Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul slash.

Warning(s): homosexuality (that's what slash is people)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: hmm… I guess I should say that you should check out my blog like usual. You should also check out my website and maybe the notepad – under works in progress (I'd like feedback).

Work isn't better, but I'm sleeping less, which technically isn't a long-term solution, but I do have more time now to write (and apparently work on my website). We'll see how much my writing suffers (or excels) with two hours less sleep a night (five hours isn't too bad, right? I know people who sleep less, but they also take naps. That would simply be counterproductive in my case. I like sleep though. I miss it already).

Oh, and I just reread chapter 15 and I didn't so much like it. It seemed rather pithy. Odd.

Story Note: Well, things don't always go as planned, but we hope whatever happens happens for a good reason... maybe like Erik and Raoul finally getting together. Shorter chapter, but less of a cliffhanger. It's because the next chapter is great! Well, I don't know if it's great-great, but it has a worse cliffhanger than this chapter. So, that says something.

o.o.o.o

Imaginary Friends

Chapter 16 – Caught

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Last time: Erik's a stalker, and he wants to kidnap Raoul. The Comte de Montmartre is planning something evil that involves Raoul as well. Raoul's received a note saying he's going to meet with the Comte when we all know it's a setup. (Don't go Raoul!) And Erik's finally going to make his move to kidnap Raoul.

o.o.o

As Raoul exited his home, he paused at the door to think about what he was going to do. He watched as the snow fell harder. It would be a very cold night. Raoul could simply decline and stay inside his warm house.

That sounds like a good idea. Erik said.

Raoul could not help but feel obligated to go. He had easily learned from his peers that the Comte de Montmartre would be the new patron. The managers had not tried to keep it a secret and neither had the Comte. It would have been easier to deal with the managers and their duplicity had they not told anyone, but this way, Raoul could do nothing else but leave.

Everyone was a gossip, but Raoul usually managed to keep a rather low profile. If he decided to have a dispute with the managers about his position as the main patron of the Opera Populaire, then they could easily spread more rumours that could harm the Chagny name. No, Raoul could not do that. Raoul would not struggle, but he was still interested in the man who would take his place as patron.

Now that the Comte invited him out, he could not help but wonder what he was like and if he had anything to do with his premature dismissal. Raoul did not quite understand the Comte's reasoning for having this meeting, but his curiosity had been piqued. Maybe the Comte was going to explain what the managers were planning. Alternatively, maybe he simply wanted to know tips about how to deal with the opera ghost.

I don't like the idea of you going out with him. Erik spoke up again.

What do I have to lose by going? Raoul reasoned.

Erik quickly interjected, Warmth, heat.

Raoul ignored his statements. He's a gentleman. He probably wants to talk things over with me.

Gentleman? Erik was obviously incredulous.

Yes.

Not every man with money and a title is a gentleman. Erik argued.

Raoul replied. He had the decorum to send us an invitation.

The rumours though. Erik persisted.

About him? There are now rumours about me as well. Raoul retorted. Here he was standing outside his house in front of a carriage… That the Comte so kindly sent, by the way... arguing with Erik. We will probably meet in a public place and talk it over like civilized men.

Shouldn't he be watching the opera if he truly is becoming the patron?

Maybe he's waiting until he is properly introduced to them.

But... Erik tried to argue.

No more excuses. I'm going. Raoul resolutely stepped into the carriage. It's cold and I want to meet this man in person. Maybe he's just as much of a pawn in this as I am.

Knowing that the battle was already lost, Erik remained quietly skeptical.

o.o.o

Erik thought he had seen his chance. He slowly slid out of the bushes towards the inert Raoul when Raoul suddenly entered the carriage. Erik cursed. He had been too slow, but he had not expected Raoul to move so quickly after standing in front of the entrance for such a long time. He thought Raoul had been waiting for something. Erik was about to lunge out to catch up to the carriage. He knew that not all was lost. If he could reach the carriage, he could still knock Raoul out when he was already inside it. That would be better plan actually.

Erik however, did not make it very far since a hand reached out from behind him, grabbed his shoulder almost painfully, and jerked him backwards. His feet slid out from under him and he hit the cold, icy floor painfully.

