I am *sooo* sorry! I had hoped I would be able to update last weekend, but unfortunately I could not do so. This week was also rather busy and those of you who are still waiting for a review from me, I can assure you, I'll get to it later today.

Once again, I have to thank you all for reading, for adding to favorites and for putting on alert, but most of all, I have to thank my loyal reviewers! Without all of you, I would have given up long ago.

Anyway, here is the next chapter, and I hope you will like it. Our Erik is facing a difficult situation... and please keep in mind that none of these characters belong to me...

Chapter 6 – To Win the Chance to Live..

After Mme. Giry had left, Erik slumped in his chair. He replayed the conversation he had had with her in his mind, and he once again came to the conclusion that she was right. That if he wanted to win Christine's heart, he would also have to make sure that he could offer her a normal life. True, she could continue to sing at the Opéra Populaire, even if she lived with him down here in the cave that passed for a home. But, while this lair might be fine for him, even if he bought her the finest furniture and carpets, it would not be good enough for Christine.

His Christine needed sunshine and daylight. He could not expect her to waste away in this place of perpetual darkness, of stone and water, only illuminated by candles. This most definitely was no place for a young woman, and even less so for a child, though Erik was fairly certain that even if he won Christine's love and they got married there would be no children. He would have to find a way to avoid that possibility, for he would rather die than pass his deformity on to an innocent child.

But children or no children, the fact remained that his home was not a suitable place for Christine. And Mme. Giry also had a point when she had said that Christine needed a home with an address, where letters, notes, messages from friends or colleagues could reach her. And a husband that people could actually meet.

That was the hardest point. That and Antoinette's request that he find a job. But those two problems were interconnected, it all came down to one single fact: his face. If his face were normal, there would be no problem. He could apply for any job he liked anywhere he wanted and he would be able to earn a living for himself and his wife in an honest way. He would also be able to accompany her to parties, attend her performances, take her out to dinner or for a walk in the park, visit her father's grave with her, and so on. If his face were normal.

Erik sighed. Christine deserved a man that would be able to do all those things for her and with her. But how could he become that man, since there was no way he could change his face? Or could he? A few years ago he had experimented with a rubber mask that would be almost imperceptible, but his attempts at creating such a lifelike covering for his deformity had not been too successful. The material he had worked with had been rather brittle. While it could be formed easily, it was impossible to create the kind of smooth surface he had hoped for. It had also been rather itchy, not to mention the fact that it had caused him some skin irritation. The best he had been able to achieve had been a mask that he could tolerate wearing for maybe half an hour, useful if he needed to go out in the middle of the day, but it would certainly not make it possible for him to wear it for a whole workday, even less so, several days a week.

Still, a less noticeable mask was the only thing he could think of that might help him achieve all the things Mme. Giry had asked of him. He would have to look into this again, maybe try out different materials. Leather maybe? Or would it help if he painted his white mask a more natural, flesh-like color? If he used a thinner material than the porcelain he currently wore, and painted it to match his natural skin color, would people still notice his mask as much?

Erik groaned. It could take weeks, months, till his efforts in that direction would have the desired effect. Maybe even years. If it were true that Christine loved him, as Mme. Giry thought and he himself hoped, could he ask her to wait that long before they could get married? Was there another way he could secure a job and at least try to live like a normal man?

"Not here in Paris," Erik decided. Here he would not be able to find work unless he could somehow grow a new face. Here the stories about the masked Phantom that was haunting the Opéra Populaire were well-known, and any man wearing a mask would be suspected of being that famous entity. No, he could never apply for a job here, unless he wanted to risk getting arrested for extortion and other more or less minor crimes.

He would therefore have to consider moving to a different town. But where should he go? And how could he explore employment possibilities elsewhere when he had to stay here with Christine and court her? He certainly could not do both.

Erik remembered something else Mme. Giry had said. Nadir. His Persian acquaintance. Friend, Mme. Giry had called him, but the Persian was really more of a nuisance than a friend most of the time. True, he had saved Erik's life and had helped him escape from the Shah when the latter had decided that Erik's usefulness had come to an end, but he had such high moral standards and therefore did not approve of Erik's current way of life. How many times had Nadir told Erik that while he could somewhat understand that Erik wanted to be paid for his artistic advice, the threats were inappropriate, and the pranks even more so!

When Nadir had learned about Carlotta's accident that had prevented her from singing the opening night performance of "Hannibal", he had been downright appalled. He had told Erik that he was very disappointed in him, that he had hoped him to be a better man than that.

