Disclaimer: Don't own POTO…but this retelling is mine (Anna and Brooke and any non-POTO characters are mine) in a way and I would appreciate it if people who plan on posting it else where, would either ask me for permission first and then give me credit! or not do it at all! Thank you!
Okay! Review replies are back by popular demand!
SimplyElymas: See! Great minds think alike!
Nameless Waif: Ha! Your spastic reviews were extremely amusing. I was writing this chapter and watching your reviews pop up in my inbox at the same time. I was like, okay she just finished chapter 28; the next one should be coming in a bit. Twas fun! I am glad you love this story so much though I should feel terrible if it cost you your English final! I hope you did well despite the late night of not-studying.
Solecito: I would beg to differ on the OOCness of Erik's joke on Christine. I find a bit of a snark to begin with and I'm pretty much convinced that it would really piss him off if he saw Christine acting like La Carlotta, so I wouldn't put it past him to mess with her a little bit by way of punishment. However, on the very serious subject of CGI vs. ships on wires: so true. I liked more of the story elements of Episode III, but the effects were like OMGLOOKWHATWECANDO! and like a huge commercial for toys and action figures. So, yeah. Original trilogy is so much better. (huggles cardboard Luke)
tink8812: People do not understand what hard work it is to be in a marching band. I'm glad to find a fellow band nerd! Heehee!
Lady Brandybuck of the Shire: Thank you, darling. BTW this character is so like you it's scary…and convenient.
aragornnme: Power to drunk hobbits! Gotta luv 'em! The blueberries will be making their grand appearance in the next chapter. MWHAHAHA!
LenisVox: I know, I know, but I had to change the lyrics b/c the whole room would have been like WTF if they left Christine's name in there.
ShaShiSar221: Well, here's the answer to the Gerry-Cecily question.
Mongie: Hmm, this phic seems to liven up many classes. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may be the death of half a million report cards. Oh, my.
Pleading Eyes: Yeah! Crumpets! (hugs crumpet and squishes it) Yesh, Christine is stupid. MWHAHA. OOOOOOOOOh I am dying to see the developments between Little Erik and his sire!
Phantress: My mother is making me listen to the soundtrack from Elf, which is a Christmas movie….and it's June. (le sigh) I had to tell someone. I'm glad you liked Raoul's argument with himself, I found the visual and audio image hysterical. Raoul hears voices in his head. HA! I crack myself up. (wipes tears from eyes) Erik: You are so pathetic. / Misty: I know, but you luff me anyway.
Pestiset: Amazing how long it takes to read something isn't it? I do that all the time.
Marianne Brandon: I just watched Sense & Sensibility two times in a row last night. I just ADORE Colonel Brandon. (sigh). Anywho. I did so appreciate your review. The longer the review, the longer the review reply, usually. Wow, I never thought anybody would imagine themselves in Anna or Brooke's place. That's a good sign! The Bag will be making more appearances when they get back to the lair, which will be in chapter 36, I believe. More random chaos will ensue as well.
enigmatic mystery: OMG! Happiness is the Red Death Pen. Thank you. Somehow that makes me feel totally evil. Is that bad?
Sandra: I knew it was gonna be that verb that got me in trouble. I know how to conjugate them in Spanish, but not French. Thank you so much for the correction!
Writer4Him: I am interested in the meaning of your penname. (Anna and Brooke curtsy to reviewer)
Surrender: I was excessively pleased with all of your enthusiasm for the different parts of the story. "Wandering Child" is the best song ever. Gerry sounds so angsty when he sings it. (drool, faint). Welcome to official phangirldom!
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THE GERRY INSTITUTES PLAN B
"Do NOT slouch!" Erik growled. He flattened a palm against the small of Anna's back and forced her sit up, straight and stiff as a flagpole. She momentarily considered slouching more often, but thought the better of it when she heard the aggravation in the Phantom's normally patient tone.
"Now, once again with the scales," he ordered. Anna obediently placed her fingers on the ivory piano keys so that her thumbs met at middle C and began to play a basic scale exercise in C major. Erik kept time with his foot, tapping slowly and with perfect rhythm.
"You're going too fast. Just play quarter notes."
Anna concentrated harder, which, naturally, messed her up even more.
"Stop," Erik sighed. "I believe we need to go back to counting."
Anna huffed in frustration, "But I've learned all of this already, Erik!"
"And you are evidently out of practice! Anna, I am not going to simply pick up where you're well intentioned, but senile music instructor left you at the age of ten. You are starting over!"
The redhead flushed a shade lighter than her hair in shame and embarrassment, knowing she should have behaved more sensibly. Taking piano lessons from Erik was a good deal more grueling than she had anticipated, but she was determined to not disappoint him, even if that meant some serious embarrassment on her part. She sat quietly for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip and staring at the unfinished score for Don Juan Triumphant, which lay on top of the piano.
