A/N: Christine makes a bigger appearance in this chapter. Also Erik learns that he's gotten several names wrong. Forgive me for making Christine so air-headed. But really she must have been, for after all, who would pick our friend the fop over Erik?

I still heard the shrill shriek of Maggie on my way through my lair. I'd decided to use my mirror passageway, my own substitute for a fire escape. Hey, every level of a multistory building has to have a fire escape, right? I turned to the mirror, made sure I looked okay (Miss Day was very pretty, and I was considering inviting her back down to the lair for tea, or maybe dinner, or maybe the rest of her life), and opened up the passage by the convenient lever right next to it. I climbed up the stairway, stumbled through a dark tunnel, rode a horse across sweltering plains, swam through several oceans, hopped over the moon and finally I was in Miss Day's dressing room.

Alas, there was no one there.

"Chrissy?" I called, thinking that perhaps a year or two had passed while I was traveling through the passage. Maybe she'd already moved out.

I heard a response, but it was only faint. I pressed my ear against the stone wall of her dressing room. It took me a while, but finally I understood.

Chrissy had said, "Meg, did you just call me Chrissy?"

Meg! That was her name. Silly me. That's two names I've mistaken that day! Rolly and Mag. What was I thinking?

"Of course not! I said, 'Christine, Christine' and I was about to launch into song about where you'd been hiding. Why would I call you Chrissy? Really, Christine, that's such a childish nickname."

Oops. That's three names I've messed up.

"Oh, well then," replied Christine, "continue."

And little Meg did. They proceeded to sing a nice little song together about a person named Angel of Music, whom Meg did not believe in, and by the end of the tune they had me tapping my foot and humming it under my breath. I had that song stuck in my head for weeks, which is actually a good thing, because it replaced the other song I'd been singing for a while—"Let's Get It Started" by the Black Eyed Peas. One of the stagehands had been playing it on his portable radio, and I was having an infinite amount of trouble wondering why the song said, "Let's get it started in ha" instead of the more understandable word "here." Finally I had decided it was some type of primitive slang.

The girls finished their song, and I heard their footsteps outside as Meg walked her friend back to her dressing room. I grimaced, knowing that if I was spotted by little Meg, there would be another half hour of screaming and pointing, and I'd probably have to give her another truffle as a bribe for shutting up, and I didn't want that for I was running low on truffles already. I slipped quietly back through the mirror passage, closed the door, and waited on the other side for Meg to make her exit. Soon, I heard Christine bid her goodbye, and heard her little ballerina footsteps disappear down the passage.

As soon as Meg left, more footsteps could be heard in the passage. The door opened, and Mr. Hiccup entered the room. I knew that wasn't his name, but I didn't know what his real name was. I went over possible nicknames in my head: Rolly, Mr. Hiccup, Fop—I wasn't sure where that one came from. I just looked at him and my mind said, quite simply, 'Fop.'

I decided I liked Fop best.

So Mr. Fop entered the room, and strutted around talking to Miss Day, calling her by the name of Latte, or Lotte or something. She seemed quite enamored with the Fop, and when he invited her to dinner I was sure I'd missed my chance. But then she started up her spiel about this Angel fellow again, talking about how strict he was and how he visited her at night in her bed and sang songs to her (at this point I decided that the Angel was some perverted teacher of hers). The fop just laughed and told her to get ready for dinner. Then he left.

I was just about ready to open the mirror again when I saw Miss Day, who I shall begin to call Christine, reach to the back of her dress. At first I thought she was just pulling it up a bit, as it had begun to slip down, but then I realized she was doing exactly the opposite. As she started to slide it off and reach for her dressing gown, I whirled around and looked embarrassedly down at the ground.

Vaguely I wondered how I was seeing all of this through a mirror. Looking more closely at the back of the door-mirror-thing, I realized that I'd bought the wrong type of glass for my passageway door. I thought two-way mirror glass meant that there was a mirror on each side, which would have been very useful, as sometimes I forget crucial items to my appearance (i.e. shoes, pants, mask), and it would have been good to check before I emerged into the outside world. But apparently, two-way mirror glass meant that you could see through one side. Into a young girl's changing room. Where she would, invariably, change clothes.

