To Live Again 5

A/N- We're getting to the interesting stuff now. I hope everyone likes Joelle and Dom—OCs on their own are hard to make, but creating a whole OC world in coexistence with the canon world is about ten times harder.

I know right now nobody out there is happy with Raoul, or if you're a Raoul fan, don't lose hope, I'm not making him into a bad guy. He's only human, and his actions are very easily explained.

If anyone's wondering about the way I'm portraying the phantom, please remember that he's a broken man, but on the way to recovery.

Good stuff to come.

To Heather and Adam, may your instruments forever remain in tune, may your hearts forever remain unbroken.

As always, my faithful readers- Enjoy, and your reviews are like sunshine on my soul.

"So his name's Erik?" Dom asked when Joelle finished her story.

"Yes."

"Do you really love him?"

"I do."

Dom thought a moment, "…Is he good to you, Joelle?"

"So good."

The man nodded, satisfied. His darker blue eyes were calm as he then said, "I'd like to meet him someday. Someone should welcome him to the family, and somehow I don't think it'll be Raoul."

Joelle's face lit up. "I'll speak with him about it." Her eyes softened, "Poor Erik…He's been jumpy all morning after what happened." A sigh escaped her lips. "Raoul has apologized to me, but I can't find it in me to forgive him… Is that awful of me?"

"I can't say I blame you. He did go a bit overboard. Just try to remember that he did what he did trying to protect you from someone he didn't trust… with good reason."

"He hurt Erik." She said softly, "To me, that's unforgivable."

"Then why are you so close to Christine? She was the one who ultimately broke him."

"Erik forgives her. He regrets his actions. Besides, we understand each other. Our situations were similar, in some ways. There's a sort of kinship deeper than blood for two women who have known such fear." She shrugged, "Besides, she's new to the family and her reception hasn't been the warmest, someone needs to help her get used to things. You know how Great Aunt Beatrice is. Talking about 'family prestige' and 'marrying only those worthy', things like that."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Ah, so you mean to take her under your wing… And then worm what you can about Erik out of her."

She blushed, "Just little things… I figure he'd been wooing her for so long, someone needs to properly romance him. You know, flowers, little surprises; that sort of thing. Like little reminders that I love him, little promises that I always will. I think he needs that. Besides, I like making him happy."

Dom hugged his sister, "You really do love him." He murmured, "I'm happy for you."

She smiled, laying her head on his chest. "Thank you, Dom. I'm so glad you understand. I thought I'd never find someone…right."

"Well, someone wise once told me 'love can neither be forced or rushed'. I'm just glad I'm not the only one who's found it."

"Wow. I'm being quoted. I'm honored." She quipped.

Meanwhile, in another room in the manor, a man and woman embraced. This time, the man was in tears.

"Christine… I messed up…" Raoul sobbed.

"I know." She whispered. "You had reason to worry."

"You don't understand! Joelle was the only one who seemed to think I could ever amount to anything more than a spoiled rich brat! She talked to me, and she didn't take any attitude." He cried, "If I started to act up, she'd just go quiet and give me a look, like she expected better. And she listened, she really listened! And now I've gone and messed things up and she loves a man I despise who loathes me no less."

"Perhaps things will cool down?"

"She's nice, but she's stubborn. She insisted I apologize to him. I think she means to shut me out until then…"

"Then apologize. There are worse things to have to do. Explain things to Erik, be reasonable and tactful. He's not such a bad man, just very alone." Christine sighed, "And very self-conscious about his face. You hurt him, even if he doesn't like you."

"But he was with my cousin. The last time he was involved with a woman in my life… What he did to you still infuriates me!"

"Joelle seems like a strong woman… And rather quirky… The way she fought back… the way she was strong for her family when Dom was in the hospital! I don't think Erik would be able to hurt her if he tried."

