They were both sickeningly, nauseatingly happy for the next few days. I'd go into detail, but I wouldn't want to give anyone a cavity. But they were having such a blast together that after a week, Raoul decided to give up his dreams of having his own gingerbread mansion at the North Pole to stay in Paris with Christine. She tried to point out that the deal had been that he would leave after a month was up, but he was too busy picking out their china pattern to listen.

When he went over to her house the next evening to see if she was up for a game of Frisbee, there was no answer. Concerned, he went inside to see if her foster mom knew where she had gone.

"Morning, Monsieur Enjolras. How's the revolt coming?" Mamma Valerius greeted.

Over the past few days, Raoul had given up trying to correct her. "Should be ready any day now, Madame Valerius. I was just wondering if you'd seen Christine?"

"She's gone off with that Erik again."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Raoul cried.

"Sorry, Enjy, but it's probably for the best. Now I get as much medication as I want, Erik gets Christine, and you can go back to being married to the Republic. Everyone's happy. Now excuse me while I kiss the sky." She poured a bottle full of tranquilizers in her mouth and promptly conked out.

Raoul shook her vigorously. "Mme. Valerius, wait! I still have more questions!"

But all she would do was snore and hum something about "the blood of angry men". Finally the viscount gave up and decided to check for Christine down at the opera house. By the time he found her, she was wearing the wedding ring again, not to mention the fact that someone had stamped the words "Erik's girl, kindly keep your paws off" on her face.

"Christine?" Raoul piped up.

"Honeybear!" Christine grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the closet with her again.

Raoul cringed. "Maybe I should have mentioned this earlier, but I've always been a little claustrophobic…"

"Raoul…"

"Er, what I meant to say was, I'm so sorry Honeybear, I'll be a good boy and go away to the ends of the earth after my month's up, just pleeeeeeeease take me back! Please? I'll give you a milkshake!"

"Chocolate?"

"Sure."

"Okay!"

And they spent the next couple of days playing tag and begging for stories just like in the old days, and being disgustingly adorable yet again. Raoul was so happy that he worked up the strength to throw away all his milkshakes.

One day, while playing hide-and-seek in the opera house, the viscount tripped over the entrance to the labyrinthine cellars of the opera and clapped his hands excitedly. "Wow! Christine, I just found the coolest hiding place ever!"

"No!" Christine screamed in pure terror. "That's where Erik lives! He's got all kinds of freaky trapdoors of doom and a bunch of terrifying torture devices in there! He controls everything underground with an iron fist and if you set foot down there you'll surely die a horrific, excruciating death!"

"Oh, so Erik lives down there?"

"What?" Christine scrunched up her forehead. "Whatever gave you that idea, Raoul?"

"B-but you just said--"

"Honestly, I don't know where you get these crazy ideas sometimes, Honeybear. Now let's go play Duck, Duck, Goose."

"No, I want to discuss your stalker!"

Christine's eyes darted around apprehensively. "Ex-nay on the alker-stay while we're standing on the apdoor-tray, okay?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, just come with me." She took his hand and led him up to the roof, pursued by an incorporeal shadowy figure who was either Erik or Hollowman.

"Request permission to speak, dear?" Raoul said once they were safely on the roof.

"Granted."

"Now, why do you keep going back to this guy who stalks you and threatens anyone who competes for your affections with death?"

"Because you're sweet and thoughtful and you give me lots of milkshakes."

"I was talking about Erik."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? I don't know. I guess because if I dump him he'll cry."

"Is that all? I can cry! I cry all the time!" Raoul began to work up some tears, but it was no use.

"Nice try, Raoul, but I can't just run away to elope with you tonight on two seconds' notice and break the already fragile heart of a man who worships the ground I walk on."

"Fair enough. How about tomorrow night?"

"Okay! In that case, I'd better go buy myself a wedding dress. Oh, and some lingerie for our wedding night!"

At that point, Erik, or Hollowman, or whoever it was let out a cry of agony. "AAAAAAAGGGHHH! NO! This can't be happening! Why, God, why!"

Christine glanced over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"That was me! I, uh, stubbed my toe," Raoul replied.