Erik secretly worried that he had upset her. However, he was not her brother and friend now, he was her teacher for the moment and he would not coddled her wounded pride. But he could respect her thoughtful contemplation, he knew enough about Anna to suspect that she was not being idle or resentful in her thoughts. Finally, the girl stirred and picked up the top sheet of Erik's masterpiece.
"I never thought much of my musical skills, but the ability to read music and play it, however horribly, always made me consider myself bilingual. Music is like its own language, isn't it?" she said shyly.
"It is its own language. By that light, I suppose you are trilingual now."
"Yeah, I finally mastered a second spoken language," Anna laughed lightly. Erik only spoke to the cousins in French now. Of course, they still talked to each other in English. It gave them smug satisfaction that Erik's English was not quite as fluent as their own, though they did have the advantage of being native speakers, plus about one hundred thirty-five years of new vocabulary.
"I'm sorry I complained," Anna said as she put the sheet of music back in its place and resumed her former position at the keys. Erik nodded and began tapping his foot again.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A light tapping at her bedroom window interrupted the incessant scratching of Brooke's drawing pencil. Laying aside her sketchpad, the brunette glided to the window and opened it. There, nestled in the crook of an oak limb, sat Pip and Que.
"Hullo, Miss Brooke!" Que chirped, tipping his newsy cap to the bemused girl.
"Hi…what do you want?"
"Weel, we need ta speck wef Master Gerard, ef ye don' mind," Pip said. Brooke nodded and went to hunt out the Gerry.
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"Gerry, darling, are you decent?" Brooke called as she tiptoed into his bedroom.
"Would it stop you if I wasn't?" a rumbling baritone growl answered.
"No."
"Didn't think so," Gerry said as he crawled out of his favorite chair, dressed in a poet's shirt and black trousers. Brooke looked suitably disappointed.
She jerked her brown head in the direction she had just come from; "There's some hobbits in the oak that wish to speak with you."
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Erik was acutely aware of the girl and the imposter crossing the sitting room behind his back. He had no idea why he was suddenly filled with a terrible need to keep Anna's eyes away from the handsome Phantom. It made his insides curl with disgust whenever he saw that dreadful lusty gaze creep into her eyes and that rivulet of drool snake down her chin. It was extremely annoying.
He bent over Anna's shoulder, pretending to concentrate on her playing. He watched her with an unusual intensity, his whole being waiting for the Gerry to be safely out of sight. The imposter had just reached the bedroom door when Anna's head began to turn in that direction.
Curse it! Erik thought. But to his surprise, her eyes did not pause on Gerry, or show any sign of acknowledgement. Instead the coffee brown orbs continued to travel up, up, up, until they came to rest on Erik. The Opera Ghost blinked in surprise for a moment.
"Erik…" Anna whispered.
"Yes?"
"You're hovering."
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Gerry leaned out the window and poked the sleeping stable hands. Their heavy eyelids pulled open and it took them a while to fully wake. Gerry growled and grumbled at their lethargy. Finally, Pip pulled himself together.
"Well? Did you discover anything about her?" Gerry asked impatiently.
"Yes, she wos talkin' wef Miss Annette en the garden an' Que an' me hid behind the bench an' ov'r 'eard 'em talkin' an—"
Gerry slapped a hand over Pip's mouth. "This phonetic spelling is getting on my nerves," the Phantom snarled; looking heavenwards, he added, "Misty, please?"
A parchment note materialized in his free hand: Sorry, darling, would a flashback scene help?
"It would."
Cue flashback ripple effect!...
Pip and Que jostled for the most comfortable position within the hole in the verbena hedge. This spy work was becoming more and more of chore. They almost wished they were in the stable brushing down Big Nelly. Despite their scooting and hissing, the two women seated on the park bench before them did not seem to be aware of the eavesdroppers.
Cecily Cheney and Annette lounged in the shade of a stunted elm. Annette rattled on and on about her wedding plans: the floral arrangements, the music, the gown…blah, blah, blah. Cecily listened with only half an ear. At last, Annette noticed, with some irritability, that her companion was not showing much interest in the lace and fabric of her wedding gown.
"Cecily, where is your mind today?" Annette snapped.
"Hmm?" Cecily started out of her daydreams and blinked at the slender blonde woman.
"Have you heard a word I've said? What is wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing important. Pray, continue." Cecily's feeble tone and lack of sincerity irked Annette further, but her curiosity was piqued by her friend's secretive behavior.
"No, I shall not speak another syllable until you've told me what is on your mind. Really, Cecily, you may trust me."
The black-haired girl's eyes snapped up to her companion's face, eagerly searching it for reassurance of Annette's friendship. Finally, Cecily was persuaded to divulge her secret longings. Pip and Que perked up to listen.
