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Chapter 4- Recovery Time

He was young, probably five years younger than Erik, incredibly good-looking, and cocky as all hell. As the doctor arrogantly droned on about the specifics of the procedure, Erik was tempted to walk out of there, and indeed might have had the young Parisian not been one of France's top reconstructive surgeons. At first he couldn't help but feel a pinch of envy of the doctor's obvious handsome features, which only strengthened his desire to go through with the procedure.

He explained at length to the amnesiac that the damaged tissue on the right side of his face was in fact a congenital deformity, which for some reason provided Erik some relief, confirming what he had already suspected. He had not been the victim of some horrible accident, but had been born with this defect.

"So, in short, Mr. Windsor, the good news is that I'm reasonably sure that I can successfully reconstruct the right side of your face, but the bad news is that the procedure is quite costly." His green eyes avoided Erik's as he scanned the file before him. "I see here that you have no insurance, but we accept checks, major credit cards..."

Erik did not care for the smug look on the overpaid doctor's face, and would have gladly wiped it away with his fist. Instead, he patted the wad of bills inside his coat pocket. His hard-earned composer money would definitely cover the expense. Another flash of recall hit him, and he remembered there was even more money stashed away in a hidden safe inside his lair, although he had more than he needed with him. "Is cash acceptable?"

The night before

Nadir stopped at the door to the guest room to say goodnight and found his friend sitting before the mirror wistfully, unmasked, running his fingers gently along the rough ridges of the right side of his face.

"You don't have to go through with it."

Erik was unemotional, and his eyes stayed steadily on his own reflection. "I do, Nadir. Do you remember how everyone stared at my mask when we went shopping?"

With a frown, Nadir had to disagree. "I think what they were staring at were those awful Hawaiian shirts you were trying on."

"It was the mask, Nadir," he insisted, "and I hated it. I wanted to crawl into a hole…or worse…" He paused and turned to his friend. "Although I have no memory of it, I know that this face has brought me much misery." His gaze fell back to the mirror. "So if there is a way to correct this hideousness, I'm ready to do it. I want to look normal. I want the chance to live a normal life. Is that too much to ask?"

"Of course not. You deserve happiness, Erik."

Nodding slowly, Erik stood up and headed toward his bed. "Good night, my friend."

"Good night, Erik. Get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."


Nadir was not sure how much longer he would be able to take it. It had been two days since Erik's surgery, and bandaged and swollen, his friend had proved to be quite the baby about his aches and pains. Erik had reminded him of an ornery half-wrapped mummy. The doctor had already warned that it was to be expected during recovery time as with any surgery, and directed Nadir to bring Erik back to remove the stitches in seven days. As he placed the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, he once again heard an annoying little ding from Erik's bell.

He collected his patience, and taking a deep breath, Nadir poked his head into Erik's room, to find his irritable friend sitting up in bed with arms folded. "What is it now, Erik?"

"I'm hungry."

"But, you just had soup an hour ago," Nadir retorted.

"It was soup, Nadir, and not even very good soup."

Nadir's mouth dropped. "Well, excuse me if my cooking doesn't suit your palate, Erik. You are more than welcome to fix something for yourself!"

Dramatically Erik let himself fall back into a lying position, draping the back of his hand over his partially bandaged forehead. "I caaaan't. My head huurts," he whined. "Sooo…weak."

Rolling his eyes, he acquiesced. "What is it you are hungry for?"

Erik's deep blue eyes lit up, and he rose to a seating position. "Do you have any grapes and cheese?"

With a sigh, he replied, "I'll go check the refrigerator."

Five minutes later he returned with an attractive spread of fresh green grapes, with small cubes of cheese, and a row of crackers. He set the tray down in front of his insufferable patient, and Erik smiled up at him gratefully.

"Thank you, Daroga." Erik's eyes grew wide upon speaking that name. "Daroga! You were… a sheriff… in Iran!"

Nadir's face lit up at the recollection. "You remember me?"

"No," Erik told him blankly. "I only remember that I call you daroga."

"Oh." Slightly disappointed, Nadir turned to leave Erik with his food when the sound of a serious note in Erik's voice stopped him.

"Nadir?"

Turning to face him, he observed the solemn look on Erik's face. "We've been through a lot together, I know…and even though I cannot recall, I appreciate everything you are doing for me."

A warm smile curved at Nadir's lips. Erik was the closest thing he had to a son. He'd lost his own son, Reza nearly a decade ago, and Erik had helped to ease the young boy's pain. Now having Erik there with him in his flat, even though it was mostly annoying, there was some comfort in it. "That's what friends do, Erik. Now, eat," he told him, turning back toward the door.

A smile of mischief played at Erik's lips. "Nadir?"

This time he didn't bother to turn around. "Yes, Erik?"

"Will you feed them to me?"

Without answering, the olive-skinned man narrowed his eyes in anger, exiting the guest room, and slammed the door as he left.


"It is such a relief to be free from those stitches!" Erik exclaimed. He set a hand on his right cheek, amazed by the rounded smoothness of the flesh. The only indent he felt was the small single horizontal line next to his hairline. This, the doctor assured him would heal over nicely and would not be highly visible.

"It's a relief to see you not scratching."

