Sorry for hiding, all. Here's the next chappie--and please don't forget to review!

All of Me

Again--don't own anything...Not POTO or Evanescence, anyway...Started at 11:20 AM

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase


When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

Three months after the exchange between the Phantom of the Opera and the Persian, L'Epoque published this obituary...

Erik is dead.

Three simple words, but they caused Christine Daae nothing but pain. Raoul was out for the day, ice fishing with his new friends not too far from the Breton coast. She couldn't blame him for not being here when he was needed, but she was angry nonetheless.

In a childish fit of anger, frustration, and a heart-wrenching grief, Christine allowed the newspaper to fall to the floor, buried her face in her small hands, and wept until she could weep no longer and finally fell asleep.

You used to captivate me
By your resonating mind
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

I remember my time with Erik--my Angel of Music--as if it were yesterday. It's strange after only a scant few months they could still be so vivid.

I realize now that we have--had--what the people of Asia call an 'en,' a karmic bond that lasts forever. I heard it from one of Raoul's friends or somesuch source.

It wasn't his face that haunted and frightened me after my prying little fingers ripped away the mask--at least I don't think it was. I think, looking back on it, that my feelings might have been so intense I was actually frightened of them. And Erik's too, of course. He is--was--capable of feeling things much more deeply than anyone I have known.

And now he's dead. And I can't help but think that somehow, it was I that signed his death certificate when I left him in his underground home that night. But I made him a promise--and no matter what Raoul might say to me, I am going to return to Paris tomorrow and carry out my final duty to my teacher.

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

"Christine!" cried Meg Giry happily, reaching for her friend. Like old times, they embraced and began to chatter endlessly about everything and nothing.

"Christine...I know you didn't come back to Paris just to visit...so tell me why you're here," prodded the girl gently as they made their way down the Rue Scribe.

"I have...some unfinished business to attend to," half-lied Christine, looking too nervous for her friend's liking.

"With the Opera Ghost?"

Glaring at Meg, the future Comtesse de Changy nodded and opened the gate.

It was an easy journey down the lake, and by the weeping fountain where he had first taken her, Christine found a dark shaping, resting...

"Erik," she whispered. The acoustics of their location made it sound like a gentle breeze, but there was no reply.

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along...

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have

All of me...

Christine would not permit Meg to go any farther than the gate of the Rue Scribe, and performed the final duties to her Angel of Music. She laid him in the coffin, still masked, for she knew he would rather have it that way. She put the ring on his finger, and even kissed his forehead before the sobs tore from her throat, filling the small room Erik has desiginated as his tomb with grief.

A few hours later, Christine had totally unburdened her soul, and felt much better. She moved to the dusty ebony piano and ran a cloth over it. It gleamed with familiar hues and made the young woman smile just a little.

Dusting off the bench, she sat down and examined the piece of music lying on the nearby stand. With her nimble fingers, she began to play and sing.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have

All of me...

Okay--third installement done 11:37. Seventeen minutes. Wow. I guess it's 'cuse I already c/pd the lyrics and didn't need to like I did with Tourniquet. Please review.