Chapter Summary: Raoul contemplates the state of life, wondering where his marriage has gone. He begins to grieve what he has lost and returns home to give Christine what he believes will make her happy – her freedom to go to her Angel. Unfortunately, there are others who have different plans for the young man ...
(A/N – Chapter Warning here folks! Have your tissues, smelling salts, nitro pills … whatever … nearby and ready to use … I'm just saying …)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The horse waited at the bottom of the stone stairs that led to the front door of Chagny. Throughout his life Raoul had hopped, skipped and run up and down those very stairs. He had chased after his older sisters, crying as they had left the young child alone with only staff to keep him company. He had walked up the stairs with what dignity an adolescent could muster as he returned home during school holidays, dreading the inevitable meeting with his father. He had flown down the stairs to greet the older brother he adored on the occasions when Philippe could be bothered to draw himself away from the bright lights of Paris. And he had walked up those stairs with an angel on his arm upon returning from a honeymoon All those thoughts and more went through Raoul's mind as he walked down those stairs to the horse that was saddled and ready for him. As Raoul took the reins from the waiting stable boy, he put all those memories back into the locked boxes of his mind. As he mounted the chestnut gelding, Raoul buried the memories of his wife in the darkest corner his thoughts could reach.
He hoped they would stay there but knew they would not.
"Thank you," Raoul told the stable boy. He thought for a moment, feeling the memories of his marriage calling to him from the darkness and decided he needed a fast gallop over the open countryside rather than a quiet walk down his favorite wooded trail. Raoul turned the horse's head toward the end of the lane and began to canter down it.
"Raoul!" a female voice called after him.
Raoul closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to ignore the pleading tone of the voice calling his name. He clicked his tongue at his mount and kept moving.
"Raoul!" his wife's voice screamed.
Raoul could not see past the hurt he was feeling toward Christine. There was a brief moment when he thought of turning around and running to his wife's arms but the moment quickly disappeared into the overwhelming anger as Raoul remembered that Christine had willingly lied to him. The anger exploded outwards as he realized she had been lying to him for weeks. Raoul shut out the anguish he heard in that scream and dug his heels into the horse's flanks, horse and rider disappearing down the lane, leaving a kneeling woman sobbing at the bottom of the stairs, a confused stable boy standing nearby.
I do not care, I do not care, the thought echoed to every beat of Raoul's heart, every pounding hoof beat of the horse that raced further and further down the country lane. Horse and rider flew over the peaceful countryside until Raoul could no longer hear his wife's screams through the scream of the wind in his ears. He began to pull back on the reins, allowing the horse to slow gradually. Unfortunately the pounding, racing rhythm of his heart did not slow with the horse. As the horse finally stopped, Raoul leaned forward, placing his forehead against the short, scratchy hair of the mane that ran along the neck bone. He straightened and slid from the saddle; the horse turned his head and snorted. Raoul managed something that sounded like a brief laugh as he patted the animal's neck before walking down the road.
Raoul did not see the green trees that went past. Nor did he take note of the early summer wildflowers that waved merrily in sunny fields. He did not see the workers in plowed fields or the others that passed him on the road. Raoul could not feel the warmth from the sun shining so brightly overhead and he could not smell the lightly scented breeze that blew past, ruffling his hair. He could not hear the birds singing or the leaves rustling or the sound of his own boots upon the hard packed dirt of a country lane. Raoul was so numb and withdrawn into himself that it was almost as if a ghost were leading the horse through the French countryside.
A ghost, Raoul thought somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, how amusing.
Raoul did not know how long or how far he had walked his horse before he once again began to take note of the world around him. The sun had reached its zenith and was beginning to travel toward the tops of the mountains in the distant horizon. Raoul stopped, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to feel again. He felt the ache from feet that had walked too long and too far. He felt the throbbing in his temples from the emotionally charged blood that raced through every inch of his body. He felt the gentle nudge from a velvety nose at his shoulder. Raoul opened his eyes again to look at his horse and felt a wonderment dawn as he finally took note of where he was, recognizing the scenery.
"I think it is time for both of us to have a rest," Raoul told the horse as he ran a gentle hand over the nose that had brought him further back from the overwhelming numbness that had gripped him ever since he had read the telegram hours earlier.
Raoul walked his horse a little further before turning into a nearly hidden path that led into the woods. He knew this path; he had known it since the first time Philippe had guided him along the disused path that led from the family stables. The path meandered through the woods, moving in and out of the trees, cutting through Chagny land and land to which there was no clear title. It moved back and forth across a thin, shallow river and it was to that river that Raoul led his horse. Man and beast stopped at the edge of the water, Raoul tying his mount's reins to a nearby tree. The horse dipped his head toward the water as Raoul sat down, leaning back against the tree.
