Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Post-POTO. A bit of R/C (yeah). General discontent runs through the characters as they are forced to adjust their views of happily ever after. I guess a bit of E/C as well (but that's usually unavoidable)

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I don't know why this was actually difficult for me to write. The story's in my head; it simply refuses to be written. D: But we're reaching the final stretch (that might be why; I always get a little weird when a fic's ending).

Story Note: It's a little awkward because I currently refuse to give any OCs names, downright refuse for some reason (if you didn't notice or else I would've given the girl a name). So please bear with me that they're called gardener and butler and the like.

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Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 25 - … to panic

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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The sound of a door slamming roused Erik from his sleep, jerking awake in the seat. Looking around the room in confusion, he briefly wondered if he'd simply imagined the sound. Moaning, he raised a hand to his face, confused when he realized he wasn't wearing his mask. It was lying on the bed. Erik stared at it suspiciously; he didn't remember taking it off. However, he also didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point.

Standing up, he stretched his neck and back. They were sore from his position on the chair. He yawned and shielded his eyes against the morning light. He hadn't slept that easily in a while – ever since he left Raoul, if he let himself think about details like that, but he didn't. If he'd fallen asleep, Raoul must have as well. He silently made his way across the room, endeavoring to not wake him before he wanted to. He leant over to look at the other side of the bed, and Raoul wasn't there.

Erik straightened and scanned the room once more. Nothing was out of place. The desk was still in front of the door and his papers on it. The dresser was closed; the chair where he'd left it. In fact, the only thing different from when he'd fallen asleep was his mask being on the bed.

Erik suddenly knew with frightening clarity that given the opportunity, Raoul would run from him again. He might climb another tree or do something just as foolish and dangerous. Erik forced himself to remain calm when his thoughts were battered with the fact that Raoul had nearly died yesterday. No one without some kind of death wish climbed a tree that high. Raoul hadn't even spoken a single word to him before running away.

Stopping that train of thought, he convinced himself that there had to be a logical explanation why Raoul was no longer in the room. It was simply the book affecting his judgment. Yet, everything so far seemed to fit – close enough that it was worrisome. Raoul must have just taken his mask off and then slipped out to sleep in his own room. Of course, why would Raoul want to sleep on the floor? Erik picked up his mask en route to Raoul's room but didn't put it on. There was no need anymore, and he was almost glad Raoul had been the one to take it off for him. It seemed fitting in some way.

Opening the door, he paused halfway through the doorway. He let out a deep breath through clenched teeth. His heart was beating erratically. Raoul wasn't in his room. The bed was already made, almost as though no one had slept in it at all. He frowned, shutting his eyes as he told himself once more that there was a logical explanation for Raoul's continued absence. He must be eating breakfast already, and while that was plausible, it wasn't enough to appease him. What disturbed Erik more was the fact that he hadn't heard Raoul moving about at all. Raoul shouldn't have been able to leave the room without him noticing.

The door opened and Erik whipped around, "Where do you think…?" His question trailed off when he saw the butler instead of Raoul.

"Monsieur Erik."

Erik only wanted to know one thing. "Where's Raoul?" He could swear that the butler almost smirked.

"Do you know," the man said, leaving the doorway to pick up some clothes that had been left on the sidetable, "that you're the second person this very morning to ask that question?"

It took a second before Erik connected the noise that woken him to the butler's seemingly innocuous question before he was shouldering past the older man, rushing down the stairs to the front door. There had been a visitor this morning, someone looking for Raoul, and Erik could only think of one person that would do so. The woman from yesterday. If Raoul left with that woman, Erik didn't think he would be able to restrain himself from physically harming either Raoul or her. If he'd left knowing that Erik was still sleeping… Erik almost yelled in frustration. Forget worrying about the Raoul's health, Erik was going to be the cause of those injuries.

"Monsieur," the butler chased after him, regretting his choice words.

Erik flung the front door open, managing to surprise the gardener and the driver who were just outside. The gardener was by the bushes that lined the building while the driver stood by the carriage that had taken Erik away from this place, cleaning it.

