Raoul's POV

The carriage jostled as it traveled along the rocky path that connected my country estate to the city.

'Our country estate,' I silently corrected myself, allowing a small smile to creep onto my lips. We were together now. I had never really liked the house when it was only me. It always seemed too big, too empty, too lonely. But now, with Christine, it seemed perfect. I knew she loved it. She hadn't lived outside of Paris since she was a small child. Since Gustave died. I had always loved the fact that he allowed me to address him by his first name, even though I was only a small boy at the time. I knew that my father had frowned upon it, but that did not sway Gustave. Perhaps that is what caused me to latch onto the Daae family, but even then, as I reflected, I knew that that was far from the truth. The respect I felt for Gustave Daae was not the reason I had spent all of my free time at the Daaes' sea house. No, the real reason came in the form of a little girl. A very pretty little girl with long dark curls and a bold personality. Even when we were children, I had always felt something for her, though I hadn't known just what the emotion was at the time. I remembered the day she left to come and live in Paris. I had mourned the loss of my friend. I shuddered as I remembered the feeling of that loss amplified tenfold when the Phantom had stolen her down into his lair. I would not lose her again. I didn't think I could bear to lose her again.

I resisted the urge to turn the carriage around and return to her side. The only thing that prevented me from doing so was knowing that she wanted nothing more than to have her friends brought to her. I had promised to return with them, and I would. She had warned me that they might protest, but I intended on persuading them otherwise. If it was what my Little Lotte desired.

The city of Paris was its usual busy self. I carefully guided the horses through the crowds towards the office of Andre and Firmin. I handed the horses off to a small stable boy who looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm sorry," I said, "But have we met before?"

"Yes, monsieur," he replied eagerly, "The night of the fire." Ahh yes. I remember him.

"Of course," I responded, recalling the small boy with all of the questions. I felt a small twinge of guilt; I had been quite short with him. "Jean, right?"

He nodded, obviously ecstatic that I had remembered his name. "How is that woman you were carrying?" I smiled warmly at him.

"She is fine," I replied warmly, "Thank you for remembering. Now can you take these horses and see that they're taken care of?"

"Yes, monsieur,"—he beamed up at me proudly, puffing out his chest with importance—"I've been doing this for years."

"Then I leave them in your capable hands," I said, handing him the reins with a smile. He took them with joy and began to make his way to the stable. The sight of such a small boy next to the large horses was a comical one, but it was obvious he knew what he was doing. I didn't doubt that he had been working in this job for years. I was a shame that boys should be forced to start working at such a young age.

'I should like to have children some day.' The thought took me by surprise. Children were something I had not yet considered, but, the more I thought about it, the more I warmed up to the idea. Yes, children were definitely in the cards, and I had no doubt as to whom the mother would be.

"Vicomte?" I snapped my head around. In the door way of the small building stood Andre. "Ahh, monsieur, we have been waiting. Would you please come in?" I nodded and followed him inside, closing the door behind us. The office was cluttered, full of old documents and other odds and ends. There were two desks, each equally cluttered, and a small stove in the center for heating purposes. Poking at the stoves stood Firmin. Upon hearing the door close, he turned to face us.

"Vicomte," he greeted me warmly, "We're so glad you could come."

"It was my pleasure," I replied, looking about for some place to sit. Seeing me, Andre quickly whipped out chair and placed it in front of one of the desks. I took it gratefully. Firmin walked around the desk, sitting down in the chair that obviously went with the desk, and Andre somehow managed to produce yet another chair from underneath the rubble and sat himself down.

"Drink?" Andre asked, motioning towards a decanter of brandy. I nodded, a drink sounded good right now. He stood up and filled three glasses before returning to his seat.

"And how is Miss Daae?" he asked conversationally, passing the glasses around.

"Fine, still a little frightened, but recovering," I replied, downing the liquor. I did not tell them that she was awoken by nightmares most nights, and that her screams of terror reverberated through the large house. I trembled slightly, remembering the sound. It was the worst sound in the world to me, well, that and the sound of her crying. I quickly downed the liquor. I was never much of a drinker, only taking a single glass of wine with my dinners, but the brandy was able to chase away Christine's screams from my head. I hoped she was all right. My estate was a large one; even I didn't like being there alone, and with all that had happened recently…

'No,' I silently reprimanded myself, she was fine. He would not come looking for her. Would he?

