A deafening series of blows to the heavy wooden front door brought Darius out of a light doze. He started up in his cot and drowsily called out an acknowledgement to the visitor. The violent knocking did not subside. Grumbling, Darius lit several lamps to prevent himself from tripping over anything, made his way down the steps and undid the latch of the trembling door. With an impatient grunt he roughly pulled the door open and watched with satisfaction as Erik jerked back in surprise, barely maintaining his balance.
Of course it was Erik; his violent, obstinate style had been immediately recognizable. And who else ever came to call on the daroga anyway? Especially at this time of night. Darius inclined his head slightly towards the other man and inquired what his desire might be.
"I must speak to the daroga immediately," Erik responded softly, but with a hint of tension in his voice.
"He is asleep," Darius retorted. "Can it wait until mor..."
"It cannot wait," Erik interjected. "You will take me to him now, or I will take myself."
Darius eyed Erik suspiciously, and as he did, noticed for the first time that there was something strange in Erik's appearance. He had his cape wrapped loosely around his arms, as though trying to hide a package of some sort. Darius sincerely hoped this was not another of Erik's insane plots. They had not seen much of each other since the whole Christine Daaé affair some months ago, other than sporadic attempts by the daroga to visit Erik--attempts which had become increasingly rare--and Darius had begun to entertain the hope that Erik had truly died of sorrow as he had said he was going to, or at the least had given up on his relationship with the daroga. It had, after all, been rather strained by the fact that the daroga had betrayed him in a sense to Raoul de Chagny. And it had never been an exceedingly stable relationship to begin with.
"Right this way," Darius sighed, feeling it futile to argue with a man so infamous for his ability to get his own way. He led Erik up the stairs, through the tiny sitting room, and over to the door to the daroga's even tinier bedchamber. Reaching out a hand, he knocked tentatively.
Erik chose not to be so compassionate. "Nadir, it's me," he called loudly. "I must speak with you at once. Come to the door."
After a moment or two of tense silence, the door opened and the daroga appeared, blinking in the dim light of the lamps. "Well..."
"Nadir..." Erik started uncertainly. For a moment he did nothing but stare at his old friend, his eyes wandering over the sleek black hair, now full of white patches, the cracked brown skin, and the deep bags underneath the piercing black eyes. For a moment he forgot why he had come. Suddenly a flash of panic crossed Erik's face, and he threw all subtlety to the wind. Allowing his cloak to fall back from his arms, he revealed what appeared to be a baby wrapped in a white silk pillowcase. "I don't know what to do," he stated simply and honestly, "They tell me it's mine, but I've never raised a child before. De Chagny won't have anything to do with it, of course, so what am I to do? You had a son once..."
His implication was clear, but Nadir slowly shook his head, bewildered, "Erik...I had nurses and maids for that sort of thing."
"But you had a child. You must know something!"
"Even you know something. It will need to be clothed, fed, changed..."
"But where shall I get milk from? And I've no idea...I...I've never even held a child this young until now."
"And you're doing a very poor job of it, too," Darius noted dryly before the daroga could stop him, but Erik was too distracted to respond.
"Now, Erik, calm down. Let me see the child." Nadir took the sleeping bundle from Erik's trembling arms and settled it firmly in his own. "Darius, get Erik a brandy, then go out and see if you can find milk anywhere, and a bottle to feed the child with."
"Right now?"
"The child will undoubtedly be hungry when it awakens. The sun is beginning to come up; some shops will be opening."
Darius grudgingly poured brandy into a glass and, with narrowed eyes, shoved it at Erik, who drank the liquor in one gulp. Then he put on his coat and hat and went down the steps to the door.
"Now, how did you...come into possession of the child?" Nadir motioned for Erik to take a seat in the sitting room.
"Raoul brought it by a few hours ago...Funny time to be running errands, really, in the middle of the night like that." Erik helped himself to another brandy and sat down in the nearest chair.
"Yes," mused Nadir quietly. "I assume then that this child is Christine's..."
"Of course it is," Erik snapped, "Who the hell else's would it be?"
"I only meant that you've no proof really of this baby's parentage."
