listen -
"It's hard to keep your conscience clean." Raoul looked over at Meg Giry and recognized the look in her eyes. He'd seen it in a hundred poor girls leaving the offices of the powerful and rich. Hell, before his debts became public knowledge those girls had been flirting with him. Not that he'd ever partaken, of course. That had been back when love flowed so easily in his marriage. When he could all-too-easily imagine those girls as Christine if he'd not found her again. As Meg had become. Compassion forced him to his feet and he reached for her hand, interrupting Meg's ramblings on the cleansing power of the sea.
"Miss Giry, you could have been so much more." Meg ceased speaking abruptly. If Raoul hadn't seen the agony on her face just a few moments ago, he would never have suspected the pleasant, innocent smile to be a mask. The little ballerina proved a quite accomplished actress. What could she have accomplished if that thing had never interfered with the opera?
"I don't know what you mean. I'm almost to the top." Unbidden images of another pretty prima ballerina with dreams of a better life flashed before Raoul's eyes. Philippe's mistress from so long ago whom Raoul had last seen as a lifeless body pulled from the Seine. After the events of that night, the poor girl found herself without a position and without a protector. Guilt tried to rise, but Raoul bore no responsibility to his brother's mistress. Still Raoul feared he saw the same sort of hopelessness building in his dear wife's oldest friend that he had seen in Phillipe's mistress's eyes the night Raoul refused to become her new protector.
"I think we both know what I mean, Miss Giry." Raoul dropped Meg's hand to retrieve his drink. "Does he know about the... work … you do on his behalf?" Meg flinched and wrapped her arms around herself. An obvious and yet, unwilling denial. What was it about that monster that drew these women to it? Even Madame Giry had a strange sort of loyalty to it.
"Once the Master sees me as a leading lady, he'll see. He'll see that I am all he needs." Meg's words rang with the conviction of an oft-repeated mantra. Pity warred with contempt within Raoul for the obsession in her voice. He lifted his drink and sipped. He felt just relaxed enough that the foul fiend's presence in this town did not bother him. It wasn't as though that monster was truly a rival any longer. After all didn't Christine choose Raoul ten years ago? That should be enough for the Vicomte; why couldn't he stop the drinking and be the hero his sweet Christine needed? Raoul deliberately set the glass on the bar. Perhaps saving Meg from herself would be a start on the path to becoming the hero again.
"Have you thought about what will happen at the concert? If he hears Christine sing again, she'll be lost. There's more to this than you know, I've seen it!" A flood of anxiety for Christine swept aside any further thought of Meg's predicament.
"What do you mean?"
"Take her away. There's a ship that sails tomorrow at noon. Take your family and be gone from here or he'll never let her go!" Meg tried to flee, but Raoul grabbed her hand. For just a moment her eyes locked on his but the great hero's drunken mind failed to find the words. She yanked her hand out of his and fled the bar. Raoul chased after her, shouting the first thought that came to mind to draw her back in.
"He's not Mephistopheles you know!" Raoul stalked back to his seat. Bravado rose in the absence of the object of fear. "He's just another circus freak. I'm not afraid of him."
The Vicomte slapped his hand on the bar to get the bartender's attention. He picked up the forgotten glass and scoffed. "A freak who lets an innocent girl like Meg Giry pay his debts with the powers of the town. Who could fear a creature so helpless he needs to hide behind a prostitute's skirts?"
Focused on his drink, Raoul didn't see the bartender flinch and freeze momentarily. The glass emptied, Raoul slammed it down. The bartender spun around, white mask gleaming in the soft light of the bar. Fear Raoul would never admit forced him to leap back from the bar. For a moment the pair stared at each other in mutual contempt.
"No, it can't be."
"Not afraid of me you say?"