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: Finally got this done. Finally.

Story Note: I really need to stop doing this to Raoul. I call this one the "everyone's thinking way too much" chapter. Revelations, delusions, and a new coping mechanism is found.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 20 - … to cry

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

At first, Raoul had been left alone; that had been fine with him. He hadn't the strength to form coherent thought, hadn't the strength to move from his spot even after everything had fallen silent, the horse hooves and creak of wheels long gone.

It was only when the sun had hit his eyes, further exacerbating his headache, did his servants try to speak with him. They blocked his view of the path before him, crouched down and tried to convince him to move out of the sunlight and into the house so that he would not become ill. Raoul simply pushed their voices out of his mind, ignored them completely. He let himself not see, not hear anything. They weren't the one's he wanted to see, theirs wasn't the voice he wanted to hear.

Now that Erik wasn't beside him making snide remarks, Raoul couldn't believe just how much he missed the other man's voice. He couldn't believe how silent, even with the birds chirping loudly and the trees rustling in the hot breeze, it could be. No, not silence; it wasn't quiet. There was a void, an emptiness that ate away at him.

Sometimes he could swear the breeze brought with it their voices, their conversations, but he knew that to be impossible. He could still hear voices though. Not Erik's or Christine's of course. Christine's voice was light, though that was not exactly true. Her voice had become something dark, angry near the end. Always angry with him. And, Erik's had gone from that deep terrible voice that promised of pain to something else, mocking then angry.

At some point, he must have closed his eyes because he could catch those brief glimpses of voices as fragments of thoughts in his mind's eye. He knew that somewhere outside of his mind, outside of the fact that he'd been left alone again there were people who might actually be concerned about him, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care. He was alone.

"Shouldn't we…?" "We can't…"

Their sentences became phrases. His mind processed the bare minimum, a selective process that Raoul wasn't really controlling because if he had been, he would have shut out the familiar voices completely.

"Inside? …tried…" "He's not…"

He didn't know what the criteria for the words were, but they were disrupting his thoughts nonetheless. He worked harder to ignore them. Couldn't he just be given some time to sit here?

"… never liked her…" "…listening…" "Not that it matters…"

He realized dimly that the words were echoing his thoughts. They were echoing his failure, echoing words that he wanted to say aloud but didn't allow himself to.

"We could try…"

No, it wasn't that he didn't allow himself.

"… can't…"

It was that he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough to say the words.

"… thought he was…" "… good for…"

Him. He was never strong enough.

Raoul wondered if the words were even being spoken aloud to begin with. Maybe they were really his own thoughts. It could be his voice, but…

"… hunt him…" "…bring him back…"

He couldn't recognize either way; it was as though he'd forgotten what he sounded like when he spoke. He couldn't identify the voices, make the connection of the feeling of familiarity to an actual person. He just knew that he would never be tenacious enough to say the words aloud – to speak it made it that much more real. It took too much effort to make thoughts words and words into actions. He was always stuck in that first step.

"… why?"

He was certain the sun had become brighter.

"… better this way…"

A way to measure distance. No. Raoul corrected himself.

"You think…?"

Just a way to measure time.

And then the voices left him alone again.

o.o.o

The travel was quiet. Christine hadn't expected anything else. The most words they'd shared in the past had always been at critical moments in their lives. No trivialities between them, just singing, orders, and those tense moments that shaped their lives at the opera house. Without any of that, she didn't quite know what to say. She wasn't going to ask about what he'd been doing because the last time they'd been together, she'd hit him over the head with a lamp before proceeding to leave him there, not knowing whether he was alive or dead. The bigger fear was that he might reciprocate and ask her – she wouldn't be able to answer the questions herself.

What she hadn't expected though was this heavy silence. She hadn't expected the ghost to be so obviously displeased with their current situation. Wasn't the whole point of choosing the ghost so that they could both have what they wanted?

It could simply be due to what had happened earlier, she reasoned.

