A/N: Whew, I'm back from my school camp, covered in bruises and completely scarred for life. Hahaha just kidding. Just as a heads up, I'm going to be on the busy side for the next few weeks, moving into a new dorm and all that stuff, so my posting schedule will be a little irregular. Thank you all for understanding! This week's chapter is a tad short and boring, but please bear with me!
Savannah White: It took Amelie long enough to realize, didn't it? Haha.
Nikki1991: I almost cried while writing that chapter -so embarrassing-
Masked Man 2: I took a lot of liberties with the story; I couldn't remember if Erik and Reza had that sort of relationship... but I enjoyed writing that chapter, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading it! Boy, it's going to take some time for the two of them to figure out their relationship though.
Guest: Thank you! Hehe I know, I had to include a little monkey somewhere.
Lydia the tygeropean: Ah yes, that quote. So true. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter!
phantoms girl: Thank you! And it's ok! I was pretty busy the past week too, so I barely had time to read reviews!
ADemigodPhangirl: Buquet will be reappearing soon, I expect. Hahaha.
Thank you AngelofPhanFics831, roselisa, thepoetoaster13, bella cullen, & TwilightNewMoonEclipseMidnight for the favs/follows. It is much appreciated!
Chapter 38: Nadir Khan's Visit
Paris, 1896
This time, when the daroga rang the bell on his way down, Erik and Amélie were prepared for him, a tray of tea on the table where they were seated at. The daroga entered, this time in normal dress clothes, though with his usual strange hat perched atop his head. He made a courteous bow to Amélie.
"Good day, mademoiselle," he said charmingly, and she flushed, reminded of her rudeness the day before.
"Good day, monsieur…daroga?", she attempted to say awkwardly, wincing at the strange sound the foreign word made. The man chuckled.
"Please, call me Nadir. My name is Nadir Khan. I am no longer the daroga of Persia, though Erik still insists on calling me that." He smiled jovially, and Amélie found that she had to smile back.
Erik muttered darkly, "That is because you will always be the annoying police chief to me", but Nadir and Amélie ignored him.
"Then you must call me Amélie, monsieur—Nadir." She rose, and curtseyed. "We may have gotten off to a rough start yesterday, and I apologize for that. I am Amélie-Rose."
Nadir's face brightened considerably. "Ah, Amélie-Rose! You must be that girl that Erik used to—"
"Daroga." Erik said threateningly. "Please sit down and have some tea."
His tone brooked no arguments, and Nadir nodded amicably, sitting down and accepting the cup that Amélie handed to him. Amélie herself was curious. What had Nadir been about to say? She knew that she was not supposed to be privy to the knowledge that Erik had known her even before he had went to Persia, but she was curious.
Nadir raised the cup to his lips, and inhaled the aroma of the tea. "Ah, Russian tea. How I have missed that taste! I could not find it here in Paris."
Amélie was surprised. "Do you drink this tea too, Nadir? I buy it from a small shop in town for Erik."
Nadir nodded. "Erik brought some with him to Persia, and we drank it every time we played chess. I miss those chess games, indeed. You will have to let me know which shop you buy it from, so that I may purchase more."
"I always won the chess games, so I cannot imagine what you may have missed about them," Erik said under his breath, and Amélie slapped his forearm.
"Erik!" She hissed. "Be polite."
Erik simply made a disgruntled noise, and drank his tea.
If Erik had been stiff and cold while talking to Nadir the day before, and a wreck of tears when relating Reza's story to her, now he was… rude and grumpy, oddly mischievous in his snide comments, even.
Nadir watched the two of them in amusement, a strange glint in his eyes.
"Well, daroga?" Erik demanded. "Will you not let me know the purpose of your reappearance in my life again? Surely you cannot be looking to reinstate yourself as my conscience, as you did back in Persia? That position has been left sadly vacant since you smuggled me out of Persia, not that I am delighted to see it being filled again."
Nadir chuckled. "That incorrigible sardonic wit has never left you, Erik. Very well—where shall I start, indeed? After you left for France, I feared for my own life. The Shah believed my story, and the body that I used to pass off as yours was beyond recognition, so he could not question that either. But the Sultana was another question—you know her better than I do, Erik. I could see the little clockworks turning within her head and I knew that we would be discovered one day. I had nothing left to hold me back to Persia, Erik… Reza… was gone, and you had left. I retired from my post as daroga, much to the Shah's displeasure; I'm sure he was greatly agonized to have lost a servant who was slave to his every whim. I took the modest pension that I was provided with, and I fled for France."
