The next morning over breakfast, Nadir and Madame Giry eyed me nervously. I had replaced the white mask once more on my face, and my bathrobe hung off me in a tired way. My hand was wrapped in the same bandages it had been the night before, and I still couldn't move it. I was pretty sure several bones had been shattered. I hadn't touched my food. Madame Giry kept looking like she wanted to say something, and then would change her mind. Finally, it was Nadir who spoke.

"We have to take you to a doctor, Erik. This could all be very serious."

I didn't say anything, but stared intently at my untouched food. The last thing I wanted was to be poked and prodded.

"We can find one that's not in Paris," Madame Giry added, "so that you're less likely to be recognized."

I sighed. "Alright. I suppose we should leave immediately."

They both agreed. A half-hour later I was dressed in my usual black as we headed outside to a carriage. After he had paid the driver, Nadir stepped in after Madame Giry and I. Once the door was shut and we were under way, both of them turned to me. Madame Giry spoke.

"So Erik, we want to know what happened."

I paused, then told them the story of my last few months, leaving out a few select details, such as how physically close I had gotten to Christine. It was too painful to recollect right at that moment; plus, I was sure Madame Giry would disapprove; after all, Christine was a married woman.

I finished the story fairly calmly, losing composure for a second only when I described how Christine had said she loved me. Madame Giry didn't look surprised at all.

"She told me once in a letter that she did. After they had read that you were dead, after she had left the Opera, she still often wrote to Meg and me. I knew she was unhappy, but I also knew that if you went to her, itd be a disaster all over again."

The older woman looked almost as stressed as I felt.

"It's alright, Madame, at least now I know for myself that it would never work between Miss Daee and I. Two tries have been plenty enough. No more."

Everyone in the carriage knew that I said this with no conviction.

Visiting the doctor was awkward, but didn't last too long. He rambled on to Nadir about me being "a case unlike any other," and how my unbelievable birth defect was "not helped any by the burns." I sometimes wish that I didn't have such good hearing.

I was given a special ointment for my face, and a cast on my hand, to help the bones heal back into place. The doctor said it was impossible to tell whether I'd regain the same skills at playing piano.

"You're lucky it was your left, otherwise you couldn't write either."

Ha ha. Me, lucky. I tried to avoid this self pity, however, and as we rode back home, I felt slightly optimistic that I could regain my abilities.

As we neared Paris, Madame Giry spoke.

"Erik, would you like to stop by the Opera House? It is pretty deserted in the afternoons."

I hesitated. I wasn't sure I was ready for the inevitable memories that would flood me.

"Can we use one of the secret back entrances, just in case?"

She laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything else from the Phantom."