"I should have let her go," he said to the horse as it raised its head from the water to look at him before turning its attention to the sweet green grass. Raoul closed his eyes. "I should have let her go." He shook his head in pain as he thought of the woman he loved.
Two years ago he had not believed his eyes when he had seen his childhood friend looking and singing like an angel in front of all Paris. And to think that she had remembered him was nearly more than anything for which he could hope. He had thought her very young and very sweet when she began to speak of the angel which her father had sent. But then there came glimpses of a fear that accompanied her angel, a fear which held her in a tight grip. It was a grip so tight that he wondered what kind of a monstrous thing could do something so evil to such innocence. It would not be long until he would come to know what it - no, who - who it was that held this precious woman in such fear. Yet it had not only been fear that she felt.
Raoul hung his head, placing it on his upraised knees as jealousy began a wild dance with the anger that still held him tightly.
That man. That damned Phantom. He had been there for Christine when she was a lost child looking for a friend. He had been there to guide her through a world full of grieving confusion toward her dream. He had been there for her when Raoul was not and somewhere along the way a bond had been formed - a bond between teacher and pupil, man and woman. A bond that Raoul could barely understand and would never be able to break. Yet he had seen the fear in Christine's eyes whenever her angel was mentioned. He had also seen something warmer in her expressive eyes, an emotional light that Raoul had hoped was for him alone. It had started as a waking dream that worried him and became a horrid reality the night the opera had burned.
He had struggled through fire and water to rescue the woman he longed to make his wife, the image of her held tightly in that man's arms urging him onward. He had finally found her with that other man. He had found her and in his concern for her safety had ignored the small voice that spoke at the fringes of his mind. He had ignored it and his stubbornness had forced Christine into an untenable position. But had it been all that untenable? She had whispered she loved him but then she had gone into that man's arms willingly. And she had embraced him in a way that she had never done for him. She had embraced him like a lover. No. She had embraced him as if he were the love of her life. Even when he had let them go, she had gone back to him.
"She cannot let him go," Raoul said to no one as he raised his head. He reached for a small rock and tossed it into the water, watching the ripples spread outward from the center. "What apt imagery," he snorted.
Every second of their married life, the Phantom had been there, in the center of their lives. Each day they were together was another ripple outward from the Phantom. There had been the ripples close to the Phantom, the fears and nightmares of those first few months together. Yet as time had passed and they had moved forward, the fears and nightmares rippled outward, slowly beginning to fade away. The lives they began to build for themselves growing and expanding, drawing in new friends and new experiences, continuing to move further and further from the haunted center from where they had started.
Raoul reached down to pick up another small stone. He tossed it into the fading ripples from the first stone. He watched as the original ripples were broken and distorted. They faded away and were lost in the new ripples that spread outwards from a new center. A new center and new ripples swallowed the thin, fragile ripples that had been created from the old center. Raoul sat quietly and watched as all the watery ripples spread outwards and disappeared into the greater whole.
"Our lives together," Raoul whispered softly. "Gone. Just like the ripples." He leaned his head his head against the bark of the tree, feeling the rough edges scrape against his scalp. Raoul welcomed the sensation for it reminded him that he was actually still alive, still breathing, still feeling. He looked up toward the sky and let his thoughts drift.
He should have known their happiness together could not have lasted. He had allowed himself to grow complacent as the days and nights they shared together slipped one into another. They had enjoyed golden days full of laughter and silvery nights full of passion. They had laughed and argued and loved. They had taught each other, growing as individuals even as they grew together to make one safe and loving refuge from the outside world. But as the days grew into weeks that grew into months that slowly began to grow into years, he had begun to see a longing in her eyes. He recognized the look for he was sure she had seen the very same look in his eyes – the longing to hold a breathing, cooing, squirming symbol of their devotion and love for each other in their arms. They had tried so hard but still no child came to gladden their hearts and he watched as tiny, almost infinitesimal pieces had begun to break away from her. He would not have cared if there had never been children for she was enough for him - she would always be enough - but he would not say that to her. He could not have hurt her in such a manner. He could not take away her dreams of being the mother she had never known.
And then suddenly, without warning, she had begun to move away from him. Oh, it had been subtle at first; quick kisses rather than long, lingering ones, polite hugs rather than passionate embraces. He should have known something was wrong but could not see beyond the love and adoration he felt for the incredible woman who had chosen to marry him. Then came the stilted conversations, the seemingly forced effort to find something in common about which to speak. The separation was growing and he could no longer ignore it and struggled to make up for something he could not remember doing. He brought her the fragrant lilies that had marked the start of their lives together – a long silent, mutual agreement forbidding roses from their presence. He deferred to her wishes in public and in private and that was when their marital bed became a cold and barren wasteland. It was the moment when a thought had grown in the back of his mind, a thought that frightened him beyond all rationale. It was the thought that had finally coalesced into reality with the arrival of the telegram that morning – there was someone else. And Raoul was certain he knew who it was.
