Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.

Author Note: Hi all, it's another chapter! (At last!) We're heading towards the end of this story, with about 4-ish chapters left. Today's update is a double update, because of my complete lack of writing recently. And because there is no way I could leave you all with this emotional wreckage of a chapter.

This chapter emotionally exhausted me. It's also been drafted and re-drafted so many times I think I'm now bordering on insanity. But I think what comes next will make it all worth it- I hope!

Massive thank you to the usual suspects, my lovely reviewers; phantomphan4evr, draegon-fire, MarilynKC, TMara and Erikroolsall!

Hope you enjoy the chapters!

Thirty Three- Fate

The rain was hammering down from the skies, merciless watery bullets, turning the road to a river and the fields to swamps. There weren't many foolish enough to be venturing out and about during such a downpour, but still two riders mounted on two drenched, exhausted horses could be seen picking their way along the track which now ran with raging floodwater. If the thieves and cut-throats, whose usual haunts lay alongside this very road hidden amongst the few trees and scrub, had stayed out through the rain their reward would have been great- the horses were of finest breeding and care, athletic and shining as they picked through the mud, and astride them rode the Vicomte de Chagny and a female companion. But this weather was too miserable even for criminals- a fact that would have worsened Raoul's bad mood had he thought of it.

For hours they had ridden out of Paris, astride his best horses, so making a fair distance in the short time. It had been easy to smile and laugh and glow with the optimism of Christine and all her romanticised ideas when the sun was shining and the air was warm- in fact, it had been effortless. But now it was dark, and wet, and the wind was too chilled to be pleasant, and Raoul was struggling to recall even one aspect of Christine's plan that seemed sensible. Equally, he struggled to think why he had ever agreed to accompany her. Even his boyish adoration for her seemed smothered out in this foul storm; he pulled irritably on the reigns, annoyed at the horse for skittering as cold water gushed past it's legs, and he turned his head to see that Christine was having the same problems.

"It's no use." He called out to her, his strong voice almost lost to the wind and rain. "We'll have to stop- it's not fair on the horses."

Christine looked up at him- her cloak and hood were saturated with rainwater, so clung plastered to her head, and her curls were dripping and sticking to her face. It only made her skin seem paler and her eyes seem larger, shining out from a body which resembled a drowned rat. Some paternal instinct in Raoul made him want to fret over her, worrying she might catch a chill at being so hopelessly drenched, but another rational part of his brain reminded him that Christine had survived over a year spent in a gypsy clan- it was unlikely that she would be fragile enough to succumb to illness from this.

"Can't we keep going a little while longer?" she pleaded- luckily the wind blew in her favour, carrying her gentle voice to Raoul, else he wouldn't have heard it. "It will be dark soon and we'd have to stop then anyway- oh Raoul, please, let's not waste any time. I don't mind the rain."

Raoul shook his head in exasperation, not knowing what was going through her head. Did she honestly think they would find Erik this way? Raoul had already come to the decision that he would humour her for a week perhaps before urging her to return home to Paris, to wait for Erik to come to them when he was good and ready- no doubt Nadir was spitting fire, furious for their sudden and unexplained departure. His horse skittered again and he cursed and yanked the reigns too hard- he immediately felt bad. Christine was watching him with pleading eyes, silent but so persuasive he knew he could not refuse her outright. But he wasn't going to give in, either- he knew that if he started down that slippery path, he would find himself still on this wild goose chase in three months, six months, a year-! No- far better for his and her sakes to be brutal.

"We'll have to keep riding to find an inn. We can keep going until then, but we must stop Christine. It's not safe to ride in weather as bad as this, nor is it pleasant."

Christine knew there was sense in the words, so she accepted it silently, but that didn't mean she had to like Raoul's decisions- she had already gotten it into her head that she would ride non-stop, sleeping when her eyes refused to stay open, eating when her stomach screamed in desperation, the rest of the time just riding, and searching, and hoping. If they could search enough places, surely they would find him; he couldn't have disappeared completely. Of course what Christine knew but refused to think about was the possibility of other countries, and worse still, other countries separated by sea. Raoul would help her, willingly, but Christine doubted that he would agree to sailing across the oceans. She knew, if she dared to admit it, that there would come a point and she would have to draw the line and admit defeat, but she didn't want to consider that now- at least she was trying, and trying in the name of her love for Erik.

