Erik held tightly to Arabella's hand as they watched the police officer walk quietly up to Nadir's front door and knock briskly. He had requested they remain in the carriage – although it seemed more for their own personal comfort rather than any major suspicions that might have lingered in his mind. Arabella gnawed anxiously on her lower lip, not quite able to overcome the wash of hope and joy Erik's so very recently spoken words had invoked in her. But if Nadir denied knowing an Erik Sauveterre… whatever he'd said wouldn't matter. They'd be separated, put in different prison cells, and held for… well… she wasn't entirely sure what the specific charge would be.
"Nadir set me free from the very jaws of death itself." Erik told her in a nervous but gentle voice. "He let me escape Mazandaran. He did not turn any information about me over to the French police when I was acting as The Phantom of the Opera. I do not believe he will turn me in now."
"No…" Arabella agreed. "But he doesn't know the name Sauveterre… does he?"
Erik shook his head – but not in denial. It was a simple gesture that said he couldn't recall.
The door opened after another minute or so. The officer was standing in their line of view, but they had little doubt Darius had been the one to answer the door. After a brief moment of talk, the officer stepped inside but not far enough for the door to be closed behind them. He might be a little lax in his suspicions, but clearly wanted to reach the carriage easily if Arabella or Erik tried to run. At least he wasn't a complete fool.
Nadir must have come to the door, for conversation continued for another minute or two. Once or twice they could clearly hear the officer laughing.
"I think it's all right." Arabella said hopefully. She liked the sound of that laugh. It was the sound of a man who is not being put more on edge by what he is hearing.
"Yes…" Erik agreed, although he didn't look entirely convinced.
Only another minute passed before the officer stepped out of the house and towards the carriage. Nadir and Darius stood in the still open doorway, watching curiously.
"All right." The officer stated, opening the carriage door. "Your friend has vouched for you. I truly hope the rest of your night goes better than it has so far."
Arabella sighed almost silently in relief, feeling Erik's body sag with the same much more silent emotion. He climbed down and then offered a hand to help her.
"I can carry you." He offered.
"I walked to the carriage, I can walk to the flat." She told him quietly, perhaps a little stubbornly.
She glanced briefly at the officer who'd brought them to this place of safety.
"Thank you, Monsieur…" she murmured.
"Your servant, Madame." He replied, reaching up to lightly touch the brim of his uniform hat.
"Good night, officer." Erik mumbled, not meeting the man's eyes before taking Arabella's arm and bringing her swiftly up the front steps of Nadir's flat. As they climb, he looks up to the pair of Persian men waiting for them. "Nadir… I suppose we have missed supper?"
Nadir frowned slightly at him but glanced meaningfully over his shoulder.
"I put plates aside for both of you." He replied with a little roll of his eyes. "I understand there was an accident of some kind. Madame Bella… you must be starving."
"I am, Daroga." Arabella admitted slowly, although she and Erik had eaten an early supper in order to walk through the park after sunset without having to starve themselves. "I'm also exhausted... I wasn't a moment ago, but…"
"It is the tension releasing." Erik whispered. "Now that you are safe you…" But he let his lecture trail off. The last thing Arabella needed was a lecture!
"If you are tired, then you must come in and rest." Nadir offered.
They could hear the police carriage as it drove away, and all four of them – including Darius – relaxed slowly as the sounds of wheels and horse-hooves faded.
"We were nearly arrested, Nadir! What did the officer say to you?" Erik finally demanded as the Daroga allowed them through the front door of his house and into the very small foyer. "What did you say?"
"He asked if I could confirm whether or not I had a Monsieur and Madame Erik Sauveterre staying with me." Nadir sighed as Darius closed the door behind them, and they all herded into the parlor. "I did not realize you had a surname to go by… but I only know one Erik… so I asked what in the Hell you had done this time. Oh – pardon my horrible language, Madame Bella."
She had started chuckling at his admission of speaking instantly ill of Erik, and shook her head while waving off his necessity to apologize.
