A/N: Man, I am on fire! This chapter is part one of two, and I hope that you enjoy. I really am going to write a book on how to ruin Christmas, as I am an expert so watch out for it, because it'll be hitting bookstores soon! Now that's out of the way, our disclaimer will be read by everyone's favourite bitch; Carlotta!

Carlotta: The-a Incredible-a Nameless Wonder-a, Does not-a own the-a Phantom of-a the Opera, so do not-a sue-a!

Me: *slowly claps* ENJOY!

Chapter Fourteen: How to Ruin Christmas

One of these days, I really must write that definitive novel. I've been planning to for some time now, and I don't believe that the topic is quite what you think it is.

Some people have a knack for certain things, my Mom could make a cheese soufflé with her eyes closed and a hand tied behind her back, my Dad, although a horrible human being, could stand on his head for six and a half minutes straight, I clocked him, but me, I always had a special gift when it came to ruining Christmas.

I know, I know, 'plenty of people have this talent' you say, but it was always my thing. One time, a home, I almost burned down the house trying to light the candles on the Christmas tree that we had outside! And in the hospital, back 'home', I accidentally made the paper chain of cute little kids that the children made headless; I never was really good with scissors.

But the Christmas I spent with Erik has got to be the crowning jewel in my sparkling tiara of holiday blunders, and it definitely ranks near the top of experiences I would love to forget ever happened, but I feel it's my duty to tell you, as you were the one who wished to know. Here goes nothing; this will not be easy to say…

It was two days after I had performed surgery on the Opera Ghost, I never imagined I'd be saying those words in the same sentence back home, but there I was, sitting in the lair of the Phantom, just outside the bed room on a comfy red chair.

Monsieur Phantom never woke up after I stitched him up, but I checked on him often to make sure he was still alive. I had feared he was in a coma, but on the first night, I saw him thrashing about from a nightmare. He did not actually wake up, but he did kick me in the shin rather hard. It didn't hurt anymore, and I'd taken to spending my days reading in the chair, casting glances at the door.

It had been three or four days since I had eaten, and hunger had begun to take its toll on me. My stomach no longer grumbled, but it was replaced with a gnawing pain. I did not know for sure if Erik even had any food down here, as he claimed to not eat, but he must've had some somewhere. I put the book down and rose from the seat slowly, walking down the steps and looking around. I crept over to the desk beside the life-scale model of Christine wearing a wedding dress and I hid my shudder, instead giving my full attention to the boxes that were on top.

I opened the first one, pleasantly surprised to find a stash of gold pieces. I looked carefully behind my shoulder, making sure that the sleeping Erik would not spontaneously wake up, and I took a few of them.

Surely you must think me an evil thief, but I assure you I was not. If I found food, I intended to go out into the city and get Erik a Christmas gift, just to make him feel better and if I did not, well, I would have to leave unless it was his intention to have me starve to death, which I would hope was not the case.

I moved to the seconds box after making sure that the first one filled with all those lovely gold pieces was tightly shut, and I opened its lid, a smile coming to my face as I came face-to-face with the comforting sight of the familiar bakery boxes. I lifted one out and opened up the lid, smiling even wider as I took out a small quiche. I ate it in a couple of bites and allowed myself to have another one before digging around and pulling out a second pastry box.

This one held small meringues that were lighter than the fresh air and mist that came up from the lake that I breathed in, and I felt quite full after my makeshift dinner-lunch-thing. I furrowed my brow and put everything back, wondering just how far away Christmas was, and seeing as how I was in the mood, I could sneak off and get Erik a present.

"Well you know, girl, if he wakes up, shit will get real." Sixty told me, appearing from nowhere and sitting down in the chair in front of the little model of the stage, putting her feet up on the desk. I nodded in agreement as Goblin flew in form over the lake.

"I conquer with Miss Seconds." He told me, referencing Sixty's last name, which happened to be Seconds. I know, terribly bizarre, isn't it?

While I knew my friends were right in saying I'd probably pay with my life if Erik caught me leaving, the chance to give him something as a thanks for saving my life was too much of a temptation.

"I'm sorry guys, but I have to do this, I have to say thank you somehow." I told them and Sixty rolled her eyes.

"Can't you just say it?" She asked in a bored voice and I glared at her.

"Hell no! That's not how it's done!" I told her as if it was the most obvious of things and Goblin lifted an owl-eyebrow in a suspicious manner.

"And buying total strangers gifts with their money is 'how it is done' as you so strangely put it?" He asked and I blushed at how stupid it sounded out loud.

"Yeah, yeah it is, deal with it!" I exclaimed, refusing to back down. It was stupid, I knew that, but I wanted to get him something nice, even if it was with his own money.

