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: This was supposed to be posted earlier this week, but that didn't happen.

Story Note: What can I say? The chapter title looks promising.

o.o.o.o

Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 23 - … to fight

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Christine used the rest of their day of travel to formulate a plan. She'd discarded many before eventually coming to the conclusion that she would once again have to lie. What was one lie among the others she was willing to say for their happiness? At least, that's what she told herself. It wasn't as though lying to the ghost had been an easy decision. It hadn't been in the beginning, and it wasn't now. But, she wanted to be happy. She needed to not only survive but be able to look at herself in the morning, to think of herself without feeling disgust, and without the opera house, she didn't know any other way.

Of all the people that she could count on, shouldn't the ghost be the first on that list? He'd offered her everything at one point. She could make him happy as well; she knew she could. It was who they were. The ghost wanted her and although Christine hadn't been able to understand how she could ever be happy with him, she could now. It would be perfect.

So perfect, yet she couldn't help but be worried about him abandoning her; because as much as she told herself that the silence between was natural, she couldn't deny that she was afraid. What if it weren't natural? She didn't know what she would do if he left her without any resources. Alone again. She could survive; that was some comfort, but she didn't want to go back to doing what she'd been doing before. And the ghost couldn't want to be left alone either.

As long as the result was beneficial to them both, what did anything else matter? It wasn't as though they'd have to return to France ever again, and the ghost didn't seem too adverse to the idea of leaving anyway.

She waited, her stomach unsettled the whole time, until they had obtained a room for the night. It was the same routine since they'd started their journey. The ghost would sleep on the floor near the door and she would sleep in the bed. She didn't bother to question it. After all, she hadn't been ready to have him in her bed, even though she knew that they'd eventually have to share more than just a bed if she were to live this life she had chosen. She didn't even want him to take off the mask. It wasn't as though she'd forgotten what he looked like; that would have been impossible. She even remembered how it felt beneath her hand when she'd kissed him. It made her shudder. She could get used to it, simply given more time.

Tonight, however, she would take her first step in that direction of becoming closer, becoming more familiar. There needed to be reciprocation in this relationship, and she would try to at least close one distance between them whether it was physical or mental; she'd do it the only way she could think to drive him to her.

What had always worked in the past, Raoul.

o.o.o

Raoul wondered why he kept returning home when it was easily becoming the last thing he wanted to do. The idea of leaving had been there when Christine had left him the first and then again the second time. However, he hadn't been able to leave that first time. Something in him had kept him on the estate, fear perhaps. He'd been afraid of finding Christine in some other city and seeing her happy, happier than she'd ever been with him. This time though, he could leave. Fear wasn't keeping him on the estate because he'd left already, albeit only to the city. He'd left his estate and it had been easy. In fact, it was becoming more tempting as the days compounded to simply leave the city entirely. He could finally see the ocean again, maybe chase ships like he used to as a child. He'd be able to relive happier times – a time before everything else had happened, before things got so complicated.

However, he found that although fear wasn't keeping him on the estate, perhaps hope did. He could wait a little longer before leaving. He could wait to see if his situation did become better, if another outing with that woman could make him forget what could have been. Maybe she'd be worth staying in Paris for, and that was what he was afraid it came down to, sentimentality. He was waiting for a reason to stay in Paris because this was where Erik had been. This was where his memories were, and even though he avoided the Opera Populaire at all costs, it was almost comforting knowing that Erik's home was nearby if he wanted to see it, just like that room in his house. Whenever he wanted to visit Erik, he could.

But, no. That couldn't be it. He wanted to move on.

Sometimes, he would still see the disapproving looks from some of his servants when they knew who he was going to meet, and it hurt. Not because they were remotely malicious but because he would be reminded of whom they had actually approved. He hadn't really thought much about it before, when Erik had been alive. They hadn't mistreated him. They hadn't antagonized him for his face, for his crimes, for his constant presence by Raoul. They had welcomed him and simply because Raoul had asked them to. It probably helped that Erik was a bit intimidating, moreso that he'd managed to help him after Christine had left.

