Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Wicked.

Remember: Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, and nothing matters but knowing nothing matters.

Chapter VI – Defying Gravity

Erik stared at the Vicomte. Rage like he'd never known before was coursing through his veins, threatening to dismantle him from the inside out.

"And I thought you could sink no lower," he ground out.

"We all make that assumption of one another sometimes," said Raoul, lightly tracing the blade up the side of Elphaba's neck. It drew a thin line of blood, and Erik could barely control himself.

Elphie saw the weakness in his eyes. "Erik, no! You can't do it! Please… you've done so much for me already."

Raoul's eyes flickered in comprehension. "So," he spat, "your concern for Christine has evaporated? I always knew you would never care for her as I do."

Erik was shaking with fury. With a deft flick of his wrist, the Punjab lasso appeared, coiled in his hand like a cobra poised to strike.

Raoul pressed the dagger harder against Elphaba's throat and she gasped in pain. "Drop it, Erik!" he shouted.

Elphie looked at him imploringly, willing him to listen. Erik nodded, defeat plain in his eyes, and threw the lasso to the floor. He had never felt so powerless.

"How does it feel?" Raoul taunted. "How does it feel to know that your enemy holds all the cards and there's nothing you can do? Don't answer; I've felt it too. That last night in your dungeon, I've never felt more helpless in my life. But you were weak then, and you're weak now."

Erik shot a glance at Elphaba and caught the glitter in her eyes. He turned his burning gaze on Raoul again as her hand drifted smoothly to her pocket.

"You're wrong," he growled. "I'm stronger than ever, but you're just as weak."

An enormous cloud of black smoke engulfed the room at his last words. He reached down and snatched the lasso, and was tempted to break the Vicomte's neck here and now. Elphie tugged at his cloak before the plan was set in motion, and they fled the room.

They escaped down the hall and shoved past Tristan, making straight for the door. A gunshot sounded from behind, and Erik wheeled to see the servant aiming a pistol at his back.

The lasso was no use; it wouldn't be long enough to achieve its purpose. He took out a silver dagger in its place. Throwing it tomahawk-style, he put it through the man's chest before any of them could blink.

He and Elphaba raced through the door as Tristan slumped against the wall, blood flowing freely from the wound.

Erik led her around to the side of the house, obstructed by shrubbery.

"Now we need to get out of here," he growled. "The police will be swarming soon, so we need to spend the night somewhere besides my lair."

Elphie nodded, thinking. Suddenly she spun in a circle, her cloak swirling so quickly she almost looked like a tornado.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nonplussed.

She kept spinning, faster and faster until she was a dark blur, then came to a halt just as suddenly. Except now, she held a broomstick.

Erik snorted. "What, pray tell, are you going to do with that?"

Elphie grinned at him. "I call it defying gravity."

He watched as she sat sideways on the handle and rose into the air. "It flies?"

"Of course," she laughed, coming back down. "Now come on, let's get out of here!"

Erik swallowed, then mounted behind her.