Raoul stared blankly out of the window the carriage, not really seeing the passing countryside as he rested his head against the glass. The only sound was the creak of the carriage and the sounds of the reigns of the horses. Raoul shut his eyes and swallowed. How long had it been? A week? Two weeks? He could not say. It must have been at least two, he told himself. He judged this from the last time he looked in a mirror, earlier this morning. There was only a faint redness encircling his neck. When asked about it, he usually replied that he had slept on it wrong.

It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, that night down in the cellar of the opera house. In that split second that had done this to him – in that second he had turned and told Erik to take Christine and run. He still didn't know why he had done it. He didn't know why he'd not done as Erik had asked him to do. Part of him wished he had, that same part hated himself for not doing it, and at the same time, hated himself for even thinking of doing it.

When the mob had reached the lair, Raoul had remembered looking up from where he sat on the stairs. He knew that he probably had looked like something from a nightmare. He knew his face and eyes were red. They had searched the entire place before he had found the courage and the strength to speak. He said that they were gone. That they had vanished before he even got to this place. And the company, the police, even little Meg Giry had believed him. They didn't even think to question him further.

Raoul knew he couldn't explain why or what he did. He couldn't even understand it himself. He opened his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

It had also been his idea to leave Paris. He needed time away from a place that held so many memories. If he could just distract himself for a while, just a little while, then he could face the pain when he was ready to do so. With his parents abroad, it would also be in his best interest to spend time on the family estate, overseeing the affairs there. The Norman countryside was so green this time of year, not at all like he had seen it last fall, when it was turning brown and preparing to sleep. Raoul managed a very weak smile and a small wave to some children as they passed a tenant's house. The children had straightened up and waved at back him as he passed.

Raoul wondered if they were all right, Christine and Erik. If they were safe, if they were together. The answer to both were more than likely yes. Like him, they had probably left Paris, or were well hidden within it.

The gossip in Paris had made staying there a nightmare in it's own way. The police were still searching for Erik and the assumed abducted Christine Daee. Raoul knew that they would never be found, not unless they let it happen. He gave Erik enough credit to know that the man was that clever.

Raoul ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat as the carriage circled around a drive and came to a halt. From the window he could see a better part of the staff waiting for him. He swung the door open and stepped down to the drive.

"Thank you for this welcome. It is fine to be home and very wonderful to see you all in the best of health." He crossed up to the entryway, nodding at several people as he went inside. He was removing his coat and gloves and handing them to a footman when Madam Catereau, the housekeeper, came down the stairs. "Mi'lord, welcome home."

"Thank you, Madam Catereau. It is indeed good to be home. I had not planned on coming home before the autumn, but I felt it was best if I returned."

"Of course sir. Is there anything you require?"

"Not at the moment. I will have dinner in my chamber tonight. I will be inspecting things tomorrow, after I've rested."

"Of course sir. Are lordship's parents to be expected soon as well?"

"Not until October, if then, Madam. My last message from them came from New Orleans."

"Yes, sir."

"That will be all, thank you Madam."

"Yes, sir." The woman turned and went up the corridor as Raoul turned and climbed the stairs. Once he reached his room, he shut the door, turned and sighed. As far as anyone here knew, the reason he looked the way he did was from the trip and that he was tired. He crossed to the window and opened it. The rich smell of lilac and gardenias floated up to him from the garden below.

It would get easier. He told himself this nearly every hour. Each day it would be come easier and easier to handle. Soon, he would be able to move forward, and then, perhaps, he could understand why he did what he did. And perhaps there would be no pain.

Raoul stared down at the faint bruise son his wrists where the rope had bound him to the portcullis. All wounds eventually healed, it was just that some took longer than others. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He willed himself not to weep. Tears would do nothing, they would change nothing. A sharp knock on the door caused him to jump slightly. "Yes?"

A housemaid opened the door. "Begging your pardon, but Monsieur Montmaneru is here to see you."

Raoul stared blankly at the girl for a moment, and then realization came to him. "Of course, thank you." He exited the room and came to the stairs and looked down. "Pierre, I thought you were in Austria." He smiled as he came down to greet his friend from school.

