Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. I only borrow. I like borrowing. It's like chocolate for my inner kleptomaniac.
Chapter 16: The Effects of Underestimation
For the second time that week Erik was awoken by about 8.7 stones worth of flying authoress landing squarely on his chest. Delighted in the fact that she had succeeded in her task of not only waking the Phantom, but scaring the living daylights out of him, C.C. beamed down at him. "Good morning." she purred.
"No, it's not. Not anymore, anyway." Erik growled as he shoved her out of his coffin.
C.C. was unfazed, having gone through this routine several times with her older brother, and jumped back in the odd bed. She grinned at Erik who only groaned tiredly in response. "Get up!" she ordered playfully.
"Why should I?"
The Authoress sighed in frustration. "Because there are only two reactions to being pounced upon by an attractive female. And because I refuse to raise the rating to M, the first option's out. That only leaves reaction number two, which is you getting out of bed. Death threats are optional, although my brother and cousins insist that they add a rather nice touch."
"Cane infernale!" Erik swore under his breath, shoving the girl off the bed for the second time. C.C. cocked her head and looked at him perplexedly.
"Did you just call me a Hell hound?"
It was Erik's turn to look confounded. "You speak Italian?"
The Authoress smiled wickedly. "Forse o forse no. You underestimate me again, Signore Fantasma. If you keep it up you just may hurt my feelings."
"And that would be such a pity why, exactly?" He growled.
C.C. glared. Suddenly there was a large crashing sound from the front of the lair. Her glare turned into another of her wicked grins at the sound. Erik's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What was that?"
The girl forced her smile into something resembling sweetness and innocence. "Most likely something rare and expensive breaking." Actually, she had nothing to do with the crash and had no idea what had caused it, but the timing had just been too perfect and she couldn't help baiting Erik. He was just so cute when he glowered!
"Alright," she admitted, "I didn't do it. But you might want to go check out which of our fuzzy little darlings knocked something over. I'll drag up a bottle of crazy glue from my room in case we need it."
Erik looked like he was going to question what crazy glue was, exactly, but C.C. preempted the question.
"Don't question the glory that is crazy glue." she instructed. "Simply accept it and bask in the wonder of its existence."
"You really are mad," he answered for lack of a better response. The Authoress shrugged.
"So I've been told."
With an indignant snort, Erik swung his legs over the edge of his strange bed and headed out of the room. It was only after his departure, as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, that he realized he was wearing neither his wig nor his mask.
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"Where exactly are you taking me?" Erik asked for what had to have been the twenty-second time in the past ten minutes. C.C. stopped and glared over her shoulder.
"I didn't tell you the first two dozen times. I'm not going to tell you this time." Grabbing the Phantom's hand she pulled him further along the tunnel they were traveling. "Oh, and by the way," she added brightly, "did you know that the definition of insanity is the repetition of the same act with the expectation of different results."
The Authoress smiled self-satisfactorily as she noted that not once during the rest of their journey did Erik ask where they were going.
However, that didn't mean the trip went smoothly. In retrospect, she would realize that having two stubborn and only partially sane individuals contained in very close quarters could only lead to disaster. Unfortunately, being partially insane had left her tragically with a complete and utter lack of foresight when it came to matters of deciding whether or not something was a good idea.
She did have one thing going for her, though. It was well known in literary circles that it's against the rules of all great stories to have the hero and the beautiful, talented, and amazingly witty, but still perfectly flawed heroine to kill each other until somewhere near the end of the story.
And the story wouldn't be over until the hero and the love of his life got some serious snogging done. After all, what was the point of a tragic and timeless romance if there wasn't snogging?
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"You've gotten lost, haven't you?" Erik asked triumphantly.
"I am NOT lost!" C.C. snapped back. Then after a moment's pause, "I just don't know where we are exactly." Another pause. "But that doesn't mean I'm lost." Erik just leaned against the stone wall with a derisive smile. C.C. gave him a fierce stare.
"Fine, then where are we?"
Erik's smile turned triumphant. "Simple. We're. . ." the smile lessened significantly, "we're. . ." it disappeared completely. "This is impossible I know every inch of this opera house." he finished dumbly.
