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Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s note: My dear readers. It has been a very long time since you last heard from me. I have gone through a rough time, but ultimately, it has made me a stronger person. Now, let’s see whether it has made me a better writer, too, shall we? As always feedback is highly appreciated. After all, I want to know whether someone is still reading my story, or whether it’ll only be Raoul, Erik and me for the rest of the journey. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride. Yours sincerely, Jenny Wren
Chapter Forty-Four
I had to hand it to my sisters: They knew perfectly how to behave in society. I knew that there were many men (my brother prominent among them) who thought women to be a kind of liability, especially on social gatherings. One never knows how they’re going to act, I had heard Philippe say more than once. They’re so irrational. They can’t be relied on. They will blush or giggle at the wrong moment, and when you tell them to stop, they only look at you with those big innocent eyes. It’s irritating beyond measure.
No one who saw Sophie and Clarille sit on the sofa, looking at Erik and me, could have called them irrational or a liability. I knew they had to be shocked by my bold statement, but they didn’t show it. I could hardly believe that Sophie had actually invited Erik to have tea with them.
Judging by the look on his face (at least the part of it that I could see), Erik was just as stunned as I was. I half expected him to run out again. Then again, I had forgotten that he too possessed refined manners and knew how to behave in society.
“I’d be delighted, Mesdames” he said, sitting down in an armchair opposite my sisters.
I hastened to settle down in the armchair next to him. I would have liked to take Erik’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, but I sensed that seeing it would have been too much for my sisters at that moment. Besides, Erik’s hands were busy. Already, they were reaching out for the tea cup and saucer that Sophie was handing him. Already, his tea spoon was stirring in a few drops of lemon. Already, he had started a pleasant conversation about Sophie’s home and its architecture.
Before I knew what was going on, I had been handed a tea cup as well, and we were in the middle of a perfectly normal tea-time at my sister’s house, the likes of which I had taken part in dozens of times before. It was almost a little unsettling to see how Erik managed to fit in. Of course, his clothes and the mask made him look rather extraordinary in Sophie’s sitting room, but his behaviour was friendly and polite, as were his contributions to the conversation. If someone had walked by outside the room, they’d have never guessed that the de Chagny family was having tea with the infamous Phantom of the Opera.
From the topic of architecture, the conversation moved smoothly on to the opera and the people who worked there. My sisters attended the performances regularly wherever they found the time to do so. Clarille in particular was fascinated by gossip about singers and dancers. One anecdote was followed by another. Erik even made my sisters laugh by telling them about Marie, one of the chorus girls, who was well-known for her superstition and had tried to talk the managers into giving her the day off every time a performance was to be held on Friday 13^th.
It was a pleasant conversation. It was a thousand times better than I could have hoped for. And yet... somehow, I was not content. I had summoned up my courage and told my sisters that I loved Erik, and they had not reacted at all. I had been scared of their criticism, but this was nearly as bad. I didn’t know what was going on in their heads. Did they believe that if they acted as though I hadn’t said anything extraordinary, I would forget it, too?
“And then she opened the door of the dressing room, and a black cat jumped at her!” Erik was just saying. I realised that I had missed several minutes of the conversation. “Marie ran down the corridor, as fast as the wind, locked herself in the dormitory and refused to come out for several hours!”
My sisters laughed, and I hastened to do the same, even though I had only heard the final part of the story. I didn’t want the others to notice how absent-minded I had been.
Sophie reached for the tea pot and tried to fill Erik’s cup again, but nothing came out.
“Claire!” she called, looking to the door to see where the maid was, but Clarille was already on her feet.
“I can fetch some more tea,” she offered readily, taking the tea pot from Sophie. “I need to stretch my legs a little anyway. It’s good for the little one.” She patted her stomach with a loving glance downwards.
Quickly, I jumped to my feet as well.
“I’ll help you,” I announced. “I... I need to stretch my legs as well.”
