A/N - In this chapter, we have lots of misunderstandings and confusion so far as Christine's concerned (always good :) ), some Erik angst (even better!) and the beginning of Cosette's redemption - although from conversations I've had with readers, I'm a little afraid I've made her too nasty in the earlier chapters!! Just try to forgive and forget ...! Oh - and Raoul gets an active part ;)
Christine, concealed in the shadows, watched Nadir close the door and hurry away towards the market. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover her hair and hurried up the steps to his front door. She knocked lightly, her eyes scanning the street anxiously to ensure he was not returning.
Darius opened the door, starting slightly as he saw the guest.
"Mademoiselle ..."
"No," she said quickly, motioning with her hand for him to be silent. "I need you to help me. Give this letter to the man who is currently staying in this house; will you do that for me?"
Darius stayed silent a moment, before nodding and taking the faintly scented envelope from her.
"Yes, mademoiselle," he said expressionlessly.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much," she said earnestly. "This means so much to me." She pressed his hand briefly in gratitude before glancing furtively around the street again and hurrying away.
Darius closed the door slowly and looked down at the envelope in his hand. He glanced towards the room in which Erik was seated, and after a moment's hesitation, crumpled the letter and dropped it into his pocket.
"The time for making amends is past," he murmured to himself in Persian. "All that can be left is the healing."
* * *
Nadir entered the house and handed his coat to Darius.
"Master ..."
Nadir turned back to him. "Yes?"
Darius handed him a sheet of paper and took a step back, watching him open it. He unfolded it, recognising the handwriting and trademark red ink.
I feel I have trespassed upon your hospitality for quite long enough. Your continued kindness has been greatly appreciated, but as I am no longer in need of assistance, I see no reason for prolonging this inconvenience to you.
There followed an address, and the simple signature Erik.
He sighed, feeling a sensation of unease steal over him. This was a letter left not to a friend, but as to a stranger - overly formal and polite, it betrayed no sentiment or reasons for this unexpected departure ... he sat down and studied the note.
"Did you see him leave?" he asked without looking up at Darius.
"No, master."
Nadir sighed. He should have known - no one would ever see Erik leave as he passed like a shadow from one tomb to another.
"All right," he said wearily.
"Master ..." He looked up to see Darius hovering.
"Yes?"
"Perhaps ... perhaps this time he would like to be left alone to recover in peace with his memories?"
Nadir looked at him for a moment then nodded in acquiescence.
"I daresay you're right," he conceded. "In a month, perhaps ..."
* * *
Nadir checked the sheet of paper for directions, and realised that his first deduction had been right - the dingy block of flats, cheap and in a distinctly unsavoury neighbourhood, was indeed the place to which Erik's direction had led him. He glanced up and started with surprise; in a window of one of the higher flats, silhouetted against the light, sat a tall figure, stiffly rigid, staring blankly out of the window. Nadir watched him for a moment, as he sat perfectly still, barely seeming to breathe. He wondered briefly how long he would sit there for without moving; his customary apathy for food and current distaste for life might dictate longer than could be healthy.
Nadir took a deep breath and opened the door to the block of flats, beginning to climb the long, dimly lit stairs.
He checked the number on the door against his letter, and knocked.
There was no answer.
He tried again; still no response. He tried the handle and, somewhat to his surprise, the door opened. He entered cautiously, squinting in the sudden darkness.
"Erik?"
The figure seated at the window unfurled itself and rose slowly, disappearing into the darkness. Nadir forced himself to stand his ground, ignoring the increasing feeling of vulnerability.
"Erik, I know you're there ..."
Erik's voice came, directionless and emotionless through the darkness.
"Daroga."
"Erik ... put a light on, my eyes aren't as good in the dark as yours ..."
There was a long silence.
"I'd rather not."
"Erik ..." A chill crept down Nadir's spine. "Put a light on, for the love of Allah!"
He heard the scraping of a match, and a flame flared. Keeping the candle away from his face, Erik placed it on the table and retreated into the shadows again.
"Erik ... what's wrong?"
There was a pause.
"Why are you here?"
"I ... wanted to make sure you were all right."
"As you see, I am."
"I don't see anything, Erik ... apart from the fact that you seem determined to keep me from looking you in the face. Not exactly calculated to reassure, is it?"
There was a long pause.
"You seem to forget that I have never been overly fond of looking people in the face, so to speak."
"Erik, turn a proper light on. Common courtesy towards a guest, if nothing else."
Nadir didn't hear Erik move, but a gas light suddenly flared into life, making him squint in the sudden burst of light.
It took him a moment to locate Erik; he was standing in a corner, silently regarding Nadir, his eyes seemingly unaffected by the shift in light. Nadir was forced to suppress a gasp of shock as he saw him; he looked absolutely dreadful. While Erik had always been thin to a fault, he was now nothing short of skeletal, and the visible side of his face looked worn and utterly devoid of expression.
