A/N: No review replies this time. I... I... I haven't the strength. Let me just say A: This chapter and one more. So, obviously, for all those of you who thought "12" meant "14," the last chapter wasn't the end. And neither is this one. The end is not for a good while yet, if I and the mad people in my head have anything to say about it. I will let you know when it is the end. Probably by saying "THE END" or something. B: Over five hundred reviews. Bless you. Bless you all. C: I apologize in advance for this chapter. And despite the chapter title, it really is a chapter. I apologize also, if this misled you in any way.

Chapter Thirteen: Not Really Another Chapter

All was silent in the little room wherein Random sat, scribbling in the margin of her notebook.

"Great."

"What, boss?"

"I can't come up with a beginning, either, for the next chapter."

"Speaking of which, boss, have you thought of an ending for the phic yet?"

"I know the last line— that's about it."

"What's the last line?"

"Like I'd tell you."

A pause.

"I like it."

"Stop being facetious. Someone get me some aspirin, please—"

"You could end it with a wedding."

"Just what are you suggesting, YoukoElfMaiden?"

"Oh, you know—"

"You just want to marry an Erik."

"Oh, me? No, no, no. Alright."

"I know," said Masque de Nuit brightly. "End it with all the Writers getting punjabbed by Leroux Erik, and then he punjabs all the other Phantoms, too, and then he has his lair back to himself again."

Another pause.

Then the rest of them said, all at once, "No!"

"Nobody likes my ideas," mumbled Masque.

Random sighed. "I think I'm just going to have to resort to more insanity."

"So what else is new?"

"I'm going to send in all the versions of Phantom— that were ever even imagined."

"Won't that be rather messy and confusing?"

"At this point, do you think it matters?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Anyway, that'll give me a chance to use the Antonio Banderas version."

A shocked silence.

Then a shocked, "What?"

"They were going to cast him before Gerry Butler. I was talking about it with my sister, and trying to figure out what it would have been like—"

"What'd you come up with?"

"Nothing pretty."

"For example?"

Random switched into her Spanish accent. "Christ-een! Bring me some tequila, my thro-at is parch-ed, Christ-een! Christ-een, Macarena for-a meeee, Christ-een, for-a meeee!"

There was another shocked silence, and then subdued snorts.

"Well, my sister thought it was funny," said Random, sounding injured.

"And your sister is how old?"

"Well, it is funny! The first time I did it, we laughed so hard— look, you had to have been there."

"Do it, boss. Put him in there."

"I just might."

"Someone suggested we put in the Madame Girys and the Buquets and—"

"That's 'Bucket.'"

"Is it?"

"I don't know."

"And Mary-Sues, and everything."

"Hmm," said Random thoughtfully. "I suppose putting those in would prolong the life of the phic—"

A breathless silence.

"But I just don't think I can pull it off."

"Aw—"

"Don't whine, phantomzgerl."

"Aw, but Random—"

"You either, Jackie. No, I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and finish the phic."

"Aww—"

"Oh, come on. You know you're really just a conversation I'm having with myself, and I'm making you protest the ending just to make myself feel better about it."

"Stop being realistic, Random, you're sapping the fun out of life."

"I think I'll use that line," said Random, noting it down for future reference. "You know, I do feel really bad about cheating people out of a chapter like this— filling it with made-up conversations carried on entirely in italics— perhaps I just won't post this at all. What do you think?"

Silence.

"Thanks for the encouragement, guys."

"Can't help it, it is kind of stupid to put up a chapter like this."

"Well, I feel bad, I really do, but I can't think of a beginning for the next chapter! Look, I'll just have Gerry continue his strip-tease, okay?"

"And what is this phic supposed to be rated again?"

"I won't show anything. I mean, I can't show anything. Its print. How can one show anything in print?"

"I don't know, but considering its Gerry, I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if the paper burst into flames."

There was a bit of a pause.

"That was an— unusual comment for you to make, Erik."

"Look, even I have to admit the guy is hot!"

"Yeah, okay, don't get defensive."

"I'm not getting defensive! He's just— he's hot, is all. Is there a problem with one guy calling another guy hot?"

"Not in some states, no," said Renee17 quietly.

"I resent that remark."

"Oh, go chase your tail."

Random shivered. "There. I wrote it. And now I need to go take a cold shower."

"Hey!" squealed Misty Breyer. "Sudden thought! I'll bet— that Gerry Butler— takes showers— naked!"

There was, as usual, a bit of a pause.

"Moving on," said Random. "Hey, has anyone seen my pen?"

"No," said Masque de Nuit. Random glared at him.

"You took my pen, didn't you Erik? You're trying to sabotage the rest of the phic. You want me to stop writing so everyone will go review your poetry, don't you, Erik?"

"No," said Masque, uncomfortably.

"Give me the pen, Erik!"

"I don't have it!"

"Give it to me NOW, Erik!"

"That was rather unfortunate phrasing—"

"I mean it! Why don't you— oh, look, never mind, it fell underneath the desk."

And so Random retrieved her pen by way of an indirect innuendo, and Gerry Phantom continued his strip-tease, much to the delight of his phan-girls, and the shock of Gerard Butler, who was reading this phic from his New York apartment.

He reached for the power button on his computer and switched it off, muttering, in his sexy Scottish accent, "How can they show this filth on the Internet? I'd be ashamed!"

Heaving a sigh, he went to make some fopcorn, take a long hot shower (naked), and get ready for his date with the now-legal Emmy Rossum.