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: Apologize for the late post (again). I fell into a short coma. =3

Story note: What? A no-Raoul chapter? What madness?

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Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 10 - … to part

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Erik sat in the Vicomte's chair in the den, his elbows on the desk, face buried in his hands. It was late into the night already, but he was wide-awake. The moon shone through the window, lighting it more than the single candle he had taken the effort to light did. Much of the house was cast in darkness – mostly because Erik was more comfortable in the dark since he didn't have his mask. Letting out a sigh, he tried to calm his beating heart. Somehow, waiting for her to return right now was worse than the anticipation he had felt earlier.

It was probably because so much had changed since then. Christine's severity and the Vicomte's resigned helpfulness had changed the dynamic of their connection to each other. It was already obvious, had been obvious, that the Vicomte's and Christine's relationship had changed. They weren't as sickeningly in love with each other as they had once been. Well, admittedly, he could still see remnants of the lovesick boy in Raoul, but he hadn't even seen a glimpse of that old Christine when they had been talking earlier.

He could grudgingly admit that his and the Vicomte's relationship had changed as well – given the opportunity, Erik might actually hesitate in killing the blonde. The Vicomte had already proven that he would hesitate in killing him.

Now, that left one conclusion. His and Christine's relationship would have changed as well. Isn't that what he wanted though? The change that let them be together. Who knew what change would occur though? He could only wait, but he'd been waiting for so long now. He was almost beginning to think that the Vicomte had lied to him about her returning, and instead of leaving the house to him, the blonde had gone after her himself.

Yet, Erik couldn't see that happening. He was almost certain that the man was still on the estate somewhere. When he'd finally come back to himself after having the Vicomte walk out on him, he'd looked down the driveway and didn't see anyone leave the estate. It didn't matter where the Vicomte was though, Erik reminded himself. All that mattered was that he wasn't here right now and the fact that neither was Christine.

Sighing for what felt like the tenth time in the past few seconds, he knew he shouldn't have decided to sit down. He hadn't even been sitting for very long. He'd spent the time after the Vicomte's departure walking through the man's house to distract himself from the nervous anticipation that had immediately begun to build at the thought that he would speak with Christine and be able to take her away from here. He found that he desperately needed the distraction from his racing thoughts.

At first, he'd been cautious, not wanting to have to deal with the blonde's servants. After all, he was a stranger in the house, not to mention the fact that he had no mask. Surely, there would be some problems if anyone saw him. However, as he walked, he noticed that no one was in the house ay longer. He could see signs of people having left in the middle of their duties not so much in a rush, but without any regard of finishing.

He knew that only the Vicomte could have done something. Erik was rather appreciative of the gesture but didn't dwell on that feeling towards the Vicomte. He continued his exploration of the house, room by room at first trying to think of what he was going to say to Christine before deciding that his thoughts always circling back to taking her by force was no longer productive. Force should be the last option, considering how effective force had been that first time.

Regardless of what she'd said, he could still believe that she might go with him willingly. She probably only said such things in front of the Vicomte, said only because she wanted to prove a point. She didn't mean it. She couldn't mean it because this was their first real chance to be together. There was no opera house to distract her. The Vicomte had stepped aside. There was absolutely no one else to meddle or interrupt them.

The Vicomte had arranged all of it. And that was also bothersome. Accepting this kindness even when he knew of the blonde's ulterior motives didn't sit well with him. In fact, when he wasn't thinking of Christine, his thoughts tended to drift towards the Vicomte.

The man was annoying at best. He wanted to be kind to Erik, and that was simply not right. Erik didn't want to think of the blonde, but the fact was that he couldn't help it. He was surrounded by everything that the Vicomte owned. Erik had looked through all the portraits. He did have to admit that it had been a good distraction. He even went so far as to look through the drawers, moving things around to make a point that he was not some houseguest. However, he didn't think he could possibly annoy the Vicomte. The man's reactions earlier convinced Erik that the blonde wouldn't even care.

The lovesick boy was strangely apathetic when confronted. His voice was resigned when he spoke, as though getting the words out took that much effort. What had the boy admitted so easily though? 'It was nice to have someone.' Did the Vicomte really mean him when he'd said those words? It was strange to hear, even stranger that he could almost understand the sentiment. That was what Christine was to him. That someone.

