Disclaimer: I don't own any of the POTO characters but Anna and Brooke are mine.

SimplyElymas: (blushes) thanks! (offers Erik plushie)

Mia26: I am very glad you like it.

Narsil: I'm glad you were so agreeably surprised! I daresay Erik would have appreciated Nessun Dorma but it wasn't written in the 20th century! And WHOO! A fellow Narnian! DECEMBER 9th! LWW is in theatres! Well, well, I keep on discovering your reviews. I adore Star Wars. I have to admit that Luke Skywalker is my first love.

ENTER CHRISTINE

Erik was busily arranging some lush pillows and cushions in the once vacant corner of his room. He had hung a ring of deep purple curtains from the ceiling to enclose the area. To the side lay a mound of the personal possessions that Anna and Brooke had acquired or pulled out of the Bag. The redheaded cousin stomped into the room, in her chemise and drawers, in search of her favorite gown. The whole women wandering around in 1870's underwear thing didn't phase the Phantom anymore.

"What are you doing with our stuff?" she demanded, fists akimbo.

Erik turned guiltily. "I'm expecting a guest tonight…I'll need the Louis-Phillipe room."

"I KNEW it!" She whirled and stomped back down the hall and Erik heard her shout, "Brooke! He's kidnapping Christine Daaé tonight!" Erik followed her into the Louis-Phillipe room where she and Brooke stood shivering in their undergarments.

"I am NOT kidnapping her!" he cried. The girls fixed him with a scathing look.

"I suppose you mailed her an invitation for a nice, quiet celebratory dinner for two in a lovely lakeside cottage," Brooke said.

Erik fingered the hem of his jacket nervously, "Well, not exactly."

"And you're making us sleep all stuffed into a little corner in your room," Anna put in, her eyes indignant and accusing.

Erik put up his hands in a gesture that half-defended, half-appeased, "You'll be comfortable. There are lots of fluffy pillows and the mattresses are new. I had Jules bring them down. And I've put up curtains for privacy."

The girls scowled and pouted. "I guess you'll want us to keep out of the way," Brooke said.

"Well, no…I was hoping you could see to Mademoiselle Daaé's needs…while she's…here." The tall, imposing figure wilted under the burning glares of the two little females. "I'll fetch your favorite gowns," he said, quietly slipping out the door.

-

In the end Erik won out. The girls couldn't ignore the frail gleam of hope in his beautiful blue eyes, even though they knew better. He couldn't get out of taking them to the gala though. From their vantage point in a little room housing the counterweights of the giant chandelier, Anna and Brooke could see everything, while Erik occupied his dark corner of Box Five. The girls wore their jeans and T-shirts under black cloaks for greater mobility should they need to disappear into the shadows as Erik had taught them.

"THAT'S Christine Daaé!" Anna hissed. She had never been so severely disappointed. All that agony for a plain, mousy ninny whose eyes were too big for her head and whose chest was flatter than a billboard. She handed the binoculars over to Brooke with a snort of disgust.

"Hey, I thought we were stuck in the book version!" Brooke exclaimed.

"Yeah?"

"Then why does Christine have brown hair?"

All at once a parchment note fluttered down from somewhere above. Anna caught it in her hand.

Hi there.

"Hey, only the Bag can do that."

I'm the Author! I can do whatever I want! A rumble of thunder was added for effect. Apparently Anna and Brooke were the only ones who heard it. They were subdued.

About this little brunette Christine thing. I happen to be very fond of Leroux's blonde Christine, but since this particular style of PhanPhic seems to call for some Christine-bashing…

"Oh, goodie!"

Ahem. Since this piece seems to be calling for some Christine-bashing, I've decided to use the musical/movie version.

"Aha! Very clever."

By the way that's the Vicomte de Changy down there in Box Three.

"Where? Ugh, that guy with the big nose?"

No, to your right.

"Oh. Wow."

There you go. With that the note burst into flame. Brooke tugged frantically on her cousin's sleeve. "Anna, look! It's Raoul! He's sooooo HOT!"

"Brooke! How can you say that?" Anna gasped. "That's almost blasphemous! We're Erik's companions!"

"Just look for yourself." Brooke shoved the binoculars in her cousin's face. Anna peered through them. She spotted the Vicomte easily. He was a rather thin, sickly-looking boy with luxurious brown hair. His skin was pale and his eyes were bright with harassment. He was watching Christine like a mouse entranced by the swaying of a cobra's hood.

"He looks like he's about to drop dead."

"Oh, I think he looks like Romeo…pinning for his Juliet," Brooke said dreamily.

"Yes, positively tragic. Well, there's the finale. We'd better get back to the house. Before Erik and his…guest arrive. Come on, Brooke!" Anna dragged her cousin into the shadows and through a well-hidden trap door.

-

Brooke was in a terribly foul mood. She punched her pillow viciously and twisted about without ceasing. Anna peered over her shoulder.

"Imagining the pillow is Mademoiselle Daaé?"

"I've decided that she doesn't deserve either one of them!" Brooke snarled violently.

"I never thought of it that way," the other mumbled sleepily.

"Well, now you do!"

-

Erik tiptoed into his room at a very late hour. He locked the door and tore off his mask. His face was ashen and his elegant capable hands trembled uncontrollably. Christine's début as Marguerite had been a smashing triumph, but he wasn't so sure about his success in exposing the lie of her precious Angel of Music.

His thoughts were muddled and he could hardly walk straight, but he didn't neglect to look in on his sisters, tucked away behind the thick purple curtains. Brooke was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Anna was wrapped up in most of the blankets and mumbling something about tacos. He smiled. They really were endearing girls. He leaned over them and gave them each a gentle kiss on their cheeks as he had for months now. Then he retired to his coffin, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his troubled heart.