Quickly standing up, he was just as quickly tackled back onto the floor. The wind was knocked from his lungs, but he managed to strike out blindly at his assailant. He wrestled with the man who tried to subdue him. With each movement, Erik felt his joints protesting. He had been standing still too long in the cold. His joints and limbs felt awkward, but he still managed to push the body off him.

He turned to look at the man and saw the gardener lying on the floor holding his face. There was blood staining the once clean snow. Erik scrambled to his feet keeping an eye on the gardener when he was once again tackled to the floor.

He lashed out once more but the man on him, who Erik realized was the butler he had seen inside the house, had a firm hold of his arms. He knew he could throw him off if he could get the proper leverage, but try as he might, he could not get his feet beneath him. The snow made his feet slip and the stiffness from waiting outside was making it most difficult to find the flexibility to free himself.

He almost succeeded in throwing off the butler when the gardener joined in restraining him. The gardener was then followed by someone else. Soon by sheer manpower, Erik was subdued. He tried to lash out to get any limb free but he simply could not. His arms and legs were pinned beneath the pile of bodies. He could barely breathe with the amount of weight on him. The floor was almost unbearably cold. It burned, but Erik wondered if it was simply his anger at being caught.

Before he could do anything else, he was tied and dragged into the house.

o.o.o

"You sent a note?" Firmin asked.

Andre shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was not sure he would like what the Comte had planned, but he wanted to know nonetheless. It was better than being left in the dark about their actions.

The managers and the Comte de Montmartre were seated in Box 3 waiting for the opera to begin. Andre looked at the crowd in the theatre. It was another sold out performance. Christine was bringing in much money, money that the Vicomte wanted a portion of.

"Yes," the Comte replied, "Did I not say that I would handle this situation?"

"What did it say?" Andre asked with no small amount of trepidation though he tried to hide it.

"It asked the Vicomte to meet me so that we could discuss matters," the Comte checked his pocket watch, "in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Andre repeated.

"Yes."

Andre was silent, but he wanted to ask what the Comte was planning. He did not want to seem slow to catch onto what the Comte was saying though. Luckily, Firmin had not been privy to the plan either.

"What will happen at this 'meeting'?"

"The Vicomte will be kidnapped, and I'm certain the famed ghost will follow. I'll hold him until he comes to his senses of course." The Comte stated calmly.

"But, if the Vicomte tells the police..." Firmin said alarmed.

"The Vicomte can claim all he wants, but those people have no association to us at all. The note was not even signed, and I'm here to watch the opera. How could I possibly be involved?" The Comte stated confidently.

The managers visibly relaxed.

The Comte concluded, "I'm certain the Vicomte will forget all about the twenty five percent and the opera house."

o.o.o

Nothing with Raoul had ever gone as he had planned. Erik realized. Nothing with Raoul was ever expected.

Especially considering his current predicament, Erik vehemently believed the sentiment. He certainly had not planned nor expected to be tied to a chair in the sitting room of the Vicomte's house surrounded by several of said Vicomte's servants.

They were whispering amongst themselves – whispering and staring at him. Erik could look on the bright side and say that he was at least warming up now, but instead Erik decided to look at the situation objectively.

He was tied, surrounded, and in hostile territory. Erik did the only thing he could at the moment. He glared at them. He would not give them the satisfaction of begging to be released.

It was an eclectic mix of servants to say the least. The gardener and the butler were directly in front of him. He was pleased to see them both disheveled and sporting new bruises on their faces. To his left near the entrance of the room stood a young maid beside a person who looked to be the cook if the ladle in her hand were any indication. Sitting near the fireplace was an old maid who looked older than Erik himself. He wondered where the third person who had subdued him had gone. He had not tarried long with the others.

The butler who had tackled him seemed much older than the gardener. Yet, it had been he who had managed to subdue Erik in the end, and Erik's pride could not believe it. Erik knew he should have been able to break free. He should have been able to get away. Yet, he had not. He swallowed the scream that was building within him.

The butler appeared to be in charge of the others so Erik tried his hardest to fix his glare on him the most.

The scenario reminded him too much of the carnival. It reminded him of the unforgiving, scrutinizing gazes. It reminded him of the unkindness he had known for all of his life. Unfortunately, it also distinctly reminded him of Raoul.

