Okay, what's really strange is that I uploaded and then added my author notes at the bottom. Then somehow I ended up posting One Week here. Sorry.

Gabrina

Rose38

The catwalks were empty, the theater abandoned. Erik furrowed his brow and attempted to recall the day of the week. He was almost certain it was Saturday. Or was it Wednesday? Damn it, there should have been someone to threaten! He clenched his fists and wound his way up and down the narrow walkways. The opera house was a veritable graveyard.

Frustrated, he stalked toward the managers' office and opened a small peephole in the wall only to discover Andre and Firmin embroiled in a tickling match. One of them—for he always had the two of them confused—had a ten franc note pinned to his overcoat. While the two were caught in a fit of laughter, Erik reached through and plucked the franc from the dolt's overcoat, deciding it was a bonus of sorts for his pain and suffering of seeing the two grope one another.

Once he departed and entered the hallway, he saw Raoul lumbering down the hallway and singing, "Oh, what a beautiful mornin', oh what a beautiful day. I got a wonderful feelin', ev'rything's goin' my way."

Naturally he paused when he saw Erik and offered a wave. "You're late."

"Excuse me?" He was irritated that the Vicomte no longer cowered in fear.

"It's noon-forty-five. You're fifteen minutes late for our duel at St. Olga's of Perpetual Longing. Ah, St. Olga's. I always leave there feeling so…refreshed. Those statues, Monsieur. They are good. You should never be late for freely exposed breasts, even if they are made of stone."

"If I'm late then that means you are also fifteen minutes late."

"Correct." He turned around in a full circle. "But I can't find my sword. Or did we decide on pistols?"

He glanced at the sword hanging from the Vicomte's belt and rolled his eyes. "We never decided because I never wrote the note."

"True. Since you weren't the one who wrote the note I bet this really got your goat."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "Why are you rhyming?"

"Is it a crime to sometimes rhyme?"

"It will lead to a crime."

"Oh?"

"My hands around your throat."

Raoul nodded. "Fair enough. So…if Bouquet wrote the note and wanted you in the graveyard for a duel…where do you suppose he is?"

"Most likely the cemetery." Erik turned on his heel and headed toward the stable with Raoul following closely behind, which caused Erik to question him.

"Two heads are better than one, that's what I always say," he answered. "Although Meg begs to differ. She said I've got a more than adequate head. And I dare say she's more than adequate at giving—"

"I want nothing to do with your head."

"Good, because Meg would be jealous. Though she is slightly turned on by the thought of Firmin and Andre engaged in Turkish wrestling."

Erik turned away. "Shall I spell it out for you, you ignorant fool?"

"Isn't ignorant and fool more or less the same thing?"

Erik turned to face him. "Does the word Punjab mean anything to you?"

"Why, yes. I believe it's in India. Have you ever been to India? I've always wanted to travel there.

"Shut up and go away, you irritating twit!"

The Vicomte remained undaunted. He looked past Erik at a white horse casually eating from a feedbag.

"Ah, there he is now, my most favorite gelding. Well, I shall partake on a pleasant ride through Paris and out to the countryside. Good day to you, Monsieur."

With that he took a running start and leapt onto the horse's bare back. The horse whinnied, reared (in a way that made Raoul de Chagny look completely masculine and slightly attractive to Erik's astounded eyes), and galloped onto the city streets.

Grumbling all the way, Erik stepped into the saddle of his favorite black horse and galloped toward the cemetery, even more irritated now that he was traveling behind Raoul toward St. Olga's.

-o-

The carriage circled around the cemetery twice while Christine patiently waited in the back with her now wilting flowers in her lap. She stared longingly through the iron fence, attempting to locate her father's mausoleum but to no avail.

Once again the carriage made a slow turn around the corner, and Christine sat forward.

"May I see Daddy now?"

The driver made no reply. Christine furrowed her brow.

"Excuse me? I'd like to visit Daddy's grave before the sun sets."

"Sit back and be quiet."

Appalled, she stood up and nearly fell from the carriage as one of the wheels hit a rock. Thrust forward, she braced onto the driver's shoulder to keep from tumbling out. He turned to her, grinned, and pulled her into the seat beside him.

"Joseph? What are you doing here?"

"Using you as bait."

Her heart raced, but she used her time on the stage to her advantage and feigned calm. "Bait for what? Surely you don't expect the bones of my dead father to resurrect themselves in a gnarled army of the undead, do you?"

"What? Er, no. You know exactly who I'm waiting for."

"I most certainly do not! I am a soprano, not a genius."

She had him confused, at least temporarily. Her downfall was a triumphant smile.

Bouquet grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her face toward his. "Where is your lover, Christine?"

"I don't have a lover. I…um…love myself."

He looked intrigued, but just as swiftly his anger returned. "You think you're quite clever, don't you? Ah, but you've underestimated me, Christine. Everyone has always underestimated me. Why is that?"

"Because you're a drunk?" she offered.

"Because they see me as a drunk! Ha ha! But I am more than a stagehand. Do you know what else I am?"

"A…um…juggler?"

"No, I am a vengeful entity and a scoundrel."

"I never would have guessed!"

His eyes narrowed. "Don't play coy with me, Miss Daae. The Phantom will come for your corpse just as swiftly as he'd come for his living woman."

"Actually, that's not true. He's really not so enamored with me. It's more my voice, and really there's two dozen other chorus girls he could make his student. Really, I'm just another voice." She laughed humorlessly, fears overtaking her outward cool.

"You've tried my patience. Make your choice."

Her nose wrinkled. "What were my choices again?"

A/N: Why, yes, that was my tip of the hat to Patrick Wilson playing Curly in Oklahoma

I love the musical and I love Patrick Wilson!