Disclaimer: Don't own The Corrs. Don't own POTO.

Thank you for the reviews- they are very much appreciated, and I apologize for being a bit behind schedule. I hope this makes up for it. :)

cookies n' hugs

Lee

And Though The World May Change

Janet

She glanced through the photos she'd taken of the letters between the bitch and her fiance. She had never seen an engagement ring on her finger. In her mind, there were two possibilities. One, that they'd broken apart. Unlikely. Janet thought, with a bite of bitter envy that caught in her throat, looking over the photos of the bitch and her Raoul. Smiling at each other. Touching, embracing, cradling. Bile rose in her at the sunlit images, something raw and hating burning inside of her. A sickened hatred and jealousy that clawed its way up inside her. The tenderness between them made her heart pound loudly in her ears, a horrible hollowness grow in the middle of her chest.

The alternative, the other possibility, was more appealing. It brought a heady rush of satisfaction to her. A bite of bittersweet peace that drained away the acidic anger.

He was dead. He was dead and she had not had the courage to move on. She, weak creature that she was, had flown to another man, had never stood on her own. Had never known what it was to struggle alone. Not that sheltered, insipid creature who dared approach her Erik. It was almost incomprehensible that he should put up with her, that powerless, dependent, manipulating bitch.

Perhaps she was still not completely over his death. Janet shivered with the sudden rush of adrenaline that pulsed through her veins. The idea gave her something like a high, a euphoria that made her breath catch. Her eyes widened as a possibility struck her, she looked at the wide gray ones that met hers in the mirror.

Perhaps you miss him still, bitch? How sad. I think it's time you and he were together again.

Past time.

Christine

"Are you sure you want to do this, Christine?"

She glanced over at him. His eyes were intent on hers, vividly blue in the pale, grey-washed daylight. He took her hand as they coasted to a stop, caressed the palm. His eyes never left hers.

She smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm sure. It's... something I need to do." She ducked out of the car into the watery sunlight and gazed at the scene around her. A chill wind frosted her cheeks, tugging at her hair before dwindling to a memory. She shivered. After the heat of the car this coldness was numbing.

It was peaceful. Snow covered the quiet landscape, frosting sculptures and headstones. It was a restful place of gray and white and palest blue. Christine's fingers tightened on the daffodils she held, worrying the velvety petals. She glanced up to Erik, eyes voicing a plea. He mer her eyes and offered a reassuring smile.

He walked at her side, an arm around her shoulders holding her close. She leaned into him, grateful for the warmth and the comfort of it.

They paused and came to a halt in front of a headstone adorned with an angel in flight. Christine knelt beneath the deep blue shadows of the winter tree and placed the flowers in a cavity beside the grave. They made a bright splash of color against the paleness, a touch of spring on a winter's day.

Time had yet to blur the inscriptions.

Raoul DeChagany, Love and Beloved

Think of all the things we've shared and seen
Don't think about the way things might have been

She touched the cold stone gently. Behind her she sensed Erik, watching and waiting patiently, guarding. She closed her eyes and felt the snow-covered cemetery slip away. Until, in the silence, she could feel him.

She could feel him.

Raoul. How I've missed you. I wake sometimes and find that I've been dreaming of when we were children. The days where summer seemed as though it would never end, a continuous cycle of sunny days and nights filled with fireflies. I wake and I know I've been dreaming about simply lying on green hillsides with you and watching the world go by. I dream, and I'm standing with you on the shore again, under the sun with my feet sinking into the sand and the waves around my ankles.

You meant so much to me, Raoul. I don't think I ever told you how much. Did you ever know what it was to have you there beside me when I cried? When I fell and thought I would never have the will to get to my feet? Did you know what it was to me when you were there to offer me a hand- to help me up again?

I loved you, Raoul, I love you still. And I know you loved me. Perhaps more than I deserve. I know it with every glance you ever sent me, every touch and smile you ever gave me. Every whisper in the night and every kiss in the morning. With every countless time you shielded me from the world.

I don't have you there to shield me anymore, Raoul. You won't ever be there again to break my fall or offer me a shoulder to lean on. I can't ever go back to what we had between us.

I've learned to stand on my own. I've learned what it is to heal after your heart is dying. I've learned of things that strike the heart like lightening. I've heard things in the night that I never dreamed existed. I've felt them moving through me.

I've learned that I am still capable of love after all.

Would you be happy if I chose my love for him? If I decided that I didn't need to be lonely anymore? I think you would. He makes me so happy, Raoul. And I know that's all you ever wanted for me.

I think it's time, Raoul.

I think it's time for me to learn to live again.