To some degree, she had expected what had occurred at the Chagny estate. It was simply the old enmity between them finally coming to a conclusion. In fact, she had never gotten the chance to tell the ghost that she hadn't slept with Raoul. She attributed at least part of his anger to the fact that she'd been caught in the Vicomte's bed.

She'd tried to start a conversation several times; yet every time, the words died before they even came to be. Instead, she alternated between watching the landscape as they went further and further away from Paris and dozing. She needed to be prepared when the time came to find lodging. Rest had escaped her the past few days, and she knew she needed to be alert. The ghost couldn't do it for them and she wasn't even certain if he had thought to bring money or if they had any money at all. They might have to make a run for it early in the morning. It hadn't been that difficult when she was by herself. She doubted it would be difficult with the ghost. Her angel wouldn't slow her down; if anything, it would be the other way around.

Sometime near noon, they'd paused a short while in a field by a small lake. The horses were given a much needed rest and drink. The driver didn't speak to them, didn't even tell them how long they'd be stopping. Either way, Christine hadn't been able to stand the thought of spending the whole day sitting, so she'd exited the carriage.

The ghost didn't even acknowledge that they'd stopped. He only stared fixedly at the wall across from him, angry expression a clear sign that Christine should not bother him. So she hadn't; another change, another lesson she'd learned. Her curiosity was dangerous when left unchecked.

She stepped into the hot summer air and shaded her eyes. They were making really good progress. The further away from Paris the better – they needed to move as far away from their old life as possible. She wanted to forget all of it.

Christine couldn't help but wonder about the ghost, so lost in his thoughts and concentrated to the point of ignoring her. It was so similar to when he'd been composing at the organ after he'd taken her down to his home that first time. It was odd how she'd never seen him this focused – she tried to think of a time when he'd been this concentrated without music, but nothing came. Maybe it was because she'd never once again seen him unawares after that incident. He'd been cautious around her then, allowing her little freedom in her lessons or in any other of their interactions. This focus was even unlike the one at Don Juan. That had truly been focus, but it had bordered on desperation.

Shaking her head, she stopped thinking on it. She was certain that he would return to normal soon.

Her stomach growled loudly, but she ignored it easily. She had experienced worse than missing a meal, so didn't bother to mention anything, didn't even think to ask for them to stop anywhere, not when it would slow their progress. All she wanted was to get far, to keep moving further.

She hadn't been able to leave France in her own travels, had been too ill-equipped to do so, but now, she was beginning to think that outside of the country was a very good place to start anew. It would be perfect for them, new identities, new scenery, new people. Everything new.

o.o.o

"Vicomte."

The road that led up to his home. That's how he'd really only ever thought of it.

Even when Christine left him. It had been a road to his home that she was simply misusing.

"Monsieur Le Vicomte."

Now, it was a road that led people away. It was a path that was an escape for everyone. Empty, dusty, dark.

"Monsieur. You need to go inside."

It looked strange, like it was the first time he was ever really seeing his own estate. Had it always been this empty? This quiet? This lonely? And it felt like his estate extended to the horizon, continuing onward into the darkness.

Two servants came and grabbed an arm on each side, hauling Raoul to his feet. He didn't once glance at them or acknowledge their presence. Sharing a concerned look across their employer, the servants ushered Raoul into the sitting room.

A stranger to his own home, and yet, Raoul knew he didn't belong anywhere else. Or did he? He could still leave, find the edge of this estate. It really couldn't just keep going on forever.

They draped a blanket over his shoulders and started the fire even though the night was mild.

His head hurt thinking this much.

A damp rag was pressed into his hand and brought up to his face.

Oh yeah, Raoul mused lightly, it wasn't a headache. It was the bruise on his face that hurt. A parting gift, a way to remember that he was hurting for a reason. It had all been a plan and shockingly enough, it still made sense to him. Everything made sense now that he knew the truth of why Erik had stayed; that's what was making this more difficult. If he could fool himself into believing there had been something else there, then maybe he would have done something. Maybe. Or maybe not. It might have somehow hurt less. He wasn't sure.

