AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for reviewing. That's the way I love you! (snicker, snuicker)
Beregond's Girl: Yes, it's making me write both fluff and angst too. I never did that before. Yes, it would be odd if the Phantom would be interested in me. I tend top believe he's absolutely straight. No, don't force me to listen to rap music, I'm continuing! Have mercy! (Erik: Yes, I'm straight. Duh. And modern technology is fun. For example, I play Ron in the HP4 video game, and I've got a curse-enforcer with which I can even blast a blast-ended skrewt to pieces. Go me!)
PhantomKiss: I'm glad I got a review then. (Erik: Why, come and pat my chest, and we'll discuss propositions…)
Bea: Those OCs just keep turning up, I can't keep myself from doing it. Yes, there are certain patterns in Erik's behaviour easily recognizable… (Erik: Don't call me predictable, kid.)
Pertie: You're going to get all your answers, though not just now. But in the two chapters after this, mainly, wait and see… (Erik: Hmm, physical attraction…)
ChristinelovesPhantom: Rabid E/C shipper, eh? (Erik: Sure I need Christine. Want! Now!)
jtbwriter: Funny, originally Valencienne was not meant to have much of a backbone, but since I like women to possess some defiance… (Erik: Me too, thank you very much.)
Busanda: Gosh, this is going to be one long reply. Yes, I'm certainly under his influence. (Erik: Though I wouldn't call him reincarnation. He's small and skinny, for Hell's sake!) Thanks a lot for your compliments. As for male pulchritude… some I picked for my sister's sake, some just because they fitted the image in my head. The reason to put Rufus Sewell on the list was his unusual eye colour – at first I had him down for Adhemar, who had no name until then, but then I shifted hi to Serge and Adhemar got his name… I do love my little jokes… Yes, I've seen Attila (Erik: Me too, he made me watch it. No idea what's so funny about that guy. Apart from the fact that he doesn't look like a Hun and has a funny accent.), but those are not influences I got there. The bit about the turquoise eyes is from there, though – my best mate and I were looking at my screen shots, and he suddenly said, "Hey, he's got turquoise eyes!" Loincloth? We shall see… (Erik: Snuggle? Give me your address.)
Arien: Well, he does tend to change his mood very suddenly, or at least my Erik here does. And especially when he's nervous, slips might happen. (Erik: Nervous? Who are you calling nervous, milksop?)
The Musician of the Night: Good to see you back. The name you're looking for is Aminta. (Erik: Nicknames are nice, aren't they?)
Faye: Catching up fast… (Erik: Should I be afraid?)
MlleOG: You'll have to wait for two more chapters, I already wrote the passage in question. (Erik: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…)

-.-.-

III. I'm here with you

Madame Giry had never trusted Aeternus. There was something about him that just did not make him trustworthy. And it was not only because the first time they had met had been far from pleasant. That man had something about him that made one's gaze want to pass over him without comment, without noticing him, even when one was concentrating on him. That man was so absolutely sneaky.

And Erik did not like him. Of course it would not be a very intelligent thing to simply share Erik's opinion, since he could be pretty far from a reasonable man at times, but this time she found he had a point. After all, Aeternus was a Lost One.

To be exact, so was Erik – or so it would seem, but Madame Giry was considerate enough to avoid discussions of this topic in his presence. But Erik also was the little boy she had watched grow up, her old friend and playmate. And that made a vast difference. Even though little Erik was a grown man now, and a cruel and vicious one, to be honest – despite his habit of occasionally slipping in for a cuddle –, even though this little Erik was dominant, moody and foul-tempered often enough, Madame Giry admitted to herself that she still harboured a soft spot for him.

Whereas Aeternus… When she had first made his acquaintance several months ago, he had not exactly behaved to incur her favour, and he had done nothing at all to remedy this. On the contrary, he was currently making it worse by inviting himself for tea into the small flat she had at the Opera House, and that rather late in the evening. At least he had sent those two servants of his, Lászlo and Sándor, away, or else there would not be much left of the teacake by now. The pair of them were pretending to be stagehands at the moment, so they appeared at the cantina often enough, and especially young Sándor seemed to possess a healthy appetite.

And he tended to grin and wink at her daughter in a way she entirely did not approve of. One of these days, that lad might get his ears seriously boxed if he did not take care.

"So," she said, using not precisely a stern tone as she sat down opposite him, but one that showed that she had little patience at the moment. "What can I do for you, Monsieur Aeternus?" Of course this was not his real name; nobody in his right mind was called Aeternus, not even in Prussia.

Not that Aeternus necessarily was in his right mind, but all the same.

Leaning back in the armchair he was occupying, Aeternus managed to convey the impression that he felt perfectly at home. "Let's be plain and simple, just as you want it. Once again, I've come for your friend Erik."

Madame Giry considered the second half of his first sentence for a moment, then said, "In case you're reading my mind, stop it right now. It's rude."

"It's more subtle than smalltalk, though," Aeternus replied lightly, tugging at his left cuff and seeming very busy with it, but Madame Giry did not doubt that his full attention did not waver from her for one second.

"Not that you've ever bothered with etiquette," she stated tartly. "I only thought you ought to know that it's incredibly rude. You see, there's a word for people who do such things."