"I thought you were in Paris. I was glad to hear you'd come back." Pierre Montmaneru was slightly taller than Raoul, with dark hair and grey eyes. "You feeling all right, my friend?"

"Tired from the journey." He walked into the drawing room and Pierre followed. "I must be getting old, that trip seems longer every time I take it."

"Did that trip ever seem short?" Pierre said, shutting the door behind him, laughing.

"I suppose not. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Pierre stood in front of a chair, his hands resting on the back. "I heard you were engaged."

"I was." Raoul swallowed and looked away from his friend. "I was engaged, but I am not... engaged now... she ah... I suppose..."

"Let me guess..." Pierre pursed his lips. "She was in love with someone else."

"Yes. But if she is happy, then I am happy for her."

Pierre laughed. "Still the same noble Raoul, aren't you?"

"Old habits die hard, my friend." Raoul said as he sat down. "And how have you been?"

"For the most part, rather well. I canceled my trip to Austria. I had... more pressing matters here."

"You've wanted to go to Austria since we were boys, Pierre. What's wrong?" Raoul leaned forward as his friend sat down. Whatever was going on his life, Raoul had the feeling that Pierre had a greater problem.

"Do you remember Gustave Ledux?"

Raoul thought for a moment. "Yes. I remember him from school. I couldn't stand him then. I doubt if I would care for his company now. There was something... something wrong about him."

"You mean aside from the fact that he is the most selfish bastard ever to be my misfortune to know?"

"What does Ledux have to do with you, Pierre? We made a habit of avoiding both him and his company a long time ago. I thought he was in Monte Carlo, or somewhere like that..."

"He was. I'm not worried about myself, Raoul. It's someone else I'm worried about. Ledux has a huge debt, I know that. I've looked into it... I've heard about it, it's all the gossips around here talk about. And that's not all they talk about."

Raoul leaned forward on his arm. "What's he done?"

"I don't know the sordid details, but I know for a fact that he was thrown out of a brothel in Monte Carlo for beating a girl."

"My God..." Raoul shook his head. "What does this have to do..."

"It's not me, Raoul. That... filth." Pierre spat the word. "Has been watching my sister far to closely."

"Your sister? Amelie?"He thought for a moment. "Your sister is only sixteen." Raoul felt revolted. "She's barely past being a child."

"I know that. I also know that my father is old and that he cares more for a man's outward appearance than what he really is."

"Can't you reason with your father?"

"He says I should not be so quick to judge a man. I had my full estimate of what sort of person Gustave was when I was fourteen."

Raoul stood and crossed to the window, his hands behind his back. "Do you have any idea on what you are going to do?"

Pierre stood up slowly. "There's only one thing that can be done." He crossed to his friend and looked out the window. "Do you remember my sister?"

"Of course. I've not seen her in almost a year, but she is a very sweet natured girl."

"That she is."

"Your sister is not in love with Ledux, is she?"

"No, the only person my sister is in love with, if you can call it that, is Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice."

Raoul laughed. "I suppose that's a blessing, in a way."

"I suppose." Pierre shook his head. "Raoul, I have no doubt that my father can be persuaded into letting Ledux marry my sister. It's only a matter of time. Should that happen, he probably has enough unsavory friends to keep me from attending the service to prevent the marriage from taking place."

Raoul turned and looked at his friend and saw something in his face, something that he could not place. There was a look of mixed hope and fear. He cleared his throat. "Pierre, what are you thinking?"

"The only way to spare my sister the nightmare that Ledux would make of her life is to find someone else who would save her from that nightmare. Trust me, if I could do it, I would."

"Pierre?"

"I can't save Amelie, not completely." Pierre set a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "If you... don't wish to... I will understand... I mean, you are probably not in any shape to think on something like this..."

Raoul turned to him. "You want me to marry your sister?"

"I understand if you don't want to..."

Raoul turned his gaze to the window. His heart had turned to ice that night by the lake, he had not expected to do anything pertaining to love in a very long time. "It can't be to sudden, Pierre. Ledux will suspect something."

"It's May. There is time."

"True. I doubt my parents would object to the union. But I suppose I should spend some time with your sister before... well, before I do ask her."

"Then you'll do it?" Pierre raised his head. "You'd do this for me?"

