Note: My God, sincere apologies for the length of this one. I mean, that's pushing vignette. Sheesh. Hey, what can ya do? Anywho, yeah, I guess I am kind of cruel to Raoul... but would you rather me be nice and sappy, or completely butcher his character by making him evil!Raoul who completely goes bipolar and becomes a rapist just because Christine's got a crush on someone else? Poor fella. This fandom doesn't like him. S'like he doesn't have a home.

Real quick question: does anyone have any thoughts on the plausibility of a slash fic without too much angst or tragedy? anyone? anyone? Bueller? Thanks!

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15

Two days in the water, and Raoul's fears have flooded back to him. He hates the lake with every fiber in his being, hates it so much his throat swells with emotion, and he breathes hard enough to be heard on all sides of the lair, all the time, bruised face tilted to stare at the water. His skin is sponged and tightened with cold, and he grits his teeth, letting the chains ring together as he shifts. Escape. He has failed, again, and his useless effort has brought him to this. The realization has been here some time now, but he has not truly considered it before.

The real escape is around him. He is sitting in it. Raoul tests, wondering if he could go through with it. He dips into the water, and pulls up again. He still lacks the courage.

Erik, face marked with Raoul's desperate strike, a blackening bruise, seems to read his mind. Pale eyes study him, narrowed with still brewing anger. He watches, and by the way Raoul has drawn within himself, sinking slowly into the murky water, Erik has already discovered his prisoner's intentions. Vehemently he rises, and as his body uncoils from its crouch Raoul immediately jerks up out of the water, but Erik still marches toward him. Not a second passes until fingers prod at his bare upper body, and the chains are extricated, hard enough to leave more bruises.

Raoul lets Erik rip the last chain past the ball of his shoulder, and in that split second of Erik's vulnerability Raoul plows all of his strength into the other man. Water rushes cold over their heads, but Raoul knows that if he is not the first to hit the bank then Erik will again have the upper hand. He breaks the surface first, but Erik is never far behind, and hope sinks as hands are again rough on his biceps. He is pulled under, a furious Erik standing over him in the waist deep water, holding him below.

Raoul is drowning. He knows this, and as precious air still remains in his lungs he wonders whether or not to let himself be taken by the water, and the delicious blackness of an end. It is escape, an escape not even the Phantom can deny him. Before the pain stirs in his lungs, Erik pulls him back up, and instantly, against his will, Raoul drags in a gasp, scouring his throat. Erik fists his hair, and ropes an iron arm across his chest, holding him tight so Raoul cannot move out of his range.

"They have left you," he snarls, and Raoul pants, chest heaving more life into his lungs. "She has left you, she does not care, Vicomte," his lips move hotly against Raoul's ear, almost grazing. "Does that not make you long for death?" His words are spoken with a bottomless truth, and when Raoul is silent he shakes a response from him. Amidst the endless gasps and desperate, involuntary moans, Raoul hoarsely manages a very faint, almost inaudible reply. Erik yanks back on his hair. "What!"

"Yes," Raoul says, almost sobs as he tries to breathe, but before a decent spell of air can make it down his throat Erik forces him under again. The water rushes. He is surrounded by death, but this time he does not struggle. Fear triggers every instinct to revolt, but it takes courage to remain motionless. Courage Raoul knows is shaky at best, and he tries not to fight for his life. Above him, Erik's voice seems miles away, but the words, horrible words still reach his ears.

"They would have come for you by now," he is saying, pushing on the younger man's head and the crook of a thinning shoulder. Time is running out, and still Raoul resists every urge to struggle. He cannot fight. Erik will always win. "They have abandoned you to my darkness. There is no hope, Raoul," for the first time, he is called by name. The pain in his lungs seems almost more intense now, his body shrieking in a final call to survive. "No hope for anything. If you wish to die," Erik's voice has softened. It is difficult to hear now. The hand in his hair flattens out from its snarl, and holds down with gray intention. "I will help you do it. Death is the only solace from such agony, you and I know it well. I cannot deny you this last choice."

Raoul's arm jerks. His body wishes to fight for the surface, and his head swims, his lungs want to explode. The world darkens, and blurs together. Erik is beside him now, kneeling, his hardly above the waterline. Even in darkness, Raoul can hear his voice. Sweet and bitter salvation.

"If you want to die," he says. "Then die."

The chord snaps. There is a moment, so brief it can hardly be passed as an event, when Raoul attempts his own escape, but Erik does not allow it. Two choices lay before him: a moment more of pain, and then freedom of what is to come, a blackness, comfort.

A breath of air, and Raoul is a prisoner again. In cowardice and loathing, he realizes he cannot handle another moment of pain. The agony is too slow, and his resilience is not all he thought that it was. He cannot pull away from Erik. Ever the coward, he instead turns direction, and reaches out like a lost child, clinging half naked and freezing to Erik's shirt, fingers scrabbling to hold on to something. The weight causes Erik's falter, and they are both under now.

He screws his eyes shut, and waits to be pulled to safety, or die.

A second passes, two. Erik stops trying to drown him, and instead slides strong arms beneath his, and the strength that means to end Raoul's life now liberates him from the water. The younger man drags in gulps of air, though still pressed to the collar of Erik's shirt, and as he breaks away he brings shaking hangs up to hide his face in shame. Raoul cries, to himself, for reasons he cannot pinpoint. He cannot remember the last time he shed tears like this. Grief, exhaustion, relief, and fear.

Erik is unsure what to make of it, and says nothing while his prey attempts to compose himself. It is one of the single most soul-shaking sights he has ever witnessed, a man surrendered to his cowardice and finding no other release from such shame. Expressionless, Erik turns, and leaves it. He departs the lake. Raoul does as well, he hates the lake. He glares at it still, crawling from its belly and onto the bank.

When Raoul has found strength to stand, Erik faces him. "I have kept you alive," he says. "When all the rest of the world finds no worth in you to hope." He turns away again. "Remember that."