A/N: Well, I'm back. It's been a long time, friends. Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you a fanfic…

In all seriousness, it's lovely to be "home." I recently fell down a Phantom black hole in a big way, after all the 30th anniversary celebration videos started flooding my social media feed. I re-read both Leroux and Kay, and watched the 2004 movie, the 25th Anniversary DVD, and the Charles Dance version. Started reading recent fic on here, and was thrilled to see that this remains a vibrant, intelligent, incredibly talented community after so many years.

This story is a true Heinz 57 mix of versions, but I'd describe it as predominantly Kay/Leroux up until Christine's entrance, from which point it skews more ALW. (Really, guys, it's just an excuse for me to write Nadir and Madame Giry in cahoots.)

I'm currently in the market for a beta. Please PM me if you are interested or have recommendations! Edited to add: Barb's on it! Thanks Mominator124. :)

Disclaimer: I am not the ghost of Gaston Leroux, nor am I Susan Kay (sadly), nor am I a representative of the Really Useful Group. I'm just borrowing their work and blending it like a Vitamix.

"The idea of strictly minding our own business is moldy rubbish. Who could be so selfish?" – Myrtle Barker

Nadir Khan

"Erik?" I called softly from the doorway to my study.

There was no response.

Wetting my lips, I tried again, a bit more forcefully. "Erik?"

A muffled noise of discontent emitted from somewhere beneath the mound of blankets on the divan, and I released the breath I had unintentionally been holding. It had become a terrifying gamble, entering that room every morning. One of these times, I was certain I'd be forced to peel back the coverlet to reveal a true corpse.

Reassured, for the moment, that my sullen houseguest had survived yet another night, I finally dared to venture over the threshold. By force of habit, I went directly to the end table beside the divan to examine the contents of last night's supper tray. It appeared he did drink some tea, at least; I lifted the ceramic pot to test its weight, and found it half-empty. The fruit, cheese, and bread, on the other hand, were still untouched.

"This is quickly becoming ridiculous, Erik. You must eat something," I insisted. "It's been four days!"

He made no effort to sit up, or emerge from the protective cocoon he'd fashioned around himself. "How charming of you to keep count," came his muffled retort.

I scowled down at the mass of blankets heaped over his rail-thin frame. "I mean it. You can't carry on like this indefinitely."

"Certainly not," he replied, with the air of weary indulgence one normally reserves for a particularly dim-witted child. "No one lives indefinitely."

I tilted my head back, lifting my eyes heavenward in search of divine patience. With pursed lips, I drew in a deep breath through my nose and released it as a sigh. "If you don't like the food I have provided, I'd be happy to find a more agreeable alternative. I'm sending Darius to the market this afternoon. Is there anything in particular I should tell him to pick up for you?"

He paused to consider my offer before answering, "A bottle of laudanum, if he can spare a trip to the apothecary."

"Erik," I began, exasperation creeping in to my tone.

"I have a headache."

You are giving me a headache, I wanted to snap at him. But even so far removed from my homeland, I could not shake the deeply ingrained notions of hospitality, which mandated that a guest's every comfort be provided for. There was nothing to do but acquiesce, and be happy he wasn't requesting anything stronger.

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

I had long ago given up the effort of trying to predict Erik's behavior, for he inevitably left me reeling with his ability to shift from one mood to another in rapid succession. I shouldn't have been surprised, therefore, when he abruptly pushed his blankets aside and sat up, reaching across the divan to take a cluster of red grapes from the tray.

"No," he answered, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "Thank you, but you really needn't go to the trouble. This is perfectly sufficient." He wouldn't meet my gaze, and with his slouching shoulders and what little of his expression I could see around his mask, he appeared almost… penitent. "I don't wish you to think me ungrateful, Dargoa," he continued quietly, as he plucked a grape from its stem and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. "You have been a gracious host. I assure you, my indifference to food long predates my stay under this roof."

I shook my head at him, a placid smile playing at the corner of my mouth. "Well, I'd lend you some of my appetite, if I could. I'm getting fat in my old age." I patted my rounded gut for emphasis.

Erik glanced up at me, finally, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "You aren't old," he insisted, very pointedly failing to address the other half of my sentence. I laughed, more than willing to bear the brunt of his mockery if it meant putting him in a better humor.

"Eat, you insolent wretch," I scolded playfully as I turned and walked back out of the room. Feeling suddenly sentimental, I paused at the doorway, just long enough to quote his own words over my shoulder. "Your tiresome health has become very dear to me."

I can't be certain, but I thought I saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes as I closed the door to the study behind me.

I went straight away to find Darius, and sent him off to buy the damned laudanum.