Disclaimer: Don't own POTO, never will…(sob)

easternelvenlady: Thank you for your encouragement. It struck me as very thoughtful.

Phantress: There you are, my faithful friend. (hugs) I was typing this very update when I spied a development in my email box. Your note was so inspiring I thought I'd mosey the curser back up here to leave you a note of thanks. (hmm, fluffy Erik equals Gerry; Gerry equals many, many things that should not be mentioned in something that is only rated PG; sniggers and wolf-whistles) BTW way the concept posters are under posters on the little parchment scroll beneath Emmy's picture in the official flash site for the movie.

xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: FINALLY! Contact can be established because my email address is on my profile.

Lady Brandybuck of the Shire: Put that in there just for you, babe.

A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers! Sorry about the shortness of my review replies but my fingers are itching to get to the update! (Which is, of course, beneficial to all of you) I shall be experimenting w/ a romance for Anna and Erik, as well as one between Brooke and Raoul; and Gerry will be making a guest appearance. So keep up the reviews and suggestions!

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SHOPPING SPREE

Erik had had a terrible night of sleep, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. At first he thought it might have been because he had grown so used to sleeping in the coffin, but he scratched that off of his mental list when the bed turned out to be much more comfortable. All at once it had occurred to him that it was the silence that was so unnerving. He missed the sounds of Brooke sawing logs and Anna's incessant mumbling—always about tacos. (He had approached her on this subject once and had only received a confused stare in return, so he'd left it at that).

It was now seven o'clock in the morning and he was still sound asleep, blissfully dreaming of Christine. (The nature of the dreams shall remain undisclosed). Outside his door stood the girls, robed and for once feeling cheerfully awake.

"Should we wake him?" Brooke asked her cousin.

"I've always wanted to wake someone by jumping on their bed," Anna replied, rather evilly.

"Didn't you do that to me once?"

"No, I only kicked you in the back with my knees because in my dream you were a soccer ball."

"Oh, that's right. Well, shall we then? It is the riskiest thing to do, is it not?"

"Most certainly."

""But it is also the more fun thing to do."

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Brooke gathered the train of her Jedi robe into her arms like a superhero preparing to soar to the rescue. "CHARGE!"

Erik never saw the red and brown blurs flying towards him. One moment he was millimeters away from Christine's lips and the next he was the target of a blitzkrieg. The girls landed heavily on his mattress. The Phantom shot nearly five feet into the air before crashing back onto the bed. He almost—almost mind you—screamed like a de Changy with a bad hair day. After recovering from his initial shock, he jerked the covers over his open nightshirt, which had been providing an excellent view of his bare chest.

"What, in-the-name-of-all-that-is-sane-and-rational, are you doing?" he rasped.

"Giving you a wake up call!" Anna said brightly. Erik glanced between her and Brooke, who beamed at him. Something was afoot. They hated early mornings. He'd have better luck waking a grouchy, hibernating bear than disturbing them before eleven.

"Who are you? And what have you down with Anna and Brooke?"

They snickered wickedly.

"Oh, thank heavens. It's still you," Erik said.

"Anyone for breakfast?" Brooke called as she climbed off of the bed to ring for the maid.

"Yeah, I'm famished!" said Anna. The redhead remained sitting on the foot of the bed playing with the comforter. It suddenly dawned on Erik that this was the closet he had ever been to being in bed with a woman. He eyed Anna thoughtfully for a moment before coloring and mentally reproaching himself for thinking so wrongfully.

"Um, should we not repair to the sitting room?" he ventured.

"Oh, no! We're gonna have breakfast in bed," she said.

Brooke returned sometime later, wheeling in a cart piled with covered plates. She parceled out the food. For Erik there were crêpes smothered in boysenberry syrup and a thick cream, an omelet, and ham. Brooke and Anna had omelets, nice, crispy bacon, waffles, and strawberries.

"Wait!" Anna cried, leaping from the bed and dashing to the other bedroom where they had stowed the Bag. She returned with a bottle of purple-hued syrup. Brooke squealed in delight.

"What is it?" Erik asked.

"Huckleberry syrup from my home," Brooke said.

"As in Finn?" he said, making the girls laugh. "I've never had anything flavored with huckleberry before."

"We have huckleberry everything back at home, ice cream, chocolate, even shampoo," Brooke explained.

