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): Some bad language, nothing too bad. +

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: You guys are crazy fast in your reviews… that's both a good and bad thing. It makes me kinda feel bad that I can't update faster, but on the bright side, it does make me want to write more! So in conclusion, fast reviewers are awesome!

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Unmasking the Chains

Chapter 05

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Raoul's POV

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Last time:

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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The room was suffocating. Christine was still talking. It was closing in on me, and all I could hear were Christine's words. 'It'll be perfect.' What will be perfect? Would it be perfect that she would become a Vicomtess? Would it be perfect now that I was starting to see how much she loved to play these roles? Would it be perfect that I would have to play alongside of her? Would it be perfect that we would be stuck in a marriage without love?

Wait. I love her. I was certain that I loved her. Just… not enough. Not in the way I should. Not in the way that meant the marriage would work out. Not in the way that ensured it would not become another chain. Nothing would be perfect. Not if we kept walking this path. Christine would brush aside any of my feelings and I would act like it did not matter. It did matter. I mattered and all my life I had been pushing myself aside. I could not walk that path. Not anymore.

I stared at her not really hearing her words. They did not matter. She was looking at the mirror again. I was not quite sure if that's where her eyes were actually looking, but she was not looking at me. That was for certain.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I quickly stood up and pretending to look at the clock, I hastily said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Christine. I hadn't realized how much time had passed. I have a meeting."

It was 9:22 am, and I hoped to God see did not ask why I had a meeting so early in the morning.

Christine looked at me oddly, but nodded.

I took her hand and kissed it. Making sure that I was grinning, I looked up at her and added, "I'm sure you have a lot more planning to do for the masquerade. I wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun."

The sick feeling in my stomach had yet to go away. Instead, it worsened. It tugged at me, and I wondered if I was going to throw up on her.

Christine laughed and said, "It's okay. I have to go meet up Meg and the others soon, too. Have fun in your meeting."

I nodded quickly, bowed, and practically ran out of the room. I hoped it did not look like I was running away, even though I was. At least, Christine did not make a comment on it.

The moment I was out of the room, I felt better. My head felt clearer, but my stomach still ached a bit. I did not know what exactly had happened in the room, but hearing Christine talk about the future had just been overwhelming. Just thinking about it was making me sick. I could not believe that I had reacted to what she was saying so badly.

I was always looking to the future though. Wasn't I? I wanted to move away from my past as well as the present. The future should not scare me so. It normally did not. It was normal for me to think about my future. When everything in the present and past were so bad, I did not have much alternative but to hope that the future would be better. I loved to think about the many possibilities that the future could hold for me. Many of them involved moving away from Paris and going back to the cottage by the ocean. I would leave my title, my family, society, everything behind. I would be free. It was almost sad how simple my desire was, and how easy to achieve it could seem. There was nothing complicated about running away, was there? I could do it, but… but, I could not. Not in reality. Reality was my chains. It kept me in my place, and nothing else mattered. I would remain chained.

I snapped myself out of my doubts. They were pointless. The future was not set in stone, and I would be free of my chains. The future was something that would only hold hope for me.

It was only when Christine started to talk about it. When she started to talk about the life that we would have together, my body physically rebelled at the idea. I knew for certain that I could not marry her now. If I wanted to throw up at the thought of our future together, I did not want to see what happened if we actually made it to the altar. Philippe and mother would have a fit if I threw up on the priest. It would cause a larger scandal than the actual marriage.

It amused me, but my stomach felt ill again.

I should break it off. I needed to.

I turned to face the door, but decided right now was not the best of times. In fact, I realized that I should not have just been standing outside of her door. I was supposed to be having a meeting, and if Christine caught me in my lie, it would be difficult to explain. I couldn't just tell her that her talk of the future made me ill. I could not tell her that I was having my doubts, and I was secretly glad she did not want to wear the engagement ring because it would make it that much easier to break it off.

I hurriedly walked down the corridor. I needed a place to hide, and a way to get there without being caught by Christine or anyone else for that matter. I did not feel like acting a role right now.

