Summary: What would happen if Erik, Raoul and Christine got sucked into Star Wars? A rather long, strange, but hilarious, one-shot.

disclaimer: I don't own either Star Wars or the Phantom of the Opera... or the Wizard of Oz. In other words, all these characters are not mine.

The Phantom of the Death Star

The big automatic door swished open, and Monsieur Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny entered, light saber in hand.

In the past half hour, he had been sucked here by some mysterious force (it always works that way) that brought him to a place called "Death Star" (homey sounding place). He was filled in by some blonde guy with a big, glowing sword. His friends were pretty creepy, too, especially the furry one they called "Chewbacca". That one especially freaked Raoul out a little. To make matters worse, while the blonde guy—Raoul thought he said that his name was "Luke"—was explaining everything to his French nineteenth century brain in English, Luke was vaporized. Comforting.

Panicking, he did the one thing he could do: he grabbed the saber and ran as though a mountain lion was coming after him.

Christine was even less enthused. She was brought here by the force too. The two women (the other being Princess Lea) took one look at each other and said simultaneously, "Nice hair," both being sarcastic, and both "hmphed" indignantly. Princess Lea was then vaporized, which freaked out Christine (but it was hard to say that she was sad to see her go), and she followed after Raoul after grabbing Lea's gun, not even knowing how to work it, and ran.

The two left the crazy robots, Bigfoot, and that other man (Han Solo, who apparently flew everyone here on some contraption called "The Millennium Falcon") behind to deal with the controls and such. Raoul and Christine were merely interested in getting back to the Opera Populaire, and frankly could care less about what happened on the Death Star.

Before the light sucked them up like dust into a vacuum cleaner, Raoul had been bound and tied in the Phantom's lair in a failed attempt to save Christine. Erik had just said, "You try my patience? Make your choice!" to Christine. Before anyone had a chance to react, they had been transported to this mass chaos. Christine had made her decision by now, but she had no way of telling Erik.

"Undoubtedly," Raoul muttered to her, "he's here somewhere. We only need to find this... Darth Vader character."

"What does he look like?"

"Dresses head to toe in black, wears a mask to hide deformed face..."

"Sounds familiar," she said. "How can we tell them apart?"

"He possesses a powerful 'force' that only the 'Jedi Knights' use, whatever that may mean. Luke said he could strangle us all from a distance--"

"He doesn't use Punjab lassos too, does he?"

"Um, Luke couldn't quite explain it to me. He got vaporized."

"Oh, yeah."

Just then, a bunch of Storm Troopers arrived.

"What do we do now?" Christine whispered through clenched teeth.

"Uh... uh... uh," Raoul stammered.

"Fire at will!" said one.

"WAIT, WE SURRENDER!" Raoul shouted, falling to his knees and putting his hands behind his head.

"You're a Jedi. You have a saber. We don't take them alive."

"I don't even know what a 'Jedi' is! I just want to go back to France!"

"Oh, we'll send you back, buddy. We'll blast you until kingdom come!"

Christine fainted, dropping the gun (it was a rather fruitless endeavor to even pick it up to begin with). The troops took her prisoner, and oddly enough forgot all about Raoul (singing, "Track down those Jedi! They must be killed!"). Raoul wasn't about to give up Christine without a fight, however.

Use the force, Luke, said a voice in Raoul's head, that sounded like an old man.

"What? Are you Christine's Angel of Music? You dare to sing songs in my head?"

Does it sound like I'm singing? he asked with irritation. And who's Christine?... wait, you're not Luke. Where's Luke?

"Vaporized."

Ooh, the man's voice said. Raoul could sense him cringing. Well, who are you?

"I am Monsieur Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny, the patron of the Opera Populaire in Paris, France. Who on earth are you, mysterious disembodied senile male voice in my head?"

I was Obi Wan Kanobi. I was killed by Darth Vader, my old apprentice—I let him do it so I could be more powerful.

