Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera

A spooky little one-shot for Halloween! Even if it is a few days late...

Enjoy!

The lock on the front door of the little house on the lake clicked shut- a sound that was foreign to innocent Christine Daaé's ears.

She couldn't remember a time that she had ever been allowed to be alone in Erik's house, at least that she was conscious of. She was quite certain that there had been many instances where her maestro had left her alone, though she hadn't been aware that he was gone, most likely due to being safely tucked away in the Louis-Philippe room, trapped in the sweet solace of slumber. However, this time she was wide awake, and knew good and well that Erik had left, though as to whether or not he knew that she was awake was questionable.

Christine counted a full three minutes in her head before shoving the thick blanket off her, causing it to land on the floor beside the bed with a soft 'thump'. The soprano hurriedly stood to her feet, wishing to be as swift as possible with what she had set out to do, seeing that she had absolutely no idea how long Erik would be out…

The floor boards creaked underneath her feet as she rushed over to the wooden door of the Louis-Philippe room and flung it open. The hallway was completely dark, something that Christine hadn't counted on. She pursed her lips and walked back into the room, feeling her way through the bulky furniture that made up the room until she felt the nightstand that sat humbly by her bed. She yanked open the top drawer and began searching for a candle, a task that proved harder than she thought since her eyes hadn't entirely adjusted to the dark yet.

Her hand came in contact with a single candle stick and it's holder before she pulled it out. She then opened up the bottom drawer and easily located the box of matches, a necessity that she had begged and pleaded with Erik to get. For he thought her intentions were to set his home on fire.

She quickly struck the match and lit the candle, carefully, so as not to burn herself in the process. The warm glow of light that emerged from the candle was a comfort to Christine, for as much as she disliked fire, she hated the dark much more.

Christine stood up, candle in hand, walked back into the hallway and her eyes effortlessly found her object of interest: Erik's bedroom door.

She visibly gulped and stepped closer to it, an odd mix of fear and curiosity coming over her. Curiosity took over as she groped for the door handle, pushing it open. She gasped as she looked around, she had only ever been in Erik's quarters once, and she had dared not return after a certain incident with his mask…

Christine shook the ill memories from her head and continued inside, the candle providing what little light it could manage. She glanced around, her eyes bounding between all the scattered sheet music and general mess of her maestro's room. An organ sat up against the far wall and his 'bed' sat in the middle.

Christine shivered, unnerved by the coffin. She had always hated the things, so one could only imagine the shock when she discovered her angel- no, Erik had chosen that very object to sleep in.

The only place fit for a corpse….

The red velvety lining seemed to beckon her, inviting her towards it, but Christine refused- she had but one goal while Erik was out, and dying was not it.

No, the only thing that was on her mind was to grab her father's violin and then hide it back in her room where it would be safe and sound. A very simple feat, or so she thought…

Erik had stolen it from Charles Daaé's grave on the night his dearest Christine had went to Perros, simply to play on it for her, another tactic in deceiving her, Christine had figured out. However, the young soprano was bound determined to get it back, and she knew exactly where he had taken it.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of a thick, black curtain that was hanging just beside of Erik's majestic instrument. Christine stole a quick look behind herself before walking over to it, carefully pulling back the hanging to reveal a basic door, painted black to blend in with the rest of his dwellings. She reached out to see if it was locked, but to her surprise it easily opened.

How strange, she thought.

With one last look behind her, she entered the small room- well, a closet. The space, Christine noted, was far too small to be considered another room. She held her candle out in front of her, desperately searching for the case that held the precious violin. But something seemed to shimmer in the corner, barely hidden beneath a crate and a small pile of journals, high upon a dresser. She whipped her head around to get a better view.

Christine inched over to the object, rose to her tip toes, and lifted away the things that were on it. Her hand grasped the cool surface of metal and she yanked it off of the dresser, causing it to fall to the floor with a clang.

She gasped.

