Title: Don't Fear the Reaper
#: 07. This is Home
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: A fic about death – there's actually only one more death in this fic that matters.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul
Warning(s): AU, reaper!Erik
Word Count: 4,132
Rating: T

A/N: This is what happens when you make a 5+1 story into something more. It takes forever to write and you get fluff chapters. That's not a completely horrible thing, right?
Story note: Look, it got updated. Weird. Thanks for everyone who's still reading. But really. Fluff-ish. You know I can't help with the angst though.

o.o.o.o

Raoul is twenty-four when he finally finds a house he wants to call home.

The past three years have been a whirlwind of cities and villages, of carriages and boats, of taverns and restaurants. The consensus amongst his peers is that he died on that journey to the North. There is no body to be found, but his shipmates had not been blind to his growing illness. It takes little convincing for them to believe that the sea has finally claimed him as it does all sailors.

The rumour is one that Raoul does not mind allowing to perpetuate. His sisters and their families know otherwise and Raoul finds he enjoys the anonymity that accompanies one's untimely death. He truly wishes that the Raoul of then, the one who had run from his family, from those who matter most to him, has died because he never wants to continue down that path again. He feels so very changed.

Still, it takes him the three years to exhaust the need to keep moving, to exhaust every new persona he assumes. It takes three years to find out exactly who Raoul wants to be. He cannot deny that sometimes during his travels, it feels as though he is still running, trying to outrun his fate, his feelings, his fear.

It is a slow process realizing that the fear will probably always be there. The certainty of death and its presence in his life is unavoidable; yet, he has never truly accepted the accompanying loss. He has long since mistaken movement as acceptance of those who have gone before him. He knows better now. Leaving behind a mausoleum does not remove the bones that lay within it.

The difference in his travels this time is that Erik is with him every step, and Raoul honestly would not want it any other way. They rediscover one another or, at least, Raoul believes is he learning to understand Erik once again. The familiarity between them feels less like a lie now because he knows that the tense line of Erik's shoulders is when he has been forced to take a life too soon or that the strength of his grasp is when Raoul does something particularly dangerous in the reaper's mind. It is a chastisement in its own way, but Erik, as much as Raoul now knows he wants to, does not tell him how to live his life. Lately, Raoul has had to fight his own urges to keep Erik from danger, to keep him safe, but they each have their own lives to pursue.

Erik disappears often enough when duty calls him away, and Raoul learns to live with the worry of his absence. He learns how to enjoy his own company, to make fast friends, to swap tales and share drinks. He stays in a town for a day, maybe more, picking up odd jobs, new skills, and using old skills he never really thought could be called an occupation. He finds that pretty words can sway anyone to buy wares or that the ache of laboring through the day is still not enough to take a smile off his face. He often makes enough to survive and when he cannot, Erik always has funds so he need not starve. Raoul asks, but Erik never says where the money comes from and most days he is content not to know. Whenever he does think about it, he imagines coins upon unseeing eyes and wonders if he should ever allow Erik to support him. Instead, he works harder to make sure he never needs anything.

He thinks he is changing with every new experience, with every new encounter, and he finds he likes who he is. He finds running is acceptable when it feels as though he is running headlong into something important. So, when he finds a job where the man wants to keep him on for longer than a couple of days, it does not take much else to convince him to finally stop. He takes his time familiarizing himself with the area and finds land just outside the small town where the old man lives. The cottage built there is secluded, near the sea but also near enough to the town that it takes only a half hour's walk to see another human if the urge ever arises.

He decides his life should be lived on the coast of Southern France as nothing but a hired hand on a small fishing boat. Somehow, he knows that Philippe is proud. He finds he is a great navigator with an uncanny ability to sense when storms will be too rough. He feels it in his bones, as though they remember the tossing of waves, the slight changes of weather. He remembers, cannot forget, the pressure that makes his chest and throat ache as a warning. He is a sailor once more, but there are no hammocks, no grog, and no night watch. There is a bed to lay his head upon and land beneath his feet. This place is not Chagny and it is far from his family, but a part of him has already settled here.

He now need only tell the reaper of his plans. He is forced to wait because Erik is gone a week and he worries not only about how his plans will be received but also for the reaper's well-being. His mind immediately expects the worst to have happened, but he is able to stifle the urge to call him. The reaper will come no matter when he calls, but Raoul always feels foolish afterwards for having taken him away from his duty. It matters little if Erik is present because that urge to call him does not abate. It is simply replaced by the urge to ask him to never leave, and Raoul cannot say those words without revealing too much.

He is embarrassed to admit that as much as he has thought about Erik, it has taken him months and years before he understands that what he feels for the reaper is more than friendship or admiration. He does not know if the cause of this affection is the constancy or the comfort of his presence, but Raoul does know that he loves him. It is a thought that should frighten him, but as with all things, he understands now that the fear is normal. This love is not even new. Raoul is certain he has always loved Erik.

