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: Working on weekends is definitely difficult. I'm sorry this is late. I'm sure for some of you, I didn't make my Sunday deadline, but for me, I did.

Story note: Erik's in this chapter but I must say that the focus is really on Christine and Raoul.

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Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 08 - … to tell

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Erik had woken yesterday to see that Raoul had slept on the chair, completely unfazed by the fact that Erik could have very well killed him in his sleep. He actually doubted he would have been able to sneak up on Raoul. A creak in a floorboard out in the hallway had woken the blonde. His eyes opened as though he hadn't been asleep at all. Erik was beginning to doubt that he had slept.

Getting up, Raoul spared Erik only a glance, meeting his eyes without disdain or challenge. Erik was almost tempted to say it was concern, but he knew that had simply been a trick of the morning light. Perhaps he hadn't had enough sleep, but either way, Raoul strode into the den. Several muttered words were shared at the door, and Erik was certain that Raoul had only opened the door a fraction to grab the tray. He reentered the bedroom and placed the tray down on the nightstand without a word. Erik opened his mouth to say a snide comment, but it died in his throat when their eyes met again. He could swear it was concern.

Raoul retreated back into the den and for the next few hours remained there. He didn't even bother to close the door. Erik wasn't sure if it was because he was truly arrogant or unconcerned.

His hunger brought his attention to the food bedside. He didn't even hesitate in eating breakfast. The idea of a poisoning had been discarded sometime the night before. He shifted until he could see the blonde who had a similar breakfast on his desk. Raoul was eating while going through some missives.

Erik made himself comfortable on the bed while watching him. The boy was handsome enough, and he had money. Christine had good reason to have chosen him, but that didn't negate the fact that the boy had no substance. Okay, given the fact that Erik had never been particularly interested in learning more about the man, from what he'd seen, the Vicomte couldn't be that intelligent. He could sing somewhat, but just barely. He glared at Raoul when he didn't respond to the fixed stare. Erik was determined to make the boy squirm, intimidate him without breaking their compromise.

After all, he had thought through it. He could very well just find Christine himself, but he didn't think she would take well to suddenly finding him in the house. He doubted that she would listen to him if she thought he had broken in. He could try to explain, but the explanation itself seemed like more of a lie than any lie he could have said. Then, there was also the fact that to leave the room he would have to fight the Vicomte, and in the end, recuperating was the best plan before doing so. When they had fought in the cemetery, they'd been evenly matched. Having a handicap would no doubt make him lose. As he saw it, having Raoul explain their situation while recovering was truly the best course of action.

Instead of reacting to his stare, the only thing Raoul did was look up every fifteen minutes, meet his eyes, and Erik could almost swear, visually make sure he was all right. It downright irked him. To make matters worse, before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep. He woke up a few hours later and the Vicomte was still at his desk, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Their eyes met again and this time Erik rolled over so that he wouldn't have to see the blonde.

Determined to get a reaction from the Vicomte, Erik tried to stand up. He was pleased to find that he could do so without much effort. He almost felt normal; looking down at himself, he could see that he had lost a lot of weight since Christine's departure. He needed her. There was nothing left for him if Christine weren't with him. That much was obvious.

He reached up and felt the bandage around his head. Deciding it was best to leave it alone for now, he looked around to see if there were any clothes for him to wear. He saw nothing but grinned, realizing it could work to his advantage not to cover up. Perhaps his state of undress would make the Vicomte uncomfortable – though if the day before were any indication, the blonde would barely notice it until he was attacked.

Erik walked through the bedroom. He opened drawers and looked through the Vicomte's clothing. He opened closets and touched everything he could that was in the blonde's bedroom. He waited for the blonde to enter the room and tell him to stop, but nothing of the sort happened. Having nothing else to look through, he decided a more direct approach was in order. Because their deal was to remain in the bedroom, Erik stood at the doorway and stared at the blonde.

When Raoul finally looked up, ten minutes later, he was still standing in the doorway.

"Please," Raoul indicated to a chair on the other side of the desk, "Come in. Have a seat."

Erik hid his surprise and slowly entered the room. He sat down suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was naked when Raoul gave him his full attention. The Vicomte reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a roll of bandages.

"Stop." Erik said when he saw Raoul stand up. "I can do that myself."

Raoul looked between the bandages and his patient before relenting. He handed the bandages over but remarked, "How will you be able to check the wound?"

Erik paused. He could rewrap it but he wouldn't know until it was too late if the wound were all right. Erik practically ripped the bandages off his head. "Here."

The Vicomte finally showed a reaction. He winced when he saw the rough motion. Erik tried not to notice.

