AN: I know, I know, you're probably freaking out because you thought I had stopped writing this and you just COULDN'T GO ON without reading the rest, right? RIGHT?! Yeah…sorry about that. I was on another vacation. Didn't have time to update and tell everyone. But I wrote in a binder during my trip there so I actually have done a lot of writing—more than what's included in this chapter.

There was a request to see more drunk Erik—though you won't see that again, since it would be a bit redundant, you WILL see something of that nature in this next chapter…not with Erik, though. Oh but if you just love seeing crazy drunken/high Erik, then follow my phantomy twitter account ComplexStalker

Thanks for being patient with me (or impatient, whatever, as long as you're still reading) and I hope you like what I've come up with!

CHAPTER 27

In any other situation, a seven hour flight to New York, along with explaining to Mum why he wasn't coming back to Paisley for an unknown amount of time, would at the very least cause Gerry to have a migraine. Sure, he had a moral obligation to escort a poor, clueless Victorian woman trapped in his teenage coworker's body safely through the modern world. But honestly, he was looking forward to the trip—even if Christine still hadn't even gotten used to women wearing pants (still, she was more compliant about modern clothes than Erik had been with poor Emmy.)

After their goodbyes to the people they were actually fond of, they ran into none other than Miranda. Gerry cut to the chase.

"Why the hell did you lock us in the break room?"

She raised a brow cooly. "Excuse me?"

"Someone trapped us inside the break room all night and you were the one who kept us after hours, so he believes it was your doing," Christine said.

Miranda smiled mysteriously. "Of course it was me, Christine."

The girl's eyes widened and Gerry stammered. "How do you know…"

"The ones who swapped you were becoming bored, so they instructed me to cause some amusement for them—they're watching, you see…" said Miranda, as if it were obvious.

"Who ARE they?!" Gerry demanded. The older woman remained calm as always.

"I am not permitted to tell you. I expect you will find out soon enough," she said before walking past them.

"Wait! Are you really Mrs. Richardson?" Christine asked, following. The woman stopped and turned slowly.

"Of course I am, dear girl," she said sweetly. "Who else would I be?"

With that, she went on her way. Gerry and Christine both figured it would be pointless to ask more.

"Crazy old bint…her and Giry both…" he muttered, then took Christine's arm. "Come on, let's go."

Gerry happened to be well prepared for a panic attack on Christine's part, as he had some powerful mood stabilizers (a formerly depressed man doing an emotionally stressful acting role needs strong stuff, you know.) At first, she seemed only nervous—as usual—with the hustle and bustle of the airport with all it's strange devices and miniature restaurants, but once they boarded the plane, she became genuinely fearful.

"I promise you, flight has been around for like a hundred years now and they take EXTREME precautions. Remember that security check?"Gerry asked, hoping to assure her.

Christine still couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea of a machine seeing through her body via X-ray vision. But that was the least of her worries.

"What if an engine fails? What if the captain passes out? What if we go into the sea? How high are we going to be flying anyway—"

"Christine, just take one of these, you'll feel better," said Gerry finally, giving her a pill discretely. Trusting as always, she took it.

By the time the takeoff began, she was staring out the window with a most peaceful yet exhilarated grin on her face. She looked like a child that had just discovered a candy filled kingdom in her backyard.

"We're flying, Gerry," she giggled cheerfully.

Gerry was reminded of Titanic yet again.

"Have you ever been to America before?" she asked him.

"Many times."

"Is it as wonderful as they say?"

"It's highly overrated. You'll probably love it."

Not taking any offense to this statement, Christine chuckled and asked, "Why is that?"

"Well, everything is much newer, there isn't as much history. Like in Paris, you have things like…er…I don't know, Notre Dame. That's centuries old. And back in London…and Scotland…and all of Europe, it's kind of the same. So the general attitude of Americans is much more ambitious and shallow and flashy and fast paced…"

Christine was back to staring out the window in awe of the clouds. Gerry sighed.

I'll remember to keep my sentences shorter while she's on this stuff.

Pretty soon the stewardess came around offering comforts like pillows or hot towels. Christine seemed so delighted at the prospect of being served like this that Gerry asked for one of the towels, as well as some gin for himself. The middle aged stewardess readily gave him both, leaning over a bit unnecessarily which gave him a rather good view of her cleavage.

"You look familiar…" she said smoothly. "Were you on the tele?"

"Er, a long time ago, yeah. I've been in a few movies, so…"

The woman gasped happily. "Oh I remember you from that Dracula film!"

He smiled a bit sheepishly when several (mostly female) faces turned to stare at him.

"What's your name?" asked the stewardess.

"Gerard. Gerard Butler."

She obviously didn't remember the name so instead she said, "I'd never forget such a handsome face…"

He laughed a bit and shrugged. "Thanks…"

"And who's this?" asked the woman, looking at a beaming Christine.

"This is, uh, Emmy Rossum," said Gerry. The girl shook her head slowly.

"No, I'm…I'm Christine…"

"Er, what she means is that it's her role," Gerry explained quickly, then whispered to the woman, "She's afraid of flying so she's on some meds, don't mind her…"

"Oh, not at all. What film are you two doing?"

"We've just come back from filming The Phantom of the Opera. Movie version of the stage show, you know."

The smile on the woman's face was enough of a sign to indicate her love of the musical, and she probably would have gone on a 'phampage' about it had she not been called out at that moment.

"Oy, I need some vomit bags over here!" snapped someone from the Coach section. With a rushed apology and a last excited smile at Gerry, the stewardess scurried away.

Christine had covered her face with the hot towel, breathing through it and giggling quietly to herself. Only then did Gerry noticed his glass of gin had been drunk.

"Oh God…"

Why didn't the bloody woman say something when I said Christine was on medication? Unless Christine just now gulped it down…hm. Impressive if she did...No, stop. Focus, Gerry! This is really bad!

Within five seconds, Christine was singing.

AN: Sorry it was short, this is all I had time for and the next section was HUGE so…sorry again. I feel terrible, really. But I will make it up to you, I promise!

And since I'm rude and have no social skills, I will ask that you at least check out the twitter account ComplexStalker . I'm pretty sure you'll like it.