Chapt. 10

Raoul and Christine sat silently in the carriage, stopped just outside the Opera House as they had many times before.

Each time I come here is more difficult than the last. I keep searching the windows as if I expect to see him. Why? I should be happy to have him out of my life. But I am not. Christine thought as she glanced at the ruined façade of the old building. Her mind wandered.

She could no longer deny it, she now felt strangely alone. In the cold walls of the Opera House, she had felt protected by her guardian angel. The idea of her Angel of Music looking after her made her feel safe somehow, guarded by his superhuman strength and deity-like omnipotence. After she found out her Angel was none other than the Phantom of the Opera, a tragic, possessive man hopelessly in love with her, her feelings became complex: anger mixed with sorrow, fear, lust, and love.

He was always with me, watching me. He would have never let harm come to me. He would have killed for me. Your passion is misdirected, Christine. You stupid, foolish girl.

She ventured a glance down at her lap, where Raoul's darker, bigger hand lay between hers. In a few ways, Raoul was the same as the Phantom, but in many ways, different, very different. Raoul loved her as well, yet tenderly and sweetly. His was a comfortable, deep love, full of hope. He would protect her like a knight, not a panther. Raoul was prepared to kill the Phantom, just so that they would be able to live their life together in peace. Raoul was warm and affectionate, not distant and mysterious like the Phantom.

But he still lurked in her mind, to this day. The Phantom was emotionally labile and vehemently passionate. Just his touch had sent hot shivers though her body and awakened every nerve. The Phantom's music and voice were something that she could never, would never want to forget; they tugged at her heart but made it ache. He wanted her, needed her with all his heart and soul, she had never felt such passion. He had awakened secret, primal urges within her young mind. Now, deep in a hidden place within her, she yearned for him. She could not shake the empty feeling of his loss.

Raoul put his arms around Christine's shoulders and held her to him, kissing her cheek. They sat there for several more minutes silently, staring at the burnt out windows and broken doors, each in their own world. Cleaning crews were at work gutting out the insides of the opera house, the debris on the stairs trailing from the door like black putrescence. The façade had the appearance of a skull.

Raoul looked down at his darling Christine, wondering what she was thinking, but just letting her stare, a parade of emotions crossing her lovely face. She finally hung her head.

"Let us go now," she said in a soft voice. No tears this time.

They had started planning the wedding and all the intricacies of their future life after the opera house fire. Raoul had taken her away from it all, to stay at his family's estate. Preparations for their wedding made it necessary to venture into Paris often, especially to places around the opera house. Christine was both enthralled but also overwhelmed at the idea of the gala event of the wedding. Raoul did not push her for a date, knowing that Christine, in her own time, would schedule it. He did not want try to control her life like others had.

She has been through enough, the poor girl. He thought, as he looked at her delicate features, bordered by her soft, dark hair. Raoul had respect for her and patience enough to let her work through her problems at her own pace. Besides, armed with her love, he felt he had all the time in the world.

"How long do you think it has been?" Ventured Raoul gently, pushing away a stray lock of hair.

"Several weeks, I think," she said, her head hanging over her nervous hands which were playing with a small bouquet in her lap, a sample from the florist. She had picked out the whitest, most beautiful flowers, but not a single rose. The florist had thought it strange, not having any roses, but Raoul insisted that he follow her request exactly, supporting her blindly.

Raoul disappeared into his own thoughts at that time, hearing in her voice that she really did not want to engage in conversation. The early evening light was ominous; appropriate for what he was thinking. He remembered their ordeal deep in the catacombs of the opera house vividly. Raoul winced with pain as he remembered the pool with the iron grating, its weight stopping him from getting air to his burning lungs. He really thought he was going to die. The sick feeling in his stomach returned when he had arrived at the lair and saw his Christine dressed in a wedding gown with that man, that thing holding her. It had only gotten worse.

"Raoul!" His internal musings were interrupted as Christine clutched his arm firmly. He strained to look where her face was turned, but he did not see anything unusual.

"Christine, what is it?" he said, looking around.

She stretched out a shaky finger and pointed to a tall man that was walking away from their carriage.

"That man! I think it is... I know the design on that cloak anywhere!" Her expression faded into a curious, faraway look. Raoul caught sight of it. It was a long, sweeping black cloak with ornate black embroidery between the shoulders that flowed down the torso to the legs to a point. The design revealed itself only with light or movement.

Just the sight of him affects her so much. Raoul thought as he looked at her face.

Christine remembered the last time she had seen that design. She had studied it intensely on her trip down to the cold, dark cellars of the opera house. Between intense glances back from the pale green eyes of the Phantom, she had looked at the cloak on his back, tracing every strand of embroidery with her eyes. His broad back and slender form made the design dance in front of her. The flickering torches enhanced his stealthy but strong movements. When they arrived at the lake, he gently lifted her into his boat, brought her into his world, and thus began her journey. The dream, however, later turned into a nightmare.

