Chapter One - Marguerite Giry
"Erik. Hey, Erik." The figure jumped and turned to face the screen. He frowned, adjusting his mask.
"Who's there?" he asked in a markedly French accent. "Antoinette, is that you?"
"How did you know my name?" Antoinette's eyes were wide as she pulled off her goggles. "I never even met you before."
"Of course I know you. What game are you playing at, Giry?"
"Maddie," whispered Antoinette. "He thinks I'm Madame Giry."
"I heard that!" Erik cried, whirling around to attempt to find the source of the voice. "Who are you? Where are you?"
"He doesn't look so threatening when he's confused," giggled Madeleine. "Will he try to Punjab the wall?"
"I'm not that stupid!" he insisted.
"Are too, pretty boy," said Antoinette, unimpressed. "I don't even sound like Miranda Richardson."
His brow furrowed. "Where are you?" he repeated.
"I'm talking to you through a nice pretty heap of wires in Non-Fiction."
Now, you see, Earth was divided into two separate realms- Fiction and Non-Fiction. Those in Non-Fiction could visit Fiction and interact with their favorite characters. If you had never seen, say, Michael Crawford in The Phantom of Opera, but you had seen Gerard Butler, you just had to imagine Gerard Butler as the Phantom and his appearance would change for you. If you preferred Emmy Rossum's Christine to Sarah Brightman's, or vice versa, just imagine them in character, and ka-poof! Their appearance changes for you. Although the Non-Fictionians could travel into the land of Fiction, the Fictionians couldn't travel into the land of Non-Fiction, lest they be ambushed by wild fans.
"Oh." He sounded rather uninterested. "What do you want?"
"We- my sister Madeleine and I- are studying Young Adult's Psychology. We have encountered the horrors of phanfiction, and would like to psychoanalyze the entire cast of The Phantom of the Opera. But we don't have parental consent, what with all of the laws restraining minors from Fiction, and I have built a device to safely and untraceably transport you all from Fiction to our home in Non-Fiction."
"Why should I agree to this?"
"We'll eat your head if you don't," said Madeleine cheerfully.
He looked rather alarmed. "Is there, um, anything you need me to do to be psychoanalyzed?"
"Just gather the cast. We have a specific order for you guys. Oh, yeah- bring Firmin, Andre, and Carlotta too. They're on the list as well."
"All right…"
Five agonizing minutes later:
"I'm pressing the button, are you all ready?"
"Yes."
FROOSH.
A huddled group of Fictonians appeared in the rather large home of Antoinette and Madeleine.
"Ee equals ehm-see squared!" Madeleine squealed.
"What?"
"Don't mind her, she's mentally disabled," said Antoinette, not looking up from her Psychology class notes. "All right, Marguerite Giry, please come forwards and enter the psychoanalyz-ation room." She gestured vaguely at a door with her pencil and Meg obediently entered the room.
"Come on, Madeleine, we have work to do."
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"Please, Meg, lie down." Madeleine, suddenly all business, gestured to the stereotypical psychologist's recliner in the center of the room as she shut the door behind them.
The room was painted a soothing baby blue, and the floor was black and white checkered tiles. The recliner was a rather pretty shade of gray, and there were two comfortable armchairs for the sisters.
"All right, Meg," said Antoinette in her no-nonsense voice. "We have here some information from your therapist," she began, tapping a clipboard resting on her lap. "You claim jealousy of Christine, that her story's rapid rise to fame is lowering your self-esteem to the point of an inferiority complex, and you feel like no one is paying attention to you. Your mother has done the best that she can, but you feel like she doesn't empathize with you."
Meg spluttered and squeaked, "What about the Hippocratic Oath?"
"There is no Hippocratic Oath in Fiction, stupid," said Madeleine, rolling her eyes.
"So, Meg… describe these feelings of jealousy towards Christine."
Meg looked hesitant, but began. "In the beginning, it was all right. She was the main character; it was to be expected. She was constantly being plagued by rabid fans, and I was liked by the nerds. It was a blow to my self esteem. But the publicity was rather catching and I started to enjoy whatever attention I got. As Christine's fame grew, I started wishing for a bigger piece of the metaphorical pie."
"You've been working on your vocabulary," Madeleine remarked.
"I would use one of those computer things and search up fan fictions," she rambled. "It was so interesting what people could cook up about me. But there were even more stories about Raoul than me. Seeing as how most of our fans hate him, that lowered my self-esteem even more."
"I see," said Antoinette thoughtfully. "Now, Meg, let's work on your self-esteem."
Madeleine looked up. "Chocolate helps," she supplied cheerfully.
"You have an inferiority complex," continued Antoinette blithely. "You envy Christine and your self-esteem is at an all-time low. How do you think we can change this?"
"Chocolate!" Madeleine repeated.
Meg looked unsure.
"Why don't you make publicity of your own, Meg?" suggested Antoinette. "Who needs Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber when you can make your own fame? Try pursuing your prima ballerina career. Your mother would be very proud."
"That's true," she agreed quietly.
"Maybe even write a book!" said Madeleine. "'An Insider's View of The Phantom of the Opera!' It would be a hit!"
"Do you really think I could?" Meg asked, her eyes shining and the excitement making her seem to glow. "Really?"
"Of course, Meg! Who needs Christine's fame? Gain your independence! Rebel!" Madeleine pounded her knee emphantically, but this turned out to be rather painful. "Ouch," she hissed, then continued. "No, really. I think it'd be a huge success."
Meg's countenance seemed to change in an instant, her whole face alight with happiness. "Wow, thanks, you two! I'm going to get started right away on that book!" She hopped up from her seat, prancing cheerily out of the room. "Now, how would I start it? Um, 'Once upon a time--' No, that's not right. 'It was a dark and stormy night--' No, no... '" Meg rambled on as she left the two sisters. Madeleine was clearly satisfied with herself, wearing an enormous grin. Antoinette, on the other hand, seemed less than pleased.
"'An Insider's View?'" Antoinette growled, her eyes narrowed at her sister.
Madeleine raised her eyebrows, clearly not understanding her sister's aggravation. "What? I was just trying to help! That's what we're here for, isn't it?"
Antoinette rolled her eyes, scribbling something on her clipboard. Without looking up from her notes, she called out, "Next! Signora Giudicelli, please come in."