A/N: Wow! Thanks for all the reviews guys! I'm glad to see so many familiar faces and some new ones too! Thanks to: Elisabetta, BelleDayNight, BlueBeauty, ChoChangLookAlike, erik's angel527, Menacer Phan, Dark Firebird, Ultimate Vader Fan, annecordelia & Mystery Guest for the reviews!

Now, to answer some of your questions: no you will not see too much of Stephan in this story. I have an idea in mind for his story that will come later. You will see some of him and this chapter will tell you a little more about his personality, including whether he is like his father or not. This story is mainly Beth's story and much of it will take place without her family. But I'm getting ahead of myself…..

To Ultimate-Vader-Fan, I would never diss your name since I am ALMOST as big of a Star Wars nut as I am PoTO. In fact my first fanfic was written when I was 19 and it was a Star Wars fic. Maybe someday I'll post it….

Now, onto the story…..

Disclaimer: I do not own PoTO or any of its characters. However, Beth & Stephan are all mine!

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Two years later

"Papa! Mama!"

Erik and I turned from where we sat in the music room to see our daughter, Beth, rushing into the room. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her long hair was in disarray, flying wildly about her face as she ran, most unladylike, into the room.

Erik smiled at her. Beth was his little princess and I never tired of seeing him smile whenever Beth was around. Ever since the night two years ago when Beth had been convinced that her father was ashamed of her and did not love her because he did not attend her recitals, all had been calm. Beth continued to perform, Erik still did not attend the performances, but they had, over the two years, grown close.

Beth was much like her father and both she and her singing had flourished under Erik's tutelage once the misunderstanding had been cleared up.

"What is it, Bethie," Erik asked as Beth stood before us, trembling in her excitement.

"A man from the Paris Opera House came to school today! Mademoiselle Frank arranged it! He came to hear me sing because Mlle Frank told him I was exceptional. Oh, Papa, he offered for me to be in the chorus once I am done with school!"

There was a silence as Beth's words sank in. I looked over at Erik, gauging his reaction. His face was expressionless, but I saw pride and another well-hidden emotion, fear or worry, I could not quite tell, deep in his eyes.

"Bethie, that is wonderful," Erik said immediately, covering whatever he was feeling with a tight smile as he pulled Beth to him in a hug.

"Monsieur D'Aubigne, he is the manager of the Opera House, he said he has never heard of a fifteen year-old who could sing as well as I. He said if he did not know better he would have thought I was much older. He wanted me to come now, but Mlle Frank told him I had to finish my studies first. Oh, Mama, can you believe it?"

I looked at my daughter, standing before me with her eyes shining with excitement. I was torn. Part of me was thrilled, of course, to think of my daughter singing on the same stage where I had once triumphed. Beth had an exceptional voice and would no doubt in time become the lead.

Yet at the same time I was apprehensive of the thought of her singing at the Paris Opera House. She was my and Erik's daughter. Erik was the Opera Ghost. What were the chances of her finding out?

I was certain that there was no one left at the Opera House from when I was there. Chances were the rumours of the Opera Ghost had died since Erik had left. I covered my unease with a smile as Beth was beginning to look anxious.

"That is wonderful, Beth," I said. "You have worked hard and you deserve it. Why do you not go out to the street to wait for Stephan and tell him? He should be arriving soon."

"Oh, yes, I will, Mama!" Beth said. She gave her father a quick kiss on his cheek before she hurried back out the door to wait for Stephan.

I turned to Erik. He was staring into space, a far-away look in his eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Erik?"

He turned to me and I saw an old, familiar haunted look in his eyes. It was the look that he always wore when he was remembering the past.

"Oh, Erik, what are we going to do?" I asked. "We cannot let her go there."

He looked at me, surprised. "Of course she will go."

"But Erik…"

Erik sighed heavily and stood. He walked to the organ and sat down. He began to play, escaping into his music as he always did when he was upset.

I stood beside him at the organ. He looked up at me and I saw the pain in his blue eyes. "I cannot deny my daughter the chance to sing, Christine. I cannot deny her what she has worked for her entire life."

