Disclaimer: See previous chapters. Isn't it obvious?

Chapter Forty-Three

Darius and the Persian froze, staring at each other in amazement. It's him! The Persian chuckled under his breath nervously, though he was relieved to know that Erik was indeed alive and that he had found him. "Salām aleikom, Erik," he whispered in Farsi from behind the door.

The door suddenly swung open, nearly hitting the two men behind it. There stood a clearly stunned Erik, eyes wide, mouth open. He blinked. "Daroga?" he whispered, quickly grabbing the doorknob and closing the door again, stepping out into the narrow alleyway. He stood there staring at the Persian for several seconds before it seemed that he actually believed his eyes. "Daroga! Peace be upon you as well, my friend!" Erik exclaimed at last, embracing the Persian tightly before pulling away, slightly embarrassed by his own behavior. He had clearly surprised his old friend. "What on earth are you doing here?"

The Persian chuckled. "My friend, I was about to ask you the same question! Obviously, many things have changed since I left on my extended holiday. Your Opera has burned beyond recognition, and here I find you in a church! With a woman, no less!"

Erik was overjoyed to see his friend, but realized that he had come back because he had heard of the Populaire's destruction. "I'm sorry, Daroga. I…I wish that you wouldn't have come back solely because of me. I'm afraid I've made more than a mess of things."

"Erik, you are my friend. And for many years, I have felt that you were my responsibility…well, my burden, in any case," he laughed. "I am just relieved to see that you are alive and obviously well. I was quite concerned."

Erik smirked. "I'm sure you were, Daroga. But you of all people should know that I can take care of myself."

"Oh, really?"

"Of course. I only let you help me all those years so that you could feel useful."

The older man snorted. "I see you've retained your sense of humor. But you haven't yet told me what you are doing here. What has been happening in your life, Erik? You…in a church? And with a woman who obviously has no desire to run screaming in fright from the sight of you?" he teased him.

"That woman," Erik smiled broadly, "is my fiancée."

It was the Persian's turn to gape in shock. Darius stared as well, remaining silent.

"Something wrong, gentlemen? Cat got your tongues?" Erik chuckled amusedly.

The daroga stammered. "N-no, Erik. No…not at all. I…well, I…I just never imagined…" He shook his head and then a thought occurred to him. "She is your willing fiancée?"

A spark of anger flared in Erik. "Of course she is willing, Daroga! Do not be so insulting! And she wishes for us to be married tomorrow night."

"I don't mean to be rude," the Persian questioned him, "but how did you meet this woman? The last I knew, you were quite in love with a certain soprano at the Opera. And I do believe that you would have gone to desperate measures to make her stay with you." He looked upon Erik curiously, awaiting a proper explanation.

Erik sighed, shaking his head. "Daroga, I am still quite in love with that soprano. My fiancée is Christine Daae."

The Persian flinched. He was clearly surprised and disturbed by the information. "Erik, my friend…are you certain that this is a…healthy relationship? You have deceived her for half of her life, as the "Angel of Music." Have things truly changed so much in but a month since the fire?" he asked incredulously.

Erik smiled slyly. "You have no idea."

"Clearly, I do not. Shall we go somewhere a bit more private and discuss these matters?"

"I have Mass to attend, Daroga. But if you will meet me outside here in one hour, I would like for you both to join me at home for lunch. Christine will be joining us, and it would give you a chance to speak to her directly." He paused, thinking. "Of course, she has no idea of your existence at this point, or of how much you have assisted me over the years. But I would be pleased if you would both to attend our wedding tomorrow night, if you are able. What do you say? Come and meet my fiancée?" Erik studied the men hopefully.

Darius and the Persian glanced at each other in amazement. At home? For lunch? The man acts as though this were the most natural thing in the world, the Persian thought. Darius shrugged, staring at his master. "Very well," the Persian sighed wearily. "We will meet you here in one hour." He shook his head in disbelief as they parted ways with Erik. He certainly seems different somehow, the Persian thought, but I hope that he is being truthful about his relationship with the soprano. If she does not truly love him as he seems to believe, then God help us all!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Erik and Christine joyfully informed Father Michel of their wedding plans for the following night. He replied that he would be more than happy to perform the ceremony. "Do you wish to have it here, in the church?" he asked them. The couple glanced at each other and seemed to have the same thought. "Yes," they responded simultaneously. Erik grinned. "Father, this is the place where both of us found our way back to each other. It seems like the perfect location."

"Very well. Will it be a traditional Catholic ceremony?" The old priest questioned.

"Father, is there anything about me that you find traditional?" Erik replied, raising one eyebrow in jest.

"No, I suppose not," he smiled. "Are you to have a meal for you and your guests afterward?"

