Now
The door to Christine's old dressing room swings shut, and Raoul looks at it for a moment before staggering on down the hall. He is in no condition to make the trip home tonight, and he knows it. He will have to call upon Madame Giry's assistance again, and that rankles a bit, though he knows the woman has done nothing she did not think in all of their best interests. He travels down one hall, then another, as familiar with the twisting and turning as he is within his own house. But Madame Giry's apartments are on the other side of the building, a long walk no matter how many shortcuts you know, and soon he is lost in thought, remembering

Then: Three months ago
"Oh, no, we really should not, Phillippe, what if someone should hear?"

"Hush, Christine, hush. No one would dare interfere. I am a much more powerful man than my brother, you know. Hush."

I'm not hearing this. Raoul thought. Christine would never betray me.

No, said the small voice in the back of his head, and she has never betrayed anyone else, has she?

"Monsieur, oh, Phillippe, oh my!" She was speaking very loudly, the sound of her voice coming right through the door to her dressing room. Raoul stood very quietly in the hall, listening and thinking, one hand searching out his sword.

"Christine, oh Christine, my angel. My brother could never teach you what I can."

Raoul drew his sword and gave the door a swift kick, knocking the lock out of its place, smashing the door against the wall. He saw only images, the gold of Christine's hair, the surprise in Phillippe's eyes, the disarray of their clothes and the scatter of flowers and candies across the floor. He brought his sword to his brother's throat, unable to speak.

"Raoul! Raoul, darling, he said that if... He's agreed to approve of our mairrage, darling. You won't have to put aside your title, love. Don't hurt him! He didn't do anything to me, Raoul, don't hurt him!"

"Raoul, put away your sword. How would it look, the vicomte killing his older brother over a chorus girl? Take a deep breath, and put away the sword."

"You called her angel."

"What?"

"You called her angel! Why?"

"She told me to. Why? Does it signify?"

Raoul stared at him, then turned his gaze to Christine. "I would have died for you. Do you know that? If you had chosen, I would have died, and happily, knowing I had won your freedom. If I had known that you didn't want to be free, that you'd rather stay with him... I can't be him, Christine! Neither can my brother! No one can!"

"Raoul, I didn't want him! I chose you! This, this is just, I'm trying to take care of us!"

"Stop lying to me, Christine! Stop lying to yourself! You chose him! You love him! I'm just easier to live with!"

"No, Raoul. No."

"What's going on?" asked Phillippe. "Who did she chose? What are you two talking about?"

Raoul stepped away from his brother, almost forgetting that Phillippe was there. Two steps took him to Christine, and he took her hand, hard, and pulled the new ring from her finger. "I will not live with this, Christine. I am only glad that I realised what you were before I married you. You are free to do whatever you like with my brother. We are no longer engaged."

"Oh, now, come little brother, don't do anything rash. After all, it was just a bit of fun."

Raoul swerved, bringing his sword back up to his brother's face. "As for you, you can take your title and defecate on it. I'm through with you, I'm through with the de Changy line! Stay away from me!"

"Oh, Raoul, you always were rash. Will you truly throw your entire fortune away because you feel betrayed? After all, what are brothers for if they can not share?"

Raoul stared up at his older brother, shocked, then disgusted, and finally almost amused. "Indeed, what are brothers for?" he asked, taking his sword down. Phillippe smiled, relieved, and Raoul smiled back, keeping his smile as his left hand fisted, came up, and smashed into the bridge of Phillippe's nose. The taller man crumpled, unconcious, blood spraying from his face. Christine shrieked wordlessly, sounding just like all of the other mindless chorus girls. Raoul winced, feeling the pain spread up his arm, sheathed his sword, and walked out of the door without another word.

The hallways all seemed to be the same after a while. Up a staircase, down a staircase, and for goodness sake, avoid the people walking by! Raoul was quite lost within a matter of moments, in the maze of construction sites and stairwells, and he didn't really care. Where was he to go, even if he did know where he was? There wasn't anything for him to do, no one to go to. Andre and Firmin would undoubtably be concerned, but they were not exactly the type of people to turn to for help. The most they could do would be fire Christine, and while he didn't really care for her at the moment, he didn't want to turn her out into the street. She was an old friend, no matter what else she became.

A stairway, leading up for a very long time, then a doorway. This was familiar. He opened the door, then braced himself against the cold wind that swept across the roof. It was fitting that he ended up here, where he had pledged to love her in the first place. He stepped out into the wind, looking up at the sky, glancing at the statue of Apollo that guarded the opera house. Winged Phoebus Apollo. He laughed bitterly, then spat out, "Angel of Music, you decieved me! You had her heart always!" He walked to the edge of the rooftop, staring down at the streets below, the cabs and people walking by in the dusky light. It was going to rain soon, he could smell it. He clenched his hand around the ring, feeling the diamond biting into his palm, and took another step forward.

