Phantom of the Opera And Should I Love You

**Author's Notes:** I know I should be writing "teh angst" but there was this dream and ... well ... it needed to be written. This is a one shot that happens at Chagny and occurs a year after the events in "Puzzle Pieces".

And Should I Love You

Christine watched the snow falling outside her bedroom window, a sigh escaping her lips as she drew the shawl tighter about her shoulders. It had been snowing since late afternoon, a thick blanket of new snow covering the two feet of snow already on the frozen ground. Winter had been gentle in Paris as a warm wind blew from the south causing snowflakes that fell to melt as soon as they hit the streets. Winter had even been gentle here in the country, a light snow falling once or twice a week through December, just dusting the landscape with a gentle touch of tiny diamonds. It had been gentle enough to allow a family to gather for Christmas, light and laughter filling an old chateau, warming ancient stone walls with a love that could not be contained. Yet as family had disbursed back to their own distant corners to start another year, Old Man Winter had finally appeared with a vengeance. Now these last six weeks had seen a constant cycle of heavy snowfall followed by bitter cold that had changed Christine's expectations. The weather had also changed the expectations of another in the old chateau and Christine's amused laugh echoed in the silence of the bedroom.

"What, pray tell," a beloved voice began, "causes such a pleasant sound to be heard in the stillness?"

A bright smile lit Christine's face as she turned around to see her husband leaning against the closed door of their bedroom. She took a moment to study him, the changes that the last year had brought forth. Christine could feel a familiar glow spread out from her soul as she opened her arms, watching Raoul cross the room to her side. No longer did his steps falter as he walked. No longer was the mere physical exertion of everyday living exhausting to him. Raoul had gained back all the weight he had lost as he gradually resumed the life that others had tried so violently to take from him. Christine wrapped her arms about her husband, raising her head, reaching for a kiss, seeing the familiar sparkle in his blue eyes; the hair now kept short by necessity.

"Isabelle?" Christine wondered about the little necessity that caused Raoul to keep his hair short and away from grasping, pulling hands. She smiled at him as she reluctantly drew back from the kiss.

"Sleeping soundly," Raoul replied, a little smile curling his lips upward. "Dreaming whatever dreams a child dreams."

Christine nodded in reply as Raoul took her hands and led her to the bed they shared. She did not fear or worry over her child when Isabelle was in her father's care - never was a child so treasured. Christine handed Raoul her shawl and quickly got beneath the featherbed, holding the covers up as Raoul slipped into bed beside her. She settled herself into the arms held open to her, a contented sigh turning into a loud yawn that caused the chest beneath her ear to rumble with laughter. "Pray tell," Christine began a giggle in her voice, "what is it that causes such a pleasant tone to be heard in the stillness?" She yelped in surprised as a cold hand snaked beneath her nightdress.

"Minx," Raoul said softly as he withdrew his hand, wrapping both arms about his wife. He kissed the top of her head as she settled into his embrace. "And I asked first," he reminded her. "What was it that you found so amusing and do not tell me it was this unending snow?"

Christine twisted her head slightly so that she could look into the face that was looking at her own. "It was the snow," she admitted, a wry grin playing over her lips. "I was thinking that if it does not stop, you and I and Isabelle shall be forced to spend the rest of the winter here and that such action would make Philippe very happy."

Now it was Raoul's turn to sigh. "I was thinking much the same," he admitted with a shake of his head. "I worry what will happen to him once we return to Paris."

"He would not…" Christine raised her head, her brows knitting together in fear. "You do not think he will do anything foolish?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Would he?"

"No," Raoul assured her. "Philippe is not nearly that desperate." He sighed again. "But that does not mean I do not fret over him. There has been no sign of Monique's ring and the first of the year has come and gone. Isabelle's first birthday has come and gone. Now it is the middle of February and there is still no ring."

"She is not going to return, is she?"

"It does not appear that way," Raoul had to admit. "And Philippe has told me that she left Italy months ago."

"How does he know?" Christine asked.

