Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or any of the associated characters/music. Or The Corrs songs. I only borrow them for the purpose of entertaining.

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And Do You Love Her?

Janet

She ran a barren field, grass sweeping her knees. Her father called behind her, she glanced back over her shoulder to look at him.

He was skeletal, frail. She felt nothing but contempt. There was no light to his eyes, no energy to his movements. He was a shell, pale, sickly.

The grass dried, brittle against her legs. Beneath her bare feet, she felt ash. Smoke curled around her, filling her nose and her throat. It stung her eyes, clung to her skin. There was nothing, only the sound of her short breathing.

"Janie!" he called. His voice was high- fragile. It was a child's name. The name of a naive young girl. She hated it. She stared at him levelly and did nothing.

"Janie." he called again. His voice broke. He fell to his knees, coughing weakly. She saw blood spot his lips, a vivd cry against the greyness all around. She did not go to him.

"Janie- come here Janie- please-"

Her fingers trembled. "You're pathetic."

The scene melted. They were on the streets, he leaning against her mother. He was ghostly, the bones showing starkly. There were suitcases beside them, her mother was ranting, pleading with a broad, fleshy man. She stared at what had been her home, than at the man who she had called her father.

He was oblivious to the world, numb to the fact that he had lost them their homes. Janet felt a fierce anger burning in her chest, searing and constricting her lungs.

A funeral. A cheap wooden coffin, pine, unvarnished, taunted her. She watched as it was lowered into the earth, feeling nothing but a hot anger. An anger that warmed her against the cold as no thin jacket would.

She watched, stone-faced, as her mother sobbed over the box, kneeling over the hole in the earth. She wondered why she cried. It was they that had been hurt. It was he who had left them to fend for themselves- alone.

It darkened. She was sitting on the floor, closet walls pressing against her. The thin walls did nothing to block out the sounds. Her mother hid her in here when nightfall came and the men began to call.

Just because she couldn't see them didn't mean she couldn't hear them. Loud, sometimes drunk out of their minds. Or smell them- reeking of alcohol and worse things. Smelling of the debauchery of the streets.

And then she was fourteen, and the bills increased. She had to help her mother pay the rent. It made her nauseous, a burning hatred for her mother's customers grew in her. An anger at her father for dying and leaving them to this life. The same crap, day after day, a sick feeling, a drain on the body and soul. Night after night of drunken bruises and raucous laughter, strange and nameless faces. Nights of her mother's screams and whimpers.

She never screamed. She never cried out. It was a matter of pride. She would not show weakness.

She would never show weakness.

Janet woke with a start, looked around in surprise.

Than it all came flooding back. Erik, the bitch. Stealing her keys, breaking into her flat. She threw open the closet door, looked out of the window. And breathed a sigh of relief. The moon was high overhead.

Stupid, Janet. she told herself. What if you had been caught? She shook away the dreams. Memories were only memories. Those who dwelled in the past were fools. There was only the present and the future. Nothing else mattered.

Meg

She turned off the radio with a sigh. Commercials, commercials, commercials.

I wonder how Christine's holding up. She had looked relieved after lunch yesterday, Meg could only assumed she had talked with Erik.

She had also looked drained. Whatever they had talked about had taken a great deal out of her. Meg eyed her phone speculatively. Nothing like a morning pick-me-up to make her feel better.

She dialed the number and laid back against the chair.

She picked up after three rings. "Hello?" She sounded as though she had just woken up.

Meg smiled. "Morning, Christine."

"Is it?" Christine sounded vaguely surprised.

Meg smothered a laugh. "Was it one of those nights, Christine?" She brightened. "C'mon, have brunch with me. We can have a girl talk and you'll feel better in no time."

"You aren't going to take no for an answer are you?" Her voice was amused rather than irritated. "Of course not." Meg replied cheerfully. "So, I'll see you in twenty minutes? I still remember the way to your apartment."

"Actually, Meg..."

"What?" she asked.

"I'm at Erik's place."

Meg's mind went blank.

"I lost my keys and then- oh, it's a long story. But brunch sounds great." A pause. "Meg?" Christine sounded concerned. "Meg, are you there?"

Meg fought a hysterical bubble of laughter. "I'm still here. So, you're at Erik's. That's um... I'll see you in twenty."

"See you."

Meg closed the phone and let it fall, giving herself over to laughter.

Christine

Meg looked highly amused when Christine got into the car. "You look tired."

Christine flushed. "It wasn't like that."

Meg smiled wickedly at her. "Of course it wasn't. Is Erik tired too?" She laughed as Christine whacked her arm. Christine could feel her cheeks redden. "As it happens, we both fell asleep on the couch."

