Disclaimer; I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hello all! My apologies for the lack of updates- I was on holiday and then, yesterday, I was in London watching...Phantom of the Opera! Such a brilliant show, the actor playing The Phantom was excellent. Anyways, enough of that irrelevant rambling...
This story is very nearly at its completion- if I stick to my plan, then we have 3 more chapters left (including this one), one of which is an Epilogue. Thank you to my lovely reviewers who always make me feel very happy; Filhound, PhantomLilac (times two ), Helena, TMara (times two ), BiancaR, You Are Love, angelicdamnation, TheStoryComesAlive, RosieLilyIce93, Hugabouv, grandma paula and Anna.
Reviews are always appreciated. And now, back over to Erik...
Thirty Seven- Look With Your Heart
(The Giry Residence, Paris)
The walls were glistening, the lake shimmering and moving as if the body of water were alive and pulsating with energy. Above, the thunderous pound of feet upon feet hurrying through the passages of the catacombs, hurrying to kill the monster, the Opera Ghost, the Phantom. Erik could feel his heart pounding within his chest, threatening to burst out with all the pent up anger, desperation and frustrated love for Christine, oh Christine, who despised him and stood facing him with only hatred burning in those lovely brown eyes.
He wanted to demand her reasoning- to ask her if she only ever considered what could be seen, what was on the surface. To ask her if she had any idea of the pain he had suffered through his life, or had she felt even a sliver of the anguish he suffered through daily? Did she know what it felt like to be damned to a cellar when you craved the light, beauty, freedom? To look upon your own face and feel disgust, repulsion, bitter rejection? To have never known the touch of a woman- to have never been kissed or held or spoken to with tenderness and adoration?! He hated it- this situation, how he felt so murderous and evil, but he had been stretched beyond reasonable limit. The burning fires of hell scorched his mind as he gestured again to the chamber below where Nadir- oh, the stupid fool- and her lily livered lover were huddled. He was damned- damned to spend a life in the dark, alone, and then to eternal anguish; he might as well seal that fate now.
"Christine? Grasshopper or scorpion? Erik...or death?!"
He almost wanted her to choose death, so that he could let the gunpowder end this suffering without regret; to explode into oblivion as carelessly as a couple meandering through the park on a summer Sunday. He willed her to pick that final escape, to seal all their fates. He stared into those wide, brown eyes of hers, those orbs that once had been filled with awe and amazement, now filled with hatred and disgust as she stared at him. Perhaps then Erik truly realised- fear would never turn to love. He would never be loved for himself. He was the Phantom and no woman on Earth would ever be able to love him and redeem him. In a way...he was already dead.
Erik awoke from the dream, or rather nightmare, with a muffled yell as he sprang up from the unfamiliar pillow, sheets sticking to him with sweat and fear. His breathing was ragged and gasping, his eyes wild as they searched frantically round the room as his brain tried to comprehend the situation- where was he? But as the panic began to ebb away, his frantic breathing slowing along with the erratic pound of his heart, Erik finally remembered where he was. He wiped the thin coating of sweat from his face, not lingering on the misshapen lumps of protruding flesh, impatiently batting the messy bed covers away from him as he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes again, forcing away the last clinging remnants of that hideous nightmare.
This was Antoinette's spare bedroom- yesterday he had gone storming through the muck of the city streets to the de Chagny townhouse. Yesterday he had brawled with Raoul, Christine had stabbed the fop and they had returned to the Giry household covered in blood, much to the distress of Antoinette and Nadir, who had decided to unleash his wrath despite Erik's exhaustion and emotional distress. Yesterday...yesterday Christine had told him that she loved him when looking upon his hideous, marred, repugnant mess of a face. Erik laughed aloud as he got out of the sweat stained bed, feeling the blood rush to his aching head with a low moan. He was obviously delusional, perhaps even completely insane- Christine would not have been able to look at his face; she definitely would not have been able to utter such perfect words to him at the same time. No woman, not even his own mother, had been able to complete such a tortuous task. As Erik dressed, a little unsteady on his feet after what had been a long time asleep, he found himself scrutinising the events that he could recall from yesterday; the longer he spent considering each memory, the less credible they seemed. Could Raoul really be dead? Could Christine have really been so pathetically pleased to be saved by him, the monster she had previously declined with disgust?
