Unmasking the Chains

by Lucifer Rosemaunt

ErikRaoul slash fic. It's dark, it's different, it's the continuation of A Mask for All Occasions. Erik and Raoul make different choices and take different paths that converge to one. Warning: character death. Complete.

17. Chapter 17

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. How to break a man.

Warning(s): violence

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

Story note: shorter chapter but a lot happens to Raoul here.

o.o.o.o

Unmasking the Chains

Chapter 17

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul's POV

o.o.o

Last time:

Madame Giry was kind enough to provide me food and a blanket when night fell. The chair was far from comfortable, but I was still tired so I hardly cared.

In the early hours before the sun rose on the seventh day, I woke suddenly. Nothing seemed amiss though. I listened closely to hear if some sound had woken me, but heard nothing. I looked at Christine's room. The door was ajar. I quickly checked inside and found it to be empty. I heard a carriage leaving and rushed downstairs. I hesitated by the door. The Phantom had said to stay inside the building, but he had also said to watch her. I didn't know what to do.

I heard the carriage moving further. I rushed out. I had to watch over her. Asking the carriage driver where she had been heading, I cursed when I heard the cemetery. Of all the places to go before the sun rose, why would she have chosen to visit her father's grave? And now of all times. I jumped on a horse and made chase.

There went any hope of obtaining the ring. I hoped Erik would not find out.

o.o.o

Walking was one thing, but riding a horse pulled on my wound painfully, and I had been a little too eager in mounting. It mattered not though. I had decided that I had to follow Christine and I would not turn back now. I could not deny that I had a bad feeling about this. Why would Christine go to the cemetery right now? She must have known that I was following her. She glared at me often enough for me to think so. Maybe that was the reason why she had decided to go so early in the morning. I could understand the feeling of wanting to be alone. I wanted to escape from Philippe like that often.

I chased after the carriage but it moved surprisingly fast, and the faster I rode the more in pain I was. I had to slow down for the sake of my wounds. Nothing bad would happen to Christine for just a little bit. I could very well just be paranoid. However, when I slowed down, I finally realized that it was chilly. I had not put on a coat in my hurry. My adrenaline had been high so I had not realized how cold it had been. My thoughts had been elsewhere. I had been so conflicted; I had thought of nothing else. Now, I was freezing. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and rubbed my arms. It was none too brilliant to go out dressed as I was in such weather, but I needed to be out here.

I was still torn about my decision though. I had decided, but I wish I had not needed to. Erik would hate me now. That was the last thing I wanted, but Christine was still a friend, right? I could not shake off the feeling that something terribly bad was going to happen. Should I care though? Christine did not even consider me a friend. I was certain she hated me actually. I had broken off the engagement of which she had been so eager. She had wanted so badly to be a Vicomtess. In fact, she had wanted to be a Vicomtess more than she had wanted to be my wife. She had not even loved me. At least, that was what it seemed to me. I could be wrong since she looked rather hurt when I broke the engagement. She had not seemed to have any problems getting back into the spirit of the masquerade though. I could not lie to her any longer anyway. She had never really seen me, and I doubted that she ever wanted to.

Why did I still care for her? I should not. Nothing in our past could erase what she was like in the present. If I hated her, would I not be just like Philippe then? Philippe hated a lot of people. He hurt a lot of people. I could neither hate nor hurt anyone. Yet, I knew that I should not care for Christine. If I thought about it, she was not a very nice person. She had been using me and would have gone on using me had I not broken it off. I did not regret breaking off the engagement with her. However, it was easier to only see what I wanted in her. It was easier to think of her kindly. It was easier to pretend other people cared and were better than they actually were. It was easy to imagine that they truly meant well, that they truly cared for me, that they truly wanted me. I needed to stop that. I needed to stop deluding myself. Not only did she never care for me, but she was also going to take Erik away from me. In a choice between Christine and Erik, I would choose Erik without ever once having a single regret.

I had been thinking of him constantly. He may not want me, but it did not diminish the fact that I wanted him rather desperately. I had finally found the one who knew all my secrets. I had not needed to play a role around him. I had been myself, or as much of myself as I could have been. I had been searching all my life for that one person, and I finally found him. I found him, so how could I not want to be with him.

It had hurt to think that we would never be anything more, but maybe I had been too hasty to ask for our separation. Maybe I should not have been so selfish. I should not have wanted more. I should have been happy to be around him at all. He had cared for my wounds and had shown no signs of wanting me to leave. He had not shown any signs that he wanted me to stay either. He told me to leave because I had asked him. Had I not been so stupid I would have been with him still. If I had stopped being so selfish, we could have still been together.

It was easy to say it now, but I remembered how much it had hurt to know that it had only been temporary. I remembered how much it hurt to see him everyday and think to myself Christine would have this. She would wake up to him every morning and I would wake up alone. I remembered the wistfulness with which I experienced it all because though I felt joy, I could not hope for anything more. I could not forget. It was easy to say what I could have changed. It was easy to guess what could have happened because I could not be disappointed if I were wrong. It would never happen, but the thought of a better path somehow soothed me. It made life a little easier when I could imagine that something better could have happened. I could imagine that life was not so cruel. It was simply some bad decisions I had made. I did not know why, but the thought that the hardships I faced were only due to my own faults made moving forward a little less painful. It was odd and probably the contrary of what most people thought, but at least I could believe that I had some control over my life. I could believe that I was actively making choices and not that some cruel hand of fate or Philippe was controlling me. I could hope that there was something better if I just learned how to become a better person. If I could just learn to make better decisions, life would be kinder to me. Things would work out.