Oops.

I waited a bit, and then turned around, hoping that she'd finished. Luckily she was done dressing, and tying the little rope of the dressing gown around her slim, slender waist, and running one hand through her wavy, glossy locks—

Excuse me. I'll continue with the story now.

I stepped up to the mirror, truffles and rose in hand, and then realized I had no idea how to begin. I've always been a little awkward around girls that I find particularly lovely, so I decided to start out with a question. Taking a deep breath, I opened the mirror. She didn't seem to notice.

"So, erm…what's the name of your little suitor?" I asked uncomfortably.

Apparently, Christine hadn't realized I was there. She jumped at the sound of my voice, then raised her honey brown eyes to the sky, clasped her hands together in pleading, opened her mouth wide and started to sing very loudly (although beautifully! Let the record show that she did sing beautifully!) about something I didn't quite understand.

Finally I realized that she was pleading the Angel of Music for forgiveness. I shrugged and decided to let her finish before pressing my question again.

She did finish. Then there was silence. She stood staring at the ceiling, and when it didn't reply, she blinked at it in shock. The ceiling just sat there, up on top of the wall, saying nothing. This continued for a while. Blink, blink—nothing. Blink, blink—nothing. My brain started working while she sat there blinking, and I started to think that maybe the child was a bit disturbed, and perhaps I should return at a later date, when she dropped her arms and looked around the room, just happening to glance at the mirror.

Apparently, she thought I was hiding in the ceiling (which I must figure out how to do someday). When she saw me, she jumped (again), clasped her hands together in pleading (again), opened her mouth very wide (again), and started to sing loudly the same verses once more, only to me this time. And after she finished, she blinked at me instead of the ceiling.

"Me?" I asked at last. "Wait, I'm the Angel of Music?"

She nodded ecstatically.

"Oh, no, you must be mistaken," I said nervously, shifting from foot to foot. "I'm not—I never—"

"Angel of Music! Guide and guardian!" she protested. "Grant me to your glory!"

"Glory? Honey, I don't—I'm not sure what you're talking abou—"

"GRANT ME TO YOUR GLORY!" she demanded, stomping her foot. "COME TO ME, STRANGE ANGEL!"

"Um…I'm your Angel of Music?" I asked, confused again."Then, that means I--I never sang songs--maybe I should leave...here, why don't you come to me instead?" It was only after I said it that I realized what my request must sound like. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that! I only wanted—we could have tea—"

But Christine didn't hear me, or at least she made no visible reference that she had understood my words. She was walking toward me, misty-eyed, singing at the top of her lungs about the Angel of Music.

"Er, truffle?" Ioffered weakly, extending the hand that held one.

She reached out, and I thought she was going to take the truffle. But she took my hand instead. Not that I minded, of course.

Thank you to…

Blueberrymarker: Thanks a lot! grins I love making people laugh! Like this one time I made my friend Sydney squirt orange juice through her nose…but that's a different story. :)

Nota Lone: I like making up excuses…unfortunately none of my teachers ever believe that the rampaging chimp stole my essay while I was walking to school!

Vampire Kid Kara: feels smart Thanks a lot! The Rolly the Hiccup part actually came from my little cousin, when I was trying to tell him the story and I said 'Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny' with a French accent how it's supposed to be said, and he says, "Why would anyone name a kid that? Hiccup?" Then I asked him what he thought I'd said…and he heard what Erik heard.

Son Ange: Yes, this side of Erik is rarely seen…only in fictionalized Eriks does it ever show its face! And I'm sure he'd appreciate that cute comment. ;-)

Clintongroth: Don't get me wrong, I love the movie, it was my first experience to Phantom…but it's just so fun to mess with! The characters are in for 'quite a spin', as you put it!

Angel-of-Music1331: Hee, I'm actually not one to go for out-of-character Eriks myself. But I just thought, you know, what if it all WAS an accident?

Nisiyouri: Aw, I feel loved! Thank you!

for being really sweet! You all deserve some of Erik's delightful truffles!