Title: The Beguiling Beauty Underneath

Warning(s): Homosexuality, Gay people, and Violence.

Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul

A/N: There has been some major chapter combinations. This chapter is a combination of what use to be chapter's 2 and 4. So if you read this before 8/11/11 you may be confused. Also Chapter 3 is a combination of chapters 3 and 5.

A/N2: Out of school, so updated might be more frequent. It all depends on my muse.

Beta: SomethingIDontKnow

Chapter Three

Raoul's POV

Slowly I opened my eyes. I was being held. My brain was hazy and I couldn't recall where exactly I was. I couldn't focus on anything but the arms wrapped firmly around me; I didn't want them to let me go. I wanted to spend forever in these arms. It was so comfortable.

I had two options.

Option 1: Wake up.

Option 2: Snuggle deeper in the chest and go back to sleep.

Before I could make my decision, it was made for me.

I was peeled off the comfortable chest and gently arranged back on the bed. My head thumbed painfully in protest. My vision blurred and my stomach cramped horribly. I moaned pitifully and buried my face in my arm. Hissing in pain I quickly yanked my arm away as burning white-hot pain shot through me. I made a mental note not to touch my face again.

My eyes locked with his. Why was the Phantom of the Opera in my bedroom? Then the memories all came rushing back to me. I had been kidnapped, and not just by some thugs, I had been kidnapped by the Phantom of the Opera.

Oh god was the man intimidating too. He was large and imposing, his white mask standing out starkly against his dark hair. His face was chiseled but still terrifying. His eyes were burning and an unusual color, they reminded me of cat eyes. We held eye contact as long as I could stand. He refused to blink and his eyes unnerved me. They were yellow and piercing.

He wasn't what I pictured when I first heard of the Opera ghost. I expected him to be much different, less man like and more ghost like.

He handed me glass of water startling me out of my thought. "Drink slowly." He commanded

I didn't obey him, an instantly regretted it. Grasping the glass with shaky hands I brought it to my lips and gulped the water down greedily trying to cure the desert in my mouth, but instead my stomach protested horribly. Doubling over in pain I coughed, the water in my mouth dripped down my chin and I dropped the glass, which soaked me in water, rolled off the bed, and shattered on the stone ground.

The Phantom made a huffing noise, a sound I heard my father make many times when I had done some thing foolish. I looked up, and he handed me a towel. "Clean your self up." He ordered and left me there alone. I was too out of it to see where he had gone. It was like he had just disappeared in thin air

For a brief second I thought about fleeing. I knew I was under the Opera Populaire; surely, it wouldn't be too hard to find an exit. Then I looked around and surprisingly, there were no doors. There were no doors at all. I was trapped. Trapped under the Opera Populaire with the Phantom of the Opera himself.

He was going to kill me, just like he had killed Joseph Buquet. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I really didn't want to die, especially not in this god-forsaken room. My vision swam again and I felt my stomach turn.

I groaned, "No, god no." my stomach contracted again and I stood, dropped to my knees and heaved.

Unconsciousness swallowed me up again.

"Baby brother, wake up… Raoul, RAOUL!"

Slowly I opened my eyes and blinked several times. "Philippe?"

"Who else would it be Raoul? Who else calls you baby brother?" He grinned.

"No one. Where are we?" I asked looking around. The room was unfamiliar; it was an array of browns and comfortable neutral colors.

"The beach obviously. You're the one who suggested it to Father." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you okay Raoul?"

I nodded even though I didn't feel the least bit okay. My stomach was churning and I felt sick.

"Okay, well good. Father and I are going to diner, you're going to stay here with Samantha." Philippe said.

"Samantha's dead." I stated. She was my nanny when I was younger, and she had been dead ever since I was 13.

Philippe rolled his eyes, "Look I don't have time for your silly games." He sighed. Then he turned from me and walked swiftly out of the room, leaving the door open.

"Wait Philippe" I called out to him, but there was no answer. I got out of bed and wandered out the door. "Philippe!" I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find him.

I walked outside the house; we were really at the beach. It was beautiful. I hadn't been to the ocean since I was a kid. The sun was low in the sky making the clouds pink. The ocean was rough, violent waves crashed on the shore leaving a trail of seaweed behind. Some unknown force pulled me; it compelled me to walk straight into the ocean.

