Chapter 17: Old Friends

Marguerite looked up at Erik, giving him one of her most beautiful pouts; the sort of face that he normally would be unable to deny under any circumstances.

"Do we have to sit with her?" She asked in a whine. "I don't like sitting with her!"

"I know you don't like sitting with her." He said gently. "You have to, though. I can't let you sit there alone. Before Isabelle sent me her note today, I was going to have the box keeper stay with you. Something bad could happen to you, and I'd never forgive myself."

Marguerite crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest.

"We'll throw her over the edge of the box!"

Erik couldn't hold himself up when he started to laugh. His knees gave out on him almost immediately. Slowly sitting on the floor, he leaned back against the side of his mattress, and held out a hand to her. She moved to him, and he slipped his arms tightly around her, kissing her face and hair. She was so adorable.

"You don't really hate Isabelle that much, do you?" He asked once his gales of laughter had calmed to low, constant chuckles. "I think she's very nice, and very sweet."

"And very pretty." Marguerite added nastily, obviously not meaning it. Erik hesitated, watching her.

"Yes." He finally agreed, sobering up. "Ma Cherie, I have to tell you something. When you and your Mama were gone with Fleur and Gerard the other night, Isabelle came by as she always does, for her lessons."

"Is that supposed to be a surprise?" She asked sarcastically. He chuckled again.

"No. The surprise is that I found something out about her, and about myself, that night. I think I might love her, Marguerite. Would that upset you too terribly? If I were in love with Isabelle?"

She watched him for a long moment, a look of pain on her face. Sighing, he stroked her cheek gently.

"Ma petite, that doesn't mean I've stopped loving you. It doesn't mean I love you any less. I just love you differently. You understand that, don't you?"

"She said she wouldn't take you away from me!" Her hand curled into a fist, and he had to catch her small wrist before she hit him hard in the shoulder. She'd gained a great deal of strength since he'd become the 'savior' of the family.

"She hasn't taken me away from you." He promised. "I will always be with you, Marguerite. Always. I will always be here with you, and for you. Every time you need me for any reason, I will be here. Even loving Isabelle couldn't keep me away from you. You mean more to me than anyone else in this world. Do you understand me? Nothing is going to make me leave you."

She pulled away from him, even though he was trying to let her know everything would still be all right if he started to love Isabelle more deeply. She stared at him as she backed from the room, tears standing in her eyes. Then, she whirled, pounding down the stairs.

"Mama!" He heard her shriek, giving out a wail, and he sighed, shaking his head. Slowly standing, he turned to reach for his coat and hat. He wanted to stay and talk to Marguerite some more. He wanted to comfort her. Yet if he didn't move now, he would be late for warm-ups back at the Opera House. He was going to perform in his favorite Opera that night, and he wanted to sound worthy of the role.

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Intermission, and Erik was sitting in his dressing room, relaxing for the half hour that allowed him to relax his voice. He'd been playing Faust with everything that he had that evening. He didn't want to disappoint those in the audience who wanted to see true heart and true beauty in the art they came to listen to. Yet it was taking its toll on him tonight. He knew that he would have to take it easy on his voice if he wanted it to last through the night. He'd been practicing hard in rehearsal all that day, and he should have seen this coming. Yet his mind had been too filled with thoughts of Isabelle and Marguerite for him to realize it until now.

There was a soft knock on his door, and he stood to open it. If he didn't have to speak, he wasn't going to. Every word could compromise his voice. He peered out into the hallways, and then smiled as Christine looked up at him with her braided hair and kerchief. The costume she wore made her look like a sweet Dutch girl more than anything, but that was only up close. Chuckling, he opened the door to let her in.

"Is your voice feeling better?" She asked him in concern, and he nodded. He looked her over briefly as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, and noticed she held an envelope in one hand, tapping it nervously against her opposite palm. He pointed to it questioningly, and she followed his gaze. "Oh! I'd almost forgotten! Monsieur Reyer asked me to give this to you."

Erik groaned. If Monsieur Reyer had sent him another patrons request to have their family members tutored, he would scream. He didn't have the time anymore. Yet if that was what this note was all about, then he knew the managers would make him do it. Yet when he unfolded the letter inside, he nearly dropped it for shock.