Still, there are certainly several months after this revelation that Raoul tenses whenever he sees him, not quite knowing how to act with this knowledge. He sees Erik differently somehow. His handsomeness is no longer simply fact; it is something to gaze upon. His warmth pressed against his side gives more than comfort; it makes his stomach uneasy, as does any look he spares Raoul now. The sound of his voice is enough to make him smile, and he wonders if Erik sees the adoration in his eyes, if he gives himself away without meaning to.

He knows reciprocation is a useless dream; a reaper and the human whose soul he owns is no love story. Erik has had centuries of existence, of experience; there is little that Raoul could ever offer him. Only after resigning himself to this unrequited love is he able to act as he always has around him. He finds that he does not mind loving Erik as much as he does because loving him is enough, being able to is enough. Erik need not return his feelings because his own love feels so full, overflowing even, that it is easier to love in secret. The reaper need only continue being there for him, and Raoul will accept whatever he is given.

There are moments though, moments when he cannot help but hope a shred of his affection is returned. Hope, he finds, is much like fire, an unforgiving, uncontrollable creature.

When Erik finally appears, Raoul is trying to clear some brush from the edge of his property. The moment he realizes he is no longer alone, he freezes and just stares at him. It is as though a pressure is released from his chest and he can breathe deeply once more. His face feels warm under Erik's gaze and his body wants to move in a hundred different directions and yet somehow all towards Erik. His heart leaps as it always does after an absence because it is a relief and a joy to see the reaper again, his steady gaze, impeccable suit, and the wound on his face, even if a mere hour is spent apart.

He cannot stop the grin from showing even though it is a little shaky, and he realizes with creeping dread that he cannot remember how he usually greets him. He had planned to ease into this conversation; however, despite having practiced the words in his head all week, he suddenly does not know how to tell Erik his travels have reached their end nor does he know how to explain what he wants for them.

He wants Erik to call this place his home as well, but Raoul does not want to be too presumptuous. Certainly, the reaper has been by his side since Philippe's death but Raoul thinks Erik is still afraid that he will seek out his own death again. He does not doubt that the older man will visit as often as he can, but it is less about his presence and more about the implications he wants to convey by asking Erik to call this place his home, the unspoken notion that Raoul could be homefor him.

He does not have the chance to say anything first because Erik asks him directly, "Are you staying?"

Raoul shrugs in a manner he hopes is nonchalant, trying to calm his racing heart enough so that he can speak. The two-story cottage is nothing special: stone and wood with vines climbing up three of its walls. Its disrepair and prolonged vacancy are obvious. There is enough space to start a garden in the front yard and the fence around the property is in desperate need of repair. He feels apologetic on behalf of it all.

"Yes," he chokes out. He has already fallen in love with the place. He loves the quiet that is never true silence; there is so much life around him, birds singing in the mornings and the leaves rustling with the wind. The seas are different, too, the waves calmer even when they roil. "I have decided to be a fisherman," and he is pleased when the words come out steadily enough.

"And you have thought about this." There is no judgment in his eyes or in his voice as he takes the time to truly scrutinize their surroundings, and Raoul watches him intently to see any reaction, to see approval or disapproval. He does not know what he will do if Erik does not like this place. The thought had not crossed his mind; he had been more worried about asking him to stay.

Disappointed when he can decipher no emotion, Raoul turns away to look at the embrace of trees surrounding them, isolating them from prying eyes. He wonders what Erik sees. Does he see the opportunity to start a new, happier life like Raoul does?

"It is what I want. This…" He gestures vaguely, wishing he could tell Erik how he already feels like he belongs here even when the cottage remains empty of any personal items. "I am home."

"You have already bought it," Erik states.

His short replies and flat tone test the already tenuous control Raoul has on his emotions and the question is out before he can stop himself, "Do you not approve?" He is desperate to know, and turning to look at the reaper, he does not care that he should not show how invested he is in Erik's opinion. He forgets himself, stating plainly, "It is our home."

Raoul wishes he can take the words back because they finally cause the reaper to react. Erik pauses and looks pained. The expression is so quick to transform his features that Raoul wonders how he will live with the impending rejection.

"Who is she?" Erik asks and Raoul tries to hide his flinch because those had not been the words he had been expecting.

He grabs onto the fence beside him to steady himself and the entire row shudders under his touch. He takes a deep breath before asking, "Who is who?"

"The woman you have fallen for here," Erik replies brusquely. He turns and walks further under the eaves of the tree Raoul believes would be perfect with a bench beneath it. He has often imagined them sitting there. "The woman for whom you have chosen this town to settle."

