I. The Strength to try

Raoul was up early the next morning, long before Christine, who hardly stirred when he got up. Yet still the Phantom beat him to the bathroom.

His rival was already dressed, Raoul saw, in his usual black trousers, probably the same he had worn the day before, but he had exchanged his dark blue shirt for a loose-fitting white one, just like Raoul used to wear them. Somehow that was oddly disconcerting, wearing the same kind of shirts as the Phantom. Shaving in front of the bathroom mirror, his mask lying on the wash-basin, the Phantom hardly acknowledged Raoul's presence at all, only by a very slight inclination of his head.

Raoul scowled at him. Another day ruined. "I hope this is not my razor", he stated pointedly.

Turning around sharply, the Phantom at once stood facing him, and his eyes were piercing blue icicles. Despite his resolution not to wince, Raoul did just that, yet not because of the Phantom's unpleasantly scarred face, but because of the sharp blade suddenly held under his nose. It was not a proper razor, Raoul noted now, but a thin-bladed and very sharp-edged knife. "Does this look like your razor to you?" the Phantom drawled.

Raoul swallowed, but regained his composure pretty quickly. "No, luckily not. Point that thing somewhere else."

"I won't let you detain me, don't worry", the Phantom answered lightly, the tone of contempt rather obvious in his voice.

"What are you doing up here, anyway? There's a bathroom on the first floor as well."

"Yes, and the first floor is swarming with servants already, just as the ground floor. Any more stupid questions?"

Raoul sighed, grinding his teeth. That was definitely a point. "Right, get finished here and come to my room", he said, then went to fetch a bowl of water to do the necessary washing somewhere else.

Later on, when heading downstairs to see if there truly were as many servants around as the Phantom had claimed – in fact there was just one single maid busy on the first floor, but still, even one maid was one too many as far as the Phantom was concerned – he encountered the butler on the stairs. With nothing more than a curt nod, he wanted to pass the man by, yet the butler stopped him, bowing, yet wearing a smile altogether too unpleasant to be allowed, and handed him a letter. Raoul studied it closer as he made his way down to the living room. It was addressed to him in a large, flowing hand he knew only too well.

Cursing under his breath, he opened the envelope and fished out a folded sheet of paper covered in the same handwriting. His heart sank down to the pit of his stomach. My dear son, he read, a sense of foreboding uncomfortably strong on his mind, I hope you are well, although you certainly do not deserve it. The news which have just reached me from a loyal person inside the city mansion are most disgraceful, and I must ask you to change your style of living immediately. Raoul swallowed. Oh my. I have learned that you not only claim to be engaged to a young woman, which is of course nonsense, since we have not been informed of any such thing, but that said young woman – under these circumstances, I refuse to call her a lady – does not only live under the same roof as you, but that you also let her sleep in your room. This is most indecent, and I forbid you to do any such thing in the future. Moreover, we will be coming to town next week, and if I find that indeed you have been behaving as I have been informed, you will have much to answer for. Mind your behaviour in the near future, for your own sake. Your loving Mother.

Loving mother! Indeed! Hurrying to the kitchen to deposit his orders for breakfast, and informing the cook that they would be eating up at his room, Raoul then returned to where he had started out from, snorting furiously. As if that bloody Créon was not enough! Why did his mother have to add to his troubles? Good grief, he was not a child anymore! And his mother might well mind her own business and behaviour, for a change!

Fuming, he stomped into his room and kicked the door shut behind him, brandishing the offending letter. "Today's a foul day", he stated, leaning against the door, as if he could keep out all his troubles this way.

Christine and Meg, both in dressing gowns, were sitting on the bed, frowning up at him. Christine seemed to be still in her nightdress under the flannel gown, while trouser legs stuck out from under the rim of Meg's. Raoul inwardly shook his head. Nothing against the girl, but she was beginning to carry it too far – even if she looked rather good in a man's clothes.

No, he shouldn't be thinking like this. He was engaged to Christine, after all.

