I know it took me longer than usual to update, but I was a bit... busy, shall we say? As usual...
Scarlett Red Rose: Are you the one who wrote that one-shot on the Phantom forgetting his instructions? HA! That was great! I'd had the idea before, so it wasn't actually stealing yours... just so you know... but I think I reviewed yours when I read it, cuz it was awesome... and of course you may be in the phic anyway. (adds you to the long list)
darksidetwin2: Nope, not the end! You can't get rid of me that easy—
A-Lonely-Dreamer-56: Glad you're happy with your insertion—
Librarian of the Deep: I take it your sister doesn't laugh much?
Ludivine: Thank you.
EriksAngel1870: Hmm... what's another word for thesaurus?
Ophicial-Phan: Reviewing is good. I love reviews. I will put you in if you promise on Erik's Ring to review every chapter... ah, I'll put you in anyway. :)
ButterflyOfLothlorien: I was looking back through old reviews and I thought I saw that you had asked to be in, but I'd forgotten... so I put you in...
gavvie: Too bad about Phantom selling out. I was going to go see it... till my trip to NY was canceled... (grumbles)
pOtOgurl417: Someday I'm going to check out everyone's profile and see if I actually AM in any of them.
DarkPriestessofAssimbya: That means you can join the Left-Handers Club! Not a lot of us in there, but you and other lefties are welcome— it doesn't actually mean anything other than an excuse to shut out the rest of the population. :) Kay and Leroux Erik are in there, I'm in there—
lazy.kender: Fish ARE vegetables. Whatever made you think they weren't?
Willow Rose: Just wait till the outtakes. Remember how most of your reviews involved the sharpening of knives and the contemplation of fop killing? (wink)
Songwind: Like the hat? Hats are good. I just bought two hats last Friday. Terms of Endearment is currently on hiatus, following a deep depression that came on after I my computer ate the next two chapters. Hopefully I'll manage to pull out of it soon.
anche: You want to be killed off too? What is it with people? I'll see what I can do.
letthedreamdescend: (adds you to the list)
The Singing Fox Demon: I'm on PFN as... DUN DUN DUNNN! Random Battlecry. Usually hang around the Phic Squeeing Thread on Phantom Art with the stalker and various other phictional characters. That... was an odd sentence.
SimplyElymas: Thank you!
RoseWithABlackRibbon: Thank you as well. Laugh at grenades. People may look at you funny but at least you're amusing yourself.
THELadyRedDeath: Chaos is fun too. Lost of things are fun.
Mandy the O: (faints after reading the last chapter of AEoT) Way to keep the pulse racing— I'm going to go take some organ lessons now.
Dimac99: It was too a snot bubble! It was! It was! I know snot when I see it!
Phantom'sFallen Angel: See author's note. :)
LuvinLivnReadn: The snot bubble is actually from the movie— right after the sickening All I Ask Of You part, when Gerry is kneeling on the roof holding the rose up to his face, when he looks like he's about to eat it? Snot bubble in his left nostril. You can see the light shining off of it.
sparklyscorpion: Long reviews. YAY LONG REVIEWS! See, this is why I hook you up with your CSL. ("Creepy Slasher Love") And yes, Stalker Erik is afraid of you. Because you hit him repeatedly.
Foreveriseternallymine: When I cry, runny nose, yes. Snot bubble, no. At least not in public. But then I try to avoid crying in public anyway. I'm tougher than I look. (puts up fists)
Mademoiselle Phantom: (holds out her firstborn for all to see) She gave the child to me! It is mine now! Mwa-ha-ha-ha! (the kid throws up over her shoulder) Here, have it back. No spanking— I don't think. No I mean, spanking of the Eriks. Spank the child all you want. But when CPS comes for you, run.
longblacksatinlace: Thanks for reviewing!
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: And thank you...
ElfLover: Not over. A few more chapters, that's all. (maniacal laughter)
EmailGirl: Yay, everybody liked the ending line... that's great. I kind of liked it myself. I wish I actually knew some older men that weren't all— grotty.
bundles 'o joy: (sticks your "moment" with Gerry Phantom in the outtakes)
Musique et Amour: Your reviews are getting shorter... and shorter... and shorter... are you sitting on them as you write:) Anyway, your first request as you know is fulfilled. The second one is kind of attended to, but you get more of it in the outtakes.
