Chapter Summary: It has been nearly six months since Raoul and Philippe shared tea and a heartfelt conversation on the back portico at Chagny. Once again the two brothers find themselves alone, sharing a different kind of conversation. And Tallis and Serge arrive at Antoinette's home.

Author's Notes: Okay folks, this chapter contains some icky bits as Raoul finally begins to open up about what has happened to him. I am also going to say that this chapter can be emotionally draining – it took the stuffing right out of me. Finally – still, yet and forevermore – I am giving the old Tissue Issue warning. Weepy, this chapter is also rather weepy. So now you cannot say I did not warn you!

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

"Thank you," Raoul said as he took the glass Philippe handed him, sipping at the water. "I did not think the stairs would be quite so large a challenge," he sighed and placed the glass on the table beside the chair in which he sat. Raoul leaned his head back against the baby-soft leather and closed his eyes. "I am shaking like a tree in a storm and it makes me feel like a child."

Philippe sat down in the chair opposite his brother, a look of compassionate concern on his face. "You have been back barely six weeks. You spent the first two weeks flat on your back in bed. And while you have been growing stronger, gaining back the weight you have lost, this is the first truly huge physical task you have faced." He smiled as Raoul opened his eyes. "I am very proud of you."

"Are you?" Raoul asked softly, trying to straighten his posture and giving up, allowing his tired muscles to lounge in the chair. "Are you really?"

"Lift," Philippe told him as he slid a matching hassock beneath his brother's legs.

"Thank you," Raoul replied and raised an eyebrow. "That still does not preclude you from giving me an answer – are you really proud of me?"

Philippe was taken aback. "How could you even doubt such a thing?" He wondered and looked over his shoulder to assure himself that the door to the small parlor was closed. Philippe turned back to look at his brother. "I am going to say something to you I should have said a very long time ago. It was something I said to Monique one day while we sat outside your … what I thought was your tomb." Philippe shook his head, his brow furrowing in pain and regret. "When I thought you were dead I had a million and one thoughts cross my mind. I thought of so many things that were left unsaid between us. There were so many happy memories but for each of them there was a regret from which I thought I should never be free."

"Philippe," Raoul's chin trembled. "Please, do not. I am sorry. I did not mean …"

"Raoul, you need to listen to me," Philippe's voice took on the slightly authoritative tone that he had used when correcting a much younger brother. "I do not wish to carry these regrets on my heart and soul any longer. Not now. Not when I have a chance to rid myself of them, to make things right between us."

Chagny was an ancient chateau and no matter the improvements made by each succeeding generation, there were still small cracks in the walls. It was through these oft-times nearly invisible cracks that the cold of a late November morning crept in. Raoul could feel the slight chill in the air and he turned his gaze toward the hearth, glad to see the fire that snapped and crackled behind the screen. He had never thought the sight of a something so normal as a fire in a hearth would ever bring such warmth to a heart and mind still chilled by the icy fingers of memories Raoul longed to forget. "Things were never wrong between us," he said softly.

"No, perhaps they were not," Philippe agreed. "But we did have our moments – and before you say anything – such things are perfectly normal in families."

Raoul could only nod as he turned back to his brother. He watched as Philippe rose to his feet, moving forward slightly so that he could perch on the edge of the hassock.

"What I want to say to you, what I never had the strength to say to you, what I need you to know is this – that you are the man I wished…" Philippe paused to correct himself, "wanted to be. You have strength of character from our father that is tempered by our mother's compassion." Philippe smiled, his eyes softening as he thought of the woman that Raoul had never known. "You would have loved her, Raoul; she was sweet and gentle and so very beautiful. And she would have loved you right back and I know that she – and our father – are as proud of you as I am."

Raoul shrugged his shoulders. "But I have done nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing?" Philippe was incredulous. "Do you not remember how you always stood up to me? How you always insisted on having your own way and would only back down when I could prove that you were wrong?" Philippe waited as Raoul reluctantly nodded his head. "Do you not remember how you were ready to turn your back on everything to marry Christine? Such a thing was not even done on principle; it was done because you knew you were correct. And now you have survived something that would have destroyed most men. It would have destroyed me." Philippe paused to let out a sigh. "Your death did destroy me."

