Chapter 3

"My name ..is Erik."

The Doctor gasped, and almost fell backwards onto the floor. "No," he murmured. "Impossible."

Rose laughed. "My dear Doctor, I'm afraid many things you have deemed impossible have turned out to be true."

Still he stood there, his eyes fixed on the man before him, frozen in place. Slowly, he stepped a few paces backwards and gestured for Rose to follow him.

"Rose," he whispered. "Have you ever heard of the story.. of the Opera Ghost?"

She paused. "I've heard of it," she whispered back. "But I don't know how it goes. What does it have anything to do with –" She suddenly glanced around at the strange man in the cloak.

"Oh." She frowned. "You think he's the Opera Ghost?"

The Doctor nodded. "Same name and everything."

"So.. What do you wanna do?"

A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Go with the flow, Rose." He turned around and began to address the Ghost.

"Monsieur le Fantome," he started. The man tilted his head in confusion. "Oh, don't give me that look. I know very well who you are."

The Ghost growled. "Who sent you? The Daroga? Oh, I'll kill that man, that blasted booby."

The Doctor chuckled. "No, he did not send me." He paused. "Tell me, do you know of a singer named Christine Daae?"

He did not reply, and merely sat there, determined not to answer him.

"I see you're the booby here right now. Let me rephrase, what have you done with Christine Daae?"

The Ghost snarled in anger. "What do you mean, what have I done with her? I am merely teaching her to sing! She's the world's greatest hidden gem! With my training, she will reach the stars!"

"And you suppose pretending to be a spirit will help her with that?" the Doctor said quietly.

He did not get a response.

"When is Hannibal scheduled to play?"

"Rehearsals are not to start for another few days. The opera has not even been announced to the cast members! How – how did you –" He let out a huff of air. "Ah, you are good, Monsieur. Perhaps even a worthy opponent to Erik."

The Doctor frowned. "We shall see." He stepped over to the other side of the console. Rose followed him.

"What was that all about?" she whispered harshly.

"Oh, don't get worked up, Rose," he answered. "Just establishing my relative timeline."

"English, please."

He sighed. "I've read the book: I know the story. I just wanted to see how far along we are in it."

"I see."

He didn't say anything more, and began fiddling with the controls in an attempt to reboot the TARDIS. Nothing happened. Obviously annoyed, the Doctor jerked open one of the hatches and pulled out what appeared to be an old 18th century lamp. He hung it above them and cranked it up to full power. Light shone upon the three of them and for the first time, Rose could get a good look at their captive.

He was tall and lanky, as she had previously noted in the tunnel. He was wearing a long black cloak with a hood that cast most of his face in shadow. He was wearing strangely formal attire: dark gray slacks and a black dress shirt, complete with a similarly coloured vest and tie. Rose slowly raised her eyes to below his cloak, somehow fearing what might be under it. And then she saw it: white. A white face mask. She covered her mouth to refrain from gasping.

Little did she know, the Ghost was looking her over in the same way she did him.

"Mlle. Giry?"

Rose frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Marguerite Giry, you horrid dancing brat! You planned this all along, didn't you, you and your filthy ballet rat friends! How dare you even –"

"Don't you speak another word against her!" the Doctor yelled, suddenly becoming very defensive of his companion. "First of all, you will refrain from using any filthy language around us, do you understand?" The Ghost did nothing for a few seconds, before nodding slowly. "Secondly, she is not Meg Giry. Her name is Rose."

"Hey, I can speak for myself, you know," she muttered.

"My name is Rose Tyler, it is certainly not Marguerite. That's really old-fashioned," she said loudly. "But then again, we are in 19th century France."

"Don't you know your own ballet troupe?" the Doctor interrupted.

"Of course I do!" he snapped. "And I'm telling you, she looks exactly like the Giry girl."

The Doctor turned to Rose and stared at her for a few seconds before turning back to the Ghost. He motioned around his head where hair would usually hang on a woman. "But Meg has blond – blonder hair.. Very blond..."

"Not in my books, Monsieur." He grunted. "You know Erik's name, Erik does not know yours. He demands to know."

"Stop talking in third person, act like a normal human being, and maybe you'll know," Rose but in.

"Act like a normal human being," the Ghost repeated. "How Erik wishes this to be so."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well, call him the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Exactly," answered the Doctor.

They all sat in silence for a few seconds, the Ghost obviously thinking hard to try to understand this.

"I suppose we'll have to release you," the Doctor said finally. Rose gave him a worried look, but said nothing. "On a few conditions, though."

"Name them."

"You'll have to promise me you won't try to attack either of us, ever again."

"I give you my word of honor."

"Next, you'll show us how to get up to the theatre. A clear, trap-free passageway that we can navigate ourselves."

"Consider it done."

"And no talking in third person," Rose chimed in.

"Fine," Erik spat, albeit after a pause.

"Well then, Opera Ghost," the Doctor said, with a twinkle in his eye, "you've just earned yourself a release."

[Not too much going on in this chapter.. But I have some action planned for the next one, don't you worry! As usual, I own nothing. Though I'd very much like to.]