It was an oil lamp, most likely from Erik's travels to Persia, gold in color with specks of rust giving away its age. The handle of it didn't quite connect to the body of it, though the lid was firmly in place, refusing to budge despite Christine's effort to pull it off.

Christine bent down and let the tips of her fingers graze the surface of it, the intricate design feeling foreign under her fingertips. With nimble fingers, she swiped it up to get a better look.

She caught her reflection on the side of it and leaned in closer to rub away some of the dust. As she did, the shiny surface began to grow cloudy. Her eyes widened as a stream of smoke began pouring out of the funnel and the lamp practically wriggled itself out her hands before dropping to the ground. The lamp began shaking uncontrollably and the room was soon engulfed by the rising smoke coming from it.

The shaking stopped.

Christine coughed and fanned the air in front of her, attempting to clear the fog like squinted her eyes to see, though quickly regretted it. She gasped at what she saw, completely frozen where she stood.

From the smoke a tall figure could be made out, a man it would seem to be. It had black hair down its shoulder and a small beard that formed a singular curl at the end of it. He was clad in a silk burgundy outfit with gold and black trimmings decorating the edge of the seams of his pants and vest.

"How do you do?" A deep, rich voice broke the silence.

"Who are you?" Christine finally asked, after the initial shock was over.

"Me?" The strange man pointed to himself. "I am the genie of the lamp, at your service," he answered before giving a slight bow.

He looked up at her before he picked up her delicate hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. Christine's jaw dropped and she jerked her hand away.

"Don't touch me," she warned, backing up.

The genie cocked his head.

"Is that a wish?" he asked with a smirk.

"No, that is not a wish, that is a command!" Christine answered, but then gasped, her mind processing what he had just said.

"You grant wishes?"

The genie raised his eyebrows and put on his most charming smile.

"Why of course, that is what genies do," he told her, giving her a playful wink. "Three wishes, to be exact."

Christine looked between him and her hands before gaining the courage to speak again.

"Can you grant anything?" she asked shyly.

"Anything," he confirmed. "Though I must warn you, all wishes and their outcomes are irreversible."

Christine brought her hand to her lips as her eyes scanned the room before she turned her attention to the magical being in front of her. She rocked back on to her heels and heard a light squeak come from beneath her. She looked down-

She found her answer.

"Fix the floor board," she said.

The genie blinked, but other than that, remained unaffected by her request.

Christine pursed her lips and repeated the sentence.

The same.

"Are you going to wish for anything, my sweet?" the genie said cunningly.

Christine's mouth formed a tiny 'o' as she nodded, then spoke again. "I wish for you to fix the floorboard."

The genie raised his eyebrows then glared at the floor underneath Christine's foot. Christine gasped and jumped out of the way as the floor stretched and pulled itself before finally settling down and adjusting to fit perfectly among the other slabs of wood.

"Amazing..." she whispered, an idea for her next wish already clear in her mind.

"You believe that to be amazing?" the genie scoffed. "I'd love to see what you think of some of the more...complex orders," he added with a smile that wasn't quite genuine.

"I have my second wish," Christine interrupted.

The genie cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You do know do you?"

"Yes," she quickly said. "I wish for my father's violin to be safely transported to my room, and for it to be set on my bed, in its case- in one piece," she finished, making sure that she worded it carefully.

She recalled one of her neighbor's tales from when she was a child, and how genies could be very tricky, so one must always be careful with how they go about wishing for things...

"Is that final?" the genie's richly accented voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Oh! Yes, yes, that is my wish," Christine managed to stammer.

He nodded, then tipped his head upward. Christie ducked as her father's violin went soaring over her head and out the door of the closet, blowing out the candle as it flew by.

"Done." The genie clapped his hands together, watching the girl in front of him who was staring at him with her jaw dropped.

"H-how..." Christine stuttered, her first finger pointing at the door.

"Magic, my darling-"

Slam!

Christine cringed as soon as the sound of the door being violently shut crossed her ears.