The sound of the door opening drew him out of his musings.

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Christine entered the house slowly.

It was rather dark and quiet. It seemed that the servants were all asleep. Only a few of the candles were lit. If it weren't for the moon outside and her familiarity with the house, she would have not been able to navigate her way to the stairs. She paused at the bottom of the stairway and closed her eyes, listening to see if anyone were still awake.

She'd made certain to stay out as late as possible, hoping that Raoul would deal with the ghost in the mean time. If he weren't lying of course. The ghost in the house? The idea was absurd. The more she'd had time to think about it the more she was certain he'd been lying. Why would the ghost stay in the house? Raoul and the ghost hated each other, didn't they? It made no sense. The only reason that she could think of that Raoul would tell such a lie would be to force them into an early marriage. She wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Not hearing anything, she headed up the stairs. So focused on not tripping on the next step, it wasn't until she was halfway up the stairs before she realized that someone was standing at the top. Sighing, Christine didn't hide her annoyance, glad that it was dark enough for her not to have to hide it. She just wanted to go to sleep right now.

Assuming it was Raoul, she shook her head. "Not right now, Raoul. I'm too tired to deal with you."

Erik raised an eyebrow, still a little surprised at the tone she took with the Vicomte. He cleared his throat. Even in the dark, he could see her expression. He still couldn't understand why she would act this way towards the Vicomte. She was returning to his house. He pushed those thoughts away.

It seemed that the boy knew her well enough to know she would return no matter what sort of argument they had. Could Erik say the same thing? If he and Christine were to fight, he would not let her leave from his side. Otherwise, he would fear she would leave and never return.

The Vicomte even knew her patterns. He'd been patient. Erik was not a patient man. He wouldn't coddle her. Perhaps, that was exactly what she needed.

"Hello, Christine."

Christine stopped walking and retreated several steps back. When Erik walked forward, Christine retreated all the way to the bottom of the stairs, stumbling along the way. It was only her death grip on the banister that kept her upright.

"You," she said accusingly. Erik could almost dare call it hatred, but decided that was simply his imagination.

Christine looked around frantically. The door was behind her, but she wasn't going to risk leaving the safety of a house that had several things at hand that she could throw. Outside, she was fairly certain that the ghost would easily be able to catch up to her.

"What did you do to Raoul?" She maneuvered herself so that she could run through the dining room if Erik moved too close.

Erik frowned and stepped forward. Her gasp told him that she had finally seen his face. He'd forgotten that he'd been maskless when she walked into the house. He'd forgotten that she would react to his face; he might have actually grown accustomed to the Vicomte's non-reaction to not only his nudity but also his face. It was sad that he couldget a reaction from her without effort when he couldn't get a reaction from the Vicomte when he wanted it.

He briefly wondered why he was thinking of the Vicomte at a time like this before focusing his entire attention on Christine. At least she hadn't screamed. She wasn't fainting either, so perhaps she only reacted because it had been a while since she had last seen his face.

She'd touched it. Kissed him even. She could learn not to react every time.

He answered her, "I did nothing to the Vicomte."

She practically spat at him, "Liar. Raoul would never let you near me."

"Your precious Vicomte," Erik was annoyed to note that there wasn't enough malice in the supposed insult, "is the one who suggested we speak. Do you not remember?"

She refused to believe what he said, but could think of nothing to reply. His very presence made her want to run. This was what she had wanted to avoid. This man was poison. He would suffocate and kill her. She had given him all she could have before she left. She knew that now. There was nothing else she could give him.

"We can go now," Erik tried to make her understand, his tone of voice turned soothing. Surely, she could see now that they were free to escape from everything. He could take her away from her past. If that was Raoul's problem, then he would be able to remedy it. "We can leave Paris. We can leave France. We can go anywhere you want."

She shook her head resolutely, eyes not quite meeting his. "I'm not going with you."

Erik stared at her in disbelief. She wasn't happy with her life with the Vicomte; that much was obvious. "Why? Why don't you want to go with me? Is it because of this?" He indicated his deformity.

Her eyes actually softened with something Erik would have called pity. "No. It's not because of that."