My sisters looked at me curiously, and Erik gave me a sideways glance, but I didn’t care. It had only just occurred to me that this was my chance to speak to one of my sisters alone – possibly my only chance. I had to seize it. I was not worried about leaving Erik alone with Sophie. The two of them would surely get along for a little longer, even without my presence.
I took the tea pot from Clarille and walked straight to the door. Glancing over my shoulder to see whether my sister was following me, I noticed that she exchanged a tiny smile and a nod with Sophie. I couldn’t help wondering whether they had planned for one of them to talk to me on her own, but I thought it didn’t matter either way. After all, I wanted to speak to her as well.
Clarille and I didn’t speak on our way to the kitchen, which in itself was rather alarming. We usually talked all the time when we were together. There had been rare occasions on which Sophie’s calm manner had made it hard for me to know what to say, but I had never had that problem with my younger sister. This silence was new and a little frightening.
When we entered the kitchen, the cook and two maids were standing there, busy with their chores. The moment the door opened, the cook stopped chopping carrots.
“Madame!” he exclaimed in scandalised tones. “You don’t have to fetch tea yourself. Why didn’t you call for a maid?”
“I felt like fetching it myself,” Clarille explained, handing him the tea pot.
I remained in the background, not wanting to give the cook a chance to be shocked that I had come to the kitchen as well. I watched as he filled it again, arranged some biscuits on a plate and thrust both into the hands of the maid standing nearest to him.
“You help Madame carry this,” he ordered briskly. “Go ahead! Quick!”
“No, no,” Clarille protested, taking the tea pot from the maid. I hastened to do the same with the plate of biscuits. “We can carry them ourselves.”
The maid looked from us to the cook and back, utterly confused. After a few moments, she curtseyed and went back to her original task of peeling potatoes, exchanging a tiny smile with the other maid. She seemed to have decided that although Clarille and I were not part of this household, we were higher up in the hierarchy that the cook. Therefore, our orders were more important than his. I had seen such displays of power a hundred times, and I could still not quite understand them. Being a servant had to be very hard work, and not only physically.
On our way back to the sitting room, I shared that thought with Clarille, and she agreed with me. It was an easy subject for both of us because we agreed that servants had to be treated well, but that even so, not all problems among them could be avoided. I knew that it was not the topic we had to discuss, but at least we were talking again. Everything was better than that long awkward silence.
Shortly before we reached the sitting room, Clarille stopped at a door which I knew led to the library.
“Don’t we want to go in here for a moment?” she asked. “I... I want to show you something.”
I nodded and followed her into the room. Not for a moment did I believe that she really wanted to show me something, but I was curious what she would come up with. My sister’s ideas were very ingenious at times.
Clarille and I put down the tea pot and plate on a side table next to an armchair. She then led me to one of the bookshelves.
“Look at this,” she said, pulling out a heavy, very old-looking book. “Sophie told me about it. A marvellous description about a travel to India.”
I merely looked at her, raising an eyebrow in polite disbelief. That was the best she could come up with? She had to be very nervous.
“I know that book,” I told her quietly. “I was the one who gave it to Sophie as a birthday present last year.”
Clarille blushed.
“Oh...” she made. “Right. Well...”
“Do you wish to discuss my relationship with Erik?” I asked bluntly.
“Well...” she repeated. “Now that you mention it...”
I couldn’t bear to watch her squirm like that. Clarille had always been the most open of all us siblings, saying the things others were afraid to say. I pulled her into a brief, but heartfelt embrace.
“I am sorry that I’m causing you so much trouble,” I muttered when I let go of her after a few moments.
“You’re not causing any trouble,” she protested, shaking her head. “It’s just... I’m worried about you, little brother. What’s... what’s happened to you?”
“I have fallen in love,” I replied simply.
Clarille didn’t say anything. She turned away from me and walked over to the window, staring out into the garden. I joined her. For a few minutes, we simply stood there, she on one end of the window and I on the other. I wanted to hear what Clarille had to say – after all, it was the reason I had come here – but I knew better than to rush her into anything. I needed to give her time to think, to take in the new situation.
