Title: Don't Fear the Reaper
#: 02. Come, Sweet Dove
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: A fic about death - as in, everyone you care about dies; this is not an exaggeration. A fic wherein the Chagny family is of intense interest to a soul reaper.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Warning(s): AU, reaper!Erik, canonical character deaths, slightly gruesome
Word Count: 2,279
Rating: T
A/N: I don't think I can post this quickly. I am trying, trying very hard. And succeeding only marginally.
Story note: Read the warnings. Don't read if you don't want to read about death.
o.o.o.o
Raoul is five when their carriage overturns.
He does not remember exactly how it happens. The road is bumpy, but it has been bumpy since they left the city. He finds it exciting because it reminds him of his riding lessons, and that thought only serves to make him more energetic because that is why they are going to the country. His parents are buying him a horse, a pony. Raoul wants a horse though. He is big enough, he thinks.
His mother has just finished telling him to stop squirming, and when he wakes up, everything hurts. He does not remember falling asleep, but he knows he must have because the world is on its side and he cannot see. He is cold. A mix of blood and tears in his eyes blurs his vision even more in the darkness, and his first thought is of his mother. He wants to cry for her, but he does not know where she is. He cannot find her; he cannot see. When he does try to shout 'Maman,' all that comes out is a cough, tasting of blood and dirt and woodchips. He shifts and does not move very far. A sharp pain runs down his side and his cries turn into more coughs, making him try to curl into himself.
His mother should already be here, picking him up as she always does when he falls and sitting him on her lap asking where it hurts. Everywhere, he wants to tell her. He needs one of her hugs. She had been sitting right beside him in the carriage with his father across from them. They should be close enough to reach and he stretches out his arm, hoping to feel them. His arm does not move much from where it is pinned beneath him, but for a second, he thinks he can feel one of them. He wonders where they are. His father should be crouched in front of him, telling him he is stronger than the pain, and with him there, he would believe it. Right now though, it hurts too much and his nose is running. He does not remember how to be strong.
He can hardly breathe and his whole body hurts like the time he fell from climbing the tree in their backyard. His chest feels heavy, but he knows he is whimpering. He knows because when the blurs finally sharpen, he sees the legs of someone turn to him as though the person has just realized that he is there. That may just be the case because he is now beginning to think that the pressure on his back is a piece of the carriage weighing down on him, covering him, and because they had left in the morning. It could not be night already.
When the weight is lifted, the sun shines in his eyes and the face of the woman he does not recognize fills his vision. She is beautiful, her skin pale and flawless. Her chin is sharp and her nose thin. Her hair is black and wavy. It is left down and he distantly thinks it odd because only his sisters ever wear their hair down as such, and even then, his mother often chastises them for it. The woman wears an elaborate black gown, part tiny black beads, part embroidery. It makes no sound as she moves though.
He whimpers again. She grins as reaches out a gloved hand to him, and even though he does not think he can, he scrambles backward. Some instinct within him tells him to escape, to not let this woman touch him because something bad will happen. He does not like her grin. Her eyes make him feel cold even though sunlight is finally falling upon him.
"Come, sweet dove," she coos at him.
Eyes wide, he shakes his head even though it hurts his neck. More blood slides down his left temple, down his eye and he blinks it away. In that moment, he thinks her eyes turn pure black from their brown. He turns, fully intent on crawling away even though he knows crawling is only for babies. A gloved hand grabs him by the back of his shirt, and the woman takes great pleasure in dragging him backwards before lifting him.
He lets out a wail, calling, "Maman! Maman!" even through the coughs he cannot suppress.
The woman laughs louder and turning, she thrusts him outwards, his legs dangling and his shirt choking him. "Here is your mother."
Raoul sees her then, lying on the floor and he stops calling. Her body is positioned in a way that his brain can only comprehend as wrong, so very wrong. She looks at him, but her normally warm gaze is blank and the smile is replaced by a gaping mouth, opened in a silent scream. With energy borne of fear and desperation, he kicks and twists out of the woman's grasp.
That cannot be his mother.
He feels the drop to the floor as but another sting of pain among all the others so he ignores it. He can ignore it because he can hardly feel his body any longer. It feels cold again and all he knows is running away. He has to find his mother; he must find her, the real her. On bleeding hands and knees, he crawls over carriage debris and unforgiving rocks. The woman cannot seem to stop laughing.
An iron grip that clamps on his ankle jerks him backwards, and his chin slams against the ground. He bites his tongue and just like that, the pain has returned completely. He cannot do anything but cry harder and curl into a ball hoping for his mother or his father to save him. The woman grabs a fingertip of the glove of her free hand between her teeth and slowly removes it, revealing not flesh but bones, bleached white bones that she moves. Her fingers flex and curl and Raoul only belatedly realizes that he is screaming and he cannot stop.
She reaches for him with that hand and he is frozen in place. His throat hurts and the taste of blood seems heavier, but all he can do is scream and stare as her hand moves closer. Before she touches him, he is lifted up easily and strong arms hold him close. More importantly, he is pulled away from the woman. He clutches his saviour's neck, legs wrapping around his waist, clinging to him. He buries his face into the man's shoulder and shuts his eyes, willing the woman away from him.
