Erik was reading his medical books for a long time that night, he was searching for each and any possibility he could find and consider, refreshing all his knowledge needed for the possible hard procedure he was considering. Slowly dawn found him, still reading, as the lamp was still lit next to him. He did not even realize he did not need it any longer, even though he was really against wasting anything, and would argue enough with the children about always leaving the lights on, or not properly closing taps. He would sometimes scold Christine indirectly, about buying so many clothes to the children as well, spoiling them.

- In our times, sure we were chased around the table if we had no three jackets and four pair of trousers to wear one single day, eh? Again, you have so many clothes and you don't pack half of them normally. They are on the floor, or on chairs, are they? In my childhood I had a single pair of shoes, only worn when I was to leave the house!

- You told me you weren't allowed to leave the house, Papa. – Noel corrected, as always, because Noel was always there to argue, only to receive another mountain speech from his father.

- I was, when Mother needed a man around the house! Of course, it was me she could send to get in water or chop firewood! You have running water in the house and you just keep going on like spoiled little princes. You would deserve to be taken to a cottage in Russia, in the middle of the huge snow field with no plumbing and gas and literally nothing! That, my son, would teach you all how not to waste and how to take care of yourselves, for sure.

Of course, he never a hundred percent meant what he was talking about. He just felt he was more powerful in his children's eyes if he was scolding them from time to time. As he noticed he was wasting energy by reading at lamplight in the morning, he now even scolded himself half loudly. Yet he was happy he did not research and was up all night for nothing. He remembered correctly: there maybe was a way to help Greg. And he could not wait to share it with someone… but not with Greg at first.

The door of the Daroga's room was knocked wide open and before that poor man could turn to his other side and wake up properly, he heard that most beautiful, yet sometimes most annoying painfully familiar male voice.

- Good morning, Daroga!

- Allah…- He moaned, rubbing his eyes.

- No, I am still Erik. But thank you for the honor.

- What are you doing here?

- Talking to you, of course. You have five minutes to get ready for a talk. I am waiting for you, and checking the time. My watch is still very much accurate. – He pointed at the Persian with a skeletal finger, then left the room, to call back from the door: - Five minutes, Daroga!

The poor Persian was sure something terrible was going to happen, or Erik simply lost his mind, just as always. He did not even waste the time with yawning, only he hurriedly put on a robe and appeared in the living room with Erik.

- Oh ho! Two minutes and a half. Nice job Daroga, you finally learned it is better to obey if I ask something.

- What do you want? – The Persian wasn't in the best mood, being upset about Erik's not at all unusual but the scarier for that fact, behavior.

- To make a child's life turn to the better. – He pointed at a page and shoved it under the Daroga's nose.

- What the Hell is that? – The Persian snorted.

- Can't you read? Oh, I am so tired I have to explain literally everything to all of you, but well. This is how vocal chords work, you can see on the attached illustration.

- And?

- And I am going to see if I can do something about Greg's damaged ones.

- Erik! – The Daroga gasped, instantly sobering up. – This is nonsense! This is impossible!

- There is nothing impossible, my dear friend. – Erik chuckled.- Erik will give voice to his newest son, he promised him.

- Let me see it clearly: you want to experiment on a seven year old child, possibly even kill him? Erik, a surgery like that is way too far-fetched! Search a doctor if you want to help him! A surgeon!

- Humbug. – Erik snorted. – I trust none of them.

- But Erik, you have had a surgery and…

- And that fool nearly killed me with overdosing anesthetics, thank you. I can also kill my son, there is no need to hire someone else to do it for me.

- Just because that happened ONCE, it does not mean Greg will meet the same fate. – Mohammed sighed with irritation.

- I don't know any surgeons in London. If I, myself had a new medical condition, or either the children, I swear I'd rather go back to Paris to consult with Bonsanté about that.

- You shall write him a letter then to consult your new brain damage! – The poor Daroga groaned.

- It is old, he already knows about it and cannot help. – Erik retorted. – Yet, I can help.

- Erik… - The Persian took a deep breath. – I am not going to say this to hurt you, but… but you might be too… aged to do such things. You said it yourself, that you sometimes have trouble lifting your hand to adjust your glasses. How can you operate on a child's throat in that condition?

- At first, nowadays I am in a good enough health. Secondly, this is why I am going to need an aid.

- Me? – The Persian, if it would be possible with his complexion, would have sure turned to white as the wall, hearing this.

- Of course not. – Erik shook his head. – You are not much help, you faint upon seeing the slightest bloodshed.

- If you refer to the time I fainted, it wasn't because I am sick of the sight of blood. It was because I was sick of the sight WHAT YOU DID. And that MUCH blood. And other….

- Shut up.

- How could you…?

- Daroga! We are wandering slightly off subject.

- And…. Erik who did you think of as an aid…? No. – He suddenly realized the situation and jumped up to grab Erik's skeletal hand. – You are not going to involve Moonlight in this nonsense!

