Nadir hopped from the cab as soon as it stopped, sprung across the sidewalk and into the building, leaving Darius to pay the cab driver. He knew he shouldn't have travelled to Versailles today. He had the feeling that something was going to be terribly wrong. Damned be his love for palaces and beautiful gardens. Damned be Erik's constant teasing about Nadir not daring to go and see if the restorers had ruined his favourite corner of the Petit Trianon. As soon as Nadir saw Darius' face at the train station, he knew that his foreboding premonition had been right. Sixty-three years and he still didn't know that he had to follow his heart in these matters? He prayed to Allah he wasn't too late.

He knocked at Erik's door and leant his hands on his knees, trying to regain his breath. The door opened, and Nadir nodded at a grave looking Françoise, who took his coat and hat.

"How is he?" he asked as soon as he could muster the first few words.

Françoise bit her lip and looked away.

"He hasn't woken up yet, Monsieur. The doctor said. . ."

Nadir clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew how this worked. The longer it took Erik to regain consciousness, the more likely it was he wouldn't outlive the attack.

"Gracie?"

"She's with him, Monsieur. She has been in his room the whole time."

Nadir nodded again, and headed straight to Erik's room. At the sound of his firm footsteps, Gracie darted out of the room and fell into his arms. She held the lapels of his jacket tightly and leant her head on his chest, shaking uncontrollably. Nadir held her, rubbing her back and making small, hushed sounds. She leant heavily against him, and he stood still, supporting her. It wasn't long before Nadir's shirt became wet with tears. He nodded towards Françoise. The maid immediately went into Erik's room.

"Come now, come now, little one," he cooed. "Let's go into the sitting room. Françoise will keep him company and Darius will make you some tea."

Darius, who had come into the apartment by then, nodded once and made his way into the kitchen.

Gracie clung to Nadir and refused to give a step.

"I can't. . . We can't go into the sitting room," she whimpered.

Nadir took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, his eyebrows arched in a mute question.

"Mademoiselle. . . Daaé is in the sitting room," she explained quietly, though the woman would not have understood them anyway since they were speaking Farsi. "She was visiting today."

"All right, but you have to sit down."

Nadir guided Gracie to a chair on the hall and crouched in front of her. He offered her his handkerchief but she showed him her own, now a wrinkled ball of cloth. It would be good enough, thought Nadir, and put his handkerchief back into his pocket.

"What time did this happen, Gracie?"

"Right after lunch. He said his old bones were protesting, and that he was going to have a quick nap. He didn't even make it to his room. . ."

"All right, all right, child," crooned Nadir as he patted her knee. "When will doctor Albaret come back?"

"He just left. He said to call upon him if there were any news."

Nadir nodded pensively and checked his watch. It was eight-thirty in the evening. Gracie had to get some rest and eat something before she fell ill with worry. He would take over the vigil by Erik's side. He would stay over the night and so would Darius, since Françoise also needed a good night's sleep. And Mademoiselle Daaé was in the sitting room. He would also have to take care of that.

"How long has Mademoiselle Daaé been here?"

"I don't know," sniffled Gracie.

"Does she know about your father's illness?"

She shrugged.

"I guess. . . I don't know. I wish she would go away!"

That caught Nadir by surprise. He had known about Gracie's hostility towards the former singer from the start, and was aware that her dislike had barely diminished in the last few months, but such an open display of ill will was over the top, no matter how worried Gracie was for Erik's well being.

"She is a guest in this house, Gracie," he reminded her sternly.

"She should know when she's overstaying her welcome, then!" Gracie retorted.

Nadir opened his mouth to tell her that, according to the rules of courtesy, no guest could ever overstay his welcome, and that it was her duty to treat Mademoiselle Daaé with politeness and respect, but a look at Gracie's pained features was enough to stop him. He couldn't scold her. Not now. The girl had gone through a terrible ordeal. She was tired and hungry. She would see things more objectively tomorrow.

"I'll take care of her, Gracie. Go to the kitchen and have something to eat. Then I want you to go to bed straightaway," he said as he slowly stood up.

"But Uncle Nadir. . ."

"No buts. Go," he ordered in his most commanding tone.

