Hi everybody, thank you all once again for reading, for putting on alert, for adding to favorites, and most of all, for reviewing! I cannot repeat often enough how much your support means to me! I am glad you guys enjoyed seeing Nadir and Giovanni both included in this story, and I hope you will enjoy this new chapter as well, even though there is no E&C this time. Next chapter, I promise!

And of course I still don't own anything or anybody, nothing new in that regard... :-(

Chapter 21 – Reactions

Nadir Khan was very pleased with himself. This had gone really well. He had been able to convey the letters to the former ballet mistress without drawing undue attention from passers-bye. Of course he would have to think of a way of making the lady's acquaintance now, he most certainly could not expect to repeat that action the next time that impossible boy asked him to play postman for him.

Nadir sighed. Erik! It seemed he had been wrong about him after all. When the large envelope had arrived the previous day, he had at first been reluctant to open it. He had been equally reluctant, though, to destroy its content unread. He had put it aside for the time being, putting off any decision regarding that voluminous letter for the moment. He had been peacefully slurping his afternoon mocca, avoiding to think of what to do with this unexpected lifesign from his masked acquaintance, when his servant Darius had entered the room.

Darius had politely asked if Nadir desired any more coffee, then he had uneasily fidgeted, his eyes casting a nervous glance at the desk, where the letter was still lying unopened. "If I may be so bold to ask," he had finally stammered, "is Master Erik well?"

Nadir had stared at him furiously. "Don't you dare mention that name in this house ever again!" he had spat at his innocent servant. "You know pretty well that I cut all connections with that liar when he broke his promise to me not to kill ever again." He had laughed, a bitter, unhappy laugh. "That man is rotten to the core!" he had added, more saddened, than angry. "Not only has he killed once, but twice, since he made that promise, he also managed to burn down the Opéra Populaire, thus injuring dozens of innocent people and making over a hundred others lose their employment."

Darius had coughed to get his master's attention. "Maybe he is not as guilty as it seems, master," Darius had dared to remark. "Surely, if he were as bad as you think, he would not … I mean, would it not be preposterous to write to you in that case? Maybe in this letter he is trying to explain things to you, or asking your forgiveness or something like that."

Nadir had finally relented and opened the letter. He immediately had noticed that there was a second envelope enclosed, addressed to Mme. Antoinette Giry by a handwriting unknown to him. His curiosity had been piqued. He knew that Mme. Giry was Erik's only other friend in Paris. But who was sending that letter to her, and why did that person not send it directly? His eyes had widened even more, when he had unfolded the letter addressed to him and noticed that a few lines at the bottom of the page had been scribbled in the same unfamiliar handwriting he had seen on the envelope for Mme. Giry, and those few lines were signed with the last name he had expected to find in a letter coming from Erik, Christine Daaé.

He had read those last few lines first. "Please, please, Monsieur," the young soprano, who Nadir had believed to fear and abhor Erik, had written, "do believe me, when I tell you that I am with Erik of my own free will. He is not as bad as you might think, since most of what happened was my fault as much as his. And please be so kind and relay our letters to Mme. Giry, she will be so worried about us both! Your eternally grateful Christine Daaé."

He had frowned then. These lines not only made it clear that the girl was with Erik, it also implied that they were not in Paris, had probably left together, and that they somehow wanted to contact Mme. Giry but for one reason or another did not think writing to her directly was such a good idea. "It probably is not," he had murmured, remembering that Mme. Giry had always been suspected of having a certain connection with the Opera Ghost. "But where is that man, and why on earth is that girl with him?"

A glance at the post stamp had answered the first question, but finding out about the rest had required reading the entire letter. Nadir still remembered how utterly relieved he had been afterwards. True, there had still been a whole lot of disturbing information in it, but Erik seemed to understand now how wrong he had been in his misguided attempts to force his former student to love him. He had not tried to justify his actions, he had not even asked Nadir to forgive him for having broken his promise never to kill again.

"You are rightfully angry with me," Erik had written, "and I do not deserve your forgiveness for what I have done, and if it were just me needing your help, I would never dare approaching you, but this is about two ladies, who mean the world to me. It is for their sake, that I am writing to you..." Then he had explained his current situation, and how Christine had practically forced him to allow her to follow him to Brussels. "You see, Christine wants to make sure Antoinette does not have to worry about us, and just like her, I know that Antoinette, who is like a sister to me, is anxiously waiting for news from both of us. Since her mail may be under surveillance, you are my only hope of contacting her..."

Nadir smiled as he remembered how uplifting it had been to read Erik's letter. His faith in Erik had not been misplaced after all! The man was clearly developing a conscience and was beginning to deal with the consequences of his previous actions. "There is hope for him after all," he mumbled, "especially with that brave girl at his side..."