My eyes closed automatically as the ocean swallowed me up. Then I heard it. Music, I heard music. It was someone playing the piano. The tune was calm and it clashed horribly with the rough ocean that threw my body about. I couldn't breath, my knees scrapped on the sand.

My fingers itched. I wanted to play along side the pianist. I wanted my violin.

My eyes snapped open and I quickly sat up, breathing heavily.

My fingers still itched.

I carefully touched my face and winced. My face stung. I knew that the area around my mouth and nose had to be bright red. The are was irritated and it burned. Rubbing my eyes, cautiously avoiding my nose and mouth, I got out of bed and stood slowly, looking around. I could smell cleaning solution and a remembered what had happened before I blacked out. The notion that the Phantom had cleaned up my vomit amused me, I was half tempted to heave again and make him clean it up but I didn't.

Pausing from my thought I notice that I could hear a piano being played in the distance.

"Hey!" I knocked on the wall of the room trying to get the Phantoms attention. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. "You can't ignore me forever!"

He kept playing. I didn't know if he was actually ignoring me or if he genuinely couldn't hear me yell. The walls seemed rather thick. After a few minutes of yelling like a fool, I finally gave up and sat back down on the bed in defeat.

My head was still spinning so I closed my eyes and laid my head on the pillow.

Slowly I opened my eyes again, I must have fallen asleep. The Phantom was shaking my shoulders, "You're awake." He stated taking a step back from me. He was probably afraid I would vomit all over him. I was tempted to smile at this thought; he would surely kill me for that. The idea of the Phantom dripping in my vomit amused me greatly.

"Do you think that this time you could drink some water with out vomiting everywhere and then proceeding to faint like a woman?" His voice oozed hate, which was just what I needed, another person that hated my existence.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to work. The last thing I wanted to do was show this man weakness, and my unsteady voice would be an obvious sign. He already thought I was a woman. He handed me a glass. It was the same as the other one, just a simple glass. I took it and thanked him; there was no point in getting on his bad side. I wanted to stay alive as long as possible.

In the back of my mind, I could hear Madame Giry telling the choir's girls to keep their hands at the level of their eyes… It was too late for me though, I was already caught.

When I was done, I handed the empty glass back to him. "Who exactly are you and why did you kidnap me?" I asked.

His lip twitched and for a brief second I though he was going to smile, but he frowned deeply instead. He answered my question with a question. "Who says I kidnapped you?" He studied me for a second before adding. "And I believe you know who I am."

I gulped, so it was true. He was the Phantom of the Opera. "You kidnapped me!" I swallowed my fear and added. "Why else would I be here if I wasn't forced to be. Why am I here, what do you want with me?"

He scowled. "Well dear Vicomte, does it really matter? I think not."

"It matters to-" I was starting to get angry now. The Phantom was insufferable.

"Who's Philippe?"

I paused. "Wait, what?"

I saw his teeth grit together in what looked like frustration. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer."

The nerve of him, he demanded answers when he refused to give them to me. "I don't see why I have to tell you. You refuse to tell me just why you kidnapped me, so I refuse to tell you anything."

"Tell me now." The anger in his voice compelled me to tell him. There really wasn't any point in refusing the Phantom; it would only get me to my grave faster. I wanted to refuse him, but I didn't want to anger him further.

"Philippe is the only person I have left in the world, he's-" He interrupted me by jumping back away from the bed.

"No more! Quiet, I don't care. You wanted to know why I kidnapped you right. Well I kidnapped you because I felt like it and now if you try to escape me I might just kill you- because I feel like it." He hissed grabbing me harshly by the collar of my white silk shirt. He growled dropping me back onto the bed. I scooted back against the headboard and glared at the Phantom with all the hate I could muster, it wasn't much, I just felt hopeless, not angry. He turned and abruptly walked towards the wood wall. His back was turned so I couldn't see what he was doing but a short second later the wall receded and a passage was revealed.

I stood up and rushed over to him, but it was too late. He was gone and I was alone again.

