There was music in the darkness. It was decidedly strange. "You have got to be kidding me…" Phantom muttered, unless he simply thought it. He had known that the Opera Ghost was a little loony; most ghosts were. But…

Intermission?

He looked around as everything faded back in. The chandelier was gone. The actors were gone. The audience was still there, but they were very faded. Their eyes were closed, as though they were asleep.

Of course, they were asleep until they were needed again. Even they were nothing but puppets in this play. He could hear singing out in the "foyer" and didn't investigate. He knew the song, anyway, having heard it enough times from…

He growled in frustration as the only name willing to spring to mind was "Christine." "That's not right!" he exclaimed. "That's not her name. And I'm-" He broke off and smiled slightly.

Names…That's how he controlled them. A simple suggestion that conveyed so much, especially when the name already had a certain identity attached. The Opera Ghost called her Christine; that's who she became.

"But what does that make me?" he wondered aloud. His name was Phantom, as well.

Or was it? He hadn't actually been given a name. He had simply picked one that sounded right. He had no idea if it was his real name or not, but maybe that didn't matter. He awkwardly invoked his ghost powers to drift over the audience and back to the people he had recognized as being family. "Can you hear me?" he asked quietly, expecting no response. He searched their faces, trying to dredge up anything he knew.

"Sam," he whispered happily, eye landing on his goth friend. Memories of much happier times flooded his mind, but before he could remember the others, that nagging feeling came back. It had warned him about the chandelier, and he wasn't inclined to ignore it now. Some part of him knew what was about to happen. With a reluctant glance at his friends and family, he flew over the rest of the audience and slammed into the far wall, where he bounced back and fell to the ground, rubbing his nose painfully. The walls were becoming more real to him…he shoved that away for future reference and went intangible.

The Opera Ghost strutted down a set of stairs that wasn't really there; it gave him a headache to watch. He looked out over the assembled actors and was met by a sea of confusion and fear that remained unhidden by ethereal masks. They swam around his vision like the audience had, trying to look like more people than were actually there.

It was the scene where the Phantom gave the cast his opera. He sang the instructions, a fact that was quickly wearing thin to the boy's mind. He was in the process of trying to remember how his ectoplasmic energy blast worked when his enemy got to her.

Kat's eyes sparked and shifted colors, though no one else seemed to notice. She was becoming faded as the strain of being human-

Wait. He closed his eyes, trying in vain to recapture the name, but it was gone. He angrily shoved the thought away in favor of the current events. Any second, a hole should open in the floor, and Raoul would chase the Phantom through it. If he recalled correctly, there was some controversy over whether or not it should be done like that, so he had no idea that it would until it did.

As soon as his quarry's attention was elsewhere, everyone started to mill aimlessly about with somewhat blank expressions. The crowd stopped making his eyes water and began reverting to their more usual roles as ballerinas and stage hands. Christine, clearly upset, followed Meg back to her dressing room. Once again, he followed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Meg left and he poked his head inside to see Christine in tears. "Angel of music," she whispered, sniffling. "Friend or Phantom…Oh, father, why did you leave me?"

Phantom opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sigh. Even assuming she could have heard him, he didn't want to call her Christine. On the other hand, he needed to talk to someone, and she had almost seemed to hear him earlier. After…

He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and walked through her. Even prepared for the shock, it made him jump. He turned just in time to see her head snap straight up. She froze, hardly daring to breath, and turned slowly. After a few moments staring at each other, she said, "You're not really there."

"You can see me?" Phantom asked excitedly.

She shook her head and turned back around. "I see nothing."

"And you can hear me, too!"

The girl clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head again. "Leave me alone! Who are you?"

"Kat, listen to-" They both froze then. Phantom rubbed his eyes to ward off the headache brought on by sudden memory, then grinned.

Kat closed her eyes, then faded the rest of the way, allowing the hated costume to fall. When she reappeared, it was in jeans and a t-shirt with eyes that blazed an angry red. "I'm going to kill him," she all but growled.

"You can't!" Phantom argued. "He's still possessing…ugh, do you remember his name?"

She seemed about to speak, then stopped. "Actually, I don't even remember yours."

"Yeah, I'm having that problem myself. Listen, why don't you just pretend your still under his spell for a little while? I need to see who else I can wake up."

Kat shimmered a bit and reformed in a mock-up of her costume. "Fine, but I refuse to be tangible. I've had enough of solidity."

"Trade you," Phantom laughed. He phased through the wall without explaining and went back to the auditorium. The illusion was almost completely gone; he could see the sleepers without even squinting. "Sam?" he said hesitantly. No response. "Sam, come on. I know you can hear me. Just open your eyes."

Kat had seen him, but walking through her had shocked her as it had him. Since Christine couldn't possibly have electric ghost powers, it had been enough to wake her somewhat. After a moment's thought and some deliberation over the fairy tale Sleeping Beauty, he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear.

"Listen to me," he said quietly. "Your name is Samantha Manson. You and Tucker are my best friends…" He trailed off as memories returned in response to the identity. "Come on, guys! Wake up!"

"They won't awaken!" said a voice from behind him. Phantom whirled around, but he was too slow. The Opera Ghost's noose was already around his neck. "Why don't you just die?"

The boy struggled against his oppressor, trying to get his fingers between the rope and his throat. He had just started to see spots when he remembered that he could go intangible and mentally kicked himself. Free again, he swung a leg at his opponent, who ducked. "I'm not going to let you do this!" he exclaimed.

The masked figure sneered. "How do you plan to stop when you don't even exist?"

"If I don't exist, why are you so worried?"

He must have struck a nerve. With an animalistic snarl, the Opera Ghost lunged for him. Something started to cut off his air, and he saw the noose glow with ectoplasmic energy. He couldn't phase through it, but he did manage to get his fingers under it. He fought the restraining bonds for what seemed like an eternity and thought he would lose again.

Suddenly, the Opera Ghost cursed colorfully and vanished, leaving the ghost boy gasping for air. "Miss…your cue?" he tried to joke. It didn't work very well. The confrontation taught him one thing, at least.

If he was going to wake anyone else out of this, he needed to remember who he was.

A/N: So how's it so far? Anyone confused yet? Seriously, please tell me in minute detail what confuses you and why. I want to be sure I don't miss explaining anything. I know this one is kind of hard to follow because it takes place from the point of view of Danny thinking. I wanted a slightly different, more artistic approach for this one because of its subject matter, and, while I think it's perfect, I'm not sure how well its going from anyone else's point of view.