"Vicomte? Vicomte?" It was Firmin. Judging by the look on his face, it appeared as if he had been attempting to speak with me for quite awhile. I forced myself to focus on the issue at hand. The sooner I finished here, the sooner I could return home.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" He shot me a slightly annoyed look, but I was the money. They wouldn't risk an insult.

"Would you consider supporting the re-opening of the Opera Populaire?" he repeated. I had not suspected him to be so direct about this request. I had expected it to come up, but not this quickly.

"What about..."

"Gone," Andre interrupted quickly, "The police found no sign of him. He's left."

"Is that so?" I questioned.

"Yes, it is," reassured Firmin, "I know that you have had the most,"—he paused to search for the right word—"pleasant of pasts concerning this "Opera Ghost", but, again, I assure you, he is gone." I carefully considered his words. If this was true, then I saw no reason not to fund them, but if they were mistaken…

"The public wants their opera," Andre chuckled. I could care less about what the public wanted. If the Phantom was still at the Opera House, the public would have to live without their beloved opera for a time. I would not support putting him back into the power the Opera House granted him. I gave a tired sigh.

"The day is growing late, gentleman. I must be returning home, and I still have another errand to attend to in the city. I shall consult my fiancé and respond to you within the week." I stood up. They looked up at me from where they remained seated. They both had slight looks of astonishment plastered on their faces, probably because I was holding off answering them to consult with Christine, a woman. They recovered and both rose simultaneously, almost kicking their chairs to the floor in their haste. I quickly shook each of their hands and made to leave.

"Will you wait a moment, monsieur?" Firmin asked, "We can send for your carriage and you don't have to walk out in that dreadful cold." It was true, the snow had kicked up. I watched the large flakes drift to the ground through the small window.

"That's quite all right," I replied, "All the more reason for speed. I wouldn't like to be snowed into the city." I gave them one parting smile before leaving the warmth of the office.

I was greeted with a piercing cold. All around, people were bending their heads against the cold and plowing forward to reach their destinations. I hurried in the direction of the public stables, hoping that my carriage was ready. I would have to leave the city very soon if I was to be able to make the journey.

"You're back, monsieur." It was the eager little Jean. He had donned a rather patchy looked coat since I had last seen him. His cheeks were rosy with the cold, but he was still all smiles.

"Yes, Jean," I grinned down at him, "I need my carriage now if I'm not to be snowed in." He nodded and bounced off. I laughed silently as I watched him disappear into the stable. I certainly found this small boy's company much more enjoyable then that of Andre and Firmin combined. It was only a wait of a few minutes before Jean came back into view with my carriage in tow.

"There you go, monsieur," he said, holding them while I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Thank you for your troubles, Jean."

"Oh, no trouble at all, monsieur," he replied with a smile. I suddenly remembered Gustave. I remembered how much I had respected him for as simple a thing as allowing me to address him by his first name. As I looked down at Jean I saw, for a brief moment, myself, not Jean, standing there grinning.

"Raoul," I corrected him softly, "Raoul will suffice." He looked up at me, shocked that a noble had asked him to address them so informally. Before he could say anything, I drove out of the stables. Just as I was about to turn the corner I heard someone call from somewhere behind me.

"Goodbye, monsieur Raoul." I laughed. Well, it was a start.

By the time I reached the Bird and Baby, there was already an inch of snow accumulated on the ground. I was really worried now. I hurriedly jumped from the carriage, passing the reins off to a stable hand, instructing him to wait. I pulled the door open. The sharp contrast of the cold to the warmth was a little shocking at first. I paused in the doorframe while I adjusted to the temperature and the light. Once I was able to see, I looked around for a familiar face. Much to my surprise, I spotted Meg, Madame Giry, and Marguerite seated at a table in the corner. Scattered about them were bags. They looked as if they were ready to go. I approached them cautiously; Christine had told me to come prepared to fight. I reached their table, clearing my throat to call their attention to my presence. Meg glanced up first.

"Raoul," she greeted me with a smile, getting to her feet.

"Vicomte de Changy," Madame Giry said with far less warmth, "I was told that you were to come at four o'clock and it is now six."

"My deepest apologies," I offered, bowing my head slightly, "May I carry that for you?" She gave me a curt nod and rose to her feet. I grabbed two of the bags and offered to carry Meg's as well, but she shook her head.

"Your hands are full enough as is," she whispered. I smiled at her.

"Why three?" I asked, gesturing towards the luggage.

