Chapter 4- Old Friend.

'Ugh,' Erik grunted as he half opened his eyes. He rolled to his side on the hard mattress which was so unbearable his sadistic side enjoyed sleeping on it. With the roll he felt his back crack slightly and he stretched his legs out with the satisfaction a cat seems to have when licking at his cream. He glanced to the mantel clock and as he waited for his focus to return he rubbed the back of his neck hard, sleep was good, when it came, he thought.

He stood slowly and wandered over stiffly to look out of the window. Gently he used a finger to push the netting aside, nearly eleven o clock and darkness was finally surrounding the city like a cape. He smiled to himself with the almost delirious thought that this was the first real night he had seen since he had been in London and night was his domain, night was his shelter, night was his sanctuary and he enjoyed it so. It soothed him, physically and somewhat mentally and made him free because in the city no one dare look at you in the dark as they hunch their bodies to cope with the onslaught of the wind and their minds rattle with the fear of who or what you may be. If only they knew he thought and then peered out of the window again.

The wind was almost non existent tonight and the trees that littered the area as if it they did not belong there were almost completely still. Their bare branches touched the stars with a what seemed a remarkable gentleness and the velvet of the sky lay softly on the roof tops behind.

He let the net fall back into position and lifted a clean shirt from the back of the chair. He slid the shirt over his shoulders, it was cold and crisp against his stony skin and he buttoned it slowly, thinking about how the rowing to and from the lake in the past had helped his physique. Shame about the face he thought and with the sudden frustration that followed he resisted the urge to smash the mirror on the opposite wall and instead threw his blanket over it. At least now he could not torture himself into a darker mood, he thought and finished dressing himself, he would hate to be late now.

BREAK Break Break BreakBreakBreak

The knock at the door was sharp, quick and sudden but did not surprise her in the least. She had been waiting for a little over an hour but had not honestly expected him any earlier than this. Still she had been ready at 10:30.

She opened the door and was greeted by the cold white mask and dark hat which she so hated and a body covered entirely in black. So much black, she thought, that if it weren't for the mask he may have disappeared into the cool night completely. She nodded an acknowledgment in his direction and stepped aside gesturing that he may enter. He obliged with a nod of his own and lifted his hand to remove his hat. He looked at her stepping into the warmth and handed his hat to her. She took the hat and held her arm out for his cloak, and in a brief hope, his mask, but the hope was short lived. He chose to keep the cloak and the mask and at this she couldn't help but allow a smile to form over her thinning lips.

'Bon soir Monsieur fantôme, comment êtes-vous?' She asked as she closed the door and ushered him into the sitting room, with a quick motion of her hands she offered him a seat and set about pouring him a drink from the cabinet across the room. As she poured she smiled to herself at the thought of his wince at the use of 'phantom', her inside was grinning as she handed him his whiskey and she was pleasantly surprised when he answered her only partly in French.

'Bon soir Antoinette, Je suis bien.' He said. 'And how are you?'

'I am well enough, Erik. You have been practicing.' She said her French accent puncturing the sentence in such a way it seemed to let light through the gaps. She smiled at him and he mustered a forced smile in return. He had never really been one for emotion and the smile faded much faster than it had appeared.

'I pick things up quickly, including languages.' He sighed. 'You don't look well, Madame.' He said with a formality which she had never been able to convince him to leave in the dungeons of his mind. This time it was her turn to sigh and she shrugged.

'Let's dispense with the pleasantries shall we? You have indeed tweaked my mildly curious nature. Why am I here?' He said and again she sighed and gracefully lowered herself to her own seat closer to the blazing fire. He watched her and in spite of himself felt a sudden urge to leap up and help her.

'If that is the way you will have it.' she replied. 'I am on my death bed, Erik. By next month I will be gone.'

'Oh.' He said with a nod and for an instant fought back the sting of his tears pricking his eyeballs. He glanced at his hand holding the cold glass and with the recognition that his fingers were white, he loosened his tense grip on it.

Her cold eyes softened as she looked in his direction and she rested her hands on the arms of the seat. She thought for a moment about how delicately she should deal with him now. She wasn't quite sure of his feelings she never was and had often thought quietly that neither was he. Should she treat him with care or had her news pushed him enough off guard for her to just say it… She drew it a deep breath and prepared herself.

'I had hoped, Erik, that perhaps you might see Christine, while you are here.'

He returned his eyes to her direction and blinked in disbelief at the cheek of the woman. His heart thudded in his chest as he fought his natural reaction to pounce and throttle her on the very spot she sat. No, she saved your life fool, she means well. She must mean well. Either that or her illness, whatever it was, had taken her mind with it.

'This is unlike you.' He said flatly. 'I had prepared myself for all sorts. Even, Antionette, for the announcement of your expected death. This I had not prepared for.' And this time it was her turn to nod at him. He stared at her and she never once flinched from his gaze, she was not afraid of him now, certainly not with death waiting. But he was sure she had never feared him before.

'I am trying to do on my imminent death the things I wish I had done so many years ago.' She said. 'I would not usually ask you to do such a thing as I know the damage done but I could not go to the earth without asking you to forgive her and see her once to tell her what you told me only four months ago. Or have you forgotten.'

For a moment he sat in silence, astounded.

'I will not go. You realise this?' He said, coldly. She nodded.

'I think I know but I felt I must try.'

'I told you that because it is the truth. I have not forgotten but I have forgiven her, she could never be with m' He paused, debating in his own mind. 'You know, I saw her today.' He said and her eyebrows raised in surprise causing him to smile involuntarily at her reaction. 'No, not deliberately and not to speak to. She didn't see me, either, she is blissfully unaware that I am here. I do believe it is best like that. It is over. It was over many years ago. She has her Victome and I have my solitude.'

And with this he rose from his seat slowly and turned his back on the faithful Madame Giry for possibly the last ever time until…

…until she did something entirely unprecedented. She stood carefully and walked up behind him, she reached out and touched his shoulder softly and in the surprise he turned to face her only to be met by her arms firmly around his waist, pulling him close. For a moment he was too shocked to react, his throat caught a lump and he swallowed it back down, hard. He stood, frozen to the spot with her arms around him but then he raised his own hands returning her action by holding the ballet mistress near like the friend she had always been as he let a salty tear escape his cold eye.