In a swift, flowing movement, Raoul jumped down from the carriage and headed into the crowd after the man. He briefly turned back to face Christine.

"Stay here! I will be back."

"Raoul, no!" Fear gripped her.

Why is he going after him? Leave him alone! You have already won your fight. She could only watch in worry from the coach as Raoul disappeared into the crowds, the streets becoming darker by the second with the grey of the approaching night.

Raoul rushed in between the well dressed folk, standing tall on his toes, peering over the crowd to catch a glimpse of the man with the black hooded cloak. He spied the man crossing the street about one block away. He walked rapidly, pushing people in his haste. He started into a run when he saw the man turn the corner past the baker's shop. He did not want to lose his trail. He turned the corner just in time to see the edge of the cloak slip into an alleyway. He sprinted to the alleyway. Turning into the alleyway, he was hit by a gust of wind that blinded him temporarily. Blinking, he saw the man directly ahead. He ran up to him. He briefly wondered what the Phantom's response would be, or what his response would be for that matter. He wrapped one hand around a gun at his belt at the same time that he grasped at the hooded man's shoulder.

The startled man swung around at the feeling of Raoul's grasp. Raoul stood paralyzed, in shock. The man was a bearded, burly man with stringy, unkempt hair. Ugly as hell, but not the Phantom.

"What the hell do you want?" said the burly man, taken aback by the sight of a well dressed young nobleman in front of him in the darkening alleyway. The burly man had been heading to his favorite house of ill repute to spend some of his newly acquired wealth. He would have said more or charged at Raoul had he not caught a glimpse of the gun.

"Your cloak. Where did you get it?" Raoul said, breathing hard between bared teeth, out of breath from his run.

"What's it to you?" The burly man said, defiantly.

"Where did you get it? I will only ask once more. I know you did not buy it," Raoul said, glaring at the man and drawing his gun, pulling back the hammer.

"Ok, ok, take it easy! I found it on a dead man." The burly man twisted his face into a scowl and released an evil snicker.

The stranger on the road is most likely maggot food by now. The burly man thought.

Raoul pointed his gun at the man's chin.

"Wait man! I tell you the truth! The man was dead! Lying in a ditch by the side of a road! He was a freak! Devil's mark on his face…" The burly man put his hands up and backed away from Raoul, babbling. "I took his coat, because he didn't need it anymore. A dead body needs no warmth."

Raoul's face changed to shock, his hand with the pistol lowering. He now knew the burly man was definitely referring to the Phantom. The burly man put his hands down.

"Was he a friend of yours?" Asked the burly man, noting the shock on Raoul's face.

"No," Raoul said, too quickly. "No, he was just someone…I knew."

Without another word, Raoul put away the pistol and walked out of the alley rapidly, long before the burly man could react. He was not sure how to feel about the news. The Phantom. Dead. Lying in a ditch on the side of a road like a dog. As he walked back to the carriage many thoughts flew through his mind.

So he is dead now. I should be elated. The scourge is gone. But I cannot find joy in his demise. No one deserves to die like that. Not even him.

As the days had past after their ordeal in the opera house, Raoul, begrudgingly, had found some respect in his mind for the beast man. He remembered the last time he had seen the Phantom. It was as Christine ran to him in the boat on the subterranean lake in the lair. Raoul had looked up at the man as he lifted Christine on to the boat. It was the Phantom's boat, given to them so they could make their escape. The same face that had spat at him with hatred as he tied him up on the metal gate appeared so forlorn and devastated. As Raoul held her close, the Phantom had looked directly at him. Raoul would never forget the look. It was the look of a man getting his heart ripped from his chest. And the Phantom was standing there motionless, letting Raoul take the woman they both loved away. All that seemed to be left was an empty shell. Raoul had nodded to him silently, as if to let him know that he would take good care of Christine. In those few seconds, they were enemies no more. With that last glance, the Phantom had lowered his head in defeat. His was obviously a deeply painful decision. Raoul saw that pain and knew that he had won Christine. The Phantom, on the other hand, had lost everything.

Raoul spotted the carriage and a very distraught Christine. He walked over to it briskly, sighing as he climbed into the carriage. Christine looked at him nervously in the low light of dusk.

"It was not him," Raoul said, as he saw her worried glance. He stopped at that half truth. He would tell her of the Phantom's fate sometime later, in private. Someday. Her pretty brows crinkled and she sat down, confused.

"I was so sure that was his cloak." she said, looking back into the crowd. Raoul just held her hand and his tongue. They rode back to the manor in silence.