Erik laughed. It was not a happy sound, though, his laughter was bitter. Nadir would love his current situation. He would be at his most insufferable, if Erik asked him for help in his current dilemma. There would be no end to his gloating. "I told you so", he would say, or "at last you see reason." He would remind Erik of the many times he had already lectured him, preached to him, begged him to change his lifestyle, to become a more honorable member of society.

"I will not hear the end of it!" Erik groaned. Was that really an option? Could he ask Nadir for help? Would that pesky Persian even want to help him? And even if he wanted to – would he be able to?

"He is kind of an outcast, as well," Erik reminded himself. "Not as much for his looks like myself, but because of his cultural background and his religion. He might not be trusted too much. If he is seeking information, will he be able to get it any more than I would?"

Was it really worth to face the Persian's gloating, if the latter might not have any more success in securing a job for Erik than Erik himself? But what other option did he really have? Somehow Erik had to find a place where he and Christine could live together, and where he would be able to earn their living by working a regular job. This place could not be Paris, since his Phantom persona was too well known here. Their future home therefore had to be another town.

Of course Erik could leave the Opéra Populaire right away and travel around, looking for such a place. But that would mean he would have to leave Christine. He did not think this would be wise right now, with the new patron lusting for her. He did not want to leave her unprotected. Also, while he knew that Christine still considered him her friend, even though she now knew that he was no angel, that he was a disfigured man with a bad temper and on top of it all the Opéra Ghost that the authorities would love to get their hands on, he was not certain of her love yet. Mme. Giry seemed to be convinced that Christine loved him, and to be honest, he had made some observations as well that had given him hope. But what if he left now? If he went elsewhere in order to build a future for them.

Would Christine wait for him? They had not really spoken of love yet, only hinted at the possibility. It was too soon for such things, he knew it. He had to give Christine time to get to know him better, to adjust to the new situation. He could not ask her yet, could not say the binding words yet. But could he go before everything was clear between them? What would she think of him if he told her he had to leave, without being able to tell her when he would come back? Especially since he could not well tell her why he had to leave. Would she think he was abandoning her? Would she doubt his feelings for her?

Erik's fist hit the table in front of him. Hard. "I can't leave her, not now!" he screamed. "Not before I know for certain that she does love me, that she will wait. But even then, with the Vicomte around, it will not be wise to leave her unprotected. But to ask Nadir for help... !"

He felt like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was no ideal solution. Every option had its severe disadvantages. Every option had a distinct possibility of failure.

What should he do? Should he face Nadir, admit that the Persian had been right all along, that Erik needed a job and a home like any other man, live through the daroga's endless gloating, teasing and preaching, only to find out that it had been all in vain, that the Persian could not help him after all? Or should he go and check out the potential places himself? Which would mean leaving Christine behind, alone, unprotected. Prey to the Vicomte.

Erik sighed. He did not like it, not in the least, but everything pointed towards him having to ask Nadir for help. It would be annoying, humiliating even, but if he could enlist Nadir's help, the man could travel around and explore possible options for him, while Erik himself would be able to stay here, with Christine, to protect her, should need be, and, most important of all, to give her a chance to get to know him better.

True, there was no guarantee that Nadir would have any more success in finding a place where Erik would not be shunned if he decided to live there with Christine, that Nadir would not be able to find an employer willing to hire Erik despite his mask, but even if he failed, at least there would be no harm done. If, on the other hand, Erik himself went in search of a home, it would mean risking Christine's safety and losing her trust.

"There is no way around it," Erik finally decided. "Nadir. I have to explain the situation to him and ask him for his help."

Xxxx

As soon as it was at least halfway dark outside, Erik went on his way. Fortunately, the Persian did not live far away, and Erik knew all the back alleys and short cuts that would allow him to reach Nadir's home without running into too many people. The wide-brimmed hat also helped to disguise his mask and in the evening twilight it was relatively safe for him to walk the streets of the city.

Erik walked briskly and soon arrived at the Persian's home. When he knocked, the manservant Darius answered the door. "Monsieur..." he stammered.

"I need to talk to your master," Erik hissed at him. "Is he in?"

"Y..Ye..Yess...," the frightened servant stammered. "In the parlor, please..."

Erik shoved the man aside. He knew the way to Nadir's parlor.

"Erik! I had not expected you! What brings you here?" the Persian greeted him, grinning widely. "Would you care for a game of chess? Are you bored? Don't you have an opera house to haunt?"

Erik cringed. Maybe coming here had not been such a good idea after all. "I need your help," he informed the exuberant elder man.

"My help? Erik, Erik, you know that I do not want any part in your schemes!" Nadir chastised him. "You will never make me lend you a hand with your machinations that one day or another will cause you to be arrested. Unlike you, I am an honorable man."