Tensing when the blonde walked behind him, Erik sat stiffly in the chair. He didn't know why he was allowing this. He didn't need anyone to survive. He figured that he mustn't be feeling as well as he thought to even consider such a thing. He was about to tell the Vicomte to leave him be, when he felt those warm hands on his neck. His lower back muscles spasmed at the touch. His throat constricted and any hope of telling the Vicomte to leave him alone was lost. His eyes closed of their own accord as gentle hands threaded through his hair, brushing it aside to reveal the wound caused by the stone. He suddenly felt too warm.

After a few moments, that warmth was gone and Erik's eyes opened quickly. What had he been doing? This was his rival.

"The wound is healing well," Raoul's voice was even, obviously unaffected by that moment. He walked back around the desk and sat down. "I asked the butler to bring some extra clothing for you. My collection of books may not be that extensive, but you're free to read any that interest you."

Without a word, Erik left the room, needing the space. Once he calmed himself down, he wrapped his head and focused on his goal. Just because the Vicomte was acting oddly, didn't mean he could allow himself to be affected. To prove his point, he walked back into the den and looked at the books. He read over the Vicomte's shoulder, but Raoul hardly showed a reaction to his presence.

The rest of their time together was spent in that awkward coexistence – well, it was awkward for Erik. He couldn't help but feel that something was truly off about the Vicomte, but he focused on not thinking about that. Instead, he focused on getting well and determining what he could say to Christine.

Now, it was the evening of the second day, and Erik hadn't seen the Vicomte since after lunch. It was the longest time they'd spent away from each other since he had woken.

Erik could almost say that he was excited. He was fairly certain that the Vicomte was going to tell her, and then, he would be able to convince Christine that staying with Raoul was simply a bad idea. While the words ran through his mind, all he was able to do was pace. He couldn't even pretend to busy himself since there was nothing left to look at in the rooms. The books weren't interesting, though there were a few of interest. He hadn't been able to focus enough to read. The only thing he'd been able to do was watch the Vicomte.

Yes, he had spent the entire day yesterday and this morning just watching the man. It hadn't been difficult since he was always around, and Erik had made a point to not hide the fact that he waswatching, observing, just looking for a reason why his rival would go through all this trouble. He was looking for that ulterior motive. And so far, he hadn't been able to find one.

He did come to several conclusions though. One was that the blonde wasn't some evil mastermind. He doubted the Vicomte had ulterior motives, or at least motives that were intended to harm him. The blonde was simply stupid. What other reason was there to take your rival into your household when said object of interest was still present?

And the other that he had triumphantly deduced after waking in the middle of the night only to see the Vicomte sleeping on the chair again. The blonde wasn't married. He couldn't be. No newly wed man would stay away from his bride for that long without once consulting her. Christine hadn't shown up either, and while his initial thought had been that this had all been part of the plan, he could think of no other reason why Raoul needed this ruse.

If the blonde wanted him dead, he could have left him there in the alley. Or he could have taken him to the police. Or he could have killed him the second he woke up. But the Vicomte had done none of that. If he wanted to gloat, then he should have been doing so already. Erik even had to admit it himself that there were quite a number of things to gloat about: Christine, the opera house, saving his life, nursing him back to health. Still, the Vicomte hadn't breathed a word to lord it over him; even his demeanor completely lacked the slightest hint of gloating.

Then again, Erik had noticed a rather lackluster response from him in general. To put it simply, the man looked tired. Erik was certain of it now, even after having first thought it when Raoul had been callous and forceful; this was a different man from the one who'd been at the opera house. It was rather disconcerting. And this fact only reinforced the belief that Raoul and Christine were not married. It made him excited yet wary at the same time. What had happened between them? What could have possibly happened to make the Vicomte save Erik's life, treat him well, and give him the opportunity to see her again?

Erik shook his head. He'd been thinking the same question for hours now. It didn't matter what had happened. What mattered now was the fact that he had the opportunity to not only see Christine again, he had the opportunity to steal her away from the Vicomte – if it could even be considered stealing now. He could make her see that she had made the wrong decision.

The only question now was if Raoul was actually going to hold his end of the bargain.

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Raoul sat at the top of the stairs, waiting. He had actually planned on telling Christine the night before, but she'd locked herself in her room after dinner and claimed to have a headache. It felt like they were married already. So, Raoul had let her be even though he wanted to give her some time to think about what he was going to tell her. But tonight was the second day, and he couldn't give her that luxury.

He'd given himself the deadline for a reason. Mostly because he could appease the ghost, but also because he needed that deadline as incentive for him to finally act, as though the ghost's presence wasn't incentive enough. He just didn't think he could have summoned the will to confront Christine otherwise. Though, Raoul had to admit having the ghost around was trying. It took a lot to ignore him, especially when he insisted on staring. It was a little comforting to know that he was well though. His efforts hadn't gone in vain. The ghost was as irritable and trying as ever.