"This one is mine," the man says, and the voice sounds so familiar that Raoul does not bother to figure out why. It only confirms his belief that he is safe now. He is finally safe. He holds on tighter with arms that ache.
"Is it?" The woman sounds contrite, but she grins unapologetically. She leans forward and feigning confusion, she insists, "This cannot be the one." As she holds the glove in her hand, she meanders closer to them.
The man steps away, attempting to maintain distance between them because he has not failed to notice that she does not put the glove back on. They circle each other.
She comments idly, "I was not going to take him."
It is an honest answer only because he knows that the young boy would have suffered a fate far worse than death at her hands. "I know." He holds Raoul tighter to him as they continue making slow circles around each other. He knows she is waiting to attack.
"I was merely here," she motions around vaguely and kicks at splintered wood. "When the carriage overturned, I did not want them to suffer long." She cannot even make her voice sound empathetic by this point. She is mocking him and lying to his face because she knows this is his territory. She knows what this family means to him.
At her words, Raoul finally pulls away to look for his parents once more and the man is too distracted keeping track of the woman's movements to stop him.
"I am certain you would not have wanted them. They were too far-gone after all." She stops circling him finally and adds disdainfully, "You could not have made any more bargains."
"Oh no," he replies with false kindness. "I know you need them. We would not want you to be chastised once more."
The woman scoffs and takes a threatening step forward. The only sign of the man's response to this warning is the fact that he switches to hold Raoul with only one hand so that he may defend if he must.
"That is why you must poach on other territories, is it not?" The man continues, taunting, "I was rather surprised to find you still here. I would have imagined you to have scurried off once more."
Raoul does not hear their conversation. When they stopped moving, he could finally see his parents. He sees the bodies. That body, those blank eyes and lax mouth are his mother. Blood is spilling from her nose, a trail of it going up her cheek since her head is tilted back. Her leg is twisted behind her, her spine an awkward arc. His father beyond her is turned on his stomach. His face is hidden and his arm is twisted at a severe angle beneath his body. A piece of wood sticks out of his side and there is a puddle of blood growing from him, spreading out into the dirt.
"You think you are so much better," she spits out, then gesturing at Raoul, accuses, "Flagrantly breaking the rules. You think they do not notice? You think you are above us all!" She approaches him.
"I am able to do what is required and when it is time. I do not let souls fester," he retorts and even though it is against all his instincts, he backs away from her. He knows he must keep Raoul safe and confronting the other reaper even if she is challenging him would put Raoul in danger. "You leave them to become disgusting creatures that must be destroyed."
She lunges at him, skeletal hand out-stretched. The man is faster. He has centuries of existence longer than this reaper, but she is not aiming for him. She is aiming for Raoul. He overextends himself, his balance thrown off with the extra weight, but while it is a close thing, he is able to save them both.
Raoul whimpers as the world spins suddenly; the road, debris and his parents all blur as the man holding him ducks and dives to avoid the woman. He feels every sting and ache of his muscles with each movement, but he worries more about what the woman will do if she catches them. He clutches at the man, but he is easily ripped from his savior with a sudden pain in his side. A long piece of wood sails to the floor beside him as falls onto the unforgiving road once more.
His head is buried in his hands and he coughs at the dirt in his mouth. Struggling to get up, he is almost to his knees when he is knocked down, a heavy weight crashing upon him. It is not an attack. An arm holds him close and the man lets out an inhuman scream of pain. Raoul curls into himself tighter, wanting to see what has happened but too frightened to move. The screaming has yet to truly die down and even though the weight lifts off him almost immediately, he stays where he is, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to cover his ears.
She approaches him. He can somehow hear her footsteps through the screaming. He thinks he is screaming too because she is taunting him even though he cannot decipher the words. The sound of her voice alone is a taunt. Her laughter worms its way past his hands and into his ears and she is getting closer. He cringes, picturing the manic glee on her face that he had seen earlier, but then it stops. She stops speaking, stops laughing, and her footsteps simply stop.
There is a heavy pause where everyone is silent. All he can hear is his own ragged breathing.
Then, a sound like a carriage wheel over loose gravel fills the air and her body drops bonelessly to the ground. The man has his hand buried deep within her back as she gurgles and twitches one last time before stilling. The man watches her die with no small amount of remorse, only an expression of disgust as he removes the hand he had buried within her chest.
Raoul does not move when he hears footsteps approach him. He knows it is not the woman and when he is lifted up gently, quiet words soothe him. He tries to look up at the man's face but a gloved hand covers his eyes and Raoul instead turns his face into the man's shoulder. Once he is settled against the strong, warm body, he cries. It finally feels like he can cry in something not of fear for his life. He cries because he hurts; he cries because he can still see his mother and father on the road.
The man turns his head to whisper in his ear. Raoul does not recognize the words, but his body feels heavy and finally free of pain. It is not difficult to drift off to sleep.
Raoul is five and he is the only survivor of a horrible carriage accident.
o.o.o.o
End chapter 02
A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: What!? Erik is deformed because he saves Raoul from another reaper? :D Yes.
Also, I don't know why I am convinced that Raoul's parents die by carriage accident. There are a hundred other ways to die that are more plausible, but carriage accident is my go-to kill Raoul's parents convention. Apparently.