Ah, forgive me, but I must reply to you all! You are so veddy veddy wonderful!

All Apologies: I updated almost as soon as possible... (shifts nervously) Is that okay?

S. A. Dickon: I like to make them argue. Its fun...

Atressa O'Riordan: thank you!

Baffled Seraph: Loyal reader! You read with other people! That's great, share the insanity, there's plenty to go around!

KatieScarlet: Thank you as well!

Maidenhair: I'm glad!

Rii: ALW did destroy "Don Juan Triumphant," I'm sure the real Erik would feel that way...

Willow Rose: Hey, do I get to be the second contestant on your Phantom phic? Hint hint... what do I have to do, bribe you?

Witchy-grrl: I agree, POTO in 15 Minutes is a classic... I'd love it if someone would call my stuff a classic... (puppy-dog eyes)

Musique et Amour: Thank you!

ElfLover: "bickering like little old ladies." LOL, hadn't thought of it like that... now, of course, I won't be able to not think about it like that... and thank you for quoting Weak Willed Christine, I love it when people do that!

EriksAngel1870: Thanks for a nice long review... I love long reviews...

Songwind: Another loyal reader! Crawford Phantom is pretty awesome... I love Michael Crawford...

YoukoElfMaiden: Thou must read Susan Kay's Phantom if at all possible... and it may not be, apparently its pretty expensive, being out of print and all. I borrowed my sister's copy and read it ina couple of hours (loooong car trip) and loved her version of Erik... so intelligent and witty... and, er, four-dimensional...

Dimac99: Apparently a lot of people read this stuff at work. (sigh) Have you no shame:)

Lamia: glad you liked it...

WritetotheDeath: Don't think I can manage Dario Argento's Phantom, not being acquainted with him at all. Take it for granted they tore him to pieces, if you like...

Solitaire-Me: Is it really? That's awesome!

SimplyElymas: Thanks for the review... gosh I love reviews...

Clever Lass: That line made me snicker when I wrote it... I am not particularly fond of Andrew Lloyd Webber, despite the combined force of Evita and Phantom... still cannot forgive him for Cats... and the forehead-bashing part was put in specially because of you...:)

longblacksatinlace: Gerry is a wimp. Ever see his interviews? In every one, he complains and complains about his makeup. So yeah, he's a wimp. But a cute wimp. And we love him. :)

LazyCat: The Phantom is funny, really! He's the only one in the whole bloody Opera House with a sense of humour! And about the eye-color, I've heard conflicting reports... they always look blue to me, but I'd love them to be green... green eyes are my favourite... mostly I just refer to them as blue because in most versions, the Phantom does have blue eyes... like Kay's book, etc.

Amaruk Wolfheart: Everyone seems to pity Gerry Phantom... I don't know why. he's the good-looking one.

phantomzgerl: I'm perfect? Didja hear that everyone, I'm PERFECT! Thank you, Phantomzgerl!

Diana: I'm doing my best, honestly I am. In the first chapter, the Lon Chaney one is there, making the moaning noises, and also the much-discussed Robert Englund is the one speaking in italics. Its hard to do those ones, and many others, because the only Phantoms I've really come into contact with are the original one, Crawford, Gerry, Kay's version, the one with Herbert Lom (gag me with a spoon) and whoever it was who played him in the version I saw when I was seven. But I really am trying to put all the diverse Phantoms in here... and Christines as well... and dang was this ever a long reply!

Butterflied777: There is more! DUN DUN DUN!

CelticHeart: Bra-whatever... snerk... I so look forward to the next chapter when I bring all the phangirls in... all you guys from PFN'll be there, trust me!

Mandy the O: I love you too! Please update more often! I posted this on PFN already but I like the line so I want to put it here... (ahem) "Ever since I started reading phan-fiction, the Phantom has been having it off pretty much constantly in my brain, without my permission. This is growing detrimental to my everyday life, as in the middle of conversations I tend to go all misty-eyed and say, "Hang on a minute, Erik and Genn are on the organ bench again..."

La Foamy: Everybody likes POTO in 15 minutes! Wish I were that famous...

VegaOfTheLyre: See above reply! Thanks for reviewing... :)

EmailyGirl: You must update as well... your story is getting very interesting...