It was a slight clinking sound that managed to snap him out of his musings. Raoul looked around in confusion. He noted the fireplace and the blanket around his shoulders. It was summertime. He shouldn't be this cold, but his body was shivering nonetheless.

o.o.o

Erik was fuming. The fedora was crumpled and twisted in his grasp. He couldn't think of anything but Raoul and his stupid expression, resigned. How did he have any right to be resigned when he was the one who had packed his luggage for him, when he'd been the one to chase them downstairs and give him this fedora? That was not resigned. That was eager. Said article of clothing was twisted into an unrecognizable ball of cloth before Erik forced himself to release it. He'd been staring at the damnable hat for hours now.

At first he'd been able to distract himself with the scenery outside, peeking through a mere sliver past the curtains when there had been people. It wasn't as though he could allow himself to be seen, but that proved to hardly be a problem since the driver took them through the countryside, avoiding the busy streets of Paris as much as he could. Once free from the city, Erik could only admit that he'd become more tense. He was leaving the life he knew… the Opera Populaire of course. He refused to note the fact that his life hadn't been at the Opera Populaire for months now. So, he'd tried to content himself with staring outside, but all those trees and open land only served to remind him of the Changy estate. The place was following him.

His mind kept returning to the point where Christine had told him to stop. He'd been ready to go and she'd been the one to stop him – only because of his face, he reminded himself, but Raoul had come then as well not to stop him but to wish him farewell. Why did that seem wrong?

Now that he thought about it, Raoul had looked ready to say something to him before stopping himself. Then, the blonde had offered the fedora and Erik knew that wasn't what he'd wanted to do. 'To cover your face' was an extraneous statement that never needed to be said between them. They'd cut those phrases out of their life together, but Raoul had said it to replace what he hadn't been able to say and for some reason, Erik's mind would not let go of what that sentence might be.

Raoul had run after him and he wanted to laugh at the thought, the mental image of Raoul racing down the stairs to catch up to him. Once again, his body thrummed with suppressed aggression as his mind flirted along the edges of a forbidden set of emotions, forbidden in their improbability, in their impracticality, in their very idiocy. He hadn't even allowed himself to make that thought solid, and yet he hadn't been able to rid himself of it completely either.

If only it were that easy to marshal his thoughts. They ran in circles, first the opera house to the Chagny estate then to this carriage. It would of course have to linger the longest at the Chagny estate.

The carriage stopping brought him out of his musings and he looked at Christine as though he just realized she'd been in the carriage with him this whole time. He wondered if it was lunch time already. He was surprisingly hungry – he blamed it on the fact that he'd been eating rather consistently with Raoul; he shook his head at the thought that his body had grown accustomed to such a thing. Sometimes, the thought of the amount of time they'd spent together was astounding.

"I guess this is where the driver leaves us," Christine said, pulling the curtain aside to look outside.

Confused, Erik looked out the small carriage window himself. It was dark. Had they travelled a whole day already?

He turned his attention back on her. Christine looked tired. Her clothes were in disarray from having twisted in her seat uncomfortably. Erik didn't miss her small intake of breath.

"Is there a problem?" Erik asked, just barely interested. He chastised himself, hearing his tone utterly bland. This was Christine. Christine was with him and he'd spent his time thinking about Raoul. Hadn't he already endeavored to think only of her now? Christine who said she loved him. He had to focus.

Christine gave a tight smile that did nothing to cover her anxiety, "No. Everything's alright."

Erik narrowed his eyes, letting her know that he wasn't convinced. Before he could truly question her though, she opened the door and Erik pressed into the shadows of the carriage. She slid out, saying, "I'll find a room before returning."

Erik scowled even though she would be unable to see it, perhaps because she was unable to see it. After a few seconds, the carriage shook a little again and Erik assumed that the driver had jumped down.

o.o.o

"You were outside the whole day," a voice informed him.