"I would not know that, would I?" Raoul wondered rather bitterly and pushed himself up so that he was sitting straighter, able to look his older brother in the eye. "Why did it take a trusted family friend to let me know what happened when everyone thought I was dead? Why did it take Christine's companion to tell me she has been ill? Everyone says how happy they are that I am still alive but none of you treat me in such a manner! Everyone walks on egg shells around me and I am sick of it! I just want to be treated like I have always been! I want to be Raoul and not some damn Lazarus miraculously risen from the dead!" He slammed his hands into the padded arms of his chair. "Dammit!" he moaned in pain, forgetting still healing nail beds. Raoul glared at Philippe as he flexed aching fingers. "I suppose I should be glad you did not just jump up and immediately run around like some damn fish wife screaming at the top of her lungs for a doctor."

Philippe refused to respond to his brother's anger. "Yes, you are correct, your family has been exceedingly careful about what we say and do around you. I will not deny it nor shall I apologize for it. But for one moment, Raoul – just one single moment – have you ever wondered why that is?" There was utter silence from Raoul. "I know you were in a horrible place and had to endure things that none of us cannot even imagine in our most fevered dreams. Yet you were not the only one suffering." Philippe shook his head and rested a hand on his brother's leg as Raoul opened his mouth. "I am not saying that what we suffered was in any means or manner comparable to anything you endured but we did suffer. Do you have any idea of how many lives you have touched? I think Christine put it best – she said that she needed to get out of Chagny because she heard your voice in every whisper, would look for you at the sound of every opening door, could smell your cologne on the sheets in which she slept. All of us, Raoul – every last one of us – felt the same. Your ghost haunted every single inch of this place. Everywhere any of us would turn, there would be a memory of you and to know that there would only be those memories nearly tore this family apart."

"Philippe …" Raoul pleaded in shaky voice.

"Xavier went to Paris to search for Christine when my own men could find no trace of her. It was the worst feeling in the world to know that your wife was somewhere far away from the family who loved her. What was left of my heart broke when I got the letter saying she was with child. I did not know how to face the rest of my life with the knowledge that a part of you still existed and that I would never know that child. I felt so empty when I would think that I would never know if the child had your smile or your eyes or your laugh. Henri became so tormented by the thought that he would be asked to live up to the standards that you set, that he began to have visions and hear voices; he thought he was losing mind."

Raoul was silent for a moment as he studied his brother's face, as yet uncertain of what he saw written upon Philippe's countenance. "What about you, Philippe? What about you?"

"I … um …" Philippe shook his head. "This is going to sound very selfish on my part but you deserve my honesty." He sighed. "I felt like I was being punished." He winced at the look that crossed Raoul's face. "I finally felt secure. I finally felt our family's future was secure. You were happy with your Christine. Our sisters were happy with their husbands and families. I was happy here in the country surrounded by my friends and Henri could provide the amusement for us all. Everything was so perfect and then – suddenly and without warning – it all fell apart. It felt like God was punishing me for enjoying the happiness in the world around me and I was ready to do whatever penance He wanted. Or the Devil demanded. I had thought of selling Chagny at one point because I could not stand it here without you." Philippe shook his head. "Luckily, I am not that far into my dotage that such an idea would be anything more than a passing thought. But I was ready to leave here; I ordered the rooms that you and Christine occupied to be locked forever. I sent telegrams to Paris asking that everything you and Christine left behind be packed into trunks and conveyed to the attic."

"Why?" Raoul asked. "Dear God, Philippe, why?"

"Because I finally had to accept that Christine and your child were gone from my life. I finally had to accept that you were gone from my life. I finally had to grow up." Philippe reluctantly admitted. "I was finally going to live the life I had watched – and envied - you enjoying. I was going to go back to Paris and find a wife. I was going to resume a life I had placed into your capable hands, a life I no longer wanted." Now it was Philippe's turn to cast down his eyes. "I was going to do my damned best to live up to the standards you set. I was going to be everything you ever were so that when you would watch from Heaven, you would be proud of your big brother."

"I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. On. A. Pedestal!" Raoul hissed from between clenched teeth, still throbbing hands reaching up to wipe at angry, frustrated tears. "You want to hear the truth? You want to know what kind of man it is that rests upon that damned pedestal? I will tell you, shall I? I fell from that pedestal the moment I gave in to those bastards. The moment I stopped believing I would come home, the moment I stopped believing that my wife loved me," Raoul turned his head away, "that any of you loved me was the moment I lost any and all self-respect." His voice lowered. "You do not know what it is like, Philippe; and I pray to God you never do. You do not know what it is like to have every second of your life controlled by a madman. You do not know what it is like to be afraid to move or talk or to even breathe without permission." Raoul closed his eyes, drifting away into the memories he fought against, unable to control his words, unable to see the shocked horror upon his brother's face. "You do not know what it is like to be cut just for the simple pleasure of seeing the pain such an action invokes. I would go days without food or water and I learned to stop asking for them, to stop calling out for help. You learn to do such things to avoid the beatings that come upon the heels of such actions. There are only so many ribs that can be cracked or toes that can be broken or bruises that can be re-injured before each old pain fades into a new pain that becomes eternal pain. The human body is not an infinite punching bag."