They urged the horses on through the rain for another few miles and Raoul began to fear that there would be no inn and that Christine's foolhardy demands to keep riding forever and ever would begrudgingly come true, but just as the rain began to drop a little a small town became visible on the horizon and Raoul found the strength in himself to ignore Christine's unspoken plea that a drop in the rain meant they would be able to continue.

"Christine!" he had to call to her sharply as she continued to lead her horse along the track, rather than onto the cobbles of the town, and she looked startled and even hurt by the reproach in his voice, which Raoul regretted immediately.

She was so wet and so cold that climbing down from the saddle was almost impossible, and Raoul went to help her, but in a stubborn act he remembered so clearly from their childhood Christine ignored him and helped herself, managing it without too much discomfort. She then busied herself with cooing to the drenched horse rather than facing Raoul, who felt that this blatant snub was uncalled for.

"I'm sorry if you were offended Christine but I think you sometimes lose sight of what is realistic." He grumbled as Christine surrendered the horse to an ostler, pushing back her sodden cloak and tipping back the wet mass of curls so that the rain fell directly onto her face.

"If you disapprove so highly of my actions, Raoul, then perhaps you should go home- I needn't remind you that you chose to join me on this search and so there is no need to constantly speak to me as if I am a child in your care." She replied shortly. Raoul gaped at her.

"You asked me to come with you! And you are riding my horse!"

"Yes, for which I am most grateful. But you agreed." She said tartly, suddenly straightening her neck and marching straight into the inn without another word, leaving Raoul stood fuming in the rain, cursing his apparent ability to always be trampled upon, scorned and made a mockery of. He loved Christine with all his heart and more, but could not help but think that she sometimes directed her abuse and temper at no-one else save him. He wondered if she ever scorned Erik like that- to be fair to the girl, he wasn't here to receive that temper, and if he were here the moaning and complaining would probably not have come about.

Deciding that he was going to be the bigger person- and also knowing that if he didn't go in and find her, Christine was likely to be striking up conversation and taking drinks with total strangers, because in a twist of irony she seemed completely trusting of strangers- Raoul took a deep breath and followed her into the inn, immediately choking on the hot air and the stench that was inevitable with so many unwashed bodies crammed into one room. This inn was clearly the local tavern, too, for there were too many people to all be guests and most of them were already inebriated. Raoul fought his way through to the bar, trying not to knock or shove anyone so as to avoid earning a black eye from an unfriendly local, and eventually spotted Christine sat round a sticky table with a large group of men, who were cheering her to down her drink.

I swear that she is a greater magnet for trouble than Erik, Raoul thought with a roll of his eyes and a distant wistful thought to how much easier this would be if he had the sensible and firm Nadir here with him. He decided that intervention was necessary, so took a deep breath and made his way over to the table.

"Christine, I think perhaps we should make inquiries about rooms for the night." He said, sounding insipid to the point that the men sat around the table began to smirk and nudge each other, laughing. "Christine?"

"Oh, no need to worry about that, Francois here is the owner and he has given us rooms free of charge for this evening." She turned round and fixed Raoul with a cool eyed look, which made him grind his teeth- she was trying to prove herself, trying to act clever and self-sufficient to make him seem the fool for needless nagging and fretting, and Raoul did not appreciate it. He also knew, with just one look at the rowdy crowd she had chosen to immerse herself in, that nothing was ever free. And that point was starting to worry him a little.

"Christine, I really think-" he started to say, but was cut off by one of the men banging his flagon down with a cry of indignation.

"Not free of charge, Mademoiselle!" he crowed, and Christine turned and smiled at him. "You promised you would sing for us! That was the deal!"

"And sing I shall, my dear Francois. If you would be so kind to buy myself and my friend another drink, I will go to the piano now."

