A/N: I got reviews and followers! I'm so, so happy. I literally smiled at my computer screen for ages after that! Thank you so, so much, my new readers and followers: Guestie, Masked Man 2, icanhearthedrums, tarheelborn & Guest (Spirit of the Opera). I'm really glad that you enjoyed the story, and I hope I can continue to keep it up to your expectations!

Now because some of the reviewers asked, I thought I would clarify this.

My story is a mosaic of all the different Phantom of the Operas, be it ALW's musical, Kay's Phantom, or the original Leroux. I didn't stick to any particular version. Also, I rather disliked the idea of a 50-ish year old Erik being together with a barely 18 Christine, and therefore I tweaked many parts of the story to suit my own liking. Basically, Erik is approximately 10 years older than Amélie, and Christine only comes into the story slightly later, but she's a few years younger than Amélie.

Guestie: To be honest, I read the original novel ages ago, and I couldn't remember exactly which year it was set in, only that it was the 19th century, so I just picked a random year that I liked, hehe. Erik will be much younger in this story! (:

Masked Man 2: I think Amélie's really cute too! Haha! And yup, Antoinette Bellamy is Madame Giry, but at this point she isn't married yet.

Icanhearthedrums: Yes, Meg will definitely make an appearance, and so will Persia! Can't be missing our favourite blonde ballerina, can we? You'll see her soon, in a couple of chapters (:

Guest (Spirit of the Opera): I'm glad you liked it! I will continue, to the best of my abilities! Haha.

Well on with the story! I hope that new readers and old readers will review and let me know what they think about the story! I know chapters 1-2 were a little choppy and boring, but hopefully it will get better from here on (:

Last chapter was fluffy, and this chapter is (hopefully) rather sad.

Chapter 4: Departure

Paris, 1880

Antoinette did not know it, but that day's events had burned a memory into Erik's mind, never to be forgotten. It was tucked safely into his store of precious memories, to be remembered and commemorated. It had been the day when a little girl, almost ten years younger than him, had accepted him wholeheartedly, even for that short time span of two hours. It was a memory that Erik would never forget in his lifetime.

It became somewhat of a habit for Amélie to sit, staring at the cracks in that particular wall while Antoinette practiced, waiting for Erik to arrive from the passageway in the wall. Sometimes he came, and sometimes he did not, but the times when he came were the happiest times for Amélie. Each time she travelled through the secret corridors, her hand held firmly in the boy's hand, she felt a thrill of excitement, as though she was embarking on an adventure. It did not matter that she had no idea who he was, or even what his name was. Amélie decided that she rather liked this boy and his stories. And every single time, Erik had a new story for her when they arrived at the storeroom. It was a time when the two of them could escape into their own little world of mystery and fantasy, free from the cruelties of the world that threatened to break Erik.

Despite Amélie's company, Erik longed to travel the world. He called it his wanderlust. He had read all the books available to read in the Palais Garnier, borrowed from the manager's office, or discovered in old dusty trunks in the numerous unused storerooms. Antoinette had sometimes spent a little of her small pay to purchase him some second hand books for him to peruse. He devoured them all greedily, and read about tales of the distant and unknown Persia, or the elegant and enigmatic China, exotic Russia, and many other countries. He wanted to visit them all. He was not sure as of how he was to get to all of them, but he knew he wanted to. He estimated himself to be around fourteen, grown up enough now to be travelling by himself. Erik had amassed himself a sizable amount, by picking up loose francs that members of the opera house had dropped every day, and, to Antoinette's extreme displeasure, by taking the francs that the manager sometimes absent mindedly left on his desk.

La Célestin was to leave after her next performance, and it had been declared that Antoinette was to take over her place. Antoinette would debut as prima ballerina in a week's time. Most of the ballet de corps were happy about the news, though there would always be the few jealous ones making snide remarks in the corner. Antoinette had secretly been exhilarated, but kept her joy under wraps for fear of seeming to be arrogant, and had merely smiled and thanked the members of the opera house who had stopped by to congratulate her. When La Célestin hugged Antoinette and promised to be back to watch her first performance, Antoinette accepted the hug gratefully. She would miss the former prima ballerina, and hoped only that she would be able to live up to La Célestin's high standards.

She was in one of the practice rooms one day when Erik entered silently, almost shocking her to death.

"Erik! Must you always creep about silently? Make some noise, for heaven's sake." She chided, but really, she was too happy to stay angry at him.

"There would be no more fun in that, Antoinette. Congratulations. I told you, you would get the role." He said smugly.

"And how would you have known that? Do you know something about ballet now, monsieur?" She teased.

"I know enough to know that you deserve that role." He said seriously. She bestowed him with one of her rare, wide smiles, turning back to the mirror to continue pushing pins into her unruly mane of blonde hair, which had been tamed into a bun.

"So, what's this about, Erik? A courtesy visit?"

"I've decided to leave, Antoinette."

