Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: Continuation of Broken. ErikRaoul slash fic. A brief moment of happiness after they split up.

Warning(s): homosexual content, slash!

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: It's times like this I wish I had read the book because then I would include more characters like Philippe but I really don't know it well enough. So, we've basically just got a stage ALW-verse of POTO. Hope it's good enough.

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Torture

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Life was getting progressively worse for both men. A mere three days from the incident and both were in the worst of conditions.

Raoul had fallen ill. He lay in his bed not eating, not drinking, not speaking, and the only act he did was sleep, and even that was fitful. His family was starting to worry for him. He looked pale and had a high temperature. No one could get him to do anything. They figured it was due to the brush with the Phantom of the Opera. It was, but not in the way they thought.

Christine had visited once, right after he had been brought home. It was the only time he had spoken. He became enraged, yelling at her and telling her to leave him alone. Their engagement was off and he never wanted to see her face, hear her voice, never wanted to be in her presence unless absolutely necessary.

The household had heard the story of how Raoul's and Christine's lives were saved with a kiss. They assumed Raoul felt betrayed. He did, but once again not in the way they thought.

He was barely conscious, and his family feared that if they didn't do something drastic they would lose him.

Raoul was letting the dreams take over. He often saw the eyes of his love, thought he was being watched. He could still feel Erik's hands on him. Sometimes he imagined he could also remember being carried through tunnels when he had been shot. He didn't want to live. Nothing was worth it. Nothing. Seeing Christine had only rubbed salt into his already open wounds. At night, when he was finally left alone, he cried. The first two nights, he cried without ceasing until morning. By the third night, he had no more tears. Raoul could only stare into space. He welcomed the darkness. He always felt a little closer to Erik in the night. Felt that the shadows might be something more, be someone.

Raoul was waiting. He wasn't quite sure yet what that was, but he was beginning to assume it was death.

-.-

Erik had scarcely moved from his position from the floor. He, too, had run out of tears before the pain had even begun to recede. If anything, Erik was feeling worse with each second that passed.

He was waiting, too. He was certain though and obstinately waiting for death. He had come to the conclusion that he deserved it. It wasn't because of the murders he had committed. It wasn't because of the kidnapping. It was because he had made an angel cry.

Erik closed his eyes. He was not sure how long he had been lying on the floor, but he knew that it had been more than a day. He had barely moved. He didn't have any strength to do so.

He knew though, that he had to make sure that Raoul had made it out safely. He convinced himself that the only way he would be able to die in peace – though he thought he didn't deserve a peaceful death – would be to check on Raoul. Thoughts of the Vicomte were the only ones he had. He would have gotten up sooner to check, but his body had refused to move. His mind had refused to think beyond the fact that he had hurt Raoul and had sent him away, probably forever.

Erik rolled over onto his stomach and forced himself into a crawling position. The only motivation he had was the thought that Raoul might have fainted again and not been able to get out. Spurred on by his fear for the blonde, he stood up, leaning heavily on the door he was to open. He made his way through the door and into the tunnel that would lead him out of the passageways. He was relieved to see that it was night, or else he would have had to wait, and he could feel his energy leaving him already.

It had taken too much effort to pull himself off the floor.

He took to the shadows. It was well into the night and no one was about in the city. Still he was wary of being so open. He paused once to look at the extensive damage done to the Opera House. Blackened by the fire and almost to ruins. He would have felt remorse, if he had any emotions left. Putting that aside, he walked toward the direction of the Vicomte's house. He knew where it was because he had had to know everything about a rival. If he had been forced, he could have killed the Vicomte as he slept in the 'safety' of his own home.

The estate was not very far, but Erik was stumbling already. He had not seen Raoul in the passageway, so it meant that he had made it outside. So, if he had made it that far, someone would have sent him home. Erik wasn't sure what he wanted to find. Maybe Raoul had already moved on with his life and decided Christine was the girl for him. Maybe he was just as miserable as Erik was. Pining for a love lost. These expectations were his only companion as he made his way through the streets of Paris.

Scarcely an hour before dawn, Erik finally arrived. He slipped onto the grounds, the shadow that he was, and looked through all the windows in search of the one that would reveal his blonde angel to him. He was weary and worried. After searching through almost half of the windows, he finally spotted the room that held his beloved.

Erik was still on the line between denying his love and accepting it. It would all depend on Raoul's appearance. He had to be certain.

He made his way up to the balcony and crouched just outside the balcony doors. No light shone in the room, so he could not see Raoul directly. He could only see the bed and a faint outline of someone with blonde hair. Erik assumed it was this one. He could just feel it.