Raoul gaped at her as she leapt up and swept over to the battered old piano in the corner, sitting down at the keys and immediately filling the entire room with beautiful music, soon to be accompanied by the seraphic soprano tones that seemed to belong to the angels themselves- angels of music, Raoul thought darkly, accepting the free drink and knocking back the bitter liquid with a slight cough at the fiery taste, ignoring the snorts of laughter from the boisterous men.

"She's Christine Daae, you know." Francois slurred, and thumped Raoul on the arm. Where once his lily white skin would have bloomed purple upon impact and lead to a cry of pain, Raoul didn't bother to react to the clumsy injury. "The world famous soprano, adored by all, singing in MY inn!"

"Yes, what a mark of a fine establishment." Raoul muttered, and Francois was clearly touched- and missed the dark sarcasm, taken straight from Erik's usual repertoire- as Raoul found his hands full with yet another couple of drinks, completely free of charge. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I would like to get a little closer to the music."

He made his way slowly through the crowds towards the battered old piano which Christine mastered with ease and elegance. He took a seat at the table nearest to her, content just to watch and to listen and to drown out the other rowdy sights and disgusting smells just to focus on her- she was truly marvellous, perhaps not as skilled as Erik at the keys but just as passionate, and it was obvious as she bent over them, her curls falling forward and brushing her hands as they danced across the spread of black and white.

There was a fire dancing in her eyes that made Raoul think of the gypsies. For all their faults, those ragged wanderers lived with vivacity and fire and now looking at Christine singing and playing he could see their mark upon her- that meek and reserved look she had always held as the soprano on the opera house stage was obliterated, and every emotion was pouring from her eyes, her smile, her fingertips.

She looked so much like Erik in that moment. So open and honest and raw, the music leaving nothing to imagination. And though they weren't perfected arias or stunning solos, Raoul thought it might just be the finest he had ever seen her- it was breath taking.

And he wasn't the only one who thought so. Her wide, enchanting smile and heavenly voice was a magnet for everyone's attentions and there was not a single drinker who did not reduce their chatter to be able to hear her, and to enjoy her music. She was bathed in their attention and she was relishing in it, easy with the confidence of a born performer, laughing at her occasional stumbles, relaxing into the melody so that it became effortless just to let this music surround you and soothe you.

For some unexplainable reason, Raoul was suddenly remembering the torn and messy scraps of letters he had found in her room at Nadirs home in Paris, trying to reconnect those heart-breaking, crazed words with the shining girl he saw before him now-

'Erik, I do not know how to make this sound true and honest, but I have to tell you that I now know, I now realise that I was a fool, I was wrong, I have driven you away and if you would only let me show you-'

'Erik, do you remember that night in the gypsy caravan? I want to go back- I want to go back to when there was just you and I and nothing but one another, lost in one another, that would be enough-'

'Erik, I've gone mad. Help me. Please help me.'

Those tangled, tormented words in their tear stained scraps of paper- torn from score sheets, the ink of the notes running and bleeding black across the page- haunted Raoul and made him question just how real this shining Christine was before him now. When Erik had first left, that first night after Pali had died and the chandelier had crashed and Emilian had been slain and left in his own dirty blood, he had heard her screaming out Erik's name in her sleep- did she still cry out for him? If he lay in the dark tonight and listened through the thin walls, would he hear her tears?

The cheerful folk songs died away into a sweet, gently rolling melody that made Raoul think of childhood, spent in a nursey with the rosy-cheeked nursemaid singing to him as she stroked his soft hair, or of Gustave Daae and how his deep, soft, safe voice had lulled them to their dreams with stories of the north and of angels and lullabies weeping from the strings of the violin. He saw Brittany- the house, the waves, the red scarf flying, and before Raoul knew what he was doing he was standing and making his way to stand beside Christine and the piano. On an impulse, he sat beside her on the stool and watched her fingers brush and tease the melody from the discoloured keys, chipped and scratched from the years of use.