Erik reached for his flesh coloured mask and found that it was not there. His stomach clenched as he placed the comfortable white on his face and slammed the door of the bedroom on his way out, for clearly the memory of a crazed Raoul shooting his mask until all that remained was a few charred lumps of unrecognisable skin coloured rubbish was not a figment of his exhausted imagination. But to even fantasise that Christine had said she loved him- utter madness. Preposterous. Erik snarled a little to himself as he stalked down the empty corridor and hurried down the stairs, irritable and frustrated that he could have first suffered a nightmare, and was now suffering in the conscious state as his clearly dysfunctional mind played tricks on him. He wrenched open the door to the parlour and found no-one sat in the armchairs reading, or sitting at the little wooden desk writing a letter to some distant relation whom they never saw, so he spun on his heel and slammed that door too, already striding to the kitchen. Inside he found Antoinette and Nadir, just as he had wanted, and succeeded in making them both jump as he scraped a chair back across the floor, the wooden legs screeching in complaint.
Erik grimaced at the accusing stare of both Antoinette and Nadir with a low curse escaping his pursed lips, fighting not to turn his unexplainable bad mood onto either of them for simply existing. It wasn't their fault, after all, that his mind was playing tricks on him. By this point, Erik had convinced himself that the whole scenario had been conjured up by his restless mind during the nightmare.
"My, my, you're cheerful this morning." Nadir muttered darkly, newspaper rustling in an irritating fashion as he shifted in his seat, two narrowed eyes peering over the top of the crumpled paper straight at Erik. "Wouldn't you agree, Antoinette? His smile and positive glow simply lights up the kitchen- I feel warmer just to be in his presence!"
"Shut up, Khan!" Erik snarled, thumping his fists on the table with a satisfyingly loud crash. "I don't know why you have a death wish this morning, but if you are provoking me with the wish to end your miserable days lingering on this Earth like a bad smell, I would be all too happy to assist you without reason!"
"Erik! You didn't mean that, surely?" Antoinette snapped, chiding him as if he were a little boy throwing a childish tantrum. "And you, Nadir, stop teasing. He is probably very tired still, and it's not fair to irritate him."
"Hmph. The man gets the one thing he has desired his whole life after lamenting about her on a daily basis to me whilst playing various melancholy or suicidal operas, and now he wakes up and comes to greet us this morning in a foul mood, as if she had just slapped him and run off with another foolish fop." Nadir sounded sulky, shooting a glare at Erik. But Erik had frozen in his seat and did not retaliate, which served to annoy the Persian further.
So...the memories of yesterday, of a fight and Christine telling him that she loved him were not false recollections, dredged from a subconscious hope in sleep? Erik sat up straight in his chair and reached across the table to seize the badly creased newspaper, tearing it away from Nadir's startled grip so that he might look upon the Persian's face. Nadir looked honestly annoyed- this was no foolish jest or charade. He felt a slight blush at his stupidity burn on his cheeks, his bad mood rapidly dispersing and leaving an excitable, expectant joy in its wake. Nadir, seeing this change of mood and mentality merely through looking into the golden eyes of his distinctly odd friend, rolled his eyes and stopped trying to grab the newspaper back from him.
"What?" he demanded grouchily, making Antoinette stifle a low chuckle.
"Where is Christine then?" Erik asked, his voice clear and smooth, not at all the irritable snarl from just minutes beforehand. Nadir shook his head in disbelief. "Don't just sit there and gape at me- answer me! Did she go back to a hotel, or...or...did the Comtess take her to the south, perhaps? Don't laugh at me, Antoinette, just tell me where she is!"
"Erik, stop being so forceful and perhaps I will tell you where your daughter and her mother are." Nadir grunted, as if reluctant to release the information. Erik resented the patronising attitude of the Persian, bit appreciated his point in that he was being very rude. So, he calmed himself down and forced himself to be quiet, prepared to listen intently to whatever Nadir was going to tell him. He was already mentally preparing what to pack and how to travel when Nadir did start to speak, and was so unprepared for the answer he was given that he opened his mouth to speak and no sound came. He had been rendered speechless, gaping like a beached fish. "Christine is upstairs, asleep, in Antoinette's bedroom."