"Hide!" she urgently whispered.

"Is that a wish-"

"No!" she cut him off as she scooped up the magic lamp.

"Well then, until your final wish..." he bowed.

Christine blinked and he was gone. She shook her head and scurried out of Erik's room, making sure the closet door was shut firmly behind her. She made it to the hallway, half way to the door of her bedroom-

"Christine! What are you doing?" Erik's voice seemed to wrap around her.

Christine gasped, hid the lamp behind her back, and turned to face him.

"I couldn't sleep, so-" she began, going with the first excuse that had popped into her mind.

"So you thought wandering around my house while it was unattended was a good idea?" Erik practically roared.

Christine finally locked eyes with his, though instantly regretted it. His eyes appeared more like golden flames that were lit by rage, surrounded by a black leather mask. Just a small part of his face was visible and already that made her sick just from the memory of that night. Christine whipped her head away so as not to be reminded of the awful twisted memory, but a gloved hand caught her jaw and forced her to look back.

"What? Did you forget what I looked like locked away in that room of yours? Hm?" Erik asked, tightening his hold.

Christine did her best to shake her head, but that proved to be fairly difficult.

"Really? Because I think you did, perhaps you need a reminder?"

His free hand went up to grab the edge to his mask, gently tugging at it to pull it free and show what lay beneath it.

"No! Please, no!" Christine cried out, pulling away from him. "Please, don't..." she trailed off, tears rolling down her cheeks and one hand cradling her jawbone.

Erik seethed for a moment, but then his eyes widened and he stretched a hand out as to comfort the young woman in front of him, but instead dropped to his knees, helpless.

"Oh, Christine! Poor, dear Christine! He must forgive her Erik, for he knows not what he has done. He never would mean to hurt her! Please, forgive him..." he glanced up, searching for any sign of sympathy in her eyes, but she was looking away.

"Please, might I see you? Just a glimpse?"

Christine slowly turned her head so that he could see. Erik stood to his feet, but quickly fell back to his knees at the sight of the bluish bruises beginning to form in the exact spot where his fingers had been.

"I have scarred you Christine! Oh, what a monster I am! If Erik hadn't been born with such a face this would never have happened. If only he were normal," he apologized at her feet.

"Yes, I wish someone else had been cursed with your face, maybe things would be different if it just disappeared," Christine mumbled, before slapping her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just said.

Oh no, she added silently in her thoughts.

Clang!

Erik shot to his feet and Christine immediately turned around. The genie's lamp that she had tried so hard to conceal from him was now shaking vigorously on the ground and spurting out puffs of smoke.

Christine shut her eyes, knowing that at any minute now a Persian man, dressed to the nines would be standing in front of them. She waited, and waited, before she finally opened one eye, only to see that the lamp had stopped moving entirely and that there was no strange magical being to be found.

Perhaps it only works when there was just one person in its presence...

"Where did you find that?" Erik snarled, staring at the object on the floor.

Christine didn't answer.

"You were in my chambers! I warned you never to go in there! How dare you defy my requests?" he shouted, swiping the magic lamp off of the floor.

Christine opened her mouth to answer, but all of her attempts to speak got caught in the back of her throat.

"Well? Are you going to say something?" he went to raise his eyebrows, but halted when his leather mask clattered to the floor.

Silence.

Neither gasped, nor made an effort to snatch the mask. Erik's hands, however, did fly up to hide his face, but Christine could only stare.

"Move your hands," she told him, her voice faltering only slightly at the end of the request.

Erik peered down at her through the spaces between his gloved fingers.

"Why-"

"Move your hands," she repeated.

And this time, reluctantly, he did.

He was different, he was no longer deformed, Erik was, dare she think it, handsome!

His hair no longer spurted out in little tufts, instead he had a head full of thick, raven hair, and his skin didn't appear to be stretched paper-thin across his sharp cheekbones. But the most prominent was that he had a nose. An actual nose! It almost made him unrecognizable, seeing as before that moment she wasn't able to imagine him with a nose.