CelticHeart: I do the torture. Stalker Erik kills them. It works. :)
The Maiden Amorisa: Okay... lots of love... good... I guess...
Killthefop: (cuddles the plushie again) Thank you.
A/N: I feel it is only right to warn you that I finished writing this thing, and the phic proper comes to 14 chapters in total. (watches people blink and not care very much) However, I've also written a bunch of outtakes and unused ideas, most of which were suggested by you guys, so that should make you happy. (watches "cuddle time with Gerry" mouthed by about ten different people) Right, whatever. There are also interviews with the REAL people in the phic, and an alternate ending, and credits, and a "Where Are They Now" section, and an After Party. And now—
CHAPTER TWELVE Singing Lessons
They began to take stock of the damage that had been done. The lair was in a shambles, pockmarked with holes where the grenades had gone off. There were only a few Christines left— Brightman Christine had been lost in the carnage and Crawford Phantom entered into mourning for her; Real Christine had been saved, however, as she was still passed out when the fops attacked, and Emmy Christine had found the largest muffin she could and hid behind it. Not very well, as muffins are not known for their protecting capabilities, at least where larger firepower is concerned, but she had managed to escape virtually unharmed. A handful of the Writers who had gotten shut out of the room had passed on, as well, but we didn't know them by name, so it doesn't matter.
None of the Eriks, it turned out, had died. This was in itself a cause of great rejoicing, and for a while all were content to be still and enjoy the silence.
Except for Kay Erik, who looked happier than he ever had before.
He moved with a bounce in his step, and hummed occasionally under his breath, as he knelt in the shallows of the lake and washed himself. Gradually the humming became louder, and the Writers began to pay attention. They leant forward in their deck chairs and strained to hear.
The humming grew louder still—
They leaned forward farther.
Louder—
A few of them fell out of their chairs.
And suddenly Kay Erik burst into song.
There was some immediate swooning among the Writers, and a series of dazed expressions, and some weeping at the immaculate beauty of Kay Erik's voice; and all those who hadn't loved him previously, seriously wanted to do him now, right there on the bank, because it was that kind of voice, simultaneously sultry and clear, a starlit sonata and smoky as an opium den.
It took someone as cynical as another Phantom to realize what he was singing.
"I say," said Gerry Phantom, frowning slightly, "isn't that—"
"Shh," cautioned Crawford Phantom, gesturing towards the Writers. "They're enjoying it so much— don't interfere with their pleasure."
"But isn't he singing—"
"Yes. Now be quiet."
"But—"
"Hush, man!"
And so Gerry Phantom hushed, and Kay Erik went on to sing the fourth verse of "It's a Small World, After All."
Two hours later, when he finally reached the last reprise, the Writers burst into applause. There were shouts of "Encore! Encore!" but the Eriks quickly silenced these.
And then people settled in for a long night.
"Its difficult to believe," said Willow Rose, frowning at the ceiling, "that this has only been one day. I mean, so much has happened—"
"Yeah," agreed ChristineX. "Twelve chapters worth."
"Oh, at least."
Most of them drifted into comforting dreams of phan-fiction with a thousand reviews.
"I can't sleep," said Hoshi, and sat up. She glanced at Leroux Erik, who sat a little ways away, tending to Real Christine. "Don't you have anything to read, or something?"
Leroux Erik looked at her for a moment, then wordlessly went into the bedroom. He returned with two thick books, one of which he handed to Hoshi, who looked at ti.
"Adventures in Microwave Cooking?"
He took it back, and handed her the other one.
"Muffins: A History," she read aloud. "Volume III?"
Leroux Erik tipped his head to one side.
"Is there a problem, mademoiselle?"
"Oh, no, no. No. No. It just seems— curiously appropriate, somehow."
Leroux Erik gave a slight bow and left her to read. With the aid of the book, she very quickly fell asleep.
The Eriks, who did not sleep very often, congregated in the far corner to discuss the situation some more. They were joined by Stalker Erik, who was wishing fervently for a laptop and an Internet connection, and eventually by Patrick Raoul, who was hugging a blanket around his shoulders and sat down in the midst of them as though they were best friends.
They stared at him.
"What do you want here, Monsieur le Vicomte?" inquired Kay Erik in his silkily dangerous voice.
