Le Phantome c'est moi: Grazie/Merci! ^_^

StrawberryStoleYourCookie: The high pitched phangirl laugh? I do that all the time. I think my parents suspect that I'm inhaling helium or something from the amount of squealing that comes from my room while reading Erik phanfics =P

I agree, but I can't offend my readers now can I? =P

That's very true, the only thing to wish for is that you'll find your Erik. I'm secretly hoping that I'll meet Erik whenever I go to a theatre to see a play. Or maybe I'd find him at a show of Phantom of the Opera? (secret desire of mine, to meet Erik at a theatre playing POTO ^_^')

I never really saw why so many people did them until I tried it. I hate reading them, love writing them!

Thanks! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

PhantomWaffles: That's one of the main reasons I wanted to write this, for Erik's reaction to modern day music! Especially rap music! (Though when I say rap 'music' I mean music in the most non-musical sense of the word. No offence to anyone, I just don't like rap) Well the name was a stroke of genius if you ask me! And I love Requiem Mask! "Holy flying sheep in a shipwreck!" =P

382jollytumgirl: Dreams can be cruel though. I had a dream the other night that I was the Phantom's assistant sort of but he liked this other girl and then by the end of the dream he got eaten by sharks…it was weird, and I got all depressed for the rest of the day.

LadyCavalier: Thanks! ^_^ Hehe you'll have to read the chapter to find out! I was sort of using the mask from Requiem Mask, the white one. Or I guess the official logo looks the same too. Except I pictured it black on my Erik, though looking back I didn't mention it's colour…And I'm in 10th grad

Axelion the Vampire Phantom: Silly Kristina! She'll figure it out eventually. I just hope she figures it out before Erik Punjabs her =P

Erik: Well I can't very well do that without my Punjab now can I? *glares at Axelion*

Me: Well then maybe Kristina will stay alive long enough for the story to get somewhere!

Erik: Maybe, but still…GIVE ME BACK MY PUNJAB! *chases Axelion*

Me: *sigh* Oh well. On with the story.

Chapter 3

"And as for you…" The "Phantom" said, turning to Kristina. The young girl gulped as she waited for the crazy stranger to threaten or attack her.

"Where am I?" he asked, in a fairly polite tone for someone who had just strangled a kid and threatened to kill him.

"How can you ask me such a mundane question after that display back there?" I should call the police. This is way out of my league… She realised, quickly slipping her cell phone out of her pocket.

"What is that?" She saw the man's eyes darken. "It looks like a phone. Surely after that 'display' as you called it you aren't planning on calling the police?" he asked, a threat hidden under his words. Kristina ignored him and dialled faster. She saw the man dash towards her and acted almost instinctively as he jumped at her with his Punjab. He went to strangle her, but, keeping the words of Mme Giry in her mind, she had quickly brought her hand up to the level of her eyes. The stranger stepped back with a glare once he saw his attack had been blocked.

"How did you know to do that? Who told you the secret of the Phantom's lasso?" He asked in a dangerous tone.

"I know the Phantom of the Opera," she explained, still a little shaken. The man hissed.

"You do not know me!" he objected loudly.

"Not you! The story. Duh," she added under her breath.

"Story?" The man looked confused. "The story of the Phantom couldn't have travelled as far as America…" he said to himself.

"Canada." Kristina corrected. "This is Canada." This guy really had some serious problems.

"Oh. My apologies, I assumed from the language and the accent…Wait…Canada?" he exclaimed, looking around. "I've never been to Canada. One of the few places Erik's never seen…"

"You still insist that you're Erik?" she asked, rolling her eyes. This guy needed therapy. She looked down to her phone to dial 9-1-1 but she realised it wasn't there. "Where's my-" The man cut her off by dangling her phone in front of her face. "Wait, when did you-"

"When I was trying to strangle you," he explained indifferently. "What is this thing anyways? It's like a phone, but it isn't connected to anything. Must be a Canadian invention," he mused, fiddling with Kristina's phone. "Canada! How did I get to Canada? That door…what was it? And how did it-WHAT?" His voice was so full of fury that Kristina jumped and gave a small shriek. The man was glaring at the cell phone in disbelief. "Girl, this device is broken. Up here where it says 'date' it says May 9, 2011. It's off by over a century!"

"Um…it is 2011." What is going on? "Listen, are you from a mental institution or something? Do you need help finding the hospital?"

"It is most certainly not 2011! It's the nineteenth century," he insisted adamantly.

"If it is, then that cell phone in your hand doesn't exist," she pointed out. "They weren't invented until…uh…recently.""Cell phone? What's that?" The man asked, tilting his head curiously. Kristina felt a smile spread across her face in spite of the fact that she'd seen this man try to kill another boy and herself in the past ten minutes. He was just so adorably Erik-like! "Stop grinning and answer!" he growled, snapping Kristina out of her phangirlish thoughts.

"Cell phone, it's short for cellular phone. It runs off satellite signals or something," she explained quickly, blushing with embarrassment. Snap out of it! He's not Erik! The man was still looking at the cell phone thoughtfully.

