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

Summary: ErikRaoul slash (finally). Story continuation of A Mask for All Occasions. Visiting Christine.

Warning(s): mentions of abuse again (sorry, Raoul!)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

Story Notes: Okay, so by now hopefully you get what I'm going to be doing with this story, not plot wise, but how I'm writing it. I'm going to switch POV's between Erik and Raoul though there is a guest POV that's popped up, but it'll be parallel action. So, that means that in action that has both of them together it will have major overlap. I just wanted you to know that because they're eventually going to share a scene (sort of like this chapter) and it'll seem a bit on the repetitive side.

Second story note: This story is surprisingly character driven. I hope my characterization of them isn't completely off base; I don't think I've done anything egregious to them (except some people may say making them gay is, but still). It's also slow. Like, when I'm writing it, I'm partly thinking why isn't there one of those good parts (that I know is coming) in this chapter. Not to say that each chapter doesn't have a good part. I'm just used to a lot of action and a lot less thinking. I guess that's it.

A/N: Well, yeah, the weekend sucked. I was out of the house and working from morning to evening with only enough time to eat and shower. Too much work to catch up on. I keep falling asleep… damn that whole having to sleep thing. --' Yeah, and I keep meaning to title these chapters because it just doesn't seem right to me for them not to have names, but I figure I'll just let that pet peeve slip by. You can figure out the theme I'm working towards anyway, right?

Thanks for my main contributors to that whole review thing. Yeah, that. We got another person reviewing… it's insane! That makes 5 people I know for sure are reading this.

Thanks to:
xdark.flowerx – I hated Christine too, and in the way beginning before writing, I was torn on which pairing with her I should read because I love POTO, but then I saw Erik/Raoul and I couldn't believe I didn't see it! Oh, yeah… morning classes are evil, probably because mornings are too.
PuppetofDreams – I used to have old English moods… actually whenever I read Shakespeare I end up thinking like that too. This update is pretty late, but yeah, hopefully I'll remedy that.
whatevergirl – thanks for the update.
Mithril Maiden – I'll try my hardest to update faster. It's a crazy balancing act I'm not too good at… yet.
psychonerd 5 – Erik's fickle. He'll figure out soon enough that he can't be a villain anymore (well, hopefully he'll figure it out, right?) (and that little voice in my head is taunting me, saying 'great save')

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Unmasking the Chains

Chapter 03

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Raoul's POV

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Last time:

I had rushed to her room and knocking on the door, I heard no answer. I knocked again, a little worried. With the thought that she could be in danger, I entered the room. No one was in it. It made sense that she would be out having breakfast or doing other things. I could not help but feel silly for my irrationality. My paranoia was starting to catch up with me. I would have to be a little more trusting. We were free. The opera ghost was nowhere in sight and I still had time to ponder my next step. I sat down and decided to wait for her. I had initially wanted to be alone; at least I could spend this time to just think.

o.o.o

Maybe just thinking in this room by myself was not the smartest idea ever. I could not help but wonder where my life was going. My confrontation with Philippe was throwing me off balance. He was making me question my whole reason for being. Just a little support would have been nice. It would have been nice to have some confirmation that what I wanted was not completely off base, was not completely idiotic and selfish to work toward.

Why was I struggling so hard for this opera house? I had once thought it was because I liked it. I thought that it made me happy. I had even thought that it allowed me some freedom. Freedom. I scoffed at the thought. This opera house was just as constraining as my house or society. It was society. It was simply because I did not realize it. I did not realize it had been just another role to play.

Why was I struggling so hard against my family? Weren't they people who only had my best interests in mind? My mother always worried about me. I knew that much. She always tried to do what was best for me. I always remembered her as she was before my father died. She had changed drastically, but I think she's just misled sometimes. At least she did not know about Philippe's lessons. It would have hurt to know that she did not stop it, almost like it had hurt this morning when she had said allowing me to spend time with the Daae's had been a mistake. Philippe. He was also trying the best he could. I could not fault him completely. He tried to be a father to me, but he did not realize that what I needed hadn't been a father. I had needed and wanted a brother.