Antoinette gave Erik a small smile as she came to the table, carrying a fresh pot of tea and a plate of something warm and fresh. The bakery smell tickled Erik's nose but only made him feel nauseous, turning away as Nadir gladly took one of the pastries and wordlessly declining a steaming cup of tea that was offered to him.
His eyes involuntarily moved to look up, up at the faded ceiling that separated him, his Christine and his Erika. The family fantasy of the three of them, smiling madly together, returned at once to his already aching head and it seemed to swirl and mix with the nightmare and his bad mood from earlier, causing him to groan and bring his forehead down to meet the table. It felt as if his brain was filling up with so much; there was far too much to take in, to consider, to think about, and the headache that had threatened him earlier manifested itself with a merciless, throbbing stab which left him wanting to vomit. He felt someone's hand come to rest on his shoulder in a motherly gesture, so he forced his head up and off of the table to look at Antoinette, his eyes imploring her to help him, to tell him what to do, what to say, how to go into that bedroom and face Christine now that she had declared such a thing to him.
"Christine is in a very poorly state, Erik. Though I'm sure that you know that already." Antoinette told him in her calm, orderly manner. She always had been a collected figure, never one to panic or lose her head in times of distress or alarm. Perhaps that was why she had been so accepting of him when he had been the Phantom, or why he had come to rely so heavily upon her guidance and help. As well as bringing him books and food and other supplies he requested, Antoinette had brought answers to his questions and an insight into normality.
What is it like to have a lot of friends, Antoinette?, he had asked her one day when he was still very young- she, though still quite young herself, did not hesitate with her response, going on to tell him all about the ballerinas and the lessons they took and how they would gossip together, giggle together, follow the handsome stagehand around together. Erik recalled how he would ask the strangest of things to build his understanding of what normal people did in life- questions about family, or clothes, etiquette or customs, even how people spoke to one another or the divide of the social classes. Antoinette had given Erik the answer to every question without fail- valiantly researching if she did not know the answer and lying when the answer was too sad to give to the ragged boy with the wide, sorrowful eyes.
Even now, she was like an older sister when she spoke to him- carefully assessing his face to see whether he was upset, thinking over her words carefully so as not to distress him, using a gentle voice and motherly gestures to calm him down...if Nadir were to ever do such a thing, Erik would throttle him for being a patronising bigot. But when Antoinette treated him as if he were her younger brother, Erik felt loved.
"She has not been fed at all well in the de Chagny home and she is exhausted both physically and mentally. She has been asleep ever since she arrived here with you." Antoinette paused, reaching for the teapot to pour herself a steaming cup. "Nadir and I were just discussing her welfare when you came in. She will need a fair amount of time to rest and recuperate in bed, so cannot really be expected to travel far at all. She will need new clothes of every description, as will Erika, and even then we must be careful to ensure that in her weakened state she does not catch a chill or become infected with any other illnesses, which is far easier said than done."
"Then, of course, remains the matter that someone may want to find her- whether that be a de Chagny who knows that she didn't go to a convent and now wishes to get truth of the Comte and Vicomtes death from her or a money-seeking manager." Nadir sounded far less angry now he had eaten, sat back in his chair with a smug look of content that made Erik smile. "We will need to visit Monsieur Thiland at some point today anyway to thank him for all his help- he has ears in the aristocracy, so perhaps he can tell us what is occurring. Also I was intending to run several errands for Antoinette today- you can help me. "
"Errands?" Erik asked, brightening at the prospect of speaking with cheery Monsieur Thiland, who was bound to make him laugh at the very least. Perhaps they could dine together and discuss the future prospects for Erik's music- he could already feel, with a childish excitement, that soon love songs would be pouring from his ears. "Of what nature?"
