Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Raoul and Erik meet before the whole fiasco. This is what happens.
Warning(s): homosexuality (that's what slash is people)
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Author Note: Okay, the IF sequel is winning the votes. There is way too much plot in this story. Just getting the characters where I want them to be is pissing me off (Apparently, I just like writing Erik/Raoul scenes… go figure).
Story Note: Not the greatest action just yet. I think that'll be next chapter. I'm still just trying to get everyone who's supposed to be there, there.
o.o.o.o
Imaginary Friends
Chapter 23 – Surprise?
o.o.o.o
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
o.o.o.o
Last time: Stubborn Raoul still doesn't remember, but at least he knows what he should remember. Carlotta does her ghost thing and gets caught (but by whom?). The kidnapper gets his punishment (Erik's mean, but I think the kidnapper deserved it). Christine gets the assurance she so desires. Firmin and the Comte (who has a name, but I rarely use it) butt heads. Both Philippe and Raoul want to go to the opera house to get revenge! (Oh noes).
o.o.o
The Comte knocked on Carlotta's door. It was a few hours before tonight's performance so by all accounts she should be in her room, preparing since she was absent from the stage. He had been informed of her sudden illness. He had also been informed of the ghost's persisting presence and the sightings that had been had. There were several accounts that they had seen the ghost's mask, hovering in the darkness of the Box seat. He had his suspicions and was just now able to seek some answers.
When there was no response to his knocking, the Comte's eyes narrowed. The mask had been left with Carlotta. He knew that much, but for her to play the ghost was certainly something he hadn't thought she would or could do. Now, it seemed like she was the most likely suspect. This sudden 'illness' that kept her hidden away plus access to a mask.
He knocked again. This time louder and for longer. He would enter the room eventually, but he had to make it seem like he was worried for her well-being.
It was mid-knock when Carlotta opened the door in a huff.
"What are you…" she saw who was at her door. She smiled coyly, though it was a bit shaky, and stepped to the side so that the Comte would be able to enter her room. "Oh, hello Pierre. Is there a problem?" Her voice was an octave too high. She'd been trying to calm her nerves after her encounter in Box 5. Her heart was still racing.
The Comte was speechless for a second. He truly thought that she wouldn't be in her room. It didn't make any sense. The ghost had just been terrorizing the opera house again; there was no way that Carlotta could have run back in that short time. Damn, he had been almost certain that it had to be she who was the cause of all the accidents.
However, the pitch of her voice grated on his nerves, and he tried to hide his wince. She was nervous, possibly even hiding something.
He walked into the room and took a seat. His eyes swept through every object in sight, looking for any indication that Carlotta might be behind this ruse. He didn't know what he was going to find; maybe the mask or a Punjab lasso lying on her bureau – he didn't really have too high of an opinion of her.
She took a seat near him. Clearing her throat, she said in at least her normal voice, "It's pleasant of you to visit again."
"I heard," he scrutinized her, "you had fallen ill. Are you going to perform tonight?"
Carlotta laughed shakily and dramatically threw her head back, "Who knows, dear Pierre? It matters not if I perform. My part does not speak."
Pierre immediately responded, "But of course you must perform. I have come here specifically to see you." That was partially the truth. If she were to perform, he could make sure she was on the stage when he left to nose around the opera house, looking for possible clues. He could also do a more thorough search of her room to look for his mask. Or… "Oh, I left my jacket here this morning. Do you still have it?"
"Jacket?"
He couldn't tell if she was actually confused or if she was faking it.
It took several seconds before Carlotta realized what he was talking about, but by then, she kept her mind completely blank so that she would hopefully not give away the fact that she had been playing the opera ghost.
"This morning when I was called out by the managers." He prompted.
"I remember. After you were called out by the managers, that ruckus occurred. I left the room to see what happened." Carlotta was quite proud of herself at the moment. She had wondered when the Comte would ask her about the jacket, more importantly the mask. It had taken her some time, but she had come up with this lie. At least, she hadn't ruined it by forgetting what he had been talking about at first.
"You left the room?" The Comte's mind raced. If she left the room, it was possible that someone else in the opera house could have found it, but he didn't quite believe her just yet. "Why didn't I see you?"
"See me? After I saw it was the ghost, I immediately left and returned to my room, locking it behind me."
"Where you then claimed to be sick," Pierre concluded. Of course this new illness coincided with the opera ghost because the woman was completely unreasonable about the ghost's presence. He shook his head.