"Mother went back," she responded, there was no need to specify exactly to where Madame Giry returned, "One bag contains some of Christine's things." I nodded, allowing a tiny smile to creep onto my lips at the mention of Christine. I was anxious to return. While I had been conversing with Meg, Madame Giry was saying goodbye to Marguerite. Marguerite then rounded on Meg for a farewell. Meg seemed a little overwhelmed with the attention from the older woman as she was smothered in a great bear hug. Never-the-less she promised to write, then it was my turn.

"Vicomte, it is a pleasure."

"It is good to see you, madame," I replied. She seemed to greatly enjoy being addressed formally for a broad grin broke out on her face.

"Such a gentleman," she smiled, "that girl is lucky to have you. How is she?"

"Much better since you last saw her," I assured her, "but I do believe she will be anxious to see her friends." I wanted to be polite to this woman who had shown us such kindness, but I wanted to return home to my Christine even more.

"Of course, of course. Get you three!" She shooed us out the door. I didn't need to be told twice.

I pushed the horses faster and faster as the house came into view.

"Almost there," I called back to the two passengers, trying hard to make myself heard over the wind. It was so cold. I had lost feeling in my fingers and face some time ago. The snow was deep and the horses were straining hard to drag the carriage through. We would make it. I could see the lights of the house and the warmth that lay within; I could almost picture Christine waiting by a window, watching the road because she was worried about us. Yes, we would make.

"We were worried you wouldn't make it, master," said the stable manager as he took the horses.

"Nothing to worry about," I assured him. I hopped out and moved to help Meg and Madame Giry out, but before I got far I heard a call from behind.

"Raoul!" I smiled and turned to face the speaker.

"Christine," I breathed. "Uff." She had thrown herself into my arms, burying her head in my shoulder.

"I was worried," she whispered, "I was afraid you wouldn't make it, that you would be trapped out there." I hurt me to see her truly afraid. I held her close for a moment before pushing her away so I could look into her eyes.

"No need," I whispered, brushing a stray curl from her face, "I'm safe. We all are." I backed away slightly to allowing her to get a glimpse of her two friends. Meg and her mother both had remained in the carriage. They looked a little uncomfortable at having witnessed such a personal moment. Christine's face lit up at the sight of them, making me overjoyed. Forgetting her previous embarrassment, Meg leapt from the carriage to embrace her friend; Madame Giry followed, but with a little more dignity.

"Let's go inside," I suggested, I was sure Meg and Madame Giry were as cold as I was from the journey, and I could see Christine already trembling with cold, "I'm sure a lovely dinner has been prepared." I told the stable manager to have somebody bring the luggage up to the house before turning back towards the other three. Christine slipped her hand into mine, giving it a slight squeeze. I squeezed hers back and led the way through the snow up to the house.

Dinner had been pleasant. I knew Christine had enjoyed herself so I, in turn, had had a great time. After dinner was over, I had quickly excused myself from the table, giving the unconventional family a chance to talk. I had been sitting in my study for a couple of hours, carefully considering Andre and Firmin's request. What I really wanted was to be able to discuss it with Christine, but I would not interrupt her current happiness with mention of the Opera. Caught up in my thoughts, I did not notice anyone enter the room. In fact, not until I felt two very familiar hands rest on my shoulders did I realize I was no longer alone. I twisted around in my chair to face Christine.

"Hello," she whispered.

"Hello, love," I replied, covering one of her small hands with my large one. I suddenly had an idea. I looked at her mischievously, sizing her up.

"Raoul…" she started suspiciously, but before she could finish I had swept her off her feet. She let out a playful scream (much better then the screams of terror I had heard so often). I secured her in my lap and grinned triumphantly down at her. Once the shock had worn off, she smiled softly back up at me. She reached up to cup my face in her hand, slowly, agonizingly, traced every feature of it. I sighed contentedly, reaching up and pulling her hand to my lips and placing a loving kiss on the palm. She giggled and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Are you content, Little Lotte?" I questioned.

"Of course," she replied, "I have everyone I love under the same roof now. What more could I ask for?" I held her closer. She sat quietly, watching the snow fall, and I sat quietly watching her. The moonlight, being greatly amplified by all of the snow, reflected upon her skin, giving her an ethereal glow. The numerous stars were mirrored in her chocolate brown orbs. She looked as if she had just descended to me from heaven. She felt my eyes upon her and turned to face me. I received an inquisitive, half smile that clearly questioned what I was staring at. I just shook my slightly in response and leaned down to press my lips against hers. I felt her hand move to the base of my neck, pulling me closer. Our tongues moved gracefully together, twirling to a dance only the two of us knew the steps to. Finally the need for oxygen forced us apart, as it always seemed to do. Christine shifted slightly in my lap, moving, if at all possible, closer to me. I placed a small kiss on her forehead. We sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying one another's company.