I headed towards the roof because I knew that no one went up there, but I stopped myself. That roof had too many memories. I would get stuck in them, and then I would start thinking about Christine and the impending marriage. I would think about promises of love and devotion. What was love and devotion? I could not love Christine. I loved her as a friend once. Not anymore though. I could not love anyone I did not know.

Was that not one of the requirements of love? Didn't I have to know someone well before I could say that I loved them? I did not know Christine. I thought I once did. I thought that she could love me. I thought that she could see who I was and really learn about who I was underneath all these masks. I really thought it would work out.

But she could not. I could not. There was no romantic love between us. I wished her all the happiness in the world, and if I could not provide her true happiness, then I would have to let her go. She did seem happy though. She seemed too happy when she was talking about becoming the Vicomtess. I could not help but wonder if she just wanted the title. I could only now begin to see how much she really loved acting, not only on the stage, but in life as well. It suited her though. She was brilliant on stage, but why did I have such anxiety when I thought that she might be just as good on the stage of life?

She said that she wanted to quit singing. Quit singing? That was ludicrous. Singing was her life. It was a part of who she was. I would never ask her or expect her to give that up. For her to even suggest it, meant that she was either really not as interested in singing as I thought she was or that she could just bury her desires so easily. Neither seemed appealing to me.

If she did not love singing, then I absolutely did not know who she was. She had always loved to sing as a child. Her father had always encouraged her and that was when the Angel of Music story had been born. Christine had always dreamed of being a popular singer. I had always thought that the dream was commendable. I had only ever dreamed to be free. It was not something that I could ever actually work towards, so I joined Christine in her endeavors. We would sing together and I would help her practice. She was working towards achieving her dream, and I was happy to be moving forward, too – even if it wasn't for my dream. I had barely moved forward in my dream to be free. I wanted the freedom to want whatever I wanted. Just like Christine had the freedom to want to sing. She did not have her family disapprovingly looking over her shoulder and telling her to change what she wanted. It seemed to be a freedom that was so natural and obvious to me, but no one else around me seemed to agree.

And, if she could bury her desires so easily, then I did not want to know who she was. I was trying to be free from that. I did not want to have to bury my desires, to bury my dreams. If she was just another one of those people, then I did not care about her at all. She was just another oppressor. Once you bury one dream, all the others eventually shared the same fate. I knew all too well. I had never given up on my hope to be free though. I hid it from my family but I also had to hide it from myself. I would have lost my mind if I had wanted freedom for all my life.

This sudden revival of my desire was turning my life upside down and I did not know what to do next. I was certain I was losing my mind right now. I was torn between a life that was already set for me, and a life where I broke away from everything and was left alone. The problem with the second life was that I did not know if I could break away or even if I did if they would leave me alone. I did not know if they would let me escape. All I knew was that it was impossible to work towards a dream when you hid it so well.

I hoped that Christine did not mean it. She probably thought that it was what I wanted to hear, and she did not want to disappoint me. I would never stifle her, and I wondered if she knew that.

I was now walking aimlessly through the halls. I could not go to the roof because I did not want to encounter those thoughts. I did not see myself going on that rooftop in a long time. In my mind, there was an apprehension attached to thoughts of the roof. But where else could I go? I could not go to my box seat because that was too open. I would easily be spotted by anyone on stage. It was one of the pitfalls of the box seat. Although it had a good view of the stage, when the lights were on, the stage also had a good view of the box.

Maybe though, the Mezzanine seats would be a good place to go. I remembered looking back at the far seats and wondering how people could see anything from them. I could barely see to the last row, and most of the lights had been on at the time. With the lights only on near the stage, no one would even be able to see that far back. It would be a perfect place to hide.

I headed towards the back seating allowing my paranoia to help me get there without anyone spotting me.

I opened the curtain and walked through quickly looking left and right to make sure that no one else was here. I was just about to take a seat, but I stopped in my tracks however, when I saw that I had missed someone in my initial scan. I was not alone.

I was still hovering above the seat as my eyes strained to see who it was. I cursed the heavens when I realized that sitting a few rows in front of me to my left was the Opera Ghost. There was no mistaking it. I had seen a gleam of a porcelain mask and who else would be hiding in the opera house.