"Where is she?" Erik directed his attention fully on the driver, already knowing the man would give him direct answers.

The driver glared at Erik before replying, "Who?"

"That whore who came here," Erik spat out, "Where did they go?"

The driver cast a glance behind Erik; Erik followed his gaze. The butler stood behind him, his expression blank although he was a little out of breath now. "I had to inform the young lady," he emphasized, "that the Vicomte had asked that they no longer meet. He would no longer make any further appointments."

Erik couldn't help but grin; he hated to admit that he even relaxed at hearing him say so. "Good."

"I wouldn't be talking if I were you," the driver muttered.

Erik was about to confront him when the butler spoke.

"He also told me," he cleared his throat, waiting for Erik to stop glaring at the driver and to give him his full attention. Only when Erik did so did he continue, "to tell you that you may stay here as long as you wish."

Erik momentarily forgot his anger. "What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" The driver retorted. "He's not here anymore."

Erik took a threatening step towards him, and the other man simply stood there. Wondering if he was losing his touch, Erik's hands itched for a Punjab lasso. He wouldn't have any qualms killing this man. Alright, perhaps he would since Raoul would hardly approve and might never speak to him again if he did kill any of his servants. The blonde might be spiteful enough to do so; he simply cared too much about them. Erik hated how he was so certain of that truth. Apparently, the servants were higher in Raoul's regard than he was, and after everything they'd been through with each other. Erik was once more tempted to kill the driver.

Instead, he asked pointedly to him, "Well, if he's not here, where is he?"

The driver looked away with a scowl.

Erik scoffed. "You don't know," he said. He would have further mocked him if it weren't for the fact that he didn't know either. Turning his attention back to the butler, Erik could only assume that this man knew. "Well, where is he?" He asked impatiently. The longer time they spent talking here, the more time he wasted apart from Raoul.

"He didn't say where he was going."

Erik looked at him incredulously. He glanced at the house and knew that if Raoul had been inside, they would have known. They also would have told him. These men weren't liars; they were like the Vicomte, honest to a fault. They might not be liars, but perhaps they could be poorly informed. Not willing to accept that Raoul was gone, he headed towards their grove.

"He's not there either," the butler's voice stopped him.

"Where do you think…?"

"You're going?" The butler finished.

"We checked the entire estate," the gardener said, sharing a look with the driver. "The entire estate."

Erik clenched his hands into fists. He needed to think, but Paris was a big place. If Raoul had left with the intention of leaving, Erik didn't know how it would be possible to find him. There was always a chance if Raoul had stayed in the city but if he'd gone farther. If he'd left… Erik didn't even want to think of that possibility. He had to be somewhere on the estate.

"I watched him ride away."

"What?" Erik turned to face the butler and noted that even the gardener and the driver were surprised at the declaration.

"How else would he have given me the message if I hadn't watched him leave?" The man asked reasonably.

Erik wasn't feeling very reasonable right now. He closed the distance between them and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. "Then tell me where he went," he used his free hand to lightly grab the man by his throat, the threat of tightening his grasp clear.

The gardener and driver were upon him in an instant. The gardener trying to pry his hands away while the driver pulled him bodily back. Erik's arms were pinned behind him as he was wrestled to the floor. Breathing deeply with his face in the dirt, Erik tried to calm down. He hadn't struggled against them, hadn't seen the point. He hadn't planned on killing the butler; he'd simply wanted information.

"That was too familiar," the driver ground out.

Erik had forgotten that the driver had been there when he'd left. I was indeed too familiar. Closing his eyes, he let his body go lax. They released him shortly after.

The butler had smoothed down his clothes and was once again in impeccable form when he said, "He didn't tell me. I do believe he thought it would be dangerous for me to know," he added pointedly. "Or, he didn't know himself. He didn't seem himself."

The driver rolled his eyes, "He hasn't been himself lately." He received a disapproving look for that comment.

"He wouldn't have wanted us to worry," the gardener murmured to himself, taking several steps away from Erik to dust himself off.

"I don't believe you," Erik pushed himself off the ground. He stood up and looked disdainfully at all three of them.