"I recognise parts of that music- it's the lullaby your father sang to us." Raoul said softly, and Christine smiled at him, their brief argument in the courtyard and at the table melting away in the warmth of the nostalgia. He watched her fingers again, soft against the keys, and thought back to the days when he had wished to use that feather light caress over her smooth skin, how he had thought that she might do the same. He felt as though that girl, his fiancée, and that façade she had created was gone and he barely knew her anymore- that burning beauty had burst into flame. But the lullaby reminded him that she was still Christine and that he was allowed to love her.

"It is his lullaby, mostly." She refocused on the keys as the tune shifted and became a slow lilting waltz, desperately sweet and loving but dark somehow too. "He always used to say that music is a story, and that his lullabies were his stories to me. He said I should add to them, and pass them on to my children, to tell them his and my stories. So that's the difference you hear- I've interwoven my story now, too. The music will be eternal even though we are not." She paused for a second, a smile breaking out on her face again. "I rather like that, don't you?"

"You've spoken a lot of music, recently." He replied, not knowing that her smile then came from remembering her epiphany sat at the keys to Erik's organ, feeling as though the whole mess had been cleared just from playing those notes. He was too busy comparing her apparently deep connection with music to that of Erik- which was strange, because she had always seemed the docile pupil, doing what she was told, rather than the living breathing composer.

Perhaps that had changed, too?

"I find that music makes sense where people don't." she sighed, shifting up an octave so that the melody became light and tinkling like bells. "It occurred to me when we set off today- I am searching for Erik to prove my love, but what if it is that he doesn't care? Perhaps he left because he doesn't want me and the associated drama and emotional chaos that always seems to follow?"

"I don't think that's the case, Christine." Raoul said softly and Christine shook her head, laughing quietly to herself.

"No, perhaps not. I just can't help but doubt." She shook her head again. "I'm sorry for being so rude to you. I appreciate everything you've done for me Raoul, from the gypsy clan to now, and I argue with you and blame you because you are always with me- you're the one who hasn't run away."

"I would never leave you, Christine, we've gone through far too much for that. And I want nothing more than for you to be happy, and if this is what makes you happy then that means I will help you." He stopped, uncomfortable, and she darted a glance at him, her attention on the keys as the tune picked up again and gained pace.

"What?"

"I just wonder sometimes if you have considered what Erik wants." Raoul knew he was immediately treading thin ice again and could easily reignite her temper, which would be quite a feat having only just won her forgiveness, but he also knew that he had to be honest and say it. "I don't think he has left because he doesn't want you- for Erik, it is leaving because he thinks you are better without him. And whilst that is yet another example of his making your decisions for you, which the fool should know better than to do by now, it would mean that…well, that you chasing him all round the country is going to do the opposite of winning him over." Raoul swallowed nervously, seeing that Christine's lips had pursed into a thin line. "In fact, it will probably make him very angry."

"This isn't about winning him over, Raoul, or whatever it is you said." She scowled. "This is about me standing on my own two feet and doing something, sacrificing something for the sake of our love- this is about proving my feelings for him. Demonstrating that I love him. Because I can't leave any doubt- I need to show him how I feel."

"If you really love him, and he really loves you, there shouldn't be a need to prove anything."

Raoul regretted it as soon as the words were out- Christine slammed the lid over the piano keys and stood up sharply, moving away from him across the crowded room, snatching up the gifted drinks from earlier and taking a mouthful just for something to do, something to distract her from Raoul's guilty expression as he trailed after her, a trodden on puppy.

"If you need the point reiterating, Raoul, I am happy to elaborate- I want to do this, for me." Christine fixed him with a stern look. "I have only recently found out who I am- I still don't know so many things, still there are so many memories that just haven't come back to me. I haven't done anything, save be rescued from gypsies and cry a lot." Her sharp tone had softened, the lecture melting into just a confession, an admission of the truth.