The Authoress paled. "I was afraid this would happen at some point. I'm surprised it hadn't already." Erik's eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"This. . ." she gestured to the tunnel around them, "is what all great authors fear above all else. It is what happens when they cease to plan what happens and a story develops a life of its own, it turns on its creator and dooms them, forcing them into a situation from which they have no means of escape. This," she paused for dramatic effect, "is a random plot twist."
Erik, who was unaccustomed to being a character in a less than sane young author's writing, looked significantly unimpressed. He failed to see how her nonsensical ranting had anything of importance to do with their situation. Little did he know, her ranting was the only thing that stood between them and being completely destroyed by the randomness of a renegade work of phanphiction.
Five minutes later she led him down yet another unknown tunnel and tried to explain the rules of their new world of traitorous fiction. "Rule number one was stay out of creepy barns, houses, and tunnels, but unfortunately that's not longer an issue. Rule number two: Don't split up. If we do, one or both of us will be eaten by something evil and squishy. Rule number three: Couples always die, so from now on you have stay at at least arms length from me. Rule number four: Beware the scarey background music. That one may be hard because we do have a full orchestra over our head, but we can hope they're performing a comedy at the moment."
"They're performing Othello." Erik cut in.
The Authoress swore violently, their luck just kept getting worse, but they were still safe as long as. . .
"Are you planning to continue your paranoid rant anytime soon?" Erik cut in for the second time. "Because the sooner you continue the sooner it will be over and I will have time to figure out where we are and how to get back to slightly more pleasant surroundings."
"Oh, good." C.C. sighed in relief. "You're skeptical. That's good. The skeptic never dies first and I can't have you dying on me just yet."
Just then Erik, who was slightly more sane than his companion, was struck by a bit of logic. "There's only two of us. Assuming we are going to die, doesn't that mean that you die first?"
That set the Authoress back slightly, but she quickly recovered. "No," she answered quickly, "no one is going to die as long as a phone doesn't. . ." This time she was cut off by the sounding of her Music of the Night ringtone. In the face of the heinous sound, C.C. did what any teenage girl with a knowledge of horror movies would do in her situation: she panicked.
"Flaming hell! I'm gonna die! When to people are trapped in a creepy tunnel and a mobile rings then that means one of them is gonna die and the skeptic never dies first!"
Again Erik looked less than impressed. "When you get done with your hysteria and whatever other nonsense you're going on about, I'll be backtracking my way toward the surface." He stopped for a moment as he was caught with a hint of belated curiosity. "What's a mobile?"
Returning to what senses she had, C.C. reached into the gaping plot hole that had appeared in her pocket and pulled out her cellular phone as it began to ring for the second time. "It's short for mobile phone. Everyone in my time's got one."
"But this isn't your time." Erik countered. "Why is it working now?"
C.C. thought for a moment and then swore for the third time in as many minutes. "I knew I shouldn't have let Lo Whi borrow my DVD box set of Doctor Who!"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Ancient Japanese Jiggery-Pokery!" She shouted, as though that explained everything then went back to panicking.
"I can't answer it because if I do there'll be a creepy voice on the other side or just some heavy breathing but it will turn out that they're calling from just around the bend and they're gonna kill me. I can't not answer if because if I don't it will just keep ringing until it finally drives me insane!"
"Aren't you already insane?" The Phantom asked.
"Yes, but that's not the point!" she shot back.
"Yes, it is the point." he retorted. "If you're already insane then the ringing poses you no harm and that device is no threat."
As his words sunk in C.C. gave a sigh of relief. "You're right. In addition, I can always just do this." Shifting the phone slightly in her hand, C.C. hit the silence button and then grinned victoriously at the silent piece of plastic. "Ha ha," she told it before shoving it back into her pocket. "I win." Smiling brightly she added, "Now all we have to worry about are space aliens, blood thirsty ghosts, ghastly genetic experiments, mad scientists, killer dolls, ancient curses, booby traps, the odd mummy or two, and guys in hockey masks with chainsaws."
Erik snorted. "Oh, is that all?"
"That's about it, yeah."
"Well, then it's a good thing the sceptic never dies first."
C.C. stuck her tongue out at the Phantom before grabbing him by the shirt sleeve and dragging him back the way they had just come.
"Do you have any idea where you're going?" He asked her.
"No."
"Then why are we going this way?"
"Because my intuition says this is the way to go and this is still my story so I'm gonna trust it."