"I spent practically the whole day asleep— when I wasn't being ravaged or attacked," said Patrick Raoul defensively. "I am bored, sir."
"And in your boredom you would risk your life to enjoy the company of the Opera Ghost?" said Kay Erik.
"Ghosts," said Gerry Phantom.
"That is what I said."
"No, I mean— ghosts, plural."
Kay Erik fixed a glare on him and then turned back to Raoul without speaking. Gerry Phantom wasn't content to let it go.
"Because its not just you, you know— there's a whole bunch of us. Now. In case you couldn't tell. Ghosts."
Kay Erik continued to ignore him, the back of his sleekly-shining head serving as an insult.
"Because, see, you said 'ghost.' As in one ghost. That's what you said. But there's more than one. And I was just correcting you. Because I don't like to be ignored. I've had my demands ignored more times than you can count, and I don't like it. Its annoying. I think that—"
Without moving his gaze from Patrick Raoul's face, Crawford Phantom lifted his hand and laid it delicately across Gerry Phantom's mouth, effectively silencing him.
"Thank you," sighed Kay Erik.
There was a pause while hundreds of malicious phantom eyes fixed on Patrick Raoul, who shrugged and said, "Well, I was bored. And I am still bored. Does no one have any cards? Or some whiskey, perhaps."
"No," breathed Leroux Erik. "No cards— no whiskey— perhaps you would care to fight a duel, monsieur—"
"Er, no thank you," said Patrick Raoul.
It was a rather inopportune moment for Emmy Christine to show up, and so of course she did. Gerry Phantom leapt to his feet and tried to block her from Patrick Raoul, but she saw him. And he saw her.
In the air between them was the same sort of sickeningly-sweet feeling that had passed that night on the roof, when they sang loudly at each other, accidentally spitting in each other's face, and using the duet as an excuse to snog repeatedly. Gerry Phantom muttered quiet curses to himself as Patrick Raoul stood and came to Emmy Christine's side.
"You came for me," said Emmy Christine, her mouth open.
"Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way to the lair beyond the lake, to take back the Christine that was stolen," answered Patrick Raoul, rather unoriginally.
"Oh, Raoul!"
"May I speak to you, Christine?"
"Oh, Raoul!"
"Over here, if you don't mind," he added, turning a mistrustful glare on Gerry Phantom, who was staring at him balefully and breathing with his mouth open and teeth bared in what was almost definitely not a friendly grin.
"Oh, Raoul!"
"Is that a yes?"
"Oh, Raoul!"
"Christine, listen to me. I need you to concentrate— concentrate, that's it— and tell me— do you really want to be down here in this dark and dreary lair with a Phantom?"
Christine tried, admirably, to come up with an intelligent answer to that. She concentrated so hard her eyes eventually crossed and Kay Erik frowned, sniffed, and said, "Is something burning?"
Finally she said, "I don't know!"
Patrick Raoul said, soothingly, "I understand, Christine. The presence of these monsters is making you uneasy."
"Hey!" said Stalker Erik, immediately taking offense.
"I was not referring to you."
"Oh. Hey!" he said, taking offense again. "Why not? I'm an Erik, same as— other Eriks." He turned to Crawford Phantom. "Aren't I?"
"Of course," muttered Crawford Phantom.
"Thank you."
"Let us go over to the other corner where we can confer in private, and perhaps— sing a duet."
Patrick Raoul drew her away from the group of Eriks.
Gerry Phantom sighed heavily and shook his head. "I don't know what she sees in him. Obviously I would be the better choice."
"Well, you know what they say," said Stalker Erik philosophically. "Love is blind. Ooh," he added as Patrick Raoul began to sing, "and deaf as well."
"I do not know what you see in her," said Kay Erik pointedly. "Her constant expression is curiously disturbing. The only word for it is 'vapid.'"
"Well, no, not the only word," corrected Crawford Phantom thoughtfully. "But it is a remarkably good way of describing it."
"I find it singularly appropriate," Kay Erik went on, disregarding Crawford Phantom and waving the copy of the musical that someone had given him, "that part of her lyrics are 'no thoughts within her head.'"
"There's a lot more to it than that!" said Gerry Phantom, offended.