"I want to do this to show that Christine Daae now loves Erik and would do anything for him. I must be such a different person to who I was back then- you must remember, Raoul, that I am changed irreversibly! I could learn the events of my lifetime off by heart, be told them time and time again as stories, but it wouldn't make me who I was. I still wouldn't know what it felt like, to be engaged to you, to be terrified of Erik, to actually love him. So I need to do something to make sure he still wants me despite the changes! I need to make sure that he loves me, Raoul, as I am now, and not just the stupid little opera girl I was then."

Raoul groaned and rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding his now empty glass- just when had he managed to down the entire thing? His tolerance to alcohol was shockingly low and he knew he needed to stay on top of things, to be the responsible member, else it was risking a repeat of last time. Not an inviting prospect, to say the least.

"But he does love you." He groaned, and Christine folded her arms in defiance. "And you would do so much better- for you, and for him- if we just called this charade off now and went home. To Paris. And you needn't start to argue and tell me that you don't want to go to Paris and you never wanted to go to Paris, because now I'm going to be selfish- I'm tired and the mere thought of trying to manage you, keep you safe and argue constantly about this for the next goodness knows how long is a horrifying prospect. I made a mistake in agreeing to this childish idea, Christine, and in the morning I am taking you home. Erik will eventually come back- you just have to let him calm down and realise the stupidity of his actions."

"He doubts my affections, that is why he has left, or so you suggest- then why am I not allowed to doubt his?" Christine flared up. "I refuse to be babied by you! If you try and take me back I won't go- I'll leave on my own and go alone if I have to. You truly are being selfish!"

"Oh, I am, am I?" he rounded on her, now shouting, though no one seemed to notice- it was noisy anyway and the drunken stupor had truly taken hold of the inn. "Because I am rather of the impression that is invariably the other way round! Stop being such a child!"

"I don't understand Raoul- why are you so against me?"

"No. No, of course, of bloody course you don't understand!" he exploded, and she looked a little taken aback. "This game you're playing- it's infantile! The issue at hand is not one of Erik becoming bored of you and running off, meaning you need to prove your love, it's a damaged man becoming overwhelmed by yet another bad mistake in his life involving you! If you had any decency you would leave him alone and let him recover- you would stop believing that Erik's entire existence revolves around you and you would know that wandering around France, putting yourself in danger, is the opposite of what he would want!"

Christine looked livid and was about to speak, but Raoul wasn't quite done with airing his many opinions on the matter, so he slammed his hand over her mouth.

"You say you want to be strong and independent and whatever else it was- well I think we all know, Christine, that pining after a man who by conventional standards has badly wronged you is the opposite. Going on a mad dash around the country trying to find him, well, that is sheer lunacy." He had calmed down and his voice had faded into a dull murmur, the energy all gone, used in the explosion of anger. "You worry that you're not Christine Daae anymore. Well let me tell you this, Christine- Paris and the opera and even me all swamped you and hid you and made you into something you are not. But when you were with Erik- whenever he called you to his underground home, or whenever you sang, whenever you were with him, then you were the real you. The real Christine Daae. And that is still the way it stands- Erik has always seen through the echoes and distortions to the real you, and you have always done the same for him. You've not changed, not really- you're still Christine.

Let me tell you this- I was insanely jealous of the opera ghost, when he haunted and terrified us and yet you still willingly went to him. But it was the way you reacted to him- he let you be yourself, he… he awoke you. And the more and more I realised it, the more and more I realised that I could give you nothing compared to him- he let you be yourself, let you explore and challenge and grow, whereas I only seemed to reinforce that façade that wasn't you. It was- it was as if you were made for Erik, and he for you, and I could not stand it! So what I mean to say, Christine, is you feel so hurt, you feel so lost and scared now, because you have only ever really known who you are if you are at Erik's side, because he seems to know the real Christine Daae."

Christine had tears in her eyes and did not make an effort to speak. Raoul gently put her fingers up her chin, used his thumb to wipe away the stray tear that managed to break free.

