Christine dans Deux Chapter 79: Do You Believe?, a phantom of the opera fanfic

Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse – A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Seventy-Nine – Do You Believe?

"I've been driving almost six hours and it's just about eight o'clock. I need to stop and get some petrol."

Keeping one eye on the gauge and the other on the road signs, I sigh and think about my argument with Madeleine again.

"Everything she said made perfect sense and yet, I just can't help thinking that there's got to be something more. Something more than one night stands, reams of unfinished music and a life not lived."

I rub my eyes and run my hand through my hair.

"There's just this feeling that I'm missing something. And then, there are the dreams I keep having."

Vague images of a petit woman dressed only in a smile and long dark hair flash into my mind. I swear I can feel her hand on me, warm and wonderful as she guides me inside. My body responds as it always does and I curse my weakness.

"Fuck! That's get a hard on over a dream. Drool over someone that doesn't even exist. What a bloody idiot I am!"

Thankfully, a sign advertising petrol diverts my attention so I pull off the road and drive up next to the pump. The station is old and the pumps look like working antiques. Thankfully, I notice a handwritten sign, which informs me that an attendant must pump petrol, so I remain inside and wait. After a minute of waiting with no one making an appearance, I look at the office more closely and realize the station is closed. Sighing, I exit my car and walk to the door. The little sign informs me that the station doesn't open for another hour and a half. I groan.

"Bloody hell!"

There is a tattered map taped to the inside of the office window. A red arrow seems to indicate the location of the station is at the turnoff to a town named, Coldwells.

"Bleeding Christ! I can either go back down A90 to A975 and head to Cruden Bay or keep on A90 and go to Boddam. Boddam looks closer. Fuck! I probably won't make either one. I'm on fumes as it is right now. Shit! Fuck! Damn it! I don't know how, but somehow this is all your fault Madeleine! Fucking bitch!"

My instinct makes me want to lash out and break something, but I take a deep breath and reign in my temper.

"It's not a good thing to lose your temper in the country. It'll only bring you more grief. Come on! Let's give it the old school try!"

I slowly walk back to my DB7. The vehicle always soothes my rather fractious temper. I can't help but appreciate the sleek lines of the body and my gentle smile becomes a grin as I remember the article Autocar magazine published about my particular DB7 V8.

"I'd really pissed Madeleine off when I had the DB7 built to special order by Works Service. I thought it hysterical when I'd seen the article in Autocar Magazine who called me, 'a wealthy customer.' I wondered if anyone really understood exactly what I'd done to the car and why, but shrugged it off. After all, having an off road car with a 6.3 litre version of the 48 valve Marek V8 when you live in Scotland is almost a necessity, in my humble opinion, of course. The only tells to give away the custom work done on the car are the 'driving dynamics' body kit, the very discrete 'V8' badges and the bonnet's noticeable power bulge, which covers the 452bhp engine."

My temper recedes as I open the door and settle behind the wheel.

"Yes, I must definitely find my lady a drink! What the hell do I need with a wife when I have this fine lady?"

Turning the engine over, I pull away from the station making sure I press gently on the accelerator. A quiet voice inside my head whispers a rebuttal to my protestation.

"You may not need a wife, but your dreams say that you want one. A certain one."

"Shut up!"

That growled comment effectively silences the voice for the moment.

♀♥○♦○♥☼♥○♦○♥♂

Two kilometers later and the engine sputters, then dies. Spotting a muddy trail, I pull my car off the road and coast to a stop. The air inside the car becomes blue with the invectives to which my mouth gives voice. When I have at last exhausted my supply of swears and the red recedes from my vision, I find myself staring at a black older model Mini Cooper. Climbing out of my car and closing the door, I walk to the Mini to check it out. Noticing the tire tracks in the mud, I feel relief.

"Seems to me that it couldn't have been here too long if I can see the tire tracks. I wonder where the owner is."

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I hear a woman's voice singing. After listening for a moment and concentrating on the direction from which it is coming, I grab my keys, lock up the car and begin to track down the owner of the voice.

"She is singing an old Billie Holiday song, "All of Me." And, she is singing it quite beautifully."

"All of me,
why not take all of me?
Can't you see
I'm no good without you?

Take my lips
I want to lose them.
Take my arms
I'll never use them.

Your goodbye
left me with eyes that cry.
How can I
go on being without you?

