Disclaimer: I don't own POTO.

A/N: "Is it just me or do Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman sound funny whenever they sing something other than Phantom?"

"Sh! Gerry, the minions will hear you!"

"So what? Most of them think I'm hot, so I can get away with it. But seriously, I've heard Crawford make "Baby Mine" from Dumbo sound like a pedophile wrote it."

"What are you talking about?"

"His voice was reeking Phantom and here he was singing a song about 'baby of mine'."

"Ew."

"Then another time I heard Brightman sing "My Heart Will Go On" in Italian I don't care what language it's in that song is forever old and overdone. Besides, she was using that weird little girl warble voice."

"You know, you're one to talk! You choked on "Music of the Night"!"

"I can still sing!"

"Not like they can."

"There are different kinds of singing—no matter what Erik says."

"True. Gerry, I think you were a rock star trapped in an opera singer's life. Well, now that we've insulted our entire audience will you let me get on with the chapter?"

"Be my guest."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

THE HOBBITS AND THEIR LASSIES

There was not much to be had from Ophelia's diary once she realized that someone was reading it. She left it beneath the loose floorboard beside her bed, but never wrote in it anything of substantial value. Eventually, she ceased writing altogether. Meanwhile, she was becoming a figure of increasing interest for the other employees of the Opera House. The stagehands lusted after her, so did the male patrons. The ballerinas, seamstresses, and laundresses all teased and abused her. The older women scolded her. The managers ignored her. And Christine hated her.

In short, Ophelia had a very typical Sue life. Except for the fact that Erik had shown no interest in her whatsoever.

She resorted to all sorts of Sue tricks to gain his attention. She sang lonely, forlorn songs in the chapel. She hung about the door to Box Five. Her eyes glistened with compassion. Her body quivered with longing. Her voice rang with unreleased passion. She even ended up in Christine's old dressing room, gazing at the magic mirror from whence the Angel of Music came.

But it was all to no avail. Erik kept his word to Anna. He kept his heart for her, too, but he could not seem to work up enough courage to give it to her yet. Still…Anna sensed the change in Erik's behavior towards her. He was more irritable when cross, more tender when pleased. She took both as a good sign. Thus, there existed an unspoken secret between their two hearts.

But back to Ophelia the Mary Sue.

The cousins felt that in order to keep the Sue at bay they needed to know something of her thought pattern. They didn't really need the diary. Sues are not very complex creatures; one can surmise their thoughts by merely observing their actions. However, the Raven and the Spirit had very little time for haunting these days. Oh, they made sure the ballet rats knew who was boss, but with a wedding to plan and dresses to buy the dynamic duo was hard press to find time to adequately track the Sue.

They stumbled upon the solution in the haylofts of the opera's stables one night after a performance.

"Pass the rum, Pip," Que slurred. His partner in mischief complied, heaving the brown jug over a hay bale, and spilling it in the process.

Que hefted the jug to his mouth and received nothing more than a dribble. He shook the jug, stared into it, and wailed. Nothing.

Tears filled his bleary eyes as he blubbered, "Why is the rum—"

"Don't over do the rum jokes, boys."

"WAAAH!" The hobbits shrieked and jumped sky high. Towering over them were the notorious theatre haunts: the Raven and the Spirit. The two ghosts were dressed in all of their famous splendor, complete with masks. The Spirit leaned over the shivering boys, a wicked gleam shining in her eyes.

"It's just us." she whispered.

"Jus' us who?" Pip asked.

"The Misses Leroux!" the Raven cried. Both girls lifted their masks.

Pip's already rosy face burned with anger. "I might-a known it was you! Scarin' the life outta us and we've jus' 'ad our 'earts broken."

Concern immediately came over the faces of the cousins. They sat beside their old friends, patting the hobbits on their backs as they burst into messy tears.

"Pip, Que, what on earth is wrong?" Brooke cried.

Que sniveled, wiping his nose with his dirty sleeve. "Our lassies 'ave lost their 'earts to some rogue!"

"The same rogue?"

"Aye!"

Anna frowned. Jammes and Kathryn were young and flirtatious, but generally good girls. Moreover, most of the men seen about the Opera House on a regular basis were not that tempting.

"Who is this rogue?" she asked.

"Tha' bloody detective friend o' Miss Sisly's!" Pip spat.