Raoul nodded, "Yes, and she's always been tough, but…I can't stop remembering how two years ago, she was so delicate, frightened of suspicious shadows and sudden noise. I've been nothing but a failure protecting those I care about: First with her, back then; then with you… I couldn't keep your nightmares away; …Phillipe; …and all that failure…I just couldn't keep my frustration and anger from rising up and I took it out on the person I hated every bit as much as Rojer… Erik."

"To err is human, Raoul. You are only a man, you have weaknesses as do we all."

"I feel like I've lost my only ally."

"I'm still here."

"Never leave me." He pleaded.

"I will never." Christine assured him.

Joelle was saddling up Ula. The young mare nibbled on her bangs and she laughed. "Those aren't for eating, Ula! Besides, I have enough trouble with them as it is."

A man stepped out of the shadows. "Off teh Paris again, lass?" Haral asked.

"Yep." She nodded, trying to pull the bits of straw out of her hair.

"I'll miss yeh." He murmured longingly.

She stopped. Her eyes widened, she looked up into the green pools of his eyes. Sadly, she noted that his eyes were only little green ponds beside Erik's fathomless golden seas.

Haral took her hand, "Lass… Joelle… In a few weeks, there's gonna be a festival in the village. Would ye go as my lady?"

Joelle sighed. She'd known she'd have to straighten out this messy matter sooner or later, but had dreaded it. Her body responded, as always, to Haral's touch, heat spreading to exactly the right places, but her heart saw only Erik. She swallowed hard, fighting down the purely physical attraction. Erik was her love, someday her lover; Haral was her friend, no more.

"H..Haral, I can't." She whispered.

"Joelle…" His voice was the essence of agony.

"I'm sorry, Haral. I'm in love with someone else." She replied, hating herself for breaking the good man's heart. She wished fate were kinder. "I never meant to lead you on. All we can ever be is friends. Good friends, I hope." Gently she squeezed the hand that held hers. "Find yourself someone better. I'm just too strange for my own good. Luckily, my man is patient."

His face was full of anguish. "As…as ye wish." He breathed, voice trembling.

"Can you ever forgive me?" She asked. "This wasn't supposed to happen, but somehow it just…did."

He pulled back reluctantly. "I can… but not tonight." He said, "Let meh mourn my loss tonight…"

She looked away, unable to endure his pain. Hurriedly, she mounted her horse and rode off.

"Why do I have such trouble with men?" She wondered sadly. "Maybe I should have just stayed an the damn convent!" A curl fell in her face. "Oh sure. Now you come out!" She snapped.

By the time she reached the door to Erik's house, she craved the solace of his arms, the sweet calm that swept over her when they talked.

She fought down tears. Now wasn't the time. He needed her now, he needed her to be strong. Lately it felt like everyone did, particularly when Rojer could at any moment take her away. So she crammed down the icy horror brought on by the very sound of his name, the arousal that Haral awakened, the aching disappointment at the events with her cousin, the fears and insecurities about a new relationship that was by no means certain, the worry about her beloved, and the constant longing to just stay with him and forget all of the above. If she wasn't afraid, nobody else needed to be. If she could smile and be sunny and happy, they didn't have to worry for her. Let them think she was her old happy, carefree self.

If only it didn't feel like those bottled emotions were slowly tearing her apart.

Taking a deep breath, she entered.

Erik smiled when he saw her. Sleep had done him good; he looked a lot better. She allowed herself to believe that her love had contributed as well.

"Joelle!" He greeted cheerfully, "You came back!"

She smiled, 'Jeez, moody guy, isn't he?' "Of course I did." She hoped her growing strain didn't come across in her voice.

Possibly not. He came over and wrapped his arms around her.

"What…what did your father and Dom say?"

"Papa said that he'd let Dom decide if you were good enough for me. Dom wants to meet you, but he says that if I love you and you treat me well, then he likes you already. Oh, and he sends his gratitude for your timely rescue."

Erik nodded. "Well good." He replied, "I guess I wouldn't mind meeting him, either. It would be nice to have a male friend. And he does sound interesting."