He raised one eyebrow cynically as he regarded Nadir's poorly suppressed shock.
"You will allow my distaste for light, I think."
Nadir was silent for a long time.
"What are you trying to do to yourself, Erik?"
Erik shrugged. "I rarely find it necessary to concentrate such energies upon myself; the world is sufficiently adequate at ensuring my condition as to render any such efforts unnecessary."
"Don't be facetious, Erik! When was the last time you ate something proper? When was the last time you slept? Are you intending to do anything for the rest of your life other than sit in a dark room and waste away for thinking about her?!"
Erik moved sharply, turning away from him, and he cursed himself for the pain his ill-considered words must have caused his friend.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But Erik, you must see, this isn't the way to get over her."
Erik remained silent.
"Why must you punish yourself for a situation which is entirely of her making?"
"The fault was my failure to deserve her," Erik said coldly, holding Nadir's eyes just long enough for Nadir to see the utter emptiness there before turning away.
"Thank you for coming, Nadir, but I fear I have other things to which I must attend this morning."
As Nadir stepped out into the street, wondering with a deepening sense of unease as to Erik's unaccustomed brusqueness, he glanced up at the flat, and saw that Erik had resumed his seat at the window and was once more staring sightlessly at the empty sky.
* * *
Christine set down her needlework and glanced impatiently at the clock. She rang the bell, and the small Spanish maid appeared.
"Antonia ... have there been any messages for me?"
Antonia shook her head.
"I am sorry, mademoiselle ... I shall inform you, as I promised, if there are."
Christine forced a smile. "Thank you, Antonia. That will be all."
The small maid withdrew, and Christine sat back, confused and upset.
Why hadn't he replied? Could it really be ... that he didn't care anymore?
Antonia entered the room again, and Christine sat up with nervously excited anticipation.
"Mademoiselle ... there is a gentleman to see you."
Christine went cold. It couldn't be ... he wouldn't dare ...
"Show him in," she managed.
The door opened, and she rose automatically to greet her guest, forcing herself not to show her surprise in front of the maid at the unexpected identity of her visitor.
"Monsieur ... please, sit down. Thank you, Antonia, that will be all."
Nadir awkwardly twisted his hat in his hands.
"You were right," she said quietly, as soon as the maid had gone. "He doesn't want to see me."
Nadir sighed and sat down. "Yes, he does," he said quietly. "I think he wants that more than anything else in the world."
Christine studied his face carefully. "What?" she said.
Nadir passed a hand through his hair. "I'm going to be frank with you, Mademoiselle," he said. "I don't understand you."
Christine set down her teacup and sat back in her chair, listening intently.
"You know how he feels about you." He shook his head, silencing Christine, who looked as if she were about to speak. "No ... whatever you may say, he loves you ... perhaps now more than ever. It's not what he would choose ... I think that at the moment he would give everything he owns to be able to forget you." He sighed. "But he can't." He rose slowly, and began to pace the room. Christine hadn't moved. "I have known Erik for over thirty years. I've seen him go through things which you can't even imagine; seen him so weary of life that I'd leave him at night unsure as to whether I'd find him still alive in the morning." He heard Christine lean forward in her chair, and turned back to her. "But I have never seen him as wretched as he is now. I don't know what to say to him anymore; there is nothing left to say." He took a deep breath. "And that is your fault."
He heard her draw in a sharp breath and lean forward to speak again. "No ... I don't want to hear it. Whether you meant to or not, you have utterly destroyed the most unique man I have ever known. And that is why I don't understand you. He would do ... anything for you. Anything within his power - it can't have escaped your notice that your career at the Opera is entirely down to him ... it can't have passed you by how much your little charade with Monsieur le Vicomte hurt him. And now ..." He sighed and shook his head, seeming lost for words. "Now, it's worse than ever. I don't think he ever truly believed you hated him, you know ... but now you've left him without a great deal of choice but to believe it. And that ... that's tearing him apart."
"Why?" Christine burst out, evidently unable to keep silent any longer. "I really don't understand you! You keep saying things like that ... but I don't understand why! Anyone would think I had been involved in that foul little rat-trap on Friday ..." She broke off, unsettled by the look on Nadir's face.
"What did you say?"
* * *
"Cosette!"
Cosette turned in surprise, her face lighting up. "Raoul, what a wonderful surprise!"
Raoul beamed. "I have an even better one for you."
Cosette felt herself blushing and twisted a strand of hair around her finger.
"Really?"
Raoul nodded, still grinning broadly. "There's someone here to see you." He was ushering her through the corridor now, his hand a light pressure in the small of her back.
Cosette frowned. "To see me?"
Raoul ushered her proudly into the lobby, where she saw a man standing with his back to her, studying one of the paintings. In that one moment, panic welled up inside her and she found herself praying desperately to a God in whom she had long since lost all faith.