"I get it. It's a joke. Someone's trying to fool Erik." His expression grew frighteningly cold. "They will pay for messing with the Phantom of the Opera. Erik will-"

"Look, do you want me to prove it's not the eighteen hundreds?" She interrupted, deciding to play along with his game. The man nodded. His expression matched hers, a person playing along with the game of someone clearly not in their right mind. She frowned and turned around, indicating for him to follow.

They hadn't gone far before Kristina stopped. "Here. This is a road. Just wait for a car to come by and then I dare you to try and tell me we're still in the 1800s." she challenged.

The man smirked, as if he was planning on doing exactly that, but when said car drove passed he freaked out. He jumped back with a scream of surprise and horror.

"What was that?" he asked Kristina, who was still shocked from his unexpected outburst. Surely this was taking the act too far…

"I told you, a car," she explained. "A 2011 car." The man nodded slowly, astonished.

"She may be right…Erik knows cars don't look like that. And that door is definitely not normal, it brought Erik to Canada. Maybe…could it have brought Erik through time?" he shook his head. "No! It isn't possible. Erik must be dreaming. I'm dreaming…" he decided. He turned to Kristina. "You're a dream!" He told her. She shook her head.

"Nope, I'm real! See?" She added, grabbing his hand. "You can feel me touch you so you can't be dream-" she stopped when she saw the look in the man's eyes. Shock, confusion, and…contentment? She blushed withdrawing her hand. He. Is. Not. Erik! she scolded herself. Pull yourself together! "Problem?" she asked.

"No one touches Erik…" he said softly, a mixture of sadness and amazement. "And your hand is so warm…" He looked down as if to hide a blush of his own. Kristina's face reddened to match.

"Look, you're not Erik! Please stop acting like that, you have no idea how much that effects me to hear someone talk like him." she explained.

"I am Erik. The Phantom of the Opera. I shall prove it to you." He frowned thoughtfully. "Somehow… How much do you know about the Phantom of the 'Palais Garnier', the Paris Opera House?" he asked her. He didn't wait for her to answer. "Do you know that I can appear in multiple places at once? That my voice is the most evidence anyone has of me? If I tell you how I am a ghost, will you believe me?"

"I know how obviously, it's in the story. You use trap doors and secret passageways around the theatre, and you can do ventriloquism," she explained. The man looked shocked.

"If Erik didn't owe you Erik would likely kill you for all you know…" she heard him mumble under his breath. "How about things about Erik's past? Perhaps Erik's mother's name?" he offered uncertainly.

"Madeline?" she guessed. Susan Kay was the only one who had given Erik's mother a name. Erik nodded slowly.

"She knows. She knows everything. How do you know, strange girl?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm not answering anything from you until I've seen your proof that you're the Phantom." she said determined. Who are you kidding, he's obviously not! the voice of logic in her head argued. But maybe…just maybe…a more hopeful one added. Besides, it should be fun to see what he- she was cut off by another shout of surprise from the strange man as another car came speeding by.

"For Mozart's sake can we please move somewhere where these god awful machines of speed don't interrupt us with their wretched noise every other sentence?" he shouted, glaring after the car.

"Not until I see your proof!"

"Watch what you are messing with child, the consequences could be far greater than you know and you could end up being dragged down to hell with me, the devil himself," a deep voice below her warned. She jumped and looked at Erik accusingly.

"Ventriloquism?" she asked. He grinned smugly. "That's not proof, lots of people can do that." His grin faded.

"Well then Erik will think of something that pleases you, Princesse du monde," he taunted with an eye roll.

Kristina blushed and watched his visible features settle into a look of concentration. He was rather handsome looking, though she couldn't tell much with that mask on. She found herself wondering what he would look like without the mask on. The features she could see at least, were alluring. His skin was pale, perhaps even to the point of ill looking, but she had always liked pale skin. It looked like ivory. His was more of an off white than white, but it was unique nonetheless. And it brought out his eyes…those glowing yellow eyes, so hypnotising, so enthralling…before she knew what she was doing she was standing close in front of him, and his eyes were frozen on her. .

"What are you doing?" he wondered, partly apprehensive but partly just curious. She herself didn't know what she was doing until she felt her hand touch on his cold black mask. "What…wait, don't touch that!" he scolded, jerking back from her. The mask got caught on the young girl's hand, and came off from the force of his retreat.

He immediately brought up his hands to cover his face but not before Kristina saw it. Not to mention she had felt his skin graze her hand as he'd pulled away. He looked like Gaston Leroux described…like death. His face almost like a skull, darkened hollow circles around his eyes, no nose…but there wasn't as much horror as she had felt when the book described him.

"Is this proof enough for you? Je t'emmerde! Tu es TROP exasperant! Je te deteste, fille stupide de l'avenir!" He cursed, slipping into French. (AN: May not be correct…But it should say "**** you! You are TOO exasperating! I hate you stupid girl of the future!")