"What's not to believe?" The driver was quick to come to the butler's defense even though he himself was more than a little annoyed at the man for not telling them such information. "You left him. Why does he need to tell you where he went?"

"I came back," Erik growled.

"For what reason?" The driver yelled.

"What?"

"You heard me," he said, lowering his voice with one look from the butler. "Why did you come back?"

"To," Erik faltered. Why had he come back? He couldn't say because he'd read a book where Gwynplaine returned to Dea. Even to him that was hardly a good reason. It wasn't a reason at all. He was here because he wanted to be here. Did there have to be any other reason besides wanting to? "To stay. I'm here to stay."

"Well, that's good," the driver scoffed. "Then we'll be seeing each other for a while. Too bad I doubt the Vicomte will return."

Erik scowled but didn't respond. He simply refused to accept that as an answer. Paris was big, France larger. He headed towards the stables with the butler and driver at his heels.

"Where do you think you're going?" The driver asked.

If he had to, Erik would search the entire continent for Raoul, but he hoped he wouldn't have to. "I'm going to find him. He couldn't have gotten that far."

He only stopped walking when one of them grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. He looked down at the offending hand before following it up to the face of the driver. "Do you want to lose that hand?"

The butler and he shared a look before the older man nodded. The driver responded, "I'm going with you."

o.o.o

Raoul had ridden through the night, pressing his favorite white horse as fast as it could go. He'd ridden fast enough that it had gotten cold, or perhaps it was simply the distance he'd travelled and his body was getting a little tired, an odd mixture of numb and sore. He just knew he couldn't stop.

He never should have stayed in Paris in the first place. He should've known that he was meant to leave. It had been there right in front of him. Leaving his estate had simply been a first step. The next obvious step would have been to leave the city.

It was his fault that he was suffering now. He should have realized that Erik would come back to mock him, to check on him, and to gloat. He'd even stayed exactly where he was so that it had been easier for the other man to find him. He'd been in their tree. He'd even run into their room in his panic. He had made it so easy for him.

Why did Erik have to come back to gloat? Why did he have to ruin everything that Raoul had finally managed to accomplish in his absence?

Erik had come back to see how poor, pathetic Raoul was faring.

Raoul felt ill just thinking about it.

Erik wanted to laugh at his inadequacies, laugh at how he couldn't even move on from a man who'd never given any indication that he felt any affection for him except perhaps tolerance. Erik had tolerated him and Raoul had fallen in love. He was truly pathetic; he knew that.

He laughed harshly and was glad when the wind carried it quickly away.

He'd managed to fall in love with another wrong person who he was almost certain was the right person this time. He could admit to being wrong the first time, being blinded by his past affection for her, but Erik had been different.

Raoul put one hand to his stomach.

There had been no pre-conceived notions between them – actually, there were but they'd all been rather damning. Yet, somehow, they'd worked. Together. They'd been compatible in ways that he'd never been with Christine and Erik's absence had eaten away at him in ways it hadn't with Christine, too. Of course, that had been because Erik had stopped that from occurring. He'd stopped Raoul's pain when Christine had left.

Raoul was forced to pull the reins roughly. His horse neighed discontentedly, rising on his hind legs before stopping. Dismounting quickly, Raoul fell to his knees before throwing up in the ditch. He sobbed, dry heaving for long moments before he was able to pull himself together. He gathered Erik's cloak about him, just kneeling in the dirt for a moment.

He'd been wrong again. He wasn't willing to be wrong about the same person twice.

Mounting the horse once more, Raoul spurred him onward. He was going to finally move on, and if that meant getting away from Paris or France completely, he would do it. He didn't want to cope. He didn't want to face anything or get better. He wanted to just forget everything and leave. This was the only way.

