A/N: Sorry to leave our lovers for a moment, but other events are taking place back in Paris that deserve our attention as well. I didn't get to my explanation of Christine's stage name in this chapter after all, but it will come, along with much more EC fluff very soon.

For my comments on the EC physical intimacy dilemma, see my remarks to draegon-fire below.

darklady5289: I hear ya sister, but you are preaching to the choir.

phantomann: Oooooh goody! So nice to hear from you. No of course there won't be any more angst at all. Everyone will live happily ever after, I promise. (Feigns innocence.) I have been to the Piazzale Michelangelo, but I didn't get to see the gardens. They are real, though. I looked them up. Please, please, PLEASE hurry back.

Kagome1514: We should have a "biggest EC dork contest" or something. I bet the competition would be pretty fierce, however.

Hearts Aflame: A lifetime supply of sinful sweets for MEEE! Hurray! However, you might want to take them back after this chapter, so maybe you had better hold up that line of trucks for a few minutes until you have read it.

eternalcelestial: Thank you! Loving your reviews so much.

Twinkle 22: Didn't get to the stage name thing yet, but I will, don't worry. You have caught onto something to come though. (Wink) PS – Is this ASAP enough?

Orphelia-Rose: LOL! Yes, on a hill with Erik amongst the roses seems like a lovely way to spend the night, doesn't it? You see, that is how I keep you all hooked. I come up with these Erik phantasies that you all can just insert yourselves into. It may be cheap, but it works. BTW – This chapter has no EC fluff, but it does have one of those "twists and turns" you seem fond of. Welcome to the fic and thanks for your kind words.

erikfan: Yes, Erik is growing up a lot as well. I figure by 40, he should be beginning to mature some. And yes, Erik will always be seductive (le sigh). And I will make a point to use your the "dark lover" thing in the big love scene coming up shortly because I love it SOOO much.

draegon-fire: "Beyond uber sexy" – yep, sounds like Erik all right. Yes, I agree, they weren't ready to take things physically to the next level, but you have to imagine that the sexual tension has really been building over the past eight years and even before. I would think the moment they came into physical contact, it has to become forefront on both their minds. So I felt I had to acknowledge it in their first encounter, but I chose not to let them take it all the way. E and C's relationship has always had a deeply physical as well as spiritual connection. Joel Schumacher talks about it in the Special Edition DVD commentary.

xxphantomphanessxx: Okay, you caught me. This chapter should give you a hint of the troubles to come. But there will be much EC fluff first, I promise.

MadameOG: I am flattered that you went "EEEEEEE" at the end of the last chapter. Hopefully I will have that same effect on you in later chapters!

Pertie: Yay! You are back with us. Glad you liked the last two chapters; here is number 16, just for you tonight.

lafemme540: Ah yes, the sex issue. See my comments to draegon-fire above. But I do think Erik also desperately wishes to court Christine like a normal man, and this is his unique attempt. (Heck, it would work for me.) Remember he mentions that in his internal monologue once before. It was in the den with Nadir when he was staring out the window watching all the happy normal people on the street. Erik makes a comment of that nature in Leroux as well, when he speaks of how he wants to have a wife that he can take for a walk on Sundays, or something of that nature. (I lent my copy to my sister so I can't look up the exact quote.)

xo-little-lotte-xo: No problem, glad to have you back. E and C have a lot of history together and many shared interests, unlike R and C. So it is logical, at least to me, that once the old baggage is cleared away, their friendship would easily resume.

Jema Moda: Yep, both toast. But I haven't gotten to the good stuff yet. I had a few other plot details to work in first. I may ask for your help when I get to it, though. I am never very comfortable with that stuff, but I want to do it justice. Keep working on that fic, woman.

Sabrina Fair: You, me, and every other woman on this site, dear.

Abby Kovac: Here you are, my dear - two chapters in one day. How is that for fast?

Ch. 16 – Those Left Behind

Philippe threw down his cards in disgust. "Well, boys, I do believe I have made all of you enough money by my wretched luck. I bid you good night." He stood abruptly and excused himself from the table. The men seated around it loudly protested his exit, but Philippe held no illusions that it was his pleasing company they felt they were being deprived of.