"Erik, your..." Christine whispered, still in shock.

Erik raised a flawless eyebrow and brought his hand back to his face, exploring every new feature.

"Christine- what happened?" he asked through his teeth, unsure whether to be appalled or delighted at the new deck of cards fate had handed him.

Christine bit her tongue and silently pointed at the golden lamp.

"I...I may have gone into your room and found a magic lamp that is home to genie who told me that he would grant me three wishes," she explained under her breath.

"Impossible," Erik shook his head, now raking his fingers through his hair. "Do you dare lie to me, girl? Come up with some silly nonsense and try to convince me that it's the truth!"

Christine looked up at him through her long lashes, pushing back a blonde curl as she did.

"You doubt it? Then how did you lose your deformity in the matter of seconds, the moment I wished for it?" she asked.

Erik opened his mouth to speak but shut again, throughly stumped at her remark. How was it possible? After all, one's face cannot suddenly change in a blink of an eye! But his had…or had it?

A mirror.

He needed a mirror!

The object he never wanted to come in contact with was what could prove to him if what Christine spoke was truth. But, the question was: where to find one?

"Christine, have you a mirror?" he asked, now unsure if he truly wanted to see himself.

Christine nodded before taking off to her quarters, returning a moment later with a small handheld mirror. Erik put his palm out and Christine gently set the mirror on it. With a shaking hand, Erik brought it up to his face.

Normal.

That was all he could think when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Ever since he could remember, all he had ever wanted was to be normal. Even just a taste of normalcy would have satisfied him- but he was a prisoner. Held captive by what hid behind the mask, forever bound to the life he had been living.

But now, he was free.

"Christine?" Erik called from the other side of the door.

He knocked again, waiting for an answer. When he didn't get one, he let out a heavy sigh, he raised his hand to knock once more-

"Good morning," Christine said sleepily, half way through a yawn as she opened the door.

Erik froze, eyes wide.

It couldn't be…

"Erik?" Christine said, waving her hand in front of his new face. "What's the matter?"

His jaw dropped before he began backing away, nearly running into the wall behind him. Jumbled words came pouring out his mouth, much too quickly for Christine to comprehend.

"Erik, you are scaring me. Why are you acting like that- why do you shrink from me?" she asked, walking towards him.

He began violently shaking his head as he slid down the wall, holding out a hand to stop her from coming any closer.

"Y-your…nose…your face!"

Christine cocked an eyebrow.

"What about my face?" she inquired slowly, disturbed by the disgusted tone of his voice.

Erik shot to his feet before disappearing down the hallway. Christine followed him, intently watching him. He turned a corner and walked into the sitting room. Erik snatched the mirror Christine had given him the night before off the table next to his settee and held it out for Christine to take.

Christine took it. She brought it up to her face before letting out a shriek and dropping the mirror to the ground, little shards of glass going everywhere.

Time froze.

What she had seen was a nightmare.

With jagged breaths, she picked up one of the larger fragmented pieces and held it out in front of her to look again, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

The reflection in the mirror was not her face- it was Erik's!

Two empty eye sockets stared back at her, right where her beautiful sea colored eyes once shimmered, and her cascading curls were now sparse across her head. Her skin had turned a nasty yellow and stretched tight across her bones, thin like parchment. A skeleton hand reached up and hovered over the gaping hole where her nose used to be, almost afraid to touch it.

Her face was nothing more than noseless skull!

"Christine, I swear to you, I will fix this. Your Erik will make it better, he swears. Even if he has to go through hell and back- he will fix it! He promises his poor Christine, he promises…" Erik's voice seemed so faraway, just a begging whisper in Christine's ear as he droned on.

Christine let the piece of mirror slip through her hands and on to the floor, as the genie's ominous warning rang loudly throughout her mind.

All wishes and their outcomes are irreversible….

She fainted dead away.

The End