She was so shocked that she dropped the pins in her hand. When she picked them up from the floor, her fingers were trembling slightly, and she dropped them again. Erik swooped in to pick them up for her, grasping them easily with his long bony fingers. He handed them to her silently.

"What have you decided to do now, Erik?" She prayed that she had heard him wrongly, but she knew that she was only lying to herself. "I thought I heard you say that you were leaving!"

"I am, Antoinette. I'm leaving."

She closed her eyes, willing this to be a dream. But when she opened them, she was still there in that practice room, and Erik still stood next to her. Deep in her heart, Antoinette had known that this day would come. Ever since that day two years ago when Erik had brought up his idea of leaving the opera house, Antoinette had noticed him becoming more and more restless as the days passed by. There was an innate need in Erik to travel around the world, and he would not drop the subject until that desire had been sated. She looked at the boy before her sadly. In the two years, Erik had shot up in height, and he now stood taller than her, slightly hunched. He was still just as thin, but the days of hauling himself up the ropes to walk along the catwalks, and lifting heavy weights like old boxes of props in the cellars he called home in an attempt to make the place more livable had created ropes of sinewy muscle beneath his skin.

"When will you be leaving?" She asked, the beginnings of tears prickling at her eyes.

He paused, before answering. "I thought I would leave tomorrow, Antoinette."

His tone was gentle, but Antoinette found it difficult to let the boy she had saved and been a companion to for four years leave. He caught her sniffling, a lone tear at the corner of her eyes, and he looked surprise.

"Do not cry, Antoinette. A prima ballerina cannot just cry like that." He chided. "I am hardly worth your tears."

"You'll not be here to watch my first performance as prima ballerina, then, Erik." She said dully. Erik stared at her, not knowing what to say. He could deal with angry Antoinette, but not a sad Antoinette. He had never known her to show much sadness in the four years since she had saved him. Antoinette had always been a symbol of grim determination, working hard to get to where she was in the ballet, never faltering and never showing fear to anybody.

"I will stay until your performance, Antoinette." He offered. "I'll leave only after your performance."

She looked down, obviously still displeased, but she knew that there was nothing she could do about it anyway. She nodded her head slowly, then left the room silently, leaving Erik alone.

XXXXX

A week passed, too quickly for Antoinette's liking. For Amélie, the week had been perfectly amazing because her masked friend visited her almost every day, and each day she sat with him in the store room for hours on end, listening to his melodious voice as he wove story after story for her.

The night of La Célestin's last performance arrived, and La Célestin retired after a wildly successful career and a final, brilliant performance on the stage, amidst roars of applause and cheers. She emerged on stage for the last curtain call, her arms full of roses, beaming from ear to ear, her pretty face radiant with happiness. The next night, Antoinette was to take her place.

Antoinette spent the night in a rather fitful sleep, even though she silently scolded herself, knowing that if she did not sleep well, her performance would suffer for it the next day. The first performance as the new prima ballerina was of the utmost importance, for critics were often nasty and biting toward new stars who took the stage. If anything, she would do it for Erik. She would bring the house down, so that he could see her first successful performance before he left. With that thought in mind, she finally drifted off into blessed sleep.

When the morning sunlight at last streamed through the curtains in the room, Antoinette woke, a little uneasy. There were butterflies in her stomach, and she felt her hands curl into tight little wrists in anticipation of the night's performance. The room was already abuzz with the murmurings of the other ballet rats who had already risen, and Antoinette sighed, getting out of bed to ready herself for the final practices before everybody had to prepare for the night show. Antoinette wondered where Erik was, wondered if he had kept his promise to stay until after he had watched her performance. She had not seen him much over the week, perhaps a brief glimpse of him lurking around in darkened corridors, but Amélie's happy chattering each day was evidence that Erik was still around.

Minutes turned into hours, and soon enough, Antoinette was sitting in her new dressing room, lacing up her ballet slippers and checking on her costume, making sure that there were no large or visible rips. She wiped her suddenly clammy palms on the skirt, wishing that the butterflies would stop fluttering about in her stomach. Closing her eyes, Antoinette breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

"Five more minutes, mademoiselle." The stagehand outside her door called, and Antoinette gave a little jump of fright, before calling out to acknowledge she had heard. The footsteps of the stagehand echoed away and Antoinette seated herself again on the chair before the dressing room table, breathing hard.

When the door creaked open again, Antoinette looked up in surprise, a little frantic. Has five minutes already passed? It seems a little too short. I'm not ready!

"You needn't worry so much, Antoinette. Really, you've been ready for this performance since ages ago." Erik stepped into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. Antoinette breathed a huge sigh of relief at his presence. His voice filled her with a certain soothing calm, and it made her feel a little more brave about stepping onto the stage for her first solo performance.

