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.

19. Chapter 19

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. Stupid Vicomte.

Warning(s): nothing bad in this chapter actually.

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Holy crap... that was 5 days of not being able to post! Don't be mad at me. I had it done. --;

Story note: The Raoul we know and love is gone. Whatever shall we do?! If you look on the bright side, at least he's not angsty anymore!

Oh, and I rearranged this part. It did not work the other way around, so I placed the "Twisted in Every way" (i.e. "We have all been blind") portion after the "Wishing you were somehow here again". I was not sure if anyone would notice, but I figured it was best to note it anyway. It won't be a songfic, but you will definitely notice their dialogue to be from that part. I abridged it because I was not even certain that I should add it. We all know the conversation they had, but it needed to be built up, and I figured Raoul's character could be further expounded upon in such a section.

Enjoy

o.o.o.o

Unmasking the Chains

Chapter 19

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul's POV

o.o.o

Last time:

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

I rolled over slowly. My body ached and I blinked to get the sleep out of my eyes, but I realized that it was not sleep. My room was dark, and looking out through my windows, it was dark outside as well. How long had I been asleep?

The better question was: why was I sleeping at all? I remembered having a bad morning. I remembered leaving the opera house to chase after Christine. Then the Opera Ghost had tried to lure her to him. He and Philippe fought and we left. However, I could not remember why I had been so upset. It did not seem like the best way to start the morning, but looking back on it, it was not incredibly bad.

I shook my head and stood up. I stretched languidly and felt my joints pop. My wounds were healing quite nicely and whatever pain flared, I ignored it easily since I was not so weak to be affected by physical injury. It felt too good to be awake. It felt good to have finally slept on a bed. It was not respectable for a Vicomte to sleep on a chair. I could allow it since I had been doing it for the sake of a lady. It was proper for a Vicomte to be chivalrous. However, I could not deny that the best place for a Vicomte to sleep would be in his own bed on his own estate.

On the other hand, it was not proper to have wanted to marry Christine. I still had some allegiance to her since she had been a childhood friend, but whatever had possessed me to think that I should marry her? It made no sense whatsoever when I thought about it now. She was an opera rat. I was a Vicomte. Those two worlds should never mix. They never could. I could see it clearly now.

It felt as though a cloud had been lifted from above my head. It felt as though the past few months had all been experienced in a haze. That was over now. I had wasted too much time with all these dalliances. I had much to do and no time to waste on such insignificant people.

I looked around my room and frowned. It was so messy. I wondered if a maid ever came to clean this room. I would have to find someone later and yell at them. Worse though, I realized that I myself was a mess. I gingerly picked at the clothes I was wearing and could not believe that I was wearing such rags. I went through my closet and frowned at the selection. I had not bought new clothes in a while and all of these were rather out of fashion. Once again, I could not help but wonder what I had been thinking.

I chose the least hideous ensemble and dressed. I stood in front of my mirror and checked my appearance. It was important for a Vicomte to look his best at all times even if he was only going to dinner. I brushed some lint off my shoulder and looked at my overall appearance. There was something wrong. I still looked too… common. I looked too disheveled. Then I realized what it was. I needed to fix my hair. It was all in disarray and looked horrendous.

I fussed with it for a long while until I absolutely had it the way I wanted. It was difficult; nothing seemed right. When I was pleased with my appearance, I headed towards the door to leave.

I cast a cursory glance around the room looking to see if I needed anything else when I saw it. A cloak lay crumpled at the head of my bed. I stared at it in confusion before remembering that it had gotten stuck on me at the cemetery. It was the Opera Ghost's.

I wondered about him. By all accounts, he should be a foe. Yet, he had helped me when I had been injured.

I felt a sudden flash of pain but could not pinpoint from where it had come. It did not feel like it had come from one of my wounds. I shrugged it off as an anomaly and continued my assessment of him.

Simply put, he was a madman. He broke backdrops and killed crew members. He continuously tried to destroy all our best laid business plans. He terrorized our prima donna. He was much too dangerous. He had even kidnapped Christine and had tried to do so again this morning. He caused more trouble than good.

On the other hand, I could not completely ignore his change of character these last few days. He had his moments when his madness seemed to lessen. I could also not forget to repay my debt to him. Vicomtes always repaid their debts.

Then, it was decided. I would return his cloak to him the first opportunity I had. I would warn him that if he tried anything again, I would have to deal with him. It seemed the proper thing to do. I could not just attack him unprovoked when it appeared that he had turned a new leaf. However, if there were any indication that he planned anything, I would have to stop him with force if necessary.

There was still the opera he had ordered us to produce. Don Juan Triumphant, had it not been? I doubted it, but perhaps he simply wanted his opera to be performed without having ulterior motives. I greatly doubted it though. How could he not have something planned? I could allow it for now though. I knew that Christine did not want to perform, so maybe these suspicions would be pointless. Either way though, I knew Philippe would be able to handle anything that the Opera Ghost tried. He was dependable as such… unlike me.

I forgot things too easily. I tried, but I was never good enough. It had been stupid of me to chase after them this morning without my sword. I should have realized that it would have been dangerous. Luckily, Philippe had been there. He was well prepared. I needed to be more like him.

I picked up the cloak and folded it neatly before carrying it beneath my arm. It was probably best to return this tonight. I would see if Philippe was going to the opera house tonight, and I would ask him if I could join him.

I walked through the hallway and downstairs. Turning the corner, it felt surreal. Some part of me remembered that time more than a month ago. I had walked down this hallway not realizing that Philippe had finally come home. Everything had changed the moment he had arrived. Things had changed, but truthfully, things had been changing even before then.