"Claimed?" She exclaimed. "I am unwell." She forced a small cough out. She was feeling calmer, thanks to her anger. Seeing the Comte made her remember why she had done all of that damage in the first place. He deserved to get what was coming to him.
The Comte fought not to roll his eyes. "And my jacket?"
"I hadn't seen it," she said blithely, staring at her nails. She waved off his concern, "It's just a piece of clothing. You can just buy a better one."
He stood up. How could he have thought that this woman was a mastermind that would orchestrate such a thing as that disaster in the morning? Someone else had obviously taken the jacket when she was out.
"Are you going somewhere?" Carlotta stood up alongside of him.
Pierre nodded. "I must speak with the managers." He turned to walk away, but rethought it. He said to Carlotta as earnestly as he could project, "You must perform tonight. I wish to see your beauty upon that stage." He still wanted to investigate what might have happened, and Carlotta needed to be occupied.
She turned away with disdain.
Pierre stepped out without another word.
He heard the screams just as he stepped out of Carlotta's room. Glancing at Carlotta's door and then back towards the screams, he took off running towards the sound. He had barely been the patron but he knew what those screams meant. Those were screams that was usually followed by the phrase "he's here." The he was understood of course.
Now, he was certain that the opera ghost couldn't be Carlotta, unless this was the actual ghost. He sighed in exasperation. This was simply becoming too complicated. He would have to figure out a way to capture both ghosts at the same time or at least figure a way to differentiate between them, assuming the real ghost was here already.
What did he know though? The real ghost had been at the Vicomte's estate. But the Vicomte was dead now. The Comte couldn't use him as bait any longer. Surely, the ghost was after him now. The kidnapper had even warned him.
He could use himself as bait, but that only solved one ghost problem. The saboteur surely would be trying to avoid him, but if the saboteur stayed true to form, an accident or mishap would surely occur during tonight's performance. If he stayed in plain sight, then perhaps he would be able to catch both ghosts.
He arrived at the source of the screams and saw Andre trying to calm them down. The manager was ushering them towards the stage where everyone else had gathered, preparing for the opera.
"What happened?" The Comte asked. There were always the managers who could be the cause of this sabotage, doing so in order to sully his name, in order to have some advantage in their agreement.
Those girls, though beautiful, had all talked at once; their shrieking and jumpy behaviour had even made Andre nervous. "Dear God. They've seen the ghost again."
Staring at him, the Comte could see his hands shaking.
"Perhaps we should cancel tonight's performance?" Andre suggested. It would calm his nerves entirely if they would.
"No," the Comte refused to allow this to go on for longer than it had been, "it must go on. People are already arriving."
Andre stifled a groan. Of course the Comte would want there to be a performance tonight. He feared the worst would occur. Refunding the whole theatre seemed like the better choice between money and opera ghost fiasco. He nodded reluctantly though. "Then, it shall go as planned."
"Where is Firmin?" The Comte looked around, expecting to see the other manager. He found that the two rarely could be found apart.
Andre sighed, "He was just going to speak to the people at the stage again." Firmin was supposed to be giving assurances that the ghost would not be disrupting them very much. It was a lie since he knew no such thing, only hoped to put them at ease. Andre did not think he was going to succeed. He muttered, "He is determined to continue with tonight's opera as well."
Catching the last few words, the Comte nodded appreciatively. It also meant the Firmin was currently unaccounted for.
"Let's go find him so that we can speak."
o.o.o
Now that the costumes and the stage were being closely watched, very few places could be terrorized safely. Sure, the ghost shouldn't be showing himself this much around the opera house, but this was an exception after all. This was warfare against the Comte. The ghost had always been subtle, in a noticeable way. This was simply being noticeable at every possible chance.
His presence had to be flaunted in front of the Comte though, and if that meant some atypical behavior, then surely it wouldn't matter as long as the purpose would be carried out. It was alright that everyone was practically huddled together and not moving further from the protected stage more than was necessary, but there would be casualties in the battle that was going on around them. It wasn't as though they were actually huddling. They were still preparing for the opera tonight, albeit more cautiously than in the past. The opera was going to move forward.
After another successful run in with some unfortunate chorus girls, the ghost ran down the hall and slipped into one of the boxes. Their screams would surely have been heard by all the right people, and if they weren't, the gossip surely would. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, the ghost pulled off his costume.
Firmin took a deep breath in and fixed his hair and clothing. He was tired from running around. The ghost surely got a lot of exercise. He smirked, feeling victorious.
