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: So, this is the only fic I'm working on now and it's kind of odd actually. I finally have down time. However, if you've been following the calendar, you'd realize that this is the last chapter before my vacation. :D So, this'll have to last you a couple of weeks.

Story Note: I am /so/ mean to Raoul here that I feel bad about myself. T.T

Check the calendar for (supposed) fic posting dates, link in my profile.

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Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 17 - … to despise

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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"Don't follow," Erik ground out, placing his weight completely on Raoul for a second, waiting to see if he would react. However, the body beneath him had already stopped struggling. With no small amount of disappointment, Erik released him, retreating to his bedroom.

Crossing the threshold, he'd almost wanted to slam the door shut; he had a feeling it would've felt very satisfying to do so. However, he couldn't bring himself to do it. That door had never been closed since the day Raoul had surprised him with the transformed den. For some reason, that meant something to him even if he refused to acknowledge it.

After that last command had left his mouth, he'd stopped feeling so angry with the blonde and instead became angry with himself. He'd lost his temper, and he was actually rather surprised that Raoul had come out of that disagreement relatively unharmed. The violence, the urge to hurt for transgressions was there, right below the surface of calm. He hadn't even realized that it had been there. He'd… he scoffed, he'd actually thought that along with Raoul, he'd somehow changed as well. That was all an illusion; he'd proven that already.

He didn't, rather couldn't regret attacking Raoul. That moment had helped to clear his mind. It helped remind him who he really was and what he had to do. He had to leave Raoul, and what better way than to leave the Vicomte defeated?

It was the perfect justification, and yet, he was still frustrated. He didn't understand his own reactions and couldn't stop his actions. He'd begun pacing, not in order to release some of the excess energy of such a strong emotion, but so that he'd have a reason to pass the door and not seem so obvious that he was constantly looking in on the blonde.

Raoul had dragged himself fully onto the bed, and that was the best way that Erik could describe it, dragged – all that energy he'd seen in the past few weeks had simply disappeared with one confrontation. It wasn't promising. From his vantage point, he couldn't tell if Raoul was actually asleep. He'd have to get closer to check, and he was not about to step foot into that room again tonight. It would undermine his threat and his resolve to leave the house without speaking to him again.

Without the blinding rage he'd felt earlier, he could actually determine the original source of his ire. Raoul didn't care if he stayed or left. That was why he was angry. The boy didn't appreciate everything he'd done for him, all the work and time they'd spent erasing Christine from his life, and the blonde wasn't even going to protest him leaving.

Of course, Raoul's reaction made sense, which was why Erik was now angry with himself instead. It didn't matter that there'd been an extra desk or an extra bed. The Vicomte had probably done it all for his comfort so that Erik would be distracted, so that they'd stop having to share a room or sleep on the floor. The Vicomte had done all of those things in order to save himself the hassle of day to day living with Erik.

His attitude and Erik's subsequent response were all just indications that Erik should leave already. He'd overstayed his welcome. This household, this very room, as much as it seemed like his own, was not where he was supposed to be. That feeling of biding his time and waiting for the right moment to search for Christine had finally arrived.

He was leaving; yet, he was also returning, which was another thing he wondered about. The only reason he was leaving for the opera house was so that he could retrieve a mask. Everything else there could be left behind. So, why didn't he pack his clothing now, stop by the opera house, and then leave to search for Christine? He didn't need to return to the Chagny estate.

In the beginning, it had been because he'd wanted to make certain that it was indeed the right time to leave, to ensure that Raoul had in fact gotten over Christine completely.

There was no reason now since it was obvious that Raoul was doing well on his own.

However, when the darkness of night was deep enough, Erik hadn't moved a finger to begin packing his clothing or finish the other necessary preparations. He left with every intention to return once he was done. He wouldn't even be gone very long. He'd return and Raoul would still probably be in bed just sleeping as though Erik hadn't disrupted their daily routine by leaving the estate. He wasn't sure whether he'd be pleased to see such a reaction or further annoyed.

Deciding he could just find out later, he put on his cloak and forced himself not to glance into Raoul's room one more time as he strode purposefully out of the room; he didn't want to see the blonde sleeping soundly, didn't want to be affected by his unconcern.

o.o.o

Once Raoul had settled himself in the bed, he closed his eyes in a poor mimicry of sleep. He was tired, but his mind refused to allow him actual sleep. No matter what he tried all he could do was listen to the footsteps of the man in the room beside his own, or rather, in his old bedroom. Every now and then, he peeked through half-lidded eyes towards the other room just to watch Erik pacing in and out of his sight.