It wasn't as though they had been pretending with their kindness either; Raoul was certain he would have been able to tell, especially after how they'd been acting lately and comparing to their behaviour between Erik and Christine. It was obvious, now. It would have been humorous if it weren't so depressing. If he didn't know better, he would have gone to his servants for advice of what to do with his life now, but Raoul knew they didn't understand. They didn't understand that Erik was gone and he was supposed to move on.

o.o.o

Christine sat on the edge of the bed watching as Erik stalked the room. He checked the window before securing the door, but before he could blow out the candle and settle down to sleep, she stood up. It was enough to get his attention.

"Angel," she said regardless.

Erik clenched his jaw at the name and exhaled slowly. It didn't help. "Yes, Christine," he said through clenched teeth.

"Would you like to join me on the bed tonight?"

Staring at her in disbelief, Erik shook his head slowly. "It would be best if we did not." He didn't really have to think about that response. As much as he was willing to work on their relationship, he wasn't about to start with sleeping with her, especially when she kept calling him 'Angel.' He could remember what it felt like to have her arm clinging onto him, and he still hadn't been able to explain why his body recoiled at such a touch. It was what he wanted. Sleeping in the same bed would simply confuse him further, he was certain.

"I want," Christine walked towards him. "I want us to become closer."

Unmoved by the statement, Erik considered this an opportunity to tell her his name, to tell her that he really was no angel and that she knew that. She'd seen him, spoke with him, and fought with him. She knew he was man, had called him a monster; yet, she still persisted with this attitude when it was obviously all an act. This was the Christine he had seen those months ago before she'd hit him over the head with a lamp. It was a Christine he really didn't know and hadn't fallen in love with, but he was willing to learn more because she was still Christine. "Then, let us speak."

Glancing at his mask, Christine took a deep breath. She reached forward to place her hands on his chest, staring at the point of contact. He simply glanced down at her hands before focusing on her face again. Not getting the reaction she'd rather expected, she stepped back to put some distance between them.

She started, "It was a mistake."

Erik took a step back as well. He kept his expression neutral. If she really wanted to talk, she would look him in the eyes, and so far, she'd looked everywhere but, her hands, the floor, the bed, his mask, everywhere but his eyes.

"Raoul," she noted him tensing and was a little relieved that she'd been correct about his reaction to her ex-fiancé, "had never meant anything. He never treated me well."

This time, Erik was the one who looked away. Didn't she realize by now that he'd seen through that lie? He would see through any lie she said about Raoul. Didn't she remember that he'd been there to see how she'd treated the boy? What Raoul had done for her? But, he didn't stop her from speaking.

"He didn't, well," and this was where Christine knew she'd be crossing the line. This was the point of no return for her and she didn't hesitate. She refused to, not when it could possibly bind the ghost to her, "when I came to find you, he tried to kiss me. I told him no, but he said that we were meant to be, told me that he would always love me, and that we could leave together. He said that I was to stay in his bed before speaking ill of you."

Every word that Christine spoke drew his eyes away from the window he'd focused on during her first lie to her. He couldn't quite understand what she hoped to accomplish with this, couldn't quite understand this Christine. Not seeing any reason to let her continue lest he lose his temper, he stopped her. "Why do you need to lie?" And, he didn't understand because he was already here with her. He'd already made his choice.

"Lie, Angel?" Christine stared at him wide-eyed.

"Raoul wouldn't have done that," Erik stated simply.

"Raoul wouldn't have done that?" Christine repeated and stared at him in confusion. "Raoul?" Eyes darting to and away from him, she tried to comprehend his reaction. He was calm. He'd called him Raoul with more familiarity than she thought possible. There was no venom in the word, no bitter hatred as she'd heard in the past, and the way he'd said that statement – Christine believed that he did know Raoul wouldn't have done what she'd said. There was absolutely no doubt in his voice and when she looked, nor in his expression. He knew she was lying.

Slowly, trying to understand how such a thing could happen, she said to herself, "You don't hate him."