"Suicide, Monsieur? That hardly seems like you."

Raoul jumped, staring about him, and almost lost his balance. He flailed a bit, arms pinwheeling, then finally caught his balance and stumbled away from the rooftop. He fell to his hands and knees, the ring rolling away from him, and glared up at the statue. A figure stood before it, clad in dark evening clothes with a white mask covering half of its face.

"You're dead!"

"Am I? How odd, one would think I would remember something as momentus as that. Perhaps I only appeared to be dead. Or perhaps I have finally become a phantom. As you were just about to."

"I wasn't going to jump."

"No? It appeared otherwise, vicomte."

"I was just..." Raoul blinked, rising to his feet and dusting his pantlegs off, "I intended to throw the ring off."

"Your engagement ring?"

"Yes. I'm sure you know that I've called off my engagement. You've always known everything that occurs here." Raoul bent and picked up the ring, looking at it rather than at the figure in the shadows.

"Of course I know, Monsieur. I am less clear as to why. You knew she did not have a loyal bone in her body when you proposed. Is it only when she proved that she could be just as disloyal to a rich, handsome, man, such as yourself, that you decided she was not worthy of the de Changy title?"

"No, Monsieur!" He looked up at the Phantom. "She never loved me. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, there was only ever one man who held her heart. That was you. Her rendevouz with my brother only proves that. I can not marry someone who does not love me."

"Don't be absurd, Monsieur. She betrayed me."

"She will never let herself be with you. That does not mean she doesn't love you. You do not fit into her idea of life, that is all." Raoul lost all sense of who he was speaking to, forgitting to show respect or contempt for the other man. He began to pace, punctuating his words by gesturing angrily with his hands. "She wants children, and an estate, and long days at the beach. She's trying to convince herself that she can be happy with someone else, someone who can give her that. She's wrong. I will not stand by as she is devoured by her misery!" He glared at the ring for a few more moments, then reeled around and threw it as hard as he could, watching it arch out over the street, finally dropping out of sight. "I will not watch her wither trying to find you," he muttered, staring out at the spot the golden thing had disappeared.

There was a long silence, and Raoul thought that the Phantom had left. He turned, and there was the Opera Ghost, looking at him. "What?" Raoul barked. "We have nothing more to quarrel over. We have both lost, simply because the woman we were fighting over did not want either of us, but elements of both. It is over. Let me by." He stormed off, passing the figure to reach the door to the inside.

"Wait." The Phantom reached out, grabbing Raoul's arm.

"Monsieur, let me go."

"No, vicomte, not until you've heard me out. You say that Christine loved elements of both of us."

"Yes. Your genius, wit, ability. My, may I be blunt Monsieur? My looks and position."

"So, why not give her a man who has all of that?"

Raoul stared at the masked man, searching for some emotion in his face, and finding none. "To what purpose, Monsieur?"

"I don't know. To make her happy? To punish her for hurting us? To win? We can determine what to do with her once we have captured her, but capture her we can!"

Raoul shook his head. "I don't believe I understand your proposal."

"You have a good voice. With training it could be made better, not on a par with Christine's or my own, but good. I could give you things to say, to win her again. She wants your stability, and would forgive your outburst if you asked her. Then, to make her love you!"

"Monsieur, I believe you have me confused with someone else. My name is de Changy, not de Bergerac."

"No, in this situation I would be de Bergerac, but that's beside the point. The point is that we could win her!"

"We would have to work together. I don't know that either of us would be able to do that."

"Do you love Christine?"

Raoul was silent for a moment, then tried to wrench his arm away from the other man. The Phantom merely increased his grip, bearing down on a nerve in the vicomte's elbow. Raoul gasped, knees buckling, and the Phantom kneeled beside him, hissing in his ear.

"That was very stupid Monsieur. Now, answer me. Do you love Christine?"

"Yes," gasped Raoul, "yes, I love her."

"Then you'll do whatever it takes to win her. Won't you? Or would you rather your older brother fumble at her dress between acts, ineptly taking the place that we should fill?"

Raoul grimaced, closed his eyes, then looked up at the older man. "When do we start?"

Gasp! I got reviews! Now to answer them. (Five more for the next update. Heh heh.)

Kytten: No problem. Thanks. Raoul's story was supposed to sound childish, for reasons that will be made clear later.

Lil-Hikki: Okay!

theinfamousredflag: -grins at the awed staringness- It will be continued, don't worry. I don't want people to be sad. Although being hunted down would be interesting.:)

lonz: I like this pairing too. Continue I shall!

denna5: Thanks. Yeah, as I said, the extremely stylised story was for a reason. Sorry about the typos. I'll keep writing if you keep reviewing!