He smiled when she stood up and went down the hall without another protest. It was quite funny that both she and Erik still pledged to a slightly graver pitch of his voice. Erik. . . Nadir felt a pang at the thought of his good friend fighting for his life in the next room. He wiped his face with a hand. This would be a long night, he knew. He had experienced, first hand, the cruel anguish of sitting by Erik's bed, listening to him painfully taking breath after breath, wondering if the next would be the last. He had seen the darkest hour of the night, right after dawn, when he had prayed for the first lights to come faster if only to bring an apparent change. Better to take one thing at a time. Gracie had been taken care of. Now to Mademoiselle Daaé.

The sitting room was shrouded in shadows. The fire was burning low in the grate. Françoise had lit one lamp on the mantelpiece, but its light was not enough to illuminate the whole room. Nadir could barely discern the shadow standing by one of the windows. He dipped his head in a courteous greeting.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Daaé."

She turned around at the sound of his voice and came forth. Nadir had to carefully rein his features to keep the polite, impassive expression on his face. Her wide eyes, her thinness and the pallor of her face, contrasting with the dark grey of her wrinkled dress made her look like a ghost. She looked at him in confusion, and then her features softened, as she slowly remembered him.

"Monsieur," she whispered, her melodious voice otherworldly, befitting an apparition. "You used to frequent the Opéra Populaire. . ."

Nadir nodded.

"I often went there to visit a friend," he explained.

Her face lighted with recognition, and she smiled at him. Nadir was astonished. That smile enlivened her face in such a way that it was as if a corpse became a living being again.

"You are Erik's friend. You saved him," she said.

Those words threw Nadir into confusion. Had she gone mad now?

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle?"

"Back at the Opéra. You saved him from the mob."

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I was actually too late to prevent him being shot."

"But you did save his life. He told me."

Nadir's felt his colour rise under her gaze. He looked away. He couldn't take her gratitude. Not when Erik. . .

"Have you had anything to eat, Mademoiselle?" he asked.

She seemed a little taken aback by the change of subject.

"Yes. . . no. . . I. . . I don't. . ." she stuttered.

"I take it you haven't. Please, excuse me for a minute."

He quickly ducked his head and hurried over to the kitchen. He was happy to notice there was a steaming pot on the stove and Gracie was finishing a plate of soup. There was a large glass of milk in front of her. Praised be Françoise's prevision. That woman's practical sense could keep an army marching through the worst of crisis. He ordered Darius to serve two dishes and take them to the dining room, and then, lifting a foreboding finger, he reminded Gracie to go to bed once she had drunk her milk. He turned around and went back to the sitting room.

"Supper will be served in a minute, Mademoiselle," he said, gesturing for her to sit on the couch.

"It's very kind of you, Monsieur, but you really don't have to. . ."

"Mademoiselle, please. We have both had a long day and a long night awaits us."

She sat on the couch without another word. Nadir paced the length of the room slowly, planning what to say to her. He nodded at Darius when the manservant opened the doors to the dining room.

"Please, Mademoiselle," he said, and extended his arm, inviting her to the dining room.

She waited for him to pull the chair for her. He seated her and then sat across her. The delicious smell of homemade soup wafted towards him, and Nadir realised how hungry he was. He tilted the bread basket towards Mademoiselle Daaé, and she took a roll. They started eating in silence.

"How is he, Monsieur. . ." she stopped, and reddened.

"Kahn," he informed her. "Nadir Kahn."

"How is he, Monsieur Kahn?"

Nadir carefully considered what to say to her. He really didn't know how Erik was faring. It was too soon to know. In some serious attacks it had taken Erik up till two days to regain consciousness. In the milder ones, it could take from six to eight hours. Doctor Albaret's words had not been enlightening, and Nadir realised, with no little embarrassment, that he hadn't seen Erik yet. Not that it mattered much, really. Erik always looked like hell after an attack, no matter how mild it had been.

He looked at the woman. Despite the red-rimmed eyes and the pallor of her face, she seemed strangely composed. It seemed as if she could take the truth and she deserved it.

"I don't know, Mademoiselle. It will take time to know how severe the spell has been. It depends on how soon he will regain consciousness. Haven't you talked to the doctor?"

She shook her head and bit her lip. The doctor had come and gone three times without casting as much as a glance at her. Erik's daughter had not been out of Erik's room, and Françoise had been kind to her, but had not been a very good source of information. Christine had been as good as a ghost, waiting unseen and unheard in the sitting room. But it was to be expected. She was but an acquaintance to the household, and not a much liked one at that.

Nadir shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry nobody has explained this to you. You should have been better informed."

"It is all right, Monsieur Kahn. It's perfectly natural. I'm not part of the family," she said, and Nadir was surprised to hear the resigned, bitter tone of her voice.