"They were itchy…and they made me feel like Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein?" Nadir laughed, reaching for his wallet from the kitchen counter. "Don't flatter yourself!"

Erik held up the hand mirror to his face, observing the slightly swollen, bruised features, comparing one side of his face to the other. "Oh, it's not pretty to look at now, Nadir. But, just give me time. After the swelling has gone down completely, and the flesh has returned to a normal color…"

"Then you might look presentable," Nadir joked, observing his scruffy, discolored face.

Smiling, Erik replied. "Maybe even better than that."

"Right," Nadir agreed, moving toward the door. "Don't burn the flat down while I'm gone."

"Do you have to go?" Erik whined.

"We are in need of some groceries, Erik, and you are better off here. You aren't exactly pretty to look at just yet."

Erik hung his head. He understood the truth of Nadir's words, but still didn't like the idea of being left behind. "But, I'm sooooo booooored."

Nadir rolled his eyes. "Nonsense, Erik. Pick up a book…"

"But, I've read them all," he countered.

"Then turn on the television for Allah's sake!"

"But, Nadir, you know I detest the telly."

A frustrated sigh escaped Nadir, and his eyes bulged out angrily. "Turn on the computer, surf the web, play solitaire, compose, do something, anything!" He did not wait for Erik's response and quickly exited the flat. Having him there for nearly two weeks had drained every ounce of patience and understanding from his soul. He needed a break, even if it meant peforming the detested job of running out for groceries. After Erik was fully recovered, which he hoped would be very soon, Nadir would return to his job as a private investigator.

Erik exhaled an angry breath, and resisted the urge to take the lovely antique vase on Nadir's dining room table and throw it swiftly at the door. He roamed the flat aimlessly, pondering his options. Turn on the computer and surf the web. Erik hadn't had a clue on where to begin. Compose. Without his piano, what good would that do? Nadir had left a deck of cards on the kitchen counter Solitaire…bo-ring. He wandered out to the living room and eyed the detestable large screen television that occupied the better part of one wall. Television- it pollutes the mind. He'd always told Nadir as much, and when his friend had turned it on, he'd made a point of it to leave the room, so as not to subject himself to the mindless content of the ridiculously sized device. Erik turned away from it, openly rejecting it, as though it had feelings.

Bored. Bored. Bored. What else was there to do?

1 Hour Later

Erik barely heard Nadir walk in as his eyes stayed fastened to the large screen. Fascinated, he watched as the newscaster reported the weather.

"Erik? I could use a hand." Struggling with three bags of groceries, he was pleasantly surprised that his friend had taken an interest in the TV at last.

Erik gave Nadir the hand and told him to shush.

Setting the bags on the counter, Nadir ignored the rude gesture. "I need some help, Erik, with the groceries."

Hesitantly, Erik walked away from the living room, his eyes still glancing back toward the hypnotic screen. He made his way to the front door and retrieved the three other filled paper bags that were on the ground. After bundling them in his arms, he met Nadir in the kitchen.

Nadir took out the vegetables and placed them in a drawer in the refrigerator. "So you made peace with the television."

"I had no idea!" Quickly, Erik unloaded item after item from each bag. "It's been showing story after story of rape, murder, kidnappings. Just before the weather," he paused and looked to Nadir with wide eyes. "Did you know they report the weather?"

Unimpressed, Nadir took two cans from Erik's hands. "It's the news, Erik."

"It's all terrible news, Nadir. Not just here and in Paris, but all around the world. Did you know that they were showing a high speed car pursuit?" he asked, his voice full of excitement.

Nadir turned to the grocery bags. "It's life, Erik, and despite how they make it look, it isn't all bad."

Leaning against the counter, he shook his head in wonder. "There's a whole world out there that I've been hiding from for years."

Nodding, Nadir straightened out the dairy products on the shelf in the refrigerator to make some room. "This is true, my friend."

"Not anymore," he vowed. "Once I'm healed, Erik Windsor is not going to hole up in a cave any longer. No, I am going to go outdoors, talk to people, Nadir, I am going to live!"

"Yes, of course, Erik, but you will be careful with whom you speak, and about what you speak. You are still a wanted man…which reminds me, I have to reach Antoinette. I am sure she is wondering about you by now."

"Who is Antoinette?"

"Madame Giry is quite possibly the only other friend that you have. She has sacrificed much to protect you, and she deserves to know what has happened."

Erik searched his mind, but could not recall the name. "Of course," he said absently, his eyes straying again towards the television.

"I will e-mail her straightaway." He finished setting some eggs into the shelf basket, and when he looked for Erik, he found his friend planted once again in front of the television.


Approvingly, the doctor's eyes met the reconstructed profile of Erik's face. His fingers traced the area above the eyebrow, and pressed flatly on the smooth skin of his cheek, as he questioned how it felt. Admiring his handiwork, he was quite proud of himself this time. The results were better even than he had anticipated, and as always, his greatest gratification came from seeing the smile on Mr. Windsor's face.

"It looks good, Mr. Windsor. The bruising is almost completely gone, and you are ready to take on the world."

Not the world, Erik thought with an amused grin, not yetFor now, just Paris.

Erik was more than satisfied with the results, and though the surgery had cost an exorbitant amount of his composing money, he felt that it was worth every cent.