I had taken this walk many times in my life and I wondered why my mind would fixate on that time. Moreover, I had been walking to the breakfast nook then so I wondered why I thought of it now that I was heading towards the dining room. In the end, since I could not pinpoint the reason why I remembered the past, I ignored it.

It should be around dinner time right now, and even if it were not, I would order the servants to get me my meal. They should have already anticipated my needs and had it prepared.

I turned the corner and saw Philippe and my mother sitting down and eating. I bowed at the entrance and greeted them, "Good evening, mother, Philippe. I apologize for my indolence. I do not know what came over me."

Philippe sat at the head of the table with my mother to his right. I took the seat to his left and placed the cloak on the chair beside mine. I noticed that they had barely started their dinner. Fully seated I waited a moment before, snapping at the butler who had not even bothered to move but was staring at me dumbly. "My dinner?" I asked irately. Did I have to do his job for him?

He hastily moved from the wall from where he stood and agitatedly nodded before exiting through the kitchen door. I looked at him oddly. Had our servants always been so lackadaisical? I considered firing him, but I was in a good mood and therefore decided to simply dock his pay. He would thank me.

It took me a moment to realize that Philippe and my mother had not said a word the moment I had entered the room and were staring at me.

I asked with genuine interest, "Whatever's the matter?"

They continued to stare at me. When I realized that they were not going to respond, I informed them, "It's quite rude to stare."

I could not understand why they were acting so strangely.

They shared a look between them, and I rolled my eyes. That was more rude. I was about to comment when the butler returned with my food. He placed it before me with an apology. He poured my wine and then stood at his place by the wall. I ignored him and placed the napkin on my lap. Taking a sip of wine, I looked at Philippe and my mother.

They were still staring. My mother looked rather puzzled. I did not think that she could say anything if she tried. I looked at Philippe and saw that he was not puzzled but rather intrigued. I looked to him for an explanation. He stared at me with a calculative gaze before he seemed pleased.

Philippe looked me in the eyes and said directly, "What happened to you?"

I wanted to roll my eyes. That had been a rather inane question. I obviously thought nothing was wrong with me. They were the ones staring. I tried to make him elaborate. I did not know when he had become so obscure. "Do I have something on my face?" I took my napkin and wiped the edge of my lip.

My mother shook her head.

I tried again and made my confusion known. I was beginning to become annoyed, "What do you mean what happened to me?"

Philippe seemed to like that response. He visibly relaxed and smiled at me rather predatorily. He leaned back in his chair and commented, "You cut your hair."

Was that why they were staring? I ran a hand through my hair. The sensation was odd since I was used to long hair, but I felt relieved to have it short. I had been staring at the mirror and realized that no matter what I did to my hair, I would still be dissatisfied with it. It was not the style. It had been the length. No respectable Vicomte had his hair long, so I had cut my hair. Now, it was now shorter than Philippe's, but it was the style of the day. I wondered if they could even appreciate that fact.

I shrugged and took another sip of wine, "It irked me. A Vicomte should have short hair anyway." I stated simply.

Philippe leaned forward onto the table and holding his chin on his hand, he replied, "Indeed. A Vicomte should."

From the corner of my eye, I saw my mother relax, too. She and Philippe shared another look. I did not bother to be annoyed. They would share looks. I knew them to have a bond with each other that I could never fully comprehend or become a part. They resumed eating and I looked at the food on my plate. It did not look very edible.

My mother commented vaguely, "I do not know why I doubted you."

Philippe smiled arrogantly, "I do not know why either."

I ignored them resolutely and began to eat. After the first bite, I slammed my fork down on the table and glared at the butler who had started at the loud noise. "Out of what receptacle did you pull this food?" I said angrily, "Give me something I will like."

I was a Vicomte. I deserved the best, not this garbage. It was cold and it tasted so bland. One of the other servants rushed to get my plate. I looked at her with disdain. Damn servants. Who did they think they were thinking that I would eat such low class food? I took a sip of the wine. At least this wine was perfect. I would have to visit the cellar and see if we had more of this vintage.

I realized belatedly that Philippe and my mother were staring at me again. I looked at them oddly. I could not understand why they kept looking at me as such. I was about to verbalize this feeling when the servant returned hastily with new food. I was surprised. That had been rather quick. I nodded my approval of her. Trying the food, I realized this was probably the best it would be. The servant hovered uncertainly near me. I gave her a dirty look before dismissing her with a simple wave of my hand.

Philippe looked at me, but spoke to our mother, "And I had worried that Raoul had changed too much in my absence."

I had mostly been ignoring them, but I heard his comment. My mind felt preoccupied. I could not pinpoint why exactly, but my thoughts kept drifting away. I could not focus, and I was disappointed with myself. A Vicomte should be able to not only focus, but make polite conversation at the dinner table. His sentence caught my attention though, "You were speaking of me?"

He looked at me rather challengingly for what reason I could not discern, "Oh, yes. I was telling mother how you hadn't changed much from when we last parted."

My mother agreed, "Indeed you hadn't. I do not so mind this change though."

This change? Why were they speaking of change?

I considered Philippe's statement. It did not seem to be an insult, but I knew that Philippe had a rather sharp tongue, one that I was trying to obtain as well. Instead of responding to their obscure statements, I changed the topic at hand, "Are you planning to go to the opera house tonight?" It was not good to show one's confusion. That was a weakness that could easily be hidden by garnering their attention in another manner. Philippe's lessons ran through my head.

Philippe suddenly perked. I became wary of him. He was a shrewd man and it was necessary for him to be so in order to thrive as the Comte. However, I never felt comfortable when he had that look in his eye.