I was hurting now because of the decisions I had made. I left Erik willingly. Had I been stronger, had I been better, had I made better decisions, we would still be together. I believed that. Now, I was actively making a decision to act contrary to him once more. I was chasing after Christine. I had left the opera house even though he had told me not to. I was not sure if I had done so to be closer or further from him. By chasing after Christine, I was actively disobeying him. It meant that he would either have to deal with me more or he would hurt or kill me. I was not sure which one was better.

I logically knew which one was better. I just did not want the choices to be limited to such bleak options. I had chosen to chase after Christine over staying in the opera house despite my fear of Philippe. I did not want to be under his control anymore. I did not want to be chained in the cellar ever again. I wanted to get the ring back so I could avoid all of that. However, I had realized that I would suffer through it all again, if it meant that I could find a reason to be involved with Erik. I would sabotage every opportunity to get the ring if it meant I could still chase him and he would still acknowledge me. It was pathetic really.

I wanted him to be happy. It was why I had been willing to let him have Christine. Now, I knew I wanted him but I only wanted him to be happy with me. Fine, call me selfish. I could not seem to stop being selfish. Being selfish had driven him away, but now I hoped that it would bring us together. I could not bring myself to not want him. I did not want to stop.

I wanted him. It was a simple fact. I had to move forward. I had to make better choices. I wanted us to be together, but what could I do? Was it enough that I wanted him? Maybe with time he would learn to accept my presence. I needed time though. Time I did not have if Christine were to get to him tonight.

Finally reaching the cemetery, I pushed my thoughts down. I would worry about such things later. I first had to find her.

I dismounted at the gate by the now empty carriage and walked into the dark cemetery. I had no idea where the Daae mausoleum was. I picked up speed, rushing past graves anyway. I did not like it here. It was foreboding and the visibility was so low I could not see more than a few feet in front of me. The cemetery was so large. So many deaths around me. I wondered when I would be lost to the world. When would I become just a name on a gravestone? Would anyone come and visit my grave? I knew my mother would visit me. I doubted that Philippe would. I hoped that Erik would but he really had no reason to. I hoped Christine would, just for the sake of remembering times that had been better.

The scary part was when I began to wonder if I were alive at all. Raoul did not exist in anyone's mind but my own. Existence is acknowledgement. Not acknowledgement from one person though, but from the general consensus. Could I be alive if no one was there to acknowledge me?

I was shivering and having thoughts of making my own grave right now. I could not stay here any longer. I needed to find Christine, and I needed to find her now. Wandering aimlessly in the fog, I was about to lose hope of ever finding her when I heard a voice. Erik. Of course, I would abandon my search for Christine if Erik were around. I moved towards the voice and from the distance, I could barely make out his figure on the mausoleum, but I could see a second figure as well. From so far away though, all I could see were blurry shapes.

He was calling to who I was certain had to be Christine. Whom else would he be calling? Upon approaching, I saw her. She looked to be in a daze, which I thought odd. I knew that she did not believe that he was her father. She did not think him to be an angel either. She had said as much. She admitted herself that he was just a man. Moreover, he had been her tutor. She could recognize his voice, but as I listened longer, I began to lose myself to his voice. It was hypnotic. It was entrancing. I forgot why I had come here in the first place. I knew that it had been something important, but it no longer seemed to matter. All I knew was that I had to get to that voice. It was where I belonged. It was calling to me and I moved forward to answer its call. All I could think was that this was Erik. Erik was calling to me.

I moved closer and Christine became clearer. She was standing in front of her family mausoleum also walking closer to Erik.

On impulse, I called out to her, "Christine!"

Erik stopped singing and I came to my senses. I had just revealed myself to him, but I had also ruined whatever plan he had been putting into effect to get Christine. I was in so much trouble. I should not have interfered, but that wave of jealousy had hit me rather unexpectedly.

I had never thought myself to be a jealous person. Then again, I had never really cared for anyone this much. I had been jealous with Christine for a while, but that had been rather short-lived. That jealousy had been replaced by desperation. I had tried to hold onto her too long. I had tried to delude myself, but that had ended. I had resolved to stop doing so. However, seeing Christine going to him struck something in me. It was a new emotion. I felt possessive. I felt as though Erik belonged to me. I knew that I never wanted to see her with him.

I looked around worriedly. Erik had disappeared. Christine was looking at me rather annoyed. I winced. My desires though had nothing to do with reality. Erik wanted her. I had given him permission. She had probably wanted to go to him as well. What was I doing? I wanted him to be happy, and he would not be with me. They wanted each other and I was only standing in the way. I had only ever been in the way.

I rushed to Christine anyway. "Are you okay?" I asked concernedly. There may be a slight chance she had not wanted to go to him.

She glared at me. I was wrong again. "What do you think you're doing?"

I looked at her helplessly. I offered rather hesitantly, "That wasn't your father."

She looked exasperated, "You have no claim on me. Leave me be."

"I-," What could I possibly say, "I'm sorry."

She was about to respond when she suddenly screamed. I did not have time to react because I was grabbed from behind and dragged away. Suddenly Christine was gone and the cemetery was rushing past me. A cloak swirled around me and a leather-clad hand was clasped over my mouth.

I did not struggle. I worried about my wounds. I worried more about this meeting. I had done so many things wrong this very morning. I did not think there was any way to explain myself.