"You love him and you miss him and you want to find him and be with him again, as soon as possible. I know that." He said gently, kindly. "But this mad search, this dangerous and argumentative set up, isn't going to find him, Christine. The chances are, he is torturing himself just as you are torturing yourself, and before long he will be back in Paris, pounding at the door, begging at your feet for forgiveness. He only left because he wants you to be happy and thinks you would be better without him- he cannot seem to let go of that horrific concept that true love constitutes letting go."

"Oh, Raoul, I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice hoarse with the supressed tears. "I've made such a mess of things. I've been a fool."

"No you haven't. Not properly." He countered softly but firmly. "But if you understand me, and you think that what I've said may be right, then we need to go back to Paris. There's no point in this anymore. We're just inflicting unnecessary anguish."

"You're right." She nodded. "Thank you."

She kissed his cheek and he ruffled her hair, fondly.

"The things I do for you, Christine Daae." He smiled and she managed a smile back.

"Subservient right from the moment you soaked yourself to rescue my scarf." She said gently in reply. "What would I do without you, Raoul?"

"You don't need to think about that, because you won't be without me." He smiled and she suddenly hugged him. "I'm starting to think that it's you, not Erik, who's responsible for Nadir's wrinkles, though."

She laughed and shoved him a little, and he shoved her back. Unfortunately for Christine, who was feeling a little unsteady from the heavy conversation and all the words Raoul had fired at her in that brief moment, the shove made her stumble and crash straight into a large man carrying flagons of ale, which promptly went everywhere. He span round, face livid and clearly intending to beat senseless whoever had knocked him, but all he found was a sheepish looking Christine blinking up at him. Raoul saw the man's expression change from one of anger to dark glee- taking in Christine's hair and eyes and figure, he clearly liked what he saw. Feeling his stomach swing with dread, Raoul yanked Christine backwards and stepped between her and the brute of a man, who sneered down at Raoul with such menace it took all of Raoul's courage not to turn and flee.

From behind him, he felt Christine's hand on his arm, trying to tug him back out of the way, but Raoul had lost her once before to drunken brutes and he would never let that happen again.

"Good evening, Sir." He offered in an overly cheerful voice. The man's scowl darkened. "I'm terribly sorry for the discomfort my companion has caused you, she meant no harm. Please, allow me to buy you a-"

"Companion?" the man burst out into raucous laughter, leering down at Christine. Rather than shrinking in terror at this blatant threat, the look in the man's eyes only seemed to stoke the fire of her temper- that, and the fact that Raoul was refusing to let her through, standing in front of her as if she were a child. "I'd rather like a…companion myself. How about it, Sir? To make up for that clumsy accident? I'm sure he'll share her with us, won't he boys?!"

The man called to his intoxicated friends, who all cheered and laughed and called obscenities that made Raoul blush with disgust. He had no idea how he was supposed to reason with this brute, being so completely inebriated that he would probably punch him straight on the nose for even daring to object. It rather made Raoul wish that Erik had taught him a little more about self-defence, rather than just how to cut a chandelier free, which was useless to him now.

Only, so it happened, it wasn't the man's behaviour that Raoul needed to worry about, but rather Christine's. Bristling with indignation, she suddenly shoved Raoul out of the way and stormed up to the drunkard, chin stuck in the air and arms crossed. Raoul grabbed onto her arm but she turned and slapped his hand away, causing yet more laughter from the men.

"Please do not make such disgusting remarks. You have rather offended myself and my friend." She said firmly. "Unless you wish to accept our offer of a drink to replace what you have lost, leave us alone."

The man laughed again, holding both hands up in mock surrender. He could see that there were nerves and fear lingering still beneath the brave façade, and he stepped closer to Christine, daring her to shrink backwards. When she stood her ground, Raoul decided that this was far too close for comfort and went to drag her away but the man spoke again and took his chance.

"Ah, now, no need to be so cold. Let's warm you up, shall we?"