C.C. swore she could almost feel his smirk as she countered with, "Right, because that method has worked so incredibly well so for."
"Oh, shut it," she snapped back. Then under her breath, "I hate backseat tunnel navigators."
They traveled for several minutes in silence. Neither of them were willing to acknowledge that the tunnel seemed to have been growing more eerie and neither wanting to admit their mounting unease or sense of foreboding. In short, the word of the day was denial.
Sadly, as it always does, denial can only lead to pain, heartache, and running for your life.
"Did you just hear something?" C.C. asked suddenly.
"No." Erik answered a little too quickly.
"Good. I didn't either."
You heard that creepy sound. Her mental voice chided her.
'No I didn't.'
Yes, you did. It sounded distinctly like something attempting to slink stealthily up behind you.
"Shut up!" she hissed aloud, startling Erik.
"What?"
"Nothing. I wasn't talking to you."
Erik pondered asking her who she was talking to, but decided somethings were better left unknown.
A few minutes later the two companions heard the strange noise again, this time loud enough that neither could deny its existence.
"What was that?" the Authoress asked in classic horror movie style.
"Probably nothing." Erik answered, his voice distant as he glanced almost nervously behind them. "The building's full of rats and such. Plus we're near the sewers. It could have been anything."
"Yeah, anything." C.C. echoed uneasily.
Just then the worst possible thing that possibly could have happened, happened. Creepy music happened. It was strained and muffled by the sheer volume of stone between them and the source, but its presence was irrefutable. C.C. paled. This could not end well.
The sound was heard again, closer this time and louder. The hiss of movement against rock. A sinister sound that sent shivers up the spine anyone who heard it. C.C. and the Phantom turned in unison towards the sound as the origin rounded the corner of the tunnel to face them.
The Authoress knew there were times to be cool headed and collected and there were times to just stand there and scream like the girl she was. And although it was technically I time for the former, at the sight of the creature in front of her she decided to go with the latter strategy.
"Goblinoid! Goblinoid! I should have known better than to syphon a connection that good! Goblinoid!"
At the curve in the tunnel stood a truly ghastly looking creature with molted grey flesh, bulldog-like face, and wickedly sharp teeth. Hefting a club imbedded deeply with spikes it charged them, growling ferociously.
Without so much as blinking Erik pulled his Punjab lasso seemingly out of nowhere, cast it across the passage with the flick of the wrist, and snapped the creature's neck.
The Authoress stared at the slain beast with bewildered expression. "Well," she mused, "that was anticlimactic." Erik simply glared at her.
"Do you care to tell me exactly what that was and why it was in my opera house?"
C.C. grinned sheepishly. "You know that internet thing I was trying to show you earlier?"
Erik's eyes narrowed. "Yes. What does it have to do with that creature?"
"Well, you see. . ." C.C. stared at the ground for several seconds trying to decide how she would get out of this. Failing to find a way she said in a rush, "I couldn't get an internet connection by myself in this time so I sort of stole someone else's via a wormhole. The only problem was that I wanted a really, really good connection and all the best connections are the ones used by large groups of nerds with no lives who spend all day playing RPGs and despite what they say about women, Hell hath no fury like a nerd robbed of the internet. They must have tried to send some kind of D&D theme virus. Only my little renegade phic made it a little more literal than they intended."
"So you're saying that you're an inept thief who invoked the wrath of individuals who have goblins at their disposal?"
"That's about it, yeah."
"Why exactly did you think that was a good idea?"
"Because I'm deeply stupid and have no foresight." C.C. answered unblinkingly.
The stolidness of her reply set Erik back slightly, but he recovered quickly. Reaching he patted the Authoress gingerly on the shoulder. "At least you admit it. Now, let's find a way out of here."
Despite her initial impulse to glare darkly at the Phantom, C.C. found herself grinning instead, her subconscious figuring if she couldn't stay mad at the masked man it was better not to get mad at him in the first place. "Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, Monsieur."
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Apparently the slaying of the goblin had diffused the phic's desire for insurrection because the trip towards the surface went without incident. They soon reached a passage that Erik recognized. From there it was a cakewalk. Soon after C.C. found a passage that she too recognized and she was able to pick up her plans for the day where they had been left off. Taking Erik by the sleeve once more she led him down a series of tunnels that she had memorized in the days before.