Why was I struggling so hard to keep a girl I no longer wanted? Christine wasn't what I wanted. I doubted that she could ever become the person I truly wanted. I should just let her go. I should give her some of the freedom that I wanted. She should not be stuck to a person who only wanted to use her. She looked as though she had feelings for the opera ghost. Though she had been kidnapped, she spoke of it in awe and not terror. Her terror was always second to some other emotion I could not properly name.

What was the point of it all? I did not know what I was struggling for and for whom. This mystery person I think myself to be could just be another role. Maybe I was just looking at it all wrong. Maybe I was all my roles, but all of them combined. I doubted it though. I abhorred most of the things I had to say and how I had to act, but I could not stop acting. There was something stopping me from doing it, and sadly enough, it was my own fear.

But, I couldn't allow myself to think like this. I was supposed to be strong enough to struggle against these doubts.

It was frustrating though. I knew what I wanted, but nothing I knew currently could provide me with it. Admittedly, the closest thing to it would be Christine. I had to struggle to keep her. She was the only person around who could at least see some part of who I really was. The mere thought of her could make me smile. It may have been because of the past, but being around her made me feel less fake. I was still acting, but I knew with time I could make her see that the roles were not who I was. She would be able to understand. She was an actress. She had to play roles on stage, but that did not make any of those characters who she was. She definitely had to understand.

But what if she did not? What if she could not understand that being a Vicomte was not who I really was? That there was another person beneath it all. I had come here to Christine's room to find solace. I didn't think that it would cause me such confusion. I was starting to think I was too dependent on Christine. I was too dependent on the thought that she would be different. What if she could not be different?

She was my fiancée though. There was a good reason that she was. She was not like everyone else. She did not want anything from me besides my company.

I knew I was frowning, but in the privacy that Christine's room provided, I knew that I did not have to fake the smile. Still, habit had me leaning against the table and letting my hair fall like a curtain around my face. I could frown, but it still felt too open to allow such emotions to be plainly read on my face.

I absently grabbed some strands of my hair and stared as it slowly slipped through my fingers. Philippe's hair was short and he often got irritated at me for having such long hair, but I liked it long. He never said anything aloud anymore, but sometimes whenever he looked at me, I would see disapproval flash across his eyes. I did not care though. It made me different from him, and though I respected Philippe, I did want to assert some defiance against him. I remembered when I first decided to grow my hair out. Philippe had actually been livid since I had gone almost a year without having to be disciplined or taught a lesson, but when time came to cut my hair, I defiantly stood my ground. I told him I did not want to cut it.

I had cringed when he stormed at me and had cried out when he grabbed me by my hair throwing me to the ground. I always tried to remain silent when Philippe taught me lessons because he preferred it that way. He said it was a sign of weakness to let anyone know what you were really feeling. He said it was good that I remained silent when the blows fell because it meant I was growing up stronger. I did not want to look weaker in my brother's eyes. In my defense, I had only cried out because I hadn't expected him to grab my hair like that.

He had yelled, "You want to grow your hair out?"

I nodded and made to stand up. I knew if I stayed on the ground Philippe would only be further enraged. "Yes, brother. I want it longer."

"You look feminine enough," he was pacing in front of me. His voice had gotten even, "you don't need to have long hair. Vicomte's don't have long hair."

"But," I replied, trying to keep my voice as even, but failing. I had wanted to say, 'I want it longer. Isn't that enough?' But that would have been asking for a punch to the stomach or worse the reed again. Instead, I opted to say with a bit of practiced arrogance, "I'm going to be a better Vicomte than any one of those around and I would rather not be compared to them."