Nadir had never met Christine, he only knew about her what he had learned from either Erik or from the papers, but to judge from the few lines she had added to the letter and from the way how Erik described she had insisted on accompanying him, Nadir had no doubt that no matter how unusual the circumstances of their meeting and relationship had been, no matter how scared she once had been of Erik, that little diva had obviously discovered the man behind the mask, the real one, the one that Nadir had always worked so hard to bring to the fore, and her presence was obviously a very positive influence on his young friend.

"She must truly love him," Nadir whispered, grinning happily. He had a feeling he need not worry about his young friend any longer. All he had to do now, was to make sure Erik and his so-called cousin could correspond regularly with their other ally. "And in doing so, they will hopefully drop me a line or two as well." The world was suddenly such a beautiful place in Nadir's opinion.

Xxxx

Mme. Giry had serious troubles concentrating during her meeting. She contented herself with listening to everybody else's opinion, leaving her own questions for the next meeting. As important as it was to make sure there would be a larger rehearsal room for her ballet rats in the new building, this really could wait. They were still discussing the cleaning up of the ruins and which mason best to put in charge of the renovation.

Once the meeting was over, Mme. Giry hurried home. She could not wait to read Christine's letter, to learn how she and Erik had found each other in Brussels and where they were staying. For at least she knew now that her two charges were together. Even if the old Persian had not assured her that the two were fine, she would have known that they had met each other as planned, for without Erik, Christine would never have known that man's address and thus sent her a letter through him.

Meg greeted her with a look of disappointment on her pretty face. "No news, maman," she almost sobbed. "Again nothing from them."

Mme. Giry pulled her daughter into the parlor, forced her into a chair and sat down next to her, slowly opening her folder and taking out the large envelope.

Meg's eyes widened, as she recognized her friend's handwriting. "From Christine!" she whispered excitedly. "Where did you get that, maman? There is no stamp on it?"

Mme. Giry quickly explained to her daughter, how an oriental looking gentleman, who must be Erik's acquaintance that he had once mentioned to her, had pretended that she had dropped something and had practically forced the letter into her hands. "He said they are fine," she ended her story, "so I assume Erik has told him everything and he probably knows all that those two misguided children have written to us in that letter."

Meg grinned. Although she agreed with her mother to refer to Erik as "misguided" - even though he had behaved fairly normally during his brief stay at their house, he was the infamous Opera Ghost after all, who had burned down the building in a jealous rage – the latter's use of that word for Christine did not meet with Meg's approval. Of course what her friend had done was not entirely appropriate, but what else should Christine have done? What other chance had she really had to save her already fragile relationship with Erik, to win back his trust, now that she had finally realized and accepted that it was him she wanted, not the Vicomte?

Mme. Giry was way too busy opening the envelope to notice her daughter's amusement. Two letters fell out. She smiled as she noticed that Erik's letter, too, was written in normal, black ink, not in his favorite red one. She grabbed his letter first. "Let's see what he has to say about allowing Christine to follow him," she said sternly, handing Christine's letter to Meg. "You are more interested in Christine's letter anyway, I guess," she commented, "therefore I will allow you to read it while I find out how Erik justifies this inappropriate arrangement."

Meg grinned. She knew that deep down her mother was far too relieved to know that Christine was safe under Erik's protection to hold a grudge with either of them any longer. She quickly grabbed Christine's letter and began to read.

Christine only briefly mentioned her long train ride, but enthusiastically related that Erik had been waiting for her at the station as planned and that they had had no trouble whatsoever renting a small apartment from a friendly lady. "She did believe our tale of being cousins," Christine wrote, "and she has been showing me around the neighborhood, pointing out where I could get groceries and other supplies. Erik and I will be fine. I still have most of my savings and Erik has some of the money left that you gave him..." Meg had to remind herself that this letter was not written to her, but to her mother. "So we won't need anything for a while, but of course we are both trying to find work. Erik is convinced that I will be able to join the choir of the local Opéra de la Monnaie. They will be holding auditions for the fall season soon and I will apply then. Erik will try to sell his brilliant designs to a local architect or skilled mason..."

Meg barely suppressed a giggle when she reached the last paragraph. "I know you will not approve of my decision to follow Erik, but I could not risk losing him again. If it is of any comfort to you, we are sleeping in different rooms here, so our stay here is in no ways more inappropriate than it was when I spent the night at his home after my debut performance. I hope you know that my honor is safe with my Angel."

Mme. Giry put her letter down. "Erik only briefly mentions how he met Christine at the station and how they found accommodation," she informed Meg. "He probably assumes that all that is in Christine's letter." As Meg nodded her agreement, she continued, "most of his letter is an attempt to convince me that he could not have stopped Christine from following him, and asking me to forgive him for having taken the only logical approach to that problem, by making sure, she would at least be safe once she arrived in Brussels."

Meg nodded again. "They need to be together," she dared express her opinion. "They need to sort out their problems, and to learn to trust each other again. They are both deeply in love, but they have also hurt each other so badly. They both deserve this chance to try and repair whatever is left of their complicated relationship,"

Mme. Giry gave her a surprised look. "When have you become so wise, my Meg?" she asked.