"At the moment, the best plan we have been able to make is that once Christine is in a better state of health, both mentally and physically, we can go to Meg's home in Switzerland and stay there until everything has calmed down. This means that we need to purchase both everything needed to speed up Christine's recovery, and other things of a more basic nature, such as food." Nadir started to explain as Antoinette smiled at the mention of seeing her daughter and Henri again, who was bound to be well and truly causing chaos now. "Of course, once matters have calmed down in Paris you and Christine may wish to return there. Though Antoinette was saying that they have lovely houses in Switzerland if you wanted to live there, to build a new life without any Phantom memories lurking once you are married-"
"M-married?!" Erik suddenly exploded, turning from pale to crimson in the face in that split second, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, twitching in a slightly disturbing fashion. Nadir looked startled by his friend's outburst and Antoinette laid a restraining hand on Erik's arm, gasping a little in her shock. "Married, Khan? When did I suggest that I was intending to get married?! I was obviously not listening or conscious or even present when this decision was made for me! Where on Earth did you get that idea from?! Married!?"
Erik felt quite sick now, his tongue completely numb and his lips tingling, indicating that the blood had drained from his face with the shock of the situation. He knew, as he slumped back into the chair and let out a long sigh, exactly what Antoinette, and probably Nadir, were thinking. That he and Christine had a child so ought to be married- that because Christine had said that she was in love with him, it meant that they should march down an aisle and tie themselves to one another for eternity and more. But whenever Erik even thought of Christine in a wedding dress and veil he felt horrified, remembering his lunacy as he had tried to make her marry him once before, remembering the disgust and fear as she threw down the veil and sobbed into the white skirts. He couldn't imagine that she would want to tie herself to him for eternity. Just because she said she loved him...she might have not meant it, or perhaps she had been so overcome with starvation and exhaustion and gratitude for being saved that she had said the one thing she knew he would want to hear.
Erik couldn't imagine a life better than one married to Christine. But the thought of proposing such a thing and her accepting because she felt forced, or obliged, made Erik want to cry. As much as he wanted such a thing, as much as he craved the idea of being Christine Daae's lawful husband-!
"But...but Erik, surely you want to marry Christine?" Antoinette sounded distraught. "You have a child together- you love one another! Do you not want to be married?"
"I know full well what the problem is here and I am sorely tempted to drag him upstairs right now and propose to Christine on his behalf!" Nadir snapped, clearly annoyed by the turn of events. "Erik, before you start to wail on the floor that you're ugly and that Christine will never love you, please consider the things that have happened between you both. You have a daughter- a daughter made through, please forgive me Antoinette, your passionate love. She would have stayed with you that night had the chimp not carted her off back to his home to lock her away like the sadist he was. She has told you that she loves you- and before you say that she didn't mean it, read her letters again! It is clear that the woman is besotted with you, as you are with her. And, once again forgive me Antoinette, if Christine Daae can sleep with you Erik, I highly doubt that she will be disgusted by your appearance."
Erik stood up sharply, sending the chair skidding back a few inches with the force. He glowered at Nadir, his fists clenched, his face burning with humiliation and anger.
"I am going to talk to Christine." He snapped, his eyes flashing. "And before you ask, no, I am not going to propose to her right this very second, if at all! This matter is none of your business, Khan, and if you dare to meddle with such intimate matters again I will be exceedingly angry, for you have no place in something as personal as this! Do not plague me again!"
Antoinette watched as Erik stormed off, listening as he thundered up the stairs, and then turned to see Nadir muttering violently to himself, uttering obscene words that he would normally be most offended by. She smiled a little wryly to herself as she stirred the tea, considering the situation. Erik was right in saying that the matter of a proposal was a very personal thing, and Antoinette agreed that they should not pester him anymore. She was not the sort of person to be horrified by an unmarried couple with a child- Antoinette knew enough of the world to know that marriage did not always mean love, and to her mind it was far better to have a child when unmarried as a result of love than without love but married- but she still thought that Erik was wrong in not wanting to marry. She knew that he was scared of forcing Christine, and to her mind this was a foolish reason not to marry, for a proposal is an offer, not a threat.
Antoinette sighed as she sipped the warm liquid, Nadir's mutterings reaching a higher volume. She hated to think that Erik might not reach his well deserved happiness through his own fear, and prayed as she closed her eyes for a second that he would come to realise that he was a good man, and that Christine loved him.