"He has been in contact with her family," Raoul said. "They told him that Monique left Italy at the end of the summer season and they would say no more than that." He shook his head. "It would seem that she has well and truly disappeared."

Christine laid her head back on her husband's chest, a forlorn sigh passing her lips. "That is so sad," she said softly, rubbing her cheek against the soft silk of Raoul's nightshirt, settling her ear over his beating heart. "I wish she could have found the strength to forgive herself for all that happened; she and Philippe deserved to have their fairy tale ending."

"You have been reading too many stories to Isabelle," Raoul told her. "But they did deserve to be happy." He kissed his wife again. "We found our forgiveness and our happiness; I wish they could have found theirs."

Christine nodded. "As do I."

"I will talk to Philippe in the morning," Raoul said. "I have an idea to put before him."

"Whatever it is that you wish, I shall support you," Christine told him, yawning again.

"I know." Raoul tightened his hold on his wife. "Sleep now and tomorrow shall bring what tomorrow shall bring."

The next morning brought an end to the seemingly ceaseless snow as a stiff wind blew away the gray clouds of a winter storm. The sun was finally visible high in the sky, unable to do much more than cause the countryside to sparkle and shine beneath its weak warmth. People – bundled against the chill – ventured forth from behind their closed doors. Adults continued with their daily lives, grumbling about the added work required in the aftermath of the storm. Children – let loose from their confinement - shrieked with laughter as they rolled in the snow and flung the loose powder about, letting it fall in a shower of cold diamonds. And behind the walls of Chagny, a child's laughter brought a smile to the face of the uncle who had sneaked her away from her parents to play with her behind the closed door of his study.

"Say 'Uncle Philippe'," Philippe urged the child who held to the edge of the small table, bouncing up and down on little legs.

Isabelle smiled at her uncle and laughed. "Papapapapapapa," she babbled.

Philippe reached out to take his niece's hands in his own, walking her into his embrace. He lifted Isabelle onto his lap, allowing the child to stand on his legs. Philippe leaned forward slightly and kissed the end of Isabelle's nose. "No," he told her. "Say 'Uncle Philippe'."

Isabelle to continued to bounce. "Papapapapapapa," she repeated.

"Is she not a little young to be saying 'Uncle Philippe'?"

Philippe reluctantly drew his gaze away from Isabelle's face and smiled at the sight of his younger brother entering his study. Part of Philippe was still amazed to see his brother walk through the door – any door – and to see Raoul healthy and smiling further amazed him. Pride welled up within Philippe as he took note of the person who was walking toward him – Raoul was finally the man Philippe had always known he would be. Yet as Raoul reached for the child reaching for him, Philippe caught a glimpse of the innocent boy his brother had once been. It pleased Philippe to know that those men had not been able to destroy the very essence that made his brother the person he so loved.

"Papa!" Isabelle screamed as she was lifted into Raoul's arms.

"Did your Uncle Philippe spirit you away again?" Raoul asked his daughter.

"Papa," Isabelle repeated as she settled her head on Raoul's shoulder.

Raoul kissed his daughter's blonde curls and winked over her head at his brother. "I had a feeling when she was not napping in her usual spot that she had somehow managed to find her way into your study."

Philippe responded to the amused twinkle in his brother's eyes. "And Mademoiselle Isabelle has told me that she wishes to stay here with me when you and her mother return to Paris."

A puzzled look crossed Raoul's face. "Did she not say the same thing at four months of age when Christine and I originally returned to Paris?" Raoul turned his attention to the child in his arms. "Are you a prodigy, my sweet?"

Isabelle smiled at her father. "Papa," she said again as she wrapped her arms about Raoul's neck.

"I can see where her heart lies," Philippe sighed, taking delight in watching Raoul hold his own child.

"And that is something I wish to speak with you about," Raoul told his brother as he turned, walking toward the open door to the study where Christine appeared. Raoul leaned in to kiss his wife as he handed their daughter into her arms. He caressed Isabelle's head and gave her one last kiss. "Wish me luck," Raoul whispered to his wife, seeing her nod and watching her walk toward the front of the chateau, before closing the door to his brother's study. Raoul drew a deep breath before he turned around and walked back to take the seat opposite his brother.