Xxxx

"There is a letter for you, master," the young apprentice Francesco announced, dropping an envelope on his boss's desk. "From abroad..."

Giovanni looked up from his accounting work and frowned at the boy. "From abroad?" he asked. He did not know anybody outside of Italy that would write him a letter. He curiously eyed the envelope the apprentice had just delivered to him. There was no mistake. It was clearly addressed to him, but the stamp was foreign, the letter had come from – Brussels?

Giovanni turned the envelope to see if there was a return address on it, then drew a deep breath. The sender's name read "Antoinette Chenet", and while he did not know any Antoinette, Chenet or otherwise, he definitely recognized that last name. It was forever seared into his brain. Chenet had been the name of that unfortunate boy, that talented genius, that soul starving for love, that innocent reason for Luciana's violent death.

"Erik," he whispered. He had no doubts anymore that this letter would contain news about him. Would he finally be able to get in touch with that boy again, that he had almost loved like a son, that he had taught and whose talent he had nourished, that he had hoped to help find his place in the world despite his handicap? How many hours had he spent trying to find out where the boy had gone after... that day. How many avenues had he explored trying to find the boy, so that he could tell him that it was not his fault, that he did not blame him for what had happened, that on that terrible day, Giovanni had lost more than one beloved person. But all his attempts had been in vain. No matter what he had done, no matter who he had employed to find out the whereabouts of his former apprentice, Erik had seemed to have disappeared from the surface of the earth.

And now, after all these years, did he dare hope that this letter might possibly be somehow connected to his lost apprentice, the one he would have gladly seen married to his beloved Luciana, if only the latter had been strong enough to accept the boy's artistic, beautiful soul despite his ugly, deformed face?

Giovanni nervously tore open the envelope. Maybe this Antoinette was a relative of Erik's. True, the boy had told him then, that he had no family, but maybe things had changed? Maybe he had been reunited with a different branch of his family and those were able to appreciate him? Or maybe... Giovanni's heart beat fast in excitement. Maybe this Antoinette was Erik's wife. Maybe the boy had found a woman stronger than his Luciana, one that could see past his face and love him for his many qualities?

He eagerly began to read. At first he felt confused and attributed this to the fact that the letter was written in French, a language he was not too fluent in. Then he began to realize that his problems to grasp this whole complicated affair had nothing to do with his poor knowledge of French. The situation described in that letter was simply too unusual. The first thing this lady told him was that her name was not really Antoinette Chenet, but that for reasons of her own that would be too complicated to mention in this letter, she had assumed this identity for the time being. She hinted at the fact that she did not want to be found by a former suitor. Her real first name was Christine. She had taken on the last name of Chenet because she knew Erik, who had been her teacher at one point, and whom she held in high esteem.

Giovanni smiled as he read those lines. That woman did not mention it in so many words, but from the way she spoke about Erik, he suspected that she cared for the deformed man much more than she let on. How wonderful, if Erik could find love after all!

Giovanni read on. The woman mentioned having met Erik years ago in Paris, but stressed that she now lived in Brussels. Giovanni frowned. She did not say whether or not Erik was with her. Had he been mistaken about her feelings for the boy, or... had things not worked out between them? Had that stubborn man been unable to accept love when it was offered to him?

He read on. "And now I have heard that Erik is trying to find employment with an architect or mason, doing sketches and drawings, which is work he could do from home. He has been travelling a lot, and has had many occasional jobs, but he has not really worked for a company for any length of time. Except yours. I just remembered that he once told me about his time as your apprentice. I sincerely hope that you do not blame him for the tragedy that has befallen your family during his stay with you. Erik is still haunted by that memory. And as a daughter, who still misses her dear father even more than ten years after his death, I am sure, that your dear, unfortunate Luciana, if she could talk to you now, would ask you not to blame Erik for her fate, that she would tell you that he had wanted to protect her from a view he knew she would not be strong enough to bear, and that she would be joining her pleas with mine. Please, Signor Giovanni, if you ever valued Erik, send me a letter of recommendation that I could forward to him. I am sure that such a letter would greatly facilitate Erik's attempts at finding work in his chosen profession."

Giovanni jumped to his feet and began pacing his office. "Erik!" he mumbled. "A trace at last! A chance of finding you again, you stubborn boy! That woman must know where he is, all I need to do is contact her and ask for Erik's address!" Then he hesitated. That sounded too easy. Surely if she wanted to give him Erik's address she would have asked him to send that letter of recommendation directly to Erik?

"That situation is apparently more complex than this Christine lets on," he finally decided. "So I have to be careful. She does not seem to trust me... "

He suddenly beamed. "Yes!" he mumbled to himself. "That's how I'll proceed. I'll send her the requested recommendation, Heaven knows, the boy does deserve it, and I'll ask her to pass on my regards to Erik – and my love. And if that does not convince her – or Erik – that I am no threat to him and that they can reveal his address to me without having to fear murder charges because of Luciana, or whatever else it is they fear, then I might have to go to Brussels and talk to that lady myself..."