Title: All Apologies
#: 10. Firmin
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Offshoot from Gallery Piece chapter 03. Good graces are often given to those with persistence.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Warning(s): minor violence
Word Count: 4,415
Rating: K+

A/N: Wow, how about we finish this story some time this century, right? Fml.
Story note: Ending this story. Putting the 'fin' in finally. (Lame pun) I just realized that there is no grand moment in this fic where they fall into each other's arms and declare undying love once more, which is a little disappointing considering the wait.

o.o.o.o

Raoul was barely off his estate before he began to question his own optimism with regards to returning to the opera house and speaking with Erik. He was not fool enough to believe an actual reconciliation awaited him, but perhaps something less disastrous than their previous encounters would occur. Every time they met, it was the same game but different players save for Erik and himself. What would change now, he wondered. What had changed?

The answer was simple: Erik.

Raoul had somehow managed to affect the opera ghost, enough so that Madame Giry had noticed it, and he was fairly certain she was a difficult woman to fool. He briefly wondered if he would have been able to see any effect himself if he had not kept pushing Erik away, kept running away from a confrontation, but that was now a moot point.

In his mind, leaving had still left the option of coming back. It had not been a definite resolution but he was afraid of what that resolution would be, afraid of what his pride and his heart would make him do in response. Yet, all it took was an intimation of change to drive him to reconsider leaving, to force the confrontation that he both dreaded and desired, and that was all too telling. He so desperately wanted them to work that he was ignoring all his instincts, but in the end, he needed to know and Madame Giry's note was enough to convince to do so now rather than later.

There was little doubt, however, that he was still ill-equipped to put into words his feelings on the matter. As much as, or as little as Erik had changed, Raoul had a feeling that if he did not somehow control his own reactions, they would inevitably fall into the same pattern. They would be reduced to yelling and being convinced of their own faultlessness: Erik for determining the depth of Raoul's feeling and Raoul for the anger at his flippant use of adultery.

Whenever he saw the older man look as though he was unaffected by their separation though, Raoul could not help but prefer the anger over the hurt. Given the reactions of every opera house employee that had spoken to him so far, it was obvious that Erik was affected. Still, he was not quite sure if that was indicative of the opera ghost changing or simply returning to his old ways.

Erik was unapologetic, confident to the point of arrogance, and self-righteous. He may not have gloated in his discovery that he loved him, but using that as the excuse for his actions almost made Raoul want to outright deny any affection he might have had. It was a petty reaction, but one that Erik often inspired in him. Perhaps in his pettiness, there was some other emotion there that he had been blind to.

Still, he needed at least a semblance of a plan. This was the opera ghost. Manipulation would be expected, but Raoul was still at a loss. He only thought that as smug as Erik had looked, as happy as he had been with the outcome, he could not have been expecting Raoul to act as he had. They were both a little lost. It was so very much harder than it should have been. Any other person, anyone other than Erik and Raoul would not have hesitated to leave.

Erik would always be different though, even in this. He supposed he should have first realized it that moment in the cemetery when it ultimately became clear that a sword to his neck was Erik's way of courting him, but in between moments of such tenuous resolve and hope and self-pity for his own weaknesses, he must have lost sight of that. He had gone through the gamut of emotions regarding Erik from hate to apathy, from love to outright distrust, always being swayed by mere possibilities. He was even swayed now, but they had come to this crossroads and he could not turn back from it.

Even with his mind racing through the various outcomes of this visit, he was still unsurprised when he took two steps into the opera house and was immediately intercepted by one of the managers. Firmin stood before him, still as a statue and just as mute. It was clear, however, that he was there to prevent him from entering further.

After a few moments, it also became clear that he was not going to find the strength to speak without prompting.

"Yes, Firmin?"

The manager blinked rapidly but did not respond. He was sweating profusely.

Raoul glanced around trying to locate Andre, thinking that perhaps having his counterpart would calm him enough to urge him to speak. The other manager was nowhere to be seen though, and Raoul was ready to simply walk around him. He had neither the patience nor the time for this.

Luckily, Firmin found his voice. "A message from the opera ghost."

"I presumed as much," he retorted. Raoul wanted to feel badly for him, but there were more pressing issues to be concerned with. "What is it? A note?"

