A/N:

C.C.: For those who wanted to know, yes I really do talk like that, half of it's my crazy upbringing, which I might explain in chapter seven, the other half is that I'm just completely sack of hammers.

Muse!Erik: Get to the blackmail!

Muse!Yoda: Yes, yes. Honest you must be.

C.C.: Alright, as my muses command. Gentle Readers, I will not be posting Chapter 6 until I get twenty reviews, at least one of them being an idea. Evil I know, but my brain has gotten very used to lack of use and now is getting very sore from thinking up things to happen in this phic. Besides, I think that four reviews per chapter isn't too much to ask.

Muse!Erik: And if her demands are not met then. . .

C.C.: Hey! Who's do the threatening here!

Muse!Erik: Sorry.

C.C.: Anywho, those are the conditions of the blackmail. As always, I hope yall enjoy.

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Chapter 5: A Haunting Argument via Freddy

C.C. woke the next morning to the smell of victory, that is, strong coffee. Crawling out of the swan bed wearing nothing but a chemise she flounced happily into the main room. Catching sight of her scantily clad form, Erik let out a short gasp and whirled so that his back was firmly towards her.

"Damn you, woman!" he hissed. "Have you no decency?"

"None whatsoever." she stated matter of factly as she picked up the cup of coffee from the table. "And you better get used to it, you're gonna have to help me do up my corset."

"I most certainly will not!" he retorted, still refusing to face her. "I'm sure you can think of some possible way to do it up yourself."

"I could," C.C. answered slyly, "but I won't. I don't like to press the poetic licence too much. It angers my muses who then leave me with no one but Freddy who gives me writer's block, or even worse, forces a plot into my story."

Liar! Again, her mental voice sounded a lot like her mother. You couldn't care less about poetic licence! You just want to be groped by The Phantom of the Opera!

'Uh! 'Snot true!' she thought back angrily. 'You know very well how evil Freddy is. And besides, mild groping is the right of the authoress.'

You're supposed to be setting him up with Christine.

'Yes, but I'm also a phangirl and if I don't create at least minor sexual tension I'll be shot, poisoned, stabbed, or punjabed by the Phangirl Association of London. So if you don't mind!' Her mental voice gave a heavy sigh.

If you must.

'Squeeeeeeeee!"

". . .Freddy?" Erik's voice jerked C.C. out of her intense internal argument.

"Hmm?" She tried, and failed, to keep an embarrassed blush from creeping into her cheeks.

"I asked you who this Freddy was." Erik repeated tiredly. He still hadn't turned to face her.

"Oh! He's an invisible monkey who runs around my flat turning lights on, leaving my shoes where people can trip on them, stuff like that. He can also wreck all sorts of hell on my writing. Anything overly angsty, fluffy, or plot filled is all Freddy."

The explanation was just stupid enough to work. Erik turned around with an almost palpable eye roll. He still refused to look at her, but it was progress. "Well," he sighed in defeat, "I certainly can't leave you at the mercy of an infinitesimal ape."

"Invisible monkey." The Authoress corrected. "Infinitesimal ape is far less humourous and therefore depletes Freddy's potential as future comic relief." Erik gave the air directly behind her a 'don't push it' glare.

"Will you stop with the modest gentleman getup already?" C.C. snapped. It was really starting to annoy her. "You've been watching scantily clad ballerinas prance around in half of this" she gestured at her chemise, "since you were God knows how old. And I don't even want to think about the fact that you have a full length, one way mirror in Christine's dressing room. That, and I know you have to have some kind of peephole in the girls dormitory." Standing up, C.C. stamped her foot indignantly to drive her point home.

Erik's reaction made the young phan's jaw drop. She had been expecting rage, scathing insults, maybe even some running for her life, anything what she saw in front of her. It was so out of character she had the urge to start looking around for squiggly alien body snatchers. Before her Erik, the mighty Opera Ghost, was blushing a deep crimson and smiling like a guilty school boy.

After picking her jaw up off the floor, C.C. rolled her eyes and sighed in a classic I'm-a-disgusted-female-and-want-you-to-know-it look.

Well what did you expect? Her mental voice asked. After all, he is a man.

'Yeah,' she agreed silently, 'men are just dirty little boys with bigger bank accounts.'

With another eye roll the Authoress grabbed Erik by the sleeve and began hauling him towards the back room where she had her clothing stored. "Come on Casanova, I've got to get into my haunting uniform."

Erik stopped dead. "Your what?" he demanded.

"Haunting uniform." she repeated. "I'm going out haunting and will therefore need a good haunting outfit. I'm thinking my wraith costume from a production I did of Darkness with a black corset, torn fishnet stockings, and a red, no, crimson cape."

Despite the length of her rambled explanation, Erik hadn't gotten past the words 'going out haunting'. "I will not have you stomping about the theatre in some silly costume, threatening what it has taken me a lifetime to build." The Phantom stated cooly.

"Uh, hello!" C.C. threw her hands in the air. "Freak blast of radiation, remember? I'm Invisigirl!" To prove her point she vanished in front of him. "How," she whispered in his ear, "can they catch someone they can neither see nor touch?"

"Then why exactly would you need a haunting uniform?" His tone hadn't changed.

She materialized beside him. "Well you don't honestly expect me to stay that way all the time, do you?"

Erik grabbed her by the wrists and fiercely pulled her towards him. "This is my opera house!" he growled. "Everything and everyone in it belongs to me! My orders will be obeyed!"

C.C.'s temper had always gotten her into trouble, then was no different. Erik had pushed her too far. Tearing her arm free she stepped up, closing what little distance there was between them until she was right in his face. "'Belongs to. . .'" she spat, "You know what your problem is? You are an over possessive cad under the impression that you're God! It's no wonder that she left you!"

A look of pure fury crossed Erik's face. For a moment C.C. was certain he was going to hit her. She waited for the blow, but it never came. With a guttural growl Erik took off across the lair and into the boat, pushing himself off with furious strokes.

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Freddy: The angst! Let it ooze! Muhhahaha!

C.C.: Nooooo! Bad monkey! Bad monkey!

She draws a purple light saber and chases Freddy away from the laptop, then settles down to fix the story.

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C.C. watched Erik go until she could no longer make out his shape in the darkness. Wonderful! Her mental voice snapped. Bloody Brilliant!

'Oh hush up!' she snapped back. 'He'll be back. Erik will realize what a grave mistake he's made and limp back with a wounded ego. Either that,' A fiendish smile crossed her face.'or I'll think of a way to vaporize his pants.'

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A/N: There it is! Oh, and the Phangirl Association of London is just me and a bunch of my mates gathering to watch movies, listen to soundtracks, and get in fist fights over whether Michael Crawford of Gerry Butler is a better singer. And if you must know, I've been blaming Freddy the Invisible Monkey for absolutely everything since I was nine-years-old.