"Je suis tres desole monsieur! J'ai ne savais pas que tu...j'ai pensé que ton masque est pour décoration!" she apologised once again to the masked stranger. "Desole, desole!" ("I'm very sorry sir, I didn't know that you…I thought your mask was just for decoration!" "Sorry, sorry!")

He didn't turn, but he stopped shouting. "Tu parle francais?" he asked.

"Non. Un petit bout, mais non," she answered. (No. A little bit, but no.) He nodded slowly, taking in her words and thinking, still with his back turned to her and his face covered.

"Give me my mask. Then I will decide what to do with you." The words were a low threatening growl. Kristina just nodded and held out the mask silently. He snatched it from her and placed it securely over his disfigured face.

"So…you…you are Erik?" she asked timidly.

"You felt Erik's face, did it feel like another mask, or stage make-up to you?" he asked coldly. She shook her head. "You know Erik's biggest secret…the secret of his hideous face…on top of that, you know all Erik's other secrets…how?"

"Well," she started, but stopped. He was Erik. She was talking to Erik. The real Erik! The only thing dampening her joy was the look of anger and hurt in his eyes. She knew she owed him an explanation, but how would he handle knowing every secret of his life was published in books, multiple movie adaptations, and the longest running play on Broadway? "Your story is famous. The infamous Phantom of the Opera. You're a legend to the people now, as I'm sure you were in your time."

"Erik is used to fame. But how do you know Erik's name? So few have been told…" Kristina heard the unspoken part of that sentence. Which one of these few will be punished for sharing his secrets?

"I don't know," she lied. "It's one of those stories that just kept getting passed on. Perhaps a descendant of Christine?" she suggested.

"Christine?" Erik repeated in confusion. "Erik doesn't know a Christine," he said.

Kristina's heart nearly stopped. He didn't know Christine? So he must be from before Leroux's novel started... That means I have a chance! she realised, but she quickly silenced the thought with a new question, her face burning:

"How old are you?"

"21."

He's only five years older than me! Again she fought to silence her inner thoughts of phangirlish delight.

"It is Erik's turn to ask questions. What should Erik do to you, nosy girl, as punishment for daring to defy his one deepest secret?" he asked silkily. Eying her thoughtfully. She saw his hands twitch towards where she knew he had hidden his Punjab. She gulped at the thought of being left here to die and quickly came up with an offer.

"I have an idea, you need a place to stay, right?" she explained. "Since you're in an unknown country two hundred years after your time, you'll need somewhere to live and perhaps a guide?"

"Erik doesn't need help from-" she cut him off.

"What's a television?" she asked. Her question was met with confusion. "What's a radio? Who's Harry Potter? What kind of clothing is it normal to wear in the twenty first century?" The man sighed.

"Fine, I see your point. I suppose until Erik can figure out exactly what happened and how to get back to his theatre where he belongs he can stay with you. I only hope the foolish managers don't destroy my opera house in my absence." He looked up at Kristina. "La Palais Garnier, it does still exist in your time, correct?"

"Yes," she replied. "But I don't remember if it's still open. We can Google it when we get to my house."

"Google?" He asked, with his adorable head tilt. She allowed her inner phangirl to giggle childishly at the cuteness.

"Oh, Erik, you have so much to learn," she smiled up at him.

"Yes, let's start with your name. As you already know my name, a formal introduction may seem pointless, however I still feel it's polite. I am Erik, pleasure to make your acquaintance," he introduced himself, sweeping into a bow.

"My name is Kristina, and the pleasure is all mine!" She smiled and gave a small curtsy. "Wonderfully polite introduction. But your first lesson is, nowadays people don't curtsy or bow. Ever. Shaking hands is the normal introductory gesture," she explained, holding out her hand.

He looked at it cautiously for a few moments, but finally seemed to decide this was not a trap of any sort and grasped her hand in his.

Leroux had described his hands as cold and dead, but she found his hand pleasantly warm. Perhaps he had only been cold from living underground for so long, and being in the sunlight even for this short time had given them a chance to warm up. He released her hand with a small, almost shy, smile. She returned a huge bright smile of her own.

"Come on, we have to get back to my house before my parents get home!" she warned, looking at her watch in a panic. She ran off, waving at Erik to follow her.

"Wait, parents?" Erik followed, wondering exactly what he was getting himself into.

What indeed Erik? How will Erik handle being in such a strange new world? And how will Kristina smuggle the young man into her house and keep him there without her family finding out? You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out, so stay tuned readers!

Authoress Note: I'm Canadian, so I've been learning French pretty much since kindergarten. However, I haven't been learning much of it. Just the basics. The line about "stupid girl of the future" doesn't seem right to me…(if any French speaking readers would like to correct me that would be wonderful!) But I figured my translations would be just as accurate as an online translator, since we both know the bare minimum about French.

Also, remember how I said the other day that it might be a while before I updated? Obviously that period of absence never happened did it. See what happens when you guys review? You motivate me to write more! Because "Phangirl or Lover" is more important than my schoolwork. Schoolwork makes no one happy. Phanphics make reviewers happy! So review, and continue to motivate me!