Chapter 4: The Meeting of Rivals

Christine, Madame Giry, Meg, and I stood in the sitting room of my chateau. It was the night before the wedding, and the Giry's had come to retrieve Christine so she could stay the night at their newly accquired flat in order that they could help her get ready in the morning.

"Do you have all your things Christine?" asked Madame Giry. "You haven't forgotten anything?"

"No," she replied. "I've checked a hundred times to make sure I didn't forget."

Meg grinned broadly, standing up on her tiptoes in excitement. "This is so thrilling!" she exclaimed, pulling both Christine and I to her in an embrace with a strength I hadn't thought possible. "The two of you finally getting married, reunited after all those years, going through what you did! It's so wonderful!"

Christine and I both chuckled at her enthusiasm, and Madame Giry smiled wryly, ever calm.

"You are always the romantic, Marguerite," she said, tapping the floor with her cane. "Now we'd best get going. We all need our rest."

"Agreed," I said, turning to Christine. "Remember, Adelaide and Cosette are coming to the Giry's flat to help attend to you in the morning. I told them you probably didn't need anymore assistance, but they are rather excited about this, and brushed me off."

"Well it is their little brother's wedding after all, and the three of us get along splendidly," said Christine. "And Aunt Claire is coming here to meet you and Lucien?" she said, referring to my best man, and friend since my schoolboy days, who was due to arrive from his country estate in about half an hour.

"Yes," I said, leaning in to give her a swift kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well, my love."

"You as well," she said softly. She gazed into my eyes, her expression full of excitment and nerves as she grasped my hand. I could tell she was thrilled that our wedding day was finally almost here, but it was also the first night in the weeks since the opera disaster that we'd been parted. Christine's strong emotions were usually present in her eyes; I was the same. I squeezed her hand, eyes absorbed in hers.

"Now now you two," interrupted Madame Giry, thumping her cane on the floor once more. "There will be enough time for all of that tomorrow. Goodnight, Raoul. We shall see you in the morning."

I waved as she shooed the girls out the door, but before she closed the door behind her she turned and shot me her typical half smile. Outside the window I could hear Meg chattering happily to Christine as they climbed into one of my carriages which was to take them safely to the Girys' flat. I watched out the window as the carriage swept down the gravel driveway and out of my sight, twilight falling. Looking for something to distract myself before Lucien's arrival, I took a seat in my favorite armchair, slid on my reading glasses and picked up the copy of Victor Hugo's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" that I'd been reading. I was hardly able to focus on the narrative however, because my thoughts kept floating to tomorrow. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I jumped in my seat when I heard the knock on the door. Jacques opened it, and I was greeted with the booming voice of Lucien as he entered the sitting room, his shaggy auburn hair a bit out of control as per usual.

"Raoul de Chagny, it's your very last night as a bachelor, what are we..." he stopped when he took a look at me.

"Why are you wearing your reading glasses Raoul?"

"Well, Lucien," I said with a laugh as I stood up to greet him. "I believe I was wearing them because I was reading. They are reading glasses after all."

"You are ever the bookish one, my friend," said Lucien, throwing himself down in the chair next to mine as he took off his coat. He reached over to slap me on the back. "You're supposed to enjoy the night before your wedding! How about a brandy?"

"Nice thought," I said. "Here, I'll get it." I walked into the kitchen and fetched some of the brandy Phillipe had left behind, making my stomache ache a bit for missing him. I took two small glasses, bidding my cook Pierre hello as he prepared dinner. "Here we are," I said, returning to the sitting room. "A nice before dinner drink." I poured Lucien a healthy amount, then poured my own.

"To the Comte de Chagny!" said Lucien, raising his glass high before clinking it with mine. "Being a mere Baron, I am humbled in your presence." With that he stood and made a mock bow.

"You're hilarious," I said drly, but unable to stop from laughing at my friend's melodramatic antics.

"Phillipe would be proud of you," he said. "And would be teasing you just as much. So, are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked. "Nervous?"

"A bit," I answered honestly, taking a sip of the brandy, feeling it's slight burn as it slid down my throat. "But more than ready. So when can I expect to the best man at your wedding?" I grinned.

"Well, I've got my eye on a few ladies," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "I swear Raoul, I just can't keep them from flocking to me."

I shook my head in laughter, sighing.

"But they're twits, most of them. My family seems to have bad taste in the ladies they've put under my nose. All the nice ones are often shy, so I have to get up my courage and talk to them. Or they're already taken. I can't tell you how many times I've started a conversation with a friendly woman at a party, only to look down and see her ring." he said. "I'm still waiting to get as lucky as you were with Christine, childhood sweethearts and all that. It's as if you two were characters in one of those novels you love so much. Christine's is very intelligent, has an unearthly singing talent, is absolutely beautiful, and not to mention is one of the sweetest creatures on the planet. Whatever did you do to deserve her, Raoul?" He laughed uproariously at his own wittiness.