"The faith you have in me is astounding." Erik muttered to Nadir as he helped Arabella to a couch near a low-burning fireplace. "Darius, could you please put more logs on? Arabella nearly died tonight, falling through ice!"
Nadir's devoted servant moved to obey at once; and the news that Arabella had nearly frozen to death hurried into a nearby room only to return with a large heavy blanket that looked as though he might have torn it off of his own bed. Although that hadn't taken long, Erik had already bent down and removed the oversized boots on her feet and taken off the fine fur coat that had been given by the rich lady in the first carriage.
"You fell through ice?" Nadir asked her while Erik took the blanket and motioned for Arabella to lie down. Clearly he didn't care much about whether this was polite behavior or not… And Arabella was fading so quickly due to her sudden exhaustion that she simply followed his direction and pulled a little decorative pillow under her head while putting her feet up. "Darius; when you're done with that, please fetch Erik some tea?"
"Tea with brandy, if you would be so kind, Darius, please." Erik put in briefly. "It's a long story, Nadir. But Arabella fell through the ice in the Bois de Vincennes…"
"You left out the chase." Arabella murmured, already half asleep so that her voice was on the verge of slurring. Her caramel eyes lifted slowly to Nadir's curious expression. "My husband was chasing me through the park."
"Your husband?"
"Oh, look at him-" Erik couldn't help but let out a strangely shrill laugh that was close to a very disturbing giggle. Clearly he was just as emotionally and mentally exhausted as Arabella was physically worn. "-Already getting the entirely wrong idea! She means me, Daroga! We were playing a game of cat and mouse, and she showed some very tactical thinking in running out onto the lake. Unfortunately, she miscalculated and…"
Arabella hummed with amusement, one of her arms snaking out from beneath the comfortable and warm blanket in order to reach for Erik's hand. He placed it into her enfolding fingers without any hesitation whatsoever. He even lifted her smaller hand to his lips, brushing his lips in a feather-light caress over the skin of her knuckles without giving a damn that Nadir and Darius were both staring at them.
"I'm starting to think it might have been worth the risk." Arabella admitted as Darius shook free of his astonishment over Erik's good humor and tenderness, and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Risks normally are." Erik said. "Now hush, ma belle… Get some rest. We'll go home… later…"
There were long minutes of silence as he smoothed back her hair, not taking his eyes off of her even when Darius returned with a cup of hot coffee. Erik merely held out a hand so the cup could be placed into it, and then held it carefully on one knee. It was clear he was anxious about moving or disturbing her while she wasn't quite all the way asleep.
But eventually he shifted so his back was mostly to her, and he began to sip at his drink. Darius had long since returned to the kitchen, and Nadir had lowered himself into a nearby chair.
"Husband, Erik?" he asked slowly the first time his friend glanced in his direction. "Have you lost your mind? I understand if it was a ruse for those officers but – You know how this girl feels for you, Erik! Toying with such words isn't fair to-"
Erik rose so abruptly that he almost spilled his coffee and burned his hand. He glanced briefly down to be certain he had not disturbed Arabella. But then his golden eyes glowered at Nadir and he crossed the space separating them. Nadir stood up slowly; not foolish enough to be in a vulnerable position around Erik when his eyes blazed like that.
"Toying?" he hissed in a very low voice. "How dare you accuse me of toying with anyone's affections? Kindness and affection is such a rare thing in my life, Nadir! I would absolutely never –ever - toy with such a precious thing as Arabella's love!"
He was interrupted by a hard sneeze and coughing fit. It took well over a minute to force his body to calm down. When he was done, he walked away and stared into the fireplace.
"Do you have a handkerchief, Nadir?"
Only a few moments passed before one was held out at the side of his vision. He reached out to accept it then waved Nadir further back so that he could remove his mask, wipe it out, and then clean his own face. Once he was masked again, he didn't bother trying to return the filthy cloth to its owner, but stuck it into one of the pockets of his 'borrowed' trousers. He very slowly turned to look back at Nadir, his anger at the accusation diminished.