"There's more than one, to be precise." Oh, for Heaven's sake, how could one be bothered with a silly cuff for so long, especially if the cuff in question was on a plain grey jacket that had seen better days? It was absolutely ridiculous! "The one you'd probably use is Lost One, though as the Phantom's friend you'll also know Fateless, I assume. Myself, I would prefer Guardian or Fireborn, or Elder if you like, yet to ask you to consider me a Blessed One would probably be pure arrogance in my current situation. You know, we do have our pride."

At first the ballet instructor was totally lost for words – the man was too mad to be real! – but then she found them again rather quickly. "You have your pride, certainly. And your friend Créon did, no doubt of it, and that one companion of yours I was unlucky enough to meet, that one who was even ruder than you, Abdallah or whatever his name was, some ridiculous made-up thing –"

"Adhemar," Aeternus supplied, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Yes, Adhemar certainly did not possess any manners to speak of. But to call Créon my friend is a bit too much, perhaps. He was a temporary ally; yes, consider him that."

"Whatever you call him now." To Madame Giry, it did not matter in the slightest. "Whenever you turn up, you're here to bother Erik in some way, to put it nicely."

"Ah, Claire, I don't think you really understand."

"That's still Madame Giry to you, thank you."

He shrugged. "As you wish. And no, I'm not here to bother your Erik. I'm here because he needs me."

Madame Giry eyed her visitor doubtfully. Very probably Aeternus knew something about those recurring nightmares, but could he really help? And would Erik want his help at all? He would certainly refuse to render himself vulnerable to Aeternus, obsessed with showing strength as he was, and this time Madame Giry found herself whole-heartedly agreeing.

"Actually," Aeternus continued, "I brought him something that might keep him occupied for a while, and not only that, but also rather happy." Bending down, he rummaged for a moment in the rough leather bag he had thrown seemingly carelessly at his feet. "Here. He's bound to like it."

Suspiciously, Madame Giry eyed what Aeternus had placed on the table between them, amid teacups and plates. It looked like a very large bundle of notes…

"It's Richard Wagner's newest works," Aeternus supplied. "The first two parts of a tetralogy not yet completed. We saw both of them in Bavaria – I admitted my companions and me to the king's box – and were rather impressed. Of course, Wagner himself was not too pleased with such an early presentation, but King Ludwig insisted, and he had to agree, since the king comes up for all his extravagant needs, after all. Well, however. I used a couple of my tricks to have both of the scores copied out completely for our secretive friend's bedtime reading."

Oh. Now this was something Erik would enjoy. He could read a score like he could read a book, after all, and Madame Giry knew that he did so regularly and had several well memorized. But a new Wagner, or even two… Only too well she recalled how much he had liked Wagner's Flying Dutchman many years ago when they had staged it at the Opéra Populaire, and last spring he had made his first official stage appearance in the very same opera, in the role of the hunter Erik. To get his hands on two new Wagner scores would please him immensely. "What are they about?" she inquired, curious herself. "And do they contain any major tenor parts?"

"Let's say he butchered up some of the old German tales of gods and heroes." Aeternus smiled. "It's not very logical, at times overly melodramatic and even defies the rules of grammar in some places, but it has the most marvellous music. And yes, there are some tenor parts. Not that many in The Rhinegold, actually, but Siegmund in The Valkyrie may just suit our masked friend fine. Unless he'll go for Wotan. A baritone part, but the main part in both operas really. I'm not sure if he can sing baritone, though."

"You'll have to ask him after he's seen the parts." Madame Giry shrugged. "He knows his own range best." She knew that the Phantom could master higher baritone parts without problems, yet she did not quite know where the limit to his vocal range lay. The Dutchman, for example, had been too low for him, or so he had said. Well, that one was a part specifically written for low baritone, so it was not very surprising. He certainly had a wide range, but there was a limit to every singer's voice, and if he pushed himself too hard, he would only ruin it. "Say, why haven't you given him those scores earlier?"

"I haven't really had a chance of getting him on his own," Aeternus replied simply.

What an unlikely answer. He must have had another reason to withhold his little present until now. In this past fortnight, there must have been opportunities enough to get the Phantom on his own, especially since her daughter, Christine and Raoul now lived upstairs once more. No, Aeternus was planning something. He was plotting once more. And he was trying to play to his advantage once again, in some game none but he knew the rules for.

"I don't need to read your mind to know what you're thinking." Again he wore that mysterious smile, and Madame Giry could not tell if it reached his eyes or not. "But he needs me, if he wants it or not, and now more than ever. The outbreak of war has stirred in him what would not yet have woken. It's coming back to him, worse than it would have been otherwise. Some part of his spirit has always remembered, and that one part is dragging all that was forgotten back into the light because he can feel the war calling him. He may hide still, and he may refuse to take part, but not for long. The time will come when he will put down the bow and lasso and step out into the sun to take up the sword."

Unbelieving, Madame Giry shook her head. No, this was not her Erik as she knew him. This could never be him. "He will always shy away from the light. And he doesn't care about politics."

"He was born a warrior, millennia ago. He was created for war."