"Bad news?" the Phantom asked lightly. He was leaning against the wall, and despite standing upright somehow managing to convey the sense of lounging. Still he was in his white shirt, not wearing a jacket to go with it, just like Raoul was doing currently, but his hair was brushed neatly back once more.

"My mother", Raoul replied curtly, shoving the letter into his pocket forcefully. And with a look at Christine, he added, "She hasn't changed one bit. Completely spoiled my day again."

"Oh dear", Christine said sympathetically. After all, she had seen several of his mother's fits of temper, many years ago. Luckily they had never been directed at her.

"What's wrong with your mother?" Meg asked.

Raoul grimaced. "She's a nightmare."

"Scared of your mother, are you?" At least the Phantom's remark was delivered not in that horrible jeering manner of his, but in a tone of slight mocking instead.

Still, he had better hold his tongue about Raoul's troubles, as he, in fact, formed a rather large part of them. "I wish you'd meet her", Raoul muttered, imagining his mother putting the Phantom firmly back in his place. It helped. "She'd give you a run for your money, pal."

"Sounds good", the Phantom stated sarcastically. "Make sure you introduce us, once the occasion allows it."

Raoul imagined this, too. "You know", he grinned, "that might actually be quite amusing."

They were interrupted by the cook's arrival, and the Phantom was sent to hide under the bed for a moment, and his things wandered into Raoul's cupboard, while two maids brought in several large trays containing all of Raoul's breakfast favourites, strictly supervised by the cook, and laid out Raoul's desk as breakfast table. The cook did not quite seem to approve, yet Raoul did not care. She could look as disapproving as she wanted, but at least he could be sure that it was not her who had informed his mother of what was going on between him and Christine.

When they were alone again, and the Phantom had crawled back out from under the bed, brushing himself off while Meg giggled, they all settled around Raoul's desk. Since the room did not only contain an additional chair, but also a little couch, this was, in fact, quite easy. Raoul made sure that the Phantom did not sit on the couch with Christine, but to his great surprise, he never even tried to. While the girls took the couch, Raoul was given the pleasure of sitting beside the Phantom, opposite them. Again, it was quite easy to ensure that he himself sat opposite Christine.

As he cast his neighbour a sideward glance of suspicion while shoving an additional plate and some cutlery over at him – somehow he did not like the idea of cutlery, or any pointy devices, in the Phantom's hands –, he suddenly noticed a rather interesting red mark at the side of the Phantom's neck, quite similar to that the villain had had the audacity to leave on Christine's. So Meg seemed to have appreciated his company, after all.

Well, some women's tastes were definitely strange. But all the same, maybe it was better if he still kept an eye open as far as Meg was concerned.

But on the other hand… If the Phantom chose to busy himself with Meg, and if Meg gave her consent to his doing so, and even, as it seemed, encouraged him… then maybe he would stay away from Christine.

Maybe this day was not that bad, after all.

With newfound courage, Raoul speared a piece of fried bacon with his fork and beamed at Christine. "Not quite awake yet, my sweet?"

Christine gave him a tired, but loving little smile. "I haven't slept as much as I could have wished for." For an instant, her eyes flickered towards the Phantom, but it was too short a moment for Raoul to be certain.

"Well, you can get back to bed after breakfast, if you wish", Raoul announced. "And the same goes for you, Meg." It might have been a short night for her, whatever she had exactly been doing with her newfound sweetheart.

"Get back to bed?" Meg exclaimed, dropping her buttered bread roll onto her lap in surprise. Obviously it landed with the buttered side downwards, just like those things tended to do, as Raoul knew from his own experience, because she added, "Oh, damn!"

Immediately Christine started brushing at Meg's lap with a napkin, and Meg started brushing at the same time, which resulted in a slight chaos at the other side of the table. Raoul bit back a snicker. It would not be polite to laugh at something like that.

The Phantom, however, once again proved that he had no manners, because he chuckled quite shamelessly and did not even stop when Meg stabbed at him with her fork.

"Sorry", Raoul said, just in case Meg was going to blame him for her little accident, but used the opportunity to snatch a few slices of cheese from the plate by the girls'. Surely Christine wouldn't mind if he had a helping, too.