Christine smiled sheepishly. "I suppose we haven't thought about this very thoroughly, Father. Those details haven't been worked out yet. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Leave all of it to me, Mademoiselle. I have a few ideas," Father Michel winked at her. "I will be ready to receive you here at six o'clock tomorrow evening. That should give you time enough to dress before the ceremony, yes?"

"Yes," Christine blushed, glancing at Erik briefly. "I shall need help, so I plan to bring a friend at that time."

"Of course."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"My darling, we are to have guests for lunch. I have a few things that we can eat…"

"Guests, Erik? Who?"

"An old friend of mine, and his servant."

Christine cast him a curious glance as they stepped out of the church's side door into the narrow alleyway. In the shadows, she caught sight of two dark figures standing motionless against the opposite wall. She yelped in fright, but Erik tightened his hold on her arm. "Mon amour, this is my friend, a former Daroga of Persia, and his servant, Darius."

The Persian stepped forward from the shadows and removed his bowler, reaching for her dainty hand. "Mademoiselle Daae, it is a pleasure to meet you at last." He eyed her seriously and she managed a small smile before a look of shock crossed her face. "You…you are the Persian!" she gasped. "I have seen you before…at the Opera!"

Erik stepped in front of her then, facing her. "You have seen him?"

"Yes! A few of us have, though it has been quite some time…we were always afraid of him. We never knew why he was there…forgive me, Monsieur, for speaking about you as if you aren't standing here…but he frightened us every time he came out of nowhere!"

Erik cast a weary glance at the Persian. "Mon ange, he was most likely there to see me. We have known each other for many years."

Darius then stepped forward and bowed to Christine, saying nothing, and she smiled at him, beginning to relax a bit. "It is lovely to meet you both. I hear that you will be joining us for lunch today…I hope that you will enlighten me on many things about my future husband." She grinned at Erik and took his arm. The Persian and his servant followed behind Erik and Christine as they made their way to the carriage and stepped inside after them.

Erik seated himself next to Christine and the two men sat across from them. The Persian was clearly uncomfortable, and he removed his bowler to rub his balding head. He placed the hat back on and smiled at Christine uneasily. Erik took note of it and spoke in an attempt to relieve the tense silence. "So, Daroga, how was your trip north? Was it restful?"

"Yes. Yes, it was. Thank you for asking. The weather was lovely."

"Was it?" Erik replied, feigning interest. "And did you see any interesting sights?"

Before the Persian could answer, Christine interrupted. "Surely, gentlemen, you are not merely participating in this chit-chat for my benefit? Because I do not like being treated as a child or a fragile flower. I am neither, so you might as well speak whatever is really on your minds." She narrowed her eyes at Erik, trying to look stern. It only served to make him laugh loudly.

The Persian was genuinely surprised to hear Erik's laughter…he was fairly certain that the only similar sound that he had ever heard emanating from Erik's lips was that of his music. He marveled at its joyous timbre. What on earth has happened to him? He could stand the suspense no longer, and since Christine had practically demanded that they speak honestly, he cleared his throat. "Erik, as your fiancée has requested, I would like to speak what is on my mind." Erik motioned gracefully with his hand and nodded slightly to him. The daroga continued. "I must know what has happened to change your situation so drastically…to change you so drastically, my friend."

Erik sighed. "Prepare yourself for a long story, Daroga."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The men spoke seriously about all that had happened in the past two months since the daroga had been away. As they seated themselves at the kitchen table in the guest house, Erik offered the men some tea.

"Do you have black tea or just that wretched stuff that passes for tea in France?" the Persian teased him.

"Black tea?" Christine questioned. "I don't believe I've ever had that. What is it like?"

"Oh, well…it's just a different taste, Mademoiselle. Usually I add a hint of cardamom to mine at home."

Erik spoke up. "Can't abide the stuff myself, but yes, I do happen to have a small amount. Darius, will you take the same?" he asked.

The servant nodded. He hadn't uttered a word since coming into contact with Erik that day. The Persian couldn't understand why. Perhaps Darius is too shocked by the changes in Erik…or could he still be fearful of him?

"Christine, I have some Darjeeling here if you'd like…unless you want a cup of what they're having," he smirked and made a face that only she could see, sticking out his tongue and feigning disgust. Christine burst into laughter so abruptly that she startled the other men. "Uh…yes, Erik, I'll just have…whatever you're having."

They all settled around the table then, sipping tea and eating the meats and cheeses that Erik had set out for them. Christine picked at her croissant as she listened to the men talking. "Erik, I am curious about something that you mentioned, and I assume that it is what is truly responsible for this change that I see in you," the Persian began cautiously, trying to avoid sounding argumentative or harsh. "You say that you had an encounter with God. How can this be?"

Erik looked slightly surprised. "Why, Daroga, you believe in God, do you not? A good Muslim like you, questioning me about the authenticity of such a statement is just scandalous!" Erik laughed in amusement until he realized that the daroga was not laughing along. He was staring at Erik with gravity. Erik continued carefully then, "I-I don't know quite how to answer that, I'm afraid…The Lord came to me in a vision and I heard his voice and I knew that He had forgiven me. I have trusted in His finished work on the cross and He has cleansed and made me pure in His sight."