"You seem much better." She said, "It's so wonderful to see you smiling!"

"Well, I've been thinking. All things considered, I've had some very good luck in with the usual bad. Also, and this surprised me quite a bit, with you around, I've been… happy. That's a pretty big deal for me: I don't remember the last time I was really happy."

Joelle sighed, nestling her head on his shoulder, breathing in the soft scent of books and wood and something distinctly Erik. "I'm glad, luv." She whispered, borrowing a British endearment.

"I'm glad, luv."

'Luv', she had said. The simple word washed over him like whispers of a spring breeze, warm and soothing. It occurred to Erik that nobody had ever said anything like that to him. His lonely soul reveled in the small, meaningful little concept: This woman loved him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Here, in his arms, was a woman who loved him even with the possibility that he would never return his feelings. Here was a beautiful, strange, unique woman who sought him out over all the handsome men she must encounter. Here was a person who had never once made him feel anything less than completely perfect and desirable.

She smelled like daffodils and sunlight, and vibrant spirit. Her love was like a warm blanket; offered freely, with nothing asked in return—not even the reciprocation of feeling that she had every right to expect. He remembered what she'd said the previous day. 'I was prepared to simply love you, if you would allow it.' She'd said.

She admitted that she would be content simply to be allowed to love him, as long as he wanted her to, without needing him to love her.

She had placed everything she had in his hands.

In that moment, he could have crushed her in his palm, but still she risked it.

She could have had a young, devastatingly handsome man, but instead she chose him: Old, insecure, disfigured Erik. The Opera Ghost, the 'Living corpse', the 'Devil's Child'. The murderer. She took his cold, bloodstained hands in her soft, warm, clean ones, offering him everything she was. Knowing who she was, she still called him 'her Angel', 'Her champion'. Friend, sweetheart, honey… Man.

It was a truly humbling revelation.

In that moment, he realized that he had a second chance. A second chance that was so much better than most men's first chance. Joelle was definitely someone he could love, with a little time. Hell, he was beginning to love her already. Even seeing her with Christine, she shone like some precious jewel.

He swore, then and there, that he would never make her regret her choice.

Something was wrong, though, he realized as he held her.

She clung to him like a lifeline. He could feel the desperation in her arms, like she was seeking shelter.

Gently, he held her out at arm's length, looked deep in her eyes, searching for the hidden problem that tormented her so. With all of his power, he captured her azure eyes with his own. One thing he had learned through his nightmarish life was how to read people, well enough that they might think he read their minds. What he saw in her, was stress, nigh on to the breaking point.

"Oh, Joelle…" He whispered, reaching to cup her creamy white cheek with his hand. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch with complete trust. She did not even flinch for a second at the chill of his skin.

"Erik." She breathed.

His hand left her cheek and his arm slid around her waist. He guided her to the couch, pulling her gently down into her lap. She acquiesced readily, snuggling against him.

'You've been such a comfort to me, Joelle, now it's my turn.' He thought. She had seemed so strong, since he had known her. When she defended him against her cousin, she had practically emanated strength and defiance. She was like a little flame.

"Tell me what's bothering you, Joelle." He commanded softly.

She shook her head, "I don't want to burden you when you're finally smiling."

"I can't be happy if you aren't. If you love me, then trust me."

She sighed, tensing up a little. He put his arm back around her.

"Trust me, Joelle."

"I do." She replied,

"Then tell me, that I might ease your troubled heart."

She relented, starting with her fear of Rojer, a fear that went back to childhood, telling her history with him, stories that chilled Erik. She told him of her father's desperate fear of losing his cherished daughter to the same man that had murdered his wife, how he'd slowly become a drunkard; of Dom's fear of losing the sister who was his best friend, coupled with his shame of exposing her to the threat that nearly destroyed her, and his fear at his inability to protect even himself. She told about the former chancy friendship with her cousin Raoul, whom she had had faith in and who had forever lost her trust and respect because of his treatment of a man she loved more than life (It touched him deeply to be referred to as such.). She told him of her confession to Haral, and her consuming guilt at breaking the heart of a true and loyal friend who just happened to be madly in love with her for reasons she didn't understand. Then she said something that brought tears to his eyes: She said that every moment apart from him she wished she was in his arms.

