God was a mean son of a…that was his firm conviction as he stood there in the darkness, pressed in on all sides by racks of costumes, with a woman pressed more closely and intimately against him than any other creature had ever been. All this so that he could listen to the little sighs and moans of pleasure from Christine's throat as she and that wretched boy made love.

The supreme irony that would have fed him with sarcastic joy in this situation was dampened by the fact that he was incredibly embarrassed at his body's reactions. But how could he help it? Here he was, just feet away from the one true love of his life, listening to her in the throes of pleasure – a pleasure he had long dreamed of being the one to give her. And of all the people to witness, or feel as the wretched case might be, this humiliation, it had to be Lily.

He took a pinch of solace in the fact that her body seemed to tremble as well in his arms, though the tension he felt in her frame suggested that she trembled not from desire.

"What would your angel think of you now, Christine," Raoul chuckled, his voice sounding thick with heat and kisses.

"I don't think he would care," she whispered with a giggle. "He is concerned with my singing, not my kisses."

"No, those are definitely my concern."

He thought his head would explode with the heat of his rage. It was only Lily's reaction to the next words spoken that saved him from jumping out from the shadows and strangling them both then and there.

"Have you ever been in love, Raoul?"

"I am now, my darling, Christine."

"No, I mean before now. What about that pitiful little urchin girl you told me about? The one who used to follow you around and borrow your books?"

He heard Raoul laugh derisively. "The poor little thing was besotted with me, I have to admit," he said, his tone full of amusement. "It was rather pathetic, too. That she should think I could ever love her – her! A common pickpocket, a street girl! No, my heart was always kept pure for Little Lotte."

If he hadn't had a firm grip on her, she would have given them both away. She jerked fiercely in his arms as he struggled to pin her to him and keep her still.

Mercifully, there came a sudden banging at the door and the blessed voice of Madame Giry announced exactly what was going to happen if Christine did not come out that very instant.

There was a hurried rustling of clothing and hushed laughter, then the sound of the door opening and closing. The instant he thought they were alone, he whisked Lily with him back through the secret panel and into his hidden passage.

There, he finally let go of her, and in the next instant wished he hadn't. Lily turned and slammed her fist into the wall with a force that made him wince. She pulled back her arm to do it again, but this time he caught her, pinning her to him and hushing her as she shook with rage and grief.

He needed to get them both back to his house by the lake, to think, to understand all that had just happened. Without further ceremony, he swept Lily up into his arms, absently marveling at how quickly he had gotten used to touching another human being, and took them at a quick pace back to his lair.

He placed Lily on his bed and quickly fetched a roll of gauze, returning to her side and taking her bruised and bloodied hand in his. He felt the strangest ache in his heart as he looked at her, seeing her unwavering, agonized, rage-filled gaze locked on the nothingness before her.

Gently, he wound the gauze around the abused knuckles of her little hand. He wanted to say something kind, something comforting to her, but no words would come to his agile mind. All he could think of were the cold, hard facts.

"The boy, Raoul," he said softly. "He was the one you loved?"

Almost mechanically, she turned to him, and he was again shocked by the depth of sorrow and betrayal in her clear, grey eyes. She nodded slowly, her little body shuddering.

"What happened?" he asked, almost more to himself. To his surprise, the girl gestured upwards. He frowned, trying to guess what she meant.

"He came here to the opera house?" he ventured and was relieved to see her nod.

She gestured for him to stand up, which he did, and she made him turn his back on her. He glanced over his shoulder back at her. She tapped herself and shook her head.

"It wasn't you," he interpreted, seeing Lily nod. He watched as she screwed her face up into an ugly expression, something he had seen in far too many men. She pretending to sneak up on him. Then, she broke character and became her self again. She threw herself between him and the imaginary assailant. She clutched at her throat with her hands then gestured outwards.

"Your gang was going to attack him," he said softly, finding that he had an unaccountable urge to wrap her in his arms, even though he held back. "You protected him, screaming to raise an alarm."

He watched as Lily's eyes filled with tears, and he spoke the final words of her terrible story. "And for that, they cut out your tongue."

He felt a spasm of rage, spun around and lashed out, knocking a tall bronze candelabra to the ground.

"What a wicked web!" he snorted, storming and pacing. "You betray evil men, only to find that Raoul has betrayed you with the one who…betrayed me," he growled.

His angry tirade was arrested when he turned and found her still standing where he had left her. She watched him with eyes that swam in tears, and he felt something break inside of him, some dam give way to a reservoir of need that he had denied for so long.

He crossed the floor to her with long, purposeful strides. In an instant, she was in his arms, and he was doing the unthinkable – covering her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and her lips in feverish kisses.

"It is just us, Lily," he murmured raggedly. "Just us."

A/N: Well, hope this satisfied people's curiosity of how the scene in the costume room was going to be resolved. However, we have not seen the last of Christine and Raoul! If you think you can guess what is going to happen, then just remember - I am evil. Really evil. "Wicked" evil, as we say here in Boston. And this particular chapter ending may not seem like a cliffie...but then again, remember...I am evil :)

Yours in mishcief,

Kate September