Betty: Um, Bono? Gerry does not look like BONO! (goes slightly berserk) I forgive you. That was a very odd review, by the way... but okay.

sparklyscorpion: Ah, another long review... it so made my day...:) Crawford does the best MotN. I am a Music of the Night zombie, which means the default setting on my brain-music is (guess what) MotN, and often I wake up with it resounding around my head. And Gerry just didn't... quite... you know, the problem was that cringe-inducing high note. That was the problem. Sorry, Ger. And why didn't they let him do the evil laugh in the movie? I have to day I do drool over him, probably more than anyone else in the world... but he's still not my favourite Phantom... ooh look, I did another looong reply...

Mary Su: Thank you as well for the review!

A/N: In conclusion, you guys all rock havers. And if you don't recognize a certain WWC, you must read "True Saga" which you can find on my author's page. It is very important.

Chapter Two

Christines— Christines everywhere.

Most of them wore white dresses, symbolic of their pureness and virginity, for they had of course left Raoul on the eve of their wedding night, having realized that Erik was truly the only man for them— several wore black, for they had married Raoul, and then he had died after only six months or so, leaving them to come back to Erik as their heart truly desired— a few of them wore bright green and yellow, but this was more of a fashion statement than anything— and a few notable examples were stark naked, for reasons not adequately explored, which made most of the Eriks exceedingly nervous, and a few of them rather excited.

One of them danced past the four Eriks who stood just outside the door and shrieked at them, "Erik! Master of my madness! If you had not locked me in here I would have bound myself to you with chains!"

Leroux Erik perked up a little, until he found that, though this was his blonde-haired blue-eyed Christine, she'd been phictionalized and so wasn't the real thing after all.

A very young Christine came tripping up to them, her mouth agape, her eyes open, her chest heaving.

"Phantom!" she cried, flinging her arms wide. "I told you I'd come back when I was legal!"

It was obvious that she was referring to one of them, and Crawford Phantom, Kay Erik, and Leroux Erik all looked at Gerry Phantom, who was shifting uncomfortably.

They stared at him.

He grinned and blushed slightly.

"Phantom, say something!"

"Er— since when did you call me 'Phantom'? I thought you called me 'Angel.'"

"I did call you Angel— but you aren't an Angel— you're a Phantom."

"Actually, I'm an Erik," said Gerry Phantom self-importantly, causing Kay Erik to thump him on the head.

"Ye gods, man, things are bad enough without you trying to complicate them! Kindly keep your own name instead of attempting to usurp mine!"

"Mine!" howled Leroux Erik. "I am no singer! I am no phantom! I am no actor! I am Erik!"

Kay Erik waved a disinterested hand at him. "Yes, yes, we know."

Gerry Phantom's Christine, AKA Emmy Christine, continued to gaze with wide eyes at the four of them, not being able to think of anything to say. A few minutes of this and they were all exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Why does she stare so?" Crawford Phantom muttered.

Gerry Phantom sighed. "When God was handing out facial expressions, she got short-shifted, I'm afraid."

"But— which expression is this?"

"I don't know. I haven't been able to figure out what it means, yet. She looks like that when she likes me— she looks like that when she hates me— she looks like that when she wants me— and when she wants Raoul— and when she misses her daddy— and when she cries— and when she laughs—" Gerry Phantom heaved another sigh. "Honestly, she's only got the one look. Admittedly she's very good at it, but—"

"And you say you two are from the film version?"

"Yes, that's right, yes we are."

Kay Erik snorted suddenly. "Well, I don't think much of you, I must say, but at least you're better than this girl."

"I agree," concurred Crawford Phantom. "I've seen better actors in dog-food commercials."

"Phantom—?" panted Emmy Christine, for no apparent reason.

"Um, yeah, right here," sighed Gerry Phantom, waving at her.

It was at this moment that Brightman Christine decided to come over. Catching sight of Crawford Phantom, she reared back impressively and sang about six words, not one of which was understandable.

Crawford Phantom smiled and advanced on her, engulfing her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ah, my dear, how are you?"

Brightman Christine trilled something else, also unintelligible.

"Good, good."

"What did she just say?" inquired Kay Erik.

"I don't know," said Crawford Phantom, turning his vague smile on them. "Before I taught her she was the victim of some demoniacal music teacher who put far too much stress on vibrato. Poor thing hasn't been the same since."

"FaAaAaAaAaAaAtTeE lLlLlInKsSsSsS MmMmEeEe-EE-ee-EE-ee to thee-EE-ee-EE-ee-EE-ee—" trilled Brightman Christine. Crawford Phantom patted her on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes, my dear, we know."

Emmy Christine gradually turned her Look, whatever it was, onto Brightman Christine.