Upstairs, on the silent corridor, Erik decided to stop fuming outside the closed door and to go inside, to speak with Christine. Nadir's attitude had angered him, and he now felt awkward to even simply inquire as to Christine's health, his mind stuck on the image of her in her veil throwing the bouquet to the floor with a sob of anger, hatred and fear. How could Nadir be so cruel as to accuse him of being a fool- Erik felt that he had good reason not to charge into the bedroom, throw himself down on one knee and beg her to become his wife. After all, she had turned him down once before by fleeing...he did not want to suffer such a feeling of rejection and hopelessness again.
Not bothering to knock, Erik took a deep breath and carefully eased open the door, expecting to see a sleeping Christine, her serene face like a sleeping angel's against the pillow. But instead, when he opened the door and took one silent step into the room, his pleasantly surprised eyes were met with a homely scene; Christine, sat up in the bed, cradling Erika as she spoke to the baby in a warm, happy voice. Erik could do little more than stand still and watch as Christine stroked the child's face, her own alight with a look of happiness and security he had never witnessed before- she had craved a child so much, and now Erik could see that Christine had flourished as a mother, as if destined to pour all her love and devotion into another human being. It made such sense, seeing her like that; Erik had always felt that Christine was a kind, devoted and caring young woman behind her mask of young ignorance and insecurity. She had always wanted parental figures, and now she had the power to give her own child the one thing she had always craved.
Erik turned, heading to leave as he didn't want to disturb her, but a floorboard creaked and she looked up. Erik felt dizzy at the look in her eyes as she saw him; they seemed to brighten, suddenly shining out into the room as they met him own, and a huge, beautiful smile stretched over her pale face.
"Erik!" she exclaimed, and Erika mewled a little and batted at the air above her with tiny clenched fists, her tiny little feet kicking upwards as if she were trying to swim. Erik felt a warm glow of content spread through him, and his feet began to move on their own. Before he knew it, he was perched on the end of Christine's bed, gazing down at their daughter before looking up at her again.
"Christine." He replied softly, in a tone of voice he had rarely ever used. Christine shivered a little at the adoration she could hear as he said her name, and she eagerly reached out with one hand to clutch at his, beaming at him still. "I...I, er...I wondered if you were feeling any better now? You certainly look it- there is pink in your cheeks again."
Christine flushed a little at his words without knowing why, sensing a prickling sensation of nervousness and hesitation in his words. Suddenly she felt awkward, unsure, her smile slipping a little as she saw Erik fidget uneasily. Knowing that he would feel better if occupied with something, she scooped up Erika into a little bundle and passed her gently over to Erik and settled back against the pillows, content to see his nerves fade away as he became engrossed with their daughter again, stroking her soft nose, tickling her little feet, singing a soft lullaby to her even though it was morning and she had only just awoken. Christine saw how Erik suited the role of being a father without trying- it was as if he had always been around children, and was a natural. Seeing his security and comfort in holding their child and being the father in comparison to how awkward he had been talking to her made Christine squirm a little, suddenly feeling very down cast. Was it Erika he had come to see? Whilst the love for Erika made Christine feel relieved, she also found herself craving a little of Erik's care and devotion to be offered towards herself.
"I do feel a little better. In fact, I was intending to get up and out of this bed but I think that Madame Giry might object- she has been very kind to me and is an excellent nurse." Christine said faintly.
"She loves you as if you were her own daughter- of course she will be kind and care for you." Erik smiled, lifting Erika above his head and grinning up at her, murmuring baby nonsense to her more for his own pleasure than Erika's. "I'm glad you feel better. You're right, though, in that Antoinette will object to your intentions to get out of bed. I was talking about your state of health with both her and Nadir just now, and she seems to want to keep you bed ridden until you are fully recovered."
"I have nothing to recover from." Christine muttered darkly, annoyed at the prospect of having to stay in bed for the foreseeable future. What was the point to such a futile existence? And what on Earth was she to do in bed all day? Erika would soon start to fuss if treated like a toy, and the thought of sitting and knitting for several hours every day like an invalid old woman made her want to scream.