"Here, Erik, taste some." Anna held out a syrup-covered forefinger to him. Without thinking Erik closed his mouth over it and sucked off the gooey mass. Brooke watched her cousin like a hawk, expecting her to faint. However, Anna maintained her composure…barely. Erik smacked his lips.

"That was heavenly!" he said then realized what he had just done. His cheeks flushed bright red as he concentrated on picking the mushrooms out of his omelet, handing one to each girl in turn. (Anna and Brooke were as bad as hobbits when it came to mushrooms).

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An hour later the girls stood, fully dressed, begging Erik to come shopping with them.

"Please, Erik! You promised!"

"I did not promise anything of the sort, you little liars!"

"But we need your opinion! Please!" They batted their big eyes and pouted. Erik sighed.

"You win."

They squealed in triumph. Erik joined them downstairs fifteen minutes later, dressed in—what else—formal evening clothes.

"Erik, don't you ever get hot wearing nothing but black?" Anna asked. Brooke shot her a surprised glance and the two burst into giggles at the unintended pun. Luckily, Erik had no idea about the dualistic quality of the word "hot."

The other tenants of the inn waved to them in friendly manners as they walked into town. Erik was befuddled, to say the least, at the warm reception of the strange trio.

"Madam de Pouf does herself credit," he muttered suspecting that the good-natured woman's prattling tongue had paved the path for their welcome. But years of living in shadows, fearing the gaze of men had left Erik nervous and tense. A parchment airplane soared into his hands.

Authoress here. Erik, would you PLEASE lighten up? Nothing is going to happen.

"How do you know that?" he asked even though it was a rather stupid question.

Because I have much more exciting things to do than let you get mobbed by angry villagers.

The note burst into flames with faint maniacal chuckle. Somehow, Erik felt worse.

The girls wanted to look at bonnets first, but Erik protested.

"No, no, you must pick out the fabric and designs of your gowns first and then buy to match that."

He directed them to the millinery shop. A little bell tinkled when he opened the door for them. Despite the early hour the store was bustling with activity. The volume of whispers rose sharply at Erik's appearance. The patrons and seamstresses eyed him cautiously at first until a few of the inn residents greeted him and the girls warmly.

"Good day to you," said a tall, elegant woman, the owner of the shop. "I am Madam Trufette. How may I be of service to you…?"

"Leroux," Erik said, his voice purring and sending wonderful shivers down the woman's spine. "My sisters, Mlle. Anna and Mlle. Brooke, are interested in updating their wardrobes for the season."

Madam Trufette made note of the group's already fine apparel and quietly thanked her stars for wealthy, and obviously doting, brothers.

"Of course! Allow me to show you the latest fabrics and designs. Straight from your native Paris, naturally." She swept them to the back of the store, to a quiet fitting room for a private showing of said fabrics and designs. The milliner showered them with an array of materials—from taffeta to silk—and tossed a few design catalogues on to the empty chair beside Erik. She looked ready to launched into a lengthy lecture on the merits of each material when a young apprentice came seeking her assistance. She excused herself, much to the phamily's relief.

"How do you think this becomes me?" Brooke said, holding a bolt of dandelion yellow to her body.

"It doesn't match your skin tone at all," Erik stated matter-of-factly. Brooke looked hurt.

"Here. Powder blues and lavenders and dark greens complement your complexion much better," he said holding the colors to her face. "See they match your eyes and hair as well." He was right (as always). The colors made Brooke's skin glow, although he noted with some guilt that both girls' skin tones had taken on a slight yellow tinge, a natural consequence of living indoors for so long. The girls, of course, had noticed this long ago and were already making plans to sun bathe.

"Me next!" Anna jumped up. Erik chose rose pink, sea green, and royal blue for her. The girls giggled as they unraveled the bolts of materials and wrapped them about their figures. Madam Trufette returned to find them lost amid piles of fabric.

"I take it you have made your selections," she said rather sourly.

"Yes," said Erik. He placed a large order for several day dresses, tea gowns, riding habits, undergarments, formal wear and two ball gowns. Anna and Brooke listened in amazement as he gave excruciatingly detailed descriptions for the ball gowns. He even supplied the girls' measurements. Madam Trufette looked positively scandalized at the thought of a brother knowing such intimate information. She found it suspicious that the gentleman did all the talking, while the young women remained silent. She began to think they were not siblings after all. (What shocking tales would she have to tell.)?

"We will inform you when your purchases arrive, Monsieur Leroux," she said. Erik gave her their room number at the inn and bought some blouses and ready-made skirts. When he paid for the articles with ready money Madam Trufette decided to overlook their previous behavior.