"She… Christine…"
He grimaced. He had hoped somehow that his fresh and complete acceptance of Arabella would somehow lessen the pain of hearing or speaking that name… thinking it. But no… it still hurt. He supposed that perhaps it would be a very long time before that pain became completely endurable.
"…is not coming back. That is clear. But … Bella… she… loves me. I don't know why… but she does… and that's enough for me!"
"You are clearly fond of her." Nadir offered although Erik could instantly tell this was a gentle prodding for more information… probably for some kind of confirmation.
"Yes…"
"Fond enough for that term to be thrown around…"
"It isn't a term." Erik replied icily. "Arabella ismywife. You… you may congratulate me."
Nadir stood there for a long moment; too stunned to process what Erik had said. He almost looked shaken, if Erik was honest with his assessment. He actually found humor crawling its' way back into his system. But he was not prepared when Nadir drove another knife of suspicion into his chest.
"When did this happen?" he demanded. "This girl deserves more than the shallow pool of your affections, Erik. I hope it is more than-"
"-I would not say something I did not mean!" Erik snapped, the humor simply dissipating like smoke as rage filled him again. "I married her in a gypsy ceremony. It is not… official in the eyes of the church or our government… but I would never take advantage of her!"
"So you intend to marry her legally?" Nadir challenged.
"Erik..."
The two men turned sharply, startled to see that Arabella had forced her eyes open a crack.
"Miri kom…" she began again, her voice slurred with sleep as she tried to lift her head from the pillow.
Erik glanced almost hatefully at Nadir.
"We woke her, you idiot!" he hissed before kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. He reached out to stroke her hair, pressing her head down gently. "Hush, ma belle. You're safe now. Get some rest."
"You too?"
"Do not worry about me. I will rest very soon." He promised.
"Too bad this couch is… too small for two…" Arabella mumbled, obviously put into a state of immediate peace and acceptance by his reassurances, and smiled at Erik with a barely-there flirtatious glint that made him smile gently.
"Sleep, mira kom." He whispered. "In the morning we will go home, and the bed will give … you … plenty of room to sleep."
When he knew she had surrendered to even his illness-thickened voice and returned to sleep, he turned to see that Nadir's eyebrows had lifted nearly into his badly receding hairline.
"You admit that your marriage is not binding…" he said quietly. "Do you love her?"
"Who would not love Arabella?" Erik demanded. "You love her already, and you only have had a short acquaintance with her. You can even look at Darius for proof that she is easy to love. He has only caught mere glimpses of her. She has never spoken a word to him… but he shows concern for her welfare like … like she is a flame and we are all just moths."
"That does not answer my very direct question." Nadir accused. "Are you in love with her?"
"Oh, damn you, Nadir!" Erik scoffed. "What I feel for her is … so very different… from what I felt before… for … for…"
"For Christine." Nadir supplied gently.
"Yes, for her." Erik sighed. "But I do not want to live without her - without her, Nadir. Is that enough for you? Must I say those words aloud to you before I've ever gained the courage to say them to her?"
There was another long moment of quiet during which Erik finished off his coffee.
"It will have to do for now." Nadir admitted. "I truly am happy for you, my friend, if you are happy. I just… I worry for her. There's something about her…"
"Yes, I know." Erik nodded curtly. "I … I am not exactly happy yet. But I am content… and… and I think I will be happy… if I just… can have a little time… I have not … allowed myself this kind of hope in a very long time. Even with Christine… all the hope I felt then… it was not the same. She never knew me as Bella does… You know less about me than she does!"
"Will you ever tell me that story?" Nadir demanded with a slowly growing smile that softened his tone and his eyes. "You told me that you have a past with her… but nothing else. Just that you had a past, you were separated, and now she has come back into your life at just the right time to save your sorry life."
"Perhaps someday…" Erik shrugged. "My… my friend… I am grateful for your hospitality. But I am… so damned tired now… May I please…?"