"A note," Firmin said at the same time. He held it out but pulled it away before he could take it.

Raoul was quickly becoming annoyed at the presumptuousness of these people to keep doing so to him and would have been angrier if he did not concede that there was a good reason why they kept pulling the notes away. It was annoying nonetheless. It was not as though he could reveal that this particular note had presented the perfect opportunity to find Erik. Therefore, he would not be destroying it.

Firmin did manage to surprise him by saying, "You must read it in Box 5."

Raoul nodded impatiently and held his hand out. "I shall."

"Please go. He swore…" Firmin stopped suddenly, surprised by his acquiescence. "You will go?"

Hand still held out, Raoul nodded. "Yes."

"To Box 5?"

He nodded again.

"And I will escort you?" The words were more question than statement and Firmin gripped the note tighter to himself.

Raoul sighed, seeing that the other man was not going to trust him with the note. He finally dropped his hand. "If you must."

Firmin turned heel and began walking briskly through the hallways, and Raoul was glad he was as eager to finish his duties as messenger as Raoul was to be rid of him.

"I am," Firmin searched his mind for the proper words, "to prevent the others from bothering you."

"How very thoughtful," Raoul blithely commented mostly to himself.

"And you will read the note?" Firmin was still waiting for a sign of refusal, looking over his shoulder often enough to make certain he was still there that Raoul was beginning to wonder if he was going to run into a wall. He also wondered just how the opera ghost had threatened the manager to have him in such a state.

Realizing that he was actually waiting for a response, Raoul shrugged noncommittally. He would perhaps read the note this time. Maybe the apology he had long since expected was contained within these messages.

Only when they stood outside of Box 5 did Firmin finally hold the note out once more. "Please do not destroy this one."

Raoul took it from his shaking hands and entered the box. To his surprise Erik was not there waiting. The theatre was empty. Only a ghost light at the center of the stage was present while several lamps illuminated the box just enough to be able to read.

Staring at the note, he could not believe he was going to give into his curiosity. He had not forgiven Erik with just Madame Giry's observation, but by this point, it felt less of a concession than it would have been in the beginning. After so much doubt, he had somehow found hope again. There was a beacon in the darkness and this small scrap of paper was going to help him decide.

He held his breath, disappointed that his own hands were a bit unsteady as he broke the seal. Slowly, he flipped the note open, unfolding the cream paper. He exhaled sharply and turned the note over in his hands, over and over again.

A surprised bark of laughter came out, and hopes that had been hinged upon the words that lay within the note crumpled as his hand clenched tightly and crushed the paper into an unrecognizable ball. He stared at it, not in confusion, but in all-too-familiar anger.

It had been blank.

Letting it fall to the ground, he turned and was about to storm out of the box when he nearly ran into someone.

Erik huffed a laugh. "You would choose to read that note."

The fondness in his tone actually made Raoul pause before he remembered himself. "Erik," he growled. "What is this?"

The masked man reached out and surprisingly, Raoul flinched, taking several steps away from him. The very thought of Erik's touch still made him cringe; he had not been expecting that strong of a revulsion considering his previous anticipation of this meeting.

Erik stared at his hand for a moment then at Raoul, not quite meeting his eyes. "You weren't actually supposed to read that."

"Really?" Raoul retorted and he hated how calm the other man always was when they were arguing. "Then perhaps we should review the purpose of a note sent specifically to a person."

Despite his tone, Erik was more interested than defensive when he asked, "Why did you not tear it up like the others?"

Raoul refused to be derailed from the more salient point of what was happening. "So, all along these notes were nothing?"

Erik shook his head and met his eyes then. "No," he stated simply. There were no forthcoming excuses, no attempts to explain himself, and Raoul wondered if he was ever going to be able to trust him again, even for something as simple as notes.

"Just empty letters?" Raoul pressed, "An attempt to fool me into thinking you wished to speak with me."

"You know," Erik said chidingly, "that I have wanted to speak with you from the very beginning. I was not the one who refused to speak."

Raoul clenched his fists at the patronizing tone. "So they were all blank."

"No," Erik repeated and annoyance was finally creeping into his tone. "Just this one."