It was a long time before I saw the Phantom again, it was at least several hours but I wasn't actually sure because there were no clocks anywhere in sight. There wasn't much in the room anyway just the bed and an antique looking table beside the bed. On the table, there was a half-used candle and matches.

That was all that there was in the room. It was bare and very depressing. This was where I was going to spend the rest of my life. Whether my life ended tomorrow or a year from now, it didn't really matter.

When I finally did see the Phantom, again he stormed in the room and tossed me a folded blank piece of paper. "I'm not going to let you go. Nevertheless, if you need to write Philippe a letter and tell him your goodbyes I will not deny you that. Just know that you had better just tell him goodbye, nothing else, don't think that I won't read it either."

I picked up the blank paper and the Phantom handed me a pen. "You're actually going to let me write to my brother."

"No, I said that you can write to Philippe, no one else. You only get one letter."

I paused. Obviously, the Phantom didn't realize that Philippe was my brother. I mentally debated for a few seconds if I should tell him just who Philippe was.

Would that put Philippe in danger?

Why exactly did I even care about Philippe?

He sure as hell didn't really care about me.

However, maybe in my letter I could drop hints about where I was. Hints that maybe someone one would read and care enough to look into. It might not be Philippe who would come looking for me, but at this point I'd take anyone. Maybe he'd take the letter to the police, or the opera managers... someone would come looking for me, at least I hoped so.

It did me no good not telling the Phantom who Philippe was. Therefore, I told him.

"Philippe is my brother."There was no use beating around the bush.

The Phantom's brow furrowed and his eyes squinted as if he was scrutinizing me. "Philippe is your brother?" He repeated back to me slowly, as if I was a mentally impaired child.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself. "That's what I said. He's my older brother." The look on the Phantom's face puzzled me. His eyes, which were normally glaring at me and terrifying, were some how different. I couldn't quite identify why though.

"Write your letter and I shall deliver it to him." He took several steps back and leaned against the wall obviously not going anywhere. "I promised you a letter to him, and I will deliver my promise."

In the back of my mind, I knew that this should be harder for me to do that it actually was. I should at least feel sorrow. This was the official moment where I left my name and title behind, and was basically dead to the world. Being a Vicomte wouldn't help me now, not while I was down in these dark and secluded tunnels.

I was completely sealed off from the rest of society, and all I could think about was that Philippe was going to go through my things and find my violin. He'd burn it for sure. I picked up the pen and began writing my last farewells to my brother.

dear philippe,

Thank you for all that you have done for me my brother. Hopefully I haven't been too much of a disappointment to you. Each offence that i have caused you, or anyone else for that matter, i apologize for.

Please. Have no harsh feeling against me. All i can say is that this is something i must do. No, don't try to come looking for me. That would not be a wise decision. Opening this letter means that i'm fine and you needn't worry. My safety is in my own hands now.

Happiness is all that i wish for you. Also for christine. So this is a good bye letter.

Many blessings to the rest of the family, Especially towards you.

m. le vicomte raoul de chagny

I signed the note quickly and folded it. Then I handed it to the Phantom. He opened it up and read what I had just written.

I worried my lip and avoided his eyes. I prayed to every God that I knew he wouldn't discover my secret message. The Phantom stared at the letter for a long time, and then he refolded the note and slipped it in his pocket. I let out a breath I hadn't known that I was holding. "You're going to take this note directly to my house?"

He nodded and turned away from me. His gloved hand pressed firmly against the wall. "A correction to your previous statement my dear Vicomte, this is your home now. You had better get use to it. You're not going anywhere." He pushed the wall and it creaked open.

"Wait!" I called out "Hear me out."

The Phantom paused and turned back towards me.

"If you're going to take the letter to my brother, would you please retrieve something for me?" I scooted over to the side over the bed and tried to look as serious and as compelling as possible.

"I don't think so." He added, "And just what makes you think that I would I retrieve something for you." He snarled at me and slammed the door shut. It crashed loudly and I couldn't help but sigh.

All I wanted was my violin.

If I was going to be stuck in this hellhole with the Phantom, I wanted a way to spend my time, some other way than laying around succumbing to my great depression. I screamed. My hands came and buried themselves into my long blonde hair and my frustrated cries echoed through out the room. I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, but how could my life get any worse?