Meg sighed dramatically. "You disappoint me, Christine."

"Some of us actually sleep at night."

The dancer raised a blonde eyebrow at her. "How dull."

They made their way to the surprisingly empty cafe. Meg threw her an inquiring glance. "So what did happen?"

Christine gave her a mysterious smile. Meg shook her fork at her. "You are a cruel person, Christine Daae. Tell me what happened."

"I lost the key to my flat."

"And you called Erik."

Christine smiled at the mischief in Meg's eyes. "Who's telling this story?"

Meg grinned and waved her on. "Sorry."

"I called Erik. Joseph showed up before he got there."

Meg's eyebrows shot up. "Tell me he got the living daylights beaten out of him."

Christine smiled. "Not exactly. But I don't think he'll be feeling too chipper this morning."

Meg snorted. "I'm surprised Erik didn't maul him."

"Erik didn't touch him."

"You hit him?" A delighted smile spread across her face. "That's great!"

Christine laughed. "You are a wicked child. Yes. And then Erik and I drove back to his home. We talked about Raoul."

"And a wild night of passion ensued?"

Christine smiled at her hopeful expression. "No. No mind-blowing passion. I woke up some time in the night and heard him playing." She fell silent. It seemed too personal a thing to tell.

Meg didn't seem to mind. "I wish I knew for sure if he had a brother."

Christine kept a straight face. "I'll let you know if he does."

"I will be eternally grateful."

"Does that mean you'll stop stealing my strawberries?"

Nadir

He was sure something was wrong.

"Erik. You're... cheerful..."

The man raised an eyebrow at him, smiled. "Is there any particular reason I shouldn't be?"

"Erik," Nadir said slowly, "You are humming."

He looked startled, then amused. "Is it really that irritating, Nadir?"

Nadir's eyes fell upon a familiar bracelet.

"Christine was here, wasn't she?"

"Astute of you."

"Erik, you didn't-?" Nadir asked in exasperation.

"No, Nadir. Do calm down. Remember your blood pressure."

Nadir rubbed his temples. Oh, for a simple and uncomplicated life. "Fine. Fine. That's not what I came here to talk about."

"Which is?"

"We're having difficulties with the Christmas gala." Nadir winced. Difficulties was an understatement.

Nadir started as Erik half-smiled. "Of course. It wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't."

"Am I to believe, then, that you are not going to take off heads this time?" he asked cautiously.

Erik raised an eyebrow, smirked. "Why Nadir, whatever gave you that idea?"

Nadir sighed. "Just get in the car."

Ten minutes later they were cruising around looking for a parking space.

"I swear," Nadir said, annoyed. "Every loiterer in the city has decided to park their car in the Opera parking lot."

"Walking never hurt anyone, Nadir." Erik appeared amused at his discomfort.

"You know," Nadir sighed. "I think I preferred you grouchy. At least you would have agreed with me then."

It was a half-mile walk to the Opera House when they did find a parking space.

"Hey!" Nadir started as a broad, scruffy man marched purposefully toward them. Beside him, he felt the relaxation drain from Erik and a chill emanate from him.

"Joseph Buquet." Erik drawled, eyebrows raised sardonically. "This is a surprise." Nadir suppressed a shiver. Erik's eyes had gone an icy shade of blue.

"Where is Christine?" the man hissed. His hands were curled into fists, dark eyes smoldering.

"Christine is safe- and I intend to keep it that way. Don't you think you've hurt her enough?" His voice was perfectly level, arms crossed over his chest. Nadir felt a chill trace his spine.

The man's eyes snapped with fury. "If you hadn't interfered-"

"Oh, yes," Erik shot back acidly. "You would be hitting her still like the coward you are." His voice was meant to sting.

The man hissed and Erik slid to the side of the fist that was thrust at him. He caught it, bent back the wrist savagely, with complete calm. The man paled as Erik stared down at him from his greater height. "Do not think you can hit me as you hit her. She won't stand for it now and neither will I."

He paled further as Erik bent the wrist back yet further, and then released it.

"Should you attempt to hurt Christine again, I promise you'll have far more to worry about than a charge of domestic violence."

Erik stepped around him carelessly. Nadir caught a glimpse of his face and felt a coldness spread through his body. He stepped away from the man glaring after them in anger and fear and caught up to Erik.

"Was that who I think it was?"

"Christine's ex? Yes. I don't believe he'll be bothering her again anytime soon." Erik's voice was deceptively light. His hands trembled slightly, he shoved them in his pockets. "So, Nadir," Erik continued calmly, "what last-minute difficulties exactly is the gala presenting?"