Stashing the mask and costume in the corner, he noted the box number before racing towards the stage. He needed to make an appearance there as well; at least, this time as a manager.
o.o.o
Madame Giry watched the stage and the catwalks above closely. It was odd. Erik wasn't this unreasonable. There was always an irritant that prompted these bouts of damage. Yet, there were all these ghost sightings and she still had not yet received word from him. Something was very wrong with what was happening. Surely, he wouldn't cause so much damage to the stage and the props when he knew that Christine was the lead. He had made no other request.
Then again, they way that Christine's 'angel' had said good-bye was probably a very good indication that Erik would no longer be acting so much in her best interest. He was moving on after all.
She still couldn't understand what the problem was then. If he had found his reason to leave again, then shouldn't he just leave? Why remain any longer than necessary?
Madame Giry was tempted to go down to his lair herself and get some answers. He would have to return home eventually, but there was always the fear of how well she would be received after what had happened to the stage that morning; the damage the opera house took was always comparable to the anger that Erik felt. Erik was mad.
After seeing the chorus girls rushing towards the stage, she sighed. Another sighting? This was absurd. It was as though he was trying to get himself killed.
There was no point in waiting for him to show himself. She would just have to take the chance. She'd been to his home in the past and knew how to get there safely. Hopefully, he was in a better mood than he seemed.
o.o.o
On the way over to the stage, Andre noticed for the first time that the man wasn't wearing a jacket.
"Should I call your valet to bring your jacket, Comte?" Andre offered. Even the patron should be wearing the proper attire for an opera.
The Comte gave him a dirty look. "I left it here this morning in Carlotta's room and it seems to have gone missing."
"A jacket?" Why did that remind Andre of something?
"Yes."
Then he remembered. The jacket in Box 5. "Was that yours?"
"Was what his?" Firmin met them, walking from the other direction.
He had nearly run into them in his rush to the stage, but luckily, they hadn't noticed. Using a different path, he had cut in front of them.
The Comte responded, "A jacket."
Firmin frowned. His mind immediately knew what he was talking about. As in the jacket they had found in Box 5 with the note that he just recently found out was from Carlotta. The jacket that Carlotta had found the ghost's mask in. Proof. The ghost was dead, or was he? The Comte claimed that he was alive, but Firmin had caught Carlotta pretending to be the ghost himself.
He thought he handled finding that out very well. He hadn't yelled or raged at the damage she caused because he had been right, Carlotta had her own plans. It hadn't been difficult to get her to allow him into her plans after convincing her that he was on her side. She would deal with consequences after he dealt with the Comte. He had been surprised that she had been doing so well with her plans. Now it was his turn to take out his frustrations on the opera house and the Comte. Once he had the opera house under the right control again, the control of the managers, then, things could calm down.
As for the actual ghost, perhaps he was still alive, but there'd been no indication that he was. Firmin would deal with that later when he had to.
"I believe," Firmin stated cautiously, "we found a jacket in Box 5."
"Box 5?" The Comte parroted. He sneered, "You mean the opera ghost's box."
He shrugged, "It's not really his box. Well, it was reserved for him," He amended pointedly, "I mean. It still is reserved for him."
Laughing humourlessly, the Comte replied, "Well, where is it."
"Where's what? Box 5?" Firmin was being difficult on purpose. He smirked when he saw the Comte losing his patience. The man deserved the same aggravation the managers had felt having to deal with the ghost and prima donnas.
"Where's my jacket?"
Firmin looked to Andre. "What did you do with it?"
"I think I left it there." Andre admitted.
The Comte was about to yell at the man, but realized this was a perfect opportunity. What better place to get the ghost's attention than in his own box? "It is quite alright," he stated, sounding quite generous, "I will be watching the opera from Box 5 tonight."
"What?" The managers said in unison.
"I'll be watching from Box 5."
Andre hesitatingly said, "Comte, that cannot be done."
"It is reserved for a reason," Firmin nodded, but he was beginning to think that having the Comte sit in that box was not that bad of an idea, "You said so yourself. The ghost is alive."
The Comte scoffed, "It is nothing I cannot handle. You worry about getting everyone on that stage. And I will worry about the ghost." He stormed off to investigate his seat for the performance.
Andre turned to Firmin and said frantically, "What are we going to do?"
Firmin placed his hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him. "Everything will be alright. I promise you."
"The ghost!"
"Surely it cannot be that bad."
"The Comte."
"Can take care of himself, apparently," Firmin rolled his eyes.