Erik pondered this a moment. "I suppose I hadn't thought about that. I was so overwhelmed...then again, I seriously doubt de Chagny is diabolical enough to hatch any truly cunning plots. I assume he wouldn't sacrifice anyone else's baby by giving it to me. Nothing else makes sense."
A while passed when neither man said anything. Erik rested with his head in his hands while Nadir gently looked the child over. When Darius eventually returned, the baby was beginning to regain consciousness; it squirmed weakly and kicked its tiny legs. Darius set his findings on the small russet end table next to Nadir's armchair. He'd brought milk, a feeding bottle, some blankets, and a newspaper. The newspaper he tossed to Erik, who made no move to catch it, choosing to watch indifferently as it struck his arm and fell to the floor with a dull thud.
"Read it," Darius said simply. Then he retired wordlessly to his room to get some rest.
"Thank you, Darius," Nadir called after him as Erik retrieved the newspaper from its landing place at his feet. Nadir cushioned the now alert baby between a pillow and the chair's armrest and rose to heat the milk. "What does it say?"
Erik thumbed through the paper until he found the article which Darius must have meant for him to read. It was entitled, "De Chagny Heir Born Dead." He scanned the article. "It reports on Christine de Chagny's difficult childbirth and the tragic stillbirth of the de Chagny heir." He paused. "Then it must be Christine's child. And it must be mine. The time is about right, although slightly early. The birth must have been somewhat premature. But assuming the de Chagny's waited to consummate their marriage until after the actual event, it cannot be his. There were too many months of preparation for the wedding."
Nadir filled the bottle with milk and returned to his seat. He unwrapped the child from its makeshift attire and wrapped it again tightly in the blankets Darius had brought. Erik remained staring into space, the newspaper limply held in one hand. "He really is a fool, you know," he commented vaguely, "De Chagny, I mean. Suppose I hadn't been home. Or suppose I was dead."
"Then he would have killed the child, I suppose, or given it up for adoption."
"Adoption. There's an idea!" Erik straightened up in his chair. "I can give the child away. I don't suppose I'd make a very good father; I'd probably ruin it. And I could never afford it a normal life. Who would want to be raised by a monster like me? I live underground, for Christ's sake! Better for it that it's raised by a normal family, a family who can give it love and care."
"If that's what you really want," Nadir picked up the baby who began to fuss and kick. "Here." He extended the bottle of milk to Erik.
"What's this for?"
"You're going to feed the child."
"Me?"
"He is your son, Erik. Don't forget. This is a human being you've created. A human being. And you have a duty to care for him."
At these words, Erik's breath began to come raggedly, and quite suddenly, he found himself doubled over and sobbing into his hands, tears spilling out of his eyes and running lightly down the front of his mask. He hated to admit it, but it felt good to cry, to release all the pent up fear and shock that had plagued him since de Chagny's appearance at his front door. Good God, Nadir was right. This was his child. It was the only chance he'd ever get at having a son, and very likely his last chance at survival. The child was something to live for, someone to love and to sacrifice for. Nothing had made him feel this way since Christine had left, but now, he looked at the child, and he saw Christine in him. This was Christine's son as well. He was the result--the proof--of their love. The child began to scream.
"You're right," Erik gasped. He held out his hands awkwardly for the boy. Once settled in the crook of Erik's arm, with the bottle's nipple at his mouth, the child grew still, utterly absorbed in the task of feeding itself. "I suppose he shall need a name, as well," Erik sighed.
"That is the usual practice."
"Well then..." Erik paused. He had never had much luck with names, his own name having come to him by chance. He sometimes considered it a mere title to which he responded rather than a name. "I'll call him...Julian."
"Julian?" Nadir glanced up at his friend.
"Yes. That's a nice, normal name, isn't it? I intend to give him a normal life if its the last thing I do. I am only too familiar with the life of an outsider to want him to suffer through that."
Nadir nodded his consent, then bowed his head stiffly in the child's direction. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Julian," he said.
Well, thanks to the positive response, I've written a little more. As always, all comments/words of praise/criticisms are encouraged. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed it thus far. I hope I live up to your expectations. If I don't, let me know