"Damn you, damn you, damn you," Raoul said through clenched teeth as he saw a white-masked face in every cloud that passed by.
She had not loved him, not the way she had loved her angel. He was her safety and her refuge. He was her second choice. He was the alternative to a man who set a passionate fire burning in her soul. His love was not frightening but calming. He had not spent a life living in the dark, dangerously going against every societal dictate. He had played by the rules all his life and did not know any other way to live. He could offer her nothing but his heart and soul and – in the end – it had not been enough. He had not been enough for her. She needed more; far more than he could ever hope to be and she had obviously found it. Raoul could only hope that she had not found it in her angel but he knew he hoped in vain. That man's pull on her emotions was too great to overcome.
Raoul wanted to cry for the aching loss he was beginning to feel in his heart. He felt almost as if someone had died, leaving a huge void that could never possibly be filled. He would need time to grieve after she left him to return to her angel. Perhaps he could go to America. It was a huge land and he could easily get lost there. No one there would know him, would know his life story and with time he might even find some sense of peace. Yet he knew it would be a hollow peace for he would be a hollow shell of a man without the biggest part of his heart. He would walk and talk and breathe but he would do it through the shroud of numbness that now enveloped him from head to toe. A stray thought passed through his mind and Raoul wondered if he would die from this loss. A stranger thought followed causing Raoul to wonder if Christine would be happier if he were dead. He closed in his eyes in pain knowing that once she was back in the arms of her angel she would not care if he lived or died.
Raoul let out a long breath as he rose to his feet; he could not sit in the woods all afternoon for it was only delaying the inevitable. He walked to his horse, untying the reins and slipping a foot into a stirrup. He pushed off with his free leg easily mounting the horse and adjusting his position on the soft leather of the saddle. He looked around contemplating which way to go home before choosing the familiar path through the woods. Raoul did not wish to see anyone he would need to acknowledge. Nor did he want anyone to see him for he wished to mourn his loss in private. He needed to mourn what he could before he reached Chagny and would need to compose himself. He would not allow the world to see any weakness from him. Raoul would find the grace and dignity to give his wife the freedom to find her happiness and once she was gone then – and only then – would he allow his outer façade to crack, giving way to the grief and the ache and the numbness.
"Home," he said in a sad tone of voice as he turned the horse's head, lightly tapping the reins against the animal's shoulders.
They walked in silence through the shadowed woods Raoul's hands barely holding to the reins for the horse knew the way. The horse had been down this path many a time, cantering with head held proudly, racing with eyes ever alert for the stray obstacle and now walking slowly somehow sensing the sadness of his rider. The horse moved with ease, plodding along, always sticking to the path before him. Neither rider nor mount looked left or right but kept eyes narrowly focused on what lay before them; the horse following an ingrained memory and Raoul trying to outrun his own. The horse turned a corner in the path the led through a thick group of trees before emerging into a small open area, picking up his ears, raising his head.
Raoul did not miss the animal's actions. "What is it?" he wondered. The area was known for poachers and Raoul was not in the mood to deal with any other humans.
"Get back here you," a voice called out, followed by a crashing noise echoing through the trees.
The horse began to rear as a man ran from the woods. Raoul tightened his grip on the reins as the horse backpedaled, struggling to gain control.
The man finally stopped as he heard the snorting of the horse. He raised his eyes to see a young man trying to control an animal that pawed at the ground and tossed its head.
"Pardon, young sir," he said with a tip of his hat.
Raoul got his mount under control. "Who are you?"
"Louis," the man replied, "just Louis." He looked worried. "I ain't in any trouble, am I?"
Raoul shook his head. "No," he said. "Do you know where you are?"
"Yes," Louis told him. "This is Chagny land. I heard from some of the villagers that it was okay to hunt on these lands." He briefly dropped his head. "My family needs to eat."
"It is fine," Raoul assured him. "Just make sure you only take what you can use."
"Aye, sir."
"And try to exercise a bit of caution," Raoul warned. "There are riders that pass this way and I would not like to see you become injured."
Louis looked up at the rider, a strange look on his face. "I would not like to see you become injured, either," he said in a voice full of deadly seriousness.
There was something in his eyes that made Raoul further tighten his grip on his horse's reins. "Excuse me," he said, "I must return home."
A gun suddenly appeared in one of Louis's hands as the other reached out to grip the reins that hung from the bit in the horse's mouth. "You ain't going anywhere."