I slowly set myself down, hoping that the chair would not make a sound. My legs would not hold me up. I suddenly felt weak, and my heart was racing in my chest. The blood was pounding in my ears and I hoped that I was not making a sound because I could not tell.

What the hell was I going to do? I tried to push myself up to stand and somehow sneak back outside, but my legs would not listen to me. My arms could barely hold me up, and my hands were shaking. I was suddenly so nervous; I did not know what to do. All I could do was sit. It was completely the opposite of what my mind was telling me to do. I desperately wanted to run as fast as possible out of this situation.

I slowly and silently let go of the breath I was holding in. He had yet to notice me, which was odd. Maybe he did notice me and wanted me to leave. It was all the more reason to leave. I willed my legs to listen to me, but they would not budge.

I slouched deeply into the chair and just hoped if he turned around, I would look like a shadow. It would have been even better if I could have just disappeared.

I sat there in worry when I realized there was nothing I could do. I could not get up because it seemed physically impossible right now. I could do nothing but just sit there. I forced myself to relax a bit. The nervousness was the reason I could not move, and maybe if I calmed down, I would be able to leave.

I stared at the man before realizing that maybe he could feel my gaze. I looked away quickly, but I could not help but turn back. My eyes were drawn to him. Maybe it was because he was the only other person around, or maybe it was because I wanted to see when death came.

All I could see was mostly the back of his head but a bit of his profile. He was hunched over something and it looked as though he were writing. I wondered briefly what it was he was doing. The bigger question was, 'if the man was not dead, then why had he disappeared for so long?'

Unless he had something planned. It made sense. The phantom probably knew about our engagement. No matter how much I had denied his existence, some part of me believed in it. The events that had gone on in the opera had definitely not been accidents. The voice that had sounded in Christine's room, the notes, the voice that echoed during Il Muto, the organ music that I sometimes heard when walking in the hallways, they all were not just figments of our imaginations.

I had a weird feeling that he could be everywhere at once though. He always seemed to be. He had probably been on the rooftop when we confessed our love to each other. He probably was there when I asked her to marry me. It had been a small declaration in her room where I merely asked and presented her with a ring.

Now thinking about it, her room was possibly the worst place to be to have a private conversation actually, but there had been no place else. Then when I found out Christine wanted to keep it a secret, I was glad that I had asked her in her room. She might have said no if I had asked her in public.

Wait, then it probably meant that the phantom had been listening to the conversation that I had had with Christine earlier. How embarrassing was that. I was sure the phantom had a kick out of our argument about her not wearing her ring. A fiancé who wanted to keep it a secret was just too hilarious.

I glared even harder at him. But right now, he was just sitting there oblivious to the world and working on something.

Maybe it was just my imagination that made it seem like he was everywhere. He did not seem too dangerous from this vantage point. Then again, the Phantom probably did not know I was here. Otherwise, he probably would have hurt me by now.

At least this gave me some time to just watch him. I always felt like I was being watched in this building, and I was sure he was the reason why. It was disconcerting to say the least, but I was more or less used to eyes watching me. The elitists out in society watch your every move and judge you every step of the way. That was why I understood the worries that Philippe and mother had, but I just no longer cared what other people thought.

He turned his head a bit, and I froze. Instead of looking around like I thought he had been doing, he was just stretching his neck. I could see the porcelain mask and I wondered what he would have been like without his deformity. I had yet to see it for myself, but I wondered if it was as bad as people said it was.

I had heard the stories. I had heard Buquet before he had been murdered, so maybe there had been some truth in his words. I wondered what he really looked like though. I had yet to actually see him fully. Always just a glimpse here and a sound there, but there was never anything substantial. The man really was a phantom.

The thought of fighting him to end it all came to my mind, but if I could not stand, I did not think I would be able to attack anyone. It would be the perfect opportunity to win my freedom. The Phantom did not realize I was here, and though I did not have a sword on me, I was certain that I could knock him out with something around me. I looked around but there was nothing but the seats. Maybe I could bash his head into the back of one of the seats. I flinched at the thought.