Raoul stifled a laugh. "Obi Wan Kanobi? What kind of name is that?"

Do you want to defeat Darth Vader or not?

"I actually don't care about Darth Vader. I'm more interested in saving Christine and defeating Erik and going back to France, to the Opera Populaire. The Death Star hasn't been very... hospitable to my being alive."

Why do you think they call it the Death Star? Because they want you alive? The man sighed impatiently. Look, I am a master of the force. You're not Luke, but I'll have to make due with what I've got. No time to train you, just take out your light saber and hack everything blindly. The force will guide you.

Raoul blinked. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

Just do it! the man bellowed. Raoul's body was pushed forward by an unknown force, and he did as he said. All the Storm Troopers were soon on the floor, body parts singed and eschew (though their last, "Track down those Jedi!" resonated in the sterile-white halls).

"Ew," Christine said, having just come around, and she fainted again. Raoul put his light saber away and threw her unceremoniously over his shoulders.

Coming from down the corridor, he heard maniacal laughter and very loud breathing, which sounded almost like maniacal laughter, but it sounded more like static (if Raoul knew what static sounded like, he wouldn't have thought that the Phantom had unlocked the powers to the Ultimate Mechanical Punjab Lasso Machine or something).

There they are! Obi Wan shouted. Go!

Raoul was pushed forward. He realized that this Obi Wan (seriously, what kind of name was that?) was controlling his body.

"Hey, this isn't fair! I don't take over your body!"

That is because you are a weakling and easily succumb to Jedi mind tricks. You will never understand. Now, come on. Leave the girl here. She'll only get hurt where you're going.

Raoul reluctantly left the unconscious Christine outside the door (he had no control over his body, so he couldn't protest) and entered.

Inside, Raoul saw the worst thing possible: Darth Vader and Erik, having a modernized tea party.

"Really? That's interesting," Vader said, putting down his cup of tea (which he couldn't drink, anyway, as his mask wouldn't allow it). "I can't say I've ever been sucked anywhere by a mysterious force, but I can't say this hasn't happened before... those silly wormholes—wait. I sense there is a man... French... young... terrified... the force is with him, but he is greatly inexperienced... he's standing by the door, three inches away from the control panel."

Erik stood up, squinting at Raoul. "He's a fop. He can't do much."

"But he has my teacher with him, fop or no," Vader said, standing.

"I am not a fop!" Raoul said indignantly. Inside his head, he heard Obi Wan slap his forehead and mumble something like "hopeless".

"Shut up!" Raoul shouted to Obi Wan.

The two masked men turned and faced him, thinking that Raoul was addressing them.

"You dare interrupt our parley!" Vader said. He clenched his fist. Raoul suddenly felt as though he was in a Punjab lasso again.

"You really must teach me how to do that," Erik said, admiring his work.

"And I shall, young apprentice... well, not so young." He clenched his fist tighter.

"Christine, forgive me!" Raoul sang in anguish, his throat tightening.

"Wait," Erik said, holding his hand up. "Let me dispatch him. You have nothing against him. The grudge is mine."

"Very well," he said, letting go. "I have a precariously placed platform over a bottomless pit that I was supposed to duel with Luke on out back. You two can go there and fight to the death."

"Thanks, Anakin."

"It's no trouble at all, Erik."

Erik and Raoul got to the platform and took fighting positions. It was like sword-fighting in the graveyard all over again, but on a dangerous platform with light sabers.

"To the death, you fop!" Erik said, taking out his red light saber.

"I am not a fop!" Raoul said again.

"Then why is your saber pink?"

"Gah!" Raoul said, noticing it for the first time. "It's not my fault. It belonged to that Luke kid."

"Right," Vader scoffed, and sarcastically added, "and Luke's saber magically changed from green to pink. Come now, there are no fairies here."

"I don't know how to explain it! I just--"

"Raoul?"

"What?"

"Shut up," Erik said, holding out his saber. "And now, for Christine!"