"Then why?" He moved closer and she stepped back in response. Seeing her do so made something within his chest seize. He was no better than the Vicomte.

"You terrorize. You kidnap. You murder." Her voice rose with each example.

Erik defensively answered, "It was all for you. For your future."

"No," she replied immediately, "It was for yourself."

Erik couldn't stand where their conversation was heading, so he changed the focus. "Do you really care for this Vicomte?"

Christine recognized the deflection for what it was. "I cared for you once. I cried for you. I can't give you more."

Erik couldn't believe what he was hearing. In fact, he refused to believe it. Somehow, this was all the Vicomte's fault; he just couldn't figure out how just yet. The boy had been with him all this time. He couldn't have coached Christine, and what he'd seen in the hallway hadn't seemed orchestrated. The boy looked tired. Erik was certain he knew what that looked like after having been with the blonde two whole days.

"And the kiss? Did that mean nothing to you?" He pressed. Everything felt as though it were spiraling out of control. Out of his control. Right now, they were supposed to be leaving this place, this estate, away from it all so that he and Christine could start anew. She somehow felt further from him right now than she had ever felt before in his life.

Christine actually approached him. She smiled sadly and reached out. This time Erik was the one to flinch away. Pulling her hand back, she looked at it. "That…" her voice was soft, barely audible, but in the silence of the empty household, it sounded much too loud to his ears. "That was all I could give you. I can't love you. Could never. Not after everything you've done."

She tried to make him understand that she knew all too well that with Erik's personality, with his obsession, she would eventually be consumed. She would lose herself and lose everything she'd gained from the experience at the opera house. She knew that now. As alluring as her Angel of Music was, he was just as dangerous. It was dangerous to lose herself in that illusion.

It all came down to those illusions she had been building ever since she'd been a child. She was tired of illusions, tired of believing in angels sent by her father, of loves that lasted forever. Those illusions had burned as the opera house had, leaving a shell, one that still needed time to be rebuilt. If she went with the opera ghost now, she'd have no hope of having the life she wanted, the one that she had been gradually been building up with her own strength.

Erik recoiled, as though he had been physically assaulted. She said she couldn't love him. Could fear not turn to love?

"But I love you," Erik admitted, hoping to make her understand that his wasn't some obsession. He truly loved her. "Together we can go to any opera and build a new life. You can be the prima donna anywhere."

Instead of seeing her smile as he expected her to, she grimaced and looked at him in disbelief. "What can I say to make you understand?"

"Understand what, Christine?" He almost yelled but caught himself. His whole body was tense as he held himself back from approaching her. Why didn't she understand that after everything that had happened, they needed to be together?

She opened and closed her mouth several times before simply saying, "I chose."

And Erik reached the end of his patience at those two small words. He thought back to the defeat in Raoul's posture, the nervousness in just confronting her. It had taken the Vicomte two days to build up the courage to speak with her, to find her. She lived in his house, ate his food, ordered his servants around, and still refused to marry him. How was that her choosing? He let out a bark of laughter so loud that she started in surprise.

"You haven't chosen, dearest angel," his endearment for her was spoken sarcastically. "You will choose now. I am not the Vicomte. I will not let you just say the words."

Apparently, he had said the wrong thing. Her shoulders straightened and she finally looked him truly in the eyes. Her expression hardened and she sneered.

Erik stared at her, as though this were truly the first time he were seeing her.

"I told you good-bye," she stated firmly.

He smirked. He heard the words and still didn't care. Even though he didn't know this person who was currently standing in front of him, he did know that he would have her. She looked like Christine. He didn't care if she didn't sound or act like her.

He reached out. Grabbing her arm before she could dodge, he yanked her towards the door. Christine screamed, but instead of allowing him to drag her away waiting for someone to save her, as she would have done in the past, she grabbed the nearest item she could reach and swung it at Erik.

Unfortunately for him, that item happened to be iron lamp. As it connected with his head solidly, his head snapped to the side. He released her arm and fell to the floor unconscious. Christine didn't bother looking back as she ran out of the house. All her things were inside still, but she didn't care. She didn't know when or if she would return. All she knew was that she had to leave.

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End Chapter 10

Word count: 2,803

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

Chapter review: Hahaha. I just realized Erik was hit in the head a second time.