Disclaimer: I do not own Erik the Phantom, and yet he owns me...sigh...
A/N: Thanks to one and all for your wonderful reviews! If you have an e-mail address on record, I will be sure to send you a "thank you" e-mail. If not, I will send a reply through the new "review reply" feature on the site. Stay "tuned", and I hope you continue to enjoy! There are quite a few touches of Kay in this story. If you have read her book, you are sure to notice them.
Chapter 2 - Closer Than A Brother
Erik
Gently adjusting Christine in my arms, I softly caressed her cheek with one hand. She had no reaction. I tenderly lowered her to the cobblestones, not having any other choice, since I needed to check her pulse. It was light and fast. Next I put my left hand upon her brow. Ah, I had suspected as much...she was a bit warmer than normal. She must have fallen into the lake in her rush to return to me. Perhaps that blasted boy had tried to prevent her from doing so! In the ensuing struggle, she would then have lost her footing, to fall headlong into the lake. She was completely drenched. I had to find a place in which I could properly tend to her. She might very well catch a deathly chill. Oh, I knew exactly where to go! Nadir's apartment was not far from the Opera House.
I still remembered quite vividly my first encounter with him, years after my sojourn in Persia, when we shared a brougham on a bitterly cold Parisian night. We had renewed our unusual friendship. After all, no one can quite get along without a good conscience, can one? I daresay not! In spite of my sarcastic banter, and his overly zealous supervision of my activities, we are in truth closer than brothers, although neither one of us would, I am certain, willingly admit it to the other. Yes, I would definitely take my beloved Christine to Nadir's apartment...
I lifted her slight weight again, making sure that her head did not dangle uncomfortably, and moved off at a slow trot. The alley was totally deserted. As I came out of it onto a street, I desperately looked around for another alley entrance. There were a few people walking about. However, since the disaster at the Opera House was on the opposite side of the block where I now stood, I supposed the crowds must have gathered there. Still, I knew that now my highly unusual face was openly displayed for all to see, although I hoped it would not be as noticeable in the darkness of this moonless night. On the other hand, I carried an unconscious woman in my arms. The worst could quite easily be assumed...With this in mind, I slowed my pace, when my every instinct screamed out to me to run. I again adjusted Christine, resting her head on my right shoulder. Her abundant, richly-textured curls did hide to some extent the infamous right side of my face. Unfortunately, I could do nothing to hide the fact that my clothes, as well as hers, were completely sodden. Yet, I told myself that if I refrained from running madly, I might be able to pass among these few late-evening promenaders without attracting much notice. Alas, it was not to be...
"You, there!" called out a peremptory voice. "I say, you, there ! Where are you going with that woman ? Stop at once!"
I did not even turn around to see who was trying to detain me, although I would have been surprised if it had not been a gendarme. I gave free rein to my instincts, turning my apparently casual walking pace into a mad rush for the closest sheltering alley. Although I had not run regularly in years, I was in excellent physical shape, due to my endless traversing of all the hidden passageways and tunnels of the Opera House. Although my boots were wet also, they fit very snugly, and I had always been sure-footed, mercifully enough. This little talent had often served me well in the past, when running from people had actually been a matter of life and death!
As I began to run, I heard a loud whistle blowing behind me. I had been right. A gendarme, indeed! I increased my speed, and felt once again the rush of excitement that running brings, the sense of exultation and power...It mattered not that my arms were burdened. I felt that I was master of the wind!
I dashed down another alley, sure that I could not possibly have someone after me, not at the speed I had reached. Yet I was sure I heard running steps behind me. After a few minutes of exhilaration, I became concerned that I might stumble on some obstacle, and Christine could take a very nasty spill. I therefore slowed my speed. I was by no means out of breath, however. I could have continued my headlong race for a much longer time. Still following the alley, I discovered a stone staircase on the outside of one of the buildings. Again purely on instinct, I immediately began to climb the steps...
As I started to climb, I felt Christine stirring in my arms. She groaned weakly. I continued to climb swiftly, until I had gone up three floors. There I found a doorway that was recessed into the wall, and I gratefully leaned into it. I listened intently. If I had been followed, I would soon hear voices below.
I did not have long to wait. An extremely vulgar French expletive was heard from the floor of the alley. It was answered by another voice.
"We've lost the fellow!" shouted the same voice that had thrown the vulgarity to the winds.
The other voice snorted in derision. "Aye, mon!"
I was quite surprised to hear the Scottish accent. 'What is a Scottie doing in Paris?' I wondered.
"D'ye think, lad, he might have vanished somehow ? Are ye quite sure of what ye saw?"
"Oh, I'm very sure, Monsieur" answered the Frenchman, almost contemptuously. "I know what I saw. The fellow had a most horrible face ! Half of it was entirely normal, but the other half...Mon Dieu ! He looked like the devil himself, he did, and no mistake!"
They had not yet thought of looking up and investigating the staircase. I had not a moment to lose...
"What was that ?" exclaimed the Frenchman suddenly. "I heard a groan from behind us, back the way we came! Ah, so he would try to give us the slip, would he? We've got him now, my friend!" With that, they turned right around and ran back toward the entrance to the alley. As they ran, I threw my voice further on, to the very entrance, while climbing back down the staircase. With my unique skill and a good deal of luck, those two fools would not realize, until it was too late, that I truly had given them the slip! To think that I first took up ventriloquism in a moment of tedious ennui...
Once back on the ground, I cautiously looked back for an instant, then started up again at a fast trot. Christine again stirred, groaning.
"Erik..." she mumbled. "So thirsty...Don't leave...me...Erik..." She tried to cling to me, but her hand fell away, and she lapsed into unconsciousness once more. I felt her forehead. It was much warmer now. I stopped briefly to press a feather-soft kiss upon her pale lips, then hurried on.
Soon I was on more familiar territory. I was drawing near to the building where Nadir lived. I stepped up my pace until I was at last standing right in front of it. He did not live in great luxury, as he received a small pension from the Persian government, which was sufficient for his needs, as he was wont to point out to me. He did retain the services of Darius, his long-time assistant. I therefore confidently rang the little bell on the side of the doorway.
Not a soul was to be seen on this street, a fact for which I was immensely grateful. As I waited out the seconds, then the minutes, I hoped the building was occupied, at least. I had no idea of the time, of course, but it must be well past midnight by now. Performances at the Opera House usually ended close to eleven o'clock. I estimated that more than two hours had already elapsed from the time I had whisked Christine away from the stage, to the present moment. I was unsure of Nadir's sleeping habits, but surely his servant would still be awake. I rang the bell again, more forcefully this time.
Nothing happened for an entire minute. Cursing under my breath, I balanced myself carefully, and directed a well-placed kick at the door.
"I don't believe anything is ever achieved by brute force, my dear Phantom," drawled an extremely familiar voice. I turned halfway around, to look upon the dratted Persian, who gravely stood before me, half-hidden in the darkness.
"Ah, my conscience appears once again, I see," I said, with an ironic smile. "Dear friend, for the love of all you hold most sacred, kindly open the door!"
The Persian glanced at my sweet burden. "You would not bring her here if she were dead, would you, Erik?" he cautiously inquired.
I was beginning to lose my patience. "Come, man, she is burning up with fever ! I would not be able to tend to her at my home, since it must be completely destroyed by now!"
"Ah, yes...the fire at the Opera House...I knew you must have had someting to do with that..."
"Nadir!" I screamed, beyond myself now.
He sighed, patiently. "Yes, indeed," he commented, as he came forward to unlock the door. "I see that he who would attempt to exile himself from the entire human race has succumbed to the power of love, just as any of us ordinary mortals might do!"
The door opened, and I found myself in a dark vestibule.
"Give me a moment, Erik, while I adjust the gas jets," said the daroga as he moved into the room, right behind me. Just as my eyes were beginning to grow accustomed to the darkness, which never took long for me, the room was suddenly lit by a soft, warm glow that suffused everything with golden hues.
"This way," said Nadir, taking a candle from a sideboard and lighting it. He led me down a passageway, and then turned a corner. A wooden staircase appeared, which we ascended as rapidly as my nerves urged us. Upon our arrival on the second floor, Nadir quickly led me down another passageway. We stopped at a door located at the end of it, which Nadir also unlocked.
Pushing past him, I ran into his apartment, looking around in haste for the entrance to his bedroom.
"Nadir," I shouted, "where is your blasted bedroom? I must lay her down at once!"
"Let me show you," he said, with a calmness that infuriated me. "I have the candle, after all. Walk ahead of me. I will light your way. Here, turn to the right."
He brought us into a small, sparsely-furnished bedroom. Ah, but the bed, it was sumptuous! Truly fit for a sultan or princeling of Persia!
I knew it would be extremely, luxuriously, comfortable, as well.
I laid her upon it as gently and reverently as I could. Smoothing her wet curls from her forehead, I placed my hand once more upon it. She was indeed burning up...I had to work as quickly as I could to remove her soaked clothing.
"Nadir!" I called out behind me, as I began to tear off her clothes with no care to their remaining intact for later use.
"I am here, Erik," he answered at once, at last catching my urgency. "What would you have me do?"
"Have your servant draw up a bath at once!" I commanded, with all the authority that my voice was capable of. "If he is not awake to perform the task, perform it yourself!"
Without a word, Nadir spun on his heels and went to do as I had ordered. I, meanwhile, continued to strip my Christine of her clothing, knowing full well what I would be experiencing when she finally lay fully exposed before my eyes. As I rid her of that damnable corset -- an instrument of torture, I considered these dastardly things to be -- my blood began to pound in my ears. I peeled down her stockings, tearing them in the process, after having swiftly removed her garters. Next I disposed of her chemise, just as swiftly. There she lay, in all her unclothed beauty. I took a deep breath, and firmly handled the rising flame of passion with brutal control.
Wrapping one of the sheets around her to shield her innocence from any other eyes but mine, I picked her up, calling for Nadir.
"Bring her in, my friend!" he answered, "The bath is ready."
"Have you any ice?" I called out, as I walked toward the bathroom. Nadir immediately moved aside to let me pass.
"I regret to say that I have none." I was able to discern the concern and sincere regret in his voice, but was too distressed myself to allow any degree of gratitude toward him to show on my face.
"Please shut the door and leave us," I said, in a rather curt voice. He obeyed without question.
I unwound the sheet from around her with one hand, rather awkwardly, and, throwing it on a small table next to the sink, lowered her into the bathtub with the greatest care. I washed and rinsed her lovingly, not forgetting her hair,taking no longer than necessary, then tenderly dried her off.
I emerged from the bathroom with Christine securely wrapped in the sheet, nestled in my arms. When I entered the bedroom, I found a sweetly immodest nightgown laid out on the bed for her. Ah, I thought, a memento from one of his lady friends... Well, it would simply have to do. Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I slipped the nightgown over her head, and prepared her for bed, covering her with the blankets. Then I smoothed her hair out on the pillow. She seemed to smile a little. Her forehead was still hot to the touch, but. I had nothing to break the hold the fever had upon her. All I could do was to keep her warm, and watch over her. Nature would do the rest.
I sat on the bed, next to her, and watched her by the light of the three candles Nadir had thoughtfully lit and placed on the small night table. I sighed, feeling utterly powerless. This angered me. I did not like this feeling of not being in control. I had not felt this way since I was a child, in my mother's house, and subject to what seemed to me at the time to be her unreasonable whims.
How long I sat thus, quietly seething as I stared at her, I do not know. I almost jumped up in surprise when I heard Nadir's voice at my elbow. I had entirely forgotten he existed...
"How is she?" he asked softly, seating himself on a Persian rug that lay beneath the only window in the room. He had already made sure to partially close it, so that no drafts could reach Christine. I had gratefully noticed this, also.
"Since there is no way for me to cool her down, we shall simply have to wait, my friend," I answered, dejectedly.
"Perhaps not, Erik," he said, mysteriously.
I looked at him in some perplexity.
"There is One who will help you, if you care to turn to Him"
I stiffened immediately, feeling a surge of anger which I did my best to quell.
"I beg of you, my dear daroga, not to mention such things to me. You know how I feel about this wonderful God you are so fond of." I almost choked on the word "God" as I spoke.
"Erik," he answered in a very soft voice, "I know that, deep inside, you do believe in Him. You were taught about Him as a young child. It's there, I can see it in you, although you do your best to push it away."
"Please leave the room, Nadir," I hissed, not looking at him. My anger had clutched my throat, and would soon burst forth, uncontrolled. I dared not look at him, fearing that I might hurt him.
"Erik," he persisted, in a very, very soft tone of voice now, "I want to help you. Do not be angry with me. I will leave you alone now, if you wish, but I would ask a favor from you before I go."
I looked over at him, and saw that his eyes were glistening strangely. I felt some remorse at having spoken to him in anger.
"Forgive me, daroga," I whispered, hoarsely. "I am in an extremely distraught state of mind. I don't want to lose her...She is my life... What favor do you want from me?"
"Allow me to give you some advice concerning this woman you love so. Never speak to her about your hatred of the Lord of All. She does not feel as you do. You must instead encourage her in her devotion to Him, for you will surely lose her love if you don't. And now, I will leave you, so that I may offer up prayers to my Allah on her behalf."
So saying, he arose to leave. I arose, too, and we stood, man to man, face to face, for a moment. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I hesitantly did the same. We looked at each other.
"You are a man, Erik," he whispered. "And you feel as all other men do, when they are in love. Do not despair, for even though you truly believe the Almighty has deserted you, it is not so."
So saying, he dropped his hands from my shoulders, and I did the same. He then bowed to me, his hands steepled together in front of his chest. I did the same. Without further ado, he quietly left the room.
Although I knew it was going to be a very long, long night, I now felt a faint flicker of hope...
It was only much later, when I noticed that Christine seemed to have settled into a peaceful sleep, that I realized, thunderstruck, that Nadir had seen my uncovered face for the very first time, and had made no comment. Neither had he recoiled in horror.
"Closer than a brother," I whispered huskily to myself, almost overcome with emotion.