Philippe had stared at me for a moment. He was considering how to react to my response. Philippe was dangerous when he was thinking. He often came up with cruel punishments and would always find a way to trap me in statements I thought were okay. I always thought that it had been an unfair advantage. Philippe was older and more experienced than I was, and he seemed to always be thinking five steps ahead of me. I had been thirteen and was in that growth spurt period. This insular moment comprised the totality of my teenage rebellion stage. Philippe had not allowed any rebellion past this one. I had grown taller and I was filling out properly. With the regiment Philippe put me on, I was in good shape though I was still a little scrawny. Philippe could have easily overpowered me still if he wanted to, and I had prayed to God that he did not feel like it. Instead, he nodded his head slowly and staring me down he said, "If it grows longer than an inch past your shoulders, I'm going to cut it myself."

Then he had left. It was disturbing at best. He left the threat unsaid, but he had taken scissors to me a couple of times before. I had the scars from those as well. It had not been a pleasant experience. I shivered at the thought, but at least, I had been able to keep my hair long. There had been a time when I almost considered cutting it off, but I had not wanted to let this one little victory go. And now, now I just would not want to. It was a sign of the person that was buried underneath all these guises. It meant that there was still some hope.

Hope. That was what Christine was supposed to be for me as well. She was my hope that someone else besides myself would believe in that person. Someone else would see the person I really was and not who I had been forced and taught to present myself as.

Yet, always when I thought of hope, I could not stop the doubt from entering my mind. Doubt plagued every hope I ever had. Enough so that being left alone, I would feel nothing but depression. I would think of hopes and dreams and end up with emptiness and despair. Similar to how I felt right now actually.

Frustrated. Depressed. Lost. I did not know the next step to take. I had to have a plan if I wanted to change my life, but nothing seemed to be changing. With Philippe back, for every step I had taken forward, it felt as though I had fallen three more back. Even without Philippe's presence, my plan had already been falling apart. I was falling apart. I was supposed to become my own person, be a productive member of society and prove my worth in business. I was just supposed to prove my worth in general, not to society, not to my family, but to myself. I needed to know that I was not worthless, that I was not chained to this position without any skills or talents of my own. Moreover, I was supposed to marry Christine so that in it all, I would have someone who saw me. I would love her. I would support her and provide her with everything she ever wanted, and she would simply have to understand that I was not all those roles. I was something more. Then suddenly, I stopped believing she could do anything for me. When I found that out, I knew that I had to break it off, but I could not. I just could not.

Suddenly, the door opened and Christine walked in.

Surprised, she let out a small yelp, "Raoul! I hadn't known you were here. Why didn't you call me?"

I was still frowning but I offered a small smile for her. "I hadn't planned to come here. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing."

She stared at me for a moment. Her expression reminded me when Philippe was studying me. She walked toward me with a frown on her face. "Don't be so sad, Raoul. You shouldn't let your lady-love worry about you in such a manner."

I opened my mouth to respond, but her response was like a blow to the face. I was thrown completely off kilter. It was only because of all the practice that I'd had was I able to recover quickly. I schooled my features and smiled brightly, but inside my head, I was screaming. There it was again. The smile made me want to cry. I could even feel my throat constrict.

"… having everything you'd ever wanted, and even now you have a fiancé. You should be joyous." Christine laughed lightly at her own words.

I had missed part of her statement so I waited until the echoes of my yell stopped before responding, "Of course. I was just having a terrible morning. Nothing to worry about."

Christine nodded and turned to walk away. I quickly stood up and grabbing her around her waist, spun her around. Her laughter was joyous and expectant so I forced a laugh that sounded half hysterical to my own ears. Christine said nothing of the sort, so I brushed it off as being my imagination.

"Now," I placed her down and let her continue to move around the room. I sat down and made certain I looked attentive, "What are you up to this morning?"

Christine excited turned, "The masquerade of course."

"The masquerade? Isn't that still a month away?"

She chided him gently, "Love, there's so much to do."

Love? I inwardly cringed at the word. At least she had not called me Angel. I smiled anyway and forced myself to get caught up in her excitement, "There can't be too much. Andre and Firmin would have told me as much."

Christine rolled her eyes playfully, "Not on the business side, dear. We are all practicing the performance for the night. We're going to get new dresses," she emphasized this with a playful twirl, "and masks and we're going to learn a new dance as well."