"Yes. I will." Raoul crossed the room "Did anyone else, other than you, know that I was engaged previously?"

"Some people did, you know how things are here." Pierre turned from the window. "Gossip is the only thing that keeps some people going. It was a subject for a short while, but no one really believed it. Once news came from Monte Carlo about Ledux, anything else seemed minor."

"It's appalling that no one else has thought to do anything."

"He's not done anything here that would warrant that." He sighed and went across the room. "You should come to dinner tomorrow. It is a start."

"Agreed. It would be best if this did not seem planned." Raoul went to a table on which a decanter of brandy stood and poured two glasses.

"Raoul, are you all right?"

"It was a long journey and I haven't been feeling as well as I would like to – it must be the changing of the seasons or something similar."

"I completely understand. The journey to Paris only seems short when you sleep. There's talk of them building a train depot here."

"That would help – such are the days in which we live."

Pierre picked up one of the glasses and brandy and took a sip. "How can I ever thank you for doing this?"

"No thanks is needed, Pierre." Raoul took a taste of his own drink. "We all have things we must do in this world. Sometimes what we want is not what we need, and what we need is something we did not know we wanted."

Pierre thought for a moment and then nodded. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes." Raoul took another sip of his drink and ran a hand through his hair. He had a feeling he was going to be answering that question several times before the summer was out. "I'm afraid your sister will find me to be nothing like Mr. Darcy, however."

They both laughed.

"No you're not... you're real." Pierre drained his glass.

Raoul set his own glass down. "Are you certain you want me to do this?"

"There is no one I would trust more. It will be good in the end, you will see."

"I hope so, Pierre, I hope so." Raoul turned his gaze back to the window. "Are you going to tell your sister what you're planning?"

"No. I don't want her to know. She does know, however, that our father wants her married before she turns eighteen. "

"That's a year and several months hence, yes?"

"Twelve months from December ninth." Pierre pulled his gloves from his pocket. "I should be headed home, there have been reports of bandit attacks in the woods as of late."

Raoul nodded and walked his friend outside. "Until tomorrow then, my good friend."

Pierre reigned his horse. "Until tomorrow, and thank you..." He turned the horse and, as Raoul stepped back, he went down the road.

Raoul watched until his friend disappeared around a bend before turning around and headed back into the house. He had things he wanted to get finished before he retired for the night.

Amelie was waiting in the library doorway when her brother came into their home. "Pierre? Where were you?"

"I went to the Chagny estate."

"Are they back already? I thought they were in the Americas."

"No, Raoul has returned from Paris. His parents are not expected until the autumn."

"Oh. Has he returned to go to Austria with you?"

"I'm not going to Austria, Amelie – not just yet. I have... other things to do first."

"You don't need to worry about me so, Pierre."

Pierre went to his sister and kissed her forehead. "You're my little sister. It's one of my duties to worry about you."

"Father can take care of me just as well as you can, Pierre."

"I know Ame, I know. But I promised our mother before she died that I would look after you. I can go to Austria next summer."

"It must be nice to be able to travel whenever you want. I'm rarely allowed into the village."

"Perhaps someday you will travel as well..."

"I would like that... but the way you guard me..."

"Amelie Daphne Montmaneru, you sound just like our mother when you say things like that."

Amelie laughed. "Go change for dinner, Pierre. You know we can't come to the table with dirty hands."

"How many times are you going to remind me to wash my hands?" Pierre laughed as he went to the stairs.

"Until you're married and you have a wife to do it for me." She went back into the library, laughing.

Pierre paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at the now closed library door. "It will be sooner than that..." He smiled. "But I shall greatly miss it." Pierre went into his room to change. He was the only person whom Amelie teased. When they were young, when they would leave the nursery for dinner, it was always his sister's manner to make sure they were both ready. Even now, when he was a grown man, she often told him to go wash his hands before dinner.

When he came into the dinning room, his sister and father were already waiting for him. "Sorry to keep you."

Antoine Montmaneru glanced at his son. "It is all right Pierre. We've only just sat down."

As they started to eat, Pierre looked up from his plate. "Raoul de Chagny is back from Paris."

"Is he?" Antoine cut into a piece of chicken. "I thought he was going to be staying there for some time."