You took a part
that once was my heart.
So, why not
take all of me.

Your goodbye
left me with eyes that cry.
How can I
go on being without you?

You took the part
that once was my heart.
So, why not
take all of me."

Music & Lyrics by G. Simons & G. Marks

I round a boulder and the sight before me shocks me to my very core. My feet feel as if someone cemented them to the ground. The owner of the voice sits perched on a rock with her back to me before a canvas, which rests on an easel with her paints and brushes set-up around her. She is a small, curvaceous yet slender dark-haired woman with alabaster skin.

"She fancies suede and leather … just like you, Erik."

My thoughts cut short as she begins to sing another Billie Holiday song, "Good Morning, Heartache."

"Good morning, heartache,
you old blue sigh,
good morning, heartache,
thought we said goodbye last night.
I turned and tossed until it seemed you had gone,
but here you are with the dawn.

Wish I'd forget you,
but you're here to stay.
It seems I met you
when my love went away.
Now every day I start by saying to you,
good morning, heartache, what's new?

Stop haunting me now.
Can't shake you no how.
Just leave me alone.
I've got those Monday blues,
straight thru Sunday blues.

Good morning, heartache,
here we go again.
Good morning, heartache,
you're the one
who knew me when.
Might as well get used to you,
hanging around.
Good morning, heartache,
sit down."

Music & Lyrics by I. Higginbotham, E. Drake & D. Fisher

Her voice stuns me with its unearthly beauty and with the overwhelming sense of sorrow contained in that voice. I have never heard anyone sing with so much emotion before.

"How could anyone know that much sorrow and still sing so beautifully?"

My heart dubs her my Cathy and I, her Heathcliff.

"How fitting it is that we meet on the moors … well, almost …." I smirk.

Before I can move or make a sound, she begins to sing again. My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the song.

"Wuthering Heights? It's almost as if she can hear my thoughts …."

"Out on the wily, windy moors
we'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
when I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.

Bad dreams in the night.
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
leave behind my wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me. It's Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
on the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love,
cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
my only master.

Too long, I roam in the night.
I'm coming back to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me. It's Cathy.
Come home. I'm so cold!
Let me in-a-your window.

Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me – Cathy!"

Music & Lyrics by Kate Bush

I almost turn and walk away as I feel embarrassed interrupting her solitude, but my feet still refuse to move. Then I realize that my mouth is hanging open and I'm staring at her like a lunatic, so I shut my mouth and shake my head. I close my eyes and try to regain my composure, but her voice has awakened a longing in me. The voice inside my head whispers.

"She is the one."

"Shut up!"

I clap my hand over my mouth as the words escape my lips. The woman's body gives a slight start and then goes very still. Her left hand holds a brush hovering just above the surface of the canvas. And then, a trick of the wind saves me. I hear distant voices, a man's voice shouting and a child's voice answering. Her head scans the horizon and just before she turns to look in my direction, I duck behind a boulder.

"What am I doing? I wanted to find someone to help me get petrol and I've found someone, but now I'm hiding."

The voice whispers, "You don't want her to think you told her to shut up …."

"Aw … please? Give me a break! Let me think!"

The silence broken only by soft, urgent sounds coming from the direction of the woman.

"Damn it! She's spooked. She's packing her gear. She's going to leave. Aw, bloody hell! It's now or never, Erik. Do or die. So what are you gonna do?"

My body answers my question as my feet start to move and I find myself walking back around the boulder towards the woman. She is swiftly packing her art supplies into a backpack as she continually pauses to scan the horizon.

"What's she so nervous about? It's almost as if she's afraid. Well, here goes something, I hope."

I clear my throat and open my mouth to speak, but the words freeze in my throat, my mouth hanging open as she whirls about to face me, reacting to the sound of my throat clearing.

"My God! Her face! She is absolutely hideous!"

I turn and run with the sound of her crying ringing in my ears.

♀♥○♦○♥☼♥○♦○♥♂

The spectral woman stands watching the man run from the disfigured woman. She sighs and a single tear runs down her perfect cheek.

"So, this is to be my punishment? I must forever watch as we meet and one of us rejects the other. If this is my fate, please just let me die. Unless, I can know that somewhere he is happy. That somewhere he has love. Please? Oh, please?"

She screams her demands to the silent heavens and then her body falls to the ground as she dissolves into nothingness.