"So you've been under Madame Giry's care again," I prompted.

"Yes, yes," she replied sitting by the mirror.

I absently realized that Christine never really looked at me when we spoke. Not when we spoke of ordinary things. I thought back to all the times we had spoken. I was certain we had been staring into each other's eyes on the rooftop when we sang together. There were more times than not however when Christine would turn away from me to look off into space. I had always figured that Christine was a bit absentminded. She was often liable to daydream in the middle of a conversation when we were little and I figured it must have just carried on to adulthood. Now, I was not sure.

She seemed somehow lost to me as though she had never really been with me to start with. It was as though she was somewhere else completely when she was supposed to be here with me. It was different than when I saw her singing in Hannibal. When she had sung, it had felt as though she had been more than just there. It had felt as though her presence had filled the entire opera house. It had felt as though she could reach you personally – her voice touching your heart and mind. I had been drawn to that presence. It felt more real to me than the person I was.

But when she was alone with me, it was as though I could not hold her complete attention. Even when she had sung with me, it had felt differently. Her voice sounded like it was lacking something vital. Her song did not make my heart soar as it did before. Now, it could not reach me at all. It seemed as though she was not even trying to anymore.

I was trying though. I had been. I had been trying to capture her attention, but it always seemed divided. It always seemed like she was hiding something from me.

"Raoul. Raoul!" Christine yelled.

I looked up at her in confusion.

"Were you even listening to what I was saying?"

I opened my mouth to lie, but I did not want to have to lie to her. I wanted to stop the pretenses, so I told the truth. "Sorry, Christine. I guess I haven't been sleeping well lately."

She looked affronted, as though I had just paid her the greatest insult possible.

"If I'm so boring," she started and I wished I had just lied to her and said I was listening, "then maybe you should just leave."

"No, Christine," I said standing up, "You are the only person interesting enough to keep my attention." I walked over to where she was sitting in front of her mirror. I looked at myself for a moment and wanted nothing more than to punch the reflection. I knew exactly what I would see. I would see a fake smile, fake worry, fake concern, and fake interest. Fake. Christine was not the only person that could keep my attention. Nowadays, it seemed as though no one could wake me from my thoughts without yelling at me. I lied to her and it had come so easily. I was acting again, but I couldn't stop. Not when Christine was at stake. I placed my hands on her shoulders, "What were you saying? Please repeat it for me."

Christine glared, and I pouted slightly at her. I knew what effect that had on her, on anyone really. She grinned at me and lightly hit my hand.

It worked. Damn it. I should have just been an actor if I was going to do it everyday of my life.

"I was explaining how everything will be so splendid and how the dance is just perfect. The music will be upbeat and I'm training with the ballet girls since I'm probably not going to be the prima donna anymore now that Carlotta's back and the phantom's gone."

I was lucky that I had been paying attention this time because I saw that she was expecting a response.

"Christine, don't say such things. You will be prima donna again," seeing her face light up, I knew that I had said the right words, "Everyone loves you, but the managers are too blinded by Carlotta's longevity here to notice that she has long since past her prime."

Christine smiled brightly at me, and still she said nothing.

I knelt on one knee and grabbed her hand in mine, "You never needed the phantom to become a star. You will become one again. I'm certain of it."

I wondered briefly if that would be enough. I was relieved when she finally responded.

"Raoul," she her eyes finally focused on me. I had not noticed that they had been gazing off elsewhere, "you are too kind."

I secretly followed where her eyes had been looking at and saw my reflection again. She had been staring at herself? The word prima donna stuck in my mind. It was a fitting title.

I did not think I could keep lying like that. It was not all a lie, but I hated giving compliments in such a manner. It was bootlicking. It was just hollow flattery that a person should not hear too much because it gets to their head. It makes them forget that people have both their strengths and weaknesses and that both made the person really great. It reminded me of my brother. Philippe surrounded himself with people who were yes-men. He did not want to hear their opinions. He wanted them to praise him and tell him all his ideas were good. I worried that he would lose touch with reality so much that his whole world would come crashing down on him.

