Disclaimer: Still don't own POTO or the characters. Or the song 'My, My, My' by Rob Thomas. I only own the storyline.

Thank you all for the fabulous reviews. You guys are fantastic- I couldn't ask for better readers.

Lee

Anodyne

Raoul

He flipped through the photo album absently. Faces flushed and eyes sparkling. Laughter looking out at him from every page.

Her eyes were dark, narrowed as the sun hit them. Her hair is flying in the wind, she leaned against him, lips stretched in a carefree smile. She has one arm around him, in the other she holds a well-loved snowboard. Behind them, the ski lift blazes brightly in the sunlight. Snow drifted across the photo in blurred white points of light.

He closed his eyes. Dawn.

He remembers the first time he ever saw her. She stood at the other end of the ski lodge. He saw her surrounded by a group of friends, eyes sparkling and laughter ringing freely. His friends have to repeat themselves to get his attention. Eventually they gave up, leaving him free to look at the vibrant brunette as she threw back her head and laughed as one of the surrounding girls acted out an anecdote from earlier that day.

She was like a star in orbit, with the planets revolving around her. Exuding a warmth that he wanted to bask in. He wanted to share that laughter with her. Was there something different in the way she held another's eyes? Or did he imagine the eyes that saw just a little bit deeper, the voice that held just a little more passion?

She shone.

Suddenly, she looked over and caught his eye. Her lips parted in surprise as she realized that they were staring at each other. But neither of them seemed able to look away.

She made the first move. Excusing herself, she moved away from the circle gathered around her, taking a seat by the fireplace. She looked over her shoulder at him as she goes. Her eyes seemed to hold sunlight in their dark depths. He go up, followed, irresistibly magnetized.

Raoul felt his stomach hollow at the memories. He could almost hear the whistle of wind in their ears as they sped downhill, the blasting of the radio in his car as they watched the snow fall all around them in a silent world of white. If he closed his eyes, the air took on the scent of hot chocolate and snow. Dawn... we were so good together. It was so good.

"The light from the window is fading
You turn on the night
The sound from the avenue's calling you
Open your eyes."

She was compassionate. She was vibrant. She was both the wisest and most naive girl he had ever met. Strangely weak and frighteningly strong. She was everything he had ever wanted or needed in another, and more. He remembered all of the times she had leaned on him, sparking a warmth in him, at being able to soothe her fears. At being able to hold her, and, with that simple action, save her from the heart that felt too fully. Being able to guard her from all the dark things of the world.

I loved you, Dawn.

She smiled at him as he sat down. The firelight threw odd shadows across her fine features. It gave her an almost feline quality, her eyes gleamed with welcome. "Dawn."

He smiles back. "Raoul."

And just like that, they began.

She was a lover. There was nothing she could not see beauty in, however deeply buried. She could never stand to see anyone hurt. She was empathetic. Strangers loved her and didn't know why.

It was because she had accepted them. They could tell her the intimate, shaming secrets that they couldn't tell anyone else, not even those that could claim to be closest to their heart. A complete stranger, she would listen. When she looked into their eyes, it was as though she had forgotten all else in the world. Raoul remembered the magic of her eyes. Of her words. She would listen, and understand better than they could themselves. And she would heal.

"And when you find
You're spending your time
Wanting for words
But never speak
You tell yourself
That the things you need come slow
But inside you just don't know."

He had loved her beyond all reason or reservation. The incredible, emotional innocent who wanted nothing more than to see a stranger smile. She gave them what they needed. She gave them a heart to cry out to, an ear to whisper into, a shoulder to cry on. She broke their silence, gave them hope again.

She had given the two of them such hope.

He leaned back into the seat, watching the snowflakes bloom, a swirling, lacy field of the tiniest flowers, on the windshield. Her head was warm on his shoulder, her hand entwined with his as they watched the world pass by. The air in the car was warm, like sunlight on the skin before it began to burn. She smelled faintly of coconut and hot chocolate.

"Raoul?"

He looked at her. "Hmm?"

She glanced up at him. She was so peaceful leaning against him. The heat from the vent ruffled her hair, he brushed it out of her eyes gently. She closed her eyes against the sensation, a little smile on her face. "If you could have one thing in the world, what would you want?"

He answered without thinking. "Happiness."

She gave him a thoughtful look, eyes pensive in a moon-pale face. Her hand caressed his absently. "What is happiness, really, Raoul?"

He ran his fingers over the album. Her smile radiated from every page; the two of them smiling with complete ignorance at the camera. Never knowing what lay beyond the present of that moment. Embracing with blithe confidence, assured that nothing could harm them.

It had been so hard to move on. So difficult to turn his face to the future when he kept glancing behind him to look once more at the past.

"My, my, my
Let your bright light shine
Let your words live on
Far beyond this life
Beyond this life."

"Dawn..." his voice echoed in the silent apartment. We had so much still to do. There was so much I still needed to say to her. How many times did I tell her I loved her? Was it enough?

Could it ever be enough?

He tightened the arm around her briefly, placing a gossamer kiss on her lips. "Happiness is... like being in love. Every moment is precious, life is never more beautiful. Happiness is having someone there beside you when you need them most. Happiness is being able to protect the people you care for."

Her eyes were serious on his. "Do I make you happy, Raoul?"

Did you make me happy, Dawn? He wanted to laugh, to cry at the absurdity of it. Did the sun rise in the east? Was the sky blue that day? Yes, she had made him happy. She had shown him a facet of life, a slant in the mirror of the world, that he had never seen.