"Just this one," Raoul parroted, scoffing. "Just this one, of course. Has this all been sport for you?"

"Hardly." Erik scowled then.

Distantly, Raoul hoped he had managed to offend him with that suggestion. It was cruel, he knew, especially when Erik undoubtedly, in his own way, loved him, but a piece of him was pleased that questioning the masked man's affection would garner a reaction. It was only fair. "Then what was the meaning of that?" He gestured toward the ground.

"The message was to bring you here," he said as though it were obvious.

"And the others?"

Erik snapped, "Well, if you hadn't destroyed them all, you would know. Would you not?"

They stared at each other then. Raoul was breathing hard and his fingers ached from his clenched fists. He shook his head and thought to himself, she was wrong. There had been no change; he had been wrong to return.

Raoul elbowed past him, touching him as little as necessary and exited into the hallway. Erik was quick to follow him and Raoul still could not understand from where such disregard for his own safety came. That was the only reason he stopped where he was and put a hand on Erik's chest to stop him as well.

Erik immediately placed a hand over his to keep it there and Raoul stared at that small touch before shaking his head and pulling away.

He cradled his hand to his chest before looking up and down the hallway. It was empty. Perhaps Firmin was doing his job by keeping the others away.

It was difficult to return his focus on Erik to admit, "I cannot. I was wrong. I've been wrong this entire time."

"Raoul," Erik reached forward.

"No!" Raoul shouted, surprising both of them. "Do not touch me."

Erik grit his teeth, his lips pressed together as he stepped back, bringing his arms to his sides with some effort.

They stood in silence. Raoul tucked his hands under crossed arms; his eyes focused on the ground. Erik just frowned, staring at him, unhappy that he actually felt further from the young man at this moment than he had been these past weeks.

There was a way to fix this. Erik simply could not figure out how. Nothing he had done so far worked and he knew that at any moment, Raoul would walk away from him and Erik would not be able to touch him unless he wanted that pained look to be thrown his direction, unless he wanted Raoul to collapse within himself, somehow losing that vitality that made him the man Erik loved. He felt a surge of protectiveness whenever he saw that look. The only problem was that he was the cause of it. That alone was enough to prompt him to adjust his plans and even consider revealing his true motives despite his better judgment.

Then, Raoul turned a shoulder. It could have easily been him shifting on his feet as it could have been him turning to leave and disappear from his life forever.

Erik blurted out, "I was going to kidnap you."

There was a pause where Raoul frowned and tried to make sense of his words. He looked up but before speaking realized they were in the open still, in the middle of a hallway where anyone could happen upon them despite Firmin's directive to give them privacy. He took a deep breath to steel himself and consider his options before willingly walking back into Box 5 where they would be in close quarters.

The masked man had barely entered the box before Raoul asked, "What?"

"The note," Erik explained. "It was a ruse so Firmin would lead you to a place of isolation, and even if you had torn the note, you would be alone. At which point, I would have kidnapped you."

Raoul was certain he was telling the truth, if only because Erik sounded convinced that his plan could be considered completely reasonable, and he was glad that the older man maintained the distance between them.

"Why?" He watched Erik's expressions change from thought to anger.

"Do not listen to Madame Giry," he said vehemently; her name came out sounding as though it were a curse. "Do not leave."

Raoul realized then that to Erik, the plan was reasonable. "You were going to force me to stay."

"I was going to talk some sense into you." He crossed his own arms then.

Raoul stayed silent, staring at him.

Erik waited for the fall out, for the anger that was sure to follow. He was surprised when Raoul asked, "Then what?"

"Excuse me?"

"Had you succeeded," Raoul asked, "what would you have done with me?"

Erik gave the tiniest of shrugs. "Kept you with me forever."

"Even if I didn't want to," Raoul pressed.

"You love me. Why wouldn't you want to?" He knew that was not what Raoul wanted to hear because the young man took a step backwards closer to the edge of the balcony.

Instead of refuting the claim, Raoul said, "Not all people in love should remain so and even fewer should stay together."

That response was worse than an outright denial. He balked, "Not you and I. You need to stop running away, running away from us, from me."

"I needed time to think." Raoul hated how their thoughts had somehow managed to run along the same lines. "I still do."