For a moment, all he could do was hold her tightly as his emotions surged, filling parts of him he'd thought long dead, feeling truly alive, reveling in her honesty.

Then he stroked her hair. "You're safe. If Rojer becomes a threat, I'll take care of him. If Raoul apoligizes, I'll consider it. Haral didn't stand a chance against your charms, any man would be doomed to fall, but things will get more comfortable between you. And I miss you, too. You're always welcome in my home, and in my arms." He promised.

But he still couldn't say those three all-important words. He hated himself for that.

But she seemed comforted, relaxing completely.

For awhile, they sat in comfortable silence, Erik amusing himself by playing with her hair, a new experience for him, as no woman ever came close enough to allow it. Idly, he thought of how many men took for granted the feel of a woman, warm and sweet, in their lap; the softness of their hair, the incredible feeling of arms draped lovingly about their shoulders. So much of this was new to him, and how exquisite it was! She had surrendered completely to the touch of his hand, and in doing so, claimed a piece of his soul forever. He never imagined the rapture of a warm, yielding body against him, the ecstasy brought by such complete trust. It was so much better than he had ever dreamed. Thrills surged through his body as she laid tender kisses along his jawline. Erik closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away in the sensation of a simple pleasure, denied to him so long, the pleasure of being loved unconditionally.

Interesting.

Her shoulders were dusted with cute little freckles.

Joelle gave a blissful sigh, lavishing kisses on Erik's neck and cheek. He had chased away her fears with a few simple words in that sinfully beautiful voice of his. He had set her at perfect ease, soothing any pain she had ever felt, neutralizing any sadness that had ever touched her. She loved the feeling of his long, deft fingers touching her, toying with her hair. When she was here with him like this, all that existed was joy beyond measure. Here was paradise that did not exist in even heaven, yet she had found it in his arms. She loved his obvious joy in simply touching her, reveling in the attention that made her feel like a goddess. Every insecurity about herself disappeared, making her feel like she was perfect. More than that: Life was perfect, so long as he never stopped touching her.

It felt like something inside was filling up, touching every corner, filling to beyond capacity until she wanted to cry out her rapture from the top of every mountain, announce to every living thing that this was the man she loved. Never had she dreamed, when leaving that convent, that true joy could take the form of a man.

Particularly not the most bizarre, eccentric man she'd ever met.

Try as she might, she couldn't suppress a small "Oh!" of pleasure when she felt his long, elegant fingers tracing her neck. Looking up into his perfect (to her) golden eyes, she stretched out her neck and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

It was a chaste, innocent kiss (of course, it had to be, for the mask got in the way of anything else), but when he kissed her back, she was stunned by the happy tears welling in her eyes. No jokes came to her now. She felt no desire to take away the seriousness of the moment. No need to hide behind her habitual levity.

She smiled when she saw that his eyes were wet as well, bright with surprise and pleasure. She chuckled softly, realizing that, for all that his past held, he was still an innocent child in some respects, as was she. She loved him even more for that revelation. It was somewhat reassuring to know that he was as new to these sensations as she was.

She laid her cheek back against his chest, feeling him bury his face in her hair. She smiled drowsily.

She never knew that a touch could make her feel so loved. When Rojer touched her, she felt dirty, revolted. But Erik was different. She swore to herself that no other man would ever be able to get this close. If she lived forever, and only had Erik for this moment, she would never love anyone else, ever.

Neither of them would ever figure out quite when they fell asleep, but both knew that the dreams that came to them on that night were the sweetest they had ever known.