'Monsieur Genie,

Or should I say Erik? It has been a very long time since I have come back to Paris. Yet word of this amazing lead tenor who appeared shortly after your terrorization of the Opera House has traveled far. Lo and behold I returned to my apartment life here in Paris to find you on stage! I don't know how you did it, Erik. Perhaps you'll reveal your new trickery to me if we meet. Yet I'm sure it will prove interesting.

I'm still watching you, old friend. I'm glad to know you're well, even if it does seem you're up to new tricks that I'm not sure are more or less dangerous. Please be careful, and please consider seeing me after tonight's performance.

Nadir'

"What is it, Erik?" Christine asked in concern, seeing the look on his face. "Who is it from?"

"The Daroga himself!" He laughed, handing her the note. "Nadir . . . you old devil." Taking the note back, he scribbled onto the other side of the paper, and asked Christine to return it to Monsieur Reyer. She nodded and quickly moved to do so. He then sat down again, closing his eyes for the last few minutes of intermission, before he would have to get into his place on stage.

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Erik sighed with relief when the curtain closed at the end of the final act, and he took his abbreviated bows. Usually the crowd kept him bowing on stage for nearly ten or fifteen minutes after every performance. Yet tonight, he'd made certain the men who ran the curtain knew that after four bows, they were to close them. He didn't want to stay on stage for encores tonight. He was far too fatigued and his voice simply needed to rest and get away from all the other sounds that seemed to affect it just as much as speaking did.

"Erik, should I get you some tea?" Christine asked, walking off stage at his side, as she usually did. She sounded genuinely concerned. She'd never heard his voice so tired, although it certainly hadn't affected his performance.

"Cherie, thank you, that would be very nice." He said gently to her in reply, touching her shoulder gently before moving down the hallway and back into his dressing room. Removing most of his costume and getting into his own clothes, he collapsed on the divan, closing his eyes for a brief rest. Yet not even five minutes passed before there was a knock on the door.

"Erik?"

"Come in, Christine." Sitting up, he sighed as she brought the tea over to him, and sat on the divan beside him with her own cup and saucer. They sipped the hot liquid, and Erik closed his eyes. It was bliss to his throat. He already felt better. Yet even their own silence was broken by a quick succession of short raps on the door before it was thrown open by a little figure outside.

"Papa?"

"Come in." He smiled, turning to see Fleur, Marguerite, and Isabelle standing together in the doorway. So the children had come. He hadn't been able to ask Madeline if she'd brought them when she arrived at the Opera House. They'd both been too busy with their separate duties. Putting down his cup of tea, he reached out to pull the twins into his arms, kissing them affectionately. He was grateful when Marguerite hugged him in return, giving him frantic little kisses; her eyes alight. The pain he'd seen in her eyes that evening was gone. Perhaps Madeline had been able to console her.

"You were wonderful tonight, Erik." Isabelle said softly, drawing his attention to her. He took in a sharp breath, looking at the dark purple velvet she wore, with gold colored trimming along every seam. She wore amethyst earrings that set off her beautiful eyes, and she was simply awe- inspiring. She smiled at him affectionately, and came forward, offering her hand. Erik quickly stood, taking his arms from around the little ones to take her hand, and bring it too his lips.

"Thank you so much, Mademoiselle." He greeted formally, and she laughed.

"Erik, do you really need to call me Mademoiselle?"

Christine cleared her throat, and Erik composed himself quickly.

"Oh -- Christine, this is Isabelle, the young lady I have been tutoring. I've told you about her, haven't I? Isabelle, this is Christine DaaƩ."

"Of course." Isabelle greeted with soft enthusiasm. "Erik has told me a great deal about you, Mademoiselle. I admire your talent."

"Merci." Christine said graciously, looking at them curiously. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Erik speaks about you quite a bit. He says you have quite the talent yourself."

"Does he?" Isabelle looked up at Erik mischievously. "I wonder what he might have been referring to."

