Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash. Post-POTO. A bit of R/C (yeah). General discontent runs through the characters as they are forced to adjust their views of happily ever after. I guess a bit of E/C as well (but that's usually unavoidable)
Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
A/N: As expected, this post is one day late (had to rush it or else I wouldn't be able to work on IF).
Story note: Erik makes his appearance (a really small appearance), but this chapter is really Raoul-centric.
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Reluctantly Willing
Chapter 02 - … to help
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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
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It had been five days since their engaged to be engaged conversation. Today, the fifth day, Raoul stood just outside the front entrance of his home silently watching as Christine entered a carriage without once looking back. He waved nonetheless with a self-loathing smile in place.
He didn't bother trying to look on the bright side; there were only facts. She wasn't leaving for good, simply going to spend a day or two at the Giry household. It wasn't like anything would change.
His home was large. He'd always thought it was more than he would ever really need; still, he liked having the space to take long walks on his grounds. Yet, he never thought it was large enough that two people would be able to spend days never seeing each other.
In the last three days, Raoul's and Christine's paths had not crossed. Not once. Raoul was certain it was deliberate on Christine's part so after the second day, he stopped seeking her out. Instead, he continued with his day, spending it conducting business and pondering what was wrong with his relationship with Christine. He'd yet to come to a final conclusion about the latter, though he'd gone through every aspect of their relationship in the past and their non-existent relationship in the present – after all, to have a relationship, you'd actually have to see each other or at least communicate.
So, seeing her leave shouldn't have affected him very much. He would simply continue on as he would have, but just the knowledge that she was no longer on his estate saddened him. He was losing hope and even the false hope of their engaged to be engaged was fading rather quickly.
It was laughable really that the reason for her departure, temporary as it was, was because she felt that having the entire household between them was still too close. Too close.
Raoul wondered how much more of this he could stand. It hurt to be near her. It hurt to be apart from her. It just hurt. Everything about Christine just bombarded him with conflicting emotions.
Love wasn't supposed to be like this. At least reciprocated love wasn't supposed to be, and maybe that was where the answer to their problems lay. He didn't want to admit it even to himself though that Christine might not love him in return. Why would she give him that hope if she didn't think she could love him?
He waited until the carriage was out of sight, hoping that maybe at the end of the driveway she would look back. It wouldn't have fixed anything, but it would have softened the blow from the fact that he had learned of her departure from the butler the morning that she was leaving and that the same butler had been the one to tell him the reason of her departure.
She didn't look back. In fact, as she had gotten into the carriage, he was certain that he'd actually seen her smiling, happy to be getting away.
He couldn't stand it any more. He needed to get away, maybe a walk was in order; it would help him clear his mind. He needed to spend some time away from his own estate. The building only reminded him that he and Christine had grown more distant than he had thought possible for two people living together in the same house.
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Erik almost laughed aloud. He would have if it had not hurt so much to breathe much less laugh.
Had he been under the opera house for so long that he'd forgotten that there were in fact more evil things in the darkness of the night than himself? Those 'others' were the main reason Erik was who he was now; he shouldn't have thought so highly of himself.
He'd left the opera house after a long internment in the cellar after Christine had left, after the Vicomte had left, after the mob had left, after they'd all left, and he'd been left alone. He hadn't eaten in days because he'd not only had no appetite but also because there'd been no food to eat. So, instead of dying just yet, he decided to scrounge for some sort of meal when his stomach felt as though it was beginning to eat itself.
All it had taken was a well-placed stone to his head and three men who had realized much too late that he had nothing to offer them but a fright. They left him on the floor surrounded by filth in a dark alley unable to move.
To die in such a way. Erik knew the blow to his pride would have had more impact had he not lost all his pride when he let the Vicomte take away his Christine. His mind was growing fuzzy and he was certain he had passed out several times already, but there was a warm hand on his head, one that was not trying to hurt him.
He struggled to open his eyes to see who would bestow such a kindness to him. All he could see was a hooded figure. For a second he thought he saw a flash of blonde hair, but when he tried to look again, he realized it was too dark to notice such things.
Erik was hauled onto his feet, the kind stranger swayed slightly. He knew he was dead weight, but his legs weren't listening to him. It was struggle to stay conscious at all and sooner than he expected he lost what slight hold he had on it.
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Raoul had been walking the whole day. Glad that he had the foresight to have taken his cloak, he pulled the hood low over his head so that no one would recognize him. At least then, he wouldn't have to take time out of his sulking to converse with others. He was no closer to clarity than he had been in the morning. He was only hungry, angry, and tired on top of being confused.
So lost in thought, he almost didn't stop walking fast enough when three men ran out of the alley almost knocking into him. They didn't bother apologizing and Raoul watched them go dispassionately. It simply took too much energy to get angry, but their haste did pique his interest.
Slowly, he turned into the alley. There was hardly any light, but on the floor, he could see a body, unmoving. He paused, unsure as to how to continue. He should call the police or walk away and pretend to have not seen anything, like any of his peers would have. After all, the man looked to be wearing rags.
The man groaned, and Raoul couldn't help think that this man might actually feel worse than he did at the moment. While Raoul's pain could only be healed by Christine, perhaps, he could help this man.
