PART ONE

Chapter Three

A/N: this one was mostly steve. with a little shoe for good measure…and good grammar. also, our phantom's lair is not exactly the one you see in the movie. because, well, nobody's perfect.

Erik dragged a soaking wet Shoe into the room to see Steve mercilessly slamming her grimy wet fingers/fists down on his organ.

"Get away from that," he growled. Steve looked up at him, a silly grin marring her features.

"But I'm playing. I thought you liked music." Her hand danced over the keys again.

"That's not music, that's PAIN!" Erik released Shoe and lunged at Steve. She squeaked, grabbed some papers from the organ, and ran away. Erik chased after her. Shoe leaned over a dropped sheet on the floor and picked it up.

"'Don Juan Triumphant'. Cool!"

CRASH

THUMP

Shoe looked up and saw that Erik had tripped over, apparently, his own feet as he dove again for the papers in Steve's hand.

"You're getting them all wet!"

Steve jumped on top of a chair and from thence to a table, still holding the manuscript. Erik slowly stood and advanced towards the table, a predatory glint in his eyes. You mess with Don Juan, you mess with the Phantom.

The next few seconds conveniently went in slow motion for Shoe, who watched with horror as the Erik took a running start at the elevated Steve. Steve moved as he did, and tried to run. She must have forgotten that she was standing on a table, because she stepped right off of it, and fell face first onto the floor, manuscript flying.

Now, the one thing that the authoresses must complain about Erik's lair is that it is very…inconvenient, for the lack of a better word. Really, what kind of a person would put a HUGE (and I mean huge) fireplace right next to a table where any innocent person could fall off and drop anything of none to enormous value into the flames?

Seriously. Dude.

But, uh, apparently, the Phantom lacks interior design talent, and must be counseled about his issues.

Back to the story. What do you mean you already know what happens? It's not blatantly obvious, it's very…discreetly placed into the above rant.

FINE, ok, the said above rant may have been a little much, but what the heck, it's not your story.

Read on.

"You…you…" Erik dropped to his knees in front of the flames. "You…you…my…" He blinked a few times. "NOOOOOO!"

Both girls winced at his scream of anguish. The work of his life…gone. No, no, no. Not true. Not possible. Damn, and I was really looking forward to making Carlotta dress like a slut.

He kneeled, watching the disintegrating papers for a few minutes, and forgetting everything until…

"At least they're not wet anymore." Shoe must be standing right behind him, and he jumped five feet in the air. "Here, you still have the first page…" She held it out to him. Erik snatched it out of her hand and stared at it in disbelief. His voice was even as his hands began to shake in anger, "Will you answer my original question? Where. Did. You. Come. From."

Shoe and Steve shrugged in unison. "I dunno," one of them murmured.

Steve suddenly looked up "Whoa! What's that?"

"Or that?" Steve and Shoe started walking off in opposite directions (still dripping wet).

Erik's hands shot out, grabbing the back of their collars. "Aak!"

He growled as he dragged them toward the lake. The two girls flailed as he strode into the water, still pulling them behind him. Upon reaching the entrance, he tossed them out.

"Out, out! OUT!" He pulled the gate down with a passion.

Turning around and wading back, he heard a feeble, "Hey, you're not mad at us are you?"

Erik made it back to his room, pulled off his wet trousers and collapsed once again on his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that his two strange visitors would be gone by the time he woke up.

A/N: heh, heh. Part Two starts with the next chapter