"I'll be asking myself that question for the rest of my days," I answered. "Don't worry though, you'll find someone. We're young yet."

Lucien nodded, taking a last swig of his brandy. "Well," he said. "I think I'll go freshen up before we have dinner. I smell of the road."

I pinched my nose mockingly as he rose, recieving a whack on the head for my trouble. While Lucien was upstairs I decided to go out on the veranda, brandy in hand. I stopped by the door, eyeing my sword there. I picked it up and took it with me. Ever since the incidents in the graveyard and the lair,I refused to be caught unprepared for anything. I leaned on the railing, letting the warm spring air envelop me. The sun had nearly fallen beneath the treetops, it's last light laying in streaks on the wood. After a few moments I thought I heard someone approaching the confines of the back garden. Out of instinct I pulled my sword slowly out of it's sheath, moving closer to the stairs leading to the garden. A figure appeared, and for a moment I thought I'd absolutely lost every ounce of my sanity. Before me stood none other than Erik, dressed all in black, cloak blowing in the slight breeze, fedora pulled down low over a glinting white mask. I shook my head, realizing he was in fact, there, and I hadn't fallen prey to some waking nightmare or hallucination. I did not, however rush forward, but merely walked down the stairs and stood at the edge of the garden. I had learned my lesson about running headlong into anything the last time I'd encountered this man.

"I see you're a bit less impetuous than in the past," he said, meeting my gaze. "Wise of you."

"What in God's name are you doing here?" I asked, pointing my sword in front of me, but keeping my voice calm. "Come to kill me, have you?"

"I don't know what God's got to do with anything, but no boy, I haven't come to kill you. That would be going back on what I did, and I am, if anything, a man of my word. Besides, it would be a waste of my valuable time."

"A waste of your time?" I asked, attempting to stay in control. "You seemed content to put a great deal of energy into that particular errand in the not so distant past." I felt my heart racing in my chest, not so much out of fear, but out of painful anticipation of what this man could be doing here. He seemed to have no intention of answering my question. "Again, I'd really like to know what you're doing in my yard, monsieur."

His hand rested on his sword handle for a moment, and my muscles tensed up, readying myself for battle. After a few moments however, he removed his hand from the sheath. Nevertheless, I did not see fit to let my guard down. I lowered my sword, but did not sheath it.

"Paranoid, aren't you?" he said, narrowing his eyes at me and chuckling with satisfaction.

"I have reason to be," I said, narrowing my own. "What the hell do you want?"

"You and Christine are to be married tomorrow, yes?" he answered, still not really answering my question.

"You keep up well with the papers," I said in reply.

"Yes," he said, voice dripping with contempt. "I came here to ask you a few questions."

Despite my intent to stay calm, I could not hide my irritation.

"I have little to say to the man who killed my brother," I said, voice shaking with anger. "Or to the man Who wreaked absolute havoc on Christine's life. Leave. Now." My mind was overcome with memories of the night in the lair, Christine's distraught, tear stained face...the knock on my chateau door telling me my brother's body had been found...the rope sucking the life from my lungs... Christine's vivid nightmares...the chandelier crashing to the floor...Don Juan...

He glared at me. "Do not accuse me of committing a murder that I am not responsible for, de Chagny! Your brother must have fallen prey to one of the traps in the cellars. He was foolish to come after you. Those traps were there for my protection."

"Don't you dare talk to me about Phillipe." I said, my voice a harsh whisper. "Now leave me."

"Not until I've accomplished what I set out to do. I've come here to ask you some questions concerning your life with Christine. I won't leave until you've answered them."

I clenched my free fist, but gave in, not knowing what he would get up to if I didn't comply.

"Go on," I said, feeling tired. All of this on the night before my wedding, when I'd like nothing better than to laugh with Lucien and think of mine and Christine's future. Thinking of anything I could do to make her the happiest woman in the world, because she'd had enough pain.

"Your family," Erik pressed on. "They support your marriage? I see you haven't been stripped of your title."

"Yes, they support it." I said. "But even if I had been stripped of my title, I would not have EVER changed my mind about marrying Christine."

"And your fellow aristocrats, how do they feel about it all? The scandal of you marrying an opera singer?" His voice was biting.

This I knew, was a realistic question. My friends had been supportive, if not very curious about my decision, but there had been plenty of snide gossip amongst the wider aristocratic circle, particularly among the women, though I'd tried to shield Christine from it.

"All the people that matter have been more than supportive. As for everyone else, I really couldn't give a damn. And if they are anything but kind to Christine, they shall have to answer to me."

"And her music, I assume you will no longer allow her to sing in public, since she will be a Comtess?"