"Well I could say seduction, my dear. Yet that would hardly be proper, now would it?" Everyone laughed, and Christine seemed to finally understand what was happening in the room. They spoke for a few more minutes, and Erik sat down again, holding onto his two little beauties as they climbed into his lap.

"Well, I think we should be taking you home to your Mama." Isabelle finally said, looking to the children. "What do you say, ma petites? Shall we get you home now? I promised your mama I wouldn't keep you here too late."

"No." Marguerite said simply. "I don't want to go with you. I want to go with Erik."

Fleur, on the other hand, was standing already, and had moved to take Isabelle's hand. Erik laughed quietly, squeezing his arm around Marguerite's waist gently.

"It's all right, Isabelle." He said quietly. His cup of tea was long since finished, and his voice felt a great deal better. "She can stay with me. Would you mind taking Fleur? It seems she's ready to go to sleep."

"Certainly, Erik." Isabelle leaned down, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, which he returned with a gentle smile. "Adieu!"

"Adieu." Erik and Christine replied at the same time. Then, when Isabelle was gone, Christine turned to Erik with wide, excited eyes. "Erik! Why didn't you tell me? I'm so happy for you!"

"Now, now, I'm not entirely certain this is a full fledged relationship." He said quickly. "This has only been going on since Wednesday."

"Oh." She said simply, but didn't look convinced. Marguerite had a mildly sour look on her face as they continued to talk about Isabelle. Yet she didn't seem sad, only a bit put-off. "Well, I'd better get going before Raoul thinks I've run off with another man. We're supposed to be having dinner together."

"Then I'll see you Monday." Erik said gently, kissing her hand before she stood and walked out. He then just sat there, holding onto Marguerite for a long while.

"What are you waiting for, Papa?" Marguerite asked softly, yawning a little bit. Sighing, Erik kissed and stroked her hair some more.

"A friend of mine is supposed to visit." He replied gently, looking up towards the door, which Isabelle had unwittingly left open. "He's probably searching for the right dressing room."

They sat together in silence. Marguerite was almost completely asleep in his arms, but still clinging to consciousness. It was nearly forty-five minutes since curtain call, and Nadir still had not appeared. That was very unlike him. Yet Erik continued to wait, knowing he'd appear in his own good time.

A shadow appeared out in the dimly lit hallway, and peered into the room. Erik noticed the shadow immediately, and simply stared outward at it, directly at where the eyes of the figure should have been. They stared at one another for a very long time before Erik smiled in amusement.

"Still can't believe it, old man?" He asked, chuckling. Nadir finally stepped into the room, his jaw having dropped open.

"Allah above, it isn't a trick!" He gasped. "Erik, would you mind telling me what's going on?" His eyes flickered to the child in Erik's arms, who was staring up at him curiously by now.

"If I could tell you the answers to what you want to know, Nadir, I would." He stood up, reaching for his cloak and swinging it onto his shoulders. "I'm sorry that this is going to be a short visit. I have to take Marguerite home to her bed. She's very tired."

"Who is she?" Nadir asked cautiously. It made Erik laugh outright.

"What is the matter with you?" He challenged. "Do you think I'd actually kidnap a little child? I haven't, I assure you! I met her some months back. Her family lives with me now, in a house down the street."

Nadir looked speechless, and continued to stare at Erik as though he were some apparition that he couldn't believe in.

"Papa . . ." Marguerite whined softly, sitting up on the divan to reach out for him. Erik quickly scooped her up into his arms so that she seemed to be laying in them, her head on his shoulder. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Cherie." He kissed her hair for the thousandth time that evening. "We're going home in just a few seconds, I promise." He looked back up at Nadir. "You took a considerable amount of time getting here. Next time we will speak longer. The management has my address if you want to come calling tomorrow."

"I'd . . . I'd be delighted to accept such an invitation." Nadir looked quite nervous. With all the things he'd seen Erik do, this seemed to be simply out of his comprehension. "It's good to see you again, Erik."

"And you." Erik admitted. "Good night, Nadir. Take care of yourself, old man."

Chuckling, he moved past Nadir, and down the hallway. Marguerite snuggled against him as he put his cloak around them. Tightly, to keep off the night time winds outside. It was going to be raining before dawn.