Anna's face went white. Brooke gulped.

"Do you mean Algernon Moncreiff?" Brooke ventured, hoping against hope that she was wrong.

Unfortunately, Que answered in the affirmative, "Aye, t' very same."

Anna grabbed him by the collar, "What is he doing here?"

"Jus' lookin' for some skirts to chase," Que snapped. He shoved her away and went back to wallow in his self-pity.

Anna stood up. Her mind was whirling. She knew why Algy was really hanging around the Opera House. Brooke appeared at her shoulder.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm afraid."

"Of what exactly?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I'm more afraid of Algy finding us or of Erik finding Algy."

"Should we tell Erik?"

The cousins locked eyes. If Erik murdered Algy then the Angel of Music could kiss his chance at a normal, above ground life good-bye.

"I think," Anna began, "That we should tell him. We betrayed his trust once, we shouldn't risk doing it again."

"What about risking Algy's neck?" Brooke asked.

"Erik's mellowed out. Besides, he doesn't want to be stuck here forever."

Brooke quirked an eyebrow and smirked. Meanwhile, the hobbits had been reduced to quiet hiccupping. Their eyes were red and puffy and rivulets of snot dripped from their noses. The girls felt their own hearts breaking on behalf of their dear friends. Suddenly, Brooke was struck with a brilliant scheme.

"Pip? Que?"

"Wot?"

"I know of way that we can all help each other out."

The hobbits sat up and listened intently. Anna leaned forward.

Brooke continued, "Have you heard about the new understudy?"

"Aye."

"Well, we'd like you to find out as much as you can about her. Find out what she does with her spare hours, who or what she talks about."

Pip frowned, "Wot ever for?"

"She's dangerous to us—Erik and us girls."

"Ooooh!"

Que questioned, "But if we start stalkin' t' udderstudy our lassies'll take us fer rogues."

"Ah, but you'll need their help because they have better access to her than you do."

Que still argued, "But we aboot tha' 'tective wot's got their 'tention?"

Anna chimed in with a diabolical chuckle, "We'll take care of that."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Late that night, as they returned from their nightly toilet, Jammes and Kathryn received a visit from the Phantom's companions.

"Hello, Jammes," hissed the Spirit. The ballerina shrieked.

"Hello, Kathryn," croaked the Raven. Another shriek. The two petite dancers clung to one another in terror. Although they could not see the specters, they instantly recognized those bone-chilling voices.

"We have a favor to ask of you," the Spirit said from somewhere overhead. Jammes and Kathryn nodded frantically. Anything to appease the infamous duo.

"We want you to find out all you can about Ophelia."

Suddenly, Kathryn found her voice. "But we can't talk to her. Everyone in the corps despised her!"

"We duly empathize," came the Raven's voice from somewhere behind them. "No one hates Ophelia more than we. That is precisely why this must be done. You are to find out all she knows and feels about the Phantom and report it back to Pip and Que."

The dancers started in alarm.

"Pip and Que!" Jammes wailed, "Are you going to hurt them?"

The Spirit laughed (a very thin, eerie laugh). "Never fear! Pip and Que will always have our good favor." All at once the jolly tone in her voice evaporated. "You would do well to give them your good favor as well."

"Beware," rasped the Raven, "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, especially that no-good Algernon Moncreiff, you bring the wrath of the Phantom upon your heads."

Kathryn and Jammes trembled and nodded. They stood a moment longer, waiting with baited breath for the haunts to speak again, but only silence reigned. At their feet there lay a single black feather.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Hello, dearies! Well, we're climbing towards 2,000 reviews. Thank you all so much for the encouragement and the enthusiasm. I'm sorry that I haven't done review replies in a long time. I do read all of the reviews and I want you to know that they are appreciated.

Well, summer is almost over and you all know what that means. School. Lots of it. I'm in for a hectic year, so if I don't update in awhile it'll be because I'm neck deep in 25-page papers, internships, commutes, and maintaining a relationship. However, I did promise you all that I would finish Phantom Companions and I intend to honor that promise. So if you want to see Erik and Anna's ending, then stick around and be patient.

That said; you should also know that we are, in fact, five chapters away from the end of this mad-capped escapade. I hope you'll enjoy them.

Until chapter 66!

Your obedient servant,

M.B.