"Suit yourself, girl." Sixty said before she vanished completely. I looked to Goblin for a reaction of any kind and he shook his head.

"I'll bring flowers to your funeral, you still prefer roses, am I correct?" He asked and I rolled my eyes. He said nothing more, he merely took flight and soared out of the cave. I huffed and flounced out of the little cavern, heading towards the boat.

"I don't need to leave a note." I told myself out loud stupidly. "He'll be sleeping like the dead, until New Year's anyways." I said with as much confidence as I could muster. I grabbed a cape that belonged to Erik that was on the bench of his organ, and I climbed into the boat, ignoring my inner battle about the idiocy and spontaneity of my actions, and pushed off from the shore, never noticing that my previous escape note had fallen from my pocket onto the shore.

It felt so very good to be outside once more, as I had luckily crept into Christine's dressing room while she was practicing for some performance or another. I had run pell-mell out of the lobby and out into the snow, drawing the cape I had taken with me tightly around my shoulders. It was cold out, but so very beautiful. No sun graced the cloudy skies, but cheery Christmas spirit poured out of every well-lit shop window and gleeful passerby.

Children made snow angels in the large drifts of the white, fluffy ice crystals, and rolled up large balls that they stacked on top of each other to make wonderful snow men. It made me smile to see them so happy, and it made me smile even wider to know that I didn't have to hide. No one outside of the Opera house knew me, so I was free to roam as I pleased.

The shops were lined up down the little roads, and were cheerily lit, with not a single door lacking a bright green wreath with a pretty red ribbon. In each of the frosted windows, something beautiful went on inside, and I enjoyed peeking into the tiny little Heavens to see what was going on.

The first one I looked into was in fact the bakery that I had been eating from in the lair. It was owned by a plump, beautiful French lady with long, golden hair that was a few shades darker than mine, and crystal-clear blue eyes. Her cheeks were red and at a stark contrast to my sallow ones and she had a beautiful smile. Inside, it looked quite warm from the fire and the smell of baking bread radiated outside, even through the door. She looked at me expectantly, as if asking me silently to walk right in, but I merely smiled at her and moved on.

I passed beautiful glass shops where the paper-thing wonders were blown from long tubes by handsome men in suspenders. I considered that as a gift for Erik; the glass, I mean, not the hot guys, but it seemed too fragile for someone so… angry and vengeful, to put it bluntly.

I moved onwards and ignored the shops with beautiful hats and dresses in the windows, they wouldn't do, Erik; to my knowledge, was not a cross-dresser. I walked for what felt like hours, and I had a sick, strange feeling in my stomach that filled me with such sadness at the thought of going back to the lair empty-handed.

I was just about to turn around when I spotted a caravan sitting near the end of the last road. I looked at it curiously ad the banner that whipped in the wind on the side read 'Madame Du Boi's Shop of Rarities' in French, and right below it, English.

This intrigued me, for Erik was a rarity and I approached it cautiously. There was no line up outside, which made me happy to not have to wait, and I knocked on the door carefully. It was opened exactly six seconds later by an aging woman with olive skin and smooth black hair. Her teeth here pristine and white, her eyes a dull, chocolate brown, on her ears hung gold hoops and around her shoulders was a colourful shawl. Signs of age were present on her face in wrinkles, but her face lit up in a smile when she saw me.

"Oh my, come in, dearie!" She exclaimed in an accent I could not place. She held the door wider for me and I stepped inside out of the cold.

She was right in saying that her shop sold rarities, for all around me; objects of the oddest shape and size were littered. A large egg covered in scales sat in a glass case with a label that read 'real dragon egg, 400 francs' in French and again, English. I passed it by, as I didn't have enough money for that, and looked around for something else while the woman made casual conversation.

"I am Esmeralda Du Boi, at your service. Is there anything I could help you with?" She asked and I recognized her heavy accent to be Spanish. I shook my head and continued to paw thorough her wares when I finally found something suitable.

There is was, sitting in a drawer looking beautiful and I knew it was the gift for him. I lifted it up by the string and smiled; a tiny crystal chandelier. It was the one piece that Erik was missing from his little model theater, and I knew how much that meant to him. Every single day he would rearrange the little cast of wax dolls, and he would sometimes even play the score to the Opera that he was 'preforming'. A chandelier would be perfect. I looked at the tag and found it to be twenty francs.

Perfect. I thought to myself. I can go back to his lair with ten francs to have left over. I paid for it at the counter and quickly left, my pocket lighter as I ran back to the Opera house, checking to make sure that there wasn't anybody around. By some stroke of luck, Christine wasn't in her dressing room either, making it easy for me to slip through the mirror and head back to the boat.

I knew something wasn't right the second I got close enough to hear the shattering noises. Erik had woken up, and he was angry.