"How about Carlotta?"
"I have a feeling," he smirked, "that she is getting ready as we speak."
Andre took a deep breath and realized that he had no more complaints. His partner had answered all his questions, but he was still anxious about tonight. He had a feeling that they should have just cancelled or postponed it.
"I hope you're right."
o.o.o
Though feeling more satisfied now that he had dealt with the kidnappers, Erik couldn't explain the impatience he felt. He couldn't get his revenge on the Comte, the managers, or Carlotta immediately. If he acted out of turn, then they would surely try to run or call the police. He would have to have perfect timing. However, waiting seemed more difficult now than it had ever before in his life.
The reason was obvious of course. It was the same reason that had set this whole fiasco in motion. Raoul. Raoul was the reason he had said goodbye to Christine. He was the reason why he was finally willing to leave the Opera Populaire. He was also the reason why Erik didn't want to wait any longer to get his revenge. He had somewhere else to be, and as long as Raoul was there, Erik was going to return to that estate as quickly as possible. He had pinky sworn after all.
Raoul wanted him to come back. And that thought alone was enough to banish the doubts he had about being in Raoul's life. It also banished thoughts of kidnapping him again. Mostly because even Erik had to admit, being kidnapped twice in one lifetime was more than enough, and because if the Vicomte was inviting him, he didn't want to ruin whatever was going to happen between them.
There were so many things he wanted to clarify. Well, firstly, he wanted to ask Raoul about his false fiancé. Why make her up in the first place? Then, there was that faraway look he often got. But, the biggest topic to breach would be the boy's past. Erik couldn't believe that he really didn't remember anything. He had no idea how he was even supposed to talk about that day or explain what had happened, but at least, Raoul would know that at one point, Erik had meant something to him.
Why was he even here still? Erik realized that he could be with Raoul this very second without contest.
But, he couldn't let the Comte live. It was just that simple; it would bother him the rest of his life if the Comte managed to get away with his life.
He'd been walking around the opera house and he'd eventually been updated on what had been happening in his absence. His mind had formed quite a particularly good plan on how to deal with his impersonators. They seemed to like making a caricature of him, making fun of who he was. Considering who they were, it wouldn't be difficult to return the favor. He had several things to pick up before the opera started.
Then the Comte. The main show. How to even return the favor? Killing him was simply too nice. Oh, he would like the watch the man self-destruct on his own, but the temptation of killing the man with his own two hands was too great. He'd need an appropriate ending of course, a way to destroy him and his life in one fell swoop.
o.o.o
From the wings of the stage, Meg and Christine stole peeks at the crowd that was just beginning to settle down.
"This is going to be perfect," Christine said to herself. It had to be, but she couldn't stifle the feeling of dread that had begun to bother not too long ago.
Meg nodded, "I'm surprised that we were able to repair everything."
They pulled away from the curtain.
"I know…" Christine stopped when Carlotta hit her shoulder as she walked by.
"Watch where you are going," Carlotta glared at her.
Meg whispered, "I'm surprised she suddenly felt better."
Christine giggled and shrugged. Carlotta no longer had any effect on her. She was too worried about singing for her father and angel tonight to worry about her. "I'm glad we're performing tonight."
"Who are you?" Meg joked, "And what have you done with Christine?"
"Today has been a good day," Christine said with a faraway look in her eyes.
Meg waved her hand in front of her face, "Where were you today?"
Christine couldn't help but smile. "Right here. I guess everyday I'm able to sing is a good day."
"True," Meg was glad for Christine. She'd never seen her friend in such high spirits in so long. She wasn't the shy, chorus girl that she had started off as. It was a nice change for once. Meg looked around in confusion for a second, "Do you know where my mother is?"
Frowning, Christine searched as well. "No, I haven't seen her. The performance is going to start soon. That's unlike her."
Meg nodded. "She said she had an errand to attend to, but I thought for certain she would be back."
"I'm sure she's alright."
"I suppose." Meg wasn't so sure though. The opera ghost was loose. Who knew what he was doing?
o.o.o
A knock on the door was the only warning Raoul had before Philippe walked in. Raoul pulled the covers up higher.
"Philippe?" He murmured.
Sitting gingerly on the edge of his bed, Philippe put a hand on Raoul's forehead, "Sorry. Did I wake you?"
Raoul replied, the words still a little muffled, "No."
Philippe laughed.
"What are you doing up?" Raoul asked. He tried to sit up, but Philippe motioned for him to stay still.