Erik was not sure if it was easier or harder to be angry when thinking about Raoul. In his mind, Raoul embodied everything good that Erik had ever experienced. Yet, it was with utter frustration that he thought of him. It was always close but never what he wanted with Raoul. Years ago, he almost had the companionship he had never known, never thought he could have. He did have it for a little while, but then he had to sacrifice it. After that, he was finally able to be close to Raoul and to speak with him in the opera house, but the brat had the gall to not remember him. Now, he had been close to finally kidnapping Raoul and taking what was rightly his when this happened.

Of all the years he had been invisible to everyone, he could not have remained hidden for just a little longer. He had not even heard the gardener sneak up on him. The snow had been falling so he had not bothered to cover his footsteps. The last time he had checked for the gardener he had been across the estate. How the man had been able to get across the yard without his noticing was a mystery to him. Erik thought for certain he would have been able to hear footsteps approaching him.

Had he been so focused on Raoul that he blocked everything else out?

That had never happened even with Christine. It was his survival that mattered above anything else. His life mattered above hers. Could he say that it mattered more than his?

Erik could not say. Sacrifice and Raoul seemed to go hand in hand. There were a large number of actions that only occurred with Raoul. Erik was starting to get annoyed by his atypical behaviour: leaving the safety of his opera house, ignoring Christine, and chasing Raoul not to mention the thoughts he had been having lately regarding him.

He decided the best way to return to himself would be to return to normal behaviour. He decided hurting someone would be a good start, but he could move neither his legs nor arms. He would have to be creative in order to find a means to kill these people who had gotten in his way. All that mattered was getting to Raoul. He still could catch up.

With a burst of energy, Erik struggled violently with his binds, but nothing happened besides the chair he was tied upon tilting precariously to one side. Their whispers paused and they all stared at him. It was disconcerting at best, but he could ignore his discomfiture. Raoul was the only thing that mattered. Erik struggled again. He just could not seem to break himself free.

In the end, Erik knew Raoul had gotten too far ahead of him. There would be no way to catch up now. Raoul had escaped. He had slipped through his grasp. Now, Erik would face this makeshift tribunal. He knew he would be sent to prison and that would be the end of his life, the end of his dream while Raoul was still completely oblivious to his very existence.

o.o.o

Raoul sat in the carriage not quite paying attention to where it was going.

So, you're going to play nicely with the man who wants to throw you out of a theatre you helped improve? Erik stated pointedly.

I was only the patron. I did not do very much. Raoul argued. There were many other people who supported the opera house.

Hmph. You were the main contributor. Erik replied. Most patrons do not do much for their theatres. Those managers would have kept Carlotta as the lead. Who knows what the ghost would have done then? You did quite a lot for the Opera Populaire. You tamed the ghost.

I didn't tame the ghost. Raoul protested.

He was on his best behaviour. Nothing had been terribly damaged, and he even helped you.

That means... Raoul thought about it. He wanted to say that it meant nothing, but he knew that it meant something so he left the sentence hanging.

The carriage pulled into a cemetery and Raoul finally looked out the window. Through the flurries of snow falling, he saw the various tombstones and statues.

The Comte didn't mention he wanted to meet in a cemetery. Erik deadpanned. It's quite the public place to meet.

Raoul knocked on the window to the driver. He received no response.

This is bad. Erik said.

I don't think you need to tell me that. Raoul replied. He knocked harder on the window but still received no response.

"Driver! Driver!" Raoul yelled, but he was ignored.

This is very bad.

Stop saying that and help me think of a way to escape. Raoul tried not to feel so panicked, but he did have to admit this was making him very nervous.

Erik suggested, Just jump out. We're not going very quickly. The snow will break your fall.

Raoul was going to protest, but he looked out of the window again. Seeing the tombstones passing, he decided jumping out of the carriage did not seem like such a bad idea. He tried the door, but it was locked.

It's locked! Raoul said panicking.

Just... Erik tried to say calmly, but failed. Just wait.

There's not much else I can do! Raoul banged on the carriage door while yelling for help, even though he knew it would do him no good. Who would be at the cemetery at this time of night and in this weather?

He stared out of the window. What were they doing in a cemetery? It seemed to take forever before the carriage finally stopped.