The two dueled with their light sabers. Erik was guided by Vader, and Raoul was guided by Obi Wan. The two did a series of flips and other things that they couldn't normally do in this fight (as Jedi knights do, you know)—but the force was with them, thanks to their proud (or not so proud, in the case of Obi Wan) sponsors. Erik finally sliced off Raoul's hand.

"Join me, Raoul," he heard himself saying, oddly enough, "come to the dark side."

"Never," Raoul heard himself saying, cradling his arm, "you killed my father."

"No, Raoul," he said, standing above him, "I... am your father."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Raoul cried. Then he snapped out of it. "Wait, huh? You're not my father! That's impossible!"

"You bet it is." Erik glared at Darth Vader.

"Sorry, fed you the wrong script," Vader said above.

"If you're going to use mind control, use it right," Erik replied indignantly.

Ha, ha! Luke couldn't resist but take over you, too, Obi Wan said inside Raoul's head.

Hi, Raoul! said a voice that sounded like Luke's.

"Will you ever stop talking?" Raoul shouted, covering his ears, as though that would help stop the voices inside his head (he soon realized that fallacy in logic and uncovered his ears). Vader and Erik took that as an insult to himself.

"Finish him off," Darth said, "before I do."

"No!"

Christine came onto the scene, and a disembodied chorus sang, and a mysterious light shone on her. Christine glared impatiently at Darth Vader.

"Come on, I never get to use that setting on my special effects box!"

Christine continued to glare at him. He sighed.

"Alright, you win..." he grumbled, turning off the chorus and the light. Christine then composed herself.

"I made my choice!"

Erik looked at her. He nodded to Vader, who held Raoul in an invisible Punjab. He wanted to have basically the same circumstances, considering the setting.

"Which is...?"

"Well, I'm going to sing to you and kiss you."

"Sounds good to me," Erik said, eagerly putting his light saber away.

"Christine, no!"

"Relax," she said. "I saw the movie. R2D2 had it on file. I know what will happen."

"What is a movie?"

"It's too complicated to explain right now."

"Whatever. This isn't the Opera Populaire!"

"Relax. It can't possibly have a different ending."

"Are you so sure? I mean, Erik just told me that he was his father!"

"THAT WAS THE WRONG SCRIPT! SHEESH!" Vader shouted, irritated.

"Yes, and I would never ask anyone but Christine to join me—especially you, on purpose," Erik said, disgusted at the thought of having to live with Raoul.

"But you—"

"Shut up. And you should be aware by now that your hand is still attached. It was Luke's prosthetic hand I cut off—how it got there, I don't know, but... you can stop whimpering about that now. If you haven't noticed, there is no blood."

"Oh," Raoul said, popping his real hand into place. "I wondered why there was no pain..."

"Everyone, shut up!" Christine shouted. She cleared her throat.

"Pitiful creature of darkness

What kind of life have you known?

God give me courage to show you

You are not alone!"

Christine kissed Erik.

"The horror! The horror!" Raoul shouted, trying to look away.

"Shut up!" Vader shouted to him. "You know, this brings back memories... Christine looks a lot like my wife. Oh, those were the good ol' days, when I was married... I kind of wrecked that a tad... now both my kids are dead and my wife..."

Erik now kissed Christine.

"...yeah, and that was the day I got my deformities, too.. I fell in a huge lava pit after leaving my wife almost dead..."

"No one cares," Raoul said, trying to look away from the scene in front of him.

"Well, excuse me, le Vicomte de Chagny, king of the world," Vader said sarcastically.

Erik and Christine stopped kissing.

"Let us be married, then!" Erik said, holding her eagerly.

"Say what?"

"Let us be married, then," he repeated. "There are no mobs here, and... you have an organ, right?"

"Er..." Vader trailed.

"What do you mean by 'er'?" Erik asked Vader, looking up at him gently letting go of Christine.

"Define 'organ'."

"Organ. Noun. Instrument similar to piano, with keys and pedals. Played to make music."