He looked unconvinced. "Can you not think here?"

"No," Raoul shouted. "No! If I could think here, we would already know what was going on between us. You…" He shook his head. "Why do you love me?"

The question was not requesting an explanation, a delineation of things Erik loved about Raoul or how it had happened. It was a question asking why it had to be him, as though it were a misfortune, and Erik looked away, his frown deepening.

Raoul continued despite seeing it, unwilling to be moved, "I ask myself. Why am I here? I ask myself this constantly. Why do I let myself linger on you when you've hurt me time and again?" He hastily lifted up his sleeves and remnants from that time when Erik welcomed him into his home only to punish him for visiting were faded memories upon his skin. "What is wrong with me that I would willingly put myself in a situation where I am so obviously unhappy?"

Erik wanted to ask him, and were you really unhappy, but all that came out was "And?"

"And what?" Raoul asked, knowing he was being unfair because he had not always been this conflicted.

He swallowed before speaking, barely managing to tamp down his own ire and frustrations. "You must've come to conclusion. Is that not why you raced here?"

Raoul hunched over, arms still crossed and he looked smaller then. Perhaps that was where the problem lay, he thought, not entirely with Erik but with himself for not being able to come to a conclusion. "I know you do not want Christine."

"No," Erik confirmed. "She does not make me happy."

"She doesn't make you happy?"

And Erik hated that doubt was clear in his voice.

"But can I even claim such a feat?" Raoul continued. He found that he could not return to the person he had once been, neither before the Incident nor before Erik. He so desperately tried because he did not know himself any longer, did not like who he had become. It was clear now though that his was not the only life that had been miserable these past weeks.

Even Erik did not try to deny it. "I still want you. I still need you." He took a step closer despite the fact that Raoul tensed. "I hate when we are apart, have hated every second I could not be with you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. I have never stopped loving you."

Raoul could not help but wonder how this man with all his flaws and social inadequacies could say that word so easily, when he himself could not. He might have once. It had been easy to say I love you to Christine. He had meant it then but refused to say it again without the same vehemence behind the words, but this thing between him and Erik, was that really love?

"I will never stop loving you," Erik reiterated.

Fooled by Raoul's stillness, he reached out to touch his arm, but Raoul lashed out, slapping his hand away. The smack seemed to echo in the empty theatre.

"Don't you see…?" He shook his head. "We don't. I don't. God, I'll only get hurt," Raoul finally admitted.

Erik grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him forward, a manic grin in place when he said, "Then hurt me first."

He shook him violently and all Raoul could think was to get away. He could not bear the feel of Erik's hands on him, not when they had touched her. His skin crawled, his stomach churned, and his chest ached. He flailed and all he felt was dirty.

His hands scrabbled to make Erik release him, but the masked man gripped his jacket tighter and shook him harder. They knocked over several chairs as they barely managed to stay on their feet. Erik looked wild then; there was no composure, none of that calm confidence in the outcome he was certain would come to pass. Raoul had a quick moment and humourlessly thought, it must be love to have somehow managed to reduce the unflappable opera ghost to this. He took it all in before they stumbled backwards towards the entrance of the box.

Swinging his fist blindly, he managed to connect solidly with Erik's jaw, hard enough that he was finally released. They both stumbled and fell onto the floor from the separation, panting from the exertion. They were close but not touching. Their clothes were in disarray and they ached from something other than their rent emotions.

Raoul pushed the hair from his face as he slumped against the balcony wall. Erik fixed his mask and wig deliberately before turning to face him, choosing to remain on the floor an arm's distance beside him.

"This." Raoul pointed between them. "This does not make us even. This is not what I want us to be. We cannot simply hurt each other."

"You do not want to hurt," Erik pointed out slowly. "Neither yourself nor me."

Raoul glared at him. "Why would I want to hurt you…?" He hesitated before adding, "Now?" There had been a time, he remembered, when he had wanted to hurt the opera ghost, when he had a love he would have fought for. That errant thought shamed him a bit. It had been different then. He had been different then.

Erik muttered to the floor, "I have never wanted to harm you." His back was bowed and his head down. It was a confession wrenched from a set of truths Raoul supposed Erik never thought he needed to say.