Sighing, Raoul looked down the hallway. He knew that she was still in her room. She'd been there since lunch, but after the first few hours of waiting, Raoul was beginning to worry that he had somehow missed her. However, he'd been waiting for Christine since that first day he saw her; he could wait a little longer. This barely seemed a minute in all that time.

When he heard the door open, he stood up immediately. Her footsteps were steady until the moment she saw him.

"Good evening, Christine," he said, making sure he was directly in front of the stairs.

"Raoul," she looked past him and then behind her. She kept her distance.

He wondered if she was going to run. Before she could decide, Raoul started, "I have something important to tell you." But his well-practiced speech was suddenly gone. He could barely speak. Looking at her hurt. How could he love her so much and still have it hurt? He was tempted to hug her, but the knowledge of how she would react made his stomach turn. It made him keep his distance.

Putting her hands on her hips in defiance, Christine glared at him, "I'm hungry right now, Raoul. Can we not speak about this tomorrow?"

Shaking his head, Raoul told himself this was the only way. If he didn't tell her this now, she would only avoid him for more weeks. "We need to talk."

She moved towards him, intent on walking around him even if it meant to press herself against the wall. Raoul bowed his head in defeat. He wasn't about to physically force her to stay, didn't think he should have to. She should want to listen to him, want to speak with him. So when she approached he moved to the side to let her pass, but as she walked down the first few steps, he was finally able to get the words out. "The opera ghost is here."

She stopped then. He hadn't wanted to start with that fact. In fact, he had wanted to start with their relationship and their current living situation. He wanted to start with how much he still loved her and if only she would let herself love him back or even just let herself let him love her, then things would be better. Things wouldn't be so difficult, so wrong. He wanted to tell her that he believed she wasn't over her past. She wasn't ready to move on because of how things had ended and how they could fix all that.

Right now, he'd ruined any chance of saying those words. He just wished she would turn around so that he could see her expression. For all the time it took for her to finally turn around, he was almost certain she hadn't heard him.

She looked at him in disbelief – at least she didn't look excited. She frowned before asking, "What did you say?"

"I," Raoul hesitated. He shook his head but knew he couldn't just change the subject to try a different approach, "I've been trying to tell you that I ran into the opera ghost a few nights ago."

"You ran into him?" She repeated. She walked up the stairs to poke him on the chest. Raoul almost grabbed her hand. She hadn't been this close to him in a while. It felt as though her finger burned where she touched him. She yelled, "Are you sure you weren't looking for him?"

"What?" Raoul actually took a step back. He was torn between wanting her touch and wanting to avoid her. She had no right to touch him right now, not after all those days and nights of creating the separation that existed between them, not when all she wanted to do now was hurt and accuse him.

"What were you thinking?" She continued, "Were you trying to get revenge?"

"I didn't do that, Christine. Love, please listen to me," Raoul tried again. He wondered why this was so difficult. This wasn't how he had imagined telling her, not how he had imagined she would react.

"No. I told you to that I wasn't ready. I told you to give me time."

Raoul couldn't stand it. He finally raised his voice. "I did give you time. I gave you your space. I gave you everything, Christine. Everything!"

She actually looked surprised.

At a more level voice, he said, "And I didn't search for him."

"I don't care," Christine's voice was tense, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why?" Raoul looked towards the den and hesitated when he saw the door ajar. Although he couldn't see anyone there, he was certain that he hadn't left the door open. "I… I thought you might want to speak with him."

"Speak with him?" She shook her head, "I already chose."

Raoul couldn't help but laugh at that statement.

"What?" She looked furious, "You don't believe me? I chose you, Raoul."

"Did you?" He decided confronting her now was better than leaving things unsaid. It would probably be a while before he would be able to speak with her again. He needed her to know how he felt, "Did you really? Because right now I don't see us married. I love you, Christine. More than you seem to want to accept, but honestly, I don't think you really chose me. If you did, then perhaps you should finish things with the ghost completely so that we'll finally be able to move on. Because what we're doing, what we have been doing isn't right. We…"

"I don't know what you're talking about. The only person wrong right now is you. I want to move on, Raoul. I want to and you can't seem to do that. You keep pulling me back. I never want to see the opera ghost again!" She yelled. "He's a monster!" She ran down the flight of stairs. Raoul chased after her for only a few steps before stopping.

The front door opened and slammed shut.

Raoul slumped down onto the steps, burying his face in his hands. Why had he thought things would be different? If anything, he had just made things worse.

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End Chapter 08

Word count: 3,180

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

Chapter review: What is Christine's problem? We'll find out sooner or later.