He replied, "Now that you bring it to my attention, I do need to meet the managers. Do you wish to accompany me?"

"I would," I wondered what he was planning. It was probably something brilliant. He had such incredible ideas.

I spent the rest of the dinner silent and lost in my own thoughts. Philippe spoke only to my mother. I would hear small phrases and I was certain he was talking about me. Though it was rude, he was the Comte and head of the family so I could do nothing about it. He spoke about how my 'change' went better than he had planned. Had I changed? I thought he had told me that I hadn't changed. I tried not to worry about it, but every time he mentioned it, I felt as though I was missing something important. If it were really important though, I would immediately know why, wouldn't I? So, whatever it was, I would remember it when I needed to. Furthermore, I was confident that Philippe would inform me if it were something truly pressing.

I ate my dinner not particularly paying attention to anything else. Since I was not involved in their conversation I focused on trying to remember what happened this past month. Everything seemed to be only a dream. I could not understand my actions much less my emotions. It was not just this past month either but these past few months that I could not understand my motives. I had been myself and yet not. I had not acted like a proper Vicomte, but was there any other way I could act?

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Philippe stood up. He placed his napkin on the table and said, "We are leaving now. I'll be waiting in the carriage outside."

I nodded and hurriedly stood up grabbing the cloak. I bade my mother good bye and she smiled politely back at me. Catching up with him, Philippe looked at the cloak but did not ask me about it. I was certain he knew whose it was so I did not feel it necessary to tell him. Perhaps he already knew what I had planned.

The carriage ride was silent. Words were rarely shared between us. We were rarely ever in the same place actually. It was mostly because as a Vicomte, I had my domain and Philippe, as a Comte, had his own. It was tiresome that he had come home and decided to take over, but he knew what was best. I would retake my position though as soon as I deemed it necessary. I was a Vicomte and I would keep what was rightfully mine even if I had to fight Philippe for it. Technically though, all that I owned was Philippe's. I did not like that prospect. I decided then that I would learn from him as much as I could and then hopefully be able to one day surpass him. I would usurp every position he held, and he would never see it coming.

Arriving at the opera house, Philippe turned to me. I stared at him guilelessly.

"I will meet with the managers first. Get your business done and meet me back in the main hall." He began walking away and left me standing there wondering how he possibly knew that I did have business to attend to. Hopefully, he did not know what I had just decided upon. He was forcing my hand though. He had usurped my position as patron.

Philippe paused and turned back to me, "You still have much to learn before you can even attempt it."

I did not respond but knew that I had been caught. He briskly turned and strode confidently away. Was I so easy to read? How could I surpass him if he knew what I was thinking when I had just barely formed the idea? He knew before I could even fully prepare myself. He was right though. I did have much to learn. I had been failing as the patron. I had let the Opera Ghost run wild. I had let my infatuation with Christine distract me from performing my true duty as the patron of the Opera Populaire. Philippe had every right to take it away from me. That would stop now. I was not the man I had been before.

Looking at the cloak in my arms, I realized I had somewhere to be. I headed towards the only place I knew the Opera Ghost to appear consistently. I walked towards Box 5. The hallways were empty and the opera house was disturbingly quiet. There were no practice sessions being held. Everyone had refused to prepare for Don Juan Triumphant. I did not think it a bright idea, but Philippe was in charge now. I wondered if the Opera Ghost would do anything drastic if his opera were not performed. He seemed to have changed though. Change? That word seemed to linger in my mind. It had come up more times than was normal this evening. Was everyone changing?

As I approached Box 5, I realized that he might not be there. It was not as though there was anything to watch. However, it was the only place I was certain he visited. I could drop it off in Christine's room, but I did not think it proper to invade a woman's space. I entered the box hoping that he would be there, but it was empty. I stood there disappointed. How was I ever going to repay my debt if I could not find him?

Perhaps I could leave him a note. It was not the best way to issue an ultimatum, but a note would do fine. I was certain he would appreciate the irony of it all. I stepped out into the empty hallway. I decided to head back to the managers' office in search for some paper and a writing utensil.

"Raoul."

"Who?" I turned around angrily at the use of my first name. There standing in the once empty hallway was the Opera Ghost. Somewhere my mind supplied a name that seemed to hold some meaning, but I could not determine just what. "Erik."

He looked to be smiling but I could not properly tell.

It seemed wrong when the name came out however. It made me feel uncomfortable. Therefore, I reverted back to what I knew he called himself, "Monsieur OG."

He noticeably frowned this time. He stepped closer and I took a step back in response. He may have treated me kindly a few times, but he had also harmed me as well. His frown deepened. He tilted his head to the side and it felt as though his eyes were trying to bore into my mind. He looked at me so intensely. I felt myself rebel at such an intrusive gaze.

He looked at me oddly before saying, "Raoul?"

My irritation at his familiarity with me was rising, "Please, Monsieur, do not call me as such."

His expression hardened and it was his turn to take a step backwards. "Vicomte."

I offered him a smile and nodded my head. "I would very much appreciate it if you continue to address me properly."

He stood there with an unreadable expression. I thought it a good sign that he was keeping his distance. Perhaps he had truly turned over a new leaf now that he knew he could not beat Philippe.

I held out his cloak to him. "I wanted to return this to you."

He looked at the cloak as though I were offering him poison. "What happened?"

He was the second person to ask that question. What made them think something had happened?

He stayed where he was, but I had the impression that he wanted to move towards me. "You cut your hair," he said with distaste. Faster than I had time to react, he had grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He tugged so harshly that I almost ran into him. I caught myself but ended up standing closer than I would have liked. I struggled rather in vain. Once I stopped struggling though, he released my arm. Apparently, he just wanted me closer.

