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"Who is this man?" Erik roared at the two. It had been a frustratingly few days that Erik stayed with his old friend Nadir. Madame Giry stopped by everyday to be sure that Erik had stayed and did not kill the once police chief. She had told them both that the mob was still searching in the caverns, which meant that Erik could not return to his lair just yet. The only strange thing was that the police had left. The once Phantom of the Opera knew that bloodlust was and would always be stronger than the law no matter what his Persian friend would say. This, of course, frustrated him to no end because he wanted to search his domain for this killer who was framing him. Any other time, he would not have cared, but he had to take care of his angel for he knew that her husband, the fop, could never do that job.

"Erik, calm yourself," the Persian chided sipping at his tea trying to be patient, though he thought that digging a hole to the other side of the Earth would be easier. He looked towards the ballet mistress for help in calming the pacing masked tiger in his home.

"How?" the Opera Ghost spat while walking past Nadir for what must have been the 100th time. "I am getting framed by a man in my home threatening my Christine!"

"She's not yours!" Madame Giry yelled at him after having enough of it all. They stayed in silence while both men stared at the women. "She has a husband Erik. You must take care of yourself now. Her husband will protect-"

"He won't!" Erik yelled not wanting to hear her truth. He still wanted to hold the idea of her being a child looking up to him for hope and guidance. He was her Angel of Music. She had called him an angel and had loved him for being her angel. When she had found that he was instead of an angel, but a demon, she had left.

"Erik," Madame Giry said softly while patting his arm, stirring him from his cell inside his mind. "Erik? You truly haven't done a thing since your opera," she said in awe. Since the day she had met him he was always doing something whether it be drawing, writing, composing, inventing, building or anything else that piqued his interest. Now, she saw for a fact that he had done one thing and that was rest with his broken heart. She felt horrible now for thinking that he was in anyway involved. "But then…how did you send that note?"

"What note?" the Phantom asked confused at what she had said. The last time he had written a note was before his opera.

Madame Giry looked in the folds of her coat and pulled out a piece of parchment with red ink. Before she had a chance to read it Erik tore it from her grasp and began to read the blood-red ink.

Fondest Greetings,

I will be staying here at your Opera House for an extended period of time. I wish for you all to leave us be as we search for an old acquaintance and get rid of the ghosts of this opera house. You will offer the very best to us and not go down should you be keen on keeping your life.

Regards,

SoP

In his anger Erik crumpled the note and began shredding the parchment. "Damn whomever this person is! How dare they made a mockery of all I have done. I will go and remove them from my home! Damn them! Curse them!" he roared as he begun to storm off. Nadir stood in front of the door not allowing him a way out.

"Erik, think about what you have just read. They are looking for you. Who knows what they could do?" he questioned. "You cannot act rash."

"I can act anyway I would like. They are making a mockery of me!"

"They also want to 'get rid' of you. Erik, please…you've put your life at risk for so long, why now? There is nothing to protect except your life."

"Forget your pride for once Erik!" Madame Giry yelled at him holding his arm.

Erik stayed silent. Both Nadir and Madame Giry knew that Erik hadn't given up yet, but was actually planning. Erik was not a man to give up. The word 'impossible' did not exist to him. Nadir walked over to him.

"Come on…let's have some tea."

All of them went into the kitchen. Erik stayed quiet lost in his thoughts and planning. Without his notice Madame Giry left to talk with the Persian.

"He will not let this go," she whispered to him.

"He doesn't let anything go. He remembers everything and does everything. A da Vinci man."

"You're not helping," she growled.

"There is not way to stop him. You know that. He is a master magician, ventriloquist, architect, inventor, artist, scientist, vocalist and anything else you could imagine. We cannot stop this man. I have seen him drive men to madness and their death and guide others to a superb life with a happy end. Everything seems to be on a whim, but believe me; he'll think it through. He fights through everything with the grace of a cat, cunning of a fox, strength of a tiger, and the gentleness of a lamb and the heart of a lion. Not even a room full of armed French guards with the doors barred and all exits watched could stop him from doing what he wanted. Madame, it is quite impossible to hold him and his imagination," he said with a small smirk and a nod in the direction of the living room, knowing the Phantom was listening to every word. "We should just leave him be. Whatever happens, it will be his choice. He can't blame anyone for his own injuries whether it be physical or otherwise."

"I will be quite fine. Stop worrying over me like an old hen," Erik muttered from the other room with a small smile of knowing.

Madame Giry walked over to the contiguous room with the tea. "Please stay here for one more night. Please Erik? Let me at least look around. Now sit still and drink your tea."

They all sat together discussing what they would do. Before the night was through they wanted a plan or at least a beginning of one.

Meg Giry rushed over to the mail carrier. "Did I get anything Monsieur?" she asked.

"Here you are Mademoiselle," the man said handing her her letter.

She took it and ran to her room. Looking at the pack of letters she found a note from Normandy. "How strange, this letter's open…"