I was carried a good distance before both of us fell against a headstone. I was wrapped in his cloak and had been pushed against his arm. There was nowhere to go. There was the headstone behind me and a warm solid body in front of me. I was in a half embrace that could have been regarded as a rather warm cage. A small part of me had enough time to be surprised that he had not once jarred any of my wounds at all. It had probably been just luck though. My eyes adjusted to the dimness and I finally saw Erik for the first time in a week. I did the only thing that seemed appropriate and smiled at him. I had wanted to see him and now here he was before me. It was not quite how I imagined it since he looked rather angry, but I was not very picky.

I waited for him to release me, but instead he remained leaning on me. I was glad though since this was the first time since I had left the opera house that I was beginning to feel warm. I was getting feeling back into my limbs. I looked at him appreciatively hoping to convey my thanks. However, I realized that he probably thought that I was going to try to run away if he let go. I had to stop deluding myself into reading signs that were not there. I was thankful though that he was not putting excess pressure on my wound or my back. Actually, he could have been, but I was rather distracted by the fact that he was touching me at all.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered harshly, anger evident in his voice.

"Well," I tried to reason, "I followed Christine."

He opened his mouth to retort when he must have realized he had told me to follow her. Instead, he said, "You were to stay within the opera house."

I looked away ashamed. He sounded disappointed with me and I hated it. He probably thought I would finally be out of his way, but I had only ruined it by leaving the opera house when there had only been one day left.

I shrugged. It was done. I could not do anything about it, "I'm sorry." I could not meet his eyes, "Something felt wrong about her disappearance."

He stood there staring at me, and I wondered if he was going to kill me. I would definitely be out of his way completely if he did that. I sighed; maybe it would be better if he did.

I had to stop these mood swings. I had come here resolved to do two things: retrieve Christine and retrieve Erik. The first one had been the obvious reason. The second one I had impulsively decided when I had heard him singing. I did not know if I had any right to retrieve him. I had not even known if he would be here, but where there was Christine, there would be Erik. That thought hurt. Thinking it like that, I realized how useless my effort really was. Erik wanted Christine. He had always wanted Christine.

I would have to be content with my imagination. I could believe that Erik would have loved me if Christine had never come between us. I could believe that Erik had focused on Christine for so long that he could not recognize that I was the person with whom he belonged. I could not act on it, but there was nothing to the contrary that could make me stop believing it.

Without saying another word, he tugged me forward and half carried me back towards where I assumed Christine to be. The way he was holding me almost ensured that I would not feel the cold at all. It was as though he were sharing his body's heat with me. I blushed at the thought, but knew that to be a construct of my imagination as well. Why would he do that?

He stopped in front of the Daae mausoleum and released me so that we stood face to face.

"Take her back in the carriage," he ordered. I could not read him at all. He gave no indication if he was angry or not. So, I nodded but hoped that we would be able to negotiate about the ring. Maybe we could meet some other time.

His next words shattered that hope, "The deal has ended. You have failed."

I looked at him sadly when Erik suddenly swung his cloak behind me and roughly pushed me away. I fell head over feet, tumbling until a headstone stopped me some distance away. I could not breathe and my head was still spinning. My back and my abdomen throbbed painfully. What the hell? Why had he done that? I pulled the cloak that had caught on my arm around me and stumbled to my feet. I could not see anyone. I looked through the mist searching for him. It was then that I heard the clash of swords. Searching desperately, I raced towards the sounds.

At first, I could not tell with whom Erik was fighting. Then I heard them yelling. I could not quite hear the words, but I knew who it was. I wanted to interfere but I had no weapon. Either way, I did not know for whom to fight. Erik or Philippe. I wanted to help Erik but the repercussions of doing so would be harsh. I did not actually think either needed my help.

I wondered what Philippe was doing here and how he found us. He must have hired someone to follow me so that he could keep track of where I was. It was something Philippe would do. Why was he attacking Erik though? I was certain that he had heard stories of the opera ghost. Who had not? Then I remembered that Madame Giry mentioned telling Philippe about my kidnapping. He would know all about the Phantom and how the Opera Populaire had been terrorized by him all these years. Now that he was taking over as patron, it was without a doubt the reason why he was trying to kill Erik now. Philippe liked opposition, but only so he could destroy someone.

I stayed low to the ground hoping the cloak would provide cover. I crawled closer and hid behind a headstone wondering what I should do. I wondered where Christine was. I had better follow what Erik told me to do and take her away. It was too dangerous.

Not seeing her, I decided to move closer to the battle. I wanted to see Erik one more time. I wanted to make sure that he would be okay. I had seen Philippe fight and he rarely played fair. However, Erik was not known to fight fair either. Maybe he would be just fine. I came close enough so that I could finally make out the words of their conversation as they fought. Philippe was eluding Erik keeping at least a few graves between them.

"Raoul is my pawn," I heard Philippe state. My chest suddenly hurt. I sat down and looked away from the fight. It felt as though I had been dealt a blow. I was a pawn. I had always felt like one, but hearing it from my brother was so much worse. At least when I thought it, I could always hope that it was just my imagination. It was not my imagination though. I was really just a pawn to him. I huddled against the headstone and pulled the cloak tighter around me. Philippe continued, and I felt as though he were physically disciplining me once more, "I trained him. I gave him his life. I will be the only one to take it away."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I felt sick suddenly. I had always hoped that somewhere deep inside, Philippe thought of me as his little brother. I had hoped that he cared for me in some way. I had been naïve to think that he had only been bad at expressing his true emotions. He had in fact been able to express himself rather easily. I had thought he had been stuck in his own roles. I thought there had been a Philippe underneath it all that had wanted to protect me. I pulled my knees closer to my chest. It hurt so much.

