Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters
Title: Infection
Summary: An evil has invaded Paris, and it seems that Christine has caught its attention. What lengths will Erik go to in order to save the world—to save the woman he loves?
Author's Note: I like the speculation thus far. It is entertaining and informative. I wanted to start off with a little note before this chapter began. As you will see, this chapter goes back in time to when Erik was first inflicted and attempting to find a cure. It gets away from Christine for a moment, but she will be back. I promise. Fans of the book will get to see a certain character pop up. I also wanted to let it know that what Erik stumbled upon or searched for wasn't the first time. Mankind had had the same questions before. It is only realistic that he isn't the first. And, I chose the passing of eight years because it didn't seem like too much or too little. There seems to be enough time beforehand for Erik to have properly searched for answers to his questions, as well as time afterward for his condition to worsen.
Chapter 3 – Eight Years Before
To any other visitor, the Persian marketplace would have been very reminiscent of a labyrinth, but not to Erik. Having lived there for a few years already, and frequenting the same bazaar, he could weave through the crowds of people like water through a sieve. He generally maintained a well-groomed exterior, but not that day. His dark hair was matted to his forehead with perspiration. His eyes were red, and he felt feverish.
He had wrapped himself up in comfortable, loose clothing so as not to feel suffocated. It was quite easy to do in the heat radiating off of the sand. He still managed to navigate well despite his haziness. Once he had broken free of the main stalls and congestion, he swerved into some of the back alleyways. His destination wasn't exactly publicly known or shared. It was something he had discovered in his pursuit.
His legs began to weaken ever so slightly, and if it wasn't for the support of surrounding buildings, his knees might have buckled. His vision started to sway. Still, he managed to venture onward, mostly fueled by his desire and determination to reach the one man who might be able to help him.
Erik stopped in front of a wooden slab, swaying slightly from the fever in his head. The door had the smallest of smears across it, appearing dark like mud. To any untrained eye, that was precisely what it was: a mud stain. Quite typical of their surroundings, some would think. However, Erik knew it meant more, as few others did too.
He rapped upon the door with what strength he had, which didn't produce too noticeable of a sound. So he tried again, but ended up missing the wood completely and scratching his knuckles on the stone façade. He was getting worse by the second. He had to get inside.
"Nadir!" he called against better judgment. It would certainly get the Persian's attention, but at the same time the man's anonymity was sacred to him. "Nadir!"
It did the trick.
The door swung open on a very alarmed and rather terse looking man. He eyed Erik up and down and immediately his expression softened. He stuck his head outside of the doorframe, glancing one way then the other. Apparently satisfied that there hadn't been any undue attention called to him, he held the door open wider.
"Come in," Nadir admitted.
And Erik acquiesced as well as he could.
The interior appeared lush and extravagant in comparison to the exterior. Where the outside wouldn't receive a second glance, the decorations and furnishings within were eye-catching. Draperies were hung about the place, acting almost as doorways to section off areas. It made some appear forbidding and others quite welcoming. The room, however, was large and open. In the center was a ring of cushioned seating with a circular table in the middle.
Erik had been inside enough times, and he was under such duress, that it went unnoticed. He could do little more than stagger to the center and there, fell onto the cushions, gasping for breath. Yet, despite his state, Nadir seemed unhurried. The Persian bolted the door and drew a similar veil over it then pivoted to tend to his guest.
"Wh-What did you do?" Erik stammered, trying to find his breath and break through the excruciating pain at the same time.
"I did what you asked of me," Nadir told him. He bypassed Erik and slipped behind a tapestry.
Erik groaned in a very animalistic manner. "I did not ask for this!" he managed between gritted teeth.
The next moment Nadir returned carrying a tray that had a pot of some steaming liquid, a bowl, and some strange looking herbs on it. He set it down on the circular table, taking a seat in the process. He very masterfully began to mix these ingredients together into a single concoction.
"You came to me in search of answers," Nadir explained rather level-headedly, despite the situation. "What makes someone or something inherently good versus inherently evil? What are the differences in their natures? What are their catalysts? How do they grow?" He paused. "Must I go on?"
Erik groaned loudly, rolling onto his stomach.
Nadir accepted that as a negative response. He swirled the ingredients in the single bowl, ensuring they were mixed completely. Then he set his tools down and picked up the bowl, taking it delicately between two hands toward where his guest lay afflicted.
"I told you the path would be dangerous, did I not?" Nadir baited.
"Yes, yes, for God's sake yes!" Erik hollered, as if his gloating hurt worst.
He held the bowl in front of Erik. "Drink this. It should help."
Erik didn't need to be told twice. With his vision spinning and his strength ebbing, he gathered his last effort to grasp the bowl and pour its contents down his throat. He didn't feel the burning liquid. His insides held a greater fire. He couldn't taste anything, for he was drunk on pain. One moment he had the bowl and the next it was clattering against the floor.