"What is it you wish to say," Philippe asked, knowing in the back of his mind to where the conversation would head. And wondering why it took so long for his brother to bring up the subject.

Raoul studied his hands for a moment, grateful that he was looking at nails that had fully grown back, before raising his eyes to his brother. "I want you to come back to Paris with us when Christine and I return," he said as he raised his head to look at his brother.

"No," Philippe answered immediately, his head shaking slightly. "Thank you but no. Our family's duty to Paris once again belongs to you and from what I have heard it is as if you had never gone. My duty is here, at Chagny, and here is where I shall stay."

"Philippe," Raoul tried. "What is there here for you? If you were in Paris, you would be able to venture forth to the opera and the ballet and the symphony. You would be able to visit the salons and gaming houses. There are people there who would be delighted to see you!"

"No," Philippe said.

"Henri is coming to Paris for a month," Raoul said hoping that Philippe would be eager to continue to rebuild the relationship with their cousin that had almost been irretrievably broken in the wake of what had happened.

Philippe shook his head. "No."

"Didier is in Paris," Raoul said, hoping that the name of Monique's young cousin and Henri's close friend would change Philippe's mind.

"No," came the answer.

Raoul played his trump card. "You would be with Isabelle."

Philippe laughed slightly as he reached up to rub lightly at the crease between his brows. "Raoul," he breathed and composed himself. He fixed his brother with a steady gaze. "Are you asking me to join your family in Paris because you wish to have me there?" Philippe held up a hand as Raoul opened his mouth. "Or are you asking me to join your family because there has been no sign of Monique's ring and you know that means she is not returning to _Cote de Vallee_?" Philippe closed his eyes in pain for a brief moment. "Or to me."

Raoul averted his eyes for a moment, finding he could not answer Philippe's question. His attention was drawn back to his brother as Philippe rose to his feet, walking over to look out the windows of his study.

"You have no idea how often I would stare out these windows when you were gone," Philippe began softly, "waiting, watching for you to be returned to us. Even after we thought you dead, even after Christine had disappeared, I would still watch out these windows, waiting and praying for miracle." Philippe rested a hand against a cold windowpane, lost in his memory. "I have had my miracles, Raoul; I had the first one when Henri followed his instincts and we found you still alive. The second one happened when Christine returned up that drive," Philippe inclined his head to the world outside his study. "The final miracle was the birth of your daughter." Philippe took back his hand, rubbing in against his pant leg to warm it. "You and Christine and Isabelle survived the horrors of that time and have thrived over this last year. Henri and Didier have both recovered and are once again the scoundrels we love." Philippe was silent for a moment as he thought. "Even if their spirits have been somewhat tempered by what happened."

"I am aware of such things," Raoul told his brother. "I want to say that I am more aware of them than you realize; yet such words would be a falsehood." He watched as Philippe finally turned back to the room. "None of us are the same, Philippe. We have all been affected by what happened."

Philippe inclined his head slightly. "Precisely. All of us have been affected none more so – besides you – than Monique." Philippe walked to the fireplace, one hand going to the mantle, as he stared down into the flames. "She knew about Xavier's flaws for all those years and she did all she knew how to do to protect this family." His voice lowered a notch. "To protect me." Philippe could not meet his brother's eyes as he spoke of things that Monique had told him the day she bade him farewell. They were confidences and images that had haunted him ever since. "You do not know what she had to endure while Xavier lived. Didier knew and that is – in part – what drove his actions. Yet – in spite of it all – part of her loved him." Philippe heaved a deep sigh and turned to face his brother. "Xavier arranged it so that she and I could not marry and Monique – ever the lady – made the best of the life she was given. She loved him in her own way and I need to respect that."

"But she loves you!" Raoul exclaimed.