She had left that sight with him.

Dawn... wherever you are... I know that you're still smiling.

Keep smiling, Dawn.

"Hold on to anything
Everything's over and done
Has the fear taken over you
Tell me
Is that what you want
To make up your life."

He remembered hearing the news, later. He did not remember the funeral. It was a whirl of black and tears and roses. Of faces and voices that he heard and saw as through distorted glass, stretched and muted.

He remembered seeing the odd angle of her head that the undertaker had not been quite able to set straight. How her already pale skin had whitened to the color snow. They had told him it was an accident, that her board caught. They told him that she had snapped her neck as she tumbled down the mountain. That they had found her spread-eagled at the bottom, lifeless hands outstretched, face blank with shock. They told him it had been quick.

They had not told him how painful it would be. In the months afterward, he moved automatically through life, hiding the grief. It worried his parents, when they came to see him and found him looking into nothingness. He had pulled himself together for their sakes. And for hers. He had an idea that she would have been less than happy with him if she knew what he had let happen to himself. That he had wallowed in self-pity, not noticing the toll his emotions were taking on others. He could imagine the gentle rebuke, the balming voice.

For her, he started to live, to breathe, to laugh again.

"Time after time
You're falling behind
Hold on to me
Never leave
Forever be what you mean to me right now."

It was still a shock to him, seeing his boss's goddaughter. For a moment, it had been as though he was looking at Dawn again. It was the same naiveté, the same air of understanding and welcome. The same light was in her eyes.

Christine.

And yet she had seemed so young, so innocent. Almost fragile. It drew him to her, that aura of both giving and need. It called to him, a need to shelter her, to know her. The girl with the wondering, wise eyes and winsome smile. Her unassuming manner, so like hers.

He hadn't felt this- genuine interest- in another girl since her. It had been so awkward- he had been almost afraid to frighten her off. Something in him had shrunk from the thought that she would decline and slip from him. Something told him that he couldn't let that happen, that she may need him as Dawn once did. He couldn't let her slip away.

She had seemed to forgive him for his trickery though, and he breathed a sigh of relief. In that night, he had felt something emergent, gathering its courage for the first breath of life. A seedling split and spreading cautious tendrils.

He glanced down at the album. I actually want to be with her, Dawn. I want to see her smile, hear her laugh. I want to hold her. I haven't felt this in years. Not since you.

Dawn... maybe it's time for me to let myself love again.

Nadir

"Hello, Christine."

"Uncle Nadir." her voice was tired. Unusually tired. He frowned, a dimness to faint to be thought in the back of his mind. "Have you any idea what time it is?" She sounded wearily amused.

Nadir looked down at his watch. And remembered just how many hours the time change was. Chagrined, he forced an embarrassed laugh. "I'm terribly sorry dear. I just wanted to check up on you. How are you doing?"

"As well as can be expected." Her answer was neither too hasty nor too hesitant. But there was something underlying her voice that causes his insides to curl uncomfortably.

"You're sure, Christine?" A nervous tension ran through his veins. He resisted the urge to call off the rest of his meetings and fly back to see her. Was this what parents dealt with all the time? He didn't envy them.

She laughed sleepily. It sounded genuine. "You worry about me too much."

"Of course I do. What kind of godfather would I be if I didn't?" He paused. "I think I'll be able to drop by in a week or so, Christine. How are you and Erik getting along?"

Her voice was distant, as though her mind wasn't entirely on the conversation. "Just fine. He's polite. His music is... beautiful, though. How did you happen to meet him? You never told me."

Nadir smiled wryly. "It's a funny little story. I'll tell it to you when I get back. Say hello to Erik for me in the meantime."

She yawned. "Uh-huh. 'Scuze me."

He chuckled. "I'll let you get back to sleep then, Christine."

"Bye, Uncle Nadir."

"Sleep well, Christine."

Christine

She replaced the phone in its cradle. Erik materialized in the doorway. "Who was that?" He was still wearing the mask, she noted. A robe wrapped around him, she wondered if the phone had woken him or if he had already been awake. Did he even take the mask off to sleep? Was he really that afraid or ashamed of what lay underneath?

And he didn't look tired at all. She felt unreasonably irritated by that little fact. "That was Nadir. He thinks he'll be able to come back in a week or so."

His eyes probed her closely. "Was there anything else?"

She shrugged. "He said hello." She yawned again, covering it with a hand that didn't feel quite connected with the rest of her. She blinked hazily, massaged her closed eyes. "Sorry. I'm not at my best at four in the morning."

The hint of a smile touched his face, his eyes warmed marginally. "Understandable."

She managed a smile as she brushed past him. She stumbled slightly, put a hand against the wall to steady herself.

A hand caught her arm. "I'm fine, really." she protested, looking up at the owner of the hand. "I'm just tired."

Erik closed his eyes as though praying for patience. And told her firmly, "I'd rather you didn't pass out on the floor, Christine. Come on."

She mumbled a halfhearted dissent, but allowed him to steer her in the direction of her room. He kept a careful distance between them, even as she swayed precariously.

Christine perceived vaguely that they had reached her room. She reached out for the handle, missed. He took her hand and placed it on the handle. She caught a glimpse of his face, almost amused. "Are you going to be able to make it?"

She gave him a sleepy glare. "Yes."

A corner of his mouth twitched, he stepped back. "I'll take your word for it. Sleep well, Christine."

"G'night." She turned to look at him, but he was gone. She shook her head, went into her room and collapsed on the bed.

A half-familiar voice entwined through her dreams.