He was almost satisfied with the fact that Raoul was home in bed, but a strangled cry made him investigate further. He made no sound as he opened the door and slipped in.

Walking silently closer, he knew it was Raoul, knew because each step closer, he could feel his heart beat again. When he was close enough to touch the Vicomte, he saw that Raoul was having a nightmare.

Kneeling bedside, Erik moved to still his thrashing form. Raoul reached out and grabbed his shirt pulling him closer. Erik didn't bother to struggle. He wanted to be closer, needed it as much as he needed air to breathe. Softly, Erik sang to him to soothe him.

Nighttime sharpens,
Heightens each sensation.
Darkness, stirs and wakes imagination.
Silently the senses abandon their defenses.

Slowly, gently
Night unfurls its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it,
Tremulous and tender.
Turn your face away, from the careless light of day!
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling nights.
And listen to the music of the night.

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream!
Leave the thoughts of life you knew before!
close your eyes and let your spirit start to soar.
and you'll live, as you've never lived before.

Raoul immediately calmed at his voice, but he had yet to release his hold of Erik. This close, Erik could feel the unhealthy heat from Raoul's body. He placed a hand on the Vicomte's head and was shocked at the temperature. His Vicomte was sick. Erik didn't want to leave his side, but he could feel the stirrings of his waking. The sun would surely be up soon, and with it, Erik would have to disappear. Still, he could not remove Raoul's grip of his shirt without injuring the blonde further.

Erik contemplated the boy's reaction if he woke up and found Erik sleeping beside him. He grinned at the idea, but immediately lost his amusement when he figured the Vicomte would be infuriated and yell at him. However, he couldn't leave Raoul alone. He would have to somehow watch over his angel since no one around was doing a good enough job. Kissing him softly on the cheek, Erik finally managed to be released from Raoul's grasp. He made his way towards the balcony doors, wondering why he had given into the impulse of kissing him. Without warning, someone opened the room's door. As quickly as he could Erik slid behind the curtains, thankful for their cover. He blended in perfectly with the shadows, years of practice coming to his aid. It was a maid. She took the untouched tray that was bedside away and replaced it with a new tray with fresh food.

Erik had to wait until the room was empty. However, the moment the maid left, Raoul began to wake up. It was barely dawn, and Erik wondered why he was waking up at such a time.

Raoul placed his hand upon his cheek, the same one Erik had kissed. He had had a dream. One of the better ones, in which he actually could hear Erik's voice singing to him and holding him. He had dreamt of a kiss. Raoul sighed. It was dreams like those that made him want to stay alive and die at the same time. If he died he would never have those dreams again, but whenever he had them he would be reminded they were all just that, dreams. The Vicomte turned to his side and saw the tray of food. He hadn't had an appetite since that day he refers to as the 'incident'.

He heard footsteps coming toward his room and closed his eyes, hoping the person would assume he's sleeping and leave him alone. It was his mother. He knew it without having to look. Yesterday, she had decided that the only way to cure him was to be beside him all day.

Erik pressed himself further against the wall. He was tiring and felt trapped. If he had left sooner, he would not be stuck in his love's bedroom.

"Are you feeling better?" the woman who entered the room asked.

Raoul ignored her.

"I know you're awake," she continued as though he had answered. She put a hand on his forehead, feeling for his temperature, "You aren't getting any better. You've been bedridden since you arrived from the Opera House fiasco. It's because you aren't eating. The only time you ever get out of bed is to use the restroom. You will never get better in this manner."

Raoul still ignored her. Ignored the truth in her words. He wasn't sure he wanted to get better. It seemed the sickness was giving him better dreams, so remain sick he would. Raoul heard her sit in the chair that was beside his bed.

His mother continued to talk, "It's a sad thing about this whole affair with you and Christine. I thought you two made such a beautiful couple. I cannot believe you broke off your engagement with her."

Erik couldn't help the relief he was feeling. He had been annoyed at first with the presence of the woman. It was evident Raoul didn't want her around, but if he could obtain the information of what had occurred he would bear standing in the shadows. He was distressed to hear Raoul had been sick the whole time. It did not appear that his shoulder bothered him, at least Erik would not have to worry about an infection. It seemed that Raoul was taking their last meeting badly. Some selfish part hoped it was because of him and not because of some other reason.

"I cannot believe you yelled at her in such a manner."

Erik grinned. He reprimanded himself. He shouldn't be this happy to hear Christine was yelled at. He shouldn't but he was.