I smiled sadly to myself. I had thought Philippe could only hurt me physically. So, why did this hurt so much? I had to concentrate though. This was not his fault. He had never given me any indication of loving me. It was my fault. I could move on from this. I had to move on from this. It actually changed nothing. I would still be afraid of Philippe. I would still consider Philippe to be my brother. The only thing that was different was that stupid false hope I had let myself have. I would no longer believe that Philippe would one day treat me nicely. I understood now that it was stupid to hope for things like that. It was okay though. I would survive. I would move on. If I kept repeating these thoughts, I would hopefully eventually believe them. I would not expect anything from him ever again. I would in fact prove him wrong when he thought of me as a mere pawn. I had other people to live for besides him.

I had Erik. I had my thoughts about him. I had opportunities to interact with him even if he was with Christine. I was still involved with the Opera Populaire; for who knew how long, but I could still visit. I even had Christine in a way. We had betrayed each other rather equally, and since I could not bring myself to hate her, I considered her closer to me than anyone else. I had my mother. I had to care for her. I had to act as the buffer between her and Philippe's anger. I had reasons to keep going. I had reasons to push forward and become a better person. Philippe could not destroy me completely.

I steeled myself before turning around to watch them fight again. Erik suddenly closed the distance between them. I wondered from where that burst of speed had come. Had he been holding back? Their swords clashed and seemed suspended in motion. Erik grabbed the hilt of Philippe's sword the same time Philippe grabbed his. They stared at each other in pure hatred. It was incredible to see. They had barely known each other, yet they could hate each other so much. I wondered what that was like. I could never find it in me to hate anyone. I could not even find it in me to hate Philippe. They had so much passion while I had so little. I had always known that Erik had passion. Anyone could tell from the music he played and composed. I was surprised that Philippe had it though. His life was apparently only that of the role of Comte. How could he have passion? Yet, he did. He was filled with some energy that I seemed to lack. I was slowly losing what energy I did have. These roles only drained me. How could it be that Philippe had so much in him when I felt as though I barely had anything?

I heard Philippe growl, "You think you can win?"

It was just like Philippe to be that cocky. I hoped that Erik would win. I still could not hope for Philippe to die, but I hoped he would lose this battle. It seemed to be a stalemate though. Their eyes were locked just as their swords.

Erik growled back, "Raoul is no longer your pawn." I mentally cheered. The idea of being free seemed closer when I had Erik fighting for me. A kick to Philippe's stomach had him flying backwards. I would be free of him. I almost could not believe it. Erik's next words however made me realize that I should not believe it. "He's mine."

The joy I had felt disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. So, it was true. I could not believe I had been so foolish to hope again. Again. I had been naïve again. I had wanted Erik to want me. I had wanted Erik to protect me. What was I thinking? Erik was only fighting to free me from Philippe's grasp so that I could be in his own. I was easier to control than Philippe that was certain. He did not want Philippe to run his opera house.

I knew that in some way I could see this beneficially. At least, it meant that Erik wanted me. After Philippe's betrayal, I could not so blatantly ignore what Erik was obviously saying. I was a pawn to him as well. I stared blankly at them while this thought settled in my mind. Then, my chest began to hurt. I grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it forward. I could not breathe. It was suddenly too hot. Gasping for air, I felt as though I were suffocating. I fell onto my hands and knees feeling the weight of a burden I could not see. It was too heavy. I was too weak. I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

I felt sick again. I started to heave. My abdomen contracted spastically. My wound felt as though it were going to rip apart. I thought I was going to throw up. However, nothing came out. Why was I losing whatever composure I had gained? I began to crawl away from the battle. I needed to get away. I needed to get away from all illusions I had made. There had to be some hope though. There had to be something, someone out there for me. I still had my mother. I had to go home to her. I had not seen her in almost two weeks. I was certain she was worried. I still had Christine. Christine was somewhere in this cemetery and she needed my help. I had to take her back to the opera house. I had to bring myself together. I had to find a way to get through this. However, it felt as though my world had just fallen apart. It felt as though everything I had once believed in was gone. That could not be the truth though.

I crawled past graves wishing that resting in peace could be so easy.

Two painful facts of my life had been exposed. The layers of pretty, comforting deceit had been torn away to reveal what I had been trying to keep from myself.

I could bury those lies with the dead. I dragged myself further away and the sounds of their scuffle seemed to fade.

Philippe was no brother of mine. He was simply a slave driver. He treated me poorly because he wanted to. He injured me because he wanted to. He never had any of my interests in mind.

Erik was no love of my life. He was not the person I had hoped to find. Wait, that was not the truth that had been revealed though. I could not convince myself into believing a lie so blatant. The real truth was that though he may be the one I so desperately needed, I was not who he needed. He may know my secrets, but he would only use them to hurt me. When he had banished me from his side, he had used Philippe against me. I should have realized it then, but I had not wanted to. He had been so nice.

I had not once actually thought that finding the person I dreamt of would not turn out the way I had planned. I had been stupid enough to believe that everything would be perfect; that things would just fall in to place. It was obvious that was false. Erik was merely a puppeteer; one that I had trusted and in the short while I had known him, with whom I had fallen completely in love. I had already begun to depend on him.

It was painful to think that he was like Philippe. It seemed apparent now that it was the truth though. I was nothing but a pawn to either of them.

I could not tell how far I had gotten. My limbs felt so weak. My hands were numb from crawling on the snow, but I did not want to stop just yet. I could not even stand up since my stomach heaved sporadically. I could not stop. At least the motion provided some reprieve from my thoughts. At least some part of me could be numb from what was happening.