I never really appreciated violence. I could fight, and I could win. It was only because of Philippe and the lessons he made me take in fencing. Additionally, there were those other private lessons. They were the main reason I did not like violence. I did not like to see people get hurt, but in a way, I was desensitized to it all. Blood, especially my own, had no effect on me. There was no shock value to injuries for me. I just never wanted my own hands to cause that kind of pain. I never wanted to be like Philippe.

I stared at my hands and could feel my throat constrict. A sudden emotion overwhelmed me. Nothing was particularly sad. I shouldn't have this kind of problem breathing at the thought of injuring someone. I knew where the emotion was coming from though. I had thought that I was like Philippe. Philippe: my father, my brother, my punisher, my healer, and I think he was the only one that knew how much I acted. He simply did not care. I could not be like him. I would not let myself. I prayed to the heavens that I had not mistakenly become my brother. I would never attack someone. I swore that I would only ever defend myself and those that were close to me.

This battle would not win me my freedom though. We did not even have anything to fight about anymore. I did not want Christine, so why would I attack him for her. If he wanted her, he could try to woo her again. Evidently last time, it had not worked, but that did not mean Christine would never say yes to him.

I opened my mouth to get his attention, but shut it just as quickly. It would be stupid to startle him. That was a sure way to get killed. I did not even know what I would say to the man. 'Excuse me, Opera Ghost? I was just watching you and decided to tell you that you and I are no longer rivals for Christine's love and attention. So please don't be angry with me any longer.'

That would be impossible. I would die before I said his name. Still, the man needed to know what I was planning. We were at odds right now, and I hoped it would alleviate some of the tension I felt whenever I walked into the opera house if the Opera Ghost knew we could coexist peacefully. Maybe even then, I could even talk to him civilly.

It was intriguing and it was exciting. Sadly enough, I was thoroughly caught up in the stories about him, and I would have been an avid fan actually, since I agreed with the whole Carlotta sucks at singing idea, if I had not been the patron and if he had not been insulting me. The part inside of me which rebelled against everything that was condoned by society, a part that was buried very deep within me, was jealous that someone could live outside of society. I was mesmerized by his voice, but more because of the way he lived his life by his own rules.

That was unheard of. Rules were daily facets of my life, and as far as I could tell, they made society function. It would be nice though, to experience a day without rules. It probably would not be as exciting as I thought it was because I did not really know what I would do if there were no rules. Maybe there were a few things I would do like leave Paris, or maybe go horseback riding and disappear for a while without even once thinking of propriety. That would be nice.

The phantom would probably call me an idiot for thinking these thoughts because he seemed to not think too highly about me, if first statements meant anything. The more I thought about his situation the more it seemed lonely to me. He was only one person. I would probably be lonely if the positions were switched. That was probably why he kidnapped Christine. He wanted someone to talk to. Christine was the only one who he had spoken to from what I heard. She had a way of making things seem better than they really were. It was as though she knew what words you wanted to hear. She could make you forget for just a moment. She could make loneliness seem like a distant memory. I was lonely right now though. She could no longer provide that illusion for me and I had lost every hope of finding someone better, so I guess it would not be that much of a change if we were to switch places.

That was the contradiction of society. Society provided a large group of people with whom you could interact, but at the same time, they meant nothing. I felt more alone around people than by myself. It was a relief for me to be alone most of the time, and as I was watching the phantom, I imagined in my head that we weren't rivals and that I could ask him all about what life without rules was like.

My brother had always called me childish. I hid the side from him, from everyone actually. I loved excitement and adventure. It was the child in me who believed in dragons and knights. It was the innocence that somehow had not been suffocated by the tightening chains on my psyche. Imagination and hope were the only relief in my life. I could not bear to lose them completely. I was losing hope. It was slowly becoming overrun by my doubts. I hadn't used my imagination in a while because reality seemed to press me for my attention. Here in the semi darkness though, it felt good to get lost in thoughts and imaginings that were harmless. The repercussions of my daydreaming could not hurt me like those choices I made in reality. I could imagine all I wanted.

Maybe I empathized with him too much. Maybe I wanted him to like me, because I think I could like him. I didn't actually know why I wanted to be on good terms with him, but I just did. Maybe I was becoming too desperate. I just wanted to talk to someone who understood. I knew he would understand and I wanted to know what he thought. He probably thought little of me though.