"Of course; let me get you a pillow and some blankets. I am afraid we have no spare beds, and it would be absolutely indecent to make Arabella give up the sofa. Unfortunately I cannot give up my bed for … health reasons… And Darius' bed is much too small or a man of your size."
"I suppose this Persian rug will have to do for one night." Erik sighed; completely understanding that Nadir meant his old back – which had spent five years in a Mazandaran prison – would not be able to withstand the hardness of the floor. "Nadir… Thank you for saving us tonight."
Nadir looked nonplussed by the sincerity in his old friends' voice.
"Did you ever doubt for a moment that I would stand by you?" he asked. "It is not as though you have comitted some fresh crime… have you?"
"Not as of late, no." Erik managed a weary chuckle.
When Nadir brought him pillows and blankets, Erik made certain to put one of the expensive feather pillows under Arabella's head before curling up on the ungodly uncomfortable floor. Nadir was older than he was by a few years, but not by too much. Erik knew he would be aching from jaw to toes in the morning after years of a marginally more comfortable bed… that terrible coffin that since Arabella's return had been banished from the house. Now he'd grown used to his mothers' old feather mattress…
He was prepared for a night of utter hell. But Arabella was warm, safe, comfortable… and – he thought – happy. He was not going to be bitter about a single night on a hard floor. And he was tired enough where being uncomfortable in the moment was not going to keep him awake. He'll suffer in the morning. He'll groan and complain and be furious that Nadir could not be a better host… Erik was very honest with himself about this foreknowledge. But the time being he just sank into sweet oblivion.
When he woke the next morning, in just as much pain as he'd suspected he would be in, he was surprised that Arabella had moved from the couch. He found her lying almost face-to-mask with him, her eyes halfway open as her head shifted blearily on the pillow he'd given her. She offered a weak, half-awake smile, and reached out to touch his masked cheek… which he allowed.
"What are you doing down here?" he demanded gently. "Was the couch not comfortable enough?"
"The couch was fine…" she replied in a whisper, stopping to yawn. "I had other reasons for wanting to be down here with you."
This answer was so cryptic that Erik doubted very much she meant it in any kind of flirtatious way. He took in a deep breath and pushed himself into a painful sitting position. He groaned, trying to loosen his neck, shoulders, and back muscles. While falling asleep he'd entirely forgotten how much carrying he'd done of Arabella the night before. After adding the pain of sleeping on a hard floor … he was all but in agony.
"Oh God… I am far too old for this… but … I suppose it's better than sleeping out in a field somewhere…"
He stretched, yawned, and gave a little smirk as Arabella also sat up and did something rather similar.
"I'm sorry. I should at least say 'good morning', and pretend I have manners, before I begin complaining…"
"You sound a little better." Arabella observed as she stood with much more ease than he ever could have. He watched as she lifted their blankets and began to deftly fold them into a nice neat pile to be left on the couch. "Except for your obvious aches and pains, I mean. But your cold is already getting better… Perhaps I should give you that knightly reward you earned last night by giving you a massage when we get back home. Or… or I could just … wait until after my appointment…"
She slowed down her folding of the final blanket to glance uncertainly at him.
"I could cancel the appointment… I could let that be your prize. I know you don't really want to attend the masquerade."
"I did not want to." He admitted, slightly correcting her. "But at the same time… I realize it is one of the few times I ever get to be in public … No one notices me in a room full of masks. Please don't try and cancel your appointment. And… being your escort would be…"
He waved a vague hand, unable to think of a suitable word that would not come out sounding absolutely ridiculous. He continued stretching as he stood, his ribs cracking in a way that felt like an enormous relief rather than painful.
"Besides… I told you that it was you who won our little game last night. I am the one that owes you the prize." He kept his voice carefully low, noticing how dim the sunlight coming through the windows was. It was very odd, being in a house with windows again. It made him slightly nervous, although he doubted anyone would be peering at them during such an ungodly hour. "What is it you wish, ma belle? Whatever it is, the impossible will be achieved for you immediately. A miracle, however, will take a bit more time."