"His plans have apparently changed. I've invited him to dinner tomorrow."

"How nice." Amelie picked up her wine glass. "It will be nice to have company."

"Yes." Antoine looked from his daughter to his son. "Surprised you aren't going to Austria, son."

"I can go next year. I would like to spend some more time at home, now that I am finished with college."

Amelie keep her eyes on her plate. "You can go ahead and go, Pierre. We'll be fine here, won't we father?"

"Of course. If you keep putting it off, Pierre, you'll never go. That's why I always regret not going to Rome when I was your age."

"You wanted to go to Rome, father?"

"Yes, Amelie, I did. Back when I was your brother's age. I stayed here instead and missed out on the adventure. I decided then I would go in two years, but after those years had passed, well, Pierre was a newborn, and I could not leave him and your mother." He went back to eating.

"How was your day, sister?"

"It was all right. I read some, cut some flowers for the house. It looks as if it will be a lovely summer."

"That would be pleasant. It was so hot last summer... and far to cold this winter."

"There was a mass of clouds forming in the sky when I came home, it will most likely rain tonight. We could use some rain."

"That we could." Antoine wiped his mouth and set his napkin down. "If you will excuse me, I have some things to do before I retire."

"Good night, father." Amelie set her fork down.

"Good night Amelie, Pierre." Antoine left the dining room and walked to his study.

"Is something the matter with father?"

"I think he has a lot on his mind, sister. He's also not as young as he once was."

"He's not that old, is he?"

"No, not so much – but he's getting older, you know that."

"The way you talk, Pierre you'd think he was seventy."

"I know, I know... Don't worry, there's nothing for you to be concerned about."

"If you say so, Pierre." Amelie went back to eating.

Pierre rose and checked the doors into the hallway and the other into the service corridor, finding them both empty, he shut the doors tightly. "Was he here again today?"

Amelie dropped her fork, startled. "Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about, was he here again?"

"Pierre... Monsieur Ledux was only here for a little while..."

Pierre cursed silently. "I do not care for that man."

"What makes you think I do?" Amelie was horrified.

"I know, sister, I know. But our father, on the other hand, does not see beyond the surface sometimes."

"Why are you so worried about him? Has he done something wrong?"

"You know what they say about him, Amelie. If I could, I wouldn't have him in the same country as you."

"There's nothing for you to worry about... it's not like he's asked to speak to father privately, or anything."

"That you know of." Pierre shot back at her. "You don't know what he's capable of – even I don't know all of that."

Amelie stood up. "I'm glad your concerned, but why would father force me to do something I wouldn't want to do?"

"Has he asked you to do something?"

"No." Amelie stepped back from the table. The expression on her brother's face scared her. "Why? Why do you look like that?"

"I am merely concerned... Ledux... he's not..." Pierre stood from the table and came around to his sister. He took her face in his hands. "He is unworthy of you. I do not care what father says. I say Ledux is."

"Pierre, you're frightening me."

"Don't be scared." He smiled as he withdrew his hands. "I think I'm a little tired myself. Good night Amelie."

"Good night, Pierre."

When Amelie withdrew to her room, she sat down by the window and opened it. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and there was a rumble of thunder. She rested against the wall, staring out at the dark grounds. She didn't want admit to her brother that she was frightened of Gustave Ledux. She was afraid of him doing something rash and causing more trouble than it was worth. She pulled back her sleeve and stared at her arm where a dark bruise was visible.

Amelie touched it with her fingers, whimpering. She hadn't told her father about the incident earlier that day when Gustave had come by. It had probably been an accident when Gustave had taken her arm. He hadn't meant to hurt her. As much as her brother would talk about not letting Gustave near her, her brother was not omnipresent. It was only a matter of time before something happened that prevented Pierre from taking care of her.

The thunder rumbled again and the rain began to fall, a steady, hard, cool rain. Amelie lifted her head and closed the window. After changing into her nightdress, she carefully searched her room, expecting to find something or someone who wouldn't be there. Under the desk, under the wardrobe, she even looked under her bed, like a little child. "It's not like I'm going to find anything..." It was strange, but ever since she turned nearly two years ago, she searched her room in this manner before she went to sleep. She put out the light and climbed into bed. As she pulled the covers up to her chin, she stared towards the window again. "There's nothing for me to be scared of – there's nothing here that can't hurt me..."