He could chase after other dreams now, just like he'd been attempting to do the whole time he'd been in Paris. Too bad those dreams had turned out to be nightmares. Now, he could do anything, and while that thought was exhilarating, Raoul didn't know he could feel so scared as well. He had a multitude of choices and felt sick to know he had no idea which one to pick.

o.o.o

Raoul didn't know how long he'd been travelling. He knew he'd slept on the forest floor several times already, but that hadn't been a hardship. The hardship had been the similar memories of falling asleep in their grove and then Raoul hadn't been able to sleep very much after that. He wished he'd brought something more than just a cloak and a horse with him, maybe a few francs would have been nice. He hadn't eaten and hadn't changed in days. He just kept moving without aim. That was, until a few hours ago. He'd just barely decided upon a destination, upon a new dream to chase, one that actually made sense this time. He'd been happy then.

So, with this new dream to chase, with this new resolve to leave everything of his old life behind, Raoul knew a place where he could stay, maybe for a little while, maybe forever. He wasn't quite certain just yet, but it was his next stop.

Raoul could feel the change in the air before he actually saw his cottage by the beach, before he heard the ocean. The air was cooler, the salt easily smelt; he could feel it in the air. He spurred his horse faster. He almost felt better just knowing that life here would be different. Even his hunger was subdued in his excitement.

He rode until he was at the ocean's edge, already having unclasped the robe and unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked off his shoes after dismounting the horse, leaving him only in his pants. He ran into the ocean unhesitatingly, diving under the incoming waves once he was far enough out. He wanted to swim out of his body, wanted to slough off his past and just keep swimming farther and farther away. Raoul tried his best just to do so. He kicked, propelling himself forward, cutting through the water and against the waves with brute force.

He slowed down only when he grew tired. Treading water, he tried to catch his breath while looking towards the horizon. He could swim farther, was almost tempted to do so if it hadn't been for the fact that he doubted he would be able to make it back.

He still hesitated for several seconds.

Shaking his head, he turned to start his swim back to the shore. He had barely made any progress when he realized with a spike of fear that he had overestimated his own energy. His limbs felt leaden and no matter how much he tried, he barely got any closer to shore. Struggling, he choked as he inadvertently swallowed mouthfuls of water. He was almost too afraid to duck his head underwater, unsure if he would be able to rise to the surface once more or if he would time it wrong so that the next wave would fall upon him preventing his next lungful of air. He floundered, desperation tempering all his movements, but he kept moving. He'd probably never swum so sloppily in his life, but it didn't matter.

When his feet finally hit sand, he almost cried out in joy. He stumbled, barely staying on his feet as he flung himself forward. His legs gave out beneath him while he was still waist deep into the water, but he was quick to recover. He wasn't ready to die just yet. Not when he'd finally found a way to move on.

Breathing heavily, he tried to convince his body that he wasn't on the verge of dying anymore. His heart was still pounding and he went into a coughing fit that brought him to his knees. He managed to clear his lungs, spitting out the salt water. When it was finally done, he turned over to fall to the sand boneless. He was exhausted and now hungrier than he thought possible. He'd have to find his horse and make it back to the cottage where he knew a skeleton staff would be. There was bound to be food.

He was sorely tempted but still couldn't bring himself to move. Closing his eyes, he let the sound of the waves relax him until his heart stopped racing. He'd stand up soon.

When someone blocked the sun, Raoul opened his eyes to stare at the darkened figure. Smiling, he thought himself lucky – maybe a servant had seen him and he wouldn't need to walk all that way to the cottage. However, when he discerned who stood there silently watching him, Raoul scrambled to his feet only to have them buckle beneath him again. At least it changed the angle they were looking at each other; he could now clearly see the man's face.

"Erik?" Maskless. Raoul was certain he wasn't hallucinating. He'd stopped believing Erik was dead when he'd taken off the man's mask in the room, when he'd touched the deformity again. Admittedly, if he could've, he would have still tried to run just to get as far away from this man as possible.

It didn't even make any sense. Raoul hadn't even known he was going to end up here.

Erik reached down and grabbing Raoul's throat said, "Don't ever do that to me again."

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End Chapter 25

Word count: 3,426

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: I swore to myself that I wasn't going to try to kill him, and it nearly happened – I actually had to rewrite that ending. Way too dramatic; Erik running into the ocean to save him – but that's not how it goes. Raoul finally finds a reason to live and then what happens? Erik shows up. Man, how the hell did Erik know? He has really horrible timing actually.