"And, now. Now what. You will yell at a perfectly nice young lady, but you refuse to speak to any one else? I am quite insulted with that fact. I would like to hear you speak again. I would like to see you well and eating. It pains me to see you in such a condition."

He lost his happiness. Erik felt each word pierce his heart. Raoul was hurting because of him. Hurting because he had broken his heart. It was some sort of poetic justice that he would have to hear what he had done. See the damage he had caused.

-.-

The woman hadn't stopped talking since the morning. She hadn't left Raoul's bedside and hadn't shut her mouth for the whole time. Raoul had shifted positions on the bed, no longer pretending to be asleep since it would have done him no good anyway. He just stared at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts. Erik, too just stared, stared at Raoul every chance he got. It was now noon and Erik was leaning more heavily on the wall behind him. He was tired. He had barely slept and the woman's incessant chatter made his fingers twitch for his trusty Punjab lasso. This was a form of torture he never would wish upon all his worse enemies. He closed his eyes, but couldn't drown out the talking. He would surely kill the woman before the day was through.

Raoul hadn't spoken since he yelled at Christine, but he knew he would lose his mind if he was continued to be babied as such. His mother had talked all of yesterday, and by all, she had spoken nonstop except for the times she had been eating from morning to night. Another day would be torture, pure torture.

"Moth-" his voice cracked. His throat was dry and felt completely unused. His mother poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.

"Oh, dear," she started.

Raoul raised a hand to stop her from talking. He paused a moment to relish in the silence, "Mother. Will you please leave me be? I just wish to rest."

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, no. I will not leave you alone until I am certain you are on your way to good health."

Erik could have kissed Raoul just then. He had made the woman stop talking. It didn't seem possible.

Raoul looked around for something to save his sanity. He spotted just the thing, "If I eat, will you then leave me alone?"

"I would need to see it occur, then yes, I will leave you to your solitude, if that is what you really want."

Reaching toward the bread, he replied, "It is indeed what I want." He took a bite and another until it had disappeared.

Looking appeased, his mother stood up and walked out of the room. Raoul sighed in relief. She was finally gone. He stood up once he heard her footsteps fade and locked the door, throwing the key to the floor. The room was silent and he closed his eyes to revel in it. He had almost forgotten what silence was like. He climbed back in bed, not wanting to do anything else but brood on his misery.

Erik saw his opportunity. He waited, waited until the Vicomte's breathing had evened out. He needed to get out of that room before anything else happened, daylight or not; he couldn't remain standing. He was already about to fall from exhaustion. Slowly he pulled the curtain aside and made his way toward the doors. Back turned to the bed, he only realized he had been caught when he heard the gasp.

Erik froze. He wasn't sure if he should just make a run for it or turn around and face him.

"How long have you been standing there?" Raoul whispered, afraid that the vision before him was indeed just a ghost and not the man himself. It could have been a hallucination.

Erik turned around but refused to answer the question. The Vicomte looked pale in the sunlight. He looked younger too, almost swallowed up by the size of the bed he lay on.

Raoul touched his cheek again. Had it been just a dream. He had been so certain when he awoke that he heard Erik's voice. "You sang to me."

Erik felt himself walking closer to the bed. He hadn't planned to, but he felt pulled by some force to gravitate closer to Raoul. He needed to justify himself, "I had to make certain you were safe." He stood awkwardly beside the bed. Raoul reached out, like he had in his sleep and pulled on Erik's shirt forcing him to sit on the bed. "You were having a nightmare."

"I've been having them since we parted," Raoul stated, lost in Erik's eyes. The Vicomte pulled him even closer. "Of the darkness and the sadness. It comes to me every time I sleep, chasing me from my rest."

Raoul buried his face in the Phantom's shirt, and was relieved when he felt Erik's arms wrap around him, protecting him from those bad dreams. Erik moved to let go of him for a moment, and Raoul whimpered, saying desperately, "Not yet, no, don't leave just yet."

"Shh," Erik rubbed circles on the blonde's back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, "I'm just moving to a more comfortable position." Erik laid down, pulling the Vicomte in a hug as close as possible to him. He just wanted to rest for bit. Raoul somehow moved closer. He rested his arm on Erik's side and slipped his legs between the other's so that they were practically touching stomachs. Raoul breathed in the scent that was Erik and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Erik could not force himself to stay awake any longer. He had wanted to memorize this feeling. Their legs entwined and Raoul holding him as if he was the most important person in the world. He needed to remember this because after this moment, he knew that he would not be able to allow death to claim him until he could have a complete life with the man in his arms.

He soon followed Raoul into slumber.

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!