"Oh, good. For a minute I thought it might be Erik again. He's one scary dude, especially that awful face of his…"

Erik/Hollowman screamed with anguish. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO! How could you! Oh, please, God in Heaven, just let me die!"

Christine gave Raoul a funny look.

"I-I-I got a splinter that time," the viscount fibbed. "I don't have a real high tolerance for pain. Now, why don't you tell me about Erik?"

"Well, the first time I saw him, I didn't actually see him because he was hiding in my mirror. He just kept hiding in my mirror and singing at me. He's a really good singer, so of course I naturally assumed he was the Angel of Music my dad promised to send me."

"That doesn't make sense. There are lots of good singers who are perfectly mortal"

"Hey, he's a really really really really good singer. Really."

"Okay…"

"Plus he was invisible just like the angel in the story. Anyway, I asked him if he was the Angel of Music, and he said, 'I can be anybody you want me to be, hot stuff.' I took that as a yes.

"So the Angel of Music asked if he could come and give me singing lessons every day. I said, 'Sure, why not? I'm a Swedish orphan without any friends, it ain't like I've got anything better to do.' The invisible Angel and I got to be buddies, and eventually I got rid of all my imaginary invisible friends so I could spend more time with him."

"Oh, so that's why you don't have Timmy the Talking Tree-Frog anymore!"

"Yeah. So the Angel of Music taught me how to sing really really well, and I started to get a little freaked out. I was such a crappy singer before he got hold of me, I thought he might be using witchcraft to doctor my voice up. Anyway, I saw you in the audience one night, looking all fine and cute, and went skipping back to my dressing room to doodle your name in my diary. Then the angel got all jealous and went away, growling something about insolent boys and slaves of fashion."

"Harsh."

"The next time I talked to him, he made me promise to ignore you and treat you like garbage for the rest of my life. I promised I would."

"Gee, thank you so much for standing up for our great love," Raoul retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, I didn't see any point in chasing after you. Opera performers don't marry noblemen. The best I could hope for was some sleazy affair where we snuck around and wound up handcuffed together all the time. At any rate, I got to fill in for Carlotta after she had some kind of mysterious accident involving the Opera Ghost and a large bowl of ice cream she wouldn't give him."

"You mean the night you started crying and fainting onstage for no apparent reason?" Raoul asked.

Christine shot him a glare. "Hey, I'm a girl and this is the Victorian Period. I don't need a reason to faint. So the voice got all jealous again when you came to see me. That's why I treated you like dirt. I actually thought your flashback scene was really cute."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, you already know about my little jaunt to Perros and the whole incident with the skeleton man…"

"Yeah," Raoul muttered, rubbing a large bump on his head.

Then, that night chandelier fell on that unfortunate temp, I got to worrying that the Angel might have been hurt in the crash. Oh, I know he was supposed to be immortal, but I still figured he might need a Band-Aid or something. So I went back to my dressing room to look for him. He was there waiting for me, and somehow managed to pull me right through the mirror on the wall."

"Uh-oh. Christine, have you been taking your pills?

"Yes," snapped Christine.

"Have you been getting into your mom's pills?"

"No!"

"Okay, if you say so. I guess a guy who gets beaten up by a singing skeleton man with a skull bazooka shouldn't try to judge another person's sanity."

"Thank you. I was pulled into a dark black tunnel with Cesar the Counting Horse and some bony guy wearing a mask and cape like something out of a bad dime novel. He put me up on Cesar and started leading me through the tunnel.

"I told the guy that if he was looking for the costume party, he had the wrong night. He got all ticked off and said, 'Don't you get it? I'm the Phantom of the Opera.'

"Then I said, 'That's funny, you sound just like the Angel of Music.'

"So he said, 'Read between the lines, Christine!' and that was when it hit me. The Phantom of the Opera had killed the Angel of Music, and I started crying. The Opera Ghost just started hitting his head against the wall and grumbling, 'What have I gotten myself into?'

"He led me through the tunnels for about a half hour. Finally, I realized that we were going in circles, and I asked him if he was lost. He got really insulted and said, 'No, dear, just a shortcut.' I told him not to be ashamed if he needed to consult a map or ask for directions, but he insisted that he knew where he was going. At this point, I began to suspect he might be a man.