Raoul follows him when he feels steady enough, ducking his head beneath a bough. When he finally understands Erik's meaning, he almost laughs. "There is no such woman." The words come out as a scoff instead. He finds the idea ludicrous, as though he has any love to spare for another after Erik has consumed him entirely. So focused on the humour he finds in Erik's query, he fails to notice that the reaper is still very tense.

Through clenched teeth, Erik prompts, "You said 'our.'"

"Yes," Raoul admits as he ducks his head. He finds one of the branches nearby fascinating as he mumbles, "Our. Yours... and mine."

The word 'mine' is barely released from his lips when the reaper disappears.

Erik's departures are rarely accompanied by any fanfare, just a slip and a whisper into nothing, but even this is quite abrupt. Erik usually bids goodbye, perhaps with a parting touch. There is none of that now. One second Raoul is very nearly admitting his feelings for him and the next he is gone.

Raoul can do nothing but stare up into the tree through the leaves into the afternoon sky and extinguish that traitorous fire of hope with a deep exhale.

o.o.o

Erik is gone for another week after that and Raoul is left wondering what he can do to remedy this rift between them. He worries that he may well never see the reaper again but realizes that would be difficult. The contract binds them together and their paths will inevitably cross. Raoul simply hopes he will see Erik before that time comes. He has spent the slow hours trying to lose himself in his work, work on the boat and work on his cottage, but even as he manages to not think of Erik's rejection, his thoughts continue to be consumed with a conversation had much long ago, of first loves and he wishes he could remember if the reaper has ever hinted at the mystery person's name.

When Erik finally does return, it is in the middle of the night and though he is silent, though the bed shifts only slightly as he sits to watch him sleep, Raoul wakes.

"Where have you been?" he whispers, voice rough and thick with sleep. He shifts, turning on his side to face Erik, and even half asleep he feels so relieved to see him again that his chest aches with the emotion.

"To speak with some acquaintances," Erik whispers in return, a gloved hand threading its way through Raoul's hair. His voice is purposely calming and Raoul fights the urge to curl up against him and go back to sleep under its thrall. Erik rarely uses that tone of voice with him and that errant thought sends a spike of fear through his system.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows takes effort, but Raoul wakes faster than normal as his eyes dart about the room. "Is something wrong? Is she back?" He does not need to say who she is.

Erik shakes his head but does not elaborate. "Everything is fine. I did not mean to worry you." He cups Raoul's cheek, hoping to calm the wild fear so clear in his eyes. "We are safe. I would never let anything happen to you." He tries not to smile when Raoul leans into his touch and is relieved when coaxing the young man to lie back down is considerably easier. "I simply did not mean to disturb your slumber."

Raoul stares at him, taking in every nuance of his expression and posture before nodding slowly. He sees that the reaper is unsure about something but is unwilling to share its source. Raoul has never been successful in making Erik tell him his secrets so he gives into the urge to curl around him instead and let his mind wander. He is too awake to fall back asleep, and being able to be this close to Erik after their last encounter, Raoul does not want to waste any second asleep. Taking courage from the familiarity and the warmth, he says, "May I ask you a question?"

Nodding, Erik gazes down at him and reaching down, sweeps the hair from his face.

"Your first love," he starts haltingly, knowing this is folly before he even begins, but he has to know now. "Have you… have you loved anyone since then?"

Erik frowns and he looks at Raoul in confusion, seemingly frozen by his query.

Raoul grabs his hand then, afraid he will disappear before answering him. "Well?"

His answer is slow and deliberate. "I do not think I could possibly love another." His gaze is elsewhere and Raoul is glad for it since he grimaces.

He has always assumed Erik could never love him in return, but to hear it so plainly stated is more devastating than he can ever have imagined. He had decided in the past few days that if he cannot have Erik's heart, then maybe he can have everything else even if that 'everything else' is simply knowledge. He wants to keep the knowledge of the reaper and the centuries of experiences of individuals come and gone, the knowledge of Erik for himself. He selfishly wants to be the only one who has known him so well. Raoul has the advantage of having known him his entire life, but all his answers only raise more questions and he wonders how he could ever possibly understand a being who has lived so many lifetimes when he has barely lived four and twenty years. This, too, is one answer Raoul is quickly realizing he may not want to know.

"You still think of her?" Erik asks.

It takes a moment to come back from the downward spiral of his thoughts before Raoul can even comprehend the words and by then, Erik continues.

"She is alive and well. In Paris."

"Paris?" Raoul repeats blankly. "Christine? Oh, no. I-" he shrugs. "I am asking about you. Christine and I. We." He does not know what to say because his last memory of her is at Philippe's funeral. Her tears had been genuine, but he is certain now as he had been then that she saw a different casket being sealed in a different mausoleum. He had not tried to comfort her; he'd had no other thought then but for Philippe.