Erik couldn't help the reflexive response to defend his dislike of Raoul, "What are you talking about Christine?" It was a dislike that he was loathe to admit had lessened considerably. He could really only feel pity for him. Pity, that was all.

It wasn't that the ghost simply didn't hate him. Christine thought back to everything that had happened after her arrival at the Chagny estate that week ago. The ghost had gone to the bedroom and had been surprised to see her. Or at least, she thought he'd been surprised; after all, his first statement had been to ask where Raoul had been. He'd been expecting Raoul in the bed, and Raoul had specifically sent her there.

"Just what were you doing when I was away?" Christine stared at him, and Erik was annoyed, realizing that she could easily look him in the eyes but only when she was accusing him of something, only when she was angry. "Why did Raoul pack your luggage? Better yet, why did he even have your things?" Christine pressed. Still, the ghost didn't react. The ghost and Raoul. They must have had an argument of some sort for the way they'd been acting, she concluded.

Erik retorted, not quite calm though not seeing a reason to lose his temper just yet, "I was making sure he wouldn't follow us."

She laughed harshly. "I'm sure."

"What?" Erik couldn't understand why Christine was misunderstanding the situation. He'd been at the Chagny estate solely for her, for them so that they could leave Paris unhindered. His plan had succeeded. Of course, he couldn't deny that Raoul had been on his mind lately and often, but that was simply because he was angry with his reaction to his leaving. Raoul had been completely ungrateful. He would never have accepted his money. He'd been there because he'd wanted to be there, a place where he'd been able to be maskless, to work without fear of ballet rats or mobs, to experience a summer day outside… his thoughts were cut off as Christine continued.

"You were living at his estate. Weren't you? You were with him while I was gone." It was suddenly clear to her. Raoul hadn't found the ghost for her; the ghost had simply been returning to the estate. The luggage had come from Raoul as well. It would explain why the ghost seemed so distant, why Raoul would stop them like he did, and why Raoul didn't fight back.

"You, he…" she didn't want to believe such a thing was possible. It was unnatural. Even Raoul must have realized it at the end, but if she were correct, she couldn't understand why the ghost had left with her in the first place. Maybe he understood it was unnatural as well. Maybe he had made his choice with her but was simply dwelling on the past; so, confidently, she asked, "You don't believe me? Angel," she challengingly looked at him and issued an ultimatum that would hopefully wake the ghost up from whatever temporary mental ailment he'd been experiencing, "it's either him or me. That's all it comes down to."

o.o.o

Raoul told himself that he was ready to take the next step. Though it had taken awhile to muster up the courage to do so, he had finally invited his now frequent lady companion to a date on his estate. It was the first time since Christine and Erik that someone else had been invited to his house. Although technically, Erik hadn't been invited; he'd been unconscious and in need of medical aid. He hadn't even wanted to be there.

Much like how he could tell that his date wanted to leave now as well.

Everything had started out pleasant enough. It was late afternoon when she'd arrived in a carriage, looking rather impressed. They'd gone to the sitting room where there had been a wide variety of beverages and snacks – Raoul still didn't quite know what she liked – waiting for them. They talked at length about the weather, and Raoul had never known a conversation could last that long about humidity and heat. When Raoul hadn't been able to stand another second of talk of the weather differences between Paris, cities she'd only ever heard of from friends, and the countryside, Raoul had offered a tour of his estate. He'd been more than a little relieved when she had agreed.

As he glanced at her now, he had a feeling that she hadn't thought a tour of his estate had meant a walk around through the lawn to his stables and the wooded area. In retrospect, he should have left the stable out of the tour. For a woman who travelled by carriage a lot, she held a lot of contempt for horses. He was certain the smell hadn't helped any. The way she wrinkled her nose and cast contemptuous glances at Raoul's favorite horses was far from ladylike or even polite; so, Raoul had hurried his steps and glossed over the rest of what he'd been about to say just to leave the stable.

She'd turned to walk back towards the main house when Raoul stopped her.

"I was about to show you the rest of the estate," Raoul said, offering his arm.

