Author's Note: This is my second fan ficiton. Please R&R.

Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue. Wait, Catherine and Philippe are mine, so plese ask before you use them. Thanks.

Catherine allowed the tears to flow freely, as her sister-in-law's coffin was lowered into her untimely grave. As she wept, she seemed to smell the sour soot of the fire that had destroyed her brother's family. Brother, how that word tasted bitter in her mouth. It was the fault of his stupidity that she had died and that his son, her nephew, would forever be shunned. If only he had not left that candle in the library, if only he had had enough courage to save them, and she was certain he could have. Though her tears had not even begun to subside, she glared at her brother accross from her. She could not feel pity for him, though Christine had been his wife. She was certain that if Christine had lived to see how he treated his own son, she would have left him. Phillippe, Raoul and Christine's son, had escaped the fire with his life, but had been so badly burned that there were few who would look at him, and much to her disgust Raoul had been one of the ones who refused to see him.

She still hadn't told the Viscout of her plan to leave, though she doubted he would object. As the funeral finally drew to a close, she walked over to the brother whom she had come to loathe. She, like he, gracefully accepted the sympathies of those who had come. At last they were the only two left, and in stifiling silence walked back to the carriage. She continued to shoot an accational glare at him, but chose not to speak until they neared the home which had formerly only been used during the summer. "Raoul, I wish to leave, and I'm taking Philippe with me." she stated, as calmly as though she were commenting on the weather. The shock was evident on his face, but as she had predicted, he did not protest that she would take Philippe but that SHE herself would leave.

"Catherine, why do you wish to leave me now in what may be my saddest hour? You are my sister, and yet you show no pity toward me, now that I have lost my wife and son."

Her anger flared out of control. "This is why I leave. You have not lost your son! He is still alive, and yet you ignore him! How it would hurt Christine to see how you treat her child now! I am leaving so that I may be rid of your presense. You sicken me! You, seemed to love your son, now turn your back on him when he needs you more than ever! I shudder to think what would happen were he lift in your care. That is why leave and that is why I am taking him with me. You no longer have the right to call him your son, and from this day on I will deny having ever been related to you!" She screamed at him. The shock was evident on his face, but she did not care. Angrily she stormed out of the carriage, and rushed through the entrance of what she could no longer consider to be her home. As she swept up the grand staircase toward Philippe's room, she finally stoped and calmed herself. She refused to let her anger show around Philippe. He had enough problems of his own without her adding her own.

Slowly she opened the door to the young boy's room, her eyes filling with a sorrow she could not stop. He was barely three years old, and his future had been taken from him. Though she, herself, could not be repulsed by her nephew, she knew most would be. Wasn't Raoul, the boy's own father evidence of that? Silently she entered the room which she felt was much darker than it needed to be. Disobeying Raoul's order that the curtains be drawn, she pulled them wide open to let some fresh air in. Philippe sat up on his small bed and smiled at her as best he could. She smiled back and granted his silent plea to pick him up. She began to talk softly to him, knowing that it would be years before he could understand why they were leaving.

Much to his disappointment, she sat him lightly on the bed so that she could pack, but she handed him a sweet so that he would not cry. Catherine knew that she could never fully understand how anyone could not love this sweet child, as her brother seemed to. As she finished packing Phillipe's things, she smiled at him, and closed the suitcase which shut with decisive click. Having packed and stored her things the night before, she lifted both the suit case and Philippe, and headed down the stairs of her family home for the last time. Almost to her disappointment, her brother had not even bothered to be there to say good-bye to his son. Rather than let that anger her, she simply let it help motivate her to leave as soon as possible. Without further pause, she strode toward the doors, pushed them open, and walked through letting them close behind her.

Unknown to her, Raoul was watching their departure through his study window. He almost went after them, but when he saw the burned remains of his son's face he could not bring himself to.

Catherine waited as the cariage she had ordered pulled up, and without further hestation, climbed in, and called to the driver "To the Opera Populaire."

Author's Note (again): I know the beginning is not great, but I would still love a review, even if it's only a couple of words. I will try to update soon. Flames will only be used to light the candles on my Chandelier.