I had never really cared what other people thought about me, which is a little misleading because they did not know anything about me to start with. I did not care because I made sure that they saw what they wanted to see. If they thought that I was a spoilt Vicomte, then that was good because that was who I was portraying. It meant that I was still okay. It meant that nobody could get close enough to see how much I depended on my family's and society's opinions of me. I could not be anything else but what they wanted to see.

With the Opera Ghost though, I felt more fake than ever. Here was a person who did not have to… well, that train of thought had been incredibly stupid. I was thinking that he did not have to hide behind masks. The irony of it all. Maybe we did have too much in common. His mask was just more visible than my own. I wondered if it was easier to hide behind a mask. He did not have to worry about people being able to see all of his expressions. He did not have to worry about the scrutiny that checked if you looked truly happy or sad or impressed. It was all an elaborate act and I had to be good in order to survive. He did not have to let anyone see him though.

How odd would that be to be friends with my current rival? It was not like we had that much in difference. The only reasons we were rivals was because we wanted the same thing. Maybe he would not hate me so, if he knew that I did not want Christine any longer. Not that it would matter because I doubted that he would believe me.

The thought dawned on me that we were incredibly similar. Maybe I had found someone who could understand me. If I could get past all the boundaries set between us, then maybe we could get along. It seemed as though I could understand him all too well actually. His actions, his motives, his very being seemed familiar to me.

Our lives were comparable. I did not know what it was like to have a physical deformity, but I knew what it was like to have your family shun you. I understood what it was like to be physically beaten. I understood power and submission. I understood hiding behind masks. It was all familiar to me. Too familiar. It was almost frightening. Maybe, just maybe I was willing to let myself lose so that maybe someone could win in our battle. I no longer wanted Christine. That made losing easier, but it had been drilled in me to always win, that failure meant a beating. Losing had never an option. With the Phantom though, I felt as though giving up was letting someone like myself win. I was letting someone like myself win a piece of freedom and it made it easier. It made me want him to win. Because in our struggle it did not appear either of us would be the victor if things kept progressing the way it was.

Sometimes I wondered if Christine was just playing both of us. She could switch between praising and hating the Phantom and it was confusing for me. I wondered if she could just as easily turn on me. It sometimes angered me when she turned like that. It always made me think of her as fickle. She did not know what she really wanted and she was willing to play with our lives just to find out. I was defending him in my head, and at least, now I was beginning to understand why.

I let my mind wander to less likely events. What would have happened if I did tell him and he took it well? I could feel myself smiling. Maybe life would not be so bad because I could have someone to talk to. I could have someone who could see me because we were really reflections of each other.

It was what I wanted. It was what I had dreamed about for most of my life. This little piece of freedom was there in my mind and its clarity was shocking. It seemed so likely. Of course our friendship would not be all rainbows and butterflies. The absurdity of thinking of us talking about the weather and current events made me smile wider. It almost made me laugh. It would have been nice though if we had both been normal. Under different circumstances maybe neither of us would be so troubled. Maybe our lives would not be so terrible. That was hardly the way life ever went though. But, at least in my thoughts neither of us would be lonely.

A sudden though made me frown. Even in my imaginings things go awry. If I told him I was breaking it off with Christine, was there even a likelihood he would talk to me again? Maybe he would even kill me just to make sure I did not get in the way again.

Damn it. I would not let my mind worry about things it does not need to. The whole scenario was implausible, why should I worry about logical details? I shook my head and turned to see what the object of my musings was doing, when I saw empty space. I quickly stood up and screamed when I saw him in front of me. He quickly clamped his hand over my mouth to muffle any sound and pushed me back onto the chair.

I stared up at him with fear. He looked at me pointedly, and I nodded. He slowly removed his hand from my mouth and leaned against the back of a seat and just watched me.

I did not know what to say. It did not seem like he was going to say anything either, so I said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, you're alive."

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End ch05

word count: 5,224

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

Don't be too excited yet, I still need to do Erik's POV before we get to the really good part. :o)