A/N—This little piece was written for the Tumblr 2016 Phantom Halloween Writing Contest.
The Usual Disclaimer—These characters are not mine, belonging as they do to the heirs of M. Leroux, to Sir A. L. Webber and the RUG. I thank them for the privilege of their use. All errors are unfortunately mine, and for that, I do apologize.
Thank you for reading, and please be awesome and leave a review!
Beyond Death
Copyright 2016
By Riene
"Oh, damn!" He jerked the wheel to the side violently and the car skidded sideways. The dim headlights revealed the downed tree, just barely visible ahead in the pouring rain. He sat and cursed fluently, before slowly backing up and turning the car, sweeping the headlights to see how much of the road was blocked. They could go no further. Damn the GPS anyway, for sending them on this so-called short cut.
In the backseat, the small murmurs slowly became a wail. "Hush, Jeremy," he said, doing his best to sound soothing, but the toddler continued to cry. Beside him, his wife coughed weakly, a horrible sound that rapidly became a tearing, ratcheting noise. Pneumonia, supplied a voice in his mind.
Even though he strongly suspected it was futile, Raoul shrugged into his coat and opened the door. The pouring rain immediately leaked down his collar, cold and slithering. He approached the tree with some vague idea of possibly dragging it to the side, but the idea fizzled. The tree was simply too big. They'd have to turn around.
Christine rolled the window down and called out to him weakly. "Can you move it?"
"No," he called back shortly. "Roll up the damn window; you can't get wet!"
He was on his way back to the car when his rain-blurred vision caught a distant wavering orange light coming closer. He raised and waved the flashlight.
"Help! Hello! Can you help us?"
"Please…help us." Christine's voice was weak, but she tried, dear girl.
The orange light moved suddenly closer and raised higher. The man appeared to almost materialize out of the shadows. Dressed entirely in black, with a black hat and gloves, the lantern's odd light caught in his eyes and reflected back as twin golden stars.
Looking back later, Raoul would never know quite how he found himself stumbling down the path, clutching his cranky, whining toddler, while the strange man led the way. He had scooped Christine into his arms as easily as if her weight was insignificant, and barked out a curt, "Follow me," before striding off into the woods. A path resolved itself before long, and soon the warm yellow lights of a two-story house appeared out of the rain.
The interior, though, was warm and dry, the violent sounds of thunder diminished to a dull rumble. Within minutes they'd divested themselves of the sopping coats and blanket, and the man's heavy black rain slicker and hat, leaving puddles and dripping on the polished marble floor of the entryway. The man turned, and Raoul caught his breath. There was something eerily familiar about his face, his strongly-molded features. His skin was pale, high cheekbones and forehead, dark eyes and coal-black hair that could have meant some Native ancestry, save for his pale skin, the kind of coloring that comes from never seeing the light of day, of perhaps working inside under fluorescent lights. There was something in that hard, proud austere face which softened into a human expression when he looked down at the woman in his arms.
"Christine…"
"How did you know her name?" Raoul blinked, suddenly stupidly tired.
"It is unimportant. Take your child through that door; you will find what you need." Weary and mesmerized by the strange man's melodic voice, Raoul carried the exhausted toddler away.
He had not understood until now. There had been a long period of darkness, where nothing had mattered, but now, here she was, once again in his arms. His Christine. He could give her life, as she had once given him.
Afterwards she had only the vaguest recollection of the evening of their rescue. Her chest had hurt, unbearably so, ribs aching from the coughing. It had felt like a concrete block strapped to her chest and slowly tightening. There was the sensation of being carried and the scent of sandalwood, of strong arms that cradled her against a man's chest, a cold chest that had held no heartbeat. He had undressed her, put her into a hot bath, chaffed her hands, breathed life into her failing lungs. And then, he had kissed her, a gentle lingering kiss. Her hand had risen around his neck and stroked the soft dark hair without thinking. She had thought never to feel those cool, thin lips against her own again, and her heart raced. She'd opened heavy eyes, staring into eyes that burned gold, an endless minute. "Sleep, my Christine, and be well," he'd whispered.
I am hallucinating was her last conscious thought.
They had awoken, all three in the same bed, the small boy between them. The house was utterly silent, sunlight streaming in through the dusty windows. There was no sign of their unlikely rescuer, and Raoul had wanted nothing more than to leave. Clutching his wife and child, he'd urged them out of the house and down the trail. Rain dripped from leaves, falling like tiny crystals as they walked back to the car. The tree no longer blocked the road, and the car was unharmed. Strange, he though, I don't remember moving it, but I must have. He'd buckled their toddler into his car seat and they drove away. It was not until later they thought to question her pneumonia.
She blinked slowly. "You don't understand, Raoul. Erik is dead. I helped bury him myself, five years ago. There was a notice in the online obituary column, Erik is dead. The Iranian put it there for me to see, and when I contacted him, we drove out there, to the house. He was dead, lying in that horrible coffin. Nadir had gone to check on him and found him in the house…a heart attack, maybe. He'd put his…body…in the coffin and then he and Darius came to get me."
Raoul grabbed her hands, his eyes frantic. "My God, Christine, you never told me any of this! Why did you go with them? When was this?"
She briefly closed her eyes. "It was when you were on that business trip. And I wanted the closure. They did tell me to stay here, but I insisted on seeing proof with my own eyes." She did not tell him of how she stood and clutched his icy hand, colder somehow in death, and sobbed. Enigmatic, terrifying, her captor, but also gentle, a brilliant man whose music could have made angels weep. A contradiction she would never understand, a man she had feared and loved in equal measures.
He had let her go, those black eyes full of anguish and yearning. "You could have been my salvation," he'd whispered. "I would have given you the world. I would have followed you beyond death itself. Oh Christine…" He'd fallen to his knees, shoulders bowed with terrible grief and pain. "Go now, while I have the strength to let you leave," he'd whispered, his hands twisting upon themselves. "Go now, and leave me." And she'd run, run from him, left behind the weeks of captivity that wasn't, the music that still haunted her dreams, the cold caresses which even now woke her from erotic dreams. From Erik.
With only a little difficulty Raoul found the wrong road again. Christine had sat in tense silence, staring out the window lost in thoughts he was not sure he wanted to know. The fallen tree had been dragged to the side of the road, the marks of road-crew chains still visible on it. In the daylight, it was easier to spot the trail through the woods, but as it widened into a clearing, only the blackened ruins of a formerly-grand house met their eyes. Raoul stood stunned, and Christine gasped. Only the fingers of chimneys reached upward, and vines had begun to twine themselves around the foundation. They walked forward.
"But this is it, it has to be it," he said, bewildered. "It's the same road, the same clearing."
She nodded. "It is. This is…where I stayed." He looked at her sharply.
"Where you were…?"
"Yes."
Beyond the grave I would care for you, watch over you, beyond time I will love you…my Christine…the words echoed in her mind. She heard Raoul's strangled gasp and turned. He had climbed over the fallen stones and timbers, and now stood in what had been the entry hall…and in his hands he held a navy blue jacket, a baby blanket, and her scarf.
I hope you enjoyed this Phantom version of an old favorite. Please be kind and leave a comment.
Written for the Tumblr 2016 Phantom Halloween Writing Contest.