When they open the door jump out and run. Erik suggested.

Raoul nodded. It sounded like a good plan. He crouched by the door ready to burst out the second he saw the door open. What he was not expecting was a fist to come at him the moment it opened. Raoul's head snapped back as the fist connected with his face. He stumbled out of the carriage and was promptly grabbed by two men who were larger, and as Raoul struggled in vain, apparently stronger than he was.

He was dragged kicking and screaming, not to mention bleeding, towards an open mausoleum. He frantically looked around and screamed for help, but there was no one around. He did not recognize this place; he could not even see the city. He tried to dig his heels into the ground but they lifted him up easily. He managed to kick one of his captors, but he received a vicious punch to his back in response. His legs gave way as the pain seemed snake its way through his back and legs.

They threw him into the mausoleum and before Raoul could scramble to his feet, they had closed the doors. There was no light inside and try as he might, Raoul could not get the doors to move a centimeter.

"Help! Help me! I'm trapped inside the mausoleum!" Raoul yelled as he rammed his shoulder into the doorway repeatedly. "Somebody! Help!"

Raoul grew tired quickly. His shoulder was hurting and he had gotten nowhere for his efforts. The room was dark and cold. There was only a small grated window high above Raoul's head. It was nighttime however and the moonlight barely made it through the dense grate.

Do you think the Comte's the reason we're trapped? Raoul asked Erik as he leaned against the entranceway while holding his shoulder. He wanted to sit down, but he knew the marble floor would steal his body heat and it was getting colder. At least all the energy he had used trying to escape had raised his body temperature. He gingerly touched his cheek. There would be another bruise tomorrow. He checked his teeth. They were all still there, but he had bitten his cheek when he had been hit. Raoul spit out some blood before continuing his examination of his face.

Who else? Erik replied.

It could very well be kidnappers. They didn't tell us anything. Why should we think it's the Comte? Raoul tried to defend the Comte.

Why do you do that? Erik asked exasperatedly.

Do what?

Try to think the best of people who don't deserve your trust and think the worst of people who do. Erik explained.

Raoul frowned. Since when do I do that?

This Comte. Erik barely let Raoul finish his question. He's the man who's been dealing with the managers, so he must know how they've been treating you and still not care about it. Yet, you're trying to think the best of him.

We don't have any reason to think it's him.

Besides the fact that he sent the note and the carriage. Erik replied angrily.

He didn't sign it. Raoul said defensively. It could have been forged. He did not know why he was defending the Comte, but he could hope that he had not been naïve enough to step into another trap. He had not been making any good decisions lately. He could not just admit that even to Erik.

He didn't have to sign it. Erik yelled. That was the point. Can't you see that we've been tricked?

Raoul could not respond. He knew Erik was right.

Erik pressed forward. Then there's the ghost. He's treated you well since the very first moment you trespassed.

Don't say trespassed. It was my opera house then too.

That's beside the point. Erik began to enumerate. He treated you well. He made sure the managers and Carlotta stopped bothering you. He saved your life.

After trying to kill me. Raoul replied feebly.

So you fought. So what? You fight with Philippe all the time. Does that mean he's your enemy?

Raoul did not reply. He pushed away from the door and began to pace. The answer to that question was 'no', a resounding no.

He told himself that he was pacing to stay warm. He could hope that someone would come to his rescue, but it would be a while before anyone suspected that he was absent for any other reason than what had been in that letter. He had to preserve what heat he had left. Looking out of the window, he could see the snow falling more densely. He needed to keep moving, but what he needed more was to not think about what Erik was saying because if the Comte actually was behind this, then he was in a lot of trouble. If the Comte would stoop to this level, then the rumours about his ruthlessness were probably true. Who knew what the Comte had in store for him.

The man was dangerous.

o.o.o

Erik had been watching them arguing for the past few minutes. He sat quietly though. He doubted they wanted his input on the matter.

"What should we do with him?" The gardener asked.

"Call the police," the young maid answered immediately.

The cook nodded her head in agreement. "He's probably a thief."

Erik almost snorted at that. He was no thief, a kidnapper maybe, but not a thief.

"He should be sent to prison," the young maid reiterated. "Look at him. He should probably be sent to the asylum."

"He's wearing a mask," the gardener stated.