She looked from his arm to the line of trees in the distance. "What else do you have here?" Under her breath, she muttered, "A pig pen perhaps."

Raoul ignored the last statement since she'd done very little to actually make certain he hadn't heard her. She was simply irate; he could understand that. He said pleasantly, "There's the lawn and the trees, and there's this nice grove…" The word caught in his throat and he forgot everything that was about to say, his mind trapped in that one place that he'd blocked out of his thoughts. He tugged at the front of his shirt, his breathing suddenly difficult against the light pressure.

She looked at him oddly for a second before shaking her head. Seeming to remember herself, she replied, "Perhaps next time we could simply take a walk through the city. I rather like the cobblestones and city streets over" she frowned at the grass "such a quiet area as this."

When Raoul could finally think again, he made a mental note. As much as she could talk about the weather in the countryside, she did not like it. She preferred the city; Raoul couldn't fault her for that. Some people were simply fond of the city life. He nodded with a smile and she finally relaxed, as though she'd thought Raoul would drag her through the estate regardless of her opinion. As they approached the main building, Raoul motioned for her carriage. He escorted her into it with a mention that perhaps next time they would take that walk through the city. He only waited long enough to see that the carriage was actually leaving.

Without knowing why, Raoul found himself wandering through his estate. It really couldn't be considered wandering though. He knew where he was going to end; he knew where his feet were taking him. Slowly approaching the grove, he knew exactly why he'd avoided this place, why he'd avoided the Opera Populaire, avoided entering the room adjacent to his, avoided his estate completely. It was the same reason why he couldn't leave. The memories.

It was torture to stay here. Torture, yet he found himself walking towards their tree. He drew his fingers lightly across the bark, focusing on the sensation itself. Bowing his head, he let out a shuddered breath. He wanted to cry. He was almost certain that if he could just cry, he'd feel better, but after those first few days, all his tears had been shed.

Raoul jumped the distance to grab the lowest branch of the tree. He was a little out of practice, but he managed to pull himself up. This tree in particular was one of the larger trees that he was able to climb. The branch he sat upon was almost one and a half times as high as he was tall. It had taken a lot of time with Erik watching him futilely try to jump high enough to grab the branch and be able to pull himself up. He could clearly remember Erik's amusement the times he'd just hung there, refusing to admit that he couldn't pull himself up. He could clearly remember Erik sitting beneath the tree reading or simply staring out into the grove as they spoke about anything that came to Raoul's mind at the moment. He could remember it all as though Erik were still there with him.

Holding onto the trunk of the tree, Raoul stood up a little shakily onto the branch. The next branch that would hold his weight was about waist height, but almost on the other side of the tree. He wrapped himself around the trunk to reach it, focused completely on the task before turning towards the next branch that he could reach. Higher and higher Raoul climbed. He needed to get as far away from the base of the tree, needed to do something because he couldn't scream or cry and the pressure was still building up within him. It lessened just the slightest whenever he reached for that next branch, when his foot slipped and he barely grabbed the branch in time to stop his descent, when he could hardly breathe from the struggle against gravity, against the pull that tried to drag him back to the past.

He climbed until the tree began to sway from his weight, until there were no more branches that would hold his weight. He hadn't reached the top, but he was close enough to see it. He was close enough that the air felt cooler here, lighter, freer. He hugged the tree trunk even though it scratched his cheek and tried to slow his breathing. His heart was beating rapidly, pulsing strongly against his ribs. He was sweating, and the meager wind was doing its job to cool him. The sun had a few more hours left but nearing the evening, it wasn't as oppressive as it had been as of late.

Up that high, Raoul could see the tops of the other trees in the grove. He could see his house. Home? He could see the place that had once been home, and he realized it then that it would always hurt to be here, the Chagny estate, Paris. He realized that he didn't know what he was doing anymore. He didn't know what was right, what he was supposed to do. Stay here or leave? See others or forsake them all for not being Erik? Be sad or fake being happy?

If he left, he'd be losing a part of himself. He cursed and laughed though it sounded more like a sob; it felt more like a sob. He'd already lost a part of himself; it had died.