Raoul did not notice that Philippe had turned on the hassock, his skin taking on a sallow color as Raoul finally began to speak of what he had endured.

"You have no idea how much you begin to long for the drugged water you know they will bring because the drugs allow you to escape from Hell – if only for a little while. Then the drugs were off and you are right back in the thick of it again and you have new cuts and bruises and burns and you are not even sure how you got them." Raoul inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, steadying his nerves. "And the smell of burning flesh is something that you will never forget – especially if it is your own. I cannot rid myself of that damn smell! Even when I hold Christine, smelling the scent of lilies on her skin and in her hair, I can still hear my flesh sizzle from the burning wicks. I can still smell that sickly sweet odor."

Now it was Philippe's turn. "Raoul, you do not …"

But Raoul did not hear him. "They kept me manacled in a stable. I was chained to the wall like some rabid dog." Raoul's voice took on a slightly angry tone. "At least they have the decency to kill a rabid animal and not toy with it for sport." And then his voice grew distant again. "I do not even remember what it was I did but he beat my head against the stone wall of the barn until I blacked out. Do you know where I awoke?" He turned back to Philippe and grabbed his brother's arm so that Philippe would look at him. "Do you?"

"No," Philippe replied softly.

"I was in an iron box." Raoul shook Philippe's arm. "I was locked in a damn iron box and left in the sun for God knows how long." Raoul's tone grew softer. "That was when I started to see her, to see my angel."

Philippe was confused. "Your what?"

"I was losing my mind, Philippe! Can you not understand that? I was seeing and talking to an angel that looked just like Christine! She tried to protect me from them. She was the one who urged me to hold on, to keep faith, to believe that someday I would be coming home. She took me away from there to the beach where Christine and I first met." Raoul shook his head. "But I did not listen to her warnings about the water and I woke up bound and motionless in a coffin."

Philippe closed his eyes in pain as he remembered entering the crypt that glowed an eerie red from the candle in the Presence lamp. He remembered hearing a voice calling out from the dead. Philippe remembered falling to his knees as he realized he was not losing his own mind.

"And I wanted to die," Raoul said softly, his voice even and unemotional. "I finally wanted to die. I could not take any more and I just wanted it to stop. I no longer wished to scream in pain for their amusement. I no longer wished to have thoughts of home, of you, of Christine. I no longer wanted to have something that was beyond my reach. I just wanted it all to end. I even begged him to kill me. I became the one thing I feared most in this world."

Now Philippe was confused. "Pardon me?"

"I am a coward. I gave up. I let them do what they wanted to me and I stop fighting back. I stopped trying. I begged him to kill me." Raoul struggled with his emotions, fighting back the urge to break into tears. "I have become the one thing I feared the most. I have become the one thing I have struggled not to be all my life. I have become the one thing our father said I would become. I have become a coward and I am terrified to let any of you close enough to see such a thing." Once again hands reached up to brush away the tears that Raoul could no longer stop. "And if you dare to say a word of this to Christine…"

"What is said in this room, between brothers, stays in this room – between brothers," Philippe assured Raoul before blurting out, "But how can you possibly think of yourself as a coward?"

Raoul leaned forward to grab his brother by the arms, shaking Philippe slightly. "I gave up! Do you not understand? I gave up! I stopped believing in everything that I hold dear! They even took away my ability to kill myself so I had to beg him to do it for me! I begged him to kill me because I could no longer face the world in which I found myself!" He let go of Philippe and sagged back into the chair, placing his hands over his face. "I gave up. I let everyone down. I am the failure and the coward that Father always knew I would become."

"Dear God, Raoul," Philippe breathed. "This family fell apart without you! We were blown and scattered about like autumn leaves! You were – and are – loved more than you will ever know." There was no answer. "Please take down your hands," Philippe asked. "I have spent too many months without seeing your face and I find I quite like looking upon it."

