The conservatory is blessedly empty. The children off to their daily activities. One might imagine nothing untoward happened and today is just like any other day in the household. He wonders where Christine and Gustave got to. Relieved, however, neither of them is here now. Too much has happened and for the first time in many years, he only wishes to be alone in the silence of his thoughts.

This room is always such a comfort to him – so very different from that place where he spent so many years without light or life to nurture him. When looking for a house close to the bay, yet convenient for travel to Phantasma, this was the only home he considered once he entered this room.

The rest of the house was fine – more than enough for their needs – twelve bedrooms as Nadir never failed to tease him about. How quickly they were taken up, though. Children and nannies and housekeepers. The Bay Ridge house was always a place of life and love. Home.

The conservatory, however, is his sanctuary, where he finds comfort in the plants and windows and the humble upright piano where he plots out new melodies before moving over to the Eyrie to flesh out the work on the grand. And, except for occasional meals, a quiet private room the family understands is his.

Opening the fallboard, he taps out some notes, singing softly to himself:

Forget what you think

Ignore what you hear

Look with your heart

It always sees clear

At the present moment his heart is deeply unhappy at what it sees. Tears falling on the keys bring him up short. "How could he think…believe I killed her?" Removing his mask, he wipes his eyes with the grey silk square he removes from his pocket. Gregory's attack came as such a shock, he was surprised he was able to speak, much less deal with the situation presented to him with any sort of calm. Never was he more grateful for the presence of Alexander and Grace. Why had he not seen the deterioration of their friendship? But then, Alexander and Grace seemed equally confused…and, like him, did not recognize the deeper nature of Gangle's bond with Meg. Had it been there all along? From the beginning?

Friends were never a part of his life. Once he left Rouen, he left Father Mansart and Marie as well, they being his only friends as a child, such as they were kind to him. Nadir would always be an anomaly – guard, mentor, savior? Friend was too simplistic a word to describe the Persian sheriff who enticed him from his travels in Russia into virtual slavery. Their time together during those days altered him in ways he could never imagine.

Despite his time with the thuggies, those activities were nothing compared to what he was called upon to do in Persia at the whim of the Shah and his sister. The palace would be his university of killing – not for food or money, but for entertainment. Death was always present in those days. Death and the ability to create great beauty. Some of his happiest moments were designing and building the Shah's palace. Nadir and the boy, Reza, were what kept him human. And, as he brought him to that hell, he also enabled his escape. Nadir is a part of his soul, like Christine and the children.

Friendship was something he came to know on that long, uncomfortable voyage from France to America. Not necessarily with Adele and Meg. They were not really friends – the relationship with the two women was more complex and not built from companionship or love or even liking one another – theirs were bonds of necessity and obligation. Perhaps if he was more experienced with people in general, things might have worked out differently with them. As things stood, though, the element of mistrust was always present.

Christine was the only one who truly knew all of him. Over their years today he lay bare every part of himself. A small smile curves his lips. Their first kiss was something he never expected to experience in his life. The blending of their bodies that first time and every time since he considers miracles, salve to the wounds inflicted by others. Music was their initial bond, but as time went on, there was more – an inner connection as Nadir spoke of with his wife. Something Erik never believed he would ever know. As such, it is she he loves – deeply and without reservation. Then and now. His trust in her is absolute.

The Girys were necessities – and he was indebted to Adele. However tenuous their relationship at the Garnier was, the escape from Paris saved his life and so he would always protect her life to the extent he was able. This would include Meg. Did Gregory not know that? How could he not know that?

Ultimately, while keeping themselves at arm's length, he and Adele managed to come to an agreeable comradeship – her marriage to Nadir had him see in her a different, softer side. One she seldom revealed freely. In truth, her past was of no real interest to him. His own was not a topic of discussion. What she knew about him based on her own experiences was sufficient – there was no need to offer anything more. Besides, those were times he preferred to not dwell upon.

For her part, she never pried. Theirs has been a relationship based on convenience and a mutual wariness. Betraying his home to Raoul might have cost her her life in another place and time. As things stood back then, once the mob took over, they found they needed one another. He never really anticipated loyalty from her, but they found they were more useful to one another alive once the dust settled.

For her to take her child's life baffles him. But then, learning she bartered Meg all those years was a shock as well. Even in his own darkness, harming one's child is an inexcusable offense. He understood only too well the pain of being an unloved child. Was the girl that much of a hindrance to her mother? There was a good father, Louis. No fly-by-night liaison with a patron who abandoned her. Pneumonia took him, or so he recalls.

A child born of love. So was he born of love. Perhaps it was the death of the father that hardened Adele. Much like what happened with Madeleine. Meg, however, was a beauty. Too much so for a mother who was gifted at dance, but plain of face? He shakes his head, clearing the meanderings of his mind. Still, the knowledge of Meg suffering at the hands of her mother is what he suspects allowed him to be so forgiving of her over the years – even if he never quite gave consciousness to that thought. He could no more hurt Meg than he could harm one of his own children, however, obstreperous she might be and often was.

Darius would be smiling at this idea. Perhaps chuckling just a bit over his introspection and acquisition of self-knowledge. Sighing deeply at the thought of the gentle man, Nadir's son in heart, if not in fact. Another person he must talk to – thankfully Yasmine would relay the fact of Meg's death. The how of her death was something else instead. Could the gentle young man have imagined this end for his former wife?

His heart aches for the woman who lay helpless in that sterile room trusting the one person with her who would treat her with care, but instead ended her life. Did she know what was happening, he wonders.

Perhaps Christine will be able to learn more from Adele, not that it would make much difference. Still, maybe she had a reason no one was aware of. When he helped Reza to die, it tore him to pieces. It was an act of love, the boy was dying and in pain and yet…oh, how it hurt…to this day.

What was Adele thinking? Feeling?

For him – ultimately, he is relieved she is gone. Meg and guilt were two words he would always combine. And yet, his own words come back to haunt him: the dead never truly go away – her death was raising issues he never thought he would have to examine. Gregory's response for one. Their friendship was irreparably harmed. As with Adele, he would now hold him at arm's length. The knowledge Gregory left him long before stings, why did he not see?

Voices rouse him. After wiping his mask clean before putting it back on, he hastily refolds the grey silk, returning it to his pocket and stands to greet his wife and eldest son. Alive and beautiful. His heart fills with gratitude. "Thank you," he says quietly – not entirely sure who he is thanking.