He knew the ghost was waiting to leave for the night, but he didn't want to think about that. As much as he repeated to himself that he'd be able to find someone else to help him with these bouts of loneliness, he couldn't actually believe it. He didn't even understand why it was so difficult now. It wasn't as though he'd never been alone before. There was a time before Erik, before Christine, and he'd been happy. He just couldn't see how that was possible anymore, knowing what it felt like to love so completely and feel loved, knowing companionship and silent understanding. How could he be happy knowing that there was something more out there for him?

Life had been nice with Erik. It had been awkward at first, but despite Erik's constant barbs and criticisms, there was something about his presence that was comforting. Erik had been left behind as well; he knew everything that had happened with Christine. Raoul had never needed to explain or go through the effort of revealing their convoluted past or try to explain why things had ended as they had even when he didn't understand it himself. He'd never be able to have the same relationship with anyone else.

However, he'd been resigned enough to prepare for his departure, and now, he wasn't sure he should have prepared. Maybe he should have asked the ghost to stay. He could still do so actually, but that errant thought couldn't be taken seriously. There'd been numerous errant thoughts that he'd had to discount on a regular basis nowadays, so it wasn't difficult to close his eyes and ignore that particular thought. The difficult thing to do was to focus on something other than Erik.

The ghost had and would always love Christine. Yet, the newfound cynical part of Raoul's mind told him that he'd thought the same thing about himself. He thought that he'd always love Christine. That had been proven false, so maybe it could be false for Erik as well.

However, such thoughts made him wonder if it really was Erik that he wanted. Was it the connection, the understanding, the constant presence, or actually the man himself? Raoul wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

It didn't matter though, he realized as he watched Erik put on his cloak and leave. It wasn't his decision to make.

Such things took too much energy any way. They took too much effort, and it was easier to just wait to see what would happen. The ghost would return and then, he'd leave again. Then, Raoul would be alone again – everyone left him.

Raoul knew what to do this time though. He would get rid of all of the things that reminded him of Erik, and then, he'd find someone else to occupy his time with. That's what he had learned, right? That was why the ghost had stayed so long. He'd stayed to ensure Raoul would learn that particular lesson, and he refused to disappoint him in that aspect.

For a brief moment as he watched the door shutting, he wondered if he could fake not having improved just so that Erik would stay. However, that was one of those errant thoughts that he simply let fade.

He waited only a few seconds after the front door closed before getting up himself. He threw the blankets aside and stood bedside, uncertain what to do next. He'd simply known that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon.

Eye catching a candle that Erik had left on in his room, he wandered over. It wasn't really his room anymore. He could tell that someone else had been living there. There were two sets of clothing and as fastidious as the ghost was sometimes, he hardly cared about where he placed already used clothing. Some shirts were haphazardly thrown on the chair. Erik refused to allow anyone to touch his things until absolutely necessary, so the maids did the bare minimum in terms of cleaning the room.

The door to the armoire was partially ajar and Raoul opened it further. Staring at the coats and jackets, he was surprised. He hadn't realized how much clothing he'd bought Erik. They rarely went outside; he didn't know why the other man would possibly need so much clothing, but it had all seemed so necessary at the time.

He reached up to grab a sleeve of a jacket just feeling the material. He realized belatedly that there was no real order to the clothes; they were all mixed together. It wasn't difficult to see whose was whose though; the dimensions were different enough to notice. His mind finally blissfully blank, he separated the ghost's clothing to one side of the armoire.

Once everything was in order, he looked at his handiwork and closed the doors before moving towards the bed. The covers were still immaculately in place, but he'd known Erik hadn't bothered to rest. Still, he smoothed the blankets from imaginary wrinkles.

Still not remotely tired, Raoul wandered out of the room, making sure not to make too much noise. He didn't bother bringing a candle with him. He knew his home well enough to be able to navigate it without. He bypassed Christine's old room without a glance before heading towards their den. He didn't plan on getting any work done, didn't even pretend to try to be productive. He walked directly to Erik's desk. The desk was always meticulously kept. It was almost humorous just how everything had its place.

Flipping through some of the designs that were in a neat pile to the side, Raoul already knew what he was looking for. There was only one blueprint that he'd ever considered using. Erik's improvements upon the Chagny estate were usually too far-fetched. He didn't want to have to worry about traps in his household. Knowing him, he'd probably set them all off, but perhaps, that's what Erik had wanted in the first place.