Raoul looked away from the blanket in his hands to his butler who stood nearby holding a bowl of what he assumed was soup. The clinking noise had been the spoon against the bowl.

"I do believe the sweat has something to do with your chills."

Raoul nodded, though his mind was still trying to catch up. He stood up on shaky legs to walk over to the large hanging mirror in the room. Pulling away the rag from his face, he frowned seeing a trail of water slide down his very obviously bruised cheek. The discoloration was mainly focused on his cheek but it crept up around his eye as well. His face was dirty from the dust carried by the breeze, making the twin trails down his cheeks all the more obvious. Glaring at his own reflection, he roughly wiped away the tear streaks with the rag.

He hadn't even realized.

"Was I…" Raoul didn't know if he should actually ask this, but he needed to know, "Was I crying?"

"If you were, Vicomte, it was quietly. You hardly made a sound the whole day."

Raoul nodded. It felt as though he hadn't spoken in days. He almost expected his voice to croak from disuse, but it sounded perfectly normal. Wearily, he walked back to the chair, gathering the blanket around himself firmly before accepting the tray of food.

"You refused to respond to anyone, but as night fell, we decided to move you inside ourselves."

Raoul met his eyes and smiled gratefully. "I thank you for that." He added as an afterthought, "I don't know what came over me."

He did know and from the expression on his butler's face, apparently so did everyone on the estate. He just hadn't realized he'd spent the whole day outside lost in his thoughts. But maybe a part of him had just been waiting, hoping that that road wasn't just one that led people away from him.

o.o.o

He'd been correct when he assumed the carriage moving meant the driver had jumped down from his seat. The door opened shortly after that and the luggage was thrust into his hands as the driver manhandled him out of the carriage. Erik was about to protest when the other man gave him a look of utter disgust and hatred that Erik was actually taken aback. He stood on the street, holding the case and watched the man's back as his shoulders rose and fell, his breathing harsh as he gripped the door of the carriage. The man was trying to calm down and doing a poor job of it.

Looking around, Erik noted that no one was around due to the late hour. However, he still fixed the fedora so that he could at least hide his mask better. Erik surprised himself when he couldn't even bring himself to be angry at the man. He was scowling, but he wasn't angry. He hated those looks and in another time, what felt like a completely other life, he would have killed the driver for it. Yet, he almost felt like he deserved it, like the emotions that were trapped within him, the ones that confused him, were utterly clear to this man – so clear that the anger and aggression had no other outlet but physical violence.

When the driver finally turned around, it was obvious that he'd managed to calm down considerably. The door to the carriage was still open and the man had looked at Erik expectantly before glancing back towards the inside of the carriage. What was expecting? For Erik to walk back in and return to the estate? Erik looked towards the corner that Christine had disappeared around. It had looked like she knew exactly where she was going.

If only he knew the same thing. Glancing back at the driver, he noticed the way his lips were pressed tightly together, brows furrowed. It was disappointment. The man had been offering a chance to go back to the Chagny estate, back to Raoul, and he knew Erik's answer.

Erik shook his head once before taking to the shadows, chasing after Christine. He gave the impression of being firm in his decision but when he heard the carriage begin moving, he hadn't been able to keep himself from watching it leave. He stared for long moments until it was out of his sight, his breaths shortening like the driver's had before he turned back towards the direction that Christine had headed.

o.o.o

Raoul forced himself to eat only because he knew that he was hungry, but the more time he was given in the silence to think, the more obvious Erik's absence became as he ate alone, the first time in how many months, he couldn't help but become agitated. He chastised himself for crying, even as he wondered if mourning was really all that bad. He'd moped around with Christine. He'd wasted away hours, days; hell, he himself had wasted away as well. Shouldn't he be allowed to do the same for Erik? Especially when he… he already admitted it to himself and yet he seemed to hesitate to think of his feelings for Erik.

