Author's notes:

Ankh: Oh how I love thee….thank you for the review! I hope you continue on this journey with me!

Sapphire Tearz: Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoy the next ones….some interesting things are about to happen!

AJNemo: Thank you for hunting this story down each night…I appreciate your following it! I just don't have it in my heart to be cruel to him. Raoul might be a rich man, with seemingly everything, but the one thing he lacks is something all the money in the world cannot buy…true love…everyone is on an equal playing field there…all can be hurt…all can be made whole…all can be surprised when it sneaks up on them……tee hee, tee hee!

Bexy: Thank you for reviewing the chapters. I hope you enjoy the next ones…we are building towards something….I can just feel it!

Glitter Queen of the Ice Show: Yes, I'm just a sap, I feel for Raoul. What is pleasure without pain, love without suffering? Somewhere inside all of us is a little bit of Raoul don't you think? He is a man of character…and men of character never REALLY lose…

Chapter 25 Hauntings of a future lost, sweet memories of the past

Raoul found himself once again in the Phantom's lair. He didn't care what time it was, or how much his muscles ached. He felt as if he was in a world that had no time….a world that gave no end to his pain.

He walked over to the piano plunking on a few of the ivory keys. It unsettled him how the hollow room embraced the notes, resonating off the walls. It felt like they were inside of him, not around him. In the deep quiet of the room the music seemed to blend with the air, traveling in and out of his lungs with the oxygen, becoming part of the very fibers of his being. An eerie chill ran up his spine.

Raoul had never learned to play the piano or any other instrument for that matter, finding solace in listening rather than actively participating. He regretted it now, what great pleasure it seemed to give the performer he thought. Performing had been viewed by his father, and "society" as rather undignified for a family of their stature, for surely they could command an army of musicians to play….they would be at their beck and call. He shook his head, abandoning the keys.

Alone, he was free to explore the rooms at will, poking and prodding, wondering what it was like for a creature that lived in such darkness. He wandered over to the room where he assumed the Phantom slept. The coffin, the table, and nothing more. "What a miserable existence, to go to sleep each night hoping not to wake." Raoul muttered to himself.

He went next to the room where he had last seen Christine. Walking in, he noticed how warm it seemed in comparison to the rest of the cavern. Fabric draped across the front, tapestries on the walls, full-length mirrors hung, a dressing screen, dresser, a small chair and vanity. It was appointed as well as any room for a fine woman should be. "How did he manage all of this?" Raoul thought to himself. "He must have been planning this for months…years…" Raoul choked back a sob. "He has wanted her for years…" Raoul broke down.

Kneeling next to the bed he wept bitterly. Oh how he wished things had been different. That he had never made Christine perform that night… No matter what, this thing…this man….would never have stopped hunting her…he would have wanted her to the very end. Christine would never have been beyond the grasp of him…if not his very hands…then his mind. Raoul felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach.

Raoul rose to his feet, wiping his face. He walked now to the dresser, where a single candlestick still sat. He reached down with his torch, lighting the wick. As the room filled with the soft light, Raoul ventured over behind the dressing screen, picking up the dress that he had looked at before. It was damp and cold. Carrying it back to the bed, he laid it out over the covers. He examined each detail, the beading, the lace, the brocade. His hands ran up and down the neckline, then down to the hem. It was as intricate and delicately beautiful as Christine herself.

"How could she choose to live a life like this…how could she have chosen HIM! HE could offer her nothing but darkness…a world so remote that even ground dwelling animals didn't venture in," he muttered in a controlled rage.

Raoul never having been denied in his life, knew not how to deal with this loss. He had never been rejected…the opposite parallel to the one who now possessed his Christine…he had never been accepted.

Raoul lay down on the bed, the soft coverings giving way beneath his somnolent body. He lay next to Christine's dress, wanting only to dream that she was still there with him. He closed his eyes trying to imagine it…and though he fought it, soon drifted off into a fitful slumber.