We were standing close enough that I had to look up to meet his eyes. From this vantage point, his stature and everything about him was rather intimidating, but if he thought he could intimidate a Vicomte so easily, he was going to be surprised. I glared at him and refused to back away. If he wanted us this close, I would show him that he in no way scared me. Such tactics were too simple to be effective.

"You cut your hair," he repeated in something that sounded like disappointment. What was there to be disappointed about? And why did he too fixate on such a small thing as hair? It was only hair, and it was my hair so it was my business to do whatever I chose to do to it.

I shrugged, "If I did?"

He first insulted me by calling me without my title and then he jerked me forward. What point was he trying to make? I was further insulted when he reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. I was not some boy whose hair could be tousled or some animal to be petted. I jerked away from him. "Monsieur." I frowned at him. With his hand suspended in air, he stood frozen. I took a step back. His actions were becoming increasingly odd.

He dropped his arm. "Raoul." He called out to me even though I had not moved very far from him.

I did not respond. I did not know what he was thinking or what he wanted from me. How could I respond?

"Raoul," he called again as though he were pleading with me. Pleading? I could not describe it any other way. The Opera Ghost pleading with me seemed so incongruent with whom he was. He was trying to trick me.

This time I did respond. He should respect my authority, "Monsieur, I told you to desist calling me so familiarly."

He stood there and I could tell he was not pleased at all. "What happened? Did Philippe do this?"

I looked at him in pure confusion. How was my life his business? "The only thing to have happened was your grabbing me."

The Opera Ghost seemed to be deep in thought. I felt a loss for what to do. Of all the things that I expected from the Opera Ghost, this was not one of them. What would Philippe do? Well, he would be a gentleman and return the cloak. He would give his ultimatum and be done with his debt. I figured if Philippe would do as much, then so would I.

"I simply came here to return your cloak." He looked up at me, and I felt myself shift uncomfortably under that gaze. What was it about him that made me squirm? I was stronger than that. A Vicomte should not be so weak. How many times had I heard those words pass through Philippe's mouth?

The only thing that ran through my mind however was that I needed to get away from him. He was my adversary and probably one who could defeat me. It would be intelligent to leave. I would not run though. A Vicomte should not run so shamefully. "To repay my debt to you, I'm offering you this one last chance to prove that you will do no more harm to this opera house or its occupants. If I even sense some indication that you are planning anything or have done anything, I will kill you."

He reached out and it took all my self control not to flinch away. I stood proudly and stared at him. He grabbed the cloak and looked at it. He stepped towards me again and I stood firmly in place.

Was he trying to intimidate me still? His expression did not seem to be angry or menacing. His eyes caught mine and it felt as though I could not move. He stepped even closer and this time I wanted to move but simply could not.

"What do you want?" I managed to say without showing the uncertainty I felt. I was glad that my voice had not wavered.

I did not think he could, but his gaze seemed to intensify. My heart was suddenly beating very loudly in my chest. I felt a nagging sensation in the back of my mind but it stayed so elusive I could not tell what it meant.

I convinced myself that my heart was beating so quickly only because I thought he was going to kill me. Yes, that was the reason. Except… except I did not think he was going to kill me. I did not get that impression at all from his stance or his gaze.

His hand once again grabbed my right arm, but this time the touch was light. He was already so close that he need not pull me anywhere.

"Come with me," he spoke earnestly. He spoke differently. His voice had taken a deeper tone and a softer volume. It reminded me of when he sang. It was almost as though he were singing. It was mesmerizing.

I did not respond because I did not actually hear the words he spoke. I only heard the quality and tenor of his voice. It seemed to reverberate through me. It felt as though this web had been spun around me keeping me immobile and keeping my thoughts fuzzy.

"Come with me," he said again. I had to focus to actually hear the words.

He had said 'Come with me' my mind repeated. The only thing that came to mind in response besides a resounding 'yes' was what fell from my lips, "Where? Why?" I knew that the response I really wanted to say were not those questions. I… the blue of his eyes were so intense… wait. I looked away though I still could not make my body move away. I should not care where he wanted to go. I was forgetting something, something important.

"Raoul," he softly crooned.

I lost my train of thought and I immediately sought his eyes. "Yes," the response was immediate. I had not wanted to respond though. Those blue eyes bore into me. I struggled even though everything was telling me to just give in.

The hand on my arm had begun to stroke it gently, up and down. It was soothing.

"Let me take you away from all this."

It sounded like the perfect idea when he said it. I suddenly wanted to go wherever he wanted to.

"Come with me."

I felt myself nodding. There was something I had to remember. Why was it so hard to think right now?

"Away from this place…"

I could run away with him. It was so enticing. He took a step backwards. I did not know where he was going and even though the hand that held my arm was by no means pulling me, I found myself taking a step with him.

"… away from Paris…"

Yes, Paris was troublesome. He stepped further and it felt as though I were stepping away from myself. I had not wanted to go, but why? The desire to follow him wherever he went was so strong. Just follow him.

"… away from Philippe…"

Philippe? I blinked rapidly at the name. I could get away from Philippe and the pain he dealt out so easily. However, I felt my mind clearing.

I held some animosity towards Philippe, but whatever he had done to me had made me into the person I was today. I had become a better Vicomte for it. All these scars and wounds were there because I was less than what I was supposed to be. I was not a proper Vicomte and I had to be taught a lesson because of my failings. Just as Philippe was a proper Comte, I too had to uphold the Chagny name. I had to maintain our standing in society.

