Paris, March 1881

"Mademoiselle?"

Lisette jumped as she woke, nearly knocking over a pile of manuscript papers. The man from the previous evening stood behind her, dressed in fresh clothes and the ink and blood washed from his face. "I'm sorry to wake you. The fever's not gone, but it's better. He's been in and out of consciousness for the last few hours."

Lisette yawned, hearing her back crack as she stretched her limbs from her awkward position at the organ. "What time is it?"

"Nearly three o'clock in the afternoon."

She gaped at him. "My god, I was asleep that long?"

The man shook his head. "You've been working nonstop since last night. I reckon you barely slept more than an hour! What have you been doing all of this time?"

Lisette glanced at the sheets of manuscript paper spread over the top of the organ. "It doesn't matter. I can take over now so you can get some rest."

"I would change if I were you," the man said, pointing out she was still in her blood stained dress from last night.

"I'll just be a moment," she said, running into the sitting room. She threw her dress and Erik's discarded clothes into the fire before running a bath in the adjoining bathroom. She meticulously scrubbed away any remaining traces of blood from her hair and under her fingernails. When she changed and felt clean once more, she went to the bedroom where she found Erik quite unchanged from the previous evening. The man rose from Erik's bedside. Now that she was clean and all dirt and blood was wiped away, she was aware that her scar stood out against her face. Since she had moved into the underground home, she had made an effort to not hide it with powder to show her alliance with Erik to encourage no mask wearing. However, the man's eyes did not linger on her scar as others did when she caught them looking. Instead, his eyes widened with understanding.

"There's an ottoman and blankets in the sitting room," Lisette said. "Did you clean his wound?"

"No," the man said. "I didn't want to risk more bleeding."

She nodded. "I understand, monsieur. Please rest. I'll let you know if he wakes."

After the man left, Lisette knelt by Erik's bedside. He was still sleeping, fitfully making faces while his hands clenched and unclenched. His mask was pressing awkwardly into his face, creating unsightly marks on his right cheek and forehead. Taking a deep breath, she gently removed the mask, looking over her shoulder to make sure the strange man couldn't see what she was doing. She placed it carefully on the side table before picking up a fresh roll of gauze and the bottle of vodka.

He was still bare chested except for the bandages on his midsection. Now that she was alone with him for the first time since the incident happened, she had to control herself from reaching out and touching him. She had never imagined him to be so well built and quickly shifted her gaze to the unblemished side of his face. He wasn't what she would have classified as handsome, but he certainly wasn't bad looking either. The right side of his face did not deter from his appearance, but rather enhanced it. This was one of the first times Lisette had truly been able to look at Erik's deformity and she couldn't understand society's rejection of him.

She gently began unwrapping the bandages on his chest when a weak voice said, "Lisette?"

Erik's eyes fluttered open, clearly still fighting the fever that was wreaking havoc on his body. Lisette gently laid a hand on his arm. "I'm here, Erik."

"I tried…" Erik said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I tried to get the bastard."

"Shh," Lisette said. "Save your strength. I need to clean your wound and put on fresh gauze."

She did her best to ignore his hiss of pain as she poured vodka over the fresh stitches. He was watching her carefully as she had him sit up and rolled the gauze around his midsection. As if awakened from a daze, his hand flew to his exposed right cheek.

"My mask!" he cried. "Where is it?"

"Damn your mask," she growled. "You have a fever, erik, and it will only make things worse. It's only me!"

"It's not just you here," Erik replied, grunting as he shifted position in the bed. Lisette let out a sigh of frustration as she watched fresh blood begin to stain the new gauze.

"Lie down," Lisette commanded. "And be still! You're only making things worse."

"Someone else is here," Erik said, not letting her change the topic.

She let out another sigh. "Yes, someone else is here, but do not ask me his name because I do not know. But Madame Giry seems to trust him."

"She was here?" Erik asked.

"Yes," Lisette answered. "You were in very bad shape last night, Erik, and I was grateful for the help I received. I don't know what I would have done if I had discovered you on my own."

A change came over Erik, as he seemed to withdraw from her. He glanced at his wound, gingerly placing a hand on the fresh bandages.

"Would you like me to let your guest know you're awake?" she asked.

"He's hardly a guest," Erik muttered, but he nodded at his mask lying on the nearby table, confirming his answer. She brought it to him and tried to hide her disappointment as he slipped it over his face.

"I'll make some soup," she said. "I'm sure you're starving, and I don't think anyone's had anything to eat all day. It will give you two time to talk."

She could hear Erik muttering under his breath as she went to fetch the man to let him know Erik was awake. As she prepared a meal for them, she could hear Erik's voice rising and falling in anger while the man's remained calm and collected. She added anything she could find to the broth simmering on the stove to help Erik regain his strength. Lentils, potatoes, barley, chicken, and handfuls of greens were generously added until the large pot was nearly overflowing. She set the lid on the top to let it simmer before tiptoeing to the drawing room.

Her manuscript was still lying on the organ after her nearly sleepless night. Something about finding Erik so helpless and deathlike had sparked an unknown feeling within her. She had reflected on how short life truly was, thinking of how Armel was taken from her in the blink of an eye. With Erik, it could be the same. This revelation had made the music of Don Juan pour from her ears as they moved Erik last night. But the music coursing through her body was not the music she had been previously notating for Erik, but rather music that demanded to be written down and not forgotten. She had finally understood Erik's relationship with music as a composer that evening. With no ink to write with, Lisette had to resort to using lead to write down the mass amount of music that was pouring out of her. Lead was still underneath her fingertips even after her bath as she picked up the many pages to analyze.

She had done it. She had written the entirety of Act IV for Don Juan Triumphant. Erik's opera was now complete.

As the soup simmered and the man talked in the nearby room, she collected the hundreds of pages shared between Erik and herself, carefully numbering each individual page before tying them all together with a piece of twine. She wasn't sure how Erik would feel knowing this great project was finished, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face.

Carefully balancing three bowls of soup, a loaf of bread, and a large bottle of wine, she made her way back to the bedroom. The two men took the bowls gratefully and they all ate heartily, hardly saying a word between them as they satisfied their hunger.

"Lisette," Erik said at last when his bowl was empty, "This is Nadir Khan, an old acquaintance from my days in Persia."

The man, Nadir, nodded at Lisette. "I should have introduced myself formally last night, Mademoiselle Geiger. I assure you, I had no idea what an asset you are to Erik."

Lisette glanced at Erik, who rolled his eyes at Nadir's statement. "Nadir, unfortunately, has been poking around in my business the last few days. He's come to warn me that I'm being tracked."

She glanced at Nadir, who pursed his lips at the accusation.

"Erik had grown quite popular in society's gossip," Nadir said. "I came to Paris knowing Erik was here to escape the wrath of the sultana. But upon arriving, I immediately heard rumors of the chandelier being dropped at the Palais Garnier by the Opera Ghost. I immediately knew Erik was here."

"But how did you know Erik is being followed?" Lisette asked, ignoring Erik's icy stare. It was clear he wanted Nadir to leave.

"Being foreign is an attractive quality," Nadir said, a smirk on his lips. "Especially one who wears the latest Parisian fashions. I'm afraid I've become something of a pet to a handful of socialites. It was at their parties that I first heard someone was coming after Erik."

"Who?" Lisette asked.

"There's no definitive proof," Nadir said. "But I can swear on my grave that the rumors were started by the Comte de Chagny."

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