The Persian shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you saying that you believe that this one whom Christians refer to as the Son of God came and forgave you, without you having to do anything to atone for all of the wrongs that you have committed?" He glanced nervously at Christine, as he was uncertain of how much she knew about Erik's history of violence.

Erik thought for a moment, looking at his friend rather strangely. "Well…yes, I suppose that is what I am saying. How on earth could I ever atone for the things that I have done, Daroga? He had to pay the price for me. I know that He has changed me because I can see some of those changes myself. What's wrong, Daroga? You act as if something is disturbing you."

"I am a Muslim, Erik. I do not believe that God became a man and atoned for our sins himself. Allah would never…could never…do such a thing. He is God, and he would sully himself if he became like one of us."

"But, doesn't your Muslim holy book mention Jesus Christ?"

"Well, in a way, yes. We believe that he was a great prophet, much like Muhammad. But Allah cannot have a son, Erik. He is not a mortal man."

Erik scratched his chin. "Perhaps I haven't properly understood the vast differences between Islam and Christianity before…Father Michel has many books at the church that would do better to explain everything to you regarding my beliefs. You see, Christ was born of a woman, but His Father was God. He was humanity and yet He was divinity. Father Michel told me that He humbled himself out of His great love for us, knowing that we could never repay the debt that we owed because of our sin. Didn't you know that Christmas is the celebration of God's incarnation here on this earth?"

"Yes, of course I knew, but…that doesn't mean that I believe it. And I certainly never thought that you did, either!"

"I didn't before…and this will be the first Christmas that I have celebrated since I can remember. But His Word resonates in my heart…almost like music…and I know that it is Truth, Daroga. Besides, I simply don't see how any person could ever expect to be good enough so as to earn his own salvation. That, my friend, is impossible. I know this…when I was in need, He came to me, and when I asked for forgiveness, I actually felt it. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders."

The Persian eyed him curiously. "Well…you certainly are different, Erik, I'll grant you that. I have never seen you so full of life before…neither have I seen you at peace before. Perhaps I shall borrow a few of those books you were referring to someday soon," he smiled gently.

"Try reading a Bible, Daroga. It really isn't so bad," he teased him.

"When you have read the Quran, I will consider it."

Erik raised a challenging eyebrow at him. "All those years in Persia, Daroga…how do you know that I haven't?"

"Because the man I knew then had no fear of God whatsoever. And he was indeed a hopeless and very dangerous man."

Erik bowed his head. "You can't possibly know how thankful I am for Christ's mercy, Daroga. I should be dead. But here I am, alive, being given a chance at a happy life. It is far more than I will ever deserve."

The Persian reached out and laid a hand on Erik's shoulder. "My friend, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to upset you. If you say that your God brought about this change in you, then I have to believe it. There is no other explanation for the man whom I see before me now."

Christine was crying silently, watching this discourse between the strange Persian and her soon-to-be husband. He is right, she thought. The Persian is right. Oh, God, she prayed silently, change me! If you can change the man that I have loved for so long, then surely You must have a purpose for me as well. I may not have much to offer, but what I have is Yours. I want my husband to be proud to call me his wife, and I want You to be proud to call me Your child. She wiped the tears from her face with one of her hands, and with the other she grasped one of Erik's. He looked up at her and smiled tenderly. She trembled inside, knowing that the next night, he would be hers completely. My husband, she marveled. And I will belong to him, as well. We will belong to each other, at last, joined in the sight of God.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: A big THANK YOU to my reviewers and readers. I know that some of you are saying "Yay! Nadir!" But I feel the need to point out that he isn't referred to that way in Leroux (which I finally finished reading, by the way)…or at least, he isn't in the book that I read! This is why, in my story, he is simply referred to as "the Persian" or "the daroga." (Would the name Nadir happen to be a Susan Kay creation? Anyone?) Still haven't begun reading Kay's novel, but I have it sitting right here next to me. I want to write and not allow her novel to influence this story too terribly much, because I'd rather take from the original and the movie as much as I can. On the note of "taking," a friend of mine recently had some of her fanfiction here plagiarized by another author. It truly upset me to see that. I hope that you, my readers, will alert me if you notice any of my work being plagiarized at any time. Though I refuse to take full credit for the ideas written here (because I know that many ideas have truly come to me through divine inspiration, if you will), the ideas remain mine. Stealing another author's thoughts and "rewriting them" in an attempt to make them "your own" is just a terrible betrayal of trust, in my opinion. Fanfiction authors should not plagiarize other fanfiction authors. Okay, I'm off my soapbox now! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and I wish you a very happy New Year! I'll try to post another chapter before January 1st!