Disclaimer: Gaston gave Erik life. Susan gave him a history. Andrew gave him the Music of the Night. Now I'm merely stealing him and pumping the story full of as much E/C goodness humanly possible.
Chapter 14: What's In A Name?
"Oh my Hugh! She's so cute!"
Erik jumped, his hands smashing discordantly on the keys of the organ as he was startled by the shrill squealing emanating from the swan bed. Apparently his house guest had found her gift. Moments later C.C. came streaming out of the alcove clutching a mewling ball of apricot and cream fuzz to her chest.
"Isn't she cute?" she demanded, thrusting the flame point siamese at the masked man. "She is so cute! Yes, she is! She's the cutest thing ever! Nothing was ever cuter!"
"Will you please find another adjective?" Erik tried his best to glare, but the ghost of a smile persisted. If he had known that young women reacted this well to small animals he would have tried the manouevre long before then.
"Aw! Is someone jealous of the fluffy widdle kitten?" C.C. teased. "Don't worry! You're cute too!" Erik looked like he was about to growl, which was probably a fair assessment.
"Where'd you get her?" C.C. asked, once again cuddling the kitten against her chest.
"One of the cats that live in the ally near the kitchens had a littler nearly weaned. That one," he indicated at the content looking animal in her arms, "reminded me quite a bit of you."
"How so?" The Authoress asked warily.
Erik held out his hand to reveal a semicircle of needle like punctures. C.C. looked repeatedly between the bite mark and the kitten she was cradling before breaking into a big grin.
"You did that?" she crooned at the baby, causing Erik to scowl deeply. "Yes! You bit that ol' Phantom, didn't you. . .didn't you. . ." she paused, looking to Erik.
"Your cat, you choose." he said simply, understanding her hesitation. The Authoress grinned before returning to her crooning.
"You bit that big ol' Phantom, didn't you, Arabella?"
"Arabella?" he questioned. He reached out to scratch the little animal's head, but quickly pulled his hand back as she swatted at him.
"Arabella." C.C. confirmed. "It's my favourite name. I was saving it for my daughter, but she's just so cute that I couldn't resist."
Erik smiled a bit lopsidedly. "I should have guessed that you would enjoy operas with happier endings."
"On occasion," she answered casually, "but I'm just as likely to go for doom, gloom, and deals with the devil. To be honest, I like the name more than the opera."
He frowned slightly, as though realizing something for the first time. "Speaking of names, you have yet to give me yours."
"Haven't I?" Had she really forgotten?
"No." both the Phantom and her mental voice answered together.
"Pft! Minor detail. Utterly unimportant." she said in a rush, the ceiling to her right becoming suddenly very interesting. Erik stared at her with an expression that seemed a mix of annoyance and amusement.
The Authoress blushed a deep crimson. "It's C.C." she conceded.
Erik arched an eyebrow in her direction. "Is that even a name?"
"Well, you could call me Crystal-Christine if you prefer, but I've sworn to kill anyone other than immediate family who calls me by my full name, so I wouldn't suggest it."
Erik just continued to stare. C.C. found herself blushing deeper and ranting furiously. "My parents were really indecisive. My dad wanted to name me Crystal because it meant "window to God," and my mum wanted to name me after Christine in The Pha. . .never mind. Anyway, my dad also named my half sister Crystal, so I go by either C.C. or Christine, but somehow I doubt that you want more than one Christine running around in your life. Some of my friends and family call me Chris, but mostly it's just C.C.. Which is good because, to tell the truth, "Chris" rather annoys me." She took a deep breath, but continued to blush.
"I just lost most of whatever dignity I might have had, didn't I?" she asked self-consciously at her feet. Erik smirked.
"Just a little."
C.C. sighed and went back to playing with her kitten, attempting to act as if she hadn't just made a complete fool of herself. For once Erik decided not to push the situation even though he clearly had the advantage.
"I'm going out again today." she said finally. Erik's demeanour cooled immediately.
"I should think not."
"Do you honestly think you can stop me? Lesson Two: despite what you think, you don't have control over absolutely everything."
Erik just glared in response. In truth, there wasn't much he could do to keep her from doing anything she set out to do, and it frustrated him to no end. For someone who was used to complete and total control of his environment, it was quite a nasty shock to find himself in a situation where he had no control whatsoever.
"Damn you to hell." he snarled menacingly under his breath.
C.C. seemed rather unfazed. She was a phan, after all, and if there was one thing a phan could handle, it was a moody Phantom. "No thank you. Although, I have heard the weather in Hell's rather nice this time of year."
Erik let out a soft growl and ran a hand over the unmasked side of his face in an exasperated manner. He fought to swallow his growing anger and frustration rather then engage in yet another argument he had no way of winning. Without another word he got to his feet and walked behind the velvet curtain in the back, heading toward his room.
