In Jealousy

Every pair of eyes in Le Monde was stealing glances at le Vicomte de Chagny, who sat dining with not one, but two beautiful young ladies. That one of those ladies was his former fiancée, the infamous Christine Daae, had sent a quiet buzz floating through the restaurant. Christine had grown used to such looks from those who had recognized her in these past months, but poor Raoul was clearly uncomfortable. She could only wonder if Meg's presence as chaperone was earning them more or less attention than they would have otherwise received.

Raoul had called on Christine with the clear hope of seeing her alone, yet he had not been terribly resistant to her insisted inclusion of Meg. Christine suspected that he was putting forth his best effort to refrain from pressuring her for more than friendship, but it was obvious that he was hoping to gently remind her of the love they had once shared. Her guilt at allowing him this hope was weighing heavily upon her, and she suspected Meg felt no better at participating in this carefully choreographed dance around the truth. As much as Christine would trust Raoul with her life, she could not trust him with Erik's.

She wished she could simply tell Raoul of her plans to soon leave Paris without worrying that he would question her incessantly, or attempt to learn her destination in the hope of keeping in touch. Yet she felt a great deal of relief from having learned Raoul would himself be away from Paris on business for a time. Their farewells today would be final, though Raoul did not know it.

He was endeavoring to be his usual charming, affable self, and he and Meg were once again engaging in some rather entertaining banter. Christine was truly amazed by this, as Raoul had been ever serious and rather...reserved in all of his conversations with her. To be fair, she supposed the events of the past months had more than a little to do with that. Neither of them had been able to find much joy in little moments like this. Christine truly hoped Raoul would be able to find the happiness she could never give him, as she had found hers in Erik.

xXx

Across the street from Le Monde, perched upon the roof of the opposite building, was the dark figure of the former Opera Ghost. Erik glared at the façade of the café, wondering just how long this damned dinner would go on. He had been at the Marseille House when the boy had arrived, and watched Christine scurry off with him. Neither the presence of Little Giry on their outing, nor Christine's constant reassurances were enough to dispel his jealousy at seeing the Vicomte still pursuing his angel.

Foolish fop! I'd string you up if not for her.

Erik jumped back from the ledge, pacing once again to burn off his anger. Only a few more days, and he'd never have to look at the fool again. He could certainly keep his temper in check until then. He certainly was not plotting de Chagny's demise.

No, certainly not.

There is no need.

Christine is mine. She loves me. She chose me.

Yet she was dining with her Vicomte while Erik watched from the shadows once again.

xXx

Raoul was perfectly content to sit and listen to Meg and Christine happily chat about their childhood memories. It seemed a lifetime since Christine had seemed so at ease. Perhaps it had been. Their time apart had certainly matured her greatly. He so wanted the chance to discover this new strength in her, and he wondered why she seemed so resistant.

Perhaps she thinks I would suffocate her once again.

He grimaced slightly...suffocation was not one of his favorite subjects. He truly hated knowing that he had made her feel...how had she phrased it?...a bird in a gilded cage. Perhaps he had sheltered her a bit too much. He would not make that mistake again. Raoul had offered Christine his continued friendship, and he was confident that she would rediscover her love for him in time.

His eyes strayed from Christine to Meg Giry. He had truly begun to count the utterly charming ballerina as a friend, which was greatly the reason why he had not protested having her as a chaperone. For he knew her to be precisely that. Christine was keeping a careful, pious distance between them, but Meg's endless good spirit and friendly manner seemed somehow to lessen the sting of that action.

Even as he thought this, the waiter made yet another appearance at the table to offer more wine, the young man's eyes lingering on Meg perhaps a little longer, and certainly a little lower, than was respectable. Raoul glared at the boy in annoyance, thinking him very ungentlemanly indeed. "That will be all, Jacques. You may bring me the check."

Jacques nodded, "Ouí, Monsieur." Then he flashed a smile at Meg. "Mademoiselle, are you certain there is nothing else that you require."

Meg smiled warmly, "No, Jacques. It was a wonderful meal, thank you."

Christine raised a brow at being rather blatantly ignored by the waiter, but flashed Meg a mischievous grin as soon as Jacques had gone. "I think he likes you, Meg."

She grinned back. "He was a bit obvious about it, wasn't he?"

Raoul scoffed, "I found him very rude."

Both women looked at him strangely, then back to one another. Christine lowered her head slightly and mock whispered to Meg, "But awfully handsome."

Meg laughingly replied, "You thought so, too?"

Raoul scowled at them both, feeling a strange tingle of jealousy at their admiration of that boy. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever understand the female of the species.

xXx

Erik had abandoned stalking Christine sometime before dessert had arrived, and had started back towards the Opera House. His fingers were playing with the rope tucked under his cloak. The de Chagny manor was not very far from where he was now. The boy would never even know he was there, one twist and it would be over.

Over…yes…

Christine will never see you again.

Damn.

Unfortunately, his foul mood had made him more careless than usual…or perhaps it had been that damned streak of humanity that Christine had awakened. Regardless, he had been moving in the shadows of the back alleys when a muffled scream caught his attention. His entire body stilled, coiled at the ready, as he turned his head in the direction of the noise. In the shadow, he saw the outline of a man pressing a smaller form against the wall. As Erik's eyes sharpened, he saw that the smaller form was a woman, and she was struggling. His ears picked up harshly whispered threats over the grunts and groans of the man. 'Shut up…little whore…quiet and I might let you live…'

Mere weeks ago, Erik would have likely ignored the scene and been on his way, but now the sight of such a thing focused the aimless rage within him. He moved quickly, his lasso tight around the man's throat in a flash. One good hard tug and he would have snapped the scoundrel's neck, but Erik lingered over the task, savoring the sweet joy of feeling his victim weaken and gasp for breath. His eyes closed in pleasure and his lips tilted upward, and for a brief moment, he imagined it was the Vicomte whose life he held in his hands. Then his promise to Christine rang in his ears. Hissing out a frustrated breath, Erik loosened the rope and brought his closed fist down against the back of the man's head, letting the body crumple limply to the ground.

The woman who'd been attacked had slipped down the wall in hysterical sobs as soon as the bastard's grip on her had loosened, and now she looked up at Erik with wide fearful eyes. She was just a little slip of a thing, thin and unkempt and terrible young. Most likely a prostitute. Erik knelt in front of her, feeling the man's throat for a pulse, only hoping to feel one for the sake of his promise.

Her raspy, frightened voice asked, "Is…is he…dead?"

Erik sighed, "He lives. You will likely want to be far from here when he awakens."

When he raised his face to look at the woman again, he saw her eyes grow even wider and her face pale slightly. "You…you're him…the Phantom…"

Erik tensed and stood quickly, glowering over her trembling form with hands closed into fists around his lasso. He could slip it around her throat and...

No! No!

Hastily spinning around, he darted back down the alley. He heard her voice call out from behind him to wait, but he couldn't stop. He moved as if the Hounds of Hell were at his heels, and only when he reached the safety of his dark dungeon did he sink down the wall and feel their teeth close around his throat.

Damn. Damn. Damn. What have you done? They'll come for you now! They will hang you for your crimes. You will never see Christine again…never see your child…

A wrenching sob was torn from him as he thought of the future that had nearly been his.

So close…I was so close…

A/N: What will become of Erik now?