With Philippe, I had somehow just been able to accept it. I had been able to accept that the delusion I had created was simply false. It had hurt, but there had been other things for which to hope. There had been Erik.

With Erik, it felt as though there was nothing else now. I had to accept that the delusion was false, but what else was there to believe in now? What shred of sanity could I hold onto to survive this life? I did not want to move on when I felt that there was nothing left for me. I could not do it. Life was too painful. It was too cruel. There were others. They paled in comparison to the hope I had felt with him. I had to take care of my mother. She depended on me still. She loved me. I could not let her down. There was Christine. She neither depended on me nor loved me, but I still could not bring myself to let her down. If she needed help, I would help her.

I was a man. I needed to take responsibility for my life. I had to depend only on myself. I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet. Raoul… who was Raoul? I had to decide that now. I had to decide who this Raoul person was that I so hoped existed.

I stopped moving and simply knelt in the snow with my face upturned to the sky. With eyes closed, I focused on just this moment and not what had happened moments before.

Raoul was caring and gentle. He was no pushover though. Raoul would protect everyone, not only those dear to him. He would protect them because the weak needed saviours and he knew how hopeless weakness could be. Those who held a special place in his heart, he would die to protect. Currently only two resided in his heart: his mother who had been devoted to him and Christine whose memory had sustained him for such a long time. He would never hurt anyone because Raoul would never be Philippe. He would listen to his own heart. He would be independent and strong. I was Raoul. I would move on from this and learn to be stronger and more self-reliant. This was who I was. I could not be anyone else. I had to stop lying. I had to stop playing these roles before Raoul vanished.

My breathing had slowed. I felt better. I would be okay. I would live through this simply because I had to. I stood up slowly. I spun around quickly when I heard a scream. It had been Christine. I had not gotten far from the tussle and quickly jumped over graves to reach them. I would protect her. I could not see anyone else be hurt. I did not want to see anyone die. It was who I was.

Christine was on the floor where I assumed she had been pushed.

Philippe was on the floor trying to get his bearings. Evidently Christine had been pushed by Erik. It surprised me to see that Christine had helped Philippe. Erik looked livid. He glared at Christine and then at Philippe. Seeing me just standing there, something flickered across his expression. I could not tell what exactly it had been.

I thought when I looked at him I would see someone else. I thought I would not see the Erik who had taken care of me. I thought I would only see the fact that he had been using me. I thought I would look at him differently, but I did not. He was still Erik. He was still the man I loved. He was still the man that had helped me heal. He had been the man who had taken me away from Philippe and given me a reprieve. Why couldn't my heart understand that it would only be hurt more if I cared for him? I understood it logically. Still, I wanted to go to him and take him away from all of this. I stayed my ground though. No more.

Suddenly he stalked toward Christine and pulled her roughly up. I thought he was going to take her and just leave. It would have been the smart thing to do. He would finally have Christine and Philippe would have been beaten. Instead, he pushed her towards me.

"Take her and go," he ordered.

I caught Christine before she could fall. She steadied herself and then moved behind me in fear. Was she afraid of him? He did seem angry, but she should not have to worry about that. He was in love with her.

I wanted to protest, but could not find a reason to stay. I could not stay for Philippe or Erik. They saw me as nothing but a pawn. As I turned and began to run towards the carriage, Christine in tow, I tried to convince myself that I did not care what happened to either of them. Raoul was a caring person though. I had to save Christine first, and then I would return. I would stop their fight before anyone else got hurt.

I quickly helped Christine up into the carriage. She seemed quite shaken up by the whole ordeal. She probably had not thought that a visit to her father's grave would turn out so horribly. She sat there frozen in fear.

"Take the carriage to the opera house, now," I told her.

She looked at me strangely as if she had not realized I had been the one who had helped her. I took the reins and shoved them into her hands. She looked down at them and nodded absently. I waited until she had the horses moving before getting on my horse and riding back to the fight.

I hoped that no one was dead yet.

I held back when I neared. They were still fighting. Erik was being pushed back. Their swords were clashing viciously and Philippe was aggressively driving Erik back. Erik could not seem to find the advantage to move away from the defensive. I could see what Philippe was planning. He was pushing Erik against the mausoleum. It was large enough to impede much of his maneuverability and once Erik no longer had space to retreat, Philippe would kill him. I doubted it would work though. Erik was strong and in a corner, I believed that he would only get stronger.

I wondered how I was going to break them apart. Did I have any right to do so? They so desperately wanted to hurt each other. I could not understand from where all that enmity had come. I could not understand it at all. Maybe they were too similar.

The longer I watched them fight, the more wrong something felt. Erik was fighting rather awkwardly. His parries were hardly deflecting Philippe's attacks. It was then that I saw the red trail in the snow. I had ignored it completely engrossed in the battle. Erik was bleeding. I could not see where he had been struck, but I could tell that it was going to be quite the nasty wound.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Erik trapped against the wall of the mausoleum. Philippe had somehow gotten Erik's sword and held the blade against his neck to keep him still. Erik was grabbing the blade at his neck so that Philippe would not draw blood. Philippe was by no means left handed, but his grip on the sword and the pressure he was placing on Erik's neck was enough to keep him in place. The sword in Philippe's right hand was pointed towards the ground. Erik would have no way to deflect it. I knew that Philippe was planning to stab him in the heart. He seemed to like skewering people. I had seen him do it before.

