A/N: Oh woe and misery upon me! The stupid electrical storm the other night fried my modem, and now I'm stuck with an old Macintosh computer from 5,000 years ago. The worst part is NO INTERNET! It's only AOL version 5.0! I curse the weather gods for destroying my life...Oh well. New modem in a week and a half. I hope I shall make it through. Anywhosits. NEXT chapter! Dun dun DA dun! This chapter is a little more...Eh...Depressing? Kinda...Sorta. Anyways. Quite emotional. And theres imagery. Blah blah. Have a nice time.

Elsa was lying beside him, her head resting on his chest, her brown curls splayed artfully around her face. She was sleeping, a smile dancing across her lips; her breathing coming in deep, even intervals. Erik gazed down at her, grinning and tracing the outline of those smiling lips. Everything was quiet and calm as they laid together in the darkness of his home. Completion filled him-his heart, his soul-as he wrapped his arms around her and held her closely pressed to his body. She gripped his collar, still asleep, and moaned softly into him as he embraced her.

Nothing is made to endure, whispered a voice in the back of Erik's head.

And suddenly, interrupting the peacefulness of the whole scene, an incandescent flash of light illuminated the entire lower half of the Opera Populaire. The surface of the lake appeared translucent and the reflection of the water was blinding, adding to the light already there. A deafening crack! resounded throughout the place and Erik bolted upright in bed, covering his aching ears. Elsa, meanwhile, frowned, only just emerging from her rest.

Awake now, she screamed out his name, but would not open her eyes, much to Erik's confusion. She threw out her arms, searching for him, pleading with him to hold her and make the nightmare end.

"Save me!" she shouted, but would not open her eyes. "Erik please! Don't leave me here!" she sobbed.

Confusion, horror, pain-All streaked across Erik's face as he attempted reaching out to her to hold her close to him once more, but now he was on the opposite side of the room, simply watching her cry out.

In another instant-a split second-Elsa was gone. She was gone from the bed, gone from his home. Gone from the Opera Populaire, gone from France. And gone from him.

He stared at the place she had been laying, his eyes transfixed there, his expression one of ultimate terror. His mouth hung open, his eyes brimmed with hot tears threatening to fall.

"No," he whispered, and tripped to the edge of the bed, where he ripped the sheets from it and threw the pillows away, searching for her.

"No!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the wall beside the headboard when he finally accepted she was gone. "No!" No, he would not accept it.

He went into a wild frenzy, knocking over anything in his path as he stormed from the room, making his way to the edge of the lake, where he dropped painfully to his knees.

"No!" he shouted again, his tears burning as they streamed down his cheeks. They mocked him, tormented him. How could he keep someone so wonderful for his own? He was a fool to think it would ever last. He didn't deserve her. He was a monster after all. Nothing but a monster.

He sobbed, holding his head in his hands, grieving freely, allowing the tears to torture him. His cries personified pain. Sounds of misery and anguish and heartbreak mingled together to create a lamentation that would make the devil shudder and quail.

He crawled to the lake's edge and plunged his hands into the frigid water. Her roared in pain as the water stung his flesh. His mouth set in a stern line of determination, he threw himself into the lake, pushing himself down, down to the deepest space in the expanse of water. Forcing his eyes open, he felt the haunting tears still flowing down his face, set on destroying him, even while fully submerged under the water! He thought nothing of anything except her, and whatever had taken her from him. He thrashed about in the cold, heart resolved on one thing.

His lungs and heart throbbed against the sides of his body, threatening to collapse. He didn't care. He wanted to die. He wanted to be rid of the world and the heartache it had forced upon him.

A few more long moments, and Erik's sight dimmed, the freezing water seeping into his eyes and nose and mouth; his world obscured and grew misty, hazy, dark. But his mind remained alert, urging him to push himself from the bottom of the lake, to save himself, to go on with his life.

But his heart told him to give up and die; perhaps he would see her in the next life. Never, he thought bitterly. She was a living angel, and he-a demon burning in hell, ever since the beginning of his wretched and condemned life, his first breath.

The last moment of his existence, one more gulp of cold lake water and-

Erik cried out and shot up in his bed. No, he was in her bed. His breathing erratic and heavy, stifled even, he leaned back against the headboard, dizzy and clutching at his heaving chest. He glanced around. No one was there. Everything was still and dark...

He stood unsteadily from the bed and stumbled to his piano, resting heavily upon its' side, and drew deep breaths of the crisp air of his underground home until respiration was restored back to its' somewhat normal state. He then bent his head and cried.

He cried, for he had both hope and despair.
It had been just a dream-A horrible nightmare, the most appalling image the Phantom had ever witnessed. It even surpassed his "marred" and "hideous" face. It had tried to push him to the edge, tried to convince him there was nothing else to live for because she had been taken away from him.

But she hadn't been taken away from him permanently, he thought, grim happiness tugging at the corners of his mouth. Celui agreed to bring her back, hadn't he?
Oh, but the papers...

He groaned. What was he do to about the Opera Populaire? His home? Could he give it up, even for her, who had such a hold on his heart, soul, and mind? He had constructed the opera house himself, pouring his every ounce of creativity into it. He couldn't simply give it up.

But...Elsa...?

He sighed. He must decide what to do-And soon. His next appointment withCelui was in a few hours. He cursed himself bitterly for waking up in the middle of the afternoon.

The grim happiness he had recently felt already long vanished, Erik splashed his face with cold lake water, careful not to give it any other unnecessary attention, and put his mind to work on what he must do before 9 o'clock.

All right so how was that! Not too bad, eh? I hope not. Review, review! And more suggestions. I love what y'all are givin' me. Next chapter: Back to Celui's flat. (Thanks, pinkyphantom!)

Many thanks and much appreciation,

O.G.

Also, I wanna give a shout out to Raoul, who agreed so willingly to update this for me, since Im screwed with no internet. HUGS TO YOU!