It wasn't long before Erik realized where they were going and began to resist.
"Erik!" C.C. snapped as she tugged roughly on his hand. "Get over yourself and come on! You're just talking. It's not like I'm asking you to propose!"
"No, dammit!" he snapped back. "I've worked too hard at this. I won't let you do this."
"You will let me do this. It's my job. It's what I'm here for."
"Not yet!" Erik seemed to be beginning to panic. "It's too soon for this."
"Yes, yet. Like I said, we're just going to talk. Or, you'll talk, I mediate. You won't even be seen."
"I can't"
"You can."
"Not now."
"Right now."
"I can't go there."
"We're already here."
They had reached their destination. Standing in the tunnel both the Authoress and the Opera Ghost looked a little excited, a little tense, and more than a little scared. They had reached the threshold of their first big step.
"You stay here." C.C. instructed. "I'm going to go through and start up the conversation. You just stay here and. . .be you when the time comes, yeah?"
"What does that mean?" Erik asked, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice and failing miserably.
C.C. smiled. "You'll know when the time comes. Now let me earn my cupid wings, okay Big Guy?"
With that she turned and walked through the pane of glass in front of her, entering the dressing room of the pretty young brunette who sat at a vanity, brushing her curls.
"Hey, Christine!" she called. "Do you have time for a chat with your favourite ghost?"
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A/N: Oh noes! I've turned into one of those flaky authors who disappears and doesn't update for months at a time! Oh, woe is me! Woe is me! . . .Sorry about that, folks. I've been pushing my angst limit on account of the fact that I'm nearing the age where I can no longer claim to be an angsty teenager. I present you with an eight page chapter in hopes earning your forgiveness. Anyway, the rating's been upped to T because it seems that Erik and I can't keep the swearing down. As always, I hope y'all enjoy.
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
S.P.
C.C.: -grins- Now for my favourite part.
Muse!Erik: The part where I ridicule and mock your supposed friends?
C.C.: Not when you put it that way.
Bek: Just want to say thanks for all the support and for taking my muse off my hands for spell a while back.
Muse!Erik: Ah, yes. The trip that involved the younger brother who's skills of annoyance rival my most heinous torture techniques.
C.C.: You're the one who wanted a vacation to another country.
Cassiopeia Lily: -hands the keyboard to Erik, again-
Muse!Erik: Disowning your Erik seems a wise choice, my dear. I simply hope that you have not changed your mind over these past months while my authoress lazed the days away.
C.C.: I was lazing! Remind me again which one of us was working and earning diploma and which one of us was happily snuggling with young girls on the world's largest sunny island.
PMEL:
Pawfoot: Apparently my Erik didn't take well to being threatened.
Muse!Erik: Demands and extortions are not taken to kindly. After all, if everyone started doing it I'd be out of a job.
Darth Gilthoron: Feel free to use the review reply format, but don't bother crediting me because they weren't my idea. I stole the format from another author who had stolen it from someone else. Hugh only knows where the credit truly belongs.
Muse!Erik: It's true. She has a complete lack of originality. Thus the point of my existence.
Just Plain Insane: You're a brave soul to try and befriend my muse. What do you say, Erik?
Muse!Erik: I refuse to use the term "friend" when it comes to anyone who falls under the category of young, hormone driven phan, but I'll allow you to identify yourself as my associate.
C.C.: -eye roll- How big of you, Erik. Associate: the word that makes every girl's heart go pitter pat.
M.T.L.: Your Erik thinks my work is genius? Excuse me while I squee! (SQUEEEEEEEE!) I just wish my muse would think the same.
Muse!Erik: Why should I? I'm your muse, without me there is no writing. You just sit in front of your televison drooling over Hugh, Gerry, and Christopher Eccleston. The time it took to publish this chapter is a case in point.
C.C.: -huffs-
The Sunday Wife: I was tempted to keep Erik for myself in that chapter, but as I've said before, two Eriks madly in love with me is too many.
Muse!Erik: I feel sorry for the poor Erik that's dumb enough to. . .wait a moment.
C.C.: -bats eyelashes-
ghostwritten2:Ghostie! You have officially become the first person to have reviewed every single chapter! I squee in you general direction!
Muse!Erik: A review for every chapter with a day. You either have no life or possess even less sanity then my authoress. Either way I suggest you seek professional help.