He made his way through the riff raff of the smoke-filled room, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd for the face of his brother. The place was unusually crowded tonight and it took many moments for Philippe to reach the back of the room. At last he saw Raoul alone at a corner table, his eyes appearing slightly glazed over and out-of-focus. Drunk again. Philippe gave a snort of disgust.

Reaching him at last, Philippe settled himself in the opposite chair and lit a cigar. "I would have thought by now you would have found yourself a lovely lady to take your mind off your troubles." As he spoke, his own eyes wandered to the low-cut bodice of the serving wench who was waiting on the next table where a thin, dark man sat alone.

Raoul glared at him. "A lovely lady is exactly what brought me to this wretched state, dear brother."

Philippe chuckled. "Ah, and a good romp with another shall bring you out of it. That is the nature of the beast, my boy. After all, you've been living like a damn priest for the last... What is it now, anyway?"

"Two years."

"Right." Philippe paused to study his brother. "It is time for you to start thinking of marrying again. You have a duty, you realize."

Raoul gave a hollow laugh. "As I recall, it was you who advised me to put aside my first wife."

"Yes, well, that first one was nothing but trouble from the start - damn opera trash who cared nothing for you or your station. I've always thought it a pity that you happened upon the traitorous wench the first time before all that commoner blood could escape from her miserable veins."

Raoul leapt from his seat, closing his hands tightly around his brother's throat. "Shut your mouth! You are talking about my wife," he snarled.

Philippe thrust his arms away, sending Raoul staggering back into the wall with a thud. In the din of the crowd, no one seemed to notice, except for the thin man at the next table. Philippe stepped forward so that his face was inches from that of Raoul's own. Dragging his brother's limp form upright against the wall by the lapels, Philippe eyed him coldly with distaste.

"Need I remind you, Vicomte that the woman you so nobly defend left you for the arms of another man, those of a deformed murderer wearing a mask, no less. She is no longer your wife, boy, of her own choosing. You have dishonored this family and shirked your duties long enough. In the morning when you have sobered sufficiently, I expect you ready to discuss this matter with some sense. I have had enough of your moping. You are a de Chagny. Show some honor, man." He released his hands from the lapels of Raoul's coat, allowing him to sink to the floor. Turning abruptly, he left him there.

Raoul sat staring after him stupidly for a moment. His head ached already and he now had an unpleasant morning appointment with his brother to look forward to along with his inevitable hangover. Suddenly, a hand reached forth to help him to his feet. Raoul accepted it gratefully and allowed the stranger to guide him back to his seat.

"I couldn't help but overhear monsieur. Sounds like you and I have had a similar run of bad luck as of late." The stranger seated himself in the chair Philippe had abandoned earlier.

Raoul nodded wearily, his attention focused on the nearly empty glass of scotch on the table before him. He raised his hand to attract the attention of one of the servers.

The man continued. "Bit of trouble with the wife, eh?"

Raoul eyed him suspiciously, wondering exactly just how much he had heard. The man had dark, greasy hair and his eyes had a sharp look about them. He was thin to the point of being gaunt, and his cheekbones protruded sharply, giving him a sunken-faced appearance.

The man extended his hand. "The name is Jacques, Jacques de Boir."

Raoul shook the offered hand warily. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled, without much enthusiasm. Where is that server? He thought impatiently.

Jacques eyed him with a smirk, thinking smugly that his own luck seemed to be taking a turn for the better at the moment. It was almost too perfect. The very man he had returned to Paris to find, after a year in a Swiss jail, had nearly fallen into his lap - literally.

He had been sitting at the next table during the two gentlemen's conversation, listening with interest in particular to the detail about an opera singer who had run off with a masked murderer. Still, he had been uncertain of the connection until he had heard clearly the older gentleman call the young man before him, 'Vicomte' and let slip his family name.

Now, Jacques could hardly hide his delight at this golden opportunity for both wealth and revenge.