And Raoul was disappointed that he believed him. "I know that. That's not…"

"But I have," Erik interrupted.

Raoul paused. He almost could not believe Erik admitted it.

The older man moved to his knees. He lifted a hand, reaching towards Raoul's knee and Raoul watched with dull fascination, not certain how either of them would react, much less himself, if he did hazard to touch him again, but the masked man stopped himself.

The light caught his face, casting a shadow that seemed to spread where the bruising from Raoul's punch would sure to be in a few hours. Erik's hand dropped and his fingers grazed Raoul's shoes in a touch so gentle he would not have noticed it had he not been watching the motion so raptly.

Raoul ducked his head. This was not what he had hoped would happen. He had wanted to see Erik and somehow just… just forgive him, trust him again, as though trust were a candle he could just light in an instant. Could it not be that simple? He knew the answer to that question though. No. Obviously, it could never be that simple. And yet…

He looked up in time to see Erik rise to his feet slowly.

Before he left the box, Raoul asked, "You are not going to kidnap me?" He wished he could ignored the disappointment he heard in his own voice. If Erik kidnapped him, then at least then the decision would be taken out of his hands.

He considered it, truly considered it and Raoul was almost certain he was going to change his mind about leaving, but he shook his head.

"You know that I…" Raoul said suddenly and did not know how he was going to finish that sentence.

"You have planned a trip out of Paris," Erik finished for him.

"You saw." Of course he had. "And you are still letting me go?" Raoul was not trying to trap him and he knew the question was unfair because what could Erik say that would not somehow disappoint him? Yet, their future somehow depended on this one answer.

He was not disappointed because Erik's jaw clenched before he shook his head mutely.

No, he was not letting him go.

Raoul stared at the ground between them confused by his own relief. "Tomorrow," he said impulsively. Erik was not going to let him go and instead of hatred, he felt comfort at the thought. That was a change in the pattern. "I cannot…" He looked at the shoe Erik had touched. "Talk. Can we talk?"

"About?"

Raoul shook his head unable to look him in the eye still. "Does it matter? Maybe we can figure out how to make each other something other than miserable."

Erik looked about to refute that statement, to say that they had been perfectly happy before he kissed Christine. Instead, he nodded slowly. "You are staying."

"I am." Raoul had a sinking feeling that Erik would get the wrong idea, that somehow he would think violence between them had somehow fixed the distance that had come from their argument. Although he knew that their scuffle had not been the solution, he could not fully explain what had changed. The opera ghost was finally trying to compromise and Raoul was not going to let him be the only one fighting for their relationship.

Erik's lips were pressed tightly together. He was not smiling and Raoul supposed that was a victory too because he knew Erik understood that a truce between them did not presuppose the outcome.

As an afterthought, he said, "Stop harassing the others."

Erik glanced at him then and a shadow of the mischievous confidence spilled through his somber expression. "Tomorrow. Come to my home."

Raoul did not bother to address the fact that he had not agreed to stop harassing the others. "Your home?" he asked tentatively. He was unsure if going there would be wise. Erik could always reconsider kidnapping him and he would have made it that much easier. However, the other man had shown that he would be willing to let Raoul go, and Raoul was going to prove that he was willing to stay despite how far forgiveness seemed on the horizon.

"Listen to me play." Erik stood straighter. "We can talk if you find a moment to."

Raoul nodded. "Tomorrow."

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to this morning. It seemed so long ago already. So much had happened, but the sunrise on his balcony and the cold that had grounded him then were clear in his mind. He knew if he stared long enough, his vision would blur and the distance between here and some point on the horizon simply vanished.

When he opened his eyes, it was just in time to see Erik's diminishing shadow tremble from a flickering candle.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 10

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: Is that an end? It is. Nothing's very happy-go-lucky but in Gallery Piece, you know that it does get better. It's something at all that they've decided to stop avoiding each other. Maybe all Raoul really did need was to see Erik fall apart, to have a moment where they're somehow on equal ground and surprisingly, equal ground is basically them at each other's throats and on the floor of Box 5, tearing each other down just so that when they try to build themselves up again, Raoul can learn to trust Erik.