A few hours later, we got to the edge of a lake, and he lifted me into a boat and paddled us across. Unfortunately, he paddled us to the wrong side, but after two more tries, he got it right, and carried me out of the boat and into a drawing room. There, he fell to his knees and confessed, 'Christine, I'm not really an angel, or a ghost, or a vampire, or a mummy, or a werewolf, or any other supernatural type of thing. My name is Erik, and I'm a man.'

"'It figures,' I said."

"Hey," Raoul interjected. "Don't stereotype. I'm a man, and I never get lost."

"Sure you don't, Honeybear."

"Hey, I studied navigation in military school for four years."

"Well, why didn't you use your knowledge that time we were walking to the other side of the village to beg for stories and somehow wound up in Italy?"

"Okay, so maybe one time…"

"And then there was that time when we were playing hide and seek, and you hid in the closet and couldn't find your way out…"

"Fine, two times, then, but that's still…

"And that time you accidentally wandered into those tar pits…"

"Ugh. I'm still finding bits of tar in my hair. All right, you've made your point."

"And the time that you--"

"Hey, lay off! Jeez, you're supposed to love me, remember?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "What's the big deal? Erik never responded to criticism this way."

"Oh, so maybe you'd rather be with him? Huh!"

"Just settle down. You're having milkshake withdrawal."

"Well, would you?"

"God, no, he gives me the creeps. Although I do feel sorry for him. And it is kind of flattering how he's always kissing my shoes and stuff."

"Okay, sorry I interrupted you. You were saying…?"

"He told me he loved me and I had nothing to fear from him unless I tried to take off his mask, in which case he'd be forced to slowly and painfully torture me to death. He sang me to sleep, and when I woke up, I was lying in a very tastefully decorated room and there was a note on my pillow.

'Dear Cuddlebunny,' it began.

Don't worry, I just stepped out to go buy us some breakfast. I tried to fix you some waffles, but I accidentally set them on fire. Long story. Don't run off, I'll be back in few, and besides, I've taken the liberty of Super-Gluing your door shut.

-Love and kisses,

Erik

When he got back, he led me out of my bedroom, into a dining room that smelled very strongly of smoke. After breakfast, he gave me the grand tour.

'This is my bedroom, and that's my coffin, and this is my paper clip collection, and that is my secret cloning laboratory, and this is my pipe organ,' he said.

'Uh…cool, I guess,' I said. 'Say, what's this music on top of the organ?'

'NO!' Erik snatched the music out of my hands and stuffed it down his pants. 'Hands off! That's my Forbidden Operatic Masterpiece of Doom!'

'Your Forbidden Operatic Masterpiece of Doom?'

'Yes. I call it Don Juan Triumphant for short. I've been pouring my heart and soul into it for twenty years now, and once it's perfect, I'll bury it in the ground where no one will ever be able to hear it.'

'But...why?'

'My buddy the Daroga says it's because I have a fear of failure.' Then he tried to cover that up by adding, 'Oh, but mostly because, uh…the music in it is…d-dangerous! That's it. Yes, I'm a real bad boy! Does that appeal to you?'

'No. I usually go for the cute blond choir-boy types,' I answered.

'Well, maybe you'll change you mind after I've kept you locked up in my dungeon for a week.'

'What! Erik, it's no wonder you have to resort to kidnapping and impersonating supernatural creatures to get a date if this is how you handle all your girlfriends!'

'I don't have any other girlfriends.'

'I can see why!'

'There, there, don't get your shorts in a knot. I'm not going to try and hit on you or anything. We'll just study music the whole time.'

'Study? Give me a break, Erik, that's the planet's oldest excuse to make out.'

'Settle down. Here, maybe a song will calm your nerves.' And Erik began to sing.

'Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall

Ninety nine bottles of beer!

Take one down

And pass it around

Ninety eight bottles of beer on the wall…'

By the time the forty-second bottle of beer rolled around, I had a death wish, so, remembering Erik's threat from earlier, I went up and ripped off his mask. Ew! It was totally gross! I was scared out of my wits. I'd been expecting him to be ugly in a more of a sexy, Gerard Butler kind of way. No such luck"

"AAAAAAAAGGGHHH! My heart is shattering! Oh, I wish I'd never been born!" sobbed Erik/Hollowman.