Raoul lowered his hands, allowing Philippe to take one in his own.

"And you are nothing like what our father declared you to be! He was a bitter, angry man after Mother died."

"And he blamed me for that! I was responsible for taking her from him – from all of you!"

"Is that what you think?" Philippe asked, Raoul nodding in response. "Then – please! – allow me to dispel you of such a foolish notion! I remember when our mother said she was expecting another child – you. She was glowing, Raoul! She was absolutely glowing! She was always an incredibly beautiful woman but you seemed to bring out the best of her beauty. She made so many plans for you. She said you were the blessing she was receiving for having put up with father and having raised three children who had given her nothing but headaches. And then she would laugh and continue to make plans for you. She also knew it was a risk to have a child so late in life but she was so certain you were God's angel sent to her that she would hear no words spoken against you." Philippe lightly squeezed the hand he held. "I can hear her now – in Heaven – lecturing Father on his stubborn, foolish pride and angry bitterness. I know she cried joyful tears when you came back to us. And I know she is laughing in delight that you are soon to be a father and that you will be here to raise your child with all the love with which she wanted to raise you."

"They took her cross, Philippe," Raoul said sorrowfully. "All those years of being so careful with it and now it is gone."

"I know," Philippe nodded back. "I think there may be other pieces of jewelry locked away, other crosses. Mother had a deep faith and I think we can find another cross for you to wear. Perhaps even one to give to Christine and one to your child."

Raoul turned white as a ghost. "What if something happens to Christine?" He gave voice to the thought that he had not dared speak before. "She has had so many difficulties, Philippe! What if … what if she dies? What if the baby dies? I would not be able to go on without them! It would kill me! I know it would!" Raoul shook his head. "I do not want to become our father!"

"You cannot and must not think like that!" Philippe told him. "Christine has fought so hard for this child. You have fought so hard to survive. That you are both here – now – waiting for the birth of your child is surely a blessing and a sign from God." He smiled slightly. "And I know that Mother is watching over all of you, guiding your destinies, protecting your pathways. There is nothing but happiness awaiting all three of you." Philippe nodded. "Of that I am certain!"

A sheepish look passed over Raoul's face. "Promise me you shall remind me of such a thing at every possible moment."

"At every possible second," Philippe replied with a smile, reaching out a hand to rest against Raoul's cheek. "My dear Vicomte," his voice lowered slightly, "my beloved brother." Philippe drew Raoul into a warm embrace. "My best friend," he whispered as he felt Raoul's arms go about him, their touch a combination of desperation, longing and love.

Other friends were also reuniting in the north of France as Antoinette Giry placed her needlework on the settee and rose to her feet, arms reaching out to the young woman who stood in the doorway of her parlor. "Tallis," she breathed, meeting the young woman halfway across the room.

Tallis could find no words and silently clung to Antoinette for a long moment, finally allowing the other woman to draw back slightly.

"Herr Count," Antoinette said as she turned to smile at Serge, inclining her head slightly.

"Madame," Serge replied with a click of his heels. A smile crossed his boyish features. "And it is just Serge, I must insist."

Antoinette smiled her thanks to him and took Tallis by the hand, leading her back to the settee; Serge waited until they were seated before settling into a nearby wing chair. Antoinette could not take her eyes from Tallis' face. "Oh, my poor child," she said. "You do not look happy."

Tallis could not stand the inspection and lowered her eyes. "I am not very happy," she replied. "I am not very happy at all."

"I would like to believe that this unhappiness is caused by your new living situation in England and the fact that you miss me." Antoinette nodded slightly at Serge and knew he understood the meaning of her words and was not offended. She also recognized the twinkle in his eyes and knew she had a partner in her silent prayers. "Yet I do believe that it is so." She placed a finger beneath Tallis chin and raised the other woman's head. "I would like to think that it is because – just perhaps – you are missing a certain gentleman."

"I was missing him," Tallis began. "I was thinking that I had made the biggest mistake of my life by letting him go." Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "He sent me the music he had promised to write for me. It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me! It was sweet and sad and angry and … and … so painfully beautiful! It was … it was … it was everything he was! It was everything we were together." Tallis took back one of her hands brush away the tears. "He knew what it would do to me! He knew! He played me like I was one of his musical instruments! He knew the moment I heard what he had created, I would come running back to him. He knew it and counted on it!" Tallis was growing angry. "And where is he? Gone! He is gone!" Tallis rose to her feet and began to pace about the room, her skirts flouncing about her ankles. "That … that … that Phantom! He sent me that music to bring me back here because he knew he would not be here! He wanted me to make a fool of myself!" She stopped her pacing long enough to glare at Antoinette. "Well, he succeeded! I am the fool he wanted me to be." Tallis' shoulders drooped slightly. "And I am a miserable fool at that."