He promptly stuck his grubby hand straight down the front of her dress, making her shriek in surprise and jump backwards, the onlookers roaring with laughter and yelling more crude instruction. Raoul saw red, lunged at the man-

But Christine, tiny and white with shock, got to him first- her fist went flying straight into the centre of his face and punched him straight on the nose, instantly making it bleed. Raoul watched as the drunkard staggered back, his face blank with astonishment, before anger replaced the humour and he reached out and gripped a fistful of Christine's curls, yanking her face up towards his own, his other hand firmly gripping her in that obscene place at her chest-

Raoul was never given the chance to fight the brute for manhandling Christine. For suddenly, she was thrown to the floor and someone else was dragging the monster backwards, gripping onto his neck and making him shout, and then gurgle, steadily turning blue as he thrashed and kicked and his friends all leapt backwards in fright as he was dragged out of the door, leaving the rest of the inn staring in silence. Christine scrambled up, her cheeks dusted red and her eyes shining with something almost maniacal, gripping onto Raoul's hand and making him realise that she was trembling- dragging him with her, running out of the door, following whoever had dragged the monster away from her-

Raoul should have realised then. Because who else would react so badly to seeing Christine Daae manhandled by a drunkard? But the thought did not even cross his mind, being hurried across the sticky wooden floor and out into the night, into the courtyard, where through the rain he saw someone tall and thin and murderous unleashing hell upon the drunk, laying on the floor and screaming for someone to help him- it did not occur that Erik would be here. But by some awful twist of fate, that Raoul knew should be good and yet felt terribly bad, he was here. But he was not at all the Erik Raoul had come to know- he looked possessed, frenzied and rabid and uncontrollable, unleashing sheer hell upon the man who had dared to touch Christine Daae. The blows were mindless, fast and angry and Raoul realised with a shudder of revulsion that Erik's hands were stained with blood, his blows so forceful they broke the skin-

Christine stood frozen by Raoul's side, staring out at Erik, her Erik, beating a man as if he were a frenzied animal. Her heart- fluttering inside her chest, awoken from dormancy when she saw the golden eyes that identified her unknown rescuer, making her run and stumble and chase after him mad with love and joy- was suddenly cold and still again. She could not bear to look at him, not like this, not ferocious and mad, when he was supposed to be happy and glad to see her- he was supposed to be as overcome as she was. And yet no matter how she tried, she could not look away from that awful scene.

In that moment, she did not know him. In that moment, he became the monster of her nightmares. In that moment, she was scared to go to him. Her feet refused to move. All she could do was stare at him, in horror, waiting, hoping, begging through silent plea that he would stop and suddenly melt back into that person she knew and loved and had wanted to find.

Nadir suddenly appeared, returning from putting the horses in the stables, and he ran at Erik and dragged him back, having to fight him and pin his arms to his sides to stop him from lunging back towards the now unconscious man.

"Gods' teeth, Erik, are you insane? WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU DOING?! YOU MIGHT HAVE KILLED HIM!"

When Nadir turned to check the victim, to see if Erik truly had beaten him to death, he saw Raoul and Christine stood there across the courtyard. His face hardened when he saw them, clearly still furious with them for what they had done, but then he seemed to realise that Christine was staring in silent horror at the scene she had just witnessed. Then, he threw his hands up and let out a shout of utter frustration.

"You see what you have done?!" he ranted, and Raoul could not be sure if the anger was directed at him, at Erik, at Christine or indeed all of them. "This- this MESS is no longer my concern! I give up on both of you! You are DESTRUCTIVE!"

Raoul ignored the Persian's anger, and turned urgently to Christine, who was still frozen and staring at Erik, who's shoulders were heaving with ragged breaths and who's hands were stained with the blood of a man he didn't know, didn't care to know, and would have killed.

"I thought…" she began, the words trailing off into silence. She did not know how to finish that sentence, the words all dried up and lost to her, her and the pouring rain and the burning of Erik's yellow eyes that had, for one moment, made him a stranger to her.

She was scared of him. And it came back- memories of running through dark corridors, glancing behind her shoulder, wary of every shadow, every breath, every faintest sound or whisper.

Erik lifted his eyes from the cobbles, yellow and burning and filled with anger and hurt and crazed insanity. They held the sadness of the world and yet, in that moment, they did not inspire love in Christine's heart. Only hate. Only hate.