"It is only that I hate returning to Paris. It is so dull there with all of our social obligations. Dominic and Jacques can do whatever they please because they are men, but someone has to uphold the family dignity, and that someone has been me, ever since the passing of our parents. I wish I could forgo the formalities and obligations and just do…something," Cecily finished with a defeated sigh and drooped her shoulders.
"Something? That is rather vague, my dear," Annette put in.
"I'd like to do something completely and utterly absurd! Something wild and unpredictable!" Cecily spoke with increasing energy and Annette began to lean away from her.
"What on earth are you speaking about?"
"Something that would only happen in a novel...an adventure novel! Something clandestine and…dangerous!"
"Cecily, darling, I think you've been in the sun too long. Perhaps we should retire to the lounge. I'm sure the men are returned from their ride." Annette leapt to her feet and impatiently shifted about until Cecily reluctantly stood to join her. The blonde hurried toward the inn with remarkable speed, but her friend lagged behind.
Pip and Que waited long enough to here Cecily whisper, "I am sure the Mlles. Leroux would understand. They seem to have secrets. I wish I could share in them."…..
Leaning against the window frame, Gerry paused in thoughtful concentration. The stable hands grew bored and began to fall asleep when the Phantom roused himself from his contemplation and dismissed them, before slamming the window shut.
Que shook his ruffled brown head, "Crazy Frenchmen!"
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Gerry skulked into the lounge with panther-like grace. His turquoise eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Cecily Cheney.
"Time for Plan B," he muttered as he glided towards her. The young heiress was reclining in a chair beside the window over looking the seashore. Her coal black hair was only tied back by a lilac ribbon that matched the trim on her periwinkle gown. The lazy droop of the sleeves and lace lent an elegant sadness to the listlessness of her position.
"Good afternoon, Mlle. Cheney."
"EEK!" The girl started at the low, husky voice that severed her daydreams. Whirling about in her seat, Cecily looked up into the half-masked, half-drop-dead-sexy-gorgeous-drool-faint-squee face that belonged to the mysterious M. Gerard. She blinked at him in awe.
"I hope I will not seem too forward, but I was wondering if I might persuade you to accompany me on a short walk about the grounds," Gerry purred silkily.
Everyone in the room turned to stare at the unusual couple. Being female, Cecily was acutely aware of the fact that she was igniting the bitter jealousy of every other woman present. With smug arrogance, she accepted Gerry's offered arm, momentarily losing her cool when she felt the solid muscle beneath the coat and shirt sleeves.
Leaving a wake of excited gossiping, the two swept out of the room and out the front door.
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"Mademoiselle, I hope you will not think me too impertinent, but I must confess that I have something of great importance to communicate to you. Something which will seem completely and utterly absurd," Gerry said as soon they were beyond the hearing of anyone.
Cecily flushed and stammered in reply, "Oh, I'm sure nothing you can say will be too shocking, M. Gerard." She was flustered, to say the least, and her mind took flight on every agreeable fancy.
"Very well. By your leave then, I have a rather awkward and wild proposition to make. But it must be proceeded by a rather long and tragic tale."
Cecily nodded. Her suspense was making her terribly wretched. Gerry motioned to a shaded bench along the lane and they sat as he told her of the sad story of the Phantom of the Opera. At the end of his narrative, he was forced to provide Cecily with his handkerchief for she had burst into tears. Fortunately, for Gerry's plans, Mlle. Cheney turned out to be exactly the sort of person moved to excessive emotion by stories of tragedy and misfortune.
"I-I had not imagined that Mlle. Daaé and the Vicomte de Changy were so mixed up as all that," she managed to choke out.
Gerry nodded solemnly.
"But who was the unfortunate Erik? Is he truly dead?"
Gerry stared at the girl in shock, "Surely you must have guessed it by now, Mlle. Cheney! M. Leroux is Erik!"
Cecily thought about this for a moment. M. Leroux did wear a mask, then again so did M. Gerard.
Cecily glared at the handsome Scot, "Are you sure it is not you yourself?"
"Ah, well, that shall be explained in due course. But that story I told you is only what will happen, if Christine Daaé is allowed to continue with her plans, which are to use Erik's tutoring and clout with the opera managers to gain her own fame and to marry the Vicomte for his money and title."
"How horrid! But what have you to do with any of this and why did you choose to confide in me?"
"Well, this is where things become truly wild and strange, as if Erik's story were not strange enough on its own. You see, I am a sort incarnation of Erik, designed for a retelling of the story. Does that make sense?"
Cecily nodded dumbly. She could have hardly believed any of it had she not been of a disposition that encouraged such outrageous fancies, and had the speaker been anyone other than the silky voiced Phantom. She found herself willing to believe anything he told her.