"Christine?" I asked to get her attention. I figured I should tell her about my meeting with Andre and Firmin now rather then later.

"Yes?"

"Today, when I went to see Andre and Firmin," I carefully began, I would have to be very careful about how I worded this, "They had a question for me." She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at my inability to find the words.

"And?" she prompted.

"Well," I began again, "Their purpose for asking me there was to ask whether or not I would fund the rebuilding of the Opera." I tensed slightly. I really had no idea how this news would be received. Christine spun around like lightning in my lap, and, to my surprise, I found her eyes lit up with excitement.

"They'll rebuild it?" Her voice shared the excitement I saw in every other part of her body. I just nodded, still not completely sure what to say. "What did you tell them?"

"I said I would have to talk with you first," I responded, "Do you want this?"

"Yes!" she practically shouted. She looked like a little girl on Christmas Eve just then. I allowed myself a small chuckle at her excitement. Even in the dark, I could see a small blush creep onto her cheeks. She lowered her gaze slightly, embarrassed at her outburst. My laughter died out as I cupped her chin in my hand and made her meet my gaze.

"But what if he's still there?" I voiced my one fear. I was afraid he would try and take her away again.

"Even if he is," she replied, attempting to keep her voice level, but she could not hide the fear that shone in her eyes, "he will not take me. He won't. He promised." She seemed to be attempting to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

"You don't believe that," I said gently, cupping her cheek in my hand.

"He's just a man." A man? I remember the last time she said that. Just days before the premiere of Don Juan, she had told me, with confidence, that he was only a man, but he had taken her anyway. I could lose her to another man just as easily as I could lose her to an angel. I looked at her sadly. "The Opera was the only home I knew for so long. It gave me so much. Please, Raoul, will you do this one thing for me?" she begged. She was afraid, that was for sure, but I could tell how much she wanted this.

"This is what you want?" She nodded her head furiously. "Then you shall have it, my Little Lotte, and it shall be twice as grand and twice as beautiful and twice as splendid as it was before." She giggled and threw her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispered into the crook of my neck, "Thank you for doing this."

"I would do anything for you," I whispered back. After a moment, I heard her stifle a yawn in my shoulder. "Come, love, you've had a long day." She mumbled something incoherent. I wasn't sure if it was a protest or an agreement, but, regardless, I stood up with her still in my arms. I moved through the silent house towards her room. It was a little difficult to open the door with a sleepy Christine in my arms, but I managed. The fire in the room had been allowed to die down. The embers cast a soft glow around the room. I placed Christine in between the covers before moving towards the fire. I prodded at it until it sparked back to life. After making sure there was enough wood on it for it to burn for a few hours, I made to leave.

"No," whispered Christine from her bed, "Stay, please." I smiled and moved towards her bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

"I have to go and write that letter, so we can rebuild the Opera."

"Please," she sounded scared now, "Today has been so perfect. I don't want to have any nightmares tonight." I almost cried then. I could not stand to see her so afraid. I silently cursed that monster. He refused to let go of his hold on her.

"Of course, Little Lotte," I said, climbing in between the covers to lie next to her, "Tonight, I will scare them all away." I wrapped my arms around her tiny frame and pulled her flush against me. Tonight, at least, I would forget all sense of propriety, for her sake. She rested her head on my chest and gave a contented sigh.

"Good night, Raoul," she whispered, placing a small kiss on my chest.

"Good night, Little Lotte," I said back, kissing the top of her angelic head, "Sweet dreams."

A/N

Well, another chapter. Hope ya'll enjoyed it. Sorry about the wait. School is crazy. I really am updating as fast as I can. I'm trying desperately hard to give this more of a plot. I think I kinda have it figured out. Oh, and when I said that I was going to do a 180 with Christine's character I assure you I do NOT mean that I'm going to make her love the Phantom. EWWWWWWW! No, I'm just going to try and make her a little more innocent, that's all. Ummm, yeah. sighs I wish I had a man like Raoul. Don't we all. Thank you for all of you lovely reviews. I really, really love em. Please, continue to review! Until I get another chapter out! Ta!

Oh yeah, and please forgive my typos. I just turned in a big paper and have no desire to proofread. I hate proofreading. I'm really bad at it too. Oh well. What was I saying? Oh yeah, forgive the typos. I know they're there. I'm just being lazy and I don't want to find them. lol!