XXXX

Meg sat looking out the window a long while taking note of the lack of movement around the Opera House. Soon it was mid-morning; she heard her mother stir. "What time is it?" Madame Giry asked through a strained yawn. "How long have I been sleeping." Meg glanced over to the bed, "not long mother, perhaps a couple of hours….you needed your rest, in fact you should still be sleeping now!"

Meg rose, walking over to her mother's side, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I guess there is no use in rising early…there are no classes to teach, no ballerinas to direct." Madame Giry rested her head again in the pillow resignedly, looking up at the ceiling.

"Mum, there is something that I must show you." Meg walked over to the table and brought back the envelope and ribbon. "Where did you get this?" Madame Giry quickly pulling herself to a sitting position, a horrified look on her face.

"Sara gave it to me." Meg replied. "Sara?" Madame Giry looked puzzled. "Our innkeeper, her name is Sara." Her mother looked even more confused. "Was this here last night….did it arrive this morning…there is nothing inside?" Madame Giry looked at Meg anxiously. "No mother, it arrived a week ago." "What?" Madame Giry was more confused than before.

"Mother, Sara told me that these arrangements were made by a stranger a week ago. They arrived in a letter, in that envelope, with payment-in-full requesting that the inn have no other guests, and that it remain that way for a week." Madame Giry looked at Meg, a realization coming over her. "Mum, the letter told Sara that the guests in need of lodging would be obvious, and that she might need to invite them in. So when she saw us standing in the street last night, she thought that it might be us."

Meg looked at her mother, a small smile spreading over her face. "Could it be…he must have somehow known…but how?" Madame Giry was staring out the window now. "The letter said that the guests may or may not arrive, but that the rooms were to be kept ready for them either way. I think he might have known…but hoped it wouldn't come to this…"

Meg reached out and touched her mother's shoulder. "Mother….he did care for us." Madame Giry smiled at her daughter, reaching out and touching her fair cheek. "He always has…I told you he never abandons what he cares about." Madame Giry rested her back against the headboard, feeling a bit light headed.

Meg looked down, taking in a deep breath before asking "Mother, why didn't he ever come to us….to be a part of our family?" Madame Giry turned to Meg, tears welling up from deep inside her. "Meg dear, this world has been far too cruel to him…I tried to coax him to come up and share dinner with me in my room, so he would at least have some company. Once in a great while he would oblige but he never tarried long, not wanting to put me in any danger. When he would stay he would talk of the great composers, architecture, politics. He was always curious about current events, and changes in the casting. It was always surprising to me how much he knew." Madame Giry smiled.

"He borrowed books; he had a ravenous appetite for literature, sometimes reading an entire book in a single day." Madame Giry looked far away now "sometimes he would talk about his life, but only in small amounts before pain would overtake him and he would grow quiet again." Madame Giry looked cheerless. "I always invited him to join us for a holiday, to come to our house…but he never wanted anything to cast a shadow of impropriety on our family, lest anyone see a gentleman with us. In the absence of a husband, he feared for gossip on our account."

Madame Giry looked at Meg, "he also didn't want to frighten you. He knew of your tenderness, and how even small stories gave you nightmares…he didn't want to burden you with his image…." Meg looked down, a small trickle of tears falling from her chin. "Mother…do you love him?"

Madame Giry wiped a tear from her face, a surprised look in her eyes. "Yes Meg, I do love him, the way one love's a dear friend. He helped me through difficult times….when your father proposed…when I almost lost you during my pregnancy…when your father died….he was a faithful friend Meg. He feels very much to me like the brother that I never had." Madame Giry smiled mournfully, looking up at Meg. "Now you may understand why I helped him…..protected him."

Meg went to her mother, holding her lightly around the shoulders. "Mum, it will be alright…I just know it my heart it will be." Meg smiled at her mother. "Come, let's go down for lunch…I can smell that Sara's been busy again…she knew you'd be hungry."

Meg helped her mother up from bed and then went down to fetch her a basin of water. Madame Giry stared out the window, full of wonder. What the days coming would bring, she didn't know, but she knew that at least for the week, she and Meg would be taken care of. "Thank you Erik" drifting in a whisper off her lips.