"How did you get to Paris, to this opera house?", Erik demanded. "Where do you even live now, daroga?"
"Why, are you worried about my being, Erik? Perhaps concerned over where this old man is staying? I could be living in a rat-infested sewer for all you knew."
"No, if only that were true, then I would be rid of you by disease." Erik scowled at Nadir. "I do not worry about you, and you are not even old, besides."
Nadir raised an eyebrow at him, and said off hand to Amélie, "he simply cannot bring himself to admit he's worried, but I know he is."
Amélie giggled as Erik loudly denied that fact. It seemed that the relationship between the daroga and Erik went deeper than she had originally thought; if Nadir was able to sit at the table and comfortably bait Erik, and live to talk about it, then Erik must care for him a lot indeed. Erik huffed at her, and waved a hand toward the daroga, gesturing for him to continue with his recount.
"You used to talk about the Palais Garnier, back when we were in Persia, Erik." He caught Erik's eye and his glaring stare and hastily amended, "You used to talk about the opera houses in Paris, enthralling me with your talk about the grand buildings and the performances held within.", but Amélie was not fooled. She knew that Erik was still holding onto his secret of having known her before he had left to travel the world.
"When I arrived in France, I decided to go to Paris, to see the opera houses for myself. I own a season pass to the Palais Garnier now, though it is a cheap one; I dare not spend beyond my means. I made some investments with my pension money, but I have to live frugally. I own a small apartment just off the Rue de Rivoli." Nadir shrugged.
"How did you know to find me here?" Erik frowned. "My house is protected by traps all around, and I cannot think of how you even found an opening to enter."
Nadir smiled. "Ah, you forget, Erik, I used to be the daroga. When I saw the reports in the newspaper, along with the interviews from employees speaking about the mysterious opera ghost and all his antics, I suspected something. And then I met this young lady," he gestured to Amélie, "a few days ago, and though she denied knowing you, I smelt a rat immediately."
Amélie gave an indignant sputter. "I thought you were a reporter nosing your way around, and I thought only to put you off Erik's trail."
"A commendable attempt, of course, but you must remember that I used to be the daroga, and I knew Erik for quite a number of years in Persia. I know all your traps, Erik—they have not changed much since the time you built the torture chambers for the Sultana. I know where you hide your secret levers and buttons, but I must admit that I spent rather many nights hiding in the darkness of the street, waiting for you to emerge from your lair, so that I could discover an opening to your house."
Erik laughed a dry laugh. "Very well done indeed, daroga. And now you have found my house—so what?"
But his voice had gone quite cold, and was no longer friendly. The daroga looked at him shrewdly.
"That depends, Erik. What do you intend to do from now on? Now, as you told me yesterday, and as Amélie here so vocally demonstrated to me, you did not kidnap the young soprano. As hard pressed as I am to believe that… I trust you. But what do you intend to do from here on? I will not allow you to harm any more innocent people, Erik. When I helped you escape Persia, I made you promise me not to have any more blood on your hands; do you not remember?"
Erik slammed a hand on the table. "Damn you, daroga. I did not invite you here for you to install yourself as my conscience, or for you to give me a self-righteous talk about my misdoings. I was merely curious about what you had been up to all these years, that was all. As for my plans… they are none of your concern."
"If you intend to harm innocent people, I will bring this matter up to the authorities, Erik." The daroga spoke calmly, but there was a hint of steel in his words, and Amélie was alarmed.
"There will be no bringing this matter up to the authorities, monsieur!", she cried out. "Erik does not intend to harm people at all. He made a promise to me not to have any more blood on his hands, and I trust him to keep his promise. Yes, Erik?"
Nadir watched Erik closely and was surprised to see Erik's gaze soften as he looked at Amélie and nodded solemnly. Amélie then turned to Nadir.
"And you! You claim to be Erik's friend; or at least, he views you as one, and still you cannot trust him enough to keep that promise to you?" She snapped defensively. "For shame, Nadir!"
"You are right, Amélie. I spoke too rashly." Nadir held up his hands in surrender. "I apologize, Erik. I should have known better; you always kept your promises. I will let this matter drop."
"Yes, well, that is all very good and such, but you have taken up enough of my time, daroga. I need to get back to work," Erik said irritably and abruptly. "I will put these away and be back to show you another way out. I believe you would appreciate that more than climbing through the sewers again."
Before Nadir could say another word, Erik had swept out of the room with the teapot and tray of cups.
Amélie took his departure as an opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. There was something about Nadir Khan, and it compelled her to speak to him somehow. "I know that he used to live here before he ever went to Persia, in case you were wondering."