"You are not Christine," she said. "I am Christine. I take singing lessons from the Phantom. He is my Angel of Music. I fear I love him. We will be married in a tea-garden on Wednesday, but I must convince Pastor Sultenfuss to attend, and also Margaret Queen of Scotland."

The Eriks turned once again to look at Gerry Phantom, who shrugged.

"I wanted the girl. I was prepared to tell her anything."

This was greeted with soft murmurs of understanding from the others, for they knew the feeling well. The two Christines stared at each other for a moment.

"TtTtTelLlLlLlLlLl mMeE-ee-EE-ee-EE, Ddar-lLiIiIiIiInG, dDoes YyouRrRrR PhPhPhanToMmMmMmMm hHavE aAaAaA nNoOoOoOoOoOsSsEe?"

There was a very long pause.

Then Emmy Christine said, "What?"

Brightman Christine took a deep breath in order to reiterate, but Crawford Phantom stepped in before something disastrous happened. Brightman Christine was known to go overboard when she was forced to repeat things.

"Of course he has a nose, dear. Just as I do."

Brightman Christine clutched him to her and sang something very hard in his face. Crawford Phantom held on to his mask in order to keep it from blowing away.

"Yes, thank you, dear, you too."

"Is she always like this?" asked Kay Erik.

"Worse," said Crawford Phantom with a strained smile. "You should have seen us in 'Past the Point of No Return.' She completely drowned me out, no-one could hear me, its no wonder that the audience didn't realize I wasn't Piangi."

"One of these days I really must hear this story," murmured Kay Erik in tones of darkest dire.

"When I did 'Point of No Return,'" said Gerry Phantom, seeking to re-assert himself, "we did this wonderfully awesome grabbing thing— like this—" He advanced on Emmy Christine and grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. "Come on, Christine, play along—"

With a small squeal of excitement that managed somehow not to change her expression at all, Emmy Christine realized what he was doing and put her hands on his hips eagerly.

"So we grabbed each other— see? And we were singing together— come on, Christine, sing with me—"

Obediently Emmy Christine opened her mouth a bit wider and together they sang the last verse of "Point of No Return." When they were finished Gerry Phantom looked expectantly to his audience, waiting for them to applaud the sheer sensuality of the performance, but Crawford Phantom looked annoyed and Kay Erik looked bored.

Kay Erik clapped his hands slowly.

"Bravo, monsieur, you must tell that story again sometime," he said gravely.

Gerry Phantom flushed and let go of Emmy Christine. "Well, the movie-audience liked it," he said defensively. "I couldn't even count how many catcalls that got from the teenagers."

"Anywhere you go let me go tooooooo," said Emmy Christine, misty-eyed and with that same indefinable expression on her face. "Phantom, that's all I ask of—"

Brightman Christine uttered a shriek of rage.

"ThAaAaAt'sSsSs myY LlIiIiIiIiNne!"

In vain, Crawford Phantom tried to restrain her. "No, no, Christine, it belongs to others as well—"

He was unable to, however, as Brightman Christine fought free of his arms and raced to Emmy Christine.

"DdoOo yOu aApoOlOoGize?"

Emmy Christine said, blankly, "What?"

Brightman Christine shrieked again, and punched Emmy Christine in the nose.

The two of them went down to the ground, scratching and fighting, clawing and biting, high flying adored— sorry, random "Evita" moment— I'll start again.

The two of them went down to the ground, scratching, clawing, biting, pinching, and basically just beating the crap out of each other. Crawford Phantom tried to stop them, to pull them apart. The other three were content to watch the show with evident enjoyment.

The noise attracted the attention of the rest of the Christines as well.

"Hey!"

"There's a fight going on!"

"Its Christine!"

"And Christine!"

"It is Christine and Christine!"

"Wait— I'm Christine!"

"No you're not, I am!"

"You aren't!"

"I am!"

"I am Christine!"

Quickly this laughable situation descended into danger— most of the Christines were relatively unbalanced anyway by this point, and when one of them lost it and hit another, the whole crowd did the same. Five hundred Christines began attacking each other— five hundred Eriks stood and watched, unsure of what to do.

Kay Erik and Leroux Erik turned to Gerry Phantom, who was giggling diabolically to himself.

"What is your problem?" Kay Erik demanded.

Gerry Phantom chose to answer in song. "In all my fantasies— I always knew— that—"

Kay Erik heaved a disgusted sigh. "Honestly, man, call yourself a Phantom? Where do those casting directors get off, allowing someone barely out of puberty to don the mask?"