I could not run away. I could not hide from my duty. It was a duty. It was the reason I was alive. Who did he think he was to me that I would even consider running away with him? Why had I even considered it?

"Raoul," he crooned again, but the effect was gone.

I was not Raoul. I was the Vicomte de Chagny.

I stepped away from him. His expression changed to something I could not quite name. He had tried to trick me again. I pulled my arm away from him, but he closed his fingers around it. I tried to forcefully yank it away from his grasp but only managed to wrench my shoulder painfully. I cried out in pain and the Opera Ghost momentarily loosened his hold on my arm. The vice grip returned though. His expression changed to one of frustration. I could read it easily on his expression now.

"Raoul." He said firmly as a warning.

I growled at him, "Vicomte. Do not test me, Monsieur."

He began to drag me away without another word. I tried to dig my heels into the carpet but he was simply too strong. My wounds were making their existence known. I had been able to ignore them so far, but this was too much movement. I tried not to whimper, but I was certain a few had fallen from my lips.

Philippe had been right. I had much to learn. He was too strong for me. I would have to find another way to get to him. Then I remembered this morning. He had been bleeding, but it looked as though he could move without any pain. I wondered briefly how he could do so. There had been much blood. He walked without any problems. The best bet was somewhere on the abdomen. I was loathe to do this to a man whose only fault lay in trying to kidnap the wrong people. It was not an egregious act of misconduct considering his record, and since it was only against me, I found that I could ignore it. I should be able to handle myself and if I could not, then it was my own fault. Since my right hand was currently immobilized I swung my left hand as hard as I could towards his stomach hoping that he would release my arm long enough for me to escape. I connected solidly with his abdomen and he doubled over immediately.

He did not cry out but the hiss of pain that escaped his mouth seemed louder to me than I had expected. He released my arm almost immediately in favour of holding his stomach in pain. I turned and ran away from him. I looked over my shoulder expecting him to be following me, but the last I saw of him was his form curled up on the floor in the middle of the hallway. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

When I felt far enough from him, I slowed to a walk. I was breathing heavily and tried to calm down. It was beginning to hurt moving this much. I forced the pain back though. There were more important things to worry about. Why had I run? It had been the fight or flight response. I had not wanted to fight for some reason. I should have killed him. I should have taken his hostility with me to be the proof I needed to know that he had not changed. I had given the ultimatum but I had so easily let him harm me. He was stronger than I was, but at that moment, he had not seemed able to move at all. I had let the opportunity slip away.

As a Vicomte and the patron of Opera Populaire, it had been my duty to protect this establishment. The Opera Ghost had tried to kidnap me and I had let him go. Philippe would have never let this happen.

I reached the main hall and was about to head up the stairs to meet Philippe at the managers' office when I saw the managers, Philippe, and Carlotta standing at the top of the stairwell. I stayed where I was still unnoticed by them and watched.

"Have you seen the size of my part?" Carlotta screeched. She may be the prima donna, but her voice had never been meant to take the lead of an opera. Christine was indeed more suited to such roles. There was also the fact that Christine brought in more revenue. She was a commodity that could easily be sold. Carlotta looked pretty, but she would lose to Christine any day. At least the Opera Ghost had some business savvy in him.

"Signora, listen," Firmin tried to respond.

Carlotta cut him off. She punctuated her point by poking him on the chest, "It's an insult."

Firmin looked flustered. I waited to see what Philippe would do. It was his opera house for now since he had taken over since his arrival. The anger I felt had dimmed. Though it was a Vicomte's duty and I was the patron, my encounter with the Opera Ghost only further punctuated Philippe's necessary presence.

Philippe's attention had shifted from the argument. Christine had arrived.

"Ah!" Carlotta sarcastically sneered, "Here's our little flower!"

Christine did not respond to her taunt. I looked at her. She was truly beautiful, but what had I been thinking? Beauty meant nothing without standing. She was merely a chorus girl.

Andre interjected, "Quite the lady of the hour. You have secured the largest role in this 'Don Juan'."

Carlotta could not help but start an argument, "She's the one behind this." She accused and Christine looked thoroughly insulted.

They began to exchange verbal spars when Philippe noticed me. He slipped away from the scene that Christine and Carlotta were creating and headed down towards the stairs.

"Did you see him?" Philippe asked.

I nodded. I did not bother to elucidate since he apparently knew why I had requested to accompany him.

He stood there watching me impatiently, "And?"

I shrugged, "He took the cloak and tried to kidnap me."

Philippe leaned forward in interest, "Kidnap you?"

I nodded.

"How did you possibly get away?" He said as though he were truly astonished I had managed to escape.

He thought so little of me. However, he and the Opera Ghost had fought before, so Philippe knew what strength he had. I had been too weak to escape. It was only because of his wound and my good fortune was I able to. "He was weakened by the wound you delivered him this morning."

He grinned. "So he's still alive."

Philippe looked really pleased at the news. I would think that he should be more worried. The probabilities of something going awry at the showing of Don Juan Triumphant had increased… if it was to be performed at all.

Christine's and Carlotta's voices became louder.

"You think I'm blind?"

"This isn't my fault! I don't want any part in this plot!"

Philippe cast a glance back towards them. I too looked. The managers were rather engrossed with their argument. They appeared almost reluctant to stop it. The prospects of Christine and Carlotta physically fighting and ripping off clothes did seem rather probable. I too waited in anticipation.

Firmin, ever being the business minded one cut in, "You have a duty!"

"I cannot sing it," Christine stepped away from them, "duty or not!"