"She is but a memory, but the one you love," he says and he does not know why he cannot stop pressing the issue.

"There has only ever been the one," Erik vaguely replies and Raoul finally releases his hand.

His own hands are shaking too obviously. "Oh." Raoul buries his face into the pillow and he wants to shrug off Erik's touch when he places it on his head to idly run his fingers through Raoul's hair, but he cannot. He could never refuse a kind touch from the reaper. His touches have only ever been kind.

His thoughts jump and he wonders if Erik's love was the other reaper. That idea is immediately discarded, but it does plant the suggestion in his head.

"A reaper?" he asks more to himself than Erik but the words are heard regardless.

Erik shakes his head. "No."

Human then and Raoul thinks that is worse. He curls tighter in on himself, but that only brings him closer to Erik and he does not know what to do when the only comfort he has now is the source of his misery. He could turn away, but Erik would wonder why. The reaper would not understand and Raoul knows it is not his fault. But, it is so much worse knowing this, knowing that he had been born too late or early or perhaps not even that. Maybe he has just never been enough, never been what Erik has wanted. That cruel hope seems to gnaw at his heart, punishing him for ever thinking otherwise.

And Raoul betrays himself again because he has come this far and he needs to know, the words clawing themselves from him before he can think twice about asking, "Did you have to take them?"

Erik is silent for a moment, considering his answer, and Raoul contemplates pulling his face away from the pillow to look at Erik's expression because of all the questions to falter once more on, why this one? He does not move, thinking it safer for him to keep his own expression hidden, lest the reaper realize the effect of his words.

"I will."

And Erik's disappearances hurt more because maybe it is not to reap souls but to see this other person, to watch them from a distance and pine because Erik cannot have her. Raoul takes in a shuddering breath and knows Erik has heard it when the hand upon his head stops its motion.

"Raoul…?" Erik leans over him, body turned and Raoul can hear the concern in his voice subtle but so very present.

He regrets asking anything, regrets needing to know and finally gathers his wits about him to know that he cannot continue this line of conversation. He ignores the tightness in his throat and the pain in his chest. Turning his head ever so slightly, he forces himself to speak evenly, "You did not stay long previously. Would you like a tour?" He pushes himself up onto his hands, purposefully looking down so that his hair falls to block his face. Erik's hand slides to the nape of his neck and Raoul shivers but does not let that stop him. "I do not own a boat yet, but it is unnecessary as of now. The old man I work for thinks me to be as a son." He laughs and it sounds hollow even to him. He peers down at the pillow and how his hands have crushed it beneath him. "He has a son though, but one ill-suited for the sea. He becomes ill just at the thought of the waves." He tells himself to say anything, say anything so that he does not have to respond to the knowledge that Erik leaves him to visit his love. "I feel for the boy. Truly, but…"

Erik reaches over with his other hand and tries to turn Raoul to look at him. His touch is gentle enough to stop his rambling, but it takes long moments before Raoul thinks himself composed enough to face him. When he does, he is surprised by the purposefully open concern and he wants to apologize for making Erik worry so unnecessarily for him.

"I have," Erik's jaw tenses a moment before he continues, "arranged a change of territories."

The statement is so apropos to nothing that Raoul only stares at him.

He elucidates, "To here."

"Can you do that?" Raoul asks, forgetting to be worried about their conversation because something must have happened for this change to occur. "Why? Are there problems in Chagny? Are you in trouble?"

He responds quickly before Raoul can ask another question, "Chagny has held very little for me these past years."

Erik's lips quirk into a faint smile and Raoul does not see it because their faces are so very close and Erik's hands, though gloved, are warm on his cheeks. He does not know when that happened or why it feels like the most natural thing in the world, but he does not care. He only thinks distantly to himself that hope is a very cruel thing.

They are caught in each other's gaze when Erik states.

"This is home."

And that phrase is enough kindling to bring Raoul's reckless ember of hope to flame, and he prays that Erik will forgive him for saying words that will send them spiraling forward once more into the unknown.

Raoul is twenty-four and he makes his first – but not last – declaration of love to his reaper.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 07

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter Review: This took forever to write. I'm out of practice so hard. Also, as a note, you can of course stop here because that sort of ties everything up. Not everyone dies and honestly, only one other person is going to die in this story and you obviously know who it's going to be.

Also, Erik's so oblivious to Raoul's turmoil… well, mostly oblivious to it. He obviously doesn't understand its source or else he would have fixed that little mix up a long time ago, but it's not as though he doesn't have his own reasons to worry about his feelings towards Raoul. He is a creature that pretty much takes people's souls. And how does he accept what Raoul's offering without seeming like he's always wanted to stay by Raoul's side? Not to mention that Raoul never actually offered in so many words. I'm rambling now. Sorry. It's been a while.