Oh God, not him, please God not him ...
He turned around, his face breaking into a smile, and took a step towards her.
"Cosette!"
She took a step backwards, hysteria threatening. She felt, as if from a distance, Raoul's hand on her arm, heard his voice, concerned, questioning, murmuring her name. She turned blindly to leave, but Tom's hand closed around her arm.
"Cosette, darling ..."
"Don't touch me!" She whirled away from him, shaking his hand off her arm, but he was stronger than she was.
"Cosette ..."
She heard Raoul's voice, slightly shocked, and reached blindly out to him.
"Raoul ..."
He took hold of her, bewildered but concerned. "Cosette, sweetheart, what's wrong?" She began to sob wildly, and knew that had it not been for his arms around her, she would have fallen.
"Shh ... it's all right, I'm here, I'll protect you, calm down ..."
He looked with confusion to the man who seemed to have provoked such a violent response in her, shattering her beautifully polished ice queen reserve once and for all.
"What's wrong with her?" he whispered.
"I've no idea," the other man replied smoothly, reaching out to Cosette with patronising concern. "Come, Cosette - shall we go and have a coffee and talk about it?"
Cosette was sobbing too hard to form any kind of coherent answer, clinging to Raoul for dear life.
Tom Chandler reached out and took hold of her arm firmly. "Thank you, Monsieur," he said coolly. "I'll take it from here."
Raoul hesitated. "If she's upset ..."
"She'll be fine," the blonde man interrupted coolly. "Thank you for your concern."
Taking a firm hold of Cosette, he began to steer her away, leaving Raoul confused and worried.
"Cosette, pull yourself together, you're making a spectacle of yourself ..."
"No!" Cosette began to fight wildly against his arms.
Raoul hurried towards her. The blonde man turned towards him, his face angry now.
"I said we can manage by ourselves now, thank you very much!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm really not sure that you can." He leaned closer to Cosette. "Cosette ... what do you want me to do? Do you want me to go?"
Cosette was on her knees, her hair in disarray partially covering her face, her body racked with convulsive sobs.
"All right," he said with resolve, turning to the blonde man. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Don't be absurd," the man said coldly. "This is my fiancée. If I wish to speak with her, I will!"
"Not if she doesn't wish to speak with you," Raoul snapped.
Gilles Andre, entering the lobby with several patrons and the Firmins upon hearing raised voices, was horrified to see a well-dressed young man throwing a punch at the Vicomte de Chagny. Raoul reeled from the shock of the blow, then threw himself bodily at the other man, knocking him over. Andre rushed over to separate them, receiving a blow in the eye as he did so, but thankfully aided by several of his companions who eventually succeeded in separating the two men and holding them back. Maya Firmin had gone straight to Cosette and, wrapping her in her shawl, hurried her away to the privacy of her dressing room.
Andre was holding back Raoul, whose eye was blackened and lip swelling from a nasty cut. Far from his usual gentle affability, he was absolutely furious, and looked ready to throw himself at his opponent again at the slightest provocation. The other man, however, was in no fit state for a replay; missing several teeth, seriously marring his handsome appearance, and with what looked painfully like a broken jaw, he was leaning on the arm of one of Andre's companions, tenderly probing a swollen eye. Andre swung Raoul round to face him.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?!" he hissed. Glancing around, he saw that an inquisitive crowd had begun to gather. Grabbing Raoul's arm, he began to steer him towards the office.
"Where's Cosette?" was all Raoul asked.
"My wife's taking care of her," Firmin replied, ushering his partner and patron through the door. He and Andre exchanged bewildered glances behind Raoul's back - fighting over Cosette Graham while engaged to Christine Daaé?
* * *
Nadir sat forward in his chair. "I don't understand, Mademoiselle. The trap set at the Opera ..."
"Was nothing to do with me," she concluded agitatedly. She was sitting very still, twisting a handkerchief in her hands. "Oh, God ... I can't believe he thinks I would do something like that! It never occurred to me ..." She shook her head distractedly. "What must he think of me?"
"Listen to me, Mademoiselle," Nadir said earnestly. "Do you wish to see him again?"
She looked up quickly, her face tear-streaked. "Of course! I must explain ..." She shook her head. "But I don't know how I could make him agree to see me. You know how stubborn he is ..."
Nadir shook his head. "Leave that to me; I have an idea. Now, Mademoiselle, tell me - are there any nights on which you regularly do not perform at the Opera?"
Christine shook her head to clear it, slightly confused. "Tuesday and Thursday. Why ...?"
Nadir ignored her. "Will Erik know that?"
She nodded. "Of course."
Nadir smiled. "Very well. In that case, this is what we will do."
Christine leaned forward eagerly in her chair to listen to Nadir's idea.