Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.

A/N: Here's another chapter.

Chapter Fourteen

Gone

Vladen recovered from his mystery accident quite quickly. He never spoke of what happened to him. Sometimes in his sleep, though, he would call out, "When, Ami? When?" No one ever heard him though, for his roommates were always already fast asleep.

XXX

The streets were practically empty when Christine stepped out onto the cobblestone. Gusts of wind blew against her, ripping the navy scarf from her head. She turned around and chased after it down the street.

A voice cried from behind her, "Don't worry, madam, I will fetch your scarf." The man that the voice belonged to darted past her and was able to quickly catch it. He walked back to her and placed the scarf in Christine's hands.

"Thank you, Mon-" Christine cut off as she found herself gazing into Raoul's eyes.

"Christine!" Raoul cried, startled. There was an awkward silence.

Finally Christine spoke, "Well, I suppose you have a knack for catching runaway scarves." Raoul laughed.

"So, how have you been?" he asked.

"Fine. What brings you to Paris?" Raoul's face darkened.

"A woman divorced me," he said tartly. "In fact, I believe you know her."

"I'm sorry, Raoul, but…"

"But?"

"But what I feel for you is simply friendship. Nothing more." Christine wrapped the scarf back around her head. The air had suddenly gotten colder. Or was it just Raoul's cold aura? Christine turned away, "I have to go now." She started down the street.

"Christine!" Raoul called. "Don't go."

Without stopping, Christine rejoined, "I have to."

"What if I don't want you to go?" he asked pleadingly.

"I would go anyway." Christine hurried out of the streets, abandoning whatever task she had left the flat to perform anyway. She quickly sought her flat, where Raoul didn't know where to find her. It was odd. A few years ago, she had thought of Raoul as a sort of safe haven. Now, she fled from him. Raoul's pitiful tone haunted her mind. Christine knew that she had hurt him so direly, but she wondered how she could help it. Their love was no more than that that existed between best friends or siblings. She didn't know what she would do if she lost him- but she couldn't love him as deeply as he wished she would.

For a few moments, Christine just lay sprawled out on her bed. The normally lumpy mattress felt fluffy beneath her, and the blankets felt so warm. She deserved some rest. Christine yawned and closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

XXX

The cool sea breeze felt delightful against Christine's cheeks. She'd always enjoyed standing in the middle of a light gust of wind that would send her curls soaring behind her and rustle her dress.

A cheery voice called to her, "Christine!" She whipped around to see her father walking along the beach.

"Papa!" she cried, running into his open arms. He twirled her around a few times before setting her down on the soft sand.

"Will you tell me the story of Little Lotte, Papa?" Christine asked.

"Of course." He picked up his fiddle and played a piece to underscore the legend. Then he began, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing…" Suddenly, he abruptly stopped playing. He fell silent, stood, and walked away.

Christine ran after him. "Papa! Papa!" He did not turn around but continued moving away front his daughter indifferently. "Papa!" He disappeared into the mist that was swallowing the beach. "Come back…" Christine sunk down onto her knees.

Then came the sound of footsteps. Christine lifted her head to see someone coming through the mist. "Papa!" she called out, but her papa didn't emerge from the mist. Instead, in front of her, stood Erik. He held out a hand to her and crooned softly:

"Don't despair,
relax in my arms.

I want to comfort you.
Escape and you will be free
and all the fighting will be over.
I want to take you away from space and time
into a better reality."

Christine jumped to her feet just as Erik disappeared back into the mist. This time, she pursued him, but the mist was far too thick for her. Occasionally, she would hear a snippet of his song. Trying to keep calm, Christine stopped and called for Erik. He had told her once that whenever she called for him he would come. For what seemed like hours, though, she stood in the center of the mist, and he never came.

XXX

"Erik…" Christine's eyelids fluttered open, and she wiped away the salty trails that were on her cheek.

Someone rapped on the door. Quickly, Christine checked in the mirror to be sure that she looked decent, and she answered the door. She was met with a man that she did not recognize.

The man bowed slightly and said, "Ma'am, I am sent here to inform you that, by order of the Comte de Chagny, you are never to see his son again under penalty of law."

A/N: Please R&R!