"Erik! You stayed." She tried not to sound too pleased, but the smile on her face betrayed her emotions. He smiled briefly, but said nothing. In the spur of the moment, Antoinette stepped up to him, giving him a quick hug around the waist, her eyes growing wet again. He stiffened, but he did not pull away, though he made no attempt to hug her back either. Antoinette only held the hug for as long as she thought she could, because of Erik's reluctance to be touched by anybody. When she stepped back, she carefully wiped at the corners of her eyes, trying not to mess up her makeup.

"Do not cry, Antoinette. You'll mess up your face." He said stoically, quietly. She gave him a watery smile, and turned to the mirror to make sure that she had not smudged anything on her face.

A knock on the door sounded, and the stagehand's voice came again, reminding her that there was only one minute left. Erik nodded toward the door.

"You'll do fine, Antoinette. I know you will."

She smiled again, another of those wide smiles that rarely made it to her face these days, before mouthing "thank you", and disappearing out the door, shutting it quickly behind her. Erik stared at the closed door for a few moments.

I will never forget you, Antoinette. Thank you for caring for a monster who does not even have the courage to say goodbye properly.

Antoinette's performance ended with a deafening chorus of cheers and applause. Sweating slightly under the strong stage lights, it was all she could do not to faint of sheer relief that it was over. She looked out at the crowd, wondering if Erik had watched the performance, and what he had thought of it. As a ballet rat stepped forward to hand her a large bouquet of roses on stage, she accepted it gracefully, bowing to the loud audience. There was not a single person in the audience who would go home that night thinking poorly of the Palais Garnier's new prima ballerina.

Once the curtain finally fell, Antoinette rushed through the corridors, clutching the roses in her arms, ignoring the congratulatory shouts coming from all directions from admiring ballet rats, desperate to get to her dressing room and hoping that Erik would be there to say goodbye before he left. When she turned the doorknob though, she knew in her heart that Erik had most likely already left.

The room was empty as she had suspected. The only remnants of Erik's presence were a folded sheet of parchment on her dressing table, and next to it, a wooden music box with a tin princess in a red dress. A closer look revealed that the princess had russet hair made of thread, and bright blue eyes, painted on cleverly by nimble hands, and she was swathed in rich red fabric. Antoinette picked up the parchment with shaky hands. It was covered in Erik's thin, spidery script.

Antoinette,

I have left. Do not worry for me, for I will be fine. Do not cry for me, either, for I am not worth your tears. I will never forget you. Please relay the gift to Amélie.

You danced perfectly tonight. I kept my promise and watched.

Farewell,

Erik

Despite Erik's instructions, Antoinette sat down heavily on her chair, and cried. She wept for the boy she had come to view as a brother, not caring if she ruined her makeup, or that there would be questions asked later on.

Erik was gone.

XXXXX

Amélie did not understand where her masked friend had gone to. She had sat by the wall every day for a week, waiting for him to appear, but strangely, he had not. He had always appeared once every few days, never leaving her alone for more than a week. Confused, she leaned back against the wall and stared at the cracks.

Antoinette found her there an hour later, asleep. Her heart went out to the little girl, and she knew that she had to tell her of Erik's departure. She gently shook her awake.

"Come on, Amélie. Let's get you back to bed. It's time to sleep."

"But I want to wait for my friend!" Amélie protested, yawning sleepily. Antoinette swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Eri—your friend has left, Amélie. He has gone somewhere far, far away."

Amélie stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes. "Far, far away? He has left?"

Antoinette nodded grimly, picking Amélie up in her arms and carrying her back to the dormitory room. Amélie put up a struggle at first, not wanting to leave the wall, but fatigue overcame her and she rested her cheek against Antoinette's shoulder.

When they reached the room, Antoinette set her down gently onto the bed. "Amélie, your friend has gone, but he left you a present to remember him by. Do you want it?"

Amélie nodded silently, nibbling on her thumbnail contemplatively. Antoinette cautiously brought out the little music box Erik had left with the note, placing it onto the bed next to Amélie. Amélie took one look at the little tin princess, clad in the bright red dress, before promptly bursting into tears.

For the next week, Amélie was completely inconsolable. Every day, she would go to the wall where she had once waited for Erik, and sit there for hours, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. The other ballet rats were puzzled. They could not fathom what had caused their little sunshine to cry all day long. Antoinette tried to brush off their worries by mentioning that Amélie was just having a case of the blues, but she knew that it had to stop soon. At the end of the week, she brought Amélie aside and firmly told her that she was not to go back to that wall.

"Your friend would have wanted you to enjoy his present and move on with your life, Amélie. Do you understand?"

She doubted that Amélie understood, but the little girl nodded her head anyway.

From then on, Amélie never returned to wait by the wall. She cherished her music box, winding it up only on special occasions to listen to the tinkling tune, before tucking it carefully back into one of the drawers in the chest next to her bed. Sometimes, Antoinette would catch the girl staring intently at the princess on the music box, a stray tear finding its way from her eye, before the little girl would swipe the tear away quickly in case somebody saw. But time would heal all wounds, and the girl would forget about Erik soon enough.

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think! Any thoughts at all are very welcome. ~ xx Hazel