"What in the Hell are you doing in my parlor?"

Erik turned away from the fireplace he'd been stoking for the past five minutes while Darius and Nadir ate a late supper in their kitchen. He had – as was his habit – entered without knocking through a locked door as though he had absolutely every right to be there. Apparently, he'd also been much quieter working with a dying fire than they had been eating and cleaning up their flatware. Now Nadir stood in the parlor wearing a pair of black slacks and a casual shirt the color of ancient bronze … like a statue that had been left out in the element for centuries. Erik thought it flattered the tone of Nadir's leathery skin.

"It is about time you noticed I was here." Erik greeted with false annoyance. "You are far less observant in your old age, Daroga. I might have slipped into the kitchen and slit your throat twenty times by now!"

Nadir opened his mouth, his face filling with outraged color. Yet he wound up only staring at Erik for a long moment, swallowing every rant and scolding he had been prepared to unleash. Finally he just sighed heavily and noisily, folding his arms across his chest.

"You must have some reason to be here." He grumbled. "Out with it."

Erik offered his old friend a rueful smile.

"What happened to all that self-righteous indignation?" he asked bitterly. "It used to be so easy to rile you up! Has your royal blood cooled so much?"

"Being angry at you takes up far too much energy, Erik." Nadir admitted, finally making his way a little warily towards him. "I give in. I am simply used to you. Now … what do you want?"

"Can you not even offer your old bosom buddy a –"

"Out with it!" Nadir finally snapped – although his heart didn't seem in it.

Erik frowned slightly. Although he'd finally gotten the rise out of the old policeman that he wanted; he was finally realizing how old and drawn Nadir was. He had spent the last several years trying to forget how damaged he was from his five years in prison. He had aged twenty years in five … and he was over sixty to boot. The combination was starting to catch up with the Daroga… and Erik felt unease fill him for the first time in a long while.

"Very well…" he gave in, sinking uninvited into one of the parlor chairs. "…Have you read this morning's paper?"

"Oh." Nadir scowled. "Yes, of course." His body was relaxing, and he sank into his own chair. He seemed mildly surprised that Erik had not taken his accustomed chair just to prove himself further annoying. "What about it?"

Erik fidgeted; a little anxious now that they had simply gotten to the crux of the matter.

"The Vicomte de Chagney is missing…" he announced. "His entire ship has been missing for over a week. It is presumed lost at sea."

Nadir leaned heavily back into his seat, looking at Erik uncertainly. He did not speak to Erik and Arabella as often as he would like. His health had been slowly but inexorably failing in his later years; and the trip to the house beyond the lake was too much on him as of late. It wasn't anything unprecedented for a man his age, of course. But when Darius was also his age and flat-out refused to deliver an invitation to the lair of the once dreaded Angel of Doom on behalf of his friend and Master … getting together was difficult. Erik and Arabella were far too content amongst their own company to make very many visits, and Nadir was loathe to intrude on them.

"How is Christine handling this news?" he asked suspiciously. Given Erik's obsession; he simply had to assume Erik was keeping a close eye on the diva.

"I have no idea. Not well from what Arabella told me initially."

"You…" Nadir sat forward with a disapproving scowl. "You have your own wife doing your dirty work now? That poor girl! Erik, what in the Hell is wrong with-"

"-It was not dirty work!" Erik interrupted – although he seemed less angry in his self-defense as he did desperate to be believed. "I bought Christine a single bouquet of roses and Arabella offered to deliver it to her dressing room for me! It was the only contact I have had with her since the masquerade! One bouquet to say I am so very sorry for so very much … to say goodbye one final time-"

"-Goodbye?" Nadir cut in sharply. "I thought you had already said your goodbyes?"

Erik took a moment to breathe in. It was a long, steadying breath.

"Yes." He admitted. "I did … but … but this was a real goodbye. I can never send her flowers again – not that I have since she left my house that night. It was to put the last of her behind me. Especially since Bella and I are leaving Paris… I will never even be able to applaud another performance! Especially now that Christine is taking a sabbatical in her grief!"

Nadir stared at Erik for so long that the darkly dressed gentleman shifted uncomfortably. Because he had not gotten so comfortable as to remove his cloak and hat, it was the first opportunity the Old Persian had to realize that Erik was not dressed entirely in immaculate white silk shirt and black evening suit. For some reason, he had decided to wear a very dark – but still not black – blood red waistcoat. It was not something completely out of sorts for most gentlemen. Many men – especially those who considered themselves fashionable dandies – liked to splash color into their wardrobe. But Nadir had never known Erik to do that in his own personal time. For some kind of performance - either as magician or Angel of Doom - yes. But on his own? Never.