This strangely flippant but cheery promise made Arabella burst into a fit of giggles. She quickly covered her mouth to keep the muffled, glancing towards Nadir's bedroom door. Both had been keeping their voices low to respectfully let the older gentleman get his sleep. Erik found that he was grinning. He liked her laughter a great deal. When she lowered her hands, she was still smiling.
"I think I will hold my wish hostage." She decided. "I wouldn't even know what to wish for otherwise…"
"Take your time." Erik encouraged. "Heavens' knows I wouldn't know what to ask for, either."
That was a bald faced lie… but it would be humiliating to let Arabella know the types of things his mind thought up.
"Now…" He held a hand out to her. "We should leave before we wake our host. I will sneak away a purse so that we can take a cab back to the Opera. I don't want to walk all the way there in daylight."
"Erik!" Arabella scolded. "You cannot steal from your friend. Money is not a pocket watch!"
"I did not say I would steal." He answered reasonably. "I intend to pay it back once I have my own money on me again. Besides … I would say the money needed for cab fare is worth far less than a pocket watch."
"It's still stealing, Erik." She insisted, although he could see that she was highly amused by his reasonable argument.
"Oh, very well." He heaved a great sigh of false exasperation. "I suppose there are plenty of complete strangers starting to take to the streets… Stay here, Bella, and I will return when I've gotten what we need."
"Erik, it's broad daylight." She reminded him. "If anyone notices their purse is missing, they are going to remember you. Why … why can't we go out and earn our money for a few minutes? It won't take very much…"
"Earn it?" Erik demanded warily. "How?"
"Well… you may have forgotten this, Erik, but you can sing. I can dance. We'd just be a pair of vagabonds… and your skill while I dance just might help you take a purse or two when no one would notice. Surely they wouldn't suspect the two performers earning a low but honest living…"
Erik gaped at her. He couldn't help himself. She was… genius He hadn't even thought about outright begging In the street… or performing. He hated to perform on his own because everyone always stared at his mask. He drew too much attention to himself. But he'd been given a hat to go with his outfit. He could duck his head low while he sang, and stay in a deep shadow… No one would take notice of him if Arabella was dancing. She was much too entrancing…
"You would… do that with me?" he asked breathlessly. It was not so much the idea that Arabella would perform with him that he found so touching. It was posing as beggar vagabonds. To him, appearing as a beggar would be one of the most degrading ideas he could ever come up with.
"Erik, I always have loved performing with you." Arabella rolled her eyes at him affectionately. It made him want to reach out and brush his hand down her cheek, but… he didn't quite dare. In spite of the past twelve or so hours, he simply didn't dare. "Although… our … the way we feed off of each other seems to have intensified since … since the days of 'beauty and the beast'."
Erik's entire body clenched, remembering her dance the morning before.
"Then … I will borrow from Nadir." He insisted. "We certainly don't want to make outright spectacles of ourselves and be too memorable."
He saw the look of reproach on Arabella's face and held up his hands.
"Do not worry, ma belle. I will leave him a note. And I will pay him back."
"I should certainly hope so, my friend."
The both turned sharply. Erik gave a low curse; reaching for a Punjab lasso that was no longer in his ill-fitting jacket even as he recognized Nadir's voice. Neither had heard him come through the bedroom door, and he stood in its' small opening with a little smirk of amusement on his face. In spite of the smile, he looked almost ancient in his dressing robe and slippers. He had not even combed what he had left for hair yet – which was visibly untidy even under the cap meant to help keep his head warm at night.
"Daroga!" Erik snapped. "You're lucky to be at such a distance to me, you old fool! Don't you know better than to sneak up on the Angel of Doom?"
"I am quite sure Azrael remained behind us in Persia." Nadir said without worry as he stepped out into the parlor. "Now… you said something about borrowing money from me? How much do you need?"