"You went to the garret first?" Antoinette wondered.

It was Serge who replied. "Yes," he said with a nod of his head. "Tallis insisted." He heaved a great sigh. "It was quite sad, actually. It appeared to me as if no one had ever lived there; as if nothing had been there but the ghosts of the past."

Tallis stopped her pacing for a moment. "How appropriate," she muttered and resumed pacing.

Serge studied her irritation and shook his head sadly before turning back to Antoinette. "Once I realized that Monsieur Herrin was no longer in the garret, I immediately instructed the coach driver to come here. I was hoping that you would know what happened to him. That you might even know where he can be found."

"I do," Antoinette acknowledged, waiting and watching as Serge nodded slightly and Tallis paused in her pacing, turning huge eyes upon her.

"You know," Tallis breathed, her eyes beginning to sparkle with anticipation. "You know where he is? Where? Where is he?"

Antoinette knew her next words would break Tallis' heart. "My dear…" She did not have a chance to finish her sentence for Tallis returned to the settee, staring down into Antoinette's upturned face.

"He did not," Tallis whispered, the sparkle in her eyes turning into a desperate fear. "Please tell me he did not return to that place!"

"He did," Antoinette said simply. She reached for Tallis' hands and pulled the young woman back to the settee. "What did you think would happen?" Antoinette asked. "Did you truly think there would be no consequences from your actions?" Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. "How many times do you think a man like Erik can be denied his dreams or desires before he retreats to the comfort of the familiar? How many times and in how many ways must he be told that he is not like other men before he believes such things? How long before the humanity surrenders to the darkness and the man returns to the Phantom?"

"Why did you not stop him!" Tallis nearly screamed.

"Listen to me," Antoinette commanded, using the stern voice hundreds of ballet rats had cringed from over the years. "I have spent a lifetime saving Erik from himself and I find I no longer have the strength – or desire – to continue to do so."

"But …" Tallis interrupted.

"Fraulein," Serge in turn interrupted Tallis with a voice nearly as stern as that of Antoinette.

Tallis seemed to shrink into herself at the stern rebukes from the two people in the room with her.

"Erik is my friend," Antoinette said a bit more softly. "He will always be my friend but there comes a point when even the best of friends can no longer help each other. There comes a time in every relationship when the end of the road is reached and all that is left to be done is to say goodbye. I knew that. Erik knew that." Antoinette watched as the tears began to flow down Tallis' cheeks. "He and I had come to a parting of the ways and we both knew it. I need peace and quiet and happiness from my life. Erik needed dark and the shadows and the solitude from his. I wanted to live and he wanted to hide. We said our goodbyes and I let him go." Antoinette sighed and pushed down her own emotions as she had done nearly all her life. "It was the most painful thing I have ever done but there was simply nothing else I could do. I am no longer the one who is able to save Erik from himself. That job now belongs to someone else." She smiled slightly at Tallis. "It belongs to you." Antoinette grew serious. "I just pray that you are in time."

Tallis turned to look at Serge. "We must go and we must go now!"

"No," Antoinette said, drawing the attention of the Serge and Tallis back to her. "It is broad daylight and should you be seen entering the opera house, there will be questions asked that cannot safely be answered." She shook her head. "And neither of you know the traps that Erik has set in those dark corridors; I do. I know each of them and I know how to get past them."

"Then you must tell us," Serge interjected, "for I shall not permit Tallis to venture into this rabbit warren of Hell by herself."

"I will tell you," Antoinette said. "I will tell you how to get into the opera house. I will draw you a map of how to reach Erik's lair all the while avoiding his traps. We shall do that today so that by tomorrow at twilight each of you will know the way and you can safely reach Erik." She turned her attention back to Tallis who sat still and silent beside her. "It has been over two weeks, my dear." Antoinette placed a gentle hand on Tallis' arm. "I cannot guarantee what you will find should you reach the lair safely."

Tallis sniffled and wiped at her tears. "Do you not think I know that? I know what I have done. I know that I may all ready be too late but I have to try." She closed her eyes and could hear her music playing through her thoughts, weaving its spell, drawing her into a world from which there could never be an escape. "I have to try."