She looked to Philippe then. Her eyes pleaded with him, but I could not determine for what reason. She was waiting for his lead. Her eyes fell upon me and I noticed that she hesitated for a moment. She did a double take as though she had not realized that it had been me.

Philippe started up the stairs, and I trailed behind him.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Andre looked at me in confusion, "Who…?"

Firmin cut him off, "Monsieur le Vicomte."

He nudged Andre. Andre looked flustered, "I almost did not recognize you. I think your haircut looks rather nice."

I rolled my eyes. He did not 'almost not recognize' me. He had not recognized me.

He asked, "Why did you cut it?"

Did everyone have to focus on my hair?

Christine commented in a voice that clearly said 'I told you so', "You look rather dashing."

Carlotta stopped her whining for a moment to nod her head in agreement.

They were all staring at me. I stood confidently and looked at them all indifferently. Their comments warranted no response. They should not even speak to me so easily. I should command their respect, and they should not bother with my business. I looked to Philippe.

"We have all been blind," he commented as though a realization had come upon him, "and yet the answer is staring us in the face."

Everyone's attention suddenly turned to him. The managers were aptly paying attention. All eyes were on him, and I could tell that he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. I stayed partially behind him and waited to hear his plan.

"This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend…" He once again left us in anticipation.

"We're listening."

"Go on."

They were in Philippe's grasp now. I watched him in admiration. He indeed knew how to have his way. I needed to hone my own skills to be able to do so. This was a perfect opportunity to watch him and learn.

"We shall play his game – perform his work – but remember we hold the ace," Philippe looked at Christine then. Understanding what he was planning, Christine began to walk away. Philippe followed her and we followed him.

I finished his thought, "For, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend."

Philippe glanced at me approvingly.

"We make certain the doors are barred," Philippe added.

The managers understood the plan now as well.

"We make certain our men are there…"

"We make certain they're armed."

Christine stopped walking suddenly and spun around at us, "Madness!"

We almost ran into her.

"I'm not so sure," I commented. She looked at me as though I had betrayed her.

She whispered, "You too?"

She did not seem so upset though. One could easily tell that she was not wholly against the plan. She was only indulging herself in knowing that she had so much power over us. We had to convince her, and she knew it.

I shrugged at her whispered question. The plan was brilliant. I had told the Opera Ghost that if he did plan something, I would kill him. If he did not disturb us at all on the premier of Don Juan Triumphant, he would not have to worry about being caught. "Not if it works."

"This is madness!" She reiterated and began walking away again.

This time Philippe did not follow her. Instead, he turned around and faced the managers as well as Carlotta.

Andre asserted, "The tide will turn."

Carlotta reiterated her belief. She pointed in the direction where Christine had walked away, "She's the one behind this. Christine."

We all looked at her skeptically. It was obvious she was simply upset about not having a larger part.

"This is all her doing," she continued, "This is the truth."

Firmin ignored her, "This is his undoing. If you succeed you free us all."

Carlotta stood there indignant that no one was listening to her.

"If Christine helps us in this plan," Andre brought to our attention.

It was true. This plan depended on Christine. The Opera Ghost was obsessed with her. He would only come if she sang.

I agreed, "If Christine won't, then no one can."

Carlotta looked at me with disdain.

Philippe cleared his throat. When the managers looked at him, he ordered them, "Get everything prepared. Have all the performers ready, but also make certain that we save the date of the premier. Inform the police of our plan now so that they can be well prepared as well. We need many able bodied men."

They nodded.

"But what of Christine?" Firmin asked.

Philippe confidently replied, "You let me worry about such things. Go and have everything prepared. We need this perfect."

I rolled my eyes, as though Philippe would have it any other way but perfect.

The managers and Carlotta walked away and I was about to follow them when Philippe called me, "Raoul. You're coming with me."

I nodded and followed him as he walked down the hallway we had seen Christine walk down.

"Philippe," I kept stride with him. "We must tread lightly. We have seen him kill. He may do so again."

Philippe looked away. "I know this well, Raoul." He was silent for a while and I thought he was going to remain so until he commented, "What did you say to him?"

I did not bother to pretend to wonder about whom he was speaking. He would see right through the ruse anyway. "I told him that to repay my debt, I would leave him be unless there was an indication that he meant to harm the opera house again," I replied. Had I not done the right thing? I looked to Philippe for some confirmation.

He mulled over this, "As a Vicomte, it was honourable to want to repay your debt to him. However, as the patron, you should have killed him the moment you had a chance."

I nodded at his sage words.

"You must kill him," Philippe reinforced, "He is a very dangerous man who only wants to exploit you to get to Christine. You must kill him. It is your duty."

I nodded once more. It was settled. If Philippe said to do so, it was best. I would have to kill the Opera Ghost the next time I saw him.

We saw Christine at a distance. She had stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. Philippe paused before she noticed us, "Help me comfort her." He smiled at me rather evilly. He was scheming once more. I could do nothing but listen to him though. "You know her better." He added and the look was gone. I wondered if it had been my imagination.

We walked up to her, and she looked up at us with tears in her eyes.

She smiled weakly at me, "You do look rather handsome with your hair cut, Raoul."

She reached out to touch my hair and I ducked under her hand.

I disregarded her statement and told her. "You know why we've come here. Do you not?"

She looked at me distastefully before ignoring me. She turned her attention fully on Philippe. I shrugged and simply moved to the side to watch. I had tried, but it was not my fault if she was going to try to change the subject.

"Philippe," she moved closer to him, "I'm frightened. Don't make me do this."

Philippe's expression softened but he did not respond.

"Philippe," she tried again, "it scares me. Don't put me through this ordeal by fire."