"I'm not deaf," Erik finally said irately. "And, I'm sitting right here!"

He did not know how much longer he could listen to them arguing about him. He was already annoyed. The constant reminder that he was a prisoner was not helping either.

"Who are you?" The butler finally asked.

Erik considered various responses but finally settled on, "An acquaintance of Raoul."

He could tell from the butler's look that he did not believe him. Glancing at his audience, he realized that none of them believed him. His gaze fell on the eldest servant by the fireplace. She had yet to say anything, but she looked at him intently.

"Then why," the gardener asked, "are you sneaking around the estate?"

Erik focused on the man. With an air of disdain, Erik replied, "Just look at me."

"Escaped from an asylum," the cook added.

Erik decided that it did not matter if these people were Raoul's servants. He did not care if it took a little extra time. They would die the moment he was set free; then he would search for Raoul. "Are you people daft? I'm the opera ghost."

The gardener replied, "This is your argument to convince us you aren't insane?"

The butler ignored their comments. "What are you doing here?"

"I-" Erik tried to think of any reason that was not to kidnap Raoul, "came here to retrieve something Raoul took from me."

Erik quickly remembered that Raoul had taken his mask. Hopefully, the Vicomte had not thrown it away yet.

"We are to believe that?" The young maid countered.

"Check his room." Erik said confidently, "I'm looking for a mask similar to the one I'm wearing."

He stared down the butler. He knew if he could convince this man, then they would at least spare him a little longer while they searched for the mask. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Check and find it," the butler ordered without looking away. When no one moved, he glanced at the young maid.

She nodded but before she left she defiantly declared, "Raoul doesn't steal, so your story is doubtful to be true."

"Call the police." The cook said again.

The gardener asked the question that was on all their minds, "What do you hide behind your mask?"

Everyone was silent. Erik looked at them with disdain. That was hardly pertinent to why he was present. Everyone always wanted to see what he hid beneath the mask and the moment they saw they would scream in horror. He suppressed his instinctual response to shout profanities at them. They had no right to ask such a thing.

"Haven't you heard the rumours?" He said angrily.

"I've heard that the police would be very happy to have you in their custody." The butler replied pointedly. "Now, I have two questions I want answered. What are you really doing here? And what is behind your mask?"

Erik had been trying to wriggle his wrists free again but to no avail. He had this inquisition, but he had to admit it was better than being directly sent to the police. He could not allow himself to be imprisoned. He had narrowly escaped that fate once, but being currently immobile, there seemed to be no hope that he could escape this time. He stopped struggling. He was frustrated, angry, and he still could not quash the desire to physically hurt every individual in the room currently. He was tired though. The fatigue of following Raoul was catching up to him. What feeling he had gotten in his hands by the warmth of this room was slowly leaving as he struggled with the binds.

He was tired. He was tired of failing so often. He was tired of chasing after his desires only to have them rebutted. He decided to answer at least one question as honestly as he could, "I was here to convince Raoul to not leave."

"Leave?" The gardener asked.

"To stop being patron." Erik explained. Surely, they had heard the rumours. Not only the rumours, they must know the truth about the Vicomte's actions.

"I assure you, Monsieur," the butler stated, "it's not by choice."

"What?" Erik searched the butler's expression for any indication that he was lying. He could see nothing but the truth.

"The managers are forcing him out," he explained what he had heard just that morning.

Erik yelled. "You lie!"

The cook and gardener flinched at his outburst. No one responded to him. The butler held his gaze evenly.

Erik stared at the ground in front of him. The managers could not be forcing him out. That would be absurd. The Opera Populaire was making more money now than they ever had before and that was because they were finally listening to his suggestions. The only reason they were listening and the only reason Erik had not killed them for their insolence yet was because of Raoul.

Erik scanned his memories of any indication that Raoul was being forced out of the theatre.

The managers had been acting oddly, Carlotta, too. 'I'm sure you'd have liked a quicker means to be rid of me.' Raoul had yelled that at him when they had been fighting. Then there was what he had told Christine when she asked him earlier today.

Erik shook his head. He could not be wrong about Raoul. The managers could not have orchestrated this without him noticing. There was no way he could have misunderstood the situation, but why was everything starting to make more sense now?