C.C. Simply shook her head and watched him go. "What are we going to do about him?" she asked Arabella who merely yawned in response.
She headed back to what she had deemed her room and began shifting through her closet. She brushed past her collection of period clothing. They were far too cumbersome. She paused a moment on her Haunting Uniform, but decided she wanted something a little more simple for the day's activities. She stared hard at her clothing for a several moments longer before a spectacular idea struck her.
Setting Arabella down, she grabbed a pair of black slacks, a white lacy camisole, a black silk sash, black leather boots, gloves, and her gold mask. She put most of the articles on and then walked towards Erik's room. She looked at the entrance apprehensively for a moment, but then took a deep breath and walked in purposely.
"What are you doing?" he barked at her as she entered.
"Borrowing your clothing."
Erik balked slightly, just noticing that she was hardly more then half dressed, only wearing trousers, boots, and some silky looking thing that mockingly masqueraded as a shirt. He open his mouth to make some sort of retort, but finding no words, quickly closed it again. She kept him guessing, he'd grant her that much.
C.C. walked unabashedly to his wardrobe and pulled out a white poet shirt. It was quite large on her, she noticed as she put it on and tucked it into her slacks, but that only helped to show quick flashes of the lovely camisole that she wore underneath. She tied the sash in her hand around her waist and turned back to the closet. After sorting through several oversized dress cloaks she found a short riding cape with lovely embroidery across the back and tied it around her neck.
Next she wrapped her hair into a loose bun and tied her little carnivalé mask in place. Pulling on her gloves, her eyes scanned the room for her outfit's one missing piece. The Authoress let out a squeal of triumph as she spotted a neglected looking black hat in the corner. Seizing the fedora, she deftly placed it on her head, but being several sizes too big, and it slipped down to cover one eye almost completely.
'Oh, well.' she thought as she spent a moment fighting a losing battle with the brim of the hat. 'I'll just say it added to the effect.'
Smiling brightly she turned to face Erik giving her best impression of the legendary Cape Swish. The effect was lost on Erik as he merely stared suspiciously at her through narrowed eyes. "What exactly are you doing? Do you think to mock me?"
"Haven't you ever heard that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?" she joked. "Anyway, I'm not mocking you. I'm becoming you."
Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"I refer back to Lesson One. Christine can't love a ghost. So we're gonna trade lives in about ten minutes."
Erik seemed to be struggling to make sense on the concept. "How are to exchange lives, exactly?"
"It's easy." she explained. "No one but Madame Giry has ever gotten a good look at you. All that you've ever let them see is a quick flash of a cloak here and there and the occasional fluttering letter. With a little coercion I could easily have all important parties believing the Opera Ghost is a woman in gentlemen's clothing. So from now on I'm gonna be the Phantom and you will be the very much human man who lives within my domain. You get the humanity required to woo your little protege and I get to, well, be the Phantom. You get your dream, and I get mine. It's a win-win situation."
Erik closed his eyes and stood still for a moment while he processed her words. He in no way wanted to give up the title and power he had worked nearly all his life to possess, but, infuriatingly enough, the girl was speaking sense. The thought of becoming a man in Christine's eyes brought a rush of both exhilaration and terror. Did he truly have a chance as nothing but a man?
C.C. took in his silence. She hadn't actually expected a response. At least not a positive one. She knew that it would take time for him to fight a silent battle with an inner demon or two, but time was of the essence and she still hade a thing to do before her meeting with Meg, one of the most important things she would do while she was in this story. She gave him a lopsided smile. "Besides, I'd make a much better ghost than you. You can't walk through walls." With that she turned on he heels and made her way to one of the lair's exits.
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'If I was a naive chorus girl, where would I be?' C.C. though to herself as made her way up from the bowels of the opera house.
Rehearsal? No, it was too late for morning rehearsal and too earlier for afternoon rehearsal.
The dressing room? No, she hadn't made her debut yet and they certainly wouldn't give a private dressing room to a chorus member.
'Let's pray it's the chapel, then. Anywhere else and I won't be able to get her alone.'
Her prayers were answered as she invisibly walked the staircase to the dusty chapel and found the young brunette sitting before the small alter, still in her practice tights. All of a sudden countless Phantom cliches ran through C.C.'s mind. As she stared at Christine a moment longer she finally gave into the draw.
"Christine, Christine. . ." she sang softly.
Her mental voice gave a disgusted snort. Was that really necessary?
'Yes.'
Christine, for her part, started and jumped to her feet. "Who's there?"
Oops! C.C. hadn't actually thought about what she was going to say to Christine once she found her. 'Stupid lack of foresight!' she cursed silently.
"Just a wraith." she improvised.