"Never mind", Meg answered conciliatorily, but added, with a glare at the Phantom, "I wish I had a great big toasting fork."

"I can arrange that", Raoul grinned. A lovely image formed in his head, of Meg chasing the Phantom through the house with an enormous set of cutlery, and this time he was tried quite hard not to snicker.

"Oh, Raoul!" Christine cried suddenly. "You can't put mustard on this!"

Raoul frowned, a spoonful of mustard poised above his plate. "Why not?"

"Because mustard isn't meant to be put on cheese sandwiches!"

"Who says?" Raoul protested. Yes, his mother said that, too. But he liked mustard on cheese sandwiches! Oh, his bloody mother, and the bloody Phantom, and the bloody, bloody Lost Ones!

Besides, they were distracting him from what he had really wanted to tell them. After all, plans had to be made for today. And it was best when the girls learned as early as possible where their places would be: back home, sitting safely in the living room in front of the fireplace, spending a pleasant, quiet day.

But before he could say anything else, there came a knock at the door, and the cook poked her head in. "Excuse me, but there is a lady at the door, a Madame Giry, and there are three men with her, and she says that she needs to see you immediately." She frowned at this; Raoul knew that she didn't like anyone else to be stern and order others around.

"Show her in, please", Raoul answered straight away. "Right up to my room." And as he noticed how the cook's eyes wandered towards the Phantom, he added, "Let him be my problem."

"I guess I am", the Phantom muttered, as the cook retreated, and Raoul had to smile at that, though he hurriedly added an agonized roll of his eyes, just on general principle.

"Do you think there is something wrong?" Meg asked worriedly. "I mean, why else would my mother come?"

"And that early in the morning?" Christine added.

Raoul pulled his watch from his pocket and gave it a quick glance. "It's not early, darling", he chuckled, "it's going on ten o'clock."

"All the same, Raoul. Opera people stay up late and get up again late, so that's early." Christine flashed him one of those bright smiles that could make his insides all warm and fluffy. "You'll be used to something else, probably."

"That's right. No chance for a nice long sleep in the navy." Once he had gotten into trouble for sleeping over, and he had absolutely not wanted to repeat this mistake.

Soon the cook returned with Madame Giry, and Raoul wondered what expression the butler must be wearing now, as his duty was taken from him, and, as Raoul guessed, without explanation. He only hoped the man would not give him any more trouble over it. Oh, that bloody Phantom, indeed! As soon as he turned up, he upset everything!

Greetings were exchanged quickly and, in Madame Giry's case, in a no-nonsense voice. There seemed to be something serious on her mind, Raoul observed, for she hardly bothered with frowning at Meg's attire. Then the mistress of ballet waved three men in and closed the door behind them. Raoul cast them a quick glance and decided that he had never seen them before, but Christine gave a soft gasp at their sight. Surprised, Raoul sought to meet her gaze, but she was looking at the Phantom, for some reason, and the Phantom gave her a short nod, the meaning of which did not become quite clear to Raoul.

All three of those men were in their early thirties, it seemed, and they appeared, from the way they were dressed, simple, yet neat. One, his stance conveying strength as well as calm, had dark chestnut curls, another beside him had lighter brown hair, and an uncertain little smile. The third was a slim, pale fellow, yet with hair almost black, and the expression he wore was oddly lost, as if his thoughts had already taken him somewhere else when passing through the door.

As one, the men's gazes travelled towards where the Phantom was standing, one shoulder to the wall and facing them, looking as cold and distant as ever, and although he was not wearing his black cloak now, just as lordly. Nothing about him revealed that he had until a moment ago been busy tackling fried bacon and scrambled eggs. While the dreamy-faced one just regarded him with what seemed to be horrid fascination, the other two exchanged a glance. Then the curly-haired one stepped forth and dropped to one knee. "My Lord Phantom." The other followed his example and murmured the same, yet added, "How may we serve you?" And after some hesitation, their pale companion did the same, but what he whispered under his breath Raoul did not quite understand.