Through the agony, he hoped and prayed that he had received the concoction in time. He didn't give a thought about whether or not it was correct or it would actually work. He had to believe that it would. Even as his vision tunneled and blackness was closing in on every side, he had to believe. Even as he fell hard into unconsciousness, that hope still remained.
xXx
Erik blinked, opening his eyes very slowly. He was groggy, and every muscle in his body ached. He found himself staring up at a decorated ceiling, not quite knowing where exactly he was right away. As he turned his head this way and that, his location became apparent.
He was afraid to sit up, just feeling how tense his body was without even moving it yet. But, he knew that he was just procrastinating and that it would have to be done. He sat up, instantly regretting the decision. His insides lurched, nausea flooding his system. But, he managed to keep the emptiness down. His skin was overrun with goose prickles, partially due to the sweat from earlier. His clothes were matted to his body with a disgusting and stale feel to them.
"N-Nadir?" he called. His voice cracked. His throat burned and pushed against the use. He tried to swallow, but it was difficult. "Nadir?"
The Persian poked his head out of a corridor hidden by the draperies. "You're awake," he observed.
"Wh-What-"
"You've been out for a few hours, my friend," he informed, coming further into the room. "You'll have to take it easy. Your body has just gone through a lot of strain."
"I-I don't understand. What's happening?"
Nadir eased down onto the cushions across the table from him. His hesitation did not comfort Erik. "Do you remember the obsession that brought you to me in the first place?" he began, rehashing the tale from the beginning.
"O-Of course. It still interests me."
"You had traveled around the world in pursuit of an answer and finally showed up with the belief that I might be able to help."
"And you did."
Nadir stared directly into Erik's blood-shot eyes. "Do you recall the warning that I gave you?" When there was no immediate answer, he continued. "I told you that it was a dangerous path you were walking. I warned you not to continue on, as it would only lead to trouble. But still, you persisted."
Erik swallowed. "I have to know," he whispered desperately.
Nadir shook his head. "Do you not see what the pursuit of the truth has done to you? Do you not realize what you've become? Your soul has split in two. You now possess both natures that you were so desperately searching for: good and evil."
"That's impossible-"
"What you were experiencing earlier," Nadir cut in, knowing full well the information he was imparting was difficult to believe, "was that split. The evil wants nothing more than to kill off the good that exists. It was that evil trying to emerge."
Erik was rendered speechless. His mind couldn't wrap around the explanation, but his heart was frozen with fear. Something in his gut knew that this was the truth. Immediately his mind tried to find reason behind this bizarre phenomenon.
Nadir closed in, as if not wanting any outsiders to hear. "You must not let it," he insisted. His tone and expression certainly caught Erik's attention. "You must defeat the evil within, for if it is released upon the world, there will be much suffering and death."
"How do I do that?"
Nadir sat back, the tense air ebbing. "I cannot help you there, my friend."
"B-But you know all about it," Erik said, aghast.
"Do not mistake me," Nadir corrected. "I have come across this only two other times before. I know very little about it."
Nadir stood and disappeared behind the veil where he had previously retrieved the tea ingredients. There were a few clinks that issued forth before he emerged. He held a couple of pouches in his hands, which he set on the table in front of Erik. Then he slid into a seat again.
"Take these," he offered. "If you mix an equal portion of each into a cup of boiling water, it should stave off the evil growing within you. However, do not think that this is the remedy. It is just a temporary fix that will become less and less effective as time goes on."
Erik sighed, his arms wrapped around his stomach as if to comfort it. He stared at the pouches before him. "Thank you, Nadir," he muttered. There was no more fight left in him. It had been his own quest for knowledge that had been his ultimate undoing. He had to come to accept that.
He grasped the pouches gently and got, rather shakily, to his feet. He certainly didn't feel as hindered as he had on his way there, but he was nowhere near his full strength. Still, he would be fine for now. He moved carefully toward the door, grazing the edge of the white mask with his fingers to ensure it was still in place. It was.
"There is one favor I must ask in return of you, my friend," Nadir said before Erik had reached the door.
Erik looked over his shoulder, rather depressed. "Anything."
Nadir stood. A dark cloud seemed to hover over him. He moved in closer, carrying a somber attitude. "You must leave this place," he stated emotionlessly.
"What?" Erik asked in confusion.
"You cannot stay here," Nadir threatened coldly. "I cannot allow you to put my people in danger. If you are still in the country by tomorrow night, be assured that you will not see the following sunrise."
Erik paused then nodded comprehendingly. "I understand."
"Farewell, my friend."
Erik was about to walk out of the residence, but stopped before exiting. He turned back. "One last thing, Nadir. You mentioned that you had come across this…condition two previous times."
"Yes, that is correct." Nadir raised an eyebrow, curious to see where this was going.
"Whatever became of those two other cases, if you don't mind me asking?"
Nadir paused, hesitant to answer. There was a look of intense pity. "The evil became too strong and both ended in death. I'm sorry, my friend."