He had to move on. Placing the empty tray of food aside, he walked towards the mirror again. Staring at his own reflection for a few more moments, he raced up the stairs to their bedroom… not their, his bedroom and grabbed an armful of Erik's clothing before running back downstairs. The fire was there, waiting for him to start the process. He could start getting better this very moment. He made it far enough to stare at the fire and feel its heat, but he couldn't throw the various articles of clothing in. He just couldn't do it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt a stray tear make its way down his cheek. It hurt to close his eyes as such, half his face still aching. He threw the clothes down onto the floor before joining them on his knees. Cursing in his head, he leaned against the mantle wondering how he'd be able to do this. He knew he shouldn't even be feeling anything towards the man but anger and hatred.

Erik had never felt anything for him. It had all been a plan, and Raoul cursed himself for falling for it, for falling in love with someone who probably didn't exist, who was simply just a ruse.

Listlessly, he lifted up a shirt and stared at it. He could picture Erik in it, could smell him on the clothes.

Erik was too cruel.

Their lives had revolved around each other. He hadn't been able to breathe without Erik knowing he had. Erik hadn't been able to move without Raoul knowing his position. It was cruel to spend that much time together only to leave him again.

Perhaps, that was what hurt the most. Not that Erik still loved Christine, but that what they'd been to each other, their time spent together had really all been a farce. In the end, it had meant nothing because Erik had chosen to leave him for Christine.

He didn't want to mourn, didn't want to cry, but maybe… Erik wasn't Christine and he couldn't get over him like that. He loved Erik no matter how much he tried to ignore the feeling. He doubted that would disappear or be replaced any time soon. He was almost certain of that fact, but if he could mourn Erik's absence, convince himself that it was alright to love him without feeling like a complete fool, without feeling so betrayed, then maybe he'd be able to move on.

It was so clear now how to get through this. So obvious.

A part of him knew this probably wasn't the best idea, but it was better than the alternative. It took too much effort to be that sad, to feel that betrayed with every breath he took, and if he became any more depressed, he doubted he'd have the strength to pull himself out of it. He wasn't willing to waste away, not yet, not for a lie; even if this solution would be a lie, it'd at least be one that would help him move on.

He could just pretend that Erik had died. After all, in a way, he had. Raoul would never see him, hear him, or touch him ever again, and wasn't that just as bad as dying? The main consolation from this though was the fact that if Erik had died, he wouldn't have chosen Christine over him. He'd be gone but not through his own will and this whole ruse would never have happened. He could fool himself into believing that Erik hadn't had Christine waiting for him until this little experiment was through, that Erik had been there for Raoul, thinking of Raoul, and not just biding his time for Christine.

Sadly enough, Raoul realized that it was easy to fool himself into believing that; he so desperately wanted it to be the truth. It only took a few seconds of deliberation where he almost convinced himself that he shouldn't be making these kinds of decisions when he was still hurting this badly. Then, that pain was exactly the reason he needed a solution. He couldn't erase Erik from his life, like he'd done with Christine. He didn't want to come to the conclusion that he didn't love Erik. He just didn't want to feel betrayed or foolish or anger whenever he thought of him.

Erik was dead.

He might have loved Raoul back given more time. If they'd had more time together, Erik would have thought of him in higher regard. He would have chosen to stay if it had been possible.

Raoul slumped further against the mantle, his body relaxing as he let grief instead of betrayal wash over him. He let a few more stray tears go, relieved that he didn't have to try to be angry, try to hold back an emotion that was too strong for him to forget. He'd loved Erik. How could he have not realized it sooner? But missed opportunities were better than trying to deny the emotion.

He thought back fondly on their time spent together before falling asleep.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 20

Word count: 4,295

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

Chapter review: No, Raoul's not crazy. He's just particularly good at ignoring people and getting lost in his thoughts. Okay, so maybe he's having a temporary mental breakdown. Two people he loved did leave him all alone together. And, besides, Raoul's just obscenely good at lying to himself.