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: I'm starting to doubt that I'm going to make it to my before July 4th deadline in finishing this. I think there are going to be 28 chapters total. I guess that means I'm just going to have to overlap them. :( Looking at the previous chapter, it seems I have a thing with semi-colons right now. I figure they're better than run-on sentences (though I think I saw several of those as well).

Story Note: Erik is back! But this is a not-so-promising chapter title, but there is some poetic justice in here.

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Reluctantly Willing

Chapter 24 - … to run

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Erik nearly bristled at her ultimatum; she had no right to demand anything of him. No one was allowed to dictate what he chose to do with his life, not anymore. He was no longer caged nor helpless against coercion. It wasn't difficult to see the manipulation in her words. Her or Raoul? He would've lost his temper at such impudence if he hadn't been intrigued by the choice she was forcing upon him.

"Why would I need to pick between you and Raoul?" The answer seemed apparent to him.

"You need to pick. We cannot continue like this." At Erik's steady gaze, she continued, "It's obvious you haven't been able to stop thinking about him. It's obvious that he meant something and still means something to you. So choose, already."

Erik kept his voice even, unsure of how she would react with her obvious growing agitation. His response was immediate though, "I've chosen you, Christine. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"No," she yelled, her voice becoming shrill. She surprised herself by how much she wanted him to care, how much she expected it. That was one thing she could always count on, the ghost's love, his devotion. He knew what had happened to her and hadn't left; even in his silence, his presence had spoken volumes to her without her fully realizing it. She'd taken that silence to be acceptance, and even though she hadn't asked for it, hadn't wanted it, now that she knew it had simply been her imagination, she couldn't help but want it back. She'd been betrayed by her last resort, and he didn't even realize it. "No! You haven't chosen," she tried to make him understand that he was doing everything but choosing her, "You can't say that you've chosen me when you've barely looked at me this whole time, barely spoken to me." Her voice grew louder with each word, "You can't say you've chosen me when you so obviously don't care."

When Christine finished, she was breathing harshly, chest heaving. She stared at Erik expectantly, hoping that he would be able to assuage her fears, hoping that he would prove this feeling of betrayal to be groundless.

Erik stared at her for long moments, his expression inscrutable. His mind ran through a multitude of thoughts, the most central being the feeling of déjà vu. It didn't take long for him to remember where he'd heard those words before. It felt like lifetimes ago, but it was easy to remember. And when he did, he was almost glad that he had been preoccupied as of late because it had brought them to this point. It was his negligence that had pushed Christine to this point, as familiar as it was. He couldn't help but feel a little vindicated on behalf of both Raoul and him. Christine was now the one ordering for a choice to be made.

Choose.

Raoul had been right about Christine and now, Christine was right about him. They hadn't chosen, not really; they'd simply existed alongside the obvious choice, the unquestioned one, the easy one. Erik had gone with Christine because she had once been the person he loved and cherished above all others, but that had been before the night of Don Juan Triumphant, before releasing her, before being found by Raoul. He'd gone with her because he never stopped to consider that she wouldn't be what he wanted.

But, she was questioning it now, and she was making him question his choice as well when he would have simply accepted that Christine was who he was meant to be with. Was Christine who he really was meant to be with?

She continued, unable to stand that silence. The silence itself was an answer. "And this hat." She grabbed it from the table he'd placed it upon, "This stupid fedora that you stare at constantly. God, why didn't I realize it? You stare at it like you want to stare at Raoul, like you wish it were him."

Erik didn't do well with accusations, almost as well as he did with ultimatums. He took a threatening step towards her, unable to help himself. She stepped back in response. He scoffed and gave his own order, one he'd been wanting to say for a while, "Stop saying his name. You have no right." Instead of his voice rising, it dropped low.

"No right to what?" Christine took a tentative step forward, refusing to admit that he intimidated her as much as he did, "Call him by his name? I was his fiancé. You think you have that right? You tried to kill him, even right before we left."