"How can you say that?" Erik asked gently, suddenly serious. He put Erika in the basket serving as her bed and came to sit back on the bed, but this time as close to Christine as he could without accidently sitting on her. "You have suffered a terrible ordeal, Christine. Look- you are starved and pale and unhealthy. You slept for over a day, so you must be exhausted-"
"Erik." Christine cut him off with a firm look. "You cannot tell me that if you were ordered into such a ridiculous state of bed rest that you would agree without complaint."
Erik considered the question, remembering the Black Rose, and how he had disobeyed Nadir and his annoying demands to remain in bed. That had resulted in many arguments and to eventual consequence of Nadir's emotional goodbye, but Erik was not about to bring up such matters, not now when they had been laid to rest, the consequences dealt with. He reached again for Christine's hand and took it, blocking all thoughts of weddings and proposals and his own tears falling onto a discarded veil, on his knees in the lair.
"Christine, you are right, I would refuse. But I am not important- you are. You must rest and become well again, else I fear that I will inflict further verbal violence onto Nadir in my agitated state." He smiled as he said this, and Christine pulled a face and lightly prodded his arm, flopping back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. "Nadir and I are going to run some errands now, for Antoinette."
"Can't I join you? I would so love to get some fresh air!" she whined like a child, making Erik laugh at her as he stood up and went to the door, pausing with his hand resting on the door handle. "Well, whilst you are rushing about in the freezing cold of the wind, I will be warm and comfortable, with Erika in my arms."
"These errands will not take long; I am sure, for Nadir will moan if we remain in the cold for any length of time." Erik said with a wistful look towards Erika. "I will return soon, Christine."
Christine waited until he left the room before throwing her arms out and closing her eyes, laughing as she replayed with words, those sweet, sweet words over and over within her mind. He seemed so hesitant and unsure, as if he doubted that her affection was true- unless he did not love her in that way she had assumed he meant it. But that simple promise, the anticipation of his return to sit and talk the hours away, perhaps listening to him sing to Erika or to have him tell her funny tales of his past with Nadir...Christine reached out and scooped Erika up again, cradling her close.
"Your father is wonderful, Erika." She told the baby solemnly. "And I do hope that he loves me, for I love him with all my heart."
The baby gurgled and mewled again, kicking at the air with her tiny baby feet, and Christine relaxed back into the role of mother, content to wait until Erik came home, feeling very domestic at the prospect indeed.
As Christine lay in bed with Erika in her arms, Erik and Nadir walked in stony silence through the biting wind that was whipping through the streets of the city, bowing their heads in submission as they tried to avoid the icy sting that was turning their faces red and numb. Erik gritted his teeth, his jaw aching with the cold, and on turning to look at Nadir his friend was suffering the same. Still, he would not suggest a carriage, for he did not want to speak to Nadir at all after the earlier outburst. Though his anger was uncalled for and his grudge childish, Erik knew that he would only make matters worse if Nadir tried to discuss it again, for he would get angry and say things that he did not mean, making the situation even more unpleasant. As it was, the chill of the wind that foreshadowed the cold winter that would soon follow was a far easier thing to brave than the argument he knew would ensue between Nadir and himself. Erik pulled his hat down lower and his scarf up higher, concealing the white of his mask with the many layers. It was risky, venturing out with his infamous old mask upon his face, but he had covered it up sufficiently- so he hoped.
The streets were, as ever, full of people and life. The market stalls were still brimming with brightly coloured produce, the owners shouting over one another to sell their wares to the Parisian's daring to brave the biting wind, and for once Nadir did not stop at every single stall to chat to the owner for half an hour each, debating the price or discussing the benefits of such a product with no intention to buy. It was a habit Erik hated, and loathed shopping with Nadir because of it, but he found himself almost longing for Nadir to start up a heated conversation with the man selling half-dead flowers. After feeling so awkward with Christine, he was starting to worry that he had managed to systematically destroy his relationship with everyone, and was desperate for some confirmation that things were unchanged. This confirmation did not come from the sulky Nadir, who dragged his feet and muttered under his breath, but from the overzealous, grinning, hyperactive Monsieur Thiland at the Opera Populaire, who luckily happened to be in the foyer as they entered, saving them the hassle of persuading one of the frantic footmen to find the cheerful manager.