Jacques leaned close to the well dressed man across the table. "I believe I have some information in my possession that may be of interest to you, Vicomte." He withdrew from his pocket a crumpled, dirty piece of white parchment that smelled strongly of manure.

Raoul recoiled from the stench. "Good Lord, man. Put that away."

Jacques was undeterred. "I didn't bring it all the way from Switzerland for its enchanting odor. It is the information that it contains that I thought might be of use to you."

Jacques took his handkerchief from his pocket and spread the letter out on the table, straightening its edges and wiping away the soil as best he could. He then turned the paper and slid it across the surface of the table for the Vicomte's inspection.

Raoul's face continued to reflect his disgust, but he reached for the crumpled paper and attempted to will his bleary eyes into focus.

It was clear that the first part of the letter was missing, but Raoul's eyes widened as he understood at once why the man seemed so certain of its value.

...concerning her current location. You will be pleased to learn that Christine has rejoined the opera, and is now the reigning prima donna of the Teatro Comunale in Florence, though she has resumed her career under the stage name of 'Angela de Renoir'. Her marriage to the Vicomte de Chagny has been annulled at her own request, and she is desperate to reach you. It seems there is much that you two need to discuss following this unexpected turn of events. She asks that you contact her at her new home as soon as possible.

Once again, I hope that my letter finds you well, dear friend, as it seems the winds of change are at last blowing your way.

Your devoted friend,

Nadir Khan

After several long moments, Raoul raised his eyes to those of the sunken-faced man. "Where did you get this?" He seemed entirely sober now.

"Let's just say I had a little altercation with the masked man you spoke of earlier." Jacques face took on a nasty, violent look.

Raoul paled as he imagined that the man might demand money for his silence or even worse, mean to harm Christine in some way. "What is it that you want?"

Jacques smiled. The conversation was certainly moving in a favorable direction. "I ask only for reasonable compensation for the information and my services."

Raoul released a breath of relief. "How much?"

Jacques studied his face intently. "Fifty thousand francs."

Raoul laughed. "You are clearly out of your mind, monsieur. The information you brought me may reveal my wife's location, but it does not change the fact that she is obviously there with the bastard of her own free will."

Jacques's smile widened. "Ah, but I said the price included my services as well. You have not yet inquired as to what those services may be."

Raoul shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around him nervously. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"I am an assassin by trade, monsieur. Surely you can guess what it is that I propose? The masked man who has caused such pain to you has also earned my own undying hatred. I would like nothing more than to end his miserable life in the most painful manner imaginable, but as I would be doing you a favor as well, I think it only fair that I be paid for my efforts." He leaned back in his chair, confident that his offer would be well received.

Raoul drained what was left in his glass, considering the man's offer. No matter how much he wished the monster dead, he had never before so much as dreamed of giving in to his desire for vengeance.

"I am sorry, monsieur, but you have wasted your time. As much as I despise the man you speak of, I will not disgrace myself by being a party to your efforts." He stood up and moved to leave.

Jacques leapt from his seat to intercept him, knowing his meal ticket was now at stake. "Forgive me, monsieur, but I beg of you to reconsider. The masked man was traveling alone when I last saw him a year ago. He never received the information in this letter. It is entirely likely that if we were to act in haste, your wife need never cross paths with this demon again. As you said yourself, Vicomte, the man is a murderer. If he were to be caught by the authorities, he would surely be hanged. Were the blood to remain entirely on my hands, is it truly such a sin for you to ensure that justice is done."

Raoul looked away. The muscles of his jaw tightened, as he measured Jacques's words. If the man were to succeed, perhaps he still had a chance of winning Christine back. After all, she had married him once thinking the creature dead. Was it really so absurd to think she might do so again? And even if she didn't, it was certainly true that the man was a criminal and deserved to die.

His face hardened in resolve. Christine was worth any price, and the monster's life was a small one to pay. He had made his decision.

Still, as Raoul withdrew the money, he couldn't help feeling that what he was really purchasing was his own ticket straight to hell, selling his soul for a woman who longed only for Satan himself.

His eyes cold and determined, Raoul raised his head. "When do we leave?"