Erik stilled. She was right. He'd threatened Raoul before they left, but the blonde was the one who'd driven him to that point. Raoul was the only one who could make him react so violently and still survive. Raoul, just Raoul. And Erik realized that there were actually many exceptions he'd made for him. Erik had let his guard down, done more than that. He'd revealed himself physically in every possible way to that boy and had even found himself trusting him because Raoul had never once turned away or flinched. He'd even let Raoul see his designs and gave him his expertise in business. And, with everything that Erik offered, Raoul accepted them like precious gifts.

Unlike with his mask's presence, Erik could still distinctly feel Raoul's absence. It was the main thing that occupied his mind. He couldn't help but think of him; Erik had simply refused to admit that to himself, refused to dissect the what's and why's of what he was doing any longer.

Christine was his goal. It had all been for Christine… until it hadn't been.

He looked at her, really looked at her and wondered what had changed between them, what had changed with all of them. Despite their past and admittedly, their present, Erik knew that to him Raoul would now and always be Raoul. "He's the one that told me to call him that. I have every right."

Angry and seeing a rather bleak future laid out in front of her of one inn room to the next, Christine glared at him. She bit her bottom lip and wanted him to feel the same pain that she felt at this moment. She said pointedly, "I never loved you. Never. I only wanted you for your talent."

"Josiana." The name was spat out before Erik even realized he'd thought it, much less voiced that particular thought. "Josiana," he repeated more to himself than to her, as though voicing it made it real, made it true.

"What?" Christine scoffed, displeased with his reaction. She wanted him to get angry, to feel something other than the detachment he'd shown throughout their travels, as though he'd been above feeling anything with her. "No 'lying Delilah'? No viper? Just Josiana. Who is that?"

"You," Erik said with conviction. The realization made his mind falter. "You aren't Dea."

Christine looked at him as though he'd gone mad.

Erik looked away from her. He hadn't gone mad; he'd simply realized the truth. His eyes quickly scanned the room. He strode past her, flinging the luggage open. He stared at the contents. Grabbing his designs, he tossed everything else at Christine's feet. He grabbed the fedora from her and made sure he had the book with him before once again focusing on Christine, who was staring at the money and clothes that were strewn across the floor in front of her.

"You want my talent?" Erik asked, "I've already given you it. I've given you everything I could." Indicating the items on the floor with a tilt of his head, he said, "You may have that as well." He reached the door and was about to leave when he stopped himself, "I wish you well." And, honestly, he wasn't even sure he meant it. Christine would be nothing more than an afterthought once he left the room. She'd been an afterthought this whole time without him realizing it. He'd come to understand that; because as much as he'd needed and wanted her in the past, he – no, they had all changed. "And that choice between you and Raoul? You made it for me by asking, Christine."

o.o.o

Erik had stolen a horse and travelled day and night to return to the Chagny estate, cursing himself for having gotten so far without realizing that he shouldn't have left in the first place. He barely slept, but then again, he'd barely slept the past weeks as well. Even through his fatigue, he was spurred on by the fact that he had to return to his Dea. He needed to return to Raoul.

He thought about how Raoul would react to his return, but more than not, he tried not to think at all. He didn't think about what he would do once he arrived because then he'd start to question himself. He'd question the fact that he'd just left Christine alone, though not without resources. He would, however, be more likely to question who he was running towards instead of away from. He had no idea how Raoul felt or if it should even matter to him.

Erik knew one thing for certain about Raoul. He was Dea in the story. Raoul was Dea and even knowing that, Erik didn't know exactly what he felt towards him. He didn't know if that meant they were doomed from the very start, if Raoul even wanted him back and more importantly, if he even loved Raoul.

He knew that he missed the Chagny estate. He missed their bed, their room, their breakfasts… Erik almost laughed at himself. He missed their life, maybe because it was a life he'd once dreamed of so long ago, maybe because he'd become comfortable. He'd stopped fearing for his life and stopped expecting the worse to happen at every moment of the day. It wasn't just that he'd stopped expecting it; he'd forgotten about that feeling entirely when he was with Raoul. He forgot that he was a monster, the devil's child. He forgot that he was less than human. Maybe it was because his life had stopped being just his. He'd never known anything other than being alone, even with Christine. If that meant that he loved Raoul as much as Gwynplaine loved Dea, then maybe he'd be willing to admit something like that. Maybe.

