In Triumph

News of Christine's engagement at the Theatre Mystere had been slow to reach the dark caverns under the Opera House. Erik had secluded himself even more in the days since he had sent Christine away...again. The ache within him had eased only slightly, but enough for sanity to begin to settle over his mind. Each new day brought a little more clarity to his clouded psyche.

After the fire, Erik had easily avoided the police in their fumbling search of his tunnels, hiding away in a chamber he had built for just such an event. He had only been drawn out by Madame Giry's first return to his lair not four days after he'd brought the chandelier down. The woman was more acquainted than most with the secrets of the Opera House, and had sought him out in one of the tunnels that the police had been unable to detect. In the wretched, pitiful state he had been in then, Erik had nearly let her wander about to her own devices. Her presence had surprised him, as he'd been certain she would no longer care whether he lived or died, but they had known one another too long for her to simply abandon him to his fate.

With tears of sorrow and pity gleaming in her eyes, she had brought him bread, and looked him over for any wounds, having heard the rumor that he'd been shot. Of course, he had not been. He was far too clever for that. Hardly a word had been spoken except for Madame Giry to say she was glad to find him alive. Erik had only wished for death then, only feeling the life course in his veins when Christine returned. He had given in to his mad obsession for her again...but only for a moment…only for a night. And afterward, Erik had thought once again to hide himself away and wait for death, but Madame Giry had not allowed him that respite. She'd returned often with essentials and kept him informed of the Paris news, but she had not spoken Christine's name to him once. Erik had assumed that she had not wished to upset him with word of Christine's return to her Vicomte...but he had been wrong.

It had been a rare journey into the dark streets of Paris that made Erik finally aware of Christine's continued presence in his city. He had happened upon a poster declaring that the Theatre Mystere had secured the infamous Mademoiselle Christine Daae. He'd torn the poster from the wall in a rage, indignant that his angel would degrade herself by performing in a venue so beneath her.

So blinded by fury and pain, Erik had very nearly drawn attention to himself and risked discovery. When he'd finally calmed, he had begun to question why Christine would have taken such a position. And how the boy could have allowed it. To ask Madame Giry would have betrayed his continued longing for what he could not have, so Erik had carefully cloaked his appearance and stolen into the Mystere for an evening's performance.

It was a truth of theater that one design was very much like another, and finding himself a secure position in the catwalks had been shamefully easy. Keeping from reverting to form and causing mischief to the play had been decidedly more difficult.

They had actually the nerve to cast Christine as an egotistical diva, and stage her murder after one rather uninspiring song. The entire production made Erik cringe, but hardly as much as some of the whispered gossip he had overheard as he'd crept behind the stage. The things that had been said about his precious angel had nearly sent him into a murderous rage. His temper was held in check only by his knowledge that it was he who had already ruined Christine's reputation beyond repair. He had reduced her this, and another murder in the name of love would do nothing but damage Christine even further.

And even as he damned himself a thousand times for her unfortunate circumstances, his black heart could not help rejoicing in the discovery that Christine was no longer engaged to le Vicomte de Chagny.

xXx

Raoul de Chagny's eventual return to Paris had not been in triumph. Indeed, he had stolen back into the city hoping not to be noticed at all. Of course, that was not to be. Every acquaintance he had ever made seemed to find him and subtly prod for details about the infamous Opera Ghost and his former fiancée.

The story of the affair had taken on a life of its own, and each person Raoul met seemed to have heard a different version, yet all of them seemed to make him look a fool for his blind devotion to a woman who clearly could not have loved him. His pain at losing Christine was magnified tenfold by his damaged pride. It was of little consolation to him that he was able to say that he had been the one to break the engagement, for he knew that was only a technicality. Christine had not wanted him.

He'd sought peace and oblivion in the country with his parents, but the time had done nothing to console him. He had stocked the house with all of the finest furniture and gowns to please Christine, and the orphaned belongings made a mockery of him in Christine's absence. His parents had not aided his quest for understanding, as they hadn't been able to hide their relief that Christine would not become the Vicomtess de Chagny. The tale of the Phantom and his obsession had alarmed the Comte and Comtess, and while they'd had a great deal of sympathy towards Christine, they had not thought their son's attachment to be a wise choice. Christine's unrelenting sadness during her stay with them had only served to make them both more wary of the match. Raoul's broken engagement had been quietly rejoiced, and his parents had constantly reminded him that Christine had been beneath him. Yet none of their reasoning really mattered to Raoul.

Only Christine. Always Christine.

Being in Paris again, amidst his own lingering demons, Raoul began to wonder if perhaps he had reacted unfairly to Christine's request for time apart. He had been hurt by her words of uncertainty...after months of telling him how she loved him, of fearing that the Phantom would part them forever...Christine had suddenly questioned her promise to Raoul. In his mind, there had been no question of their future. He loved Christine and wanted nothing more than for them to be married as soon as possible. In his pain, he had demanded that she return to his estate and keep her promise. He had left her no choice.

Either way you choose you cannot win...

Cage her and she would have always longed for freedom...free her and she may never return. Yet her freedom need not have taken her completely away from Raoul, had he only allowed it to be so. The news of her situation at the Theatre Mystere had reached him rather quickly upon his return. He had been relieved to hear that Christine remained in Paris, still wonderfully unattached and again performing on the stage. There had been no sightings of the Phantom in the two months since the fire, although the authorities were still on alert. A strange calmness had seemed to settle over the city, and the impossible began to seem possible once again.

Quite by accident, Raoul's path had crossed that of Mademoiselle Giry. His brief conversation with Christine's friend had been tense, to say the least, but he recalled every vivid detail of it. The politely restrained reproof in her words to him on that afternoon still played again and again in his mind.

Christine asked only for your patience. Such a small thing to grant to the woman you claimed to love.

But he had been patient! He had always acted the perfect gentleman, gone through hell to save Christine from that beast. All of Paris seemed to think him a fool for his efforts, but he was not. He had not been blind to the compassion in Christine's eyes for her supposed angel, and seeing it had cut him to the core. He had loved her enough to accept that one small piece of her would never truly belong to him…as long as the rest of her would be his.

And yet, when Christine had asked him for patience, he'd denied her.

Such a small thing to grant to the woman you claimed to love.

Perhaps he had been a fool after all.

A/N: Ah, the return of Erik. And what do you know, Raoul seems to be back, too.