I had to stop this now. My heart drove me forward. Kicking my horse, I raced towards them. Philippe whispered some words to him; I was certain he was mocking him before he dealt the final blow. Erik looked away and saw me coming. I wondered when they would realize I was coming towards them. My horse was by no means silent, but Philippe would never think I would do anything to deter him. Erik met my eyes and I was confused at what I saw in them. He looked regretful. He looked like he was apologizing, but why would he look like that to me? I had no time to think about it because the look was gone just as quickly as I had seen it.

I rode at them at full speed and when I was almost atop them, I pulled the reins back abruptly. The horse whinnied loudly and reared up. Philippe and Erik both threw themselves aside to avoid the horse's hooves. It landed forcefully and I grit my teeth in pain. Maybe that had not been the most intelligent way to separate them, but I had been desperate.

That distraction was all the Erik had needed. He had grabbed the sword at his neck and wrenched it free from Philippe's grasp when both fell to the floor. Philippe had rolled aside and lost his sword in the process. It was an arm's reach away though. Erik looked about to strike Philippe when I rode my horse between them. Philippe had quickly grabbed his sword and looked ready to restart the battle.

Both of them yelled at me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I did not reply.

I looked first at Erik to appease my heart and then looked at Philippe. He glared at me and I knew he wanted me to move. Instead, I grabbed Philippe and hoisted him up behind me. I headed towards the opera house so that we could check on Christine.

I left Erik there to find a way home himself. I never looked back once. That would be our last encounter. I no longer cared about the ring. Philippe would have to believe me. I had broken off the engagement. I would deal with Philippe as best as I could. I did not know how exactly I would handle him, but I knew that something had to change. I had changed already just this morning.

Erik would chase after Christine, but at least he would still be alive. The thought of him dying had hurt, and even though I knew Philippe would be enraged, I could not let him kill Erik.

Surprisingly, Philippe was silent. He held onto me as we rode to the Opera Populaire. He asked no questions. He made no accusations. He had not even resisted when I had pulled him onto the horse. I wondered what he was planning. It was always worse when Philippe had time to think about what he wanted to do to me. I would accept whatever punishment he had. I would because I still had people for whom to care.

Arriving at the opera house, the carriage had been parked in front and Christine had yet to enter the building. She sat still as stone in the carriage. It appeared that she was deep in thought. I was about to go to her when Philippe dismounted without a word. He approached Christine unhesitatingly and I wondered what was happening. I knew Philippe and Christine knew each other. I had introduced them so many years ago when we had been staying by the beach. Philippe had to know this was the person to whom I had been engaged. I had never seen them interact before, but when Christine finally noticed him, she seemed to snap out of her stupor in what looked like relief.

Suddenly, she was this very alive, very frightened damsel in distress. She shook like a leaf in the morning chill and she gripped the reins tightly. Her hair had fallen as a curtain around her face. Her eyes were large and her lips quivered slightly. She looked unearthly, pale against her red cloak. Rooted in her spot, she was beautiful in her fear.

I saw it and knew that at one point I would have wanted her. I would have been moved by her very image. Yet, now I felt nothing. I wanted to ease her suffering because it looked as though she was in pain, but nothing more.

That must have been the first time that Erik had manhandled her in such a way. She probably always trusted he would be gentle for her, but she had tried to save Philippe. What reaction could she have expected? She had betrayed Erik in a way. She had betrayed him for Philippe.

I kept coming back to wondering what their relationship with each other was. I was shocked when Philippe lifted himself into the carriage and sat beside her. He hugged her, and I was further shocked when Christine hugged back so ardently.

What kind of relationship did they have? That was not the touch of an acquaintance. She had never looked so comfortable with me. She had hardly let me touch her when we were engaged. When we had touched, I had always felt as though she were thousands of miles away from me. She had never held onto me as though there was no one else in the world. There had always been a mirror.

Philippe had disapproved of my relationship with her yet here he was evidently in the same kind of relationship. I doubted he had proposed, but they looked to be intimate. Christine clung to him desperately.

Maybe I was simply imagining things. Maybe Philippe was simply being supportive seeing a woman in such distress. He had a weakness for pretty women. Christine looked like she needed any shoulder on which to cry. She might have clung to me had I been the one to sit beside her. I did not know which the truth was though. I did not know if there was something more between them.

Philippe was being so gentle. He rubbed her back and whispered soft words in her ear. I could not hear because I had been rooted to my place on the horse the moment Philippe dismounted. I was watching in avid fascination. He looked kind. It only hurt me further to know Philippe had the capacity to care for people but would not bestow the slightest bit of kindness on me. He could care but he simply did not with me.

I simply added it to the list of reasons I should not care for Christine. I still worried for her though. I reminded myself how easily I interpreted actions and motives that were not there. I was being unfair to her. I was being unfair to Philippe too in my assumptions.

Philippe stood up and Christine followed in suit. Jumping off the carriage, Philippe lifted Christine down touching her more than I felt was necessary. He gently placed her down but did not remove his hands from her body. Instead, he pulled her closer.

Sparing a glance at me, she seemed reluctant. Philippe leaned forward and whispered something to her, which calmed her down. I watched, unsure of what was occurring.

When Philippe leaned forward again, it was not to whisper. Instead, he kissed her. He actually kissed her. He captured her lips and pulled her even tighter against him. She had wrapped her arms around him and helped him close the distance between them. Opening his mouth, I saw their tongues twisting against each other and I could not comprehend what was happening. They really were… they were together?