"Oh my goodness! Shawls!" Anna cried. Brooke gave a delighted gasp and they dragged Erik into the next shop. The girls were in love the moment they burst through the door. Finally they would have perfect reason to indulge in their weakness for shawls. They went to town, admiring nearly everything in sight. There were simple shawls trimmed with silk ribbons, elegant ones made of sheer, richly colored materials and elaborately embroidered, others dripped with fringe. (A/N: Why don't we have such good tastes anymore?)

When the girls had made their final selections, Erik moved forward to pay for them, shifting the packages in his arms to reach into his breast pocket. The little, thin-lipped lady making her own purchase gasped in shock at Erik, staring with vulgar disbelief at his mask.

She leaned across the counter to 'whisper' to the clerk, "Best keep an eye on that one. Looks criminal. I've a mind to send for a constable."

Erik stiffened. Anna and Brooke shifted closer to him.

"My word, you are very rude!" came a loud, indignant voice from behind them. The whole group turned to see a pretty blonde young woman standing beside a handsome young man. She glared at the old lady. "Well, what are you staring at? You should be old enough to know that that's rude too!"

The old woman sputtered for moment, then collected her things and hurried out the door.

"Thank you," Anna said quietly to the woman.

"No need to thank me. Those bats from the Le Snob think they're the Beginning and the End of society. Without them none of us would have a clue as to how to live." She snorted derisively.

Erik shuffled uneasily, "But what if she makes good on her threat to call a constable?"

The second parchment note of day made its presence known from Erik's trouser pocket. Anna fished it out and held it open for her phamily to see.

No need to worry about that. She's just been abducted by Martians.

This time the note simply disintegrated quietly. The phamily began to suspect that they weren't dealing with an average human being.

The young man stepped forward, "We're staying at the inn, too. Madam de Pouf said you were a very pleasant party and everybody's been anxious to meet you."

The girls looked up at Erik and squeezed his arms for reassurance. He relaxed and moved to pay for the shawls. The clerk carefully placed the packages atop the bundles that already filled Erik's arms. The Phantom silently thanked God for giving him a good sense of balance.

They left the store accompanied by their new friends whose names were Annette and Max. The young women hurried into the bonnet shop chattering nonstop and cooing over everything in sight. Max tugged on Erik's sleeve, making the packages teetered dangerously.

"May I buy you a drink, Monsieur Leroux?"

"What for?"

Max indicated the happy females with a jerk of his head, "Because it will be at least another hour before they come out of there."

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Erik didn't even bother to let go of umpteen hundred packages he held as he collapsed onto his bed several hours later. He had never been so tired in all his life. Anna and Brooke ran into his room and began toting the packages to their own bedchamber.

"I can't wait to go again tomorrow," Brooke said cheerfully as she detached a hatbox from Erik's elbow. He sat bolt upright, sending brown bundles flying everywhere. He took off his mask to reveal a look of utter horror.

"Again! Why do we need to go again?"

"Because I think we missed some of the other accessory stores. And we need to get you some season appropriate clothing as well. No matter how se—(she caught herself before 'sexy' slipped out) well you look in black evening clothes, Erik, I think you need expand your tastes a little," Brooke explained. Erik blinked at her.

Anna stood with an armful of parcels looking philosophical, "Do you know what I've never understood? Why women would buy dresses that looked like they had been made out of my grandmother's hallway wallpaper."

"What brought that up?" Brooke asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the stuff we sold in the store I worked in back at home."

"Did they know they were buying dresses that looked like they had been made out of your grandmother's hallway wallpaper?"

"No, poor souls. They didn't have a clue." She sighed with great pity and left the room. Brooke followed with the last of the packages. Erik fell back onto his pillows with a loud, wretched groan.

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IMPORTANT A/N: Okay, everybody. Two chapters from now our phamily will find themselves trapped indoors by a terrible thunderstorm (courtesy of yours truly) and I shall be putting Songwind's idea about Erik participating in a Phantom-themed chat room to use. I'll try to get as many cameos in there as possible but I'll need your help.

1) Please specify on your POTO lust object.

2) Make suggestions for specific topics of conversation and add any funny lines that you'd like to see pop up (keeping it PG of course—which I know is hard to do when one is talking about Erik)

3) Let me know what type of personality to give your 'character.'

Thanks everybody!