"Let go of my horse," Raoul told him through clenched teeth.
"Do not try anything," Louis warned, a feral smile crossing his face. "Look behind yourself."
Raoul turned his head to see another man behind him. There was another gun pointed at him. He turned back to look at Louis. "What do you want?"
"The horse for starters," Louis said and waved the gun at Raoul. "Off. Now."
Raoul had only thought to go for a ride to escape from the emotional turmoil of the morning and had not come prepared for a confrontation. He did as he was told, slipping easily from the saddle to stand on the ground.
"Francois," Louis called out and a man appeared from the shadowed woods. "Take the horse," he told Francois, never taking his eyes from Raoul. "Money," Louis said as he held out a hand.
"I have none," Raoul replied evenly, unwilling to show any fear in front of these men.
"Surely a man who rides such a fine mount and dresses in such fine clothes must carry a few francs upon his person," Louis said smoothly, his hand still out.
"I left from my home and planned to return to it," Raoul replied. "There was no need for me to carry any funds."
Louis studied Raoul silently for a moment, his eyes drifting to the flash of gold at Raoul's neck. "The cross, then," he ordered. "And slowly," he warned.
Raoul clenched his teeth together as he reached up to his neck to unclasp the chain holding the cross he never took off. It had been his mother's cross and was the only thing he had ever had of the woman he had never known but it was not worth his life. Raoul removed the cross placing it into the palm of a hand he extended towards Louis.
"Edouard," Louis called out and a fourth man appeared from the woods.
Edouard approached Raoul and took the cross from his hand, placing it in his pocket and as he did so, Edouard gripped the wrist of the outstretched hand. "Look at this," he said to Louis as he held up the hand upon which rested a signet ring.
"The ring as well," Louis ordered.
The anger he had felt since confronting Christine about her lies was multiplying by the anger Raoul felt toward the situation in which he found himself. The anger was drowning out the ache and the numbness Raoul had been feeling. He turned to look at Edouard. "Let me have my hand back and you can have the ring," he said, breathing through his nose.
Louis caught the change in the young man's attitude. They could afford no mistakes now. "Nico," he said softly.
Suddenly Raoul could sense another body closing in behind him and he remembered the other man and the other gun.
"Give him his hand," a voice with the smoothness of a snake said from behind Raoul.
Raoul briefly rubbed his wrist as Edouard released it before reaching in to remove the family signet ring. He carefully placed it in Edouard's hand, watching as the man smiled at him before going to stand next to Francois and his horse.
"That is everything of value I have on me," Raoul said. "Take it and go. I will say nothing."
"I think not," Louis said. His gun pointed at Raoul's left hand. "The other ring," the man ordered.
Raoul was startled. "No," he said softly.
"Give us the ring!" Louis's tone was growing deadly.
Raoul allowed his gaze to wander down to his left hand. He stared at the simple gold ring with the entwined initials. Raoul slowly closed his eyes and swallowed. "No," he repeated.
The sound of a trigger being pulled back cut through the potent silence.
"On your knees!" Louis ordered as he leveled the gun at Raoul's forehead.
Raoul dropped to his knees, his hands closing. The middle finger of his left hand gently rubbed against the ring he refused to give up. It was all that remained of the life for which he had dreamed. It was all that was left to remind him that once he had been happy. It was all that was left to remind him that once he had been loved by an angel. "Christine," he whispered to himself. Pain flared, burning his heart as Raoul thought that at last things would be the way they should have always been and Christine could go to her Angel and be happy. Raoul could sense the man behind him close in. He moved his eyelids down, shutting out the bright light of day as he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel placed against the base of his skull. "I love you," Raoul mouthed silently, knowing he would take his love into eternity.
The crack of a gunshot echoed through the quiet woods startling birds out from their perches, sending them squawking into the spring air.
Nico moved around to stand next to Louis, his fingers wiping at the blood on the handle of his pistol. He watched as Louis bent over, reaching down to pull the gold ring from Raoul's finger. He stood, twisting it in his hands, squinting as he tried to make sense of the strange images on the back of the ring.
At the sound of the gunshot another man - far more well-dressed - emerged from the trees. He strode over, looking down at the still figure on the ground before holding out his hand. "Give it to me," he said as a disgusted frown crossed his face. "And do be careful with that gun; we do not want anyone hurt."
"Sorry," Louis replied as he handed over the ring. "Is that writing?"
"Yes," the well-dressed man replied as a smug smile crossed his face. "It says 'One love, one lifetime.' How touching." He spared one last glance at the body on the ground. "You know what to do with him," he told the men gathered about as - once again - he disappeared into the trees.