"Wraith?" the other girl echoed.
"Yes, a wraith. A Spectre, a shade, an apparition," she paused for dramatic effect, "an opera ghost. The Opera Ghost if you want to get specific."
"Please don't jest. The Phantom is just a story. Please, who are you?"
The Authoress snorted indignantly. "You believe whole heartedly in some Angel of Music, but you don't believe in the Phantom?"
All the colour drained from Christine's face. "How do you know about that? Who are you?"
"I just told you who I was and you informed me I don't exist." C.C. mock huffed. "You know, that kind of hurt my feelings. I'm not sure I'm in the sharing mood anymore."
"Then would you please give me leave to pray for my father."
C.C. was taken aback. She never remembered Christine having any backbone. She did a quick inventory of her memory: Christine cowering in her dressing room, Christine cowering in the lair, Christine cowering on the rooftop, cowering at the masquerade, in the chapel. Nope, nowhere had she remembered seeing the fiery girl in front of her. She was quite intrigued, to say the least.
"I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet. You and I have some things to discuss."
"What sort of things?" Christine asked warily.
"Oh, a bit of everything: life, death, the afterlife, angels demons, men. That and I absolutely have to know how you keep your curls so neat looking. I can't get mine to look that nice even with the insane amounts of money I spend on hair products."
"So you're not really a ghost then?"
"What?"
"If you were a spirit you would no longer need to have such vanity."
C.C. stopped dead. Christine was making far more sense than she thought she would. The Authoress needed to change her approach. Well, not that she had much of an approach to begin with.
"Okay," she levelled with her, "I'm not a ghost, per say. I am, however, not exactly your average personage."
"How so?"
"I'll show you," she answered, "but if you so much as think about fainting this will not end well for you." 'Or me.' she thought. The last thing she needed was to have to tell Erik that the love of his life was passed out on the chapel floor and that it was her fault.
"I believe I can manage that." Christine still didn't seem to believe her.
'How on earth did Erik mange this?' C.C. thought
Easy, her mental voice answered he approached her in a time of great need. And he has a very attractive tenor.
Taking a deep breath, C.C. leaned a shoulder against the door frame, trying to look smugly nonchalant. Pasting a smirk on her face, she allowed her self become visible. Christine paled and crossed herself, reflexively taking a step backwards. She had a look dumb shock on her face that C.C. had seen countless times while watching the final verse of Music of the Night on her DVD.
"I told you not to faint!" she snapped at the younger girl.
That seemed to whip Christine out of her stupor. "You truly are the Phantom." she whispered.
"That I am." Then grinning, she spread her arms, and took a deep bow.'As of now.' She added silently.
"But you're a woman." Christine suddenly protested. "The Opera Ghost is supposed to be a gentleman."
C.C. sighed. "Do you honestly think the managers would do as they're told if they thought the orders came from a girl? Christine seemed to ponder this for a moment.
"No, I guess not."
"Then you see my dilemma." Walking over to Christine she placed a gloved hand on her arm and lead her to the window seat. She was quite surprised when Christine didn't flinch as she touched her. Namesake or not, C.C. had never been a big fan of Christine herself, but she was beginning to think that she'd come to like the girl. Setting herself and Christine down on the ledge she continued. "We have a lot to talk about. I'm interested to hear your opinion of a certain mutual friend of ours." Christine look confused.
"You must be mistaken. I'm quite sure I don't know anyone who would interest the Opera Ghost."
C.C. scoffed lightly. "Of course you do. He's tall, smart sounding, has an amazing tenor, and has been known to occasionally go by the name Angel of Music." The Soprano's eyes widened.
"You know my Angel?" she asked almost breathlessly.
"Oh, yes." The new Phantom replied. "In a way, I've known him nearly my entire life."
Christine was flushed with excitement. Never before had she been able to speak with anyone about her Angel. Not only had he forbidden her, but they would have thought her to be insane. Now here she was, sitting with someone with whom she could share her secret, and it was the Phantom of the Opera none the less. She certainly hadn't though her day would be so eventful!
"So," C.C. asked, trying to sound insouciant as she toyed with one of her loose curls falling from beneath her hat, "what exactly do you think of our favourite heavenly being?" Christine's eyes nearly glowed as she began to speak of her secret angel and tutor.
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They had talked for nearly two hours, the new Phantom and the chorus girl. The only thing that connected them was a man in a mask that only one of them had ever seen, but it had been enough for them to sit for hours and talk like old friends.
If C.C. had sensed things right, her job was going to be easier then she thought. Erik had left quite the impression over the years, but then Christine was female and human and C.C. knew first hand that Erik's presence seemed to have quite the impression on anyone who fit those specification.
