Hello, all. Chelsey here. Please excuse the mild lack of spacing between paragraphs in certain places; this feature on the software/browser which I use apparently is not supported by the editor. Instead, a break between a change of setting or point of view will be notated with an 'x'. A break between story content and an author's note will be notated with a series of 'x's. Thank you for your flexibility in this matter, and without further ado, on with the chapter. (P.S. Please check out our two other phics, The Young Widow and Paradise.)

Chapter 16

Raoul deChagny was a man, and as a man he had desires. As much as he respected and loved Christine, he could not go on much longer without physical love... She had never refused him before... She had been acting so different lately; he did not know what the problem was, and therefore he could not remedy it. But nonetheless he tried. He purchased her many new gowns and pairs of shoes, taking her on walks in the park, lunch at cafes, dinner at fine, expensive restaurants, complementing her often. She thanked him politely each time, but still, her overall demeanor did not change. She seemed so sad and distant, which hurt him. He'd thought that, since he was returning after so long, she would be happy and cheerful. But that was simply not the case. At this rate, he wondered if they would ever have children; if he would ever have an heir. He planned to try again tonight.

He exited his study and began the trek to the master bedroom, where he knew Christine was. He opened the door and found her lying on the bed in her nightclothes, gazing out the window.

"What is wrong, dearest?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to her.

She snapped out of her thoughts. She had been thinking of Brigitte, who was turning one year and three months old today; it was not an actual birthday, but it still saddened her that she was not in Erik's home with them both, watching her daughter grow from a baby to a young child.

"Nothing," she said, turning her head so she was looking at him; she managed a small smile. He lie down on the bed next to her, turning her so she faced him. He kissed her lips and gently cupped her breast.

"Christine," he whispered. "I have waited far too long for this."

Christine squeezed her eyes shut. "Raoul... Not tonight..."

"Christine," he hissed, "You know that you want this as much as I do." He felt he was doing a good job of being seductive, despite the fact that he'd never tried this before; never had he had to. She'd always came to him willingly.

"Raoul," she said more firmly, "I said not tonight... It's been a long day and I'm just not up to it."

"Christine, what is wrong with you? You always wanted me before..." He trailed off thoughtfully. "It has to do with him, doesn't it?" he asked, his gaze on her venomous.

"Wh... What? Who?" But, Christine, of course, knew who he was talking about right away, for he had been on her mind for quite sometime now.

"You know who. The Phantom."

"He has a name, you know." Shit. You weren't supposed to say that.

"Oh really?" he asked, with mock friendly interest. "And what, pray tell, is it? And how did you come about this valuable piece of information?"

She looked down at her hands, folded on her lap, feeling tears she had come to know so well come to her eyes. "Erik," she whispered.

"Erik," he repeated, a rare hatred in his tone. "Well Christine, I must make you forget Erik, mustn't I?" With that, he turned her roughly and began to undo her nightgown; eventually he ripped it open, too dazed with lust and anger to bring himself to focus on the small ribbons and buttons. Something within him had snapped; he suddenly harbored a rage and a lust so intense he could not hide it any longer.

"Raoul, what the hell are you doing?" she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"I told you, dear, I am helping you forget Erik. I'm sure you will enjoy it just as much as I will." He turned her on her back, positioning himself over her, ripped off the chemise. His eyes feasted upon her body. Roughly, he drew a nipple into his mouth and pressed his hand to her sex. "Ah, so you do want me," he growled as she grew wet.

"Stop it," she murmured, "Please... stop."

He pulled away from her and loosened his belt, pulling his trousers down enough to expose his (rather small) erect member. He positioned himself between her legs.

"Are you ready, Christine?"

"I said stop!" she screamed, trying to push him off of her.

He held her down fast, and looked into her eyes as he made to enter her. The complete, utter fear and hatred that he found in them made him stop short of the terrible deed. He stayed there, frozen, a moment before backing off her; he got off the bed and pulled his trousers up, before kneeling next to the bed.

"Christine..." he whispered.

Tears ran down her cheeks; she turned her away from him. Never in her life had she been so frightened, never in her life had she felt so helpless and vulnerable. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. She hated him. She hated him. She had sacrificed so much just to save her husband's heart from breaking as hers had. She had done all of it just so he wouldn't get hurt. She needed to get out, but for some reason she felt she couldn't move from the bed... She was just too frightened.

"Christine," he repeated, "Please forgive me..."

"No," she whispered, finally finding her voice. "No," she said again, her voice growing in volume. "I can't do this anymore! How could you!" she sobbed, getting up from the bed, gathering her torn chemise and nightgown, clutching them to her naked body. "I thought you were a good man," her body shook as she screamed at him, backing away. He rose to his feet.

"I am," he whispered, "I just... lost my head..." He knew there was no way to justify his behavior, but that did not keep him from trying.

"Stay away from me," she whispered, continuing to back away from him, "Don't... Just stop." He stopped following her, but continued pleading.

"Christine, please... We'll just go to bed and forget this ever happened," he finished weakly.

"You honestly think that I will just hop into bed with you after that?" she said, her eyes widening. Her hand found the wardrobe and she opened it, not turning from him, afraid that he would try something again. She found her robe and wrapped it around her, blindly emptying the drawers of her clothing. She grabbed a trunk and stuffed her garments into it. "I'm leaving... Don't try to stop me."

"Christine, no. Where will you go?"

"Why the hell should I tell you? Do not try to play the victim, Vicomte."

Her coldness hurt him; he knew he was powerless to stop him. He sat weakly on the bed as she made for the door.

"I'm sure you can find someone else to satisfy your needs," she said, her voice shaking, before exiting the room, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't know where she was to go; she assumed she would check into an inn in the city, at least until the money she had in her own account was spent. Once that happened, she did not know where she would go, but she would not go back to Raoul, not after tonight.

x

Raoul stared at the door she'd left open long after she'd left. He would find her.

x

Once she had boarded a carriage and was headed into the city, she changed out of her robe and into a chemise and dress. Soon enough, the carriage came to a stop in front of an inn. It was late at night, and the streets of Paris were empty as she got out of the carriage and went into the inn; the cabby bringing her trunk behind her. Thankfully, she had a bit of money in her handbag, and she paid the clerk at the front desk, checking in under her maiden name, then was shown up to her room. It was quite nice, with a double bed and a view that overlooked the city. Soon after she had settled in, she undressed and climbed into the bed, hoping that she would make it through somehow.

x

Erik lie in his own bed, feeling, strangely, that something was amiss, though he could not explain why. He did his best to shrug it off and fall asleep.