Out of nowhere the Doctor's face was yanked into the darkness, the lantern clanging to the floor and extinguishing as the rest of his body followed.
"Doctor?!" exclaimed Christine, frantically feeling for the lantern on the floor. She heard his feet skidding in a panic against the floor a few feet away in the dark, grunting and making strange glottal noises that sounded like strangling. From the darkness kindled two lights like a pair of eyes, glowing a malicious yellow as if they belonged to a cave-dwelling dragon. The Phantom of the Opera. She froze in terror, at a complete loss for what to do to postpone her doom. But what of the Doctor? Was his fate just as certain as hers? Her heart plunged through her bowels in fear, but it jumped to her throat at the unexpected reply that followed.
"Christine?"
The crystal clear voice resounded through her mind like a leaf causing ripples in a still pond. Fear of death forgotten with the arrival of her heavenly cavalry, she exploded with the joy of a rescued castaway.
"Angel of Music!"
There came a lull in the struggle. Her Angel of Music had come not only to her rescue, but to her newfound friend's! Inspired to act by his example, she renewed her search for the lantern and happened upon a magnificent stroke of luck. She rose triumphantly, holding the lantern out expectantly, but cursed her ignorance upon recalling that she had no match. What good is a light without something to light it?
Then two inexplicable things happened almost simultaneously. A bead of glowing green light appeared in the darkness before her at about shoulder level, accompanied by a strange whirring sound. As if of its own accord, the lantern in her hands burst alight. The still-life scene it illuminated before her was one of the most confusing she had ever seen.
The Doctor was leaning backwards, being held back by a noose around his neck that had also caught his hand in a painful- and awkward-looking fashion. Hovering over his shoulder was a death's head that justified the rumors, yet it seemed to be attached to a body, which wore a wide black hat and what appeared to be a draping cloak. With his free hand the Doctor was holding up yet another mechanical oddity that looked vaguely like a tool of some sort, aimed at the lantern. And despite the life-and-death squall that she had just heard, neither Phantom nor Doctor was moving. All they did was stare at her. The Angel was silent. Then the Doctor looked down at the strange device on the ground, which had fallen from his hand after it had been caught by the near-fatal rope.
"Christine, would you be a dear and fetch that for me?" he asked with a flopping hand gesture, as naturally as if he had never been the victim of an attempted murder in his life, let alone moments ago.
"Not until you're free," she demanded, a surge of bravery puffing up her chest. Fearlessly she raised her head and looked the dreaded Phantom right in the eye. "Angel, make him let go!"
"Christine, I can explain-" he began, his hesitance surprising Christine. That gentle voice subtly incited its charm, but she angrily shook it off. Her friend was still within the grasp of a malignant ghost, and she would have none of it. Why was her angel dodging around her request?
"I mean it!" she reiterated, adding more flame to her glare. The ghost looked right back, the death's head expressionless and still. Then the Phantom almost seemed to sigh.
As if by magic, the rope disappeared from around the Doctor's neck like a snake slinking into the dark.
Rather than running from his new foe as she expected, the Doctor turned a perplexed expression upon his captor as soon as he'd uprighted himself, in a show of dangerous curiosity that in hindsight was predictable. In half a tick he took in the dark clothing, the supple stance, and above all the ghastly mask. All the Phantom did was raise his eyebrows behind the mask above eyes that no longer burned.
"Interesting," murmured the Doctor to himself. One of the eyebrows went down. The Doctor extended a hand for an unidentifiable purpose, then hesitated for a moment and gave the Phantom another quizzical look. Then he did something rather random and almost disarming-he poked him.
"What are you doing?" inquired the voice that Christine referred to as Angel. The confused and bordering on indignant face the Phantom regarded him with made it clear that he was asking the same question.
"Nothing, just making sure you're real," mused the Doctor, still half to himself as evidenced by the distant look in his eye. However he promptly reverted to the boisterous self that Christine had been acquainted with, clasping his hands together and rubbing them expectantly. "So! You're the Phantom of the Opera, the, ah, 'Opera Ghost,' so to speak. Splendid, I've heard so much about you and I really can't wait to get to know you better, except, well...you don't seem very ghosty to me, eh, Christine?"
"Leave her out of this!" warned Christine's Angel of Music. The Phantom narrowed his eyes at the Doctor, the dangerous golden glow flaring again. The Doctor was not fazed, looking right back into that heat with an unspoken confidence that was almost intimidating.
"Oh, come now, she can at least answer a question!" retorted the Doctor, still not looking away from the Phantom. "Isn't he though, Christine? I can touch him and everything! Of all the ghosts I've met, you're almost...boring."
"I did try to kill you." pointed out the voice.
"What?!" shrieked Christine. The Phantom flinched at her volume as if from a gunshot, wincing as if he'd made a terrible mistake. The Doctor looked slightly puzzled again, finally turning to look at Christine and her shell-shocked countenance.
"Well, of course he did," he confirmed, putting his hands akimbo like a displeased parent. "Isn't it obvious? Goodness me, sometimes I forget how incorrigibly thick you humans are."
The Phantom suddenly looked thoroughly uncomfortable. He looked at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an undeniably human fashion. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked up at Christine and resolved on crossing his arms across his thin chest.
"As I said before, I can explain everything if you'll let me." repeated the voice. Not taking his eyes off her for one moment, the Phantom took a step towards Christine.
"Not until you make him go away!" she demanded again, spooking backwards from him like a horse from a wolf. Her eyes were as wide as twin full moons, her every muscle poised to run. Still expressionless and looking her dead in the eye, the Phantom lifted a hand in entreaty.