Seeing Raoul fall out of the tree – Erik fought the urge to roll his eyes – seeing Raoul in the tree in the first place had made his heart stop. There Raoul had stood on a branch after nearly falling down the tree just to reach that point far more worse for wear than when Erik had left him. The blood, scratches, and bruises were plain to see. He'd forgotten his confusion and worries, and Erik had only known fear, fear for Raoul's safety, fear for their future. The only response to such overwhelming fear was anger, specifically anger at Raoul.

Now that they were both on the ground Erik was just beginning to think clearly again. Raoul had literally stepped off the branch. Admittedly, his presence was a surprise, but that was an overreaction.

Raoul hastily got to his feet, stared at him for a long moment before running towards the house.

Erik, who had taken a tentative step towards him, took a few seconds just processing the fact that Raoul was running away from him before he followed. Raoul was surprisingly fast and was up the stairs and in the spare room before Erik even reached the bottom of the stairs.

Leaning against the door, Raoul stared wide-eyed at the items in the room. The bed was exactly as he'd left it. The desk had been moved in here as well. There was barely any space to move around but everything was neat and in order. Not knowing what else to do, not really thinking about what he was doing, Raoul pushed a chair against the door that led to his bedroom, pushed the desk against the other door and scrambled over the bed, dropping to the ground to sit pressing his back against the farthest wall from the door. He couldn't see over the bed, couldn't see anything besides the linens and the wood frame.

He was cowering. He knew it, but Erik was dead. He was having a mental breakdown. Seeing ghosts. Something. Something very real but that only made it more frightening. How far gone was he? He'd thought that he was getting better.

The door from the hallway opened and slammed into the desk with a loud enough bang that Raoul flinched. He could hear some muttered curses before covering his ears with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. He'd been doing so well. He'd found someone to move on with, but she wasn't Erik. Raoul hated how that fact alone was enough to make him not care for her. Maybe that was why he was hallucinating now. She'd left him alone. Going to their grove had been a bad idea. The inner door opened next, strong enough that the chair was displaced. A very bad idea. Raoul pressed himself further against the wall.

"Raoul."

The voice was steady and sure, and Raoul was certain he was hallucinating now because he could almost swear Erik sounded concerned.

Erik looked around the room. Raoul had done some redecorating. He was a little surprised to see his belongings still present actually. The desk held the other drawings and designs he'd worked on before he'd left as though they were ready to be used again. The bed was made; the dresser, he was certain, would hold the rest of his clothes. Raoul should have burned all his things or given them away. Keeping them in a single room was… strange.

Running and hiding from him was even stranger. Erik hesitated where he stood. He was tired and now sore from having broken Raoul's fall. His heartbeat was not slowing and he wasn't certain whether it was from the scare of Raoul falling out of the tree or running across the Chagny estate. He wasn't pleased with either event.

If Raoul thought he didn't see him enter the room, then the blonde would be sorely disappointed to know he wasn't about to leave, but now that he was in the room, what was he going to do? Drag Raoul from his hiding place? Apparently, Raoul thought he was here under some other pretense. What pretense, Erik couldn't even begin to guess with that kind of reception to his arrival.

Raoul was just lucky that he hadn't been around to show himself when that woman had been with him. Maybe that was why Raoul was hiding from him. He thought Erik had come back to ruin his relationship. Even if that were true, it still didn't explain Raoul's reaction.

This would be the first time that Raoul had run and hidden from him, and Erik didn't like it one bit. He walked through the room almost afraid of what he would find. Reaching the bed, he paused. It was the last place that Raoul could possibly be. Huddled in the corner of the room – Raoul was possibly the last person in the world Erik would want to have that effect on. He didn't have the courage to visually verify that image though.

"Raoul," he called out again.

He still received no reply.

