This is another experimental piece. Hopefully, it's not too "implausible" (but I still think this has a higher chance of happening than the events in LND). Anyway, thank you very much for clicking and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Phantom of the Opera"

Erik is dead.

Oh, how simple those words sounded! How easy it would be if they were just words on paper. Raoul le Comte De Chagny, watched helplessly as his wife sobbed into his arms. Relief? Anger? Sorrow? Everything?

"Christine, dearest," he repeated softly, hugging her to his chest. If only he could take her pain! If only he could take all of it!

"I must, oh, Raoul! I must, I- I!" she cried, pressing herself against him.

"I'm terrible, Raoul! I'm terrible!"

His heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest. How could she not see how her suffering was paining him? Two weeks had passed with these self insults, this constant sobbing, this misplaced guilt.

"I need to go- but I cannot!" she moaned, "I cannot go back!"

How frail she was! How sickly she was becoming each day, the pallor, the bags below her eyes.

"Raoul- I cannot even do that for a dead man!"

How many doctors he had invited, how long she slept, it made no difference! No avail. He never knew how it felt to hate another so much then! How he hated that monster, for all the pain he had put him through, put Christine through, for the death of his beloved brother, for torturing them even through death! If he could turn back time, he would stop Christine from going back to the cellars, he would kill the ghost himself, he would stop it all from happening- if only!

"I'm horrible, horrible!"

"No, no, no, your'e not! You're an angel, Christine, an angel through and through!"

The anguish would not leave.

The young man kept his eyes downcast as he made his way pass the various displays, attractions, and stands. How ironic life was- a few months earlier, he would never even have considered coming to a place like this! The humiliation of being discovered was enough.

But Raoul De Chagny would do anything for Christine Daae. Anything at all.

Swallowing his pride, the noble marched into the tent of The Amazing Madame. He was truly desperate for assistance- if science had failed him, then perhaps magic could compensate.

The inside of the tent was not as showy as he had expected it to be. There was nothing but a stark wooden table and a small old woman in a rocking chair, her eyes closed, hair in a ragged turban, mouth open in a strange hum.

"Pardon me."

The woman took no notice. Raoul felt a strange sense of discomfort as the dim candles flickered beside them. She raised her arms, jewlery dangling, stretched her gnarled hands, and brought them back down. Her eyes opened to slits.

"You seek the Amazing Madame, yes?"

The comte nodded.

"Come here, lad, and let me tell your fortune."

"Madame, I'm not here to read my fortune."

She looked at him expectantly. Holding back a sigh, Raoul walked up to the Madame and stood before her. She asked for his palm and he obeyed. A sharp prick of pain made him hiss and pull back, cradling the hand in shock.

"My word!"

Blood dripped from the cut in his palm onto the shabby table. The young man clutched at the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The pain increased, and Raoul stumbled. He had been cut in the hand before and he knew that what he felt- that was not the sensation.

"What did you do!"

The Madame ignored him, continuing to inspect the needle that she had pricked his palm with. Sticking it into her own palm, she began to hum again, leaving the comte staring incredulously.

"Dear boy, handsome boy, noble boy, kind boy," she sang ,"you are in pain, yes? Pain for your love? For that sweet girl? Yes, yes, she is in trouble, yes? An old enemy haunts you through death, yes? Yes, yes."

The pain spread through his arm. Raoul sank to his knees, gasping.

"You wish to save your beloved, yes? You are rich. I know you will pay me handsomely."

He shouted at her to stop. She continued to sing, the voice in his ears, inside his body, everywhere. He was drowning in her horrid song!

"So I will help you. This spell, this spell is what you seek, yes? Yes, yes, yes..."

The voice distorted and changed, a parade of a devilish massacre of music. It beat at his ears, pressed him down. The strange, unintelligible language she used, it swallowed him up. He shut his eyes.

"-op-sss-su-siope-onnnnnn-opso-"

Odd syllables mixed and melded. The pain was everywhere.

The last thing he heard was the rustling of leaves. Then nothing at all.

"Monsieur!"

"You're so incompetent, Raoul," Phillipe chastised as he dusted the boy's trousers.

"I'm sorry."

"You could have been killed!"

"I- I'm sorry."

Phillipe relented, gaze softening. He sighed.

"It's not your fault," he replied, before adding, "I suppose."

"Horses don't like me."

"Everyone likes you, Raoul. Don't bother about animals."

Raoul held onto his brother's hand.

"Phillipe, my ankle."

Sighing, Phillipe picked up the younger De Chagny and placed him on the horse's saddle.

"Don't fall off this time."

"Monsieur!"

Raoul's lids fluttered open. Several shapes floated in front of him. His eyes struggled to make sense of it all. The blurry things came into focus. Trees surrounded him, dark and foreboding in the night.

Where was Phillipe? The horses?

His eyes widened. Phillipe was dead! He remembered the madwoman from the fair! Amazing Madame indeed! She ought to be arrested. A distinctly human shape was huddled in front of him.

"Monsieur, please- you can't be here!" it whispered.

The voice of a young boy. Raoul's vision adjusted more. Yes, they were in a forest. Had the fair left after he passed out?

"Monsieur, leave now!"

The child's face was surprisingly pale and the comte quickly realized why: it was not his face at all. It was a mask. Was this one of the children that had gotten lost at the fair? But there was something about the boy's eyes, something that troubled him.

"Where am I?" Raoul asked.

"A gypsy camp- now go!"

"What happened to the fair?"

"It's over. Go now, before my master comes back."

Golden eyes. Almost the same as...

"Where are your parents? Surely they would not leave you here alone."

The boy seemed to jolt from shock. Such a peculiar child.

"I- I thought you were at the fair, monsieur."

"I was."

"Then how can you not know me?"

A very peculiar child. Raoul furrowed his eyebrows. "How could I have known you?"

"I am the main attraction."

"I- I don't understand."

"I am the Living Corpse."

Dun dun dun! Again, I hope this entertained you, and feel free to review