Meanwhile, the song that Patrick Raoul sang went something like this:
"Christine, my Christine—
Christine, you are my Christine, Christine—
Christine Christine Christine—
Ooooooooooh— my Christine—"
And then Emmy Christine broke in and, quite unexpectedly, sang,
"Play that funky music, white boy—
Play that funky music— riiiiiiiight!"
And then they began to harmonize. The harmony was spot on, but hindered somewhat by the fact that they were singing two entirely different songs. Eventually Patrick Raoul segued into,
"I knew from the moment I saw you
That you were mine—
My Christine—
My Christine—
My— Chris-tine— "
Which seemed to match up a bit better, but Emmy Christine quickly went on to sing "Seventy-Six Trombones" complete with gestures. The quizzical looks on the faces of the Eriks was something to behold. Eventually one of them got sick of the music being murdered right in front of their eyes, and tried to kill the fop instead.
Patrick Raoul, once again, escaped by the good offices of sparklyscorpion, who was taking her job seriously. She leapt in front of him with a feral growl and showed her fingernails to the Erik who was coming after him. It would have been more frightening if she hadn't bitten them to the quick, but in times like these, you work with what you've got.
All of the Writers had woken up by this point, and were watching the show with enjoyment. No conclusion had been reached by the conference of Eriks, and now most of them decided it was simply time to leave.
The Writers didn't like this at all.
"You're— going?" choked Mademoiselle Daae. "But— you can't go! It can't be over this soon— it can't end like this!"
The Eriks ignored them and stalked in waves towards the exit.
The Writers stood and stared in horrified amazement at the spectacle of the Phantoms leaving the lair, much as, twelve chapters ago, the Readers had stared in not-horrified amazement at the spectacle of the Phantoms entering it.
"Are we driving them out?" whispered THELadyRedDeath. "Are they leaving because of us?"
"No," said Kay Erik behind them, "we're leaving because this is a stupid story and we want to go to one that at least makes some sense."
"But—"
"Yes, yes, I know, we may have a job finding one that does. But I happen to know there's an opening in one of Random Battlecry's serious phics, and I am not one to sneeze at a gift horse, if you know what I mean."
"No, what do you mean?"
"We can't let this happen!" shouted VegaOfTheLyre. "We can't let them leave!"
"Erik! Come back!" screamed Scarlett Red Rose.
"Erik!" shouted eyesofatragedy.
"Eriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiik!" sang anche, and was punjabbed for hitting the wrong note.
"Erik!" shouted longblacksatinlace.
"What they said!" shouted Killthefop.
"For God's sake take me with you!" begged Stalker Erik, who'd been latched onto once more by The Maiden Amorisa. She tugged as hard as she could and the two of them went over into the lake where, because I want to resolve the innate sexual tension between them, he finally succeeded in drowning her.
"I'm going to do something about this!" shouted Mandy the O, and did. She sat down and scribbled for a moment on her notepad, put a period on the sentence, and all of a sudden there was a gate across the exit— a gate with a shiny lock.
Some of the Eriks had escaped already, and those that were left turned on the Writers in fury, like trapped beasts, which at this point is pretty much what they were. But they'd only succeeded in maiming a few before Mandy held up the key.
"You keep hurting us, I am going to make this key disappear forever," she announced. "I mean it. Trust me, being stuck down here with you guys is not a hardship— not for me, anyway."
The Eriks gradually subsided, though Leroux Erik had his fingers wrapped around a Writer's throat and didn't let go for a while. That was alright, though, as the Writer happened to be ElfLover, a dedicated Leroux Erik phan girl, and didn't seem to mind being strangled as long as it meant he was touching her.
Kay Erik took the floor.
"What do you want from us?" he asked, breathing hard.
This was not a question that the Writer's had been expecting, and it took them some time to come up with an answer, and when they finally did, it wasn't a very good one.
"We'll— uh, we'll have to get back to you on that."
Kay Erik heaved a sigh.
"Listen," said Le Chat peevishly, "its not every day that we have mastery over our favourite fictional character. There's some argument as to what exactly we should do."
"I can imagine," said Kay Erik sourly.
Finally some sort of consensus seemed to be reached, and Meta-Chi, as the designated Spokesperson, laid out the demands as follows:
1: The Eriks won't attempt to harm any one of us, unless the person is somewhat odd and specifically asks for it.