Christine glanced over her shoulder. "Was that you again, Raoul?"

"Yeah, sorry, um, I accidentally bit my tongue. Please, continue."

"Oh, it was horrible! He looked just like those gossipy ballet girls always said, with no nose, and hardly any hair, and his eyes are like black holes, and he's all bones like a skeleton.

"Then he started crying and screaming. 'Damn, girl, what part of 'hands off my mask' do you not understand! Oh, this is horrible! What woman could love this face?'

'Well, I don't find it particularly attractive,' I confessed, 'but you might try some of those screaming phangirls banging on your door…'

He was too busy bawling to listen, though. "How could you do this to me? Oh, just for that, I'm going to make you listen to the Forbidden Operatic Masterpiece of Doom!' So he sat down at his organ and began to perform it for me.

'This is the song that doesn't end!

Yes, it goes on and on my friend

Some people started singing it not knowing what it was

And they'll continue singing it forever just because

This is the song that doesn't end!

Yes, it goes on and on my friend

Some people started singing it not knowing what it was…'

I screamed in horror. This music really was dangerous. After an hour or two of the Forbidden Operatic Masterpiece of Doom, I was willing to do anything to make him stop, so I went over to him and told him that his gross face wasn't important, and I loved him anyway. He was so happy he spent the next week or two following me around the cellars kissing my shoes.

He seemed so pitiful that I felt guilty for a while. You know, aboutplotting to leave him alone in the basement, to die of heartbreak without so much as a goodbye…but that doesn't matter now. I've got to make a trip down to the mall and see if Victoria's Secret is still open. Maybe I'll go ask Monsieur Moncharmin. He knows the mall like the back of his hand."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, Honeybear." Raoul stood up to leave, but froze in his tracks when he saw a mysterious shadowy figure crossing his path. "Oh my gosh, it's the Phantom! Darn it, where's one of those fire axes when you need them?"

"No, that's not Erik. That's just one of his mysterious, shadow-lurking buddies." She waved. "Hey, Daroga."

The Persian, tottering drunkenly, gave her a friendly smile. "Hey, Chrissy. You missed a swell party the other night. It was great. Quasimodo filled the underground lake with green Jell-o, then we all got drunk and Frankenstein stuffed me into the sofa."

"Sorry, Daroga. I had other plans."

"Your loss. Later!"

Raoul headed home to rest up for the big day. However, as he hopped into bed and set his clock radio for seven, a pair of disembodied eyes appeared gleaming in the darkness outside his window. Luckily, the vicomte had foreseen that there might be trouble, and was well prepared for an attack. He reached into the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a custom-made flaming skull bazooka he had bought himself a few days earlier.

"Heh heh, not so tough now, are you?" He began to fire skull after flaming skull through his window, shattering the pane and setting the curtains on fire in the process. The smoke alarms alerted Count Philippe, and he ran into his brother's room.

"Sport, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm pulverizing the singing skeleton man."

"Oh, God, not another singing skeleton man!"

"No, it's the same one."

"Grrrr! This is a disaster! That Christine Daae's gone and turned you into a raving loon, just like our other brother!"

"Other brother? We don't have any other brother."

"You never met him. He went nuts just like you, so Mom and Dad had to lock him up in the attic for his own safety."

"Well that's not gonna happen to me! I'm getting out of here tomorrow, and Christine and I are going to start a new life shoeing reindeer at the North Pole." Raoul dragged a suitcase out of the closet and began packing

"I thought you were going to build toys."

"That was before I remembered that I spent my entire childhood in military school, and don't even know what a toy is supposed to look like."

The next night, Raoul was sitting in the audience at the opera house watching Christine give her last performance before they skipped the country. Everyone was whispering gossip about the two of them, and Moncharmin and the ballet rats kept passing notes back and forth and giggling.

Christine was giving one hell of a performance, and everything was going great until without warning, the entire Opera House was plunged into darkness.

"DUN! DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN!" A blast of oddly familiar organ music echoed through the theater. Then the lights came back on, and Christine had mysteriously vanished.

Raoul smacked himself in the forehead. "D'oh!"