He held her hands gently in his. A part of me told me that I should be furious. This was the very thing that he had forbidden between Christine and me. How could he so freely do so in front of me? I ignored that part of me though. I trusted whatever Philippe had in mind. He was smart and he had the best interests of the Chagny name in mind. I could never forget that. It had been I who had almost let shame come upon our household. It had been me.

She looked around paranoid. Whispering so that I had to strain my ears to hear, she spoke to Philippe, "He does not want me."

The Phantom did not want Christine? She should know best on the subject, but I doubted it. He cast her in the lead role in an opera that I was certain he had written specifically for her. He had stolen our engagement ring saying, 'Your chains are still mine. You belong to me.' I caught Philippe's eyes and shrugged. I did not believe it. Maybe he was trying to convince Christine he did not want her so that she would lower her guard.

Philippe nodded shallowly. He considered her statement for a moment and seemed to agree with me, "Perhaps he does not, but I do believe he will appear."

Christine did not look like she appreciated being bait. She pleaded still, "He'll take me, I know." Apparently, she also knew that he would take her if the opportunity presented itself. The way she said it though, I did not believe she thought that he would take her alive. She was convinced he would harm her, and I could not see where she had gotten the idea. She quickly glanced at me suddenly uncertain if she should go on. I saw Philippe squeeze her hands and nod his head almost imperceptibly at her. Had I not been avidly watching, I would have missed it. "We'll be parted forever. He won't let me go."

Philippe called her name soothingly, "Christine."

A dim echo seemed to respond from the walls. Philippe did not seem to hear it though. Christine and I did.

She pulled her hands away from his as though she had been burned. She turned from him and took a few steps away. She gazed into the middle distance and sang, "What I once used to dream, I now dread. If he finds me, it won't ever end. And he'll always be there…"

I finished her song, "Singing songs in my head."

Her head whipped in my direction. I did not know what possessed me to sing that line. I did not know why I had even known the words. Christine sang it so often that I should not be surprised. Something compelled me to finish it anyway, "He'll always be there, singing songs in my head."

Philippe cleared his throat and broke the spell in which I had been. Christine snapped out of her surprise. He walked towards her ignoring me completely for the moment, "You said yourself he was nothing but a man."

He did not step closer than an arm's length away. Christine looked ready to bolt.

I too tried to reason with her, "Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead."

Christine looked between us and once again looked away. I had seen the answer in her eyes however. She had long since decided what she would do. I believed that she had decided since the main hall when she had looked to Philippe to lead the way. She was only disagreeing for… for whom? Was she playing innocent for the Phantom? This new fear she held for the Opera Ghost told me otherwise. She was acting for Philippe. She was being the uncertain damsel. Philippe would appreciate the effort. He loved being considered the hero. The news would greedily eat it up and his name would be glorified even more.

She sang once more. I wondered if she liked to hear her own voice, "Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live?"

Philippe closed the distance between them finally. He too had seen the decision in her eyes. He gently took her in his arms.

"Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?"

I scoffed silently to myself. Christine was someone of whom to be wary. I could now see it. She had betrayed me by clinging onto Philippe. I held no qualms about that. I only felt a dim satisfaction in knowing that Philippe would betray her. He was not stupid as I had been.

"Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice? He kills without a thought; he murders all that's good. I know I can't refuse and yet, I wish I could."

She turned around in his loose embrace and finally looked him in the eyes. "Oh God, if I agree, what horrors wait for me in this, the Phantom's opera?"

He replied, "Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care."

I had expected to hear the voice echo her name once more, but outwardly, I heard nothing. In my head, I could hear it clearly though.

Philippe looked uncertain what to say next. He knew Christine wanted to be consoled but perhaps I did know her better. I sang, "But every hope and every prayer rests on you now."

She looked at me briefly but took the words as though Philippe had sung them himself. I thought I saw Philippe grin at her but could not tell. His hand slipped behind her head and closed the distance between them.

They kissed deeply, almost lewdly. I could tell that Philippe was trying to make a point. He was clearly claiming Christine as his own. He did not need to do so. I was not going to entangle myself with her once again. I had learned my lesson the first time. I watched them in boredom. I diverted my eyes when I realized I should not actually be watching them kiss.

I looked down the empty hallway and wondered which wall the Opera Ghost hid behind. It could not simply be my imagination that I heard speak Christine's name. I was certain that she had heard it as well. I impatiently shifted from side to side. How long was Philippe going to keep me waiting? I was suddenly tired and wanted to go back to my bed to sleep. Being around these frivolous people exhausted me.

"Raoul," Philippe called me.

My name echoed in the hallway and I could not tell whether it had been in my mind or aloud. Philippe did not react, so I figured it had simply been in my mind. Turning around, I noticed that Christine had already left.

Philippe placed his hand on my back and lead me forward. We began walking back towards the entrance of the opera house.

"I want to talk to you," he started, "I'm very proud of the way you acted today. You've shown a lot of improvement since when I came."

I nodded, pleased that I had garnered his praise. There was something more though.

"You must remember though that the Opera Ghost cannot be reasoned with. No matter what, it's your duty as a Vicomte to kill him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I nodded. I understood the first time he told me. He did not need to convince me. I told him as such and he smiled back at me.

"I know you don't need convincing. I will be dealing with much of the specifics in the meantime. I would like you to guard Christine."

I nodded even though I wondered why I had to watch her again. The Phantom had made me watch her, and now Philippe wanted me to watch her as well. I knew she was integral to our plan, but such attention should not be wasted on a ballet rat.

Philippe must have seen my hesitation for he responded, "It's the gentlemanly thing to do. You have been childhood friends. It's proper."