Downstairs, Antoine looked over a few documents when a knock on the door caused him to look up. "Come."

Pierre opened the door. "Father?"

"What is it Pierre?" Antoine went back to the document he was holding.

"I'm worried about Ame."

"You're always worried about her. There's nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps. But there are a lot of dangerous people in this world, and she knows so little of those sorts of people."

"The way you speak, Pierre, you would think we were about to live in the streets."

"I think it must be my nature to worry, father."

"That it is..." Antoine looked up from the paper. "Did you have a reason for inviting the viscount to dinner tomorrow?"

"He is an old friend of mine, father. And he is our neighbor."

"You can be hospitable when you choose."

"Where you not the one who told me that we are judged by the company that we keep?"

"That I was. And I am glad that you remember it."

"I don't think I could forget, even if I wanted to."

"Wasn't the viscount engaged a while ago.. I heard something about that..."

"Ah, he was. The plans there have changed. I didn't not wish to press him for details."

"That is a shame, I think Amelie would have enjoyed some female companionship."

"Is this going to evolve into another discussion of how I am not yet married, father?"

"No... we'll be going to Paris this winter, I'm certain there will be plenty of girls at the parties this year that you might take a fancy to."

Pierre laughed. "So it is about me, isn't it?"

"Oh, perhaps I would just like to see you happily married before I die, son."

"You're to young to think about that."

"Time moves much faster when you reach my age. You will find that out." Antoine folded the letter he was holding. "You should get some rest." He tucked the letter into a drawer and stood. "And so should I." He went past his son and left the room.

Pierre went and turned out the lamp, casting the room into darkness. Then he too left the room and retired.

Several miles away, Raoul lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep seemed so impossible tonight. For a while, he merely listened to the rain splashing against the glass of his window. While it felt very good to be home, the feeling inside of him had not changed. It was as if he was empty, with nothing to drive him forward through the night and into the next day. He was going through the motions of living, deceiving those around him into thinking he was all right.

He was still not entirely sure why he was going to help Pierre. It seemed, wrong, somehow to move onward so quickly. To just go forward and not let the pain completely sink into him. But Raoul knew that if he did not move forward, his grief and heartbreak would destroy him. It had started to destroy him the moment he had sent Christine and Erik away.

Raoul was still not entirely sure how he came back to the house in Paris that night, when he got there, or what he said. It was like a great blur in his mind. He remembered leaving before most of the mob did. He had the vague memory of collapsing against the seat of the carriage, willing himself not to weep. His next clear memory was waking the next morning, his throat sore and his eyes were bloodshot.

He turned onto his side, the cool linen seemed to turn instantly warm under his cheek. I must be mad.

Raoul took a deep breath and sighed. There had to be an easier way to let go... to move forward. I could do something... there has to be someway... He rose from the bed and went to his dressing table. He set his hand on the frame that was face down on the wood. Taking a deep breath he picked it up and turned it over.

Christine's likeness stared back at him, looking up at him with those beautiful, gentle eyes.

Raoul squeezed his eyes shut, but it did not stop the tears from escaping and slipping down his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that several drops had fallen on the portrait. All he wanted to do was set the picture back up and stare at it for the rest of the night, and so what if he wept? I have every right to weep. Had I done as I had been asked, Erik would certainly weep in my stead.

He raised his head and walked resolutely to the fireplace. He removed the portrait from its frame. He set the frame on the mantle place and then, taking one last look at the picture, he took a deep breath and tossed it onto the flames.

Raoul leaned against the mantle, watching the image burn. Moving forward was a long process, he knew that. It had been that way for him and his parents when his elder brother had died when he was sixteen. Raoul had only been eight years old at the time. Neither letting go or moving forward was something one could do all at once, but tonight – tonight was the beginning.

As he got back into bed, Raoul sniffed once and then took a deep breath. Tomorrow night would be another step in moving forward.

The wounds on the heart run the deepest and last the longest.

It was very true. But for now, it was time to think about the future. There would be a time for healing when the time was right.