The Gerry continued, "Anna and Brooke are not what they seem either. They have secrets of their own."
"I thought as much!" Cecily exclaimed. She leaned in eagerly.
"They are, perhaps, the strangest of us all. They are cousins who were transported to Erik's home by an electrical current from their own home in the year 2005 A.D."
"What!"
"Yes, they are time-travelers and are of no relation to Erik whatsoever."
"That is most interesting. So that was why they would not say where they lived in Paris. I imagine they have never been out of the Opera House except to come here. Is it one of them you had in mind to distract Erik from Christine?"
"Yes, but more than distract. I mean for Anna and Erik to be married at some point. They are well suited for one another. Meanwhile, Brooke is intended for the Vicomte."
Cecily nodded her agreement to all of this. She was feeling quite excited. "Then your part in all of this is to play matchmaker then? I must say you have a very peculiar way of going about the business for we have all seen you and the Mlles. Leroux, or whoever they really are, everywhere together and behaving most intimately!"
Gerry smirked, "Yes, Erik needs jealousy to strip the blinders from his eyes. That is the purpose for my conduct."
Cecily giggled knowingly. "What then is your point in telling me?"
Here Gerry turned to clasp Cecily's hands and look most intently into her eyes. If only he had displayed such behavior earlier in their conversation, then Cecily might have felt certain that he meant to make a proposal for an elopement, but no such luck.
"My dear, Mlle. Cheney, I have only a short time left here and I am afraid that despite my efforts, things will return to normal once everyone has returned to Paris and life at the Opera House. That is where you come in."
The girl's grey eyes widen considerably. She could hardly have appeared less shocked than if Gerry had really been making the imagined proposal.
Gerry rushed on, "I am asking you to intervene in the matter. The girls, Anna and Brooke, have become close friends with you and I know that they will be sad to be confined to the cellars and shadows when they return. Of course, they will never admit that to Erik, both of them care too deeply for him to ever think of hurting him.
"Their state of affairs will prevent Brooke from interacting with the Vicomte. You will prove most useful there. If you can endeavor to bring Brooke and Raoul together by any social outings it would help their situation. I am sure he only wants a little encouragement to begin to steer his affections in that more deserving direction."
Cecily blinked, "You want me to play matchmaker for Brooke and the Vicomte?"
"Precisely."
"But how should I go about it without revealing that I know about Erik, the Phantom and their secrets? How shall I even contact them?"
"You will have help. There are people within the Opera House who already know of Erika and would gladly see Christine defeated. I shall provide you with all the necessary information, should you choose to accept this challenge."
Cecily sat in thoughtful silence before venturing a question, "But what of Erik and Anna? Who will help them?"
"I confess that I do not know. If Raoul were to settle on Brooke I cannot say whether or not Christine would then be willing to look past Erik's unfortunate face and marry him instead, as a last resort."
"Do Anna and Brooke know of his deformity?"
"Yes. They look him in the face everyday without batting an eyelash. More than once have I seen Anna gaze at him with the fondest affection."
"How could he not notice it himself?"
Gerry gave a huff of disgust and dropped Cecily's hands in a gesture of frustration, "I do not know. He cannot conceive the idea that any woman could love him of her own accord, without tricks or deceit or force."
"For such an amazing genius, he certainly is narrow-minded," Cecily stated warmly.
"Indeed! Well, Mademoiselle, you have yet to make me an answer. It is entirely your choice. You may say 'yes' or 'no.' I only wished to make sure that someone would be watching over the case in my place." Gerry regarded Cecily with a stern gaze, his turquoise eyes at once grave and pleading.
"What made you choose me?"
"Because you desired the wild and unpredictable. The clandestine and dangerous," his voice dropped low as he threw her own words back at her. Cecily was stunned into silence and stillness. How could he have possibly known those to be her secret desires? She had certainly wished for something like this, but now that she was presented for an opportunity to live as her favorite fictional heroines did, she was not sure if she wanted to accept it.
"And what if I say no? How can you be sure that I will not betray your confidence and turn in the Opera Ghost?" she asked with a mixture of playfulness and seriousness.
Gerry smiled at her thinly veiled threat. "Oh, I have assurances from the powers that be that should you attempt the expose Erik and the girls in any way, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."
Cecily swallowed hard and stowed her pride.
"Well, Mademoiselle? Shall you accept?"
It is all I have ever dreamed of! Why shouldn't I accept? It will hardly matter in any social sense. I have fortune enough to be able to be independent of anyone. What fun! What adventure! Cecily's grey eyes hardened with resolution. Sitting up straight, her face set as grimly as a prisoner awaiting the gallows, she nodded her ascent.
Gerry grinned in satisfaction, "Excellent. Now then…