The Phantom observed them coldly, and if he was surprised – as Raoul strongly assumed – he did not show it. There rather was suspicion in his gaze as he mustered them. Then he met Madame Giry's eyes, and she smiled encouragingly and nodded at him, with a little gesture in the men's direction. He still looked doubtful, though; Raoul saw one corner of his mouth twitch slightly as he eyed the three kneeling men once again. Only when Madame Giry repeated her gesture did he truly react to them in any way.

He addressed the curly-haired one, his voice cool and not displaying any emotions. "Why would you kneel, Serge? It is not like you."

The man raised his head to meet the Phantom's gaze. His eyes were surprisingly green, of a strange, smoky tone, without blue in it. "No, my Lord, I do not kneel to others. But I pledged myself to you. We all did." For him, this seemed to be explanation enough; a pledge once made clearly was a duty he would follow.

"My Lord Phantom?" This was the one with the lighter hair. He seemed almost anxious… anxious to please. "We – that is, I – said to the one who led us out of the cellars, where we had been captives, that you were our… liege-lord." Clearly the word was unfamiliar to him, yet not the concept of serving another man. Somehow, he seemed to be quite at home with his current position. "Serge and I regard this statement as binding. And moreover, you are the only one who can protect us from… that threat, if you don't mind my saying so, my Lord." This time, he squirmed under the Phantom's gaze. "And the only one who can still save Claude."

"They still have him", Christine whispered from behind, and Raoul winced at how loud her soft voice suddenly seemed in the heavy silence. "They had those three, and two more. One they killed. Three escaped. One is still down there."

The Phantom nodded slowly. "The carpenter? Yes, for all I know, he is still down there."

Raoul had to prevent his jaw from dropping. How did the Phantom want to know? And, most of all, how did Christine know? Why did she know anything about this? What was really going on here? "So this Créon has been holding you prisoners, and you got away?" he asked. "And another is still with him?"

All eyes swivelled over to him. "Yes, monsieur", the one with the lightest hair replied.

"And one is dead", the man with the curly hair – Serge, as it seemed – added quietly.

Three here, one dead, one still down there in those catacombs – how could Christine possibly have known?

There were two men involved in their escape", Madame Giry spoke up. "One led them up from the cellars, while the other alerted me. They were both Hungarian, as it seemed, and uncle and nephew. The names they gave were Lászlo and Sándor, yet I don't know if they have any other. They seem to serve one of… those men, but one not entirely loyal to Créon."

"One – Sándor, that is – claimed they could communicate with him through their thoughts or something, my Lord", the second to speak added. "And he claims his lord learned it from you. They are both blond; they stood out from those others serving them we saw down there –"

"That makes their lord Aeternus", the Phantom interrupted.

"The one with the… glove?" Madame Giry inquired.

"Exactly." The Phantom frowned darkly. "I learned something from him as well. But that he says he learned that from me…" His gaze wandered towards Christine, who met his eyes uncertainly. "I don't like it", he finished grimly.

"Do you think we can trust him?" the ballet instructor asked.

"I wouldn't risk my life for it. For all we know, it might be a trap."

She nodded. "Just as I thought."

"What did they want with you, anyway?" Raoul burst out, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

"Me", the Phantom answered, instead of one of the three. "Créon wanted them to get at me."

"But you are strong enough to face him now", Christine interjected quietly, and Raoul turned to regard her with surprise.

He answered her gaze doubtfully. "Him maybe. But all of them?"

"There is something this Aeternus wants you to know", Madame Giry put in before Christine had the time to reply. "A piece of advice, I think. He had one of his men tell me that you wouldn't stand any chance as long as you faced them all at once. And the stress lay on all at once. I think he wants you to know that you must face them –"

"One after the other", the Phantom finished for her. "This was the very idea I had, to deal with them one by one." What entered his gaze made a shiver run over Raoul's back. There was murder in his eyes. "But still, I can't be sure, even about that."

Once again it was Christine who spoke up gently. "But you are strong enough to try."

He looked at her, and at once there was tenderness in his eyes. "I must be. And for your sake, I will be." Then he turned to the three kneeling men again. "Rise, and tell me your story. With every detail I need to know."