“It’s our fault, isn’t it?” she muttered, just when I had given up hope that she’d start talking anytime soon. “Sophie’s and mine.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered. This was not a reaction I had expected.
Clarille didn’t look at me, but continued to gaze out of the window as she explained:
“We left you alone with Philippe. We moved out to lead our new lives, but we didn’t stop to think what would become of you, even though we knew Philippe would not look after you properly, would not give you the love you needed. We were so happy for you when you met Christine again because, whether she was suitable as your wife or not, she loved you. You must have felt so alone when she... passed away, but again, Sophie and I were too occupied with our own lives to help you. Philippe has always been useless at understanding how other people feel, let alone help them when they need it. It’s no wonder that you turned to someone who understood your grief.”
At that point, she turned towards me, and I was startled to see tears in her eyes.
“Really, Raoul, I understand,” she finished in a small voice. “He is an unusual choice for a friend, but... I understand.”
I bit my lip and glanced at the floor, not sure what to say to her. It was a comforting thought that my sister understood and approved of what had indeed been my initial reason for turning to Erik. Yet that comfort was dwarfed by the disappointment that settled in the pit of my stomach like a stone falling into a well. Clearly, Clarille did not understand that I loved Erik in the same way that she loved her husband. She seemed to think he had become my best friend, maybe like a replacement for the kind older brother Philippe had never been.
Yet, how could I say something like that to her, when she was so anguished about her presumed part in my loneliness and misery? How could I explain something so complex that I didn’t truly understand myself?
“I love Erik,” I told her, slowly and clearly, looking her straight in the eye. “I love him, Clarille. The way you love Alexandre and Sophie loves Richard.”
My sister still looked as though she didn’t take in a word, so I decided to become more specific.
“We love each other,” I stressed. “He and I... we... you know...” My voice trailed off as I vaguely gestured at my body, feeling embarrassed and angry at myself for having mentioned in the first place something that I knew I couldn’t get through with. Clarille and I could happily discuss most topics, but the physical aspect of love was not one of them. I doubted whether even Sophie and she talked about such things.
Clarille’s eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
“What?” she muttered after a moment, letting her hand fall limply to her side. “You mean he and you... share the same bed?”
I nodded briefly. For a fleeting moment, I had to suppress the urge to smile. Not only the same bed...
A new expression came into my sister’s face. The anguish and pity were still there, but now there was something else... anger.
“He took advantage of you!” she exclaimed, her voice rising along with her temper. “You came to him to share your grief, and he took advantage of you when you were most vulnerable! He... he...”
Clarille’s outrage momentarily rendered her speechless, and I seized my chance at once.
“No!” I shouted, my temper rising as well. She was my sister, and I loved her dearly, but I would not let her turn my relationship with Erik into something ugly and hateful. “Erik would never do that! He loves me! What we have is beautiful. Come with me!”
I grabbed my sister by the hand and marched her across the room. I yanked open the door and pulled Clarille back down the corridor towards the sitting room. She protested, but I ignored her. My actions were fuelled by anger. There was no room for conscious thought.
I could hear the voices of Sophie and Erik through the door to the sitting room as I paused briefly in front of it, fumbling with the door handle.
“What is wrong, Raoul?” Clarille asked, gasping for breath as we crossed the threshold and I let go of her.
“Raoul?” Sophie and Erik jumped to their feet in alarm as we came hurrying into the room. Sophie pressed a hand to her stomach, and Clarille echoed the gesture.
I made straight for Erik.
“You think that Erik is only my friend, or that he took advantage of me!” I called as I went, addressing both my sisters. “Well, you’re wrong! I love him, and he loves me, and everything we do happens because we both want it! We’ll show you!”
With these words, I pulled Erik into a bone-crushing embrace and pressed my lips against his. Our teeth bumped against each other, and I tasted blood on my tongue as I pushed it into his mouth, but I didn’t care.
I would show them.
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Emptiness