"You're still a little warm. You definitely should sleep in for the rest of the day."
"That's all I've been doing because someone won't let me leave my room," Raoul pointed out. Every time he tried to leave, one of the servants would tell him to get back inside. He protested, but they always threatened to get Philippe, who in Raoul's opinion, was the one that really needed to be the one sleeping. "And you still haven't answered my question. You should be lying down."
"I'm fine now, Raoul," Philippe said. It was partially true. He could breathe without the wound hurting so much anymore. It still hurt, but not as much. Walking was getting better too, though stairs were currently the bane of his existence. "I need to talk to you."
"Okay."
"I want you to stay here." Philippe said in all seriousness.
Raoul looked at him wide-eyed thinking that Philippe had somehow found out about his plan to leave.
How would he have done that? Erik asked.
I don't know.
Erik replied. Only two people know about your plan, and I didn't tell him. Did you?
Raoul didn't bother responding.
His brother continued, "I'm going to the opera house."
"Wait. What?" Raoul definitely had not expected that. "You can't."
"I need to go for you and for me, Raoul," Philippe said, not quite looking at him, "I wanted you to find out from me."
"Why can't I go with you? I'm more healthy than you."
Brothers, Erik scoffed. I think you two must spend too much time together. You're starting to think alike.
"I have to go for the sake of our honor," Philippe stated calmly, even though the anger was just there under the surface. It wasn't quite honor. He wanted to kill the man that had hurt Raoul. "And I'm older so I have this privilege if it were between the two of us."
"My honor's the one at question," Raoul shot back. "And I have more reason to go."
"I'm the one that was shot."
"More reason that I should go."
"No, more reason that I should."
How old are you two? Erik asked. I thought you had grown out of these arguments.
"I need to know that you'll be safe," Philippe met his eyes sincerely.
Raoul opened his mouth to protest.
Then, Philippe asked, "For me?"
Seeing his brother's expression, Raoul closed his mouth. Pouting, he looked away. "For you. I'll stay here."
He's not playing fair. He commented to Erik.
Erik was laughing. He's quite good at that actually. I'll have to learn a thing or two about that technique.
Like I need you to be any more persuasive.
"I'm glad." Kissing Raoul's forehead like he used to do when they had been younger, Philippe stood up to leave.
Raoul frowned at the sign of affection. "Be safe, brother."
Philippe nodded. "I will. I'll bring back our wayward ghost, too."
Raoul smiled. He waited until he heard the carriage leave when he threw the covers off. He was fully dressed.
I thought you promised him you would stay? Erik asked.
Shrugging, Raoul replied, I did stay. I stayed until he left. Now, we're going. The opera should have started already.
Why, Erik asked no one in particular, am I not even surprised?
o.o.o
It was taking much longer than Madame Giry remembered to make her way down to Erik's home. Grabbing a torch from the wall, she had taken the quickest route she knew. However, the tunnels seemed different than she remembered as she hit a dead end. Then, she had proceeded to get lost several times more because most of the passageways that she knew had similarly been blocked. Erik never did so unless someone had gotten into the tunnels. No one in the opera house had disappeared, so it seemed unlikely that any one of them had managed to find their way into them; Erik would certainly have killed anyone who entered his domain.
She was just about to give up her search for his home when she came across the lake. The portcullis had been lowered, but she knew there was a tunnel to the side that went through a series of smaller tunnels just to get to the other side.
It was going to take more time, but she was already going to be late for the opera. There was no point in rushing back now. The eerie quiet that greeted her arriving at Erik's home had been enough to convince her that she had made the right decision to investigate. He would never have let her get this far without first confronting her. He wasn't by his organ either, which was where Madame Giry always found him the few times she came down.
She walked out of the tunnel and approached the organ. There were papers strewn on the floor, as though Erik had been in a rush and hadn't taken the time to pick them up. Nothing else looked out of the ordinary though. Then, her eye caught a passageway that she's never noticed before.
Cautiously looking around, Madame Giry kept her ears open just in case Erik was around.
"Erik," she called realizing that sneaking further into his home without first trying to call him would be a bad idea. "Erik!" She tried again before heading towards the tunnel. Walking through it, she realized that this was more of a hallway.
As she approached the first room, she gasped. There were wood chips and splintered frames spread about. Everything, furniture and portraits, was broken. Some of them were burned and the walls were marked. She could only assume the furniture had been thrown against them.