Losing touch with everything you thought you knew was frightening. I had not yet crashed, but I was wavering wildly. I hoped the time would not come too soon when I lost it completely. Now, I feared that Christine would lose herself in her own world. Some part of me knew that would not happen though. Christine was similar to Philippe, but she was somehow something more. She could concentrate on a moment at will. She could command attention when she tried to and be ignored with just as much effort. She was an actress in every way. She was used to being different things to different people.

I knew Christine liked the feeling of being seen. She craved it almost as much as I did, but she did not seem to care whether people saw her true self. She only cared about them seeing the talented side of her. She wanted their praise. She sought it. I always congratulated her after each performance and told her my honest opinion in practices. She had her good days and her bad, but I often had to lie when she had bad days. It was another thing I was ashamed of. I honestly tried not to lie to her. Christine was undoubtedly a talented singer. I knew that all too well. It had been what had attracted me to her, that quality of her voice that could just reach anyone. It was as though she was singing just for you.

I did not know how much of her voice was the phantom's doing, how much of her voice was actually his. I did know that the ghost was only her tutor. He probably would not have tutored her had she no talent at all. From his demands and insults to Carlotta, it also seemed as though he was a perfectionist. Christine seemed to almost be there. I worried that he would come back for her. I knew he would come back for her actually. I was worried about how I should react though.

The phantom was a mystery. He acted out and gave ridiculous demands thinking that we would bow to him. Admittedly, we would for the sake of saving lives, but I wondered what he would really get out of it all. I wondered what he wanted because once we figured that out, he would not be a problem. Give the man what he wanted and hope that it would be enough. He wanted Christine though. Could I give her to him? Would she even go? Was she even mine to give up?

Christine began to touch my hair. I struggled to focus on her. She frowned again.

"You should cut your hair, Raoul," she commented not really even looking at me. She caught my eyes and smiled, "I'll even cut it for you if you like."

I stood up quickly and grabbed her hand gently. No one touched my hair except for myself. I had tried to pay for a haircut before but when the man had brought the scissors near me, I could not do it. I could name stop flinching away from him, and he told me he could not cut properly when I kept moving. I did not try to get my hair cut by anyone else ever again. I had become quite proficient in doing it myself anyway.

Christine was looking at me expectantly again.

I laughed nervously, "It's not that I don't trust you to do it, but I rather like my hair long."

She made another face, "It's childish, Raoul. I remember when we were younger, you had shorter hair. You looked quite dashing."

When we were younger, I had never bothered to care about my hair. I never thought that I would have to struggle to keep it whatever length I wanted.

"It's staying long, Christine," I stated simply, but I lightened my tone and added, "Do you not think I look dashing enough as is?"

She giggled, and the sound irritated me.

"You look perfectly handsome. Like a knight in shining armor," she commented flippantly.

Yeah, a knight. I thought despondently. I was supposed to be the knight that protected the damsel in distress, but this knight was weak and this damsel looked nothing to be in distress.

"Well, then," I playfully bowed to her, "Would you allow me the honor of being your escort on the night of the masquerade?"

She smiled, daintily held out her hand. "Of course I would love for you to be my escort. Who else would I take?"

I kissed her hand and had to do a double take. That was odd, "Where's your ring, Christine?"

Christine took her hand back quickly. She looked around suspiciously before saying, "Don't say it so loudly, Raoul! Someone may hear."

I looked around the room as well and commented, "We're in your room, Christine. Who would hear us? The walls are not so thin that merely speaking could be heard. I had merely asked you where your ring was."

That had been defensive. I knew she did not wear it often, but I thought she would wear it sometimes. I never saw her with it on when I visited in the afternoon, so I thought that maybe she wore it in the mornings.

"The walls have ears, Raoul," Christine dragged him away from the mirror.

Raoul looked back to see what she was pulling him away from. The mirror? "Christine, you needn't worry about the phantom any longer. He has not shown himself in five months. Does that mean nothing?"