I could not believe it. The proof was kissing in front of me right now though. I could not react though. How was I supposed to react to this new development? Too much was happening in too short a time. It was too much for me. Christine was reciprocating eagerly and I wondered where that enthusiasm had been when we had been together. Then I realized that she had really betrayed Erik. That time in the cemetery had not been because she did not want to see anyone hurt. She had not wanted to see her lover hurt. What about Erik though? I stopped that train of thought. I did not care about Erik. Erik would have to deal with Christine on his own. It was no business of mine. Perhaps that was the reason Erik and Philippe hated each other. Erik probably knew that Philippe was trying to steal Christine away. It made sense now. He was always fighting for Christine.

Philippe ended the kiss with a grin and another whisper. Christine headed into the Opera Populaire and I watched her go silently. Philippe pulled himself behind me and I headed home. He was quiet, for which I was glad. I was trying to sort out my thoughts.

Christine and Philippe.

Christine and Philippe.

I would come to that and my mind would falter. I knew why it faltered though. The next thought would be that Christine and Philippe had kissed. Kissed more passionately than I myself had the opportunity to kiss her. I was certain that Philippe had even groped her in front of me. He was displaying it. He wanted me to know.

Christine and Philippe.

It was as though my mind was stuck.

She betrayed me. Again. Before it had been a mutual betrayal, but this time… this time she had betrayed me with Philippe. She was in a relationship with him. It had been a mere week and a half that I had broken the engagement. Philippe had only been here… wait; he had been here a month already. I forgot about that. I forgot because when I had been in the cellar, Philippe had been running the opera house. Did that mean that even before I broke the engagement off, she had been with Philippe? How long? How long had she been doing this to me?

I wondered if she actually loved him. I wondered if she was simply using him to become a Comte's wife. It was indeed a better title. She had never truly cared for me then. If she had the slightest regard, she would not have kissed my brother in front of my face.

I expected Philippe to hurt me. I expected Philippe to find new ways to hurt me, but I did not know he could do it so well.

I had felt that it had been my duty to protect her. It was the proper thing to do, but she needed no protection. She could fare well by herself. She had Philippe now.

It was because of that sense of duty though that I had not just given up in that cemetery. It would have been so easy. I heard that freezing to death was just like going to sleep. That would not have been so bad. Everything else had been taken away from me. Every illusion that I had made for myself had been shattered. It was not as though I knew them to be illusions. I had truly believed that Philippe had loved me as a brother. I had truly believed that Erik saw me as I was and not just some pawn. I had truly believed that Christine had loved me when she had been my fiancée. I had truly believed they all had been good people. I had believed in them so deeply that it felt as though I had been uprooted when I realized otherwise.

However, my mother's love had to be true. She cared for me. She was my mother. Was that not enough proof? She had to love me. I had to be the good son and protect her from Philippe. I was certain that she would have protected me from him had she known. She was innocent in all of this and I would try my hardest to keep her so. She was the only one left. I would do my best.

However, the ride home was filled only with the thought that Christine had truly betrayed me. She, along with Philippe and Erik, were no longer people with whom I had any expectations. Of all the people in the world I would protect, I would not care for them as I should. They had been the closest ones to me, and they had been the ones to hurt me the most.

It was not until we reached the house and we were inside did the desire to strike back surface. We had dropped the horse off in the stable. Philippe entered the foyer and headed to the living room.

It was like déjà vu. I felt as though it was one month ago but the positions were reversed. I felt as though it was not I that was moving. It was merely a shadow of the past.

The house seemed empty. I followed Philippe silently. He seemed rather pleased with himself. He turned to face me but he never made it fully around. A burst of energy from somewhere exploded within me and I was moving faster than I thought possible. His head whipped back as my fist connected with his jaw. My hair flew into my face and the cape I was still wearing fluttered behind me. I did not know what possessed me but it felt good to feel the impact. It felt good to injure Philippe. A thrill ran through me. Everything felt as though it were moving in slow motion. My senses seemed heightened.

Philippe stumbled backwards, but instead of crashing against a table like I had, he caught himself. He was not as weak as I was. In the haze I was in, I felt no fear. I wanted to hit him again… and again. I wanted to hurt him so much. Maybe I could tie him in the cellar and starve him. I was no longer in control of my body. Something else was driving me to act like this. Some part of me that I feared was exactly like Philippe.

That thought brought me back a little. Unfortunately, Philippe chose then to grab me and throw me against a wall. He threw me as though I were nothing. The wall shuddered and the picture frames shook perilously. I landed on the floor and rolled onto my back. I could not catch my breath. The impact had hurt, but my wounds hurt more. He was on me in a second and I fully came back into myself. What had I done? I could feel no pride in the bruising I saw to be forming on his jaw or the blood that was dripping from his lip. I had been like Philippe. I had lost myself to that same anger and hatred that seemed to burn within him.

"What was that?" He asked calmly.

I replied, "You… you're entangled with her."

There were so many other reasons to have hit him, but my mind was currently fixated on Christine. It was currently stuck in that loop, in that time six months ago when I had still wanted to defend that engagement.

He smiled sweetly before he began to choke me. I grasped at his hands desperately clawing at them to let me go, but he merely held on tighter. I was beginning to feel dizzy. I kicked and I flailed hitting a table in the process. I started to see black spots floating where I knew Philippe's face should have been. My mouth was open but nothing was coming in. I faintly heard something crash and a distant voice when suddenly I could breathe again. Philippe stood up as I turned onto my side. I gasped painfully and began to cough. My throat felt sore and gasping for air only hurt it further.

My eyes were still unfocused and the moisture in them made everything blurry. I still could not get my limbs to move. Slowly, past my laboured breaths I could hear a conversation.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Was that my mother? I knew I could not let her see me like this. Philippe might start to harm her.

Philippe laughed incredulously, "He actually attacked me."

