A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everybody! I didn't think anyone would actually read this :)

Christine and Raoul just stood there for a while, each waiting for the other to say something, tapping their feet nervously.

After two and a half long hours of this, it was Raoul who finally broke the silence. "OhgirlIloveyouwillyoumarryme?" he blurted at warp speed.

Christine burst out laughing again. "Get a grip, buddy."

Raoul looked hurt. "Hey, I was serious."

"I didn't bring you here to babble garbled marriage proposals at me."

"Well, what the hell did you bring me here for? Because I've been standing around for two and a half hours waiting for you to tell me!"

"Uh…well…I…" Christine shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Er… um, I-I don't remember."

"That is without a doubt the lamest, most pathetic excuse for a lie I've ever heard in my life. You know, I heard you talking to your little boyfriend in your dressing room the other night."

She was visibly startled. "You heard him? You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hey, were you the one who chopped my mannequin into a million pieces?"

"Well, it was dark and I couldn't see well enough to--hey!" Raoul folded his arms stubbornly. "Don't change the subject. This isn't about me or how many things I chopped into a million pieces that night. This is about you and your secret boyfriend!"

"What exactly did you hear?"

"What are you asking me for? You heard the words in person, without having them muffled by that pesky door!"

"Just tell me, already!" She grabbed his lapels and shook him violently.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Raoul warned. "I'm still kind of queasy from that milkshake binge, and this is only making it worse."

"All right, all right!" She released him. "Now talk!"

"Well," he began, staggering dizzily for a moment, "he was saying some awfully familiar stuff about you loving him every waking moment, and you were telling him you had just given him your soul."

Christine's face went white. "Eep! I-I-I gotta go!" She raced upstairs, running over two unfortunate little old ladies on the way up.

The vicomte shrugged helplessly. "Must be a female thing."

Dejected, and unable to find an open place that served milkshakes, Raoul decided to take a stroll over to the graveyard. He didn't have much chance to pine, though, because a few minutes after he arrived, someone snuck up behind him and clamped a hand over his mouth.

Raoul was on his feet in a split second. He wheeled around, grabbed his attacker by the arm, and punched them in the head.

"Ow! Raoul, what are you doing?" Christine struggled to keep her balance, rubbing her injured head gingerly.

A horrified Raoul caught her in his arms just before she keeled over. "Are you okay? Honeybear, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger!"

"Do I look like a mugger!"

"Hey, you snuck up on me in deserted graveyard in the middle of the night and tried to smother me! What's a guy supposed to think?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. Do you remember when we were little and Daddy used to tell us about that invisible Angel of Music?"

"Yeah. I had a flashback scene about it and everything."

"Well, while he was on his deathbed, he promised me he'd send me the Angel of Music when he was in heaven."

"Yeah? What's your point? He also said that a bunch of fairy dwarves come to this graveyard and have dances every night."

"Okay, so maybe he did have a…vivid imagination…but he was right about the Angel of Music thing, at least. I know, because he's already come to visit me."

A beat. "Oh. Okay." Christine had had these little episodes before, and Raoul had always found that when she didn't have her medication with her, it was best just to play along.

"You mean you believe me?"

"Sure, Honeybear. If you say so."

"I'm serious! Remember when you heard the man's voice in my dressing room? It was really the angel's voice."

"Okay, we have a new winner. This is now the lamest, most pathetic excuse for a lie I've ever heard in my life."

"I'm telling the truth, you rat!"

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"For the umpteenth time, yes! So, what do you think?"

For a long moment, his fear of offending the woman he loved battled with his fear of the criminally insane. "I…I…I think we need to find an all-night pharmacy and get your prescription refilled."

Christine burst into tears. "Fine, then! See if I ever try to confide in you again! I knew I should have just listened to my invisible friend! He told me never to trust anyone but him!" With that, she ran off, still wailing.

Raoul stared after her, looking shell-shocked. "Gosh. There wasn't anything in that book of Philippe's about how to handle this sort of thing. Just the same, I probably ought to follow her and make sure she gets home okay. Poor girl doesn't seem any too stable right now."

Raoul followed Christine through the graveyard, until she suddenly stopped and began to dance to some mysterious, disembodied music. It was a song her father had often played for them, and it seemed to be coming from a heap of bones. After a few minutes of this, Christine walked to the gate as though in a trance. Raoul was about to run after her. He knew she wouldn't want to talk to him, but after hearing a heap of old bones sing, he was pretty sure he needed to borrow some of her pills.