"You … are leaving Paris?" he asked slowly in disbelief. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Since the day after the Masquerade." Erik admitted, bowing his head with a little shame. "This place … Christine … it has all proven too overwhelming. I want to take Bella far away from it all. Now, knowing Christine is suffering again as she did before I entered her life … the idea is a little more difficult. But I … I cannot back down now. I am so close to being free of Christine's innocent influence!"

Nadir rolled his eyes in disapproval; causing Erik to spread his hands out imploringly.

"I am admitting my faults and weaknesses to you!" he pressed. "Nadir, the reason I am here is because of her. Because you know I cannot simply leave when Christine is in such a state! But I cannot stay, either! I must leave! For myself, for Christine – and most of all for Arabella! But I cannot leave knowing no one is looking out for her!"

"So you have come to ask me to do so in your stead." Nadir stated; his face still twisted in displeasure. "It is not my place to watch out for a strange young woman – nor is it yours."

"Nadir…" Erik tried helplessly. "I am asking you – as a friend-"

"-As your friend?" Nadir demanded. "As your friend, I am telling you to let this go! I have done far too much as your friend!"

"But what harm could it do?" Erik insisted. "I only ask you keep an eye on her!"

Sighing, Nadir bent his head so that he could more easily massage his temples.

"I am too old for this nonsense." He muttered before lifting his eyes once more to the old fool across from him. "So are you, Erik. Christine will be all right. She is prima donna of the Paris Opera House! Her income is more than enough for a woman of such modest living to survive on. Her heart may be burdened just now – but I dare you to find someone whose heart is not tormented from time to time! She is young, absolutely beautiful, sings like a literal angel, and has much more strength now than she likely ever had before surviving your ardor!"

He lifted a finger at Erik to keep him from arguing.

"No!" he continued. "Enough, Erik! Enough! If you have not come here for some better reason than to keep an eye on Christine Daae; then you had better leave!"

Erik stared at Nadir for a long time; the emotions in his eyes so turbulent that Nadir could almost see the maelstrom forming in them. Still … he slowly subsided. He slumped back in his chair like a man beaten, his age suddenly apparent even through the mask that hid his hideous deformity.

"Yes…" he finally admitted, slowly gathering himself and attempting to lock the topic of Christine into some back room of his mind. "There was something else. I need you to help me in another respect - something I hope you will find far more enjoyable. You see… Arabella and I are going to be taking a holiday in the Camargue … before we move on to Trieste…"

"I still cannot believe that you are leaving Paris." Nadir admitted, when it seemed Erik was fumbling hard for the right words and deciding against many options. There was a bittersweet ache in his chest at the thought of his companion moving out of reach. Honestly … he did not have very many friends of his own. Life would be a bit lonelier without Erik and his sweet wife around. But … well … he and Erik were old men. Surely his life would not last a great many years longer – particularly not with his declining health – which had not been particularly good ever since the years he'd spent in prison. He would not regret Erik finally being able to find a happy life in another locale.

"Neither can I …" Erik breathed, looking broken and frightened for a moment. "But … Arabella…"

Slowly he sat up straighter, the very thought of his wife seeming to bolster him.

"She deserves more than the life I chose … and she wants to give me so much more! I think I can accept those things from her. Even if she does nothing but hold my hand as I reach for other things… I … I think I can do it, Nadir. I want to do it. For the first time in decades, I want a life among others - as long as she is one of them, of course!"

"That is good." Nadir acknowledged.

"Yes. And this holiday is only the beginning of a … a brand new life. I want to give Arabella something. Because something has been nagging at me for weeks on end now, and…"

"Erik, just spit it out!" Nadir complained. "I am not having my after dinner drink with you here. The scotch is far too expensive to share, and Bella would resent if I sent you home drunk!"

Erik glared at him, but not without humor.

"I told you that Bella is my wife …" he began – still speaking slowly. "…This is true. But it is not strictly legal. We have nothing to prove that we are married… I want to change that. I want her to feel like my wife… Like the title is more than something I call her to get away with … with…"

Erik lapsed into utterly embarrassed silence – and Nadir let him. After a moment he stood, walked over to his liquor cabinet, and pulled out two tumblers and a decanter of brandy. He poured a finger of alcohol into each, and then casually carried one to offer it to Erik. He was very careful to offer Erik the glass with much less alcohol in it. He had not lied about wanting to make sure Erik returned home sober.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked softly.

Erik took the offered drink with a grateful look and a mostly hidden smile.

"Oh … not much…" He chuckled tiredly. "Do you think you might take a short holiday in Saintes Maries de la Mur to support a friend?"