Nadir looked at her in shock. "You know? Then why—why would Erik stop me from mentioning the Palais Garnier?"
Amélie shrugged. "He does not know that I know yet. I believe he intends to keep it a secret from me, but I found out somehow."
Nadir nodded. "Ah, that must have been his intention. He used to talk about you, back in Persia. We would sit on the verandah some nights, and when I asked him about his life before Persia, he was mostly secretive, but sometimes he talked about a little girl that he knew in Paris. He used to tell me about her rosy cheeks, and her burnished copper hair, and eyes the colour of the summer sky. That was how I recognized you, and asked you those questions at the door a few days ago."
Amélie could barely breathe. "He… he used to talk about me?"
Nadir snuck a sideways glance at her, noting her flushed cheeks and excitement. Inwardly, he laughed. Erik, you lucky bastard. "He did. On those nights that he felt the most homesick, he would tell me stories of how he met you, of the adventures you had in the opera house. You were the light of his life, one of the few joys allowed to him as a young man. He must have missed you greatly, for at the start, you were all he would talk about, his precious little rose. Yes, I believe that is what he referred to you as—his little Rose. He had left you behind quite a few years back, he said, and that if he ever made it back to the Palais Garnier, he was sure that you would have forgotten him. No, in fact, he rather hoped that you would not remember him, so you would not realize how far he had fallen from grace, how monstrous he had truly become."
"I have never, not once, thought that he was a monster." Amélie said softly.
"No, he is not," Nadir agreed. "Did he tell you about Reza? Ah, I can see from your reaction that he did indeed tell you about him. Did he also tell you that he murdered Reza?"
Amélie opened her mouth, but could only gape at how matter of fact Nadir sounded, even though his words were accusing. Briefly, she wondered if Nadir blamed Erik for what he had done, but no, he had sounded almost blasé. Nadir took in her stunned expression, and chuckled.
"It… has been many years, Amélie. Yes, I can now talk about Reza without feeling the pain I once felt, but he will always live on in my heart."
"Erik has never gotten over Reza, not in those many years since he left Persia," Amélie said. "I would like to think that I helped ease some of his pain when he told me the story, but I do not know."
"I do not blame him; I never did. I felt indebted to Erik for having made the difficult decision that I could not. I thanked Allah that Erik was there to do it for me, but I feel guilt and regret that he had to shoulder the burden of it. Reza was my son, and my responsibility," Nadir said pensively. "I stood at the door as Erik did it. I watched him cry, and I watched him kiss my son. I felt his pain. Erik made Reza so happy, even as he lay on the bed in pain. And because of that, I am forever indebted to Erik. You have no idea how happy I was when I read the papers about the mysterious opera ghost, to even have a glimmer of hope that Erik was still alive. I thought it was him, perhaps. My sixth sense told me so."
"But you must not have believed that Erik would do such a heinous act? Kidnapping Christine against her will? Erik would never do that." Amélie pressed on. Nadir looked at her squarely in the eye.
"Does Erik know how lucky he is to have you by his side?" When Amélie coughed awkwardly, he chuckled. "Oh, I can tell. You must care for him deeply. But no, Amélie. Part of me did not want to believe the articles in the newspapers; I would have liked to think that I know Erik to be better than that."
The shuffling of footsteps from the kitchen broke into their conversation, and they hurriedly kept quiet, as Erik re-entered the room, looking at the two of them suspiciously. The daroga stood.
"Well, Erik. I am happy to have seen you again. May we meet sometime again? A game of chess, perhaps? Just for old time's sakes?"
"No," said Erik stiffly. "It would be best if you did not come here again, daroga."
Amélie clucked her tongue at him, and he frowned at her. She jerked her chin toward the daroga, using her fingers to pull down the corners of her mouth to indicate that the daroga would be disappointed if Erik refused. Erik scowled.
"Perhaps…. perhaps next Wednesday, then." Erik said awkwardly. "You can enter through the passageway that I bring you out by; I will show you how to disable any traps that you could miss along the way."
Just before he left the room, he looked back at Amélie, who was preparing to leave to go back to the opera house for rehearsals. She caught his gaze, and smiled approvingly at him. Her smile was so bright that Erik was momentarily stunned.
But then he smiled back, and he could have sworn he saw her eyes widen, before her face lit up completely and she beamed even more widely at him.
A/N: It was a bit of a dry chapter... but more exciting chapters to come! As usual please read/review/fav/follow/let me know what you think! xx hazel