"Erik! My dear Erik, how good it is to see you again!" Thiland cried, dashing across the foyer to greet them, causing the few footmen and cleaners to stare in confusion at their manager embracing the man who had just walked in from the street, with a hat low over his face and a scarf pulled up well over his nose, only exposing his eyes and resembling a mugger or thief. "Come come, to my office; let us talk in some privacy, eh? You too, Monsieur Khan! You both look chilled to the bone- why on Earth didn't you hire a carriage?"
Erik and Nadir were silent, all the noise and babble coming from Thiland, who practically danced down the corridor, seeming in a happier mood than normal, alarming even Erik at his joyous state. However, once inside the little office, Thiland bolted the door and his face fell into a grave, solemn expression, his voice nearly monotone as he ushered them to seats. Before Erik could even enquire as to the sudden mood swing, Thiland had thrown a paper down before them and had fixed them both with a hard stare.
"Erik, what do you think you're doing man?!" Thiland demanded angrily, pointing to the headline of the newspaper; 'Vicomte de Chagny found dead in home- suspicion mounts as police consider the murder of father and son'. "Why aren't you and your companions on the first carriage out of Paris?! Do you even know the gravity of this situation?! The police suspect that the deaths of the Comte and Vicomte are linked- and of course they are, for you killed them both! Do you know what will happen if they find that it was you who killed them? You'll be hanged. Hanged! All you worked for, all that changing from Phantom to being a good man, will be wasted!"
"But no-one would have evidence to link the murders to me." Erik said in a shocked voice, alarmed by the gravity of the situation. He hadn't even thought that it would be a problem- but of course! Raoul had been left in the servants quarters, dead and laying in his own blood! Of course there would be uproar.
"Erik, you fool, how can you know such a thing?!" Thiland demanded, and Nadir began to nod. "Who knows if the Comte or Vicomte told someone about their plans to kill you- they would suspect you of killing them if they knew of the whole plot, wouldn't they?!"
"And what if they 'persuade' the Comtess to talk?" Nadir added in an agitated voice, sounding genuinely worried. "Erik, anyone that the Comte or Vicomte trusted could know the truth. Or a servant could have witnessed something, overheard a conversation...you're not safe in Paris, not until this has all blown. Dear God, to think, we didn't even consider this! The things that could have happened-!"
Thiland passed the paper to Nadir, and rummaged through a drawer in the huge oak desk for a scrap of paper, which he then proceeded to scribble an address upon.
"This is my home address; I have eyes and ears in the aristocracy, Erik, I can help you if you will let me. If I hear anything, I will let you know, but you must write to me first so I can know where to send the information to." Thiland looked stern again, like a father warning a child who has just acted very recklessly. "You understand that you are going to have to leave Paris, don't you Erik?"
"But Christine is not well enough to travel." Erik whispered, more to himself than to Thiland or to Nadir, who was not chewing on his fingernails nervously. "But we will have to leave. You are right; we have been foolish. Monsieur Thiland, you have been so helpful, I can never thank you enough-"
"Nonsense." The opera manager shook his head resolutely. "Just keep writing more music, Erik, and send it to that address so that I might publish it for you. You have great talent, and I am anxious that you should continue to achieve the successes you so deserve."
Erik looked down at his hands. They were going to have to leave Paris, maybe forever- looking around him at the office interior, considering that he might never see his home for so long, the Opera Populaire of Paris, ever again...Erik was suddenly hit with the realisation that there was something that he must do before he left the Opera Populaire forever. It filled him with nerves to think it, and he still loathed the thought of forcing her but-
"Monsieur Thiland, I need you to help me. There is one last thing I must do in the Populaire before I leave Paris."
And as Erik explained his request, Nadir Khan felt a smug smile seep over his face, content that Erik was finally acting rationally. Monsieur Thiland smiled after Erik had finished explaining, and as he reached out to shake Erik's hand there was a hint of his former excitable persona visible in his eyes, which were sparkling with anticipation.
"Erik, consider it done."