Erik's hands formed fists. He had known it. It was pointless. He did not need that kind of a lecture, not now. Not ever. What he did need was Nadir willing to travel to find a place where he and Christine could start a new life. But how could he explain that to the Persian? How could he even be certain that the man would be willing to help him?

"This is about Christine," he finally mumbled. The moment he had pronounced that name, he wished he had found another way to start explaining his situation.

"Christine?" Nadir asked. "Your student? The new diva? What about her? How do you need my help in that regard? Do you want me to push another piece of scenery on Carlotta so that that protégée of yours can sing a few more performances? Maybe I should make sure Carlotta will get injured and thus will be out for quite a while?"

"NO!" Erik screamed. "It's nothing like that. On the contrary." He was beyond caring now. It was obvious that Nadir was not going to help him. Apparently that little Persian was so convinced that Erik was a lost cause that nothing he could say or do would make him think otherwise.

"If you did not constantly interrupt me and actually listened, you would know now that I need a job and a house and if possible a new face, so that Christine and I can get married!" Erik yelled.

The Persian laughed so hard that he almost choked. "Marry?" he asked. "You want to marry Christine Daaé? Does she know about your intentions? What makes you think she will agree? Last time I checked she thought you were an Angel! That poor child could not be farther from the truth. You and an angel!"

He paused. "I am not saying you could not be one, Erik," he added, suddenly sounding very serious. "You do have it in you to be a good man, nobody knows that better than I do, if only you made an effort and tried to fully realize your potential. Allah knows that I would not have saved your life back then if I did not feel that way, but all my efforts to make you see the wrong of your ways have been futile."

Erik looked down. He could not face the daroga. "I am not joking," he whispered. "I need to find a place where Christine and I can start a new life. Where a freak of nature like myself might be able to earn a living for himself and his wife, where we could live in a normal house."

Nadir glanced at him. "Christine?" he asked. "Erik, while I do appreciate your intention to at least try and live a normal life, I do have to ask you, what is this about Christine? I can see that you are completely smitten with the girl, but have you considered the fact that, apart from your face, which might be a problem, as you know, you are also almost old enough to be her father, and that your current lifestyle is not exactly within the laws?" He put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I am not saying this to hurt your feelings, Erik," he told his younger friend. "But I must remind you of these facts, I do not want you to get your hopes up too much."

"I know all that," Erik blurted out. "But believe it or not, Christine already knows that I am a man, and a hideously deformed one, though Antoinette assures me that Christine has not really seen my face yet. But she does know why I am wearing that mask," he continued. "And she has had a taste of my temper as well. And she knows that I am the Phantom. Yet she has not stopped our lessons yet, and she looks at me... and she has hinted... and when I left the red rose for her yesterday..."

He smiled at the memory of watching her from behind the mirror, when she had picked up his red rose, the token of his love, and had held it to her nose, deeply inhaling the flower's perfume, and then she had lightly put it to her lips, as if she wanted to kiss it. There had been something in her eyes, so much tenderness and hope and … had it been desire?

"Mademoiselle Daaé knows...?" Nadir was speechless. "And you think...?"

"I hope," Erik admitted. "And Antoinette also thinks that Christine... that I have reason to hope. Of course it is too soon to ask Christine, but Antoinette says she will only give her consent if I can offer Christine a normal life."

"Allah may bless that girl!" Nadir exclaimed excitedly. "If what you are telling me is true, it seems that that young singer has succeeded in what I had given up hope of ever achieving, namely to make you change your ways for the better! So, what is it that you need my help with?"

Erik then explained the situation to Nadir. "You see, it is more or less impossible for us to stay in Paris," he said. "I am not so sure about the rest of France. People in Lyon or Marseilles might have heard about the Phantom, or authorities in Paris might learn about a masked man living in any other French town. Considering my … activities … here, it might be better to go abroad, where I am not a wanted man. Would you mind checking out towns in neighboring countries for me? Finding out what my chances would be of finding employment there, of being accepted despite this," - he pointed to his masked face. "And, most importantly, what would Christine's chances be at working at a local theater?"

Nadir smiled. "I cannot promise you anything, Erik," he said. "But I will certainly try. It may take a while, though," he cautioned his friend. "The first city I go to may not be suitable for your purposes, and of course I will have to spend some time in each city I check out in order to properly evaluate it. But I will do my best."

He thought about it for a few minutes. "I think I could leave next weekend. Would that work for you?" Erik nodded. "Send any messages to Antoinette," he asked the Persian. "She will pass your letters on to me."