"We probably heard the same rumours that you had about him leaving because of the ghost," the butler continued. "Raoul just told me this morning what had actually happened. He is not leaving because he wanted to. He's leaving because he has no other choice."

Erik wanted to yell at the man to be silent. He had to think for a moment.

He could not have misunderstood. He could not have ruined everything by believing Carlotta's lies. That meant she was definitely a part of the plot to remove Raoul from being the patron. She would regret her betrayal. They all would.

But Erik came back to the fact that he had been wrong. When he had heard the news, he should have thought about it more. He could have even asked Raoul on the balcony. Erik felt like hitting something, and he yanked at the ropes harder. He had taken out his frustration on Raoul. The reason they fought was all his fault. This whole fiasco was his fault. If he had been paying attention… if he had remained focus, none of this would have happened.

The self-recrimination was short-lived however. It was not his fault in the end. It was the managers' fault. It was Carlotta's fault. It was the new Comte's fault. It was their fault and they would pay for what they had done.

"The other question," the butler prompted.

Erik's head snapped up. He had forgotten that he had an audience. He glared at them for a moment before relaxing. He could spare their lives for telling him the truth. He could spare their lives for allowing Erik to know who his real enemies were.

He replied absentmindedly, "I'm deformed."

He was still thinking about this new information about Raoul leaving. He wondered what the proper way to exact revenge would be. It had to be something large. It had to be destructive and preferably, it would take lives. He would destroy all the lies the managers had been building.

"Wait," Erik suddenly thought, "What of his fiancé?"

"Fiancé?" The gardener repeated.

"I'm certain that any of us would have realized if the Vicomte had a fiancé," the cook responded.

Erik dropped his head again. He wished he had a free hand because he was starting to get a headache. He was alternating between murderous rage and disbelief. Raoul had been telling the truth. He had been telling the truth the whole time.

The sound of hurried steps broke the silence. The young maid entered the room and held up the mask. The butler nodded his head and Erik watched as she placed the mask down on the table. He internally sighed with relief. At least now, they would have to believe that he was here to retrieve the mask. Maybe they would reconsider calling the authorities. He doubted they would set him free though. If they kept him…

"Erik." The oldest maid said quietly and Erik was so lost in thought that he almost missed it.

He stared at her in surprise. "What did you just say?"

"Are you Erik?" The old woman looked at him critically. She stood up and approached him. Everyone watched quietly.

"How do you know my name?" Erik pressed.

She nodded to the butler. They shared a look and Erik waited impatiently.

"We've been with the Vicomte's family since Raoul was but a baby," the maid explained indicating herself and the butler. Erik glanced at the butler. "About fifteen years ago, the family had been traveling. I had been waiting for their arrival when they informed us that Raoul had been kidnapped."

Erik stared at the woman. So she was old, old enough to know about Raoul's kidnapping, old enough to be there. She seemed to be telling to story not only to him though. She was directing this story to the other servants as well.

"He'd been a happy and outgoing child before then." She smiled wistfully. Glancing at Erik, she continued, "After that incident and he came home, he had changed. They said it was trauma from the experience but he would run to his brother and cry for hours asking why Erik wouldn't come."

Erik could not speak. He wanted to deny what she was saying. He did not want to believe that Raoul reacted as such because it would make him regret the decision he made so long ago. He would regret not going back to Raoul. He would regret believing that Raoul would have forgotten him already, but worse than that regret, Erik did not want to allow himself to hope that he had mattered to Raoul. He did not want to hope that maybe he could still matter to Raoul. It should be evident that Raoul did not care because he had been so easily forgotten.

He opened his mouth to reply with a scathing retort but nothing came out.

"At times when no one else was available," she continued and Erik could not help but want to hear what she was going to say, "I would try to console him. He'd babble nonsense about pinky swears, songs, and having hurt 'Erik'."

Erik tried to remain emotionless, but he was frowning. He should have been there to comfort him. He should have gone back.

"He claimed that monsters had hurt half his face and it was all his fault. Not long after his parents died and he stopped crying about them, he stopped talking about either Erik or his parents, but he eventually seemed to get better. He seemed to recover though he was absent-minded most of the time. He could smile again though."

The only thing Erik could say was, "It wasn't his fault."

