Chapter One:

I sighed, standing in the middle of Time Square, exactly a year after the day my "twin" said goodbye and left my world.

I kind of wished, hoped beyond hope, that Erik would suddenly appear in a flash of white light. But he didn't.

That didn't stop me from hoping.

I rubbed my hands together, wanting desperately to see him and Christine, just one more time, that for some strange reason, he had to come back to this world, that he wanted to stay this time.

I was surprised to find my eyes stinging with tears, thinking about him. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. A brother, a friend to me. I would probably never see him again.

He had children now. He and Christine had a pair of boy-girl twins, named after me and Emmy Rossum.

A small, feminine hand on my shoulder scared the living shit out of me, and I jumped, turning to see Emmy standing next to me.

Emmy had taken care of Christine for about a month before Erik came to me. We'd convinced her via snail mail to come to Time Square and bring Christine, whom we were just guessing was with her, and had been interrupted by Patrick Wilson and his counterpart, Raoul. Raoul had been publicly humiliated by everyone's favorite Opera Ghost (with the assistance of everyone's favorite Scottish actor [don't you just love me?]), and Christine had left with her hand in Erik's.

I smiled at Emmy, and looked up at the noon sky. "It's not the same since they left," I said, noting the storm-gray cloud coverage.

She shook her head in agreement. "It's like we've known them our entire life," she murmured.

I chuckled. "Technically, we have."

She wrinkled her nose. She looked kind of cute that way. "Yeah, but we're not looking at the technicalities here, are we?"

I laughed out loud at that.

Her hand dropped from my shoulder to my own. "Whaddaya say we go get some coffee?" she asked, looking into my eyes.

I smiled softly. "Sure."

Emmy grinned. "I know this great place downtown . . ."

As we turned to walk toward our favorite coffee shop, a bright light flashed behind us. Shocked, we glanced at each other before whirling around, and my heart stopped.

"Oh, shit," I hissed, staring at the familiar man in front of us. He had a tall, muscular build, wearing leather (for lack of a better word) manties and a long, scarlet cape. He had short black hair except for a braid wrapped around his head and a long black beard.

He looked around, holding a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.

I almost started crying right there. "Not Leonidas!" I moaned, hitting my knees.

He turned to me, pointing the spear at my throat. "How do you know my name?" he asked. "Speak, man!"

I wailed to the heavens. "Why? Why do you hate me, God?" I shouted. "I asked for Erik, not Leonidas!"

Leonidas furrowed his eyebrows. "Where am I? Who are you?"

This time, I really, really hoped I was crazy or dreaming instead of this being real. But, feeling the cold prick of the spearhead against the skin of my throat, I knew that luxury was one I actually couldn't afford.

"Answer me or die!" Leonidas shouted.

Another flash of light, and I really did start crying that time.

He wasn't even a man. He was a CG animation.

Stoick the Vast looked up at Leonidas, who was still pointing the spear at me. "Hey!" he shouted. "Where am I?"

I wailed, pushing the spear away and kneeling down, beating my fists against the ground. "WHYYYYYY?" I shouted. "Why me? Why not George Clooney? Why can't these things happen to him?"

Another flash of light, and I didn't even look up. But, for a moment, I actually dared to hope as I heard the English accent.

"New York?" he said. I looked up, and for a moment, hoped to see the white mask. But I was not so fortunate. "I thought I was supposed to be in New Orleans!"

Dracula looked down at me, picked me up by the throat, and bared his fangs.
"Speak, human!" he hissed.

"Hey!" Leonidas shouted, pointing the spear at him. "He's mine!"

Stoick held his club ready. "I'll get a few answers outta him!" he growled.

I looked over at the silent and forgotten Emmy Rossum, who had gone pale. "Gerry?" she said softly, looking at me. "What's going on?"

I looked at her. "I'm being attacked by fictional characters I played in movies. One is a Spartan, one is a Viking, and one is a vampire. They are all very frightening and threatening to kill me. Meanwhile, I am very scared and secretly shitting my pants. What does it look like? Because, seriously, if you are asking 'What's going on?', I wanna know why it's not obvious."

I was in deep shit.