There was a strained silence, only interrupted by the clanging of the spoons and the butter knives against the china.

"Monsieur Kahn. . ."

"Yes?"

"Has Erik had these attacks before?"

Nadir stared at her, surprised.

"Yes," he answered at last. "He has suffered from a heart condition for many years now."

Her eyes darted away. In the fleeting glimpse of torment he saw before she evaded his look, he clearly read deep regret.

"I never knew. . ."

"You couldn't have. He was never fond of talking about it."

"He. . ." she started, tracing small circles with the butt of her knife on the tablecloth. "Once, at the Opéra, he failed to come to a music lesson. . . He didn't show up in almost a week. I thought. . . I thought I had somehow wronged him. I thought he was upset," her voice had become a whisper.

Nadir reached out to her over the table, and squeezed her hand. The shock of having a virtual stranger grab her hand was enough to pull her out of her misery.

"It is not time to dwell on the past, Mademoiselle Daaé. I know Erik would be happy to know you were here today. And. . . Well, he might not be willing to see you when he regains consciousness. He is the master of denial," huffed Nadir. "He cannot bear to show weakness. But it will mean a lot to him if you try."

Two silent tears rolled down Christine Daaé's cheeks. She quickly dashed them away. Nadir stood up, to give her a little time to compose herself. They went back into the sitting room.

"I think you need a good night's sleep Mademoiselle," stated Nadir, and hoped she wouldn't take his earnest offer as a trespassing on her privacy. "I will stay here and keep a vigil on Erik. My apartment is not far away and it has a passable guest room. You are welcome to stay there. Darius will escort you."

She blinked in surprise, took a hand to her chest.

"You are very kind, Monsieur Kahn, but I cannot possibly accept. . ."

"Please, Mademoiselle," Nadir insisted, relieved that she had taken no offence. "You have missed the last train to Normandy. It is an honour for me to welcome you in my home."

"Thank you Monsieur Kahn. I thank you for your offer but. . . I have a place to stay here in Paris."

He regarded her evenly, trying to weigh whether she was telling the truth. She probably had some friends she would be more comfortable with.

"All right, then. Darius will escort you to your friend's home."

"No, Monsieur. You're too kind but. . ."

"I will accept no apologies. You have to rest, and it is not safe for a woman to go about Paris unescorted at this hour of the night."

Nadir turned around and strode towards the kitchen. When he came back, followed by Darius, Mademoiselle Daaé was standing by the entrance, her cloak already on, an uncertain look on her face. Nadir felt a pang of regret. He really wanted to start his vigil by Erik's side, but hadn't meant to dismiss her so efficiently. He didn't want her to feel unwelcome. Perhaps he had been too abrupt?

"You will call in tomorrow, Mademoiselle, will you not? We will know how Erik is faring in the morning," he said in his kindest voice.

A small smile quirked the corners of her mouth.

"If I'm not disturbing. . ."

"No, of course not. Try to get some sleep and please come back tomorrow. I'll probably be sleeping by the time you come, but Gracie will give you news."

Christine Daaé couldn't help a small huff.

"I'm not appreciated by Erik's daughter. . ."

Nadir nodded.

"I know. But she'll obey her uncle."

He saw her blink in confusion, and couldn't help a small chuckle.

"She's always followed Uncle Nadir's orders, Mademoiselle. Please, know you will always be welcome in this house."

Instead of laughing with him, she blinked rapidly, moved to tears once again.

"Thank. . . thank you Monsieur."

She curtsied. Nadir stood by open door and watched as she and Darius went down the stairs. He then closed the door and went to Erik's room. His vigil had begun.


Author's notes: Chapter 34 was so short I figured out I'd better update two chapters the same day...

There's something else that's not strictly canonical about this chapter. In Kay's phantom Christine witnesses one of Erik's attack. I thought it made a nice dramatic effect that she ignored all about it in this story. I hope you bear with me!

Thank you all (Moomoo-sama, Sue Raven, Rossignol, Allegratree, Chibi-binasu chan, Nicole Gruebel, HDKingsbury, Sarah and Clever Lass) for the long, thoughtful reviews! You really make my day.

HDKingsbury: I'm happy you liked my characterisation of Gracie. She is in fact based on some younger members of my family. And Sarah, I hope Françoise's role in the last chapter were up to your expectations. There will be a bit more of her in the coming chapters.