"Still the innocent child," Philippe whispered to himself and more loudly, "And I love her. I will always love her." Philippe clasped his hands behind his back. "On the day that we parted, she said she needed to find the strength to forgive herself for failing to stop Xavier. It did not matter if I thought there was nothing to forgive – if any of us thought there was nothing to forgive – Monique thought there was and that is what guided her actions. She asked me to give her the required year of mourning and I have done so. She promised to send her ring at the end of that year if she was returning and she has not." Philippe managed a wavering smile for his brother. "Not of all us get our happy endings, Raoul."

"It is not fair," Raoul grumbled.

"Life is not fair," Philippe responded. "You should know that better than most."

Raoul gave his brother a terse nod, unwilling to give voice to the residual anger that still remained for the men and actions that had changed not only his life but so many others, as well. "But that does not mean you should stay here – alone – at Chagny when Christine and I leave!"

"I am never alone!" Philippe exclaimed. "Arthur is here and a truer friend I will never have! And Mathilde continues to mother me." A genuine smile lit Philippe's face. "My staff looks after and indulges me in ways that you will never know. I do not know that they will know what to do without me!"

"But Philippe…" Raoul began and was cut-off by his brother's words.

"I do not need you to worry for me!" Philippe insisted.

"You worry for me!" Raoul retorted.

"Ah," Philippe said, "but that is what older siblings do – we worry about our younger sisters and brothers." He grinned at Raoul. "Perhaps, someday, Isabelle will learn that lesson."

Raoul could not fight the blush that crept up his neck. "Philippe…"

Philippe relented and crossed to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder. "When I am in my dotage, then I shall demand that you take me in and care for me – regardless of how large your family may be by that time. I promise I shall be demanding and crotchety. I promise I shall regale your children with fictional stories of your misspent youth. I promise that you shall find me utterly impossible." Philippe squeezed the shoulder to which his hand held. "But until that time, I want you to respect my decisions. I know what I am doing. I find great comfort here, in spite of what happened. And I know that – once again – when I cannot find you, you are only in Paris with your wife and child. I know that if I wish to visit you, I must get on a train; a simple walk to the family cemetery will no longer do." Philippe sighed. "And I thank God for that each and every day."

"So do I," Raoul said softly.

Philippe walked around so that he stood before his brother. "Finally, I want you to know that I am well with the decision that Monique has made. I am not happy with it nor am I at peace with it for I would wish a different choice. Yet I love her enough to respect that she is doing what is best for her own peace. I have moments from our youth to remember, happy moments, loving moments. These echoes from the past - and the memories they bring - are what will comfort me for my remaining years." Philippe let out a long breath. "I have loved and been loved by the most incredible woman God has ever placed upon this earth. It is enough. It shall always be enough."

Raoul nodded his grudging acceptance, raising his eyes to look at his brother's face. "I understand," the nearly whispered words slipped through Raoul's lips, a cry hovering just below the surface. "I understand."

"I know you do," Philippe said as he sank back into his chair, the pain on his face echoing back the pain in his brother's voice. "I know you do," he repeated as he reached out to lay a comforting hand on his brother's knee.

There were other comforting hands in the chateau at that moment, comforting hands that held to small ones, strong and reassuring. They provided a sense of security as a small child slowly began to learn to walk. They promised the child that she would not fall. They promised a world of love and happiness to a child that had almost not been.

"Now where would you like to go?" Christine asked her daughter as they paused in their walk throughout the bottom floor of the chateau. She was grateful for the distraction that Isabelle provided for Christine knew that Raoul would not be able to change his brother's mind. She knew that Philippe would remain at Chagny when they returned to Paris. Christine understood all too well the stubbornness that seemed to be a Chagny characteristic – she had only to watch her daughter throw a tantrum to see such a thing. She also understood the guilt that Monique bore – she still felt her own guilt each time she looked at the scars covering her husband's body. "The heart of woman is strange and wondrous thing," she whispered, understanding the deep strength and resolve needed to overcome such guilt.

"Maman," Isabelle said as she began to bounce, having stood still long enough. "Go!"