"What nonsense are you talking about? If I do not see his body, then I will not believe that he is dead," Christine looked ready to stamp her foot, "Anyway, this has nothing to do with that."

That was a lie if I had ever heard one. She was the one acting suspicious.

"I just don't want anyone to know about it yet. Can't you understand?"

I didn't, and on this topic, I would not lie to her. "No, I don't understand. You were so excited when I got the ring for you, and an engagement is hardly something any girl I've ever known hides."

"I'm not just any girl, Raoul."

"Yes, I know." This argument was actually old. Christine refused to wear her ring, and it seemed not just sometimes, but at anytime. It was painful. It was also one of the main reasons I began to doubt her love for me. I began to doubt who she really was. I thought she would be happy. She had asked for my love on that roof and I had been more than willing to give it to her. She did not seem to reciprocate the feeling though. She was holding back in more ways than I could really fully comprehend. It seemed ever since the engagement, we had actually been moving further and further apart. I had thought it would bring us closer. I thought that we would become inseparable. It was true, I visited her enough. Nothing ever came of it, and all we were now were old friends who had just caught up on the many years we'd been separated. "You aren't any girl. You're my fiancé and I want everyone to know of it."

"I can't do that," Christine adamantly stated. She shook her head. "Meg and I were talking about it, and she suggested something that's perfect."

I looked at her unmoved. She was just buying time. I didn't know why I was so annoyed with her not wearing the ring. I wanted to break off the engagement anyway, and this was the perfect situation to do so without scandal. It just seemed as though she was using me. I thought I had been the one using her, but she somehow had been using me. I did not know to what end, but it was clear as day to me that she was holding back.

"She said that I should just wear it around my neck. I'll still be wearing it, but it will be…"

"… less obvious," I finished her sentence. Yes, less obvious. In other words, she wanted to be able to hide it.

"So," she said a little more excited now that she could tell I was not going to argue with her anymore, "do you think it's a good idea?"

I no longer cared, but I forced myself to look like I did. "Yes. I don't mind at all, Christine." I sat back down because arguing with her was tiring.

"Oh, Raoul," she practically sang, "You don't know how excited I really am to marry you."

Yeah, not as excited as you were about the masquerade and a new dress though. I had wanted to say aloud, but the sarcasm in mind rarely had a chance to come out. It was one of the things that I had to keep suppressed. It was one among many.

"I will find a necklace to place it around."

I thought to offer to buy her one, but I did not even bother. She was staring off into space again. I knew she would glance at me to make certain I was paying attention, but she did not need much to chatter away.

"We will have such a great time. You and I married. We'll travel the world…"

I forced myself to look attentive and to nod when it sounded as though she expected a response.

"We'll have great adventures like we talked about as children."

My smile was fading and I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be excited.

"… and we'll have many kids. We'll take them to the beach and tell them stories of what we used to do as children."

Children. I had not thought of that. Would I be good enough to be father? I was not able to take care of myself. How would I ever be able to care for another life?

"We shall go to parties for the elite. I will sing sometimes though of course. I could not stay away from music for very long…"

More roles.

"… I couldn't stay on stage of course since being a Vicomtess would disallow it."

I was starting to feel sick. She would give up her dream of being a prima donna to become a Vicomtess?

"Oh, I'll have to have some sort of training of course so that I won't disgrace you…"

She was thinking about propriety? Somehow that was ironic in my mind. I could hear Philippe's words in my head. 'She will always be a lowly chorus girl.' It was disgusting that I was thinking of that.

"You needn't worry about things like that," I finally spoke up. I couldn't let her think that the title was important because in my life it was nothing but a role that had led to other roles. It was not who I was, and I no longer wanted to be defined by just that.

"No," Christine turned to face me, "I can't wait to become a Vicomtess. It'll be perfect."

I was definitely going to be sick.

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End ch03

word count: 5,095

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

So that's poor Raoul's chapter. I'll see you again soon hopefully!