- He had already helped me with medical issues before. He is a great child.

- Yes, but constructing a prosthetic hand for an already missing limb is something else than literally dissecting a living child's throat, Erik!

- I don't understand you. – Erik shrugged. – For the years we have known each other, you kept telling me to be good, help others and do good things. Now that I wish to help someone, now that is the matter.

- Erik, it is not your intent which is the problem, but the fact HOW are you going to solve it.

- Did you forget?

- What?

- Who nursed you back to health after your illness recently?

- You. – The Daroga sighed.

- Who nursed you back to health after you nearly drowned?

- Partly Darius, because you just put me on my doorstep!

- Your fever went down by the time I did so. I had no more time to play "nurse the baby" with you, I had more important things to do.

- For example locking Raoul up? And don't forget: where did I nearly drown, huh?

- We are again slightly off subject.

- I do just the same as you always do, avoid the point you don't wish to talk about.

- Who helped with the Shah's cough your leeches weren't able to identify?

- You, you, it was you, all right, I admit it: you are Jesus, resurrecting Lazarus with your violin!

- Oh, good you remind me, I wished to play it for Christine, she loves if I do, from time to time.

- May I have a guess, Erik? This let us cure someone is not really about Gregory, is it?

- What do you mean? – Erik's body language changed. Before he was like a self-confident Opera Ghost, but at that very moment he hid his hands behind his back and hid his neck between his shoulders, just like a child who was caught doing something wrong, protecting himself from a slap.

- Erik… I think it is important for you because you just want to be good. But…

- You know why I started learning medicine and human anatomy, Daroga?

- Why?

- Two reasons: one is to find out what was wrong with me and how to cure or change it somehow… and secondly, which became more important for me as time passed: to be able to kill people more easily. List me herbs that cure, Daroga. Good herbs.

- Well… thyme, chamomile, linden…

- Fool. – Erik snorted. -There are NO such things as good herbs. Any herbs you list, or may think of, can be used for either to cure and kill. Or at least, to make someone suffer. You have to know the patients' medical conditions, and you can either help or harm the person with what you give them. In the first 50 years, I hardly helped anyone. The examples I listed were the only ones I did to make people's lives better.

- And now you wish to help Gregory to prove yourself that you are able to help people and you are a good person?

- Partly. It is not only about Erik.

- But?

- Sometimes… you understand things so slowly, Daroga. Why, do you think, I wish to have Mahtab by my side? Partly to help me, yes. But other way…?

- To show him the good path. – The Daroga nodded.

- Finally. – Erik sighed with relief. – Believe it or not, I am not happy at all that Mahtab killed that person. I know he meant well, and I know he had felt he had no other choice. But understand, I wish to show him he can use his talent and knowledge for other things as well. I don1t want him to end up like his miserable wreck father. He is living in a happy marriage now, Daroga, for more than 20 years, and Erik still isn't like others. He tries to be, but his life before can still be sensed in his actions. Mahtab just turned to the wrong path, and I wish to stop him, showing him how to use his talents. If all I achieve in my life will be saving my deformed child from my horrible fate, it was already worth it. And with this action, I score two goals at once: I cure a boy and guide my son back on the right way to go.

- I understand. – The Daroga stated calmly. – Yet I still believe you are planning an utterly dangerous move and I am worried of that. But, knowing one can't change your mind…

- I believe in ourselves, Daroga, but at first, I do have to examine Greg. Might be he can't even be saved like that. It depends on the injuries in his throat he had gotten. But at least, I try.

- Oh Erik… I almost forgot. You do have to ask the patient's approval of the surgery first.

- Which seven year old would deny such an opportunity, you fool?

- Erik…

- Oh, shut up, I will. But just don't talk about this to the others. I want to investigate the possibilities with the boy. Oh how I wish I had a laboratory just like in Paris…

- That would be awesome, Noel would have a place to blow up in every second day, just like you. I thank Allah for this fact every other day.

Erik did not reply, only waved in the air before leaving the room.

Greg was suspiciously and slightly uncomfortably examined his new Papa's face when the man told him to sit in front of him and open his mouth. Erik was holding a lantern too close to his head, and the light bothered his eyes, nearly blinding him. This was the first occasion he felt a bit of fear again since he was with his new family. Oh how he loathed fear. He was used to fear before in his life, all the people he was starting to trust, did betray him in the end. They would hurt him mentally and physically, they would slap him, kick and beat him, and his latest owner who wanted to teach him to drink…

- Drink, you little rat, at least it will be visible on you! – That nasty laugh still echoed in his ears. He did not wish to have that damned beer yet again. It tasted horrible, and every time it was forced down on his throat, he would throw up. It was bitter.