Erik

What was she thinking of, with that mournful, tender smile on her lips? Her eyes were downcast, the dark lashes veiling the chestnut eyes. Snowflakes starred her hair, swirling around the two of them and leaving a cold kiss on their skin. She stroked the pale stone silently, head bowed. Around them the snow swirled in silence. He looked on as her lips moved faintly, mouthing words too soft for him to hear. She smiled briefly, caressed the cold stone.

Then she rose from the ground, brushing snow from her knees. She looked up and smiled at him, a smile of such heart-stopping sweetness that he felt the breath driven out of him.

He glanced at the daffodils, swaying rhythmically in the breeze. You two were fortunate. I only hope that if she chooses to stay, I can make her as happy as you did. I hope I can make her smile.

I always want to see her smiling.

Christine

Erik's eyes wandered to the smooth stone. She saw a kind of nostalgia on his face, an care for the boy he had never met, who had made her so happy.

You would like him, Raoul.

Her feet stirred through the snow until she reached him. Christine rested her head against his heart, arms tight around his waist. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat as the snow came softly down.

She felt his arms come around her, the sudden rush of warmth as he kissed her hair. His coat warmed underneath her skin, the sound of their breathing was the only sound on that quiet day.

They stood and watched the snow come softly down.

Erik

"Erik?" she asked. Her voice was a whisper. Her back pressed against him as his hands tightened on her waist.

"Hmm?"

"Did you grow up- I mean- is your mother... here?"

He looked out across the snow-field. "Yes."

"May we-?"

He recalled with painful clarity the last time he had visited her. Too long ago. Far too long, Mother. Days ago. He had meant to come and see her sooner. Had meant to come to her final resting place, where he could talk to her in complete silence. Where he could sing to her as he once did, only to her.

Erik's eyes wandered over the stones. What would you think of her, Mother?

Christine was looking up at him expectantly. "Of course." he answered quietly. "This way." He kept an arm around her waist as they made their way deeper into the realm of snow and silence.

Around them the world was white.

Christine

He was unusually silent, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. When she looked up at him, his eyes were not on this world. They were open to another world, frosted with memories. They had the sharp clarity of ice, and yet the same remoteness.

She could feel him reliving something, something that made him tense, tightened the sensuous mouth. She could feel it running through him, an electricity under his veins. The way his arm had tightened on her waist of its own accord.

Snow crunched under their feet as they made their way deeper into the silence. Even the wind had stilled. The air hung heavy, cold and still. Christine found it suddenly harder to breathe. Erik seemed to be walking through a dream now; she glanced up at him as they made their way through the cemetery. His breathing was tight.

He stopped. "Here." His voice was so quiet as to be lost among the stillness. He ran his hand along the curved lines, fingers lingering on the praying angel.

Christine lay a tentative hand on the cold stone. The inscription on the smooth marble was simple.

Antoinette Destler

An angel in the darkness

In the hollow by the grave, browned roses waved wearily, proudly. Erik brushed them gently with his fingertips. "I had her headstone replaced after I... after I was discovered by the Opera."

She touched his cheek gently. "I'm sure she'd love it."

His fingers caught and held hers, as though they would never let go.

Erik

How does one introduce someone to a ghost? Erik almost smiled at the whimsy of it.. He closed his eyes and let the scent of the roses wash over him. She had worn a perfume like it once, he remembered faintly the scent of roses and lilac from his childhood. The first breath of hope among the scent of decay in the streets. He breathed in deeply, released it. Took another. Mother... this is Christine Daae. My other angel. I... I love her. I've never been so content to be in another's presence.

She hears the music as you and I did.

She was with him now, he could sense her. She was with him in the silence, touching a gentle hand to his shoulder. He could feel her love, her pride, coursing through him. The same flow of emotion, the same tenderness she had shown him when she sat in his music lessons and listened, rapt and dreaming. The same tenderness with which she had kissed his forehead before he fell into dreams, shielded him from the bruises on her body.

He could see the shaking half-smile she would give him after his father had finished with her. It's all right, Erik. It's all right. Why don't you practice your music? Mother needs to lie down for a moment. Everything is all right. The tears he would sometimes catch, as they fell, glittering like rain, when she did not turn away quite fast enough. The tears he could feel falling on his hair as she held him and would not let him see her face.

Mother... I've lived so long without love. After your death... the foster homes. They could never hear it, Mother, the music in the night. I tried, oh God, I tried to make them hear it.

But they couldn't.

I'm grateful that you're safe now. That you can listen to Heaven's own choirs, as you always told me you would be able to. Although I wish you were here to share this with me. You would have loved her.

I've been alone ever since that night, Mother. I've wandered in winter for so many years. So many years.

I'm not alone anymore.

Erik felt her hand curl around his own; he glanced sidelong and Christine offered him a tentative smile. He felt the tension fall away, the gesture mirror on his own features. I'm not alone anymore.

It began to rain.

Reviews are very much appreciated if my readers would be so generous. :) Thank you.

cookies n' hugs

Lee