He pulled out the one in particular that had always caught his eye. Even in the darkness, it was distinctive. It was the extension to the house for an organ. A music room. Raoul sighed. He'd considered asking some of his people to look at this. It was plausible, but pointless really. Raoul didn't play any instruments. He had neither the talent nor patience to learn an instrument when he could just as easily sing.

It really had been the thought of Erik's look of surprise that always made him consider it though. He was certain it would have been just like when he'd shown him the room. He would've loved to see that expression one more time. However, he wasn't going to get the chance. Erik was going to find Christine. He didn't know why it was so hard for him to understand.

Tired of being reminded of things that weren't going to happen, Raoul headed out of the den. Passing Erik's chair, he paused when he saw the outline of a book left on it. On impulse, Raoul grabbed it before heading down stairs to go to the sitting room.

Hesitating only a moment, he decided to start the fire in the fireplace. He knew he should try to go back to sleep, but the weight of the book in his hand convinced him otherwise. Once the fire was going and the room lit up more, he looked at the book in his hands. L'Homme Qui Rit. It was the one that Erik constantly read when they were outside. He didn't think the man would have wanted to be reminded of his past, but perhaps there was something more to it than he truly remembered. It had been years since he'd last read it.

So, he settled in the chair closest to the fire and decided to re-read it.

o.o.o

The sound of the front door closing jerked Raoul out of sleep. He looked around in confusion before remembering that he'd fallen asleep shortly after finishing the book. His neck hurt a little at having fallen asleep in the chair, but he was more interested in what had woken him. The sun wasn't up just yet, so he knew that he couldn't have been asleep for very long at all, and waking up now only made him feel even more fatigued. He'd gotten too used to sleeping normally that his body was unused to what once had been common bouts of insomnia. It was as though he was back at square one since Christine had left, like every happy thought, smile, and laugh since then had been erased and only the exhaustion remained to keep him company.

Twisting his neck to try to stretch the soreness, he placed the book down in the seat as he stood up. He headed towards the door but before he even made it two steps from his seat, someone entered the sitting room. He'd been prepared to ask if Erik had found what he'd been looking for. He'd had it all planned out, from the words to the way he would say it. Even though he was unenthusiastic about his departure, Raoul didn't want to seem downright rude. He'd just been acting foolishly before.

However, it wasn't Erik who was standing there.

"Christine?"

"Raoul." She looked at him with open surprise, eyes taking everything in from his disheveled appearance to the dark circles beneath his eyes that indicated he hadn't slept much of anything the night before. She even caught the bruises on his arms since the sleeves of his nightshirt stopped three-quarters of the way down.

Her eyes filled with something that might have been compassion, but Raoul couldn't be certain for sure. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep it from his face. It was the safest action, since he wasn't sure how he should react to her presence. He was almost tempted to just lash out at her. He wanted to scream and hurt her like she had hurt him, but that would simply be hasty on his part if he did so.

He asked without pretense, "What are you doing here?"

"I came back," Christine started, taking a step closer to him. "I want to…" she shook her head, "need to… Can we talk, Raoul?"

His immediate answer was no, but after wanting to speak with her for so long and never being able to, Raoul reluctantly offered her a seat.

Sitting rather stiffly, she began, "I've been travelling, seeing whatever of the world I could."

Raoul looked at her unimpressed. If she came just to tell him that she'd travelled, then he didn't know what she wanted from him.

Seeing that he was not going to ask about where or what she'd done, she gave a curt nod of understanding. He wasn't going to pretend to be interested. "I've changed," she said instead.

He looked at her and could almost agree. She had. Her voice was different, maybe a little more serious, more direct. She dressed differently as well. Her clothes were a little more conservative but from the looks of it seemed rather expensive. He wouldn't be surprised if she told him it was the newest fashion.

"You've done well for yourself," he commented, keeping his voice neutral.

Hesitating for a moment, Christine nodded. "Yes." She smiled sadly. "You see, I've had a lot of time to think and to try to figure out what I want."

Raoul nodded though he didn't how long he could actually listen to her speak. He hadn't taken a seat, had instead chosen to stand practically across the room just so that it would ease the desire to physically harm her. That hold he'd had with her memory seemed to be slipping. Seeing her made him want to confront her about their past. It made him want to yell and grab her by the shoulders to shake her. It made him angry and sad, but since he somehow managed to suppress all those emotions, he was just tired. He wanted to escort her out of his house, but couldn't bring himself to be that rude to a woman he once loved, though that feeling had long since changed.

She actually looked apologetic as she said, "You don't look well."

Raoul sighed. "I didn't sleep well."