After all, she mused, it wasn't as though there were hundreds of thousands websites, chat rooms, and forums stuffed full of obsessive phangirls or anything. And it wasn't as if she herself had stood countless times in an ally on West 45th street in New York City in either the freezing cold or scorching heat just to get the chance to squeal loudly as a once masked man came out of the building. Oh no, it wasn't like that at all.
The Authoress smiled to herself as she thought of Erik's future stardom. If only he new. Well, actually it was probably better that he didn't. Even with all of his hidden little inferiority complexes he still had an ego to rival the biggest of the world's stars. The last thing she needed was to add to it by showing him a world were he was the sex god. Though, at the same time it might do him some good.
C.C. laughed out loud as she made her way through the tunnels. Erik thought himself inhuman which simultaneously made him feel powerless and all powerful. He was the only person she had ever met to have and inferiority complex and superiority complex about the same subject. He really was one of a kind.
Still smiling to herself, she continued along the path to the abandoned costume room where she was to meet Meg. This whole thing would work. She still didn't have a plan. She still didn't know what she was going to do about, well any of the story conflicts looming in the not to distant future. And she certainly didn't know exactly what one single girl, far from home, could do to rewrite a story nearly two hundred years in the making. Yet she had a feeling. A feeling that things would work out all right in the end. And it has always been said that a writer should trust their intuitions.
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A/N: Wow! Sixteen reviews in less then twenty-four hours! Here it is, the long awaited arrival of Christine. Sorry if she's kind of out of character. I tried, honest. But, the story is now one step closer to the E/C goodness it was meant to be. Keep reading and reviewing, it keeps me and my muse happy which in returns means more chapter, which hopefully makes all of you happy! As always, I hope y'all enjoy!
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
SP
Affirmed Hope: Phic deprivation? Oh Bek, you poor, unhappy thing! Thanks for the brownies.
Muse!Erik: -leaps back- These are new pants! If you so much as think of melting on them you'd be inviting horrors beyond your comprehension.
C.C.: Don't you mean 'a disaster beyond your imagination'?
Muse!Erik: I do have other threats in my vocabulary! Bloody Andrew Lloyd Webber!
MTL: -huggles Erik protectively- Considering that if I lost either my muse of my story's Phantom, the phic would be over, I don't think a trade would be a good idea.
Muse!Erik: You're correct, MY-Erik. This rat information just might prove quite useful in the future.
C.C.: -panics- I, uh, I don't hate rats! Er, I love the fuzzy balls of flea infested bubonic plague, really!
Muse!Erik: -smirks-
Cassiopeia Lilly: -hands the keyboard over to Erik-
Muse!Erik: You say your Erik refuses to return? A smart decision on his part. However, I just might find it in my self to offer a little consolation. -hands over a set of carefully written directions- I'm in the walk in closet of the basement level. Bring chocolate.
C.C.: For Hugh's sake, Erik! Are you prostituting yourself for chocolate?
Muse!Erik: Um. . .no?
PhantomMiddleEarthLover: Curse Erik for being so dark, sexy, and. . .and. . -forgets what she's saying and starts to drool-
Muse!Erik: Say, what are your feelings on chocolate and walk in closets?
Trier1974: I'm very glad that you liked it. I've had a bunch of people tell me that it was a little over dramatic, but then, this is The Phantom of the Opera we're talking about, right?
Muse!Erik: I am not dramatic! -dramatic cape swish-
Pawfoot: Thanks! He is a helpful little muse, isn't he?
Muse!Erik: -glares- I'm only here because if I refuse my Authoress cuts off my access to her Jaffa Cake stock.
Rezz: Seven reviews in one day! That really made my night! Thank you! -huggles-
Muse!Erik: You do have a life, correct?
C.C.: -hits Erik over the head- Ignore him, Rezz. He's just cranky and bitter because I refuse to let him have complete access to my DVD collection.
Pulsebeat Crow: There's such thing as a cat that doesn't plan my demise. -glances at the siamese sleeping on the desk- She does insist on sleeping on my Phantom shrine and walking across my keyboard and inopportune times, though. -hands Erik basket of muffins- You know, I'm lucky he's fictional, otherwise he might get quite chubby with all this sugar people keep giving him.
Muse!Erik: Hmm, muffins. Many thanks, my dear.
Just Plain Insane: Ranting is perfectly acceptable, you're talking to the queen of long and pointless rants. ;)
Muse!Erik: -jumps back from glomp attempt- Restrain your reviewers, girl!
C.C.: Hmm. . .
Disclaimer: The Authoress is not responsible for any attempts made to glomp, glomph, thud, drool, pet, pat, purr, or squee on an Erik in the commission of this story. Likewise she not responsible for any mental or physical damage done by that Erik to the person attempting such action.
Muse!Erik: -growls-