"And he won't like that talk," Madame Giry retorted sharply. "Knowing him as I do, he might keep himself in the darkest corner of the cellars now just to spite you."

Laughing dismissively, Aeternus waved it away. "It would be against his nature."

Why such confidence? Suddenly Madame Giry felt a strong urge to pick up her slender cane and poke the man with it. Sharply. As far as far-fetched fairytales were concerned, Aeternus was no better than Créon. This was the very last thing her Erik needed now, stories about some crazy mythology when nightmares about such things were already haunting him!

Leaning back, Aeternus sipped his tea quietly, like any ordinary visitor in any ordinary living room, looking no different than others, except for the dagger he wore at his belt perhaps. He had worn it when they had met the first time already, Madame Giry recalled, only that he had been swathed in a black cloak back then. Now he was dressed in a plain grey suit, with even a grey cravat; only the collar of his shirt, visible above it, was white. In this attire, he would not stand out in a crowd – which was what he wanted, probably.

Couldn't he simply use one of his mind tricks, the one Erik used as well from time to time? Couldn't he simply make himself invisible?

An odd man, that Aeternus. A very odd man indeed.

"This is the reason I'm here." Madame Giry almost gave a start as he suddenly spoke again. "He needs one who has gone through this same trial too once, one like me, to guide him. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him, and he's in good hands with me. You all are, to be precise." Once again he smiled as he put the cup back down in its saucer, and once again his eyes appeared strangely blank, though his expression seemed warm. "I'm here with you to have an eye on you all."

"Your intentions did not seem so noble when you came here the last time," Madame Giry remarked coolly.

Aeternus shrugged, and his features did not shift at the slightest. "Times change, and so do the purposes. We're all pawns in the great game Fate plays with us, as it's said, since the truth is long forgotten now. Wind and waves carry us wherever they want, and we don't know our destination until we're swept ashore."

It was hard for Madame Giry not to roll her eyes at such a reply. "You do realize that this does not answer my question, don't you?"

"What are questions? What are answers?" Aeternus laughed to himself softly. "You did not truly ask, and I did not truly reply. If you knew, would that change anything? For you, or for me? What do we really gain from knowledge? What do we really learn from pain?" There was a gentle hiss of metal sliding over metal, and Madame Giry winced slightly as he drew his dagger and held it up to the light. Lord, what did he intend to do with it? Should she go for her cane, just a few steps out of reach? Her palms moistened with tiny pearls of sweat, and something contracted painfully inside her.

"Why does steel frighten us once put into shape?" Was there irony in his voice? Oh, she wanted to snatch him by the cravat and box his ears until he could see little bright dots dancing around his head! "Is it not the man who strikes the wound in the end, not the weapon itself? But what's the use of wondering, for wounded you are in the end. To you, it makes no difference." Very tenderly, he brushed his thumb along the blade, then held up his finger to the light, watching one single drop of scarlet forming. "No difference at all."

Odd did not even come close! "And what is your point, precisely?"

Regarding her sideways as he dropped the dagger onto the table, right beside his plate, he lightly cocked one of his thin eyebrows. Well, maybe thin was not the right word, it suddenly occurred to her, as they were not thin in shape, but rather… thinly grown, in a way. Funny, she had not noticed it before. "Why, the relativity of everything," he said lightly, for once answering a question directly. "And at the same time, the purpose concealed in everything. Waking and dreaming, life and death, light and shadow… They form a pattern, even though we cannot see it. It is only visible from… beyond." And then suddenly his blank features grew weary. "But I cannot see them any longer, however hard I try. I'm a long way away from home."

Madame Giry sighed. Another world-weary Lost One, just like her own Erik. Getting up, she fetched a bit of gauze from a drawer. "Hold out your hand," she told him, picking up her little scissors from the top of the box of drawers where she had left it when she had abandoned her needlework to let Aeternus in.

"What for?" At least he was not reading her mind now, or else he would not look so confused. Aeternus confused, now that was a sight to remember!

"Now look here," she said, snatching up his left hand herself – she almost expected him to resist, but he didn't –, and carefully wrapped a strip of gauze around his bleeding thumb, then cut off what remained of the fabric and secured her little bandage with another strip. "I don't hold with self-mutilation of any kind, and that includes your harmless version here. Melodrama is no excuse. I mean, you're four hundred years old, or at least you claim you are, and that's a few hundred years too many to still wave a big knife to impress people, you silly man! So. And now you let it heal and don't mess around with it."

Only when Aeternus laughed softly she realized that she had just scolded him like a child, but she did not truly regret it; a man like him could do with some scolding, too. Her Erik needed a little scolding at times, so why not Aeternus? It served him right for his annoying smugness! Holding her head high, she threw him a cool look that conveyed that who laughed at this was very infantile indeed. She was good at those looks; after all, she had all of the ballet to practise on.

"Oh, Claire… you're very caring…"

"What did I just tell you about what you are supposed to call me?" she snapped, annoyed at being unable to detect any sarcasm in his comment. "Say… what do you know about opera, anyway?"

"So we'll have a little chat, shall we?" Aeternus smiled once again. "Maybe I know more than you expect me to…"