"Oh, that kind of... um, well, you see, we don't have anything musical here."

"WHAT?!!!!!!!" Erik nearly fell off the precariously perched platform. "No music? How do you expect Christine and I to live here?!!!!"

"Um... organs and pianos don't exist any more, and what does exist in its stead sounds terrible. We just did away with music around here, to save our hearing and our sanity."

"How could you possibly get rid of music?"

"Have you ever heard a synthesizer?"

"No."

"You are one very lucky man."

Erik fainted. Christine didn't take the news of the lack of music so hard.

"Free Raoul, and bring us back to the Populaire," Christine demanded of Vader.

Vader laughed his static laugh. "Who's going to make me, little lady? You?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn!" Christine said. She sang a very wrathful, Carlotta-like high note. It echoed painfully throughout the vacuous room. He covered his ears (Raoul did, too. Erik would've done the same and wondered where he had gone wrong, had he not been out cold on the floor).

"Ah! It burns, it BURNS!! Stop, stop, stop! AHHHH!!" Vader's mask and suit short circuited, and he tumbled backwards over the railing and fell down the bottomless pit.

"I'll be baaaaaaaack!" he shouted, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling...

"Poor man," Christine said, looking at the speck of him in the distance. "I should've kissed him, too."

"Christine," Raoul said, rubbing his neck and catching his breath, "you're going to marry me, remember?"

"Yes. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"All forgiven. And I understand what it's like with Erik for you, now. Obi Wan won't shut up, and Luke, too. They keep making French jokes inside my mind."

"Who is Obi Wan?" Christine asked, hoping he wouldn't say invisible friends.

"The stupid guy who won't stop telling me stuff like, 'use the force, Raoul,' and then joins Luke in laughing about France."

"Ok..." Christine said, freaked out, "let's just all head back to the Opera Populaire."

"Sure," Raoul said. He then stopped. "Uh, how do we do that?"

The two suddenly heard a giggling. They saw a pink bubble coming nearer to them.

"We're going to die! AHH!" Raoul said.

"Calm down, or you'll fall down the pit, too."

The pink bubble turned into this woman with a large pink dress, crown, and a huge wand with a star at the end of it.

"Who the heck are you?" Christine asked.

She giggled. "I am Glinda, the good witch from the North."

"Glinda? What is up with these names?!" Raoul shouted.

"Silence," she said with a sweetened smile. "Is that how you repay me, after I change your light saber to that beautiful color?"

"You—changed—"

She giggled. "Yes. Pink is lovely, isn't it? Anyway, the way to get out of here is simple... you had the power to leave all along!"

"We did?"

"Of course. The ruby red slippers you stole from the Wicked Witch of the East after landing a house from Kansas on her! Just click your heels three times and say, 'I wish I was home'."

The two stared at her.

"Right," she said, giggling. She was quite insane, and ditzy. "Sorry, I thought you were Dorothy...and you were the scarecrow... how did I end up here, instead of Oz? Oh, not again! This happens every Tuesday... Oh, I hope those ruby slippers sent her back to Kansas and not here!.. oh, no, that was a Wednesday that I sent her... I think. Oh, well! Anyway, I suppose Vader's shoes will do."

"Uh..." Christine said, looking down past her feet through the grated floor of the platform. Darth Vader's speck was now gone, though his voice was still slightly reverberating on the walls.

"Oh," Glinda said realizing what happened. "Well, then, who's the next best villain?"

Raoul and Christine slowly looked over at the fainted Erik.

"Ah, then he will do."

Christine looked at her pleadingly, hoping to touch her at the bond which only fellow women share. "Do I have to wear his shoes?"

"Yes," she said, slightly irritated, not touched in the least. Christine sighed, defeated. Glinda was beyond womanhood and well on her way into Bimboland, so no connection existed.

Glinda then giggled a little and regained composure. "It's the only way."

Christine bent down and took off Erik's shoes, and took off her own.