Suddenly, he needed to feel the ground beneath his feet. He was certain that he would feel less lost on the ground than up in the tree.

The way down was more difficult than he thought possible, his reach always just barely making the lower branch. He was forced to hug the tree trunk several times and slide down towards the nearest branch. His face and hands were bleeding, and his clothes dirtied if not completely ruined. It didn't slow him down though. He needed to be on the ground before the emptiness that was within him ate him away completely, before he vanished.

As he reached the last branch before he reached the ground, Raoul heard his name. He paused and closed his eyes, a sudden bout of dizziness hitting him. He swayed where he stood and steadied himself on the tree trunk. He knew that voice, the familiar tone of anger and incredulousness that was used whenever Raoul had done something that was deemed foolish.

"What do you think you're doing?" Erik yelled.

Afraid, Raoul peered down. Sure enough, Erik stood there staring at him – more like glaring at him.

"You're bleeding." Erik's eyes scrutinized every inch of the blonde that he could see. Raoul's hair was in complete disarray. His cheeks were scratched, tiny rivulets of blood making their way down towards his throat. His shirt was torn in several places and Erik could almost swear that the sleeves were tinged in red as well. Raoul's pants hadn't come out unscathed either. He was a mess of torn clothes, blood, and leaves.

Erik had arrived at the Chagny estate in time to see a strange carriage with a woman sitting primly inside it leave the estate. He'd narrowed his eyes at her, memorizing exactly what she looked like. He was tired, but having arrived at his destination and with that rush of anger at seeing that woman, Erik found enough energy to race towards the main building only to be told by rather surprised staff that Raoul was outside.

He'd reached the tree to see Raoul doing a rather careless job of climbing down from a perilously high distance up their tree. His heart felt as though it had lodged its way into his throat as he mutely watched Raoul cling and slip down the tree. He clearly remembered his last thoughts of Raoul as he'd left with Christine.

Ignoring the tightening in his chest, Erik chose to focus on wondering how reckless the boy was to climb a tree that high. Did he want to die?

Erik yelled again not even caring that Raoul wasn't answering, "Why would you even climb the tree that high? The only thing you can do there is fall to the ground."

Raoul shook his head, not believing his eyes. No. It couldn't be. Erik was dead. Raoul felt a little nauseous. Erik was dead. Forgetting himself, he took a step backwards in obvious denial of what he was seeing.

Erik saw the motion and his heart skipped a beat.

Dea died in the novel.

Quickly stepping forward, Erik placed himself directly in Raoul's path towards the ground as the blonde windmilled and tried to grab the tree trunk again. Raoul flailed with a yell and could do nothing but hold his breath and wait to hit the floor. Instead of hitting the floor though, arms caught him. His body jerked to a stop before Erik's legs gave out beneath him and they continued their journey to the ground. Raoul fell out of Erik's hold a few feet away.

Ignoring the aches that were blooming all over his body, Erik pushed himself up onto his knees to better see how Raoul fared.

Raoul moaned, but remembering himself, he scrambled to move further away from Erik. His back hit the tree he'd fallen out of. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. Erik was still in front of him. He stuttered. "Who…? How…?" His breaths became shorter.

"Raoul?" Erik really looked at Raoul this time. He didn't seem injured from the fall, but with his current state, Erik wasn't quite certain he'd be able to differentiate injuries from the climb down versus the fall. He wanted to be angry with him. He knew he should be because Raoul had literally just stepped off the branch, but he was more confused than anything at the moment. Of all the receptions he'd considered upon returning to the Changy estate, and he'd been certain he was prepared for anything in the four day non-stop journey he'd made, this was not one of them.

Then again, Raoul never ceased to surprise him.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 23

Word count: 4,434

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

Chapter review: Oh hell. I just gave you another reason to hate Christine. That was unintentional. It just happened.

We don't exactly know what Erik's motives are for returning, but considering Christine's ultimatum, I can't help but see this as a good thing, right? Hell, Erik's back!