Seeing the chair, Erik dragged it towards the bed before sitting down. He'd wait for Raoul to come out himself. Whatever Raoul was trying to prove by hiding, Erik wasn't going to encourage it. He simply wouldn't. Raoul would eventually have to stand up and then they'd have a long talk. With this plan in mind, the tension in his muscles finally left. He slumped in the chair, and for the first time since he'd left, he felt at ease.

Before long, Erik was dragged into slumber through the combination of sleepless nights, hard travel, and finally being back home.

o.o.o

After long moments where Raoul had been certain that he'd actually heard Erik walking around the room, the noises died down. He'd sat, hugging his knees to his chest hands clasped over his ears though it did little to block out the sound. The chair moved again and it was silent once more.

He didn't know how long he waited barely allowing himself to breathe. It was long enough that his muscles started to cramp from him position. He only focused on breathing, on calming down. Then, he heard it. Erik's breathing.

But Erik was dead.

Lowering his hands, the sound became louder. Raoul closed his eyes, just to hear it more clearly. And, yes. The steady rise and fall. The sound that had lulled him to sleep for weeks when they'd been together.

Erik was dead.

The quiet sound that he'd been able to hear even a room away, the sound he'd trained himself to hear. Pressing his back against the wall, Raoul stood up on shaky legs.

Erik was…

… asleep on a chair in the middle of the room. His head was bowed, arms limply at his sides, and wearing clothes that had seen better days. He was also wearing the mask.

Looking around the room in confusion, Raoul turned his attention back at Erik and saw that he was still indeed there. Crawling over the bed cautiously, Raoul winced when it creaked under his weight. He froze; however, Erik didn't even respond, and that only made Raoul more suspicious. Erik would usually wake at the smallest of sounds. Slowly getting to his feet, Raoul approached the apparition. He frowned at the mask and before he could dissuade himself otherwise, he reached out and stroked the cold porcelain. There still was no reaction.

Feeling bolder and simply needing to be certain, Raoul took his mask off. Staring at the mask in his hands, he suddenly felt his eyes water. He remembered why it had been a bad idea to believe that Erik had died. Gritting his teeth, he let out a shaky breath. He tossed the mask on the bed. Erik was alive, but he'd chosen Christine over him. Erik had only been using him.

Raoul bit his bottom lip until it hurt, thankful for the slight distraction. It was enough to bring him back to this moment. Erik was back. His hand reached out. Gently, he skimmed his fingertips over the ridges of irregular skin near Erik's forehead, the smooth skin near the top of his head, and then through his hair. He was dirty, his hair tangled. Raoul let out a shaky laugh, willing his eyes to stop watering.

Erik didn't respond and Raoul remembered another time he'd been able to so freely explore Erik's face like this. Odd how it was only now that his heart beat this fast, that heat pooled in his belly, and that his chest ached to know that this man was his enemy. He might have even fallen in love with the ghost then. It had at least been the start of everything. The start of understanding Erik as more than a monster, more than a rival. The start of wanting change, wanting him to be happy.

He already knew exactly what the deformity felt like under his hand. He'd long since memorized it, but he still couldn't help himself. He traced the particularly deep trench in Erik's cheek, the skin rising up unnaturally, affecting the ghost's nose. He followed every ridge and dip from his skull to around his eyes. He reverently traced Erik's jaw and lips. It was only then that Erik reacted. Even then, it was only a soft sigh.

Raoul pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist.

If only he'd realized it sooner. If only.

Taking a deep breath, Raoul suddenly felt calm. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do now. Daring because this was his last chance, Raoul bent forward and kissed Erik once on the cheek.

Moving with a purpose, Raoul opened Erik's dresser and pulled out a cloak, draping it over his shoulders. It was a little big, but Raoul didn't care. He glanced at the window. It was dark outside already. No one had come to find him for dinner, but he figured it was because they'd seen Erik return and knew to leave them alone. Raoul grinned before heading out. This was the right thing to do. He just hadn't realized it until this moment.

Before he closed the door behind him, Raoul spared one look back at Erik.

"Good-bye," he whispered.

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 24

Word count: 3,457

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

Chapter review: Damn Erik. Why let exhaustion take over at this point? And what the hell is Raoul planning to do? D: