Disclaimer: I own none of these wonderful characters...why is life so unfair?

Chapter 6: Two 'Gentlemen' of Paris

Erik

I should have known that my dear daroga would take the situation in hand. I could picture him calmly facing that gloating, infuriating little aristocrat with unflappable dignity.

"My dear Vicomte," he replied, his voice smooth as silk. "What if I had merely been interested in salvaging a souvenir from the disaster at the Opera House?"

The boy snorted, obviously angered by such an explanation.

"A souvernir, Nadir?" he all but sneered. "Come, now, just why would you want a souvenir, to remind you of what you went through at the Phantom's hands? You must surely fabricate a more convincing story, my friend!"

Nadir was not intimidated in the least by this outburst.

"Monsieur, why would I not want a souvenir of such a fascinating personage? But there is more to it than that, my boy...I have an exceedingly good reason for wanting such a souvenir! The man has vanished, and I would like to have a memento of him..."

"You are not explaining yourself very well, daroga!" The boy was raising his voice! Incredible! He had some spine, after all. I could not help but chuckle softly in the darkness. Christine stirred agaisnt me, chuckling as well.

Nadir let out an exasperated breath. "Oh, very well! I'll tell you! He was very kind to my little son, who was dying from a rare disease! He even eased his passing into the next world! There! What more would you know?"

We heard him cry out in anguish. There was a short silence.

"Nadir," said the maddeningly annoying Vicomte at length. "I...am sorry. I truly had not known...Yet how could such a mad killer have done such a thing?"

"You don't know him as I do!" burst out the daroga, his voice trembling. "He is not the monster you think him to be, I tell you! Now, will all of you please leave me and my servant to enjoy our breakfast in peace!"

The detective now spoke up. "Monsieur, I must ask you to accompany us. We need to question you further. Let me have the mask, if you please. You say you salvaged it? Just how did you accomplish this? It was madness after the outraged patrons overran the Phantom's lair. So the reports have informed me."

"I know how to enter the Opera House, dear sir. Erik was my friend, even though we...had some differences. I knew where he would have kept this particular mask, as he has several. I searched for it, and found it. That is all."

"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I must nevertheless take you to the police station. You may provide some useful information, since you seem to have been very close to him. Come."

From our cramped hiding place, we heard steps again, moving toward the door. It opened and closed, and then there was silence. Christine squeezed my hand. We both whispered the same question to each other: "Where is Darius?"

Now we abruptly heard a scratching noise immediately above our heads. There was a slight creak as the piece of wooden floor serving as a door was pulled up, and daylight flooded our little hideout. The manservant's grim face appeared at the aperture.

"They are gone, Mademoiselle, Monsieur," he needlessly informed us. "They have taken my master!" His face plainly showed his distress. Then he held his hand down into the darkness of the little storeroom, to help Christine up the steps.

I helped her to stand, and she ascended the steps rather stiffly, guided by Darius's hand. Then I went up, stiffly as well. We had been in there so long that our limbs had gone to sleep.

Darius pushed the "door" down, and pulled the rug over it, as Christine and I stretched out our limbs. Then he looked expectantly up at me. I noticed, wryly, that he no longer seemed to fear or be shocked by my face.

Christine, too, was looking expectantly at me. "What shall we do now, Erik?" I could not help but notice the anxiety in her voice, though she unsuccessfully tried to hide it.

I looked over at her. One of my hands went to her cheek, which I caressed, lingeringly. Her eyes held such trust in them! Was I truly deserving of it? What madness had I brought her into?

"My love," I answered, after pausing for a moment, "It seems we must leave this place as soon as possible. We are endangering Nadir. But we must wait for nightfall. We would be seen were we to attempt it now, in broad daylight."

Her eyes softened as she continued to stare at me. They told me that she would follow me anywhere.

"Monsieur," Darius interrupted. "She would be recognized immediately. She is very well-known in the city, so my master has told me."

I looked at him. "Surely, my friend, Nadir has some extra clothing we could both wear."

Darius assented. "Yes, he does, Monsieur. Come with me, and I will show you both."

As night fell softly over the Parisian streets, two elegantly dressed gentlemen were seen to emerge from a building on the Rue des Anges, as it was nicknamed. One appeared to be of foreign origin, as he was swathed in long, flowing garments. His face was partially covered by a turban. Those few who would have noticed paid them no heed, however. It was known in the neighborhood that a gentleman from Persia resided in the building. No one seemed to remember seeing that same gentleman exiting earlier, with the Parisian police, as well as a member of the aristocracy...

The foreigner's companion was a slender young boy, dressed as a proper French gentleman should be. His fashionable top hat, however, seemed to be just a tad too big for his head...

The two men walked leisurely along the street. It was a rather pleasant evening, although there was a slight chill in the air, which was not at all unusual for Paris. They were talking quietly, and went on for a couple of blocks before hailing a passing brougham. They then entered, and the brougham headed up the street, its horse also moving at a leisurely pace.

Christine

I could not help laughing as I looked over at Erik, who had now leaned back into his seat, unwinding the turban from around his face and head. Nadir's Persian attire had lent him a rather comical air, which now disappeared as the turban came off.

"Ah," he said, smiling at me, "it is good to hear you laugh. May I compliment you on your costume, 'Monsieur'? You look very dashing, indeed! That little mustache provides just the right touch!"

I had to laugh once more. I supposed I must have looked comical! I am sure that I appeared to be just a bit too young to be sporting a mustache. I now tore it off, and loosened the cravat I was wearing. How could men complain about women wearing corsets, when their attire was in many ways just as confining? I wanted to get out of the vest, the shirt, all of it! The one thing I found oddly liberating was the trousers. They were quite comfortable.

"Are you aware of just how narrow an escape we have had, my dear?" he now inquired.

"Yes," I answered, a little breathless from the excitement of our little adventure. Then I was suddenly reminded of our friend, the daroga. "Poor Nadir! He will be forced to tell them the truth, and they will then arrest him for harboring a fugitive!"

Erik chuckled, which surprised me. How could he find any humor in Nadir's present situation? His friend had risked himself for him!

"Do not fear for our dear daroga, my love," he soothingly said, as he gathered me into his arms. "He is quite capable of managing such matters, I assure you. After all, he helped me escape from Persia, when my life was not worth a single French franc!"

I looked up at him, as I felt myself firmly enveloped in his masculine warmth. There was so much I still did not know about this man I loved so!

"Where are we going now, Erik?" I ventured to ask him.

"I have a solicitor who resides in London, but I believe he is currently staying at a hotel in Montmartre. He can arrange a transfer of funds from my bank here in Paris, to its London branch. How would you feel about being married in England?"

I was taken totally by surprise, as I lay in his arms, my head comfortably resting on his chest. Was there no end to the mystery of Erik, no end to his apparently limitless resources?

Reluctantly lifting my head from his chest, I regarded him steadily for a few seconds. "You must be a very wealthy man!" I blurted out.

He smiled, grimly. "Alas, no, my love. My wealth cannot compare to that of the blasted Vicomte. You have chosen a veritable pauper, in comparison. Yet, I have enough for us to be comfortable. We shall surely lack for nothing. And you shall definitely sing again, my dear! Your talent is not one to be hidden away! Not by any means!"

"Then, perhaps Italy or Germany would be a more suitable destination, Erik," I suggested, demurely.

He smiled broadly as he caressed my cheek, moving his hand slowly, sensuously, down to my lips, to gently trace their outline as his eyes burned into mine.

"That can also be arranged, my sweet, sweet, Miss Daae," he whispered, lust making his beautiful voice hoarse.

Dipping his head, he gently placed his lips on mine, moving his own in a deliciously torturing manner. Closing my eyes, I gave myself up to his sweetly intoxicating kiss. Our tongues met and danced together, as his arms tightened possessively about me...