The young maid gasped. He glanced over and he saw her crying. He stared at her incredulously. How she could cry for such a story, he did not know. It was a nice distraction from his thoughts though. He did not know what to think or how to respond to the story. It was almost too much information to hear in such short time. It had been illuminating to say the least, but he did not know what to say. He did not know what to believe. Looking at the maid though, Erik could not help but believe her. She knew his name. She knew their past.

Ever since Raoul had become patron, he had wanted to know about his past, but he did not think this was how he would have found out. He was somewhat relieved to hear that Raoul had not forgotten him the moment they had separated. Maybe if he had gone search for him things would have been different. Maybe everything would have been better.

Erik asked just for confirmation, "Does Raoul know?"

No one answered, and he wondered if he should have clarified his question.

The butler responded, "He doesn't remember anything before his parents' death. He doesn't remember you."

"But you do." Erik looked between the butler and the maid. Both nodded.

"As do you," the maid replied.

Erik was suddenly aware that everyone was staring at him. He was not used to this attention. It had been easier when he thought them purely hostile. He did not like their concern. He did not like their pity.

They gathered around the old maid and whispered amongst themselves for a while. Erik hardly cared what they were doing. He did not know whether he should focus on the managers and their betrayal or Raoul and this new information. He could not seem to maintain his anger though. He was still reeling from what he had heard. He could only think that Raoul had wanted him to come back. They had made a pinky swear. Erik had sung to him so that he would not be forgotten. How could he have believed that it had been better to stay in the opera house then? How could he make himself believe that Raoul would have forgotten him?

The group dispersed. Erik watched as one by one they cast a glance at him before leaving the room until only the butler and the maid were left.

The butler turned to him with a grim expression. Erik wondered what his fate would be.

"You may wait for him here," he stated.

Erik looked at him in disbelief. They were going to let him stay? He could not quite believe it.

"If we see you step one foot out of this room, I will not hesitate to kill you," he concluded, and that was more something Erik could understand.

Erik wanted to scoff but he did not want to push what little luck he had. He nodded his agreement. If they were going to let him stay, then he would behave. He hoped Raoul would return soon.

The maid approached him and untied his arms and legs. She scrutinized him and nodded after a moment.

Erik stared at her in confusion. He could not tell what she was thinking. She had saved his life if he thought about it. Both she and the butler could have remained silent about his identity and relation with Raoul, but they had not.

They left him alone and Erik stood up to stretch. He idly walked through the room looking and touching everything. He felt trapped still, but he could not deny that he was excited. He was going to see Raoul again.

He frowned at the thought of the managers, but his mood lightened when he thought of the possible things he could do to them.

A knock on the door disturbed him from his thoughts. Erik moved towards the door but stayed at the entrance of the sitting room. The butler glanced at him before opening the door.

It was empty. He looked down and saw a note on the floor. He picked it up and stepped outside searching for the messenger. He could see no one.

Entering the house, the butler closed the door from the chilly weather. The snow was falling heavily. The butler suddenly had a thought.

He spoke it aloud, "The carriage that was here had been the same from this morning."

Erik waited for an explanation. Seeing that the butler was not going to provide one, he prompted, "What does that matter? Didn't Raoul take his own carriage?"

"No, the coachman had helped us subdue you," the butler replied. Erik wondered who that man had been. He waited anxiously for the butler to explain about the carriage. Something did not feel right. A mysterious letter appeared at the front door of the Vicomte's house could not be a good sign. Erik was well aware of the contents of mysterious notes.

The butler opened the letter and explained, "This morning the opera house sent a carriage and the same carriage was sent in the evening to pick up Raoul for his meeting with the Comte."

"He went to meet the Comte!" Erik almost stepped outside of the sitting room but he managed to catch himself. The butler stared at him. Erik defensively replied, "I didn't step out."

The butler shook his head. Holding the letter towards Erik, he said with worry evident in his voice, "It's for you."

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End Chapter

Word count: 6,260

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Erik finally learns the truth! What's in the letter? And what is he going to do about the managers? Let's hope he doesn't do anything stupid like get caught when trying to kill the managers, Carlotta, and probably the Comte. We can picture him trying though. What about Raoul?!?

Thanks to you awesome reviewers!