"'Take a walk in someone else's shoes,' they say," she scoffed. "I never planned on doing it literally."

She put the shoes on. Suddenly, her pleasant face changed into an angry frown.

"Fop!" she yelled at Raoul, and slapped him across the face. Raoul was shocked beyond belief.

"Oh, dear, that happens sometimes," Glinda giggled calmly. "The wearer of the shoes sometimes becomes the person who owns them. Well, when you two get home, take the shoes off and she'll return to normal."

A task easier said than done, thought Raoul. Hey, those two left my mind!

Think again, French lad! Ha, ha! I'm funny, Obi Wan.

Raoul heard Obi Wan slap his forehead in his mind.

Glinda giggled and turned into a pink bubble, oblivious to the nature of the person Christine just turned into.

"You're leaving me?" Raoul asked, Christine now in the process of trying to strangle him barehanded (since she had no Punjab).

"Of course! I have the wonderful world of Oz to look after...however I get back... good luck!" She giggled and disappeared in the same pink bubble Raoul longed to pop.

Raoul thought quickly. Christine had realized that Erik always carried a spare Punjab lasso, and had just fetched it.

"I'll let you marry Christine if you click your heels and say, 'I wish I was home' three times," Raoul negotiated.

"Ha, fop!" she shouted, and shoved the Punjab lasso over his neck.

"I'm not a fop!"

"Silence! For one, I am Christine... and Erik... we are already married by the fairy-witch power of the shoes. And two, I never want to go back to that horrible place!"

"There's no music here," Raoul sang lithely.

"I wish I was home," Christine said quickly, clicking her heels. She did it three times, and soon, all of them were back at the Opera Populaire.

Christine was dazed for three seconds after they returned. Raoul quickly made a move for the shoes and tossed them aside, and quickly took the lasso off. She immediately became normal.

"Whoa, that was so weird," Christine said. "Never make me wear anyone else's shoes ever again!"

"I won't, my schnookums!"

Christine blinked. "Never call me that again."

"Sure. Just never call me a fop again."

"I didn't mean it, sweetie."

Erik was coming to. "Ugh... urk..."

"Track down this murderer! He must be found!" sang the oncoming mob wrathfully. Erik snapped out of his stupor. He stood up on the cold, wet ground.

"Go... forget me... forget all of this... marry him, if you wish," he heard himself saying. Christine and Raoul left on his boat in a heartbeat, singing, "Say you love me..."

The Phantom realized then that his feet were colder than usual. "What the... why are my feet wet? My shoes are floating in the lake! Argh! No time to get them, either! Wait... what am I supposed to do now?"

The music box began to play. "Oh, right."

He listened to his odd monkey music box. "Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade, yada, yada, yada... cue Christine and..."

Christine came back, holding the ring. Erik then grabbed her wrist.

"You can't leave me here alone, Christine! I--love you."

"Sorry..." Christine said, giving him the ring, "...about your magical shoes."

Erik looked at her, befuddled, wondering what had happened with his shoes while he was unconscious. She left in that time. His brain kept saying, Go after her, go after her!

But, he did not. He stood, broken-hearted and desperate, and sang, "You alone can make my song take flight! It's over now the music of the night!"

Before he vanished, he vowed under his breath with a sudden feeling of vindication, "For now, my Christine... for now...and what could she have possibly meant about my shoes being magical?"

Then, he vanished, and the oncoming mob arrived. They could find nothing of him, except his mask... but it was rumored there were voices down there in his lair, that no one could describe or reason out why they were there...

Use the force, Luke...

Teeheeheeheehee! Come to me, my Munchkins! (cue Munchkin laughter)

I am your father!

NOOOOOOO!!

I wish I was home... (click, click, click...)

French men are French! Ha, ha! I can be a comedian! Right, Obi Wan?

(slap forehead)

And that's why Mars should be painted purple! (wait, that's not right...)

The Bizarre, Yet Finally Finished, End

Review, and I'll review your stuff.