Friend or Father??

A/N: This is just a plot bunny that I couldn't get rid of. I'd rather someone else wrote it, but that hasn't worked out. So I wrote this, and while it hasn't turned out quite the way I wanted, I thought I'd post it and see if anyone else is amused or, better yet, inspired. I just really don't like movie!christine, and I think it's way more amusing if they both ditch her. And if they happen to end up together, so be it.

“Angel or father, friend or phantom, who is it there staring?”

Erik heard the words, and responded to them automatically. “Have you forgotten your angel?” But in spite of himself, he began to be worried. Father? He thought as she continued to sing. She still thinks I’m the spirit of her father?

“Angel, oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper.” He soon forgot his worry as her voice rang out in the cold.

“Too long you’ve wandered in winter,” his voice echoed in the graveyard, “far from my far roaming gaze.”

“Wildly my mind beats against you.”

“You resist,”

“Yet the soul obeys.” Their voices joined together in a moment of bliss. He continued singing, “Angel of music you denied me, turning from true beauty.
Angel of music, do not shun me. Come to your strange angel.” Her words echoed his as they continued their duet.

“I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music,” he sang as her eyes grew wide. She moved towards the tomb of her father.

“No! Christine, wait!” The handsome viscomte screamed as he rode in on a white steed. “Wait!”

“Raoul!” Christine turned to face her fiancé, who grabbed her arm.

“Whatever you believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!” Christine screamed as Erik jumped down from the roof of the tomb. Raoul had his sword ready, and the two immediately began attacking each other. Christine watched in shock as the two battled, following them around the graveyard. She didn’t know what to think, she didn’t know who she wanted to win.

Raoul began to wonder what he was fighting for. Something was clearly wrong with Christine, could their love overcome it? Was it even love that he felt for her?

Erik was wondering what he was fighting for as well. He wasn’t sure what he would do with Christine if he had her to himself. Her singing was what he needed, and he had thought he wanted her love as well. But if she still thought he could be her father, that didn’t seem very realistic.

Both men’s swords were caught together between bars. They turned to glare at each other, and both were surprised at the lust they found in the other’s eyes. They untangled themselves and Erik used Raoul’s surprise to his advantage, and soon Raoul’s blood was staining his white sleeve. The advantage was soon lost as Raoul’s anger and pain gave him the fuel he needed to rid Erik of his sword and knock him to the ground. Raoul raised his sword to kill.

“No Raoul!” Christine’s voice rang out, stopping Raoul’s sword. “No, not like this.” Raoul looked at her, his sword still raised.

“Not like what?” Erik looked at Christine, wondering the same thing. “Not in a fair fight? Not when he attacked me first? Not like what Christine?” His voice had become hoarse, his anger and pain turning from the man on the ground to the woman who had caused all this.

Raoul sheathed his sword and put his hand out to Erik, who tentatively grasped it and used it to pull himself to his feet.

“Take her.” Raoul’s voice came out an angry whisper.

“What?” Christine screamed.

“You want him, he wants you, go get married.”

“She thinks I’m her father, I’m not marrying her.” Erik interrupted.

“You lead me to believe you were my father! It’s your fault if I think that.”

“Maybe I did,” he murmured. “Maybe it is my fault. But not anymore. I made it clear that night that I was your angel, and I was not your father. What father would touch his daughter like that?”

“But you came from my father’s tomb just now!”

“I came to you away from the opera house, away from the vicomte. It was the only option I had. Obviously it was a bad idea.” Raoul laughed, and Erik turned to look at him. He looked very attractive when he was smiling.

“It seems, Christine,” Raoul began, still grinning broadly. “That you have lost both your options. You shall just have to continue as a diva at the opera populaire.” He turned to Erik. “Monsieur, we have never been properly introduced.” He put his hand out to him. Christine stood by, shocked and confused.

“I am Erik,” he replied, taking the young man’s hand. “Or the Opera Ghost, as some of my notes to you are signed.” Raoul laughed again.

“And I am the Vicomte de Chagny, patron of the opera populaire.”

“It seems we share a love of the opera then, would you care to have dinner with me? Of course, we’ll have to get you cleaned up first. You look a little…disheveled.” He grinned behind the mask. “Forgive me for that.”

“It’s quite alright, sir. You managed to come away looking rather dashing, you’ll have to give me some tips over dinner.”

The two walked off towards the white stallion. They continued to talk comfortable as they tied the horse to the back of the carriage. Christine followed mutely behind them, unable to comprehend what was happening. They dropped her and the horse off at the opera house, and they continued on to the de Chagny residence. Christine watched them ride off together in shock, altogether too confused to feel anything else.

A/N: Well there it is. Please don't tell me it's lame; I only want to hear good things. I tell myself enough bad things to cover it.