Christine laughed delightedly at the little face that was turned to look up at her. "You are definitely your father's child!" She bent over and kissed Isabelle. "Lead the way, Mademoiselle."

Isabelle continued to walk down a side hallway toward the foyer at the front of the chateau. It was a slow progress as little legs took still uncertain steps. Yet Isabelle continued to move forward, propelled by an unboundless energy and the security of a mother's love.

"Are you not tired?" Christine wondered, feeling her back begin to ache from being bent over as she held to her child. "Do you not wish me to carry you back to the sitting room? We could read a book."

Isabelle bounced up and down. "No!"

"Isabelle…" Christine sighed as they reached the end of the short hallway, the sound of the front door knocker echoing about the chateau's interior. Christine quickly swept her daughter up into her arms, wrapping her shawl about Isabelle against the cold that swept in as the valet opened the front door. Christine turned to Isabelle who was beginning to fuss when her attention was drawn by the sound of female voice. She turned to look into the foyer and saw a figure in a black cloak standing before the valet.

"Give this to Monsieur le Comte, please," the request came from beneath the hooded cloak.

Christine pulled her daughter close, her eyes closing. "Thank you, God," she breathed, her feet carrying her unwittingly her forward even as the valet disappeared down the main hallway of Chagny.

The valet stopped at the closed door to Philippe's study, knocking once and entering at the command, "Come."

Philippe and Raoul had both turned their gaze to the door, watching as the valet entered, carrying a small package in his hand.

"Pardon, Monsieur," the valet began.

"What is it?" Philippe asked.

The valet walked into the room, toward Philippe. "There is a person at the door," he stopped by the chairs where Philippe and Raoul sat, handing the package to Philippe. "They asked if I would give this to you."

Philippe looked puzzled as he took the small package.

"Who is it?" Raoul wondered as Philippe began to open the package.

"I do not know," the valet replied. "The person is heavily cloaked."

Philippe's sibilant intake of breath drew the attention of both Raoul and the valet. Raoul noted that all the color had drained from his brother's face. "What is it?" he quickly asked, concern rising in his breast for the safety of his wife and child; old fears were not quickly forgotten.

"I… I…" Philippe stammered as he looked at the open package in his lap.

Raoul leaned forward; the color draining from his face, as well, as he noted the sparkling object his brother was picking up.

The ruby and diamond ring winked in the winter sunlight that brightened Philippe's study.

"I have to go," Philippe breathed as he slowly rose to his feet. "I have to go!" he exclaimed loudly as he rushed from his study, Raoul and the valet hard on his heels. Philippe's shoes skidded across the marble flooring, stopping at the bottom of the grand staircase, his heart pounding as he saw Christine speaking to a heavily cloaked figure with its back to him.

"Papa!" Isabelle called out from her mother's arms as she saw her father standing at her uncle's side.

Philippe watched as thin hands reached up to lower the cloak's hood, gray-streaked dark hair becoming visible as the cloaked figure turned around. There was added care and extra years in the now visible face but the dark violet eyes could still catch and hold his very soul. "Monique," Philippe breathed, finding himself unable to move from where he stood.

Trembling hands moved from beneath the black cloak, reaching toward Philippe. "I love you," Monique said softly. "I have always loved you."

"Always," Philippe told her, finding his voice and his feet as he stepped forward, meeting the woman he had loved all his life halfway, taking her in his arms, holding her tightly and meeting lips that he had never thought to kiss again.

Raoul watched as Christine walked around the embracing couple. He noted the tears in her eyes as he wrapped an arm about her shoulder, her head going to his shoulder. "Everyone gets a happy ending," Raoul told her, kissing the top of her head.

"Just like all those fairy tales," Christine finished for him, sniffling back her tears.

"Free!" Isabelle announced in a voice that did not seem willing to speak in gentle tones.

Raoul reached out to caress his daughter's cheek. "Fairy," he acknowledged, fingertips lingering on Isabelle's soft skin. "Happy fairy tale endings for all."


End file.