There was silence and I heard footsteps come closer. I thought my mother was going to come to me. However, the footsteps stopped elsewhere. I pushed myself to sit up but failed. Maybe I could make her believe that it had all been for amusement. I did not want her to find out about the beatings Philippe had given me. I had to be stronger.

Philippe continued in the same amused and shocked tone, "He actually hit me. Maybe letting him stay in the opera house was too lenient."

I struggled into a sitting position and leaned heavily against the wall. My mother was bent over near a table picking up shards of what was once a Decatur glass. Philippe stood nearby straightening his clothing. She did not once look over to me in worry.

Hurt, I looked at her pleadingly. I wanted her to see me. She was picking up the glass before she checked on me? I wanted to protect her from Philippe, but now that it had come out, I wanted her to look at me, to really see me. I wanted her to see what I had gone through. I wanted some support. Instead, she stood up briskly and yelled for a maid.

She turned to Philippe and replied as though I were not in the room, "What did I say about breaking things in my house?"

Philippe shrugged and wiped the blood from his lip.

"I let you use the house once to make him behave and you break my lamp, get blood on the carpet," she continued to scold him, "and ruin the cellar. Now, you plan to ruin my glass set?"

I opened my mouth to call out to her, but I did not know what to say. She knew. She had known that I had been the cellar. I had not seen her once. I had not heard her once. I had not let myself hope, but she had known. Why hadn't she come? Why hadn't she saved me?

Philippe looked at the blood on his hand and felt his jaw. He glanced at me disdainfully, "Too much time has passed since I had been here."

I glanced in his direction but could not stand to look at him. I still could not understand. My mother had known?

She finally looked at me, and it was then that I understood completely. She looked at me with the exact expression as Philippe. Two sets of identical emotions directed at me. Two sets of cold eyes that saw me as nothing but a nuisance. Two sets of eyes that looked through me but never at me. I was not her son. I had never been.

It was suddenly cold. I felt disembodied. Where was the pain that I had experienced the other times my illusions had been shattered? There was nothing for me except shock right now.

She looked to Philippe and frowned, "You had been a lot neater when you had given his lessons as a child. You should return to those tactics."

I had heard enough. She had known all along. She had known everything I had gone through and she had never once tried to stop them. She in fact encouraged Philippe to do them once more. Why wasn't there anyone I could count on? Why? I wanted to shout. I wanted to cry, but nothing came out. There was the desire, but no passion. I wanted to but at the same time there was nothing in me to do so.

I could not be here any longer. I unsteadily stood up and staggered out of the room past them. Neither of them moved to stop me. Neither of them acknowledged me. I grabbed on the railing and dragged myself up the stairs to my room.

Everything I believed in had been upturned in one single morning.

Philippe had only ever thought of me as a pawn.

Erik had only used me.

Christine had betrayed me.

My mother had let me suffer.

One by one the people who had mattered to me had been taken from me. Each hope that I had once held had been agonizingly wrenched from my soul.

I dropped onto my bed listlessly. My wounds hurt, but I really could not tell. There was pain. There was sadness. There was betrayal. It was all the same. Physical, mental, emotional. They were all embodied in me.

I felt… I felt as though I were floating. My mind was surprisingly blank. It was empty. I felt empty. Empty and cold. It reminded me of the darkness in my mind. This darkness was different though. It felt heavy. It weighed me down while making me feel as though I weighed nothing at all. I knew what it was like… it was like the ocean. It was like being under all that water yet feeling weightless. Yes, that was what this was like.

I was forgetting something. I did not want to think about anything though. I had been too disappointed. I had been too torn apart, too devastated. I did not have to think about sad things. Why think of sad things when I could just float away?

I had never felt cold in that comforting darkness. It was cold now. My limbs were not listening to me. It was as though I was back in the snow. It was as though I could not swim in that dark ocean. I could only be held suspended in the inky darkness. It was not so bad. I could just sleep. It could be just like in the snow this morning when I had thought to die. All it required was letting go.

Letting go?

That was not difficult now. There was nothing left for me to hold onto. There was nothing left for me to let go. There was only myself. There was only Raoul, but who was Raoul? Raoul was someone I had imagined into being. Raoul was an illusion of my mind. All my illusions had been shattered this morning.

My feeling had been right. This morning had ruined many things for me. It had ruined everything.

The truth was laid bare before me.

There was nothing beneath the illusions. There was no substance to them.

There was nothing beneath the actions. There were no benevolent motives or hidden charities.

There was nothing beneath the roles. There was no one to acknowledge him.

There was no one to acknowledge me.

There was nothing beneath the mask. There was only emptiness.

There were only chains.

There was no one left.

No one.

Everything could be disposed. I would dispose the unnecessary weight. Maybe I would lose the weight that was holding me under the water, under the surface of life. Maybe I would float to the surface.

I was drowning, and now I knew that there was no one out there to save me. I would simply die.

I closed my eyes on the bed and let my body drift for a moment. I reviewed the hopes I had once had. I thought of happiness and hope. I thought of struggles and successes. I thought of things that I would never know again. I now only knew despair so I wrapped myself in those happy memories for just a little while. I let myself float in that cocoon of good memories.

Then…

I let go.

o.o.o.o

End ch17

Word count: 10,542

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

Chapter Review: Word count went down, but a lot happened in this chapter. A lot of bad things happened to Raoul. I feel bad for doing this to him, and yet I still do it.

Man, Raoul's life sucks. Everything has just gone to hell in this chapter for him:o( And we don't find out what happens to him until two chapters later!

I did not so much like the meat of this chapter. Something felt off, but I liked the ending. What do you think?