"Don't run from me, my child." beseeched the voice. At the subtle tones her heart's pace began to slow, even though the words didn't make sense. Though she was loath to look, her eyes settled on his. They no longer glowed with an evil-in fact, save the uncanny color, they were perfectly human. Or rather imperfectly. There was an emotion brimming in those eyes that she couldn't place. Though calm, her mind was misted. When she recognized this, she snapped to only to discover with a surge of horror that the Phantom was almost close enough to touch her.
"Angel!" she screamed desperately. She frantically told her legs to move, but with a thrill of terror she found that she was paralyzed. She was completely at the mercy of the Phantom of the Opera. He could kill her, or torture her, or do anything his devious mind desired because she was absolutely powerless to stop him. He came ever closer, a pace careful yet deliberate, not looking away from her for the fleetest glance. He was merciless in his silence, as if waiting for her nonpresent Angel of Music to respond, though with a faux politeness because he knew he never would. Not in time. She was certain her doom was imminent, sweeping in on wings of night to tear her soul to pieces and rip the life out of her and feast on her last screams in a finale of greed…
...except he didn't.
"Yes, Christine?"
Now she couldn't have moved if she wanted to. All she had the willpower to do was stand there in utter shock at the flawless synchronization between her Angel's voice and the Phantom's lips. Blinking in dumbstruck stupor, she reobserved her antagonist in a crusade for anything to explain that what she knew was so could not be. The hand reaching out to her had retracted slightly, fingers softening back to humanity's flesh from the ravishing claws she had imagined. The death's-head visage upon a second glance was revealed to be no more than a mask, casting shadows on his own face that were countered only by those eyes. Aglow with something that could have been called life, she was almost even miffed to find that there was no malice within them at all. Only that same strange, sad emotion that felt like an unresolved cadance with accidentals pulling it into minor.
She didn't feel like she had to run anymore.
"Angel?" she whispered. The Phantom smiled and seemed to relax a little, but that feeling in his night eyes only intensified.
"Yes," he replied breathlessly. Her eyelids fluttered at that voice, trying to stay aware in the moment despite its soothing. "Yes, Christine, that's it, I am your angel."
"Well, which is it?" demanded the Doctor, coming up between them with a look on his face that made it clear he was either completely confused or regarding them both as idiots. "Are you the Phantom of the Opera, or the Angel of Music?"
"Both," he responded cryptically, quite affable towards him despite having tried to kill him only moments earlier. "To most people, you included until further notice, I am the mysterious Phantom of the Opera. But to Christine, I am an Angel of Music, her teacher and general guardian. Quite the same way you are, aren't you, Doctor?"
Christine's befuddled face switched back and forth from the dangerously intent Phantom to the pleasantly surprised Doctor.
"So you know me!" he said cheerfully. The Phantom's face did not change. "Splendid, except of course for the fact that that means-"
"-our timelines have crossed rather awkwardly," finished the Phantom for him, one eyebrow twitching up. Now it was the Doctor's turn to be confused. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, even humany-wumany if it comes to that. Yes, I have met you before, but evidently you have never met me."
"What?" muttered Christine to herself. For now both geniuses decided to ignore her confusion, enveloped in their baffling conversation.
"Exactly how much did I tell you?" queried the Doctor. The Phantom even went so far as to smirk.
"I can't rightly tell you that either, can I?" he returned, as if the Doctor should know better.
"Yes, of course, but you seem rather informed."
"I know enough, can't we leave it at that?"
"What? Don't you enjoy it? Surely you don't get a chance to banter very often, your girlfriend's not much use for it, I tried already."
"Girlfriend?" she echoed again. The Phantom thanked his lucky stars his blush was concealed by the mask.
"Forgive me, that's not my reason," he apologized, effectively changing the subject before Christine got it in her to inquire further with her accursed curiosity. "It's simply that whenever you turn up, there's a reason, and undoubtedly a decidedly important one. Shortly put, you have work to do."
"Oh, you really do know me, don't you, you clever boy, you!" praised the Doctor, clapping the Phantom on the back. The Phantom's eyebrows lowered at being called a boy when the Doctor didn't appear much older than Christine. "Pay attention, Christine, this is obviously a seasoned companion, even though that hasn't happened yet for me, which will all be explained as soon as we escape from mortal danger!"
"What danger?" asked Christine suspiciously. The Phantom moved behind her, and ever so slightly closer.
"Oh, I don't know for sure," recanted the Doctor, shrugging unhelpfully. Christine's frustration folded her arms for her. "except for the fact that your Angel's right in the sense that I tend to pop up whenever danger does, sort of like bees, but the opposite. Which is why I have this!"
With that he reached down and picked up that incredible contraption, holding it up triumphantly like the fist of a winning boxer.
"I still don't know what that is," prompted Christine, raising one eyebrow and flattening the other. The Phantom narrowed his eyes as they roved over it, like a seventh grader trying to grasp its first calculus. Commendable for at least attempting to understand, but the only A he could receive would be for effort.
"Thank you for not strangling me this time, Phantom, I appreciate it greatly," he thanked first, before continuing his ramble. "As I was about to explain before I almost died, this nameless doohickey with which you are all fascinated is very vital in the sense that it detects and homes in on nonindigenous bodies of complex carbon structures of considerable size and/or density."
"I should've known you were a scientist," sighed Christine, shaking her head and rubbing her forehead. The Phantom shrank a little as he thought of his own scientific fascinations, but nonetheless decided to put away his shame for the sake of his own pride.
"It detects aliens?" he ventured. Christine narrowed her eyes, yet almost on the brink of making sense of something about this maniacal adventure she had found herself in. The Doctor gave a terrifying grin, eyes pulsing with a light of their own, one that stirred the blood and awakened the senses like a forte-piano crescendo.
"You betcha."