Before he could call for her to wait up, though, a guy with a skull for a face popped up from behind the heap of bones, and began to bombard Raoul with flaming skulls shot from a grenade launcher. "My girlfriend's not crazy!" thundered the mysterious voice from the opera house. "She's just eccentric! SO BACK OFF!"

Raoul kept trying to ask who the skeleton-man was and what he wanted, but every time he opened his mouth, it wound up full of flaming skull. Finally, the poor vicomte just gave up and let the skulls batter him into blissful unconsciousness.

Back at the opera house, Moncharmin and Richard were still trying to get to the bottom of the Opera Ghost mystery.

"I still say it's probably just a harmless prank, Richard," Moncharmin insisted while they were spending the night in the theater, staking out Box Five. Rather bored, he zipped up his sleeping back and began to smear avocado mask on his face.

"Just go back to drawing in your diary, and leave running the opera house to me," snapped Richard, peering through a pair of binoculars.

"Lighten up, will you?" Moncharmin rolled his eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I don't even know why--AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!"

Richard smacked his partner upside the head. "Don't blow our cover! God, I think you've been spending too much time around those ridiculous little ballet girls!"

"They're not ridiculous. They're my friends and they understand me! But we've got bigger fish to fry right now. Look up at Box Five."

Richard glanced back up at the Phantom's private box, then paled and dropped his binoculars with a loud thump. "AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH! The ghost is up there!" Sure enough, a dark, shadowy figure was milling around in the box.

"I told you! We're all gonna die!" Moncharmin jumped into his partner's arms. "Hold me!"

"Only if you hold me!"

They sat there for a while, clutching each other and shaking with terror, until a guy with a camera appeared in one of the windows and began snapping photos of them. "All right!" cheered the photographer. "Front page material for sure! The editor's going to flip when he gets a look at these!" He darted away in hurry, laughing triumphantly.

The managers abruptly released each other at though they had been burned. Moncharmin groaned. "Oh, man, how am I gonna explain this to Jennifer?"'

Richard went around and slammed all the windows shut, his face almost blue with fury. "That's it! This ghost is toast!"

"What are we gonna do with him?"

"Well, we're taking back his box, for starters."

Meanwhile, the shadowy figure had made his way down from the box and tapped Moncharmin on the shoulder. They were surprised to discover that it wasn't the Opera Ghost after all, but a vampire to whom he bore slight resemblance.

"Excuse me, good messieurs?" the vampire ventured. "The Opera Ghost is out on business. I'm his good friend Von Krolock; he asked me to keep an eye on the place while he was gone, and give you this note if there was any trouble."

"Oh. Uh, thanks."

"My pleasure." The vampire whistled and waved at a second dark figure in the box. "Come on, Quasimodo. We've got to get the mess from the party cleaned up before Erik gets back and totally has a cow."

The Hunchback of Notre Dame frowned uncomprehendingly.

The vampire glared. "Sure, sure, you can't understand me because you're deaf. Tell me, why exactly does your deafness come and go, only popping up when there's work to be done?"

"Oh, just shut up…" The two gothic monsters disappeared into the shadows.

Richard cleared his throat nervously. "Okay, whatever. Now read the note."

Moncharmin opened it up. "Let's see…"

Dear Richard and Moncharmin,

You're really starting to get on my nerves. So, unless you want to find yourselves lying in a graveyard watching the fairy dwarves dance, you'd better shut your worthless mouths and meet the following list of demands:

1. I want my box back, like, yesterday.

2. I want you to give that hot…I mean talented Christine Daae the lead role tonight. I'll take care of that cow Carlotta…hehehehehe…

3. Re-hire my buddy Mme. Giry. She may be a weirdo, but she's easy to kick around

4. GIVE ME MY FREAKING MONEY

5. I also want that cute little Mephistopheles bobble-head doll on Richard's desk

Or else!

--Your pal,

O.G.

Richard stamped his foot stubbornly. "My bobble-head doll? No way! Man, I hate running a haunted opera! It's nothing like the career profile said!"

Mercier poked his head in the door. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but the groom wants to talk to you."

"Groom? I didn't know anyone was getting married. Ooh, I love weddings!" Moncharmin reached for his diary.

"No, no, I mean the guy who takes care of the twelve horses in the stable."

"Horses? What the hell does a theater need twelve horses for?"

"When the crowds get restless, we bring them up onstage and have them count for the audience," the groom explained.

"Oh. Well, what's the problem, then?"

"The Opera Ghost swiped Cesar. He was our best animal, too! He could count all the way up to twenty!"

"GRRR! Not him again!" Richard groaned. "Moncharmin, give the man some money for a new horse. I've got to go call Ghostbusters."