It was evident that something had indeed happened to Erik. With so much destruction, she was surprised that the opera house hadn't suffered more. Unless this hadn't been destruction from Erik's rage, but a fight. She rushed into the room looking for blood. It might be bad. It might be the reason he was saying goodbye to Christine and allowing more sightings of himself.
There was no blood in the room though. She ran to the next room but it looked immaculate. Portraits of Christine and of Paris filled it. She didn't take the time to look at them more closely. She wanted to make sure that Erik hadn't gotten a fatal wound of some sort.
Standing back in the tunnel she noticed that the candles leading towards the deeper rooms were noticeably shorter. She ran further into the tunnel, glancing by the rooms she passed. At the very end, she spotted a sheet strewn on the floor. Imprints in the dust told her that Erik had probably been there.
Stepping in, she looked at the area where the dust was disturbed. No blood. Madame Giry relaxed just a fraction. She turned to leave when she caught sight of a painting.
o.o.o
The Comte settled in Box 5. He couldn't really focus on the opera. Well, he was focusing on the prima donna. She was a thing of beauty that Mlle Daae. So young, so vibrant. So very different from Carlotta. That was quite the prize he would receive for catching two ghosts.
Speaking of ghosts, none had appeared yet even though the curtain had been drawn. He expected more dramatics, perhaps even more stage mishaps. So far, however, nothing. If the ghosts were hiding, he would have to find a way to draw them out.
Looking across the auditorium, he noticed that Firmin was missing. He narrowed his eyes. If the ghost were to be seen again, he didn't care if he was wrong, he was going to confront that manager.
It seemed too convenient that he was always away when something with the ghost occurred. Though, during the stage incident, both managers had been with him. It could be some sort of conspiracy. He had looked back towards the stage when a sound in the hallway outside his box caught his attention. It sounded like a muffled yell.
Quickly rushing out of his box, he looked up and down the hallway only to find it empty.
He had been so certain though. Someone had been there. Returning to his seat, he kept part of his attention straining to hear anything in the hallway again.
o.o.o
Even with all the clothing that Raoul had put on, Erik noted how cold Raoul was feeling before he said, Do you think this is a really good idea?
I think it's a brilliant idea. Raoul asserted. It's perfectly safe, too.
How do you exactly figure that? Erik asked, amused.
Well, Raoul explained, we arrive. Everyone's already inside, including Philippe. God only knows what he's going to do, but the only thing we need to do is stay out of sight.
Stay out of sight? Erik asked.
Yes.
Aren't we going to do something else?
Raoul shrugged. We are going to make sure that both Philippe and the ghost return home safely.
By staying out of sight. Erik reiterated.
Raoul didn't answer immediately since they had arrived at the opera house. He dismounted and drew his cloak around him. It was cold, but there really wasn't anything he could do about that any more besides going inside. He covered his face and allowed the servant to attend to his horse.
We're keeping an eye on them. He stated.
Shouldn't we be doing something about the Comte?
Raoul didn't particularly care about the Comte. He projected the feeling to Erik as he entered the opera house.
You should care. He hurt all of you.
But we're fine, Raoul said. Sure, I dislike the man and wish he had a horrible death, but I would rather that we all stay alive. Philippe's the closest family I have and the ghost is, well, I don't know what he is just yet.
I guess. Erik conceded.
Moving quickly, Raoul tried to stay inconspicuous. He knew the perfect place to keep an eye on everything that was happening. Box 5. No one used it, and he could watch the stage and the managers' box. If the ghost happened to be there, then that would even be better. He wouldn't have to look very hard for him.
Raoul walked through the familiar hallways that would lead him to the box.
Well, you better make sure nothing happens to you. Erik replied. They would never forgive you.
Nothing's going to happen to me. Raoul retorted.
He turned the corner as he finished the thought. Stopping abruptly, he grimaced and was tempted to turn around and walk away quickly. Instead, he stood there and smiled his most apologetic smile.
That was quicker than expected. Erik commented.
"Hello… brother."
o.o.o
o.o.o.o
End Chapter 23
Word count: 5,468
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter review: If you're wondering, Why do they talk oddly sometimes? Well, that's how they sound in my head. You'll have to deal. What's going to happen now?
Vote: As stated in the previous chapters: your vote… Masked Series part 03 or Imaginary Friends continuation… honestly, they'll both have happy endings (I'm sure you were worried about that with respect to the Masked Series, but I said I'd give a happy ending) and I'll eventually write both of them, but it's your choice. Or, if you want another story, why not vote for that too… if there's a tie, I get to pick w/e story I want. :)