"Oh," Christine replied, although it was obvious she didn't actually believe him. After an awkward moment of silence, she uttered, "I'm so sorry, Raoul."

That caught him off guard. He hadn't expected an apology, and after the shock wore off, he became suspicious. "Why?"

"For everything," she said with a heavy sigh, "I didn't see what you'd been offering."

For a frightening moment, Raoul wondered if she had come back in hopes that she wanted to find a way to make their relationship work again. He had to be fooling himself though; it had to be one of those errant thoughts. However, her next words made him freeze.

Shaking her head, she looked at him with wide eyes, "All that I've done to you. I hope that you can put it behind us so that perhaps you could, well, we could…"

Raoul raised his hand to stop her attempt at finding the right words. He tried to hide his disbelief but simply refused to listen to her any longer. Christine needed to get out of his house. He didn't want to see her as anything but someone from his past. She was only an old friend, an old crush, an old flame. All things in the past. His future whether or not he forgave her had nothing to do with her directly. He didn't want it.

"Where are you staying in Paris?" Raoul asked, ready to call his carriage to drive her there.

Christine looked hurt for a second before her expression hardened, determination erasing her immediate reaction. "Raoul, I want to talk about this now. I will not let it be pushed aside."

He was almost impressed. She was indeed more forceful. She must have grown up, matured. She must have realized that her inability to decide or be firm about a decision tended to cause more harm than being upfront about her desires.

"Raoul." She looked him directly in the eyes, and he knew she was serious. She really wasn't going to leave, and then another errant thought crossed his mind – it wouldn't be too bad that she had come back if he was going to be alone again. Someone, even Christine, was better than no one, right?

Allowing that thought to fade, he replied, "I simply wish to rest for a bit before I have to work for the day, Christine. You understand it was still rather early. You've interrupted my sleep."

She stood up. "You said you weren't sleeping."

"I said I was having difficulty sleeping," Raoul retorted.

They stared each other down for a moment. He didn't know who this person was anymore. It looked like Christine and even sounded like her, but her personality was so different, different even from the person she'd been before she left.

She looked a bit tired herself, but she'd said she'd been travelling, so that wasn't a surprise. She was a little more tan and that youthfulness that had once clung to her, making her look even younger and more innocent than what she'd been, was leaving. She was a woman. A stranger, and that helped his resolve with trying to make her leave.

"I'm not staying anywhere," she admitted, looking away, "I'd rather hoped that after our talk I wouldn't need to worry about accommodations."

Raoul's eyes widened a fraction before he shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't sure he could believe that this was happening. Christine had come to him, had spoken to him.

"I refuse to leave," she stated what he already knew.

He was speechless for a moment but knew he had to say something. He had to somehow convince her to leave, but having an argument right now seemed too arduous a task. "Christine. Leave, please. It is inappropriate for you to be here."

She was quick to reply, "It's inappropriate for you to kick me out at this hour."

Hoping that actions would prove to her that he was serious on the matter, he simply turned his back on her and headed out of the room. It was also the easier thing to do. Maybe if he left, she would simply leave as well.

She jogged to catch up, and they stopped near the front door. "Raoul. I will not be ignored." She grabbed his arm and he shrugged her off easily. She was surprised by the action.

"There's nothing I want to do with you." He said as harshly as he could manage before inclining his head towards the door, saying, "Leave."

"Please," she caught his arm again and Raoul didn't shrug her off. He didn't see the point. He wouldn't cave into her whims, but he could almost, in the far distant reaches of his mind, remember who he'd loved even if this woman before him was nothing like her. She pleaded, "Forgive me just long enough to answer one question."

Raoul felt some of his resolve crumbling when that strong woman façade seemed to drop for an instant and she was just Little Lotte again. He wondered if she was in trouble, wondered if he really could do something for her.

He nodded even though he was afraid of what he'd agree to in this state. If only Erik hadn't just left a few hours ago, this wouldn't have been a problem at all. What energy he had was gone with that struggle earlier, his resolve crumbling under the idea that he'd be alone again, and here was Christine begging for his attention and touching him, actually touching him. Maybe… he didn't know what he wanted. He didn't love her anymore, but she didn't have to know that.

He waited to hear her question, holding his breath.

She gave him a tremulous smile before asking, "Do you know where the phantom is?"

Raoul stared at her not able to comprehend her question for long moments. When he finally could react, he flinched as though physically struck and pulled away from her. "What?"

"I've been looking for him," she explained, not meeting his eyes. She looked off to the side with a disheartened expression, eyes distant.

