A/N: Like it says in this story's summary, this ficis based on the movie version but with some book details thrown in. So, in order to have the Persian involved, I'm going to have to use the Erik's book history instead of the history shown in the movie. But not strictly one or the other though, I'll mix it up, a bit of both. Hope you like :)

Also, The character of Nadir is going to be somewhat more difficult for me to write than Erik or Christine... so please bear with me, suggestions welcome!

Patronus99: Nadir is a character from the original Gaston Leroux book and the Susan Kay book, a.k.a. The Persian or Daroga

erik'sangel527: Fluff is on the way! Just another chapter or two, gotta get some of the "serious" stuff done, or my plot will go nowhere :-P

Theed: Now that you mention it, I do recall seeing that Star Wars thing in a couple of the movies… lol!

bulterphan666: You know, I seriously should do that, write an amazing book and have it blow up and it'll be huge and famous and I'll get millions for it. Then I can say "yep, it all started with Hey, I'm going to be inserting a minor character in the next chapter… you want to be a cameo? Just review or email me, and tell me what you look like and all those details. :)

Chapter 11

The two men just stared at each other, and Erik was aware of Christine watching the exchange of names in confusion.

Even though he had prepared himself for meeting Nadir again, he didn't quite realize the shock that would overwhelm him; the rush of old memories engulfing him, some good and some bad, some that were neither. He stared at the only man he ever thought to call a friend but yet hadn't seen in countless years. At a loss as what to do, he suddenly put out his hand formally.

Nadir grasped it and they shook, and he too seemed to abruptly snap to his senses. His eyes traveled to Christine, widened slightly, and flicked back to Erik.

Erik shrugged subtly. Both their faces were schooled into blank façades – an essential art they had both learned in the Shah's court– but their eyes said more than words or expressions could.

Nadir reached out and took Christine's pale hand in his own brown one. "A pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle." Always the gentleman, Erik thought.

"Thank you, Monsieur," Christine murmured.

"You may call me Nadir," he said with a smile, white teeth contrasting starkly against the dark of his skin. He guided her towards the open doorway, and she cast a quick confused look back to Erik, who stood with his hands behind his back, and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Go on, my dear," Nadir said, "There will be maids inside to help you unpack and freshen up."

She hesitated for just another moment before stepping inside out of the noonday sun.

As soon as she had disappeared into the building, Nadir turned slowly back to Erik, his pleasant demeanor to Christine wiped clean to show a chaos of emotions on his face. "Erik?" he said in disbelief. "Yes, Erik, it is you." He paused, staring at him. "Are you mad?"

"Quite sane, actually," he replied smoothly.

Nadir coughed and stood up straighter, eyeing Erik as if not sure he was really there. "Would you care to please explain what exactly you're… doing?"

Erik grinned sardonically. "Would you believe me if I said I was not quite sure?"

Nadir's black brow furrowed. "I think I would, Erik." He sighed resignedly, shaking his head. "Come inside."

x x x

Erik followed Nadir up a long narrow flight of stairs until they reached a wide corridor with numbered rooms on each side. "You've been doing quite well for yourself," Erik commented. The place was well kept, neat and clean with a solid wooden floor that thudded as they walked down the long hallway. The walls were hung with foreign tapestries, and the doors were dark cherry wood with numbers carved into them, one two three four five all the way down the hall until they passed ten and reached an unmarked door with an iron lock.

Nadir retrieved a matching key from his pocket and unlocked the door with a loud click. The door swung open to reveal a large study. It looked smaller than it really was due to the face that the walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with books of all sizes, shapes, conditions and color. The long line of bookshelves was broken only by a fireplace, the door, and tall windows on the opposite wall that overlooked a huge stretching back lawn.

A sheaf of papers was scattered across the dark wood desk that sat in the center of the room, placed like a mahogany island in a sea of blue-black carpet. Next to the desk was a matching wooden chest, carved with intricate designs. Déjà vu hit Erik suddenly, and it took him a moment to recognize it from so many years ago. Memories resurfaced that he thought he had long since forgotten, and he looked away from the chest, wanting to focus not on the disordered past but on the here and now. Which wasn't really much less disordered, now that he thought of it.

There were two armchairs situated around the fireplace and after shutting the door, Nadir strode over and sank down into the nearest one. Erik eyed his back for a moment before crossing the room and joining him in the other chair.

The two of them merely stared into the ashy emptiness of the darkened fireplace until Nadir said slowly, "You're just waiting for me to ask." He settled back against the chair, closing his eyes then reopening them and focusing on Erik. "So tell me."

Erik did.

It had been little more than an hour by the time he finished talking. Nadir was staring at him resignedly, his black eyes wide and incredulous. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Nadir just blinked as if awakening from a strange and unbelievable dream. "You've always delighted in shock value, Erik; but this time you've outdone yourself."

Erik let out a long breath. "Am I meant to thank you for the compliment?" He laughed softly, but his eyes were serious.

Nadir massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment. "So, lets summarize here. You've made off with a nobleman's fiancée, and the police are after you for that and for killing two men. And destroying the Paris Opera House! God knows what else."

"It wasn't destroyed. The fire did not reach more than three or four levels. Perfectly repairable."

Nadir gave him a look. There was silence for a moment before he said, "Were you followed here?"

"Of course not. You know me well enough to realize that I wouldn't allow that to happen."

Another long pause. Again, Nadir broke it. "Do you love her, Erik?"

Erik stared at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. He was speechless for a moment. "Of course I love her!" he replied forcefully, as if the question was so ludicrous that Nadir should already know the answer. "What a ridiculous question." His face softened. "Yes, I love her… more than myself, or my music… she is my music." He looked off across the room, and it was as if he was seeing something that Nadir couldn't.

"She loves me, Nadir. She loves me. Do you know what she said to me? She said, you are not alone. And she chose me."

He glanced up at Nadir, and raw emotion shone through his eyes. He looked away suddenly, somewhat self-conscious, and he got up and moved over to the window. He linked his hands behind his back and stared out at the wide grassy expanse of the lawn, dotted with trees and shrubs and a winding path through it. He saw two women moving along the path, one of them in a blue dress, and recognized her as Christine. He smiled to himself.