The Swap

Act I

Chapter 1: In which I keep my hand at the level of my eyes

As a matter of fact, I didn't even know anything about the lonely soul of the Phantom of the Opera until yesterday, when Caitlin made me watch that film, saying it was the best thing since chocolate. And chocolate is sacred to us, as it is to most people.

I had never heard of the Phantom's story. The reason fort hat being that I had the tendency to be quite oblivious. I didn't know much about subjects that didn't matter to me.

Subjects that did matter to me being philosophy, religion and music. Not all music, though. My friends even called me Patrick , as a reference to the adorably stupid starfish. I didn't mind it much. Because they were right. And I really liked Patrick. His vision on life was quite interesting.

My introduction to the opera ghost was that 2004 film. Which, according to Cate, was the best. That was the way she had literally told me over the phone.

"Why we have never talked about this before is beyond me. " I said, surprised. Apparently, The Phantom meant a great deal to her.

"I have, you just forgot about it. In your usual Patrick way."

"Sorry," I said, cursing my way of spacing out. I knew Cate didn't mind it much, but I could have just listened a bit more to my friend, right?

"It's okay, as long as you finally go and watch it! Gerard Butler is so dreamy." She let out a sigh before hanging up. I shook my head.

Boy crazy Cate.

I made sure my annoying older brother Simon was upstairs gaming. He liked to startle me. When I was certain he would leave me alone, I grabbed some snacks and started watching.

By the time the opera house was restored into its old glory I was intrigued. When the masked figure started singing about the music of the night I was entranced. At the moment Christine showed the world the Phantom's disfigurement I wanted to slap her. And when the rose was seen on miss Daaé's grave a dark heavy feeling came over me. I let out a deep sigh.

It had all been so dark. It had all been so cruel.

I really understood why Caitlin loved this story so much that she had watched all versions and read all the books about it that existed.

I skipped back to one particular scene I had liked. The Phantom's voice filled the candlelit room, entrancing Christine. And me. It was hard not to become entranced by it, really. I watched it again, again and again, until the Opera Ghost's voice became my lullaby.

I was roughly shaken back into consciousness. My first guess was that Simon wanted me to get off the laptop so he could use it.

"Fuck off, you stupid idiot." I groaned, still half asleep. It only resulted into me getting shaken even harder. I found it strange my brother hadn't scolded me yet, like he normally would.

"For God's sake, Simon. Go sleep or something. Just leave me alone." I tried to find his hands to break free. They were awfully forceful for Simon's. Just what was his deal today? I opened my eyes, annoyed to be woken up from my sleep.

"Didn't I tell you so many times to not disturb my slumber." I said.

I was in a …. cave? No, not a cave, but pretty close. There were a lot of candles and mirrors. An organ was placed on the left side of the… well, I wouldn't call it a room either. A… lair, perhaps? Papers were spread everywhere. On the floor, the organ and cupboards. It reminded me of the messiness of my room, only with a lot more charm. And less dangerous piles of books.

Two gloved hands were just letting go off my shoulders. I was struck by two fierce eyes glaring daggers at me, one of them hiding behind a half mask. The gloved hands and the angry eyes belonged to a man. This man was also wearing a cloak. He looked like he was going to scream at me. However, before he said anything, I, with my still sleepy head, made the most intelligent remark.

"You are not Gerard Butler." The second those words left my lips I wanted to bite my tongue off.

"I am not Simon either. " The man shouted, no spat, at me. This conversation was bizarre. Scratch that, this whole situation was bizarre.

Caitlin, this is the last time I watch any of your recommended films.

"Sir, I'm so sorry. This must have been a terrible mistake." I got up out of- wait, was this the swan bed? Just how had this happened? No, now was not the time for these questions.

"Yes, I think so too." The Phantom did not at all look amused. And he was getting closer by the second. I took a few steps back.

Keep your hand at the level of your eyes.

"I don't actually know how I got here." I rambled on, remembering the line from the film, and following its advice. I hoped the crazy dude in the cloak would actually listen to a word I said.

"That's not what matters to me. What did you do to Christine?" He looked really concerned now. And even angrier. I continued backing away and using the candelabras as some sort of shield. Like Christine had done.

Christine was the reason the Phantom was angry in the first place. Now that I mention it, Christine was always the reason why the opera ghost was angry. If you didn't count the traumatic past. I got so absorbed in the conversation I lowered my hand.

"I really don't know where she is. I wish I did, because in that case you wouldn't be here scaring the hell out of me." I said in another attempt to reason with him. It failed.

"Mademoiselle, you expect me to believe this with her gone and you being the only lead I have to her. " He looked ready to strangle me with his infamous Punjab lasso. That was proven by the fact he was standing next to me in one swift movement. He grabbed my arm and got very close to me.

"Christine seems not an unknown person to you. So, tell me, what did you do to her?" I let out a small whimper when he squeezed my arm painfully hard, knowing he would be ready to do a lot more than that. Especially when it came to Christine. One of the Phantom's hands was reaching for something inside of his cloak.

"I know who Christine Daaé is, but doesn't everyone since Hannibal? I know little else about her, I swear. She-." I had his full attention now. At least he was not reaching for the magical lasso anymore. He eagerly gestured for me to continue.

"She told me to come here. Not Chirstine, but the servant girl of the Vicomte. Really, he told me to take a look inside the lair. He sent me, you see, because he was too afraid to go himself, and because I know a way to open doors. I use my fingers. And when I got here, it was dark and you were entranced by your organ. By the time you noticed something was wrong, Christie had already gone off." The Phantom snorted. I knew my tale didn't make sense at all and that the phantom was way too smart to believe it.

"And why would I believe you?" I tried my most innocent face.

"I am here right now and miss Daaé is not." He glared at me.

"No she isn't. Which I why you shall be my hostage until she returns and does exactly as she is told. Surely, the guilt will make her come back."

"If she had felt that guilty about it she wouldn't have left me here in the first place." I was surprised by how sour my voice sounded. Especially when it was all one big lie. The real Christine would've probably started crying, making the phantom aware of my presence here, before I could have even convinced her to run away.

"Why did she leave you here?" His tone was a commanding one, not an inquiring one. He was towering above me, but he had given me some personal space again. Which I appreciated. He had also refrained from taking out his good ol' Punjab lasso.

"To distract you, to give her a bit of extra time. You know my hair does seem brown in this light." What the hell, how could I even begin talking about my appearance in this situation.

"You must not be of a very high importance to the Changy family if they would leave you like this. But for Christine you would be enough." I could see it in his eyes that he was picturing her face and I knew instantly that the image in his head was as sharp any picture my brother's camera could make.

"I am but a servant girl." And a soon to be famous philosopher, mind you. If I would ever get out of here, that was.

"But you will serve the Changy family no longer. Until Christine pleads for your life, you will serve no one but me." I sighed. I could see it already, in that crazy expression which was partially hidden by a mask. I would become the marionette of the Phantom of the Opera. A man of whose existence I hadn't even been aware until yesterday.

This was going to be just wonderful.

Author's Note:

Hello there!

This is a try-out for a PhantomxOC phanfic. Recently I have been obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera. I have only seen the 2004 and 1990 movies. I have bought the original novel, but I haven't read it yet. Basically, this phic will follow - or rather, mess up- the 2004 plot. There might also be hints of the 1990 one.

I am curious for you thoughts on this chapter,for it is my first phanfic. I don't know if this will continue or not, for I am a very inconsistent author. Partially because of a busy life, partially because of laziness. Please leave a review!

~Fee-tan