"There are other Opera Houses, Erik. Ones that are free of our past…It does not have to be the Paris," I said softly.

"The Paris has always been the most prestigious."

"Yes, but…"

Erik shook his head, cutting me off. "No, Christine. I will not tell her no. It is not fair."

"But what if she finds out, Erik?"

He lowered his gaze back to the ivory keys. "She will not. There is new management. It has been eighteen years, Christine. I am certain that there is no one there that even remembers the Opera Ghost," he said stubbornly.

I sighed. "Perhaps," I said. Then after a pause I said, hesitantly, "Perhaps we should talk to her…"

Erik whirled around and stood angrily before me. "No," he snarled, his eyes flashing with anger that I had not seen in him for years. "We are not going to tell her anything. She will never know of my past, of our past. Do you understand?"

I fought back tears. No matter how far Erik had come, the past would always be there to cause him pain, I thought. "I understand," I said, my voice trembling. "We will not tell her anything."

Erik stared down at me and suddenly the anger in his eyes died. He turned and began to walk away.

"Erik!" I said.

He turned. "I am sorry, Christine. I need to be alone." He stalked from the room and a moment later I heard the door slam.

I sank back down on the couch. I stared at the doorway Erik had just disappeared through and tried to ignore my growing sense of unease.

xxx

Hours later I stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Erik had still not returned from wherever he had escaped to. Beth and Stephan had come in minutes after Erik left, both of them giddy with excitement.

They were both helping with dinner and Beth was still chattering about the Opera House, reciting the many facts that she had discovered in a book about the building.

Stephan listened quietly as he set the table. I looked over at my son and saw a deeply thoughtful look on his face.

Stephan was a puzzle. In so many ways he was just like his father. He was extremely musical. He could play any instrument given to him. He had mastered the violin in a matter of days and played beautifully. He had perfect pitch and at eight years old had written his first musical score. But he was shy, painfully so, and refused to play for anyone other than his family. He had a beautiful voice, though not nearly as good as his sisters', but he refused to sing, refused to take lessons. His music was private. He spent most of his time drawing up elaborate blueprints. Erik had told me once that he had done the same thing when he was a child. The child was brilliant, but he was so shy that he refused to show off his talents.

But as much like his father as he was, Stephan was also quite different. Unlike both his father and older sister Stephan did not have a temper or the mood swings that were common to both Erik and Elizabeth. He was sweet and gentle, usually quite happy. He had never had a tantrum as most toddlers did, and as an infant he had slept through the night by the time he was a week old. But as quiet as he could be, he was also unerringly optimistic. He was cheerful and had a cutting wit.

It sometimes seemed funny to me how both of our children had traits from both of us. Where Beth had a beautiful voice, better even than mine, she, like me, could not play any instruments. Though father had tried to teach me to play the violin, I had never been able to produce more than a rusty squawk from the instrument.

I sighed heavily, wondering where Erik had gone. A few moments later the front door opened and Erik walked into the kitchen not long after. I could tell he was still angry and upset, but he hid it well as he smiled gently at the children, a wistful look in his eyes. The years had certainly helped him to learn to control his temper, I thought.

We ate a quiet dinner, the silence broken only by Beth's happy chattering as she asked me about the Opera House. It was a year until she would turn sixteen and be finished with school. A year until she would leave us to go to live in Paris. It was a year, but suddenly it seemed a very short amount of time, indeed. Our daughter was quickly becoming a young woman, leaving her childhood behind and I was struck with a sudden pang of sadness.

I knew all too well the difficulties of losing your innocent childhood and joining the harshness of reality. And as much as I wished to protect my daughter I knew that I could only protect her for so long.

((well, what did you think? Please review and let me know!!))

A/N: See, I told you you'd find more out about Stephan. What did you think? I wanted Beth to be more like her father and Stephan more like Christine, yet both of them quite different from their parents. I think the normal way to go is to have Erik's son be just like him, which is why I decided to do it a little different!