Moving closer, Raoul was shocked when he saw blood on the floor. He could only see the back of the man's head and the matted hair from where the trail of blood originated. Glancing to his left, he saw the stone that had been used to hit the stranger. It was probably some sort of robbery. Who would think this man had any money on him was a mystery to him though.
Gently cradling his head, Raoul turned him onto his back and gasped. Luckily for the ghost, he managed to stifle his immediate reaction, which was to drop the man's head back onto the floor. The ghost's eyes fluttered open for a moment before shutting again.
Raoul's hands were shaking as he placed the ghost's head back onto the floor. The desire to help faded. Taking several steps away from him, Raoul took in a shaky breath and tried to block out the image of the man's face from his mind's eye. Honestly, that face disturbed him greatly, but it wasn't the disgust that had gotten to him; it was the shock. He… God, he couldn't even say that he had not once thought of the man since they had left. He thought about the ghost constantly whether it was because of the nightmares or because he was trying to place the blame of Christine's aloofness on him. Of course he'd thought of the ghost.
He couldn't help this man. He just couldn't.
Turning away to walk out of the alley, Raoul paused. The man deserved to die… because what? He had murdered people. He had burned down the opera house. He had destroyed his relationship with Christine.
Two out of three wasn't so bad. Unfortunately, Raoul knew that the gradual erosion of his relationship with Christine could not be all the ghost's fault. How could the man have destroyed their relationship when he hadn't been around for the past several weeks? The Vicomte had of course considered the fact that maybe it was because Christine had lingering attachments to the ghost that they were drifting further apart, but even then, wouldn't it be Christine's fault? She had stopped trying to have a relationship with Raoul completely.
It didn't mean that Raoul had to hate the man any less than he already did. And, if Raoul just left him there, then technically, he wouldn't have been the one to kill the ghost. He could simply turn a blind eye.
Glancing over his shoulder, Raoul looked at the state of the ghost. He looked like he had hardly eaten. The man was dirty and unfortunately for Raoul, he wore no mask.
Poor wretched man indeed. Raoul hated the fact that he could think that without any sarcasm.
He took a step away expecting to hear another groan of some sort, but the man was silent. Raoul stopped and turned around. The ghost was also not moving. A mix of satisfaction and dread filled him. If the ghost were dead, then he wouldn't have to worry about saving or killing him. He could just walk away as though nothing had happened. Then again, could he really have this death on his conscience? The man was defenseless and probably hadn't even provoked those men.
Why was this such a difficult decision for him? He hated the man, right? He would have gladly killed him that night given the opportunity, but that was weeks ago. Most of that rancor had faded. He was bitter about being caught so easily by that Punjab lasso. He was annoyed that Christine had kissed him, but most of his feelings towards the man had dulled. Most of his feelings in general had dulled, pared down by his constant battles with Christine. It was simply too much to keep feeling so strongly when he was rebutted at every turn. He couldn't even hate the ghost properly.
And when it came down to it, Raoul had won in the end; if this could be called winning.
Raoul crouched by the ghost and couldn't help it when his hand reached forward to place on the man's forehead; he was cold to the touch. Those eyes fluttered open momentarily again, too unfocused to really see anything, but Raoul could almost swear that he was begging for help. Odd. Raoul would have thought that if anyone had a reason to want to die, it would be this man. Yet, with nothing left, the man still fought, fought harder than Raoul was doing.
Closing his eyes, Raoul hesitated. He could say that he was doing this for Christine. It would be the easy way to convince himself that what he was doing wasn't completely stupid. She would hate him if he let her angel die, but he didn't want to do things for Christine any more. He just couldn't leave him like this. When the man was better, then Raoul would perhaps kill him then in a fair fight.
Mind made up, he took the ghost's own cloak to fling it over the man's face so that no one would see his face. Slinging the man's arm over his shoulder, Raoul struggled under the man's weight. The ghost wasn't helping him at all. He tried to think of an easier way of carrying him, but the easiest way would be to find a horse. It was too late and Raoul did not want to have to answer any questions. Instead, he maneuvered the ghost to be draped over his back. Grabbing the man's arms over his shoulders, Raoul hefted him up higher. For someone who looked like he hadn't eaten in a while, he was surprisingly heavy. Stumbling, he headed back towards the street until he realized that he had no idea where he was planning to go. He couldn't bring him to a hospital. The police had stopped looking, but if a deformed man suddenly appeared, they would surely suspect. It wouldn't be difficult for someone to recognize the ghost after his unmasking.
God, the man was such a pain. He made everything difficult, even when Raoul was trying to help him. Raoul tried not to think about why he was going through so much trouble to help him at all. His mind was made up and he would follow through with it.
He could… he ran through all the possible scenarios in his mind. The ghost needed attention, but he couldn't have anyone else see him. Maybe he could go to Madame Giry; certainly, she would take him in. She had been the one harboring him after all.
Then, he realized that Christine was there. He might be saving the man, but he was not going to be the one to bring them together. There really was only one last place he could bring the ghost, his own home. Raoul sighed. Even when Christine returned, she avoided him all the time; she actually avoided his side of the house entirely. It wouldn't be too difficult to hide the ghost there.
Now, if only he could make it back to his estate.
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End Chapter 02
Word count: 2,334
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter review: Well, if you don't know what Alphabet Game day this coincides with, you haven't been paying attention. No virtual cookie for you. Poor confused Raoul.