Raoul backed slowly away from her. He didn't feel well. A stabbing pain behind his left eye made him tilt his head downward and shut his eyes. He raised his hand to press against his closed eye in hopes to relieve some of the pain. His back hit a wall and he steadied himself on it. His throat felt dry and he was unsure if he wasn't simply dreaming this encounter, just another odd nightmare to add to the growing list.

She asked again, still lost in her own thoughts, "Do you know where he went? I couldn't find him."

He laughed. It sounded desperate even to his own ears. Christine finally snapped out of her own world, almost as surprised by the sound as Raoul was himself. He didn't know what had come over him.

She looked at him worriedly. "Raoul?"

He looked at her face and smiled bitterly, shaking his head.

She was here for Erik.

He couldn't believe that he'd actually thought otherwise.

And Erik. He didn't know what to think. Maybe the other man had this all planned out. It made sense. It explained why Erik had stayed as long as he had. All some sort of plot as a final test to see whether Raoul would chase after her or try to convince her not to look for him.

Erik left for one night and suddenly Christine showed up? It seemed too much of a coincidence. The ghost had to have somehow kept in contact with her. It wouldn't be difficult. Even though they were together all the time, when they worked, Raoul rarely gave a second thought to what Erik was doing. He assumed it was another project or design. After all, the man was private in general. Raoul could only see a work after it was completely finished.

It wouldn't be that much of a surprise to find that maybe this had been what Erik had had in mind when he said that he'd had plan to 'help' him. He just wanted to give her time to do whatever she pleased, to 'travel' or find herself, whatever she had been talking about earlier. Erik would keep her a safe distance away while he made sure that Raoul wouldn't even hope to find or chase her. He would get close to him and break down his walls just so that it was easier to hurt him enough to warn him against ever following them.

The ghost had succeeded. Raoul never wanted to see either of them again. He didn't want to follow, didn't want to even think about them. It hurt too much to. He was feeling ill again. He pressed his hand to his forehead again as the stabbing pain persisted. After a second of intense concentration, the pain went away and he could finally look at Christine again.

Fighting against the truth of what was happening actually hurt. It wasn't as though there was a reason to fight anymore. This was what he'd expected the first time he'd allowed Erik to speak with Christine. Things had changed again. His world had somehow shifted back to the way it had been before his time with Erik. He wanted to laugh knowing that he wasn't able to cry at the loss. Instead, he decided that he needed the same resolve, the same resignation as he'd had before.

"Are you alright?" She asked tentatively, hand reaching out towards him but stopping herself.

Raoul pushed off the wall and smiled. Christine was actually a little frightened by how manic that smile seemed.

"I'm fine Christine." He was only a little surprised to find his voice completely even, calm, but more importantly, it had sounded like the truth. "I… I've never been better." Getting a sudden idea, Raoul asked as though it were obvious, "Why don't you stay for the night and rest up for a bit? We can talk once you wake." He nodded, rather pleased with the idea suddenly.

Actually afraid to see how Raoul would react if she disagreed, Christine nodded.

"Your old room is gone," Raoul said blithely. With a wave of his hand as though it were nothing, he plunged ahead, the words coming out before he allowed himself to think about it. The irony was simply too much for him. He wanted to destroy all his thoughts, expectations. He wanted to destroy everything he'd held dear in the past few days. With a cheerful tone, he offered, "You know where my room is, right? You can sleep in that bed."

"But…" she tried to protest. She wasn't sure this was a good idea anymore, but this had been the last place the phantom had been. This had been her main hope of finding him. Raoul was frightening her though.

"Don't worry. I haven't really been sleeping there," he said, grin still in place, attitude cavalier. "No one slept there last night either and someone should use it, just make sure to close that adjoining door for some privacy."

"But. How about you?" She asked, completely uncertain with how to react. She'd never seen Raoul like this before, and she didn't know what to expect from him. She just knew that she didn't want to disagree and find out what would happen if she did. He'd never been this unpredictable in the past.

"Don't be absurd. I'll be fine." He said, still for all appearances, in good spirits. He headed out of the house as though their conversation were done even though Christine was still standing uncertainly beside him.

"Raoul," she called after him when he was practically out the door. She just barely was able to react to his sudden decision to leave.

"Just rest for now," Raoul said with a smile that should have been reassuring but simply looked out of place as he walked out of the house.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 17

Word count: 4,984

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)! Going on a hiatus.

Chapter review: Christine's back? That's just wrong. And Raoul? Mental breakdown? T.T I'm so mean to him.