"I understand." I immediately responded. I would do so if Philippe asked. It did not matter what I thought. He had already said the words that convinced me though. If it were proper, then I would do so.

Philippe looked satisfied.

o.o.o

The weeks that led up to the premier of Don Juan Triumphant were once again filled with watching Christine.

However, Philippe did not seem to think that I could handle the job myself. He placed two personal guards to watch me. I never had a moment alone when I was in the opera house and even when I was not in the opera house. Philippe must have been worried that the Opera Ghost would once again attempt to kidnap me.

I was secretly glad for the guards. I knew that I should have been outraged since Philippe did not trust me. I was a Vicomte and I knew how to fight. I should not need bodyguards. However, every now and then I would hear a voice calling out to me. It had to be the Opera Ghost. No one else heard it though. The voice seemed to call to me and physically pull me away. Having the guards present helped me realize what I was doing. Luckily, I only heard the voices in the Opera Populaire. At home, there were only the voices in my head. I could hear remnants of his songs in my mind and it felt as though they were twisting their way through my thoughts. I did not lose focus though.

The Phantom was not playing fair, but I let it go. I could only assume he wanted to get to Philippe by going through me. I was still too weak. I needed to be stronger. I needed to be strong enough to confront him and win in a battle. I trained with Philippe when we were not at the opera house. He did not question my sudden desire to practice my sword skills. He actually looked pleased. He reminded me every night of what I was to do, and when he did, it was easier to forget the voice that haunted my mind.

As for Christine, she did not give me dirty looks anymore. She simply accepted my presence. Sometimes I would catch her looking at me rather wistfully, but then she would come to herself. She would shake her head and return to the rehearsals.

Don Juan Triumphant was different from any opera that I had ever heard. It was grating on the ears, but there was something more. There was an intricacy in it that I could not fully understand. I could not understand music as well, as deeply as the Opera Ghost had written it.

Unfortunately, I was unable to hear the opera in its entirety. Nearing the premier, Philippe ordered me to stay at home. I was not pleased with his decision to keep me away. I would think that the nearer the days got to the premier, the better it would be for me to watch Christine. However, I followed his orders and stayed at the estate with my two bodyguards.

I spent my days reading books and hunting. My mind would always wander back to the opera house however. I wondered how everything was going. The last time I had been there Piangi had been having problems with his lines. Carlotta had also been complaining. I wondered if they had resolved their problems. I thought more about the composer though. It seemed a waste to have to kill a musical genius. One could make much money off such a man. That business side of me hoped he would not do anything stupid. I doubted that he would be able to contain himself though.

Most of the time I spent in training. It was one of the benefits I found with having bodyguards. They were the perfect people with whom to practice my skills. I was becoming stronger, and as the days neared the premier, I found myself anticipating the moment when I would be able to not only see the opera in its entirety but also confront the man behind the mask.

I would finally be able to fight the Opera Ghost, and I knew that I would win. I would kill him if we crossed blades. His death was not only necessary. It was inevitable.

o.o.o.o

End ch19

Word count: 9,770

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)! Reviews are how they say… Chicken Soup for the fanfiction writer's soul.

Chapter Review: Stupid Raoul and his hero worship of Philippe. After Erik's chapter gave some hope, he had to go and ruin things by freaking being the Vicomte. Erik should have just knocked him out and kidnapped him.

Chapter's pretty short. It saddens me that I think that way now. I know it shouldn't but considering the fact that starting this fic, my goal had been 6,000 words, I think this sudden change of number might be bad. However, I can handle this shorter chapter since I know that chapter 21 and 22 are going to be soooo good. :o) I have so much planned. I can't wait.

A/N: you guys have convinced me. Bringing back the A/N, which is evil! I don't mind my sn so much, but it's just my name! It was not quite creative of me, was it? But at least it's advertisement, right?

Thanks to my reviewers!
xdark.flowerx: I don't mind long pointless reviews of nothing… though long, I don't think your review falls under the category of pointless or nothing. Just like chapters in a story, long reviews are cool:o)
Zee: Emotionally tormented characters are the best kind, right?
Psychos-Anonymous: listening to the soundtrack on repeat is actually how I write the chapters. It sort of keeps me focused (and sort of distracts me sometimes as well. It can't be helped though. Who can stop themselves from breaking out into song?)
PuppetofDreams: You know what's weird… I did not even think about the OOC factor. If he does stop being who he's been being then wouldn't that make him OOC? Good question. Let's see if I don't atrociously ruin his character (the one we all love so much).
Tsurai no Shi: Thanks for your compliment. I always worry about the flow since it never sounds the way it's supposed to when the story makes its journey from my mind to the computer. My doubts are a little relieved.
first-rain: I think it's a love-hate relationship with me torturing Raoul. We don't really want to see it happen, but when it does, Raoul's just too brilliant when he's full of angst.
whatevergirl: hope you like this chapter… I am so mean to Raoul. I'm almost ashamed of myself… almost.
Mithril Maiden: I was trying to be repetitive, but maybe I overdid it? I'll have to go re-read it again. I wanted Erik to have that sort of thought process where everything does keep coming back to the same facts, to the same thoughts because he thinks he has already accepted these facts but in a way, he's still in the process of trying to convince himself. Thanks for the feedback. I'll try to think of other ways to do so. thumbs up for bringing it up
Mistoffelees FTW: there's 23 chapters, so technically this story will resolve itself in 5 chapters (crazy huh?) Bad part is that I've thought of another story that I really want to work on instead of this one.

Thank you all for your reviews again, and to those who don't review… Hope you like the story so far (I can't tell unless you drop a line).