"But—" said Gerry Phantom, looking somewhat confused, "I thought that a perverse enjoyment of warped displays of physicality went along with the whole creepy-madman vibe that I'm supposed to be giving off."

"It doesn't mean you have to behave like a lunatic," Kay Erik snapped.

"Oh, doesn't it?"

"No!"

Gerry Phantom opened his mouth and kept it like that for a second, but, being unable to think of an adequate reply, he closed it again and folded his arms in a huff.

Crawford Phantom finally succeeded in detaching Brightman Christine from Emmy Christine— the younger one had been getting decidedly the worst of the deal, and was glad (it seemed, though it was hard to tell) to get off the ground and run to the comforting embrace of Gerry Phantom. He wrapped his arms around her and favoured her with a smile. Her response to this was so extreme that he eventually found it necessary to move several feet away from her, rubbing at his neck.

"Isn't there some sort of phan-phiction where Christine is a vampire—" he muttered to himself.

Kay Erik regarded him in distaste. "What is that on your neck?"

Gerry Phantom rubbed harder, pulling a small mirror from his cloak and examining the red mark left by Christine. "Holy crap!" he said.

Kay Erik resisted the urge to kick him.

"That is the biggest hickey I have ever seen!" Gerry Phantom looked in some admiration at Emmy Christine, who was smiling shyly. "Congratulations, babe— well done! That is amazing! I knew I should have invested in turtlenecks."

Emmy Christine shrugged slightly and shuffled her feet.

"You two are disgusting, you really are," observed Kay Erik. Gerry Phantom turned a Look on him.

"Listen, in case you haven't figured it out by now, the entire story is all about— love."

"Love?" repeated Kay Erik.

"Yes. Love. The Phantom wants to— love Christine. Christine wants to— love the Phantom. The fop wants to— Christine. Carlotta wants to love— everybody. It's the whole point of the story."

"Forgive me," said Kay Erik icily, "but I had a bit more plot than that in my background."

"Ah yes. Your story was mostly about killing, with a bit of— love in between deaths."

"I resent that!" snapped Kay Erik. "However, I see where you're coming from, and so you are forgiven."

Gerry Phantom sighed sharply. "There you go again, being all four-dimensional! I have asked you to stop that."

"It is beyond my power to remove part of my character!" said Kay Erik. Gerry Phantom made a "blah blah blah" gesture with his hands and rolled his eyes.

Leroux Erik, who had remained mostly silent throughout this whole thing, suddenly stood up straight and yelled, "Christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!"

From across the room there was an answering, "Eriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiik!" and then the Real Christine rushed into Leroux Erik's embrace. Her forehead was bloody.

"I've been trying to get to you for hours!" she exclaimed. "I attempted to bash the door in with my head, and then some kindly phan-phiction Christine thoughtfully showed me how to use the door-knob. I shall be forever grateful to her for allowing me to reach you— Erik— my Erik!"

All was peace and harmony between the two of them, except for the tears, and then Gerry Phantom stiffened and said, "Which phan-phiction Christine was this, then?"

Real Christine looked at him and said, "Why, I believe it was Weak Willed Christine, as a matter of fact."

About twenty Eriks were close enough to hear her words— at the sound of them they all groaned. Gradually the crowd stilled, and looking to the far side of the room, they beheld a small, dark-haired figure dressed in an extremely revealing costume, wearing raccoon-like eyemakeup, and a dazed expression, as though she too had been banging her head against a wall. She heralded the arrival of the phictionalized Christines, an event to dread for all Eriks—

Gazing wide-eyed at the masked men who stood in front of her, she gave a quiet shriek and said, "Heaven! At last, I have reached heaven! It is before me! All of you! Come to me! I have come back to you! At last! At last! At least— "

Moving towards them, arms open wide, she tripped over a stone and fell with a splash into the lake, where she continued to shout, causing bubbles to ripple the lake's surface. The Christines gradually stopped fighting— the Eriks gradually stopped watching— Weak Willed Christine gradually stopped floundering in the water—

And all eyes were on the horde Phictionalized Christines, who stood silent just inside the entrance of the lair. Even worse, they were accompanied by their respective Authoresses and Writers— the hardcore Phangirls.

The Real Eriks and Christines drew breath together.

Oh, horror!

Could nothing save them now?

A/N: Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-hic! (Gerry's hiccups are catching, apparently)