2: The Eriks will come to each of us, depending on which is our personal favourite, at least once a week, to visit and for us to squee over.
3: The Eriks will give any assistance needed as far as writing phics goes.
4: Gerry Phantom owes us a strip-tease.
"Hey!" said Padfootz-luvr, "we agreed to take that out!"
"Too late," said Killthefop, with a dazed expression. And it was true, for Gerry Phantom had taken them at their word and voluntarily torn his shirt off.
"As for that one, I cannot, apparently, do anything about it. As for the rest—" Kay Erik sighed testily. "It appears that you want to shackle our lives, bind us to your will, hmm?"
"Yes, that's right," said the Writers.
"And, uh, I feel the need to tell you that if these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur," said lazy.kender, chuckling at her own cleverness.
Kay Erik stared balefully at her. "And I feel the need to tell you that you are an idiot."
"Huh?"
Kay Erik heaved a sigh. "Ah, subtle sarcasm— the last refuge of the intelligent stranded among the obtuse."
"I object!" said letthedreamdescend.
"This isn't a court of law!"
"We shall need some time to think about it," said Crawford Phantom, coming up and taking Kay Erik by the arm. Kay Erik snatched his arm away. "Now, er, go off and be good little Writers in the corner, alright? We must discuss this amongst ourselves."
And so the two groups separated, the Writers and their hostages, and much discussion went on. Somewhere above their heads the voice of Random Battlecry floated down— she was discussing things with her minions, her PR agent, and her pretend-husband.
"I don't know if I can string this out much further."
"Aw, come on, boss!"
"Yeah, think of your readers. What'll they do without this phic around?"
"Um— slowly regain their sanity?"
There was a pause.
"Good point."
"I'm kind of running out of steam, you see. Considering that this wasn't supposed to go past one chapter, its amazing it lasted this long."
Another pause.
"You're right, it is amazing."
"Thank you, Jackie," said Random Battlecry sourly. "Have any of you anything constructive to add?"
There was a general silence.
"Great. That's just great. What are minions for, anyway?"
"Shoes," said Hoshi.
"And carrot cake," said phantomzgerl.
"That's right," said Random wistfully. "I was forgetting about the carrot cake—"
"Why not muffins?" asked darksidetwin12 keenly.
"Well, I like muffins, too, but they were just a joke, you know. I didn't know they were going to take the world by storm. You know there's an entire religion based on muffins now?"
"Really?" said Misty Breyer
"No. Good God, you're gullible."
There was another silence, followed by a few twangs from Masque de Nuit, tuning his guitar in the corner.
"Is he going to sing?"
"Does the Pope poo in the woods?" said Celtic Heart tiredly.
Another pause.
"No."
"What?"
"No. No, the Pope does not poo in the woods. He lives in the Vatican."
"I was trying to be funny."
"Well, you failed."
"Guys, this is doing nothing for the ending of the chapter."
"Sorry Random."
"Sorry."
"Shoes, please, Hoshi."
"Here you are, boss."
"Thank you."
Another pause and a soft grunt from Masque as he broke a guitar string. Random rattled the chain that confined her to the desk.
"He does drive a Popemobile, though," said Renee17.
"What?"
"The Pope. He drives a Popemobile."
"Oh, how would you know what the Pope drives?"
"I read it in the National Enquirer."
"What should I play?" asked Masque de Nuit.
"Something."
"I was planning to."
"No, I mean, 'Something,' the George Harrison song."
"You know, George Harrison was the Ringo of the Beatles, really."
"Brilliant, Adison."
"Thank you, Hoshi."
"Play 'Something.'"
"I don't like that song."
"Play it anyway."
"I'm not going to play a song I don't like."
"Then play anything, play 'Row Row Row Your Boat' for all I care."
Another pause.
"Random, you're in a bad mood, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not, Erik, I just don't know how to end this chapter. Look, I've gone on for two pages now. People are starting to complain."
"Just say 'the end.'"
"I can't just say the end, I have an image to uphold."
"Bugger your image."
"Thank you for that oh-so-adult comment, YoukoElfMaiden."
"Well I can't help it, I'm bored."
"So am I."
"So are your readers," said Masque quietly, and began to play something he had written himself.
There was another pause, and then Random said, "Hey, I know, lets have an extremely sudden en—"