I stared at him, open mouthed. "Don't be ridiculous! Of course, she shall continue to sing! Whenever she's ready to perform again, I will fully support her. I couldn't ever take that away from her. What is this, an interrogation?"

"Of sorts," answered Erik, his tone short. "I intend to make sure I made the right decision in sending Christine off with you. Although why she sees you as a kindred spirit, I'll never know..."

At this I was incensed, and found words I never would have imagined saying to Erik pouring out of my mouth. "Christine and I were very close friends as children and young adolescents, and it turned into something more when we grew older," I began, trying to prevent my voice from rising again. "We've both always been dreamers, we have the same sense of humor, we share the same love of stories. We make each other feel safe and protected, and to Christine, that's very important, especially after she lost her father. Seeing her again after our years apart, I felt my soul drawn to her own. I love her with all that I am."

At the look on his face, pain mixed with oncoming anger he appeared to be trying to control, I stopped, sensitive with my words of love. There was no need to throw salt on his wounds. "And although my talent for music certainly isn't matched for yours or Christine's, I do very much have a passion for it. Why do you think I was so interested in lending my family's patronage to the opera?"

He gave a rather loud, "Ha!" at this, as though unbelieving.

"Gustav Daae taught me to play the violin, you know," I said. "I still play often."

His eyes widened in surprise, a look I hadn't seen on his features before. "You play?" he asked.

"I'm not brilliant, but I can play, yes."

At this he walked rapidly up to me and I pointed my sword in his direction.

"Put it away, monsieur," he said, throwing his own to the side as if to prove he wasn't after my life. I eyed him for a lasso, but didn't see one. I put my sword down by my side, but didn't drop it. I kept my hand up, ready to grab the rope should it appear.

We looked at each other, gazes burning. Suddenly he grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and I seized his wrist. We stood there like that for a moment, with the intensity of a blazing forest fire.

"I would never hurt her," I said, my voice firm. "She's my very life, and has been for a very long time. I'm assuming that's what you came here to check on?"

He tightened his grip on me, and I in turn, tightened my grip on him. I had the feeling however, that if he wanted to he could lift me off my feet. "Yes," he said, his voice going soft. "I cannot stand you, monsieur, but you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her...I just needed to be sure of my judgment." He let go, giving me a little push, and I released my grip on his wrist. "But if you hurt her, your life is mine."

"My life is safe, then," I said. "No one will hurt her while I still breathe, especially not me. I swear to you."

With that, he turned from me, and began walking away. I kept my eyes on him. Much to my surprise however, he turned back around.

"You didn't put a price on my head," he said. eyeing me intently once more. "You didn't send men after me. With your influence you could have had the entire police force on my tail."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but I knew it was one.

"You let us go," I nearly whispered, my tone more neutral now. "That was all I wished for, and leaving you alone was my thanks. There was no need to stir anything up; there had certainly already been enough pain for all of us. And...I couldn't have done that to Christine. She does care about your well being. You were her teacher, after all."

I saw a fleeting, sad smile cross his face.

"Goodbye, boy," he said. "And remember what I said."

I nodded, and he turned to go. He made his way across the yard, and then, without turning around, he muttered.

"And I'm sorry about your brother." It might have been just a whisper on the wind, but I could have sworn I heard him.

My eyes widened, and I watched him go, dissappearing into the shadows. We would forever be enemies, and there were hurts between us that would never heal, but there was a sort of...understanding. He understood I wasn't the shallow man he'd thought me, and trusted me with Christine's care. He realized that I did indeed, love Christine with an unceasing passion. I understood that underneath the crimes he'd committed, there was indeed a very real depth of humanity, a tragic past under the angry persona he presented to the public. I could see the change in him, the moment of redemption that had been wrought by Christine's compassion. I walked inside, still rather shocked at the entire encounter, and deciding when and how I would relate it to Christine. Her feelings toward him were such a mixture of both terror and compassion, that it would be hard to judge her reaction. I would tell her after the ceremony, I decided, as I wouldn't be seeing her before, and so as not to mar the moment with any worry. Although his intentions in coming had been decidedly good, Christine's wounds were still fresh. I would not under any circumstance, however, keep it from her for long, because honesty was important to the both of us. But I wanted our wedding day to be as wonderful as we'd always imagined. I walked inside to find Lucien sitting at the dining room table, waiting for me.

"I thought I saw you talking to someone out there Raoul. Who was it?"

"Lucien," I said, sitting down with a smile and putting my napkin on my lap. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

A/N: I'm not terribly sure how well this turned out, but I hope you guys like it. I worked it and re-worked it. I know a confrontation between the two might have been a tad more verbally violent, but I was attempting to show a sort of understanding between the two. I hope I kept them in character. Thanks for the reviews!