And one day that horrible drink was accidentally (really accidentally?) replaced by that burning liquid that took away his voice… and the man was only laughing at him…

- Don't cry, son, please. – Erik's soothing voice filled his ears suddenly. He did not know how, but this man could sound so beautifully and calmingly as no one else. – I am only trying to help you. Please sit down and open your mouth, will you?

Greg now felt he had nothing to be afraid of. If this man had just half as beautiful face as his voice is, he should not have had that horrible life before. He now felt he will never have to be afraid again, and he hoped so. He needed to trust someone finally. He sat down on the chair in front of Erik and opened his mouth, just as he was asked. Showing trust shall repay.

- Good boy, I am so proud of you. – Erik smiled and talked reassuringly to the child, to calm him. – I am going to tell you everything I am going to do or examine, don't be afraid. Papa is looking at your throat to find out how badly is it hurt. The lantern is only for me to see better. Now would you please lean a bit backwards…. That is it, my boy, you are so obedient, I like it. Let's see…

Erik examined the scars and scabby parts in the boy's throat, and nodded after a time, smiling.

- Yes, there is trouble. But it isn't as bad as I thought it is. – He explained. – Tell me, Greg, do you wish Papa to fix this?

Greg's eyes got wide open, and his lips ran to such a wide smile it reached from ear to ear, and he started nodding vehemently.

- I knew you would say so. If Papa's plans work out the way he imagined, you are going to have your voice back. But please know that we are not hundred percent sure it is going to succeed. Do you still want it? You will have to suffer through some time… it will be painful.

Greg grabbed a pencil and wrote

"I don't mind pain. I want to speak."

- What a clever and brave little boy you are, just like your Papa! That is the spirit!

Erik patted the boy's back happily, who leaped into his arms and hugged him tight. The young child's eyes reflected so much joy and hope that Erik nearly started crying. He composed himself enough not to though – he had to be the powerful father figure and he shall hardly ever cry in front of his children.

After dinner, when Erik sent all his children to do their homework, only Mahtab stayed in the room with him. Even Gregory had homework by this time, he was learning how to write in full understandable and well – worded sentences, and the basics to calculate.

- What's that, Mahtab? Why don't you study? – Erik turned to the oldest child, who did not leave.

- You forgot to give me homework. – Mahtab explained.

Of course, Erik did not. It was intentionally planned this way.

- Did I? – Erik lifted his head from his newspaper, pretending he was really just forgetful.

- You did. – Mahtab nodded.

- Then we shall figure out something. – Erik stood up from his armchair, grabbing the medical book from the shelf he had shown to the Daroga in the morning. – Read this chapter about vocal chords and memorize it. – He put the book in front of the teen and winked at him naughtily. – If you are finished I shall listen to it. Pay attention. It is a matter of life and death.

Mahtab suspected there was something meaningful behind it, but he became sure of it as soon as he saw his father's side notes scribbled on the edge of the page, with his nearly unreadable cursive, but Mahtab was already used to it.

- Why did you write this here, Papa? – He lifted his head and pointed at the last line, which said: " teamwork"

- I need your help. – Erik sat close to the child and put his hand on his shoulder.

- Naturally. – Mahtab nodded. – In what?

- Do you remember when we worked on a prosthetic hand for Tonton Raoul?

- Of course! – The teen's deformed face lit up with joy, his eyes suddenly shone with interest and an urge to help. He smiled the best to his abilities.

- Well, now it is going to be a bit more complicated, as we are going to give vocal chords to Greg he will be able to use. It is a dangerous task, Mahtab, which is why I ask you to pay attention and learn everything with 110% of accuracy. Greg's life is the risk.

- But why do we do the operation if it is so dangerous? – Mahtab asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. – You said you accepted Greg as mute, and so did I. I love him like this.

- I do, my dear, and so does all the family, but society won't. Do I have to explain you how people treat those who are not like them? From all the people, I doubt I have to explain it to you, am I wrong? – Erik's voice reflected so much bitterness and compassion at the same time that an involuntarily sigh of agreement left Mahtab's chest.

- Of course, Papa, I understand.

- See? If we can save him from a life of solitude, mocking and rejection, why should we not?

- You are right. – Mahtab smiled again. – I only want the best for him.

- You are a good child, Mahtab. – Erik said seriously. – Never forget that, dear: you always have good intentions. Your soul is clear. You are meant to be good.

Erik looked into Mahtab's discolored eyes with fatherly love and wished his son would notice the meaning behind his words before it was too late. As Mahtab always had extremely high social understanding skills from a young age, unlike Erik, he nearly always knew what his partner felt, without even needing them to tell him how they felt, so he noticed his father was worrying about him for some reason.

- Papa, if you say so, I have no doubt. – He calmed Erik, smiling.

- Just do your best please. – Erik cleared his throat. – Learn. Study. Feel. Follow your heart. And always know you are good.

With these last words of encouragement, Erik stroke his son's blondish hair, placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, then left him alone to be able to study the anatomy lesson which will have a very heavy importance in a few weeks to come.