A/N: As always my first words are for my reviewers, my dear reviewers! Thank you all so much, as always I love to hear how you feel about this phic! You're still my little inspirations! (",)

Back to the story. We are back with Raoul's POV just where we left him in Chapter 2, and he is joined by Nadir (I'm using Susan Kay's name for The Persian as you may have guessed) whose POV is at the end.

By the way, as I mentioned previously I enjoy fusing the books, play and movie together. So, within this phic, Madame Giry will have a more prominent role in Erik's life (as depicted in the play & movie, as opposed to her minor role in Leroux's novel). it just makes things that little bit more interesting as it means there are more characters to write for.

Anywho this is a necessary chapter to show how the ones left behind start to react to Christine and Erik having left.

So, now that all that's cleared up, on with the show... Enjoy, my dears, and don't forget to review. (",)

Chapter 6

Only Ghosts Vanish, Not Men

I stayed in that room for a long time, thinking… But as dawn approached I knew that I could not remain. The Opera House would soon be coming to life and it would not do for me to be found there.

I was determined to find Christine but I had to push my overwhelming urge to rescue and protect aside for a time. I would return that night, it was the best I could do.

That day was the longest of my life. Each second seemed to tear through me. If ever there was hell on Earth surely it was that day! The only thing that kept me sane, that kept me going, was the vision of my beloved, Christine. It was her smile that pulled me through…Her angelic voice. Everything was for her.

When I returned to the Opera I was loathe to realise that really I had only one lead. I knew that Erik had taken her. So, I would have to go to his house beyond the lake, just as Christine had described to me. Even my desperate mind could not discount the fact that it was unlikely that they would still be there, but it was all I had so far. And perhaps that reclusive creature would not have had anywhere to go so soon…perhaps.

The only way I knew how to get to his house was through the mirror in Christine's dressing room. Twisted swine! My blood boiled at the thought of how he may have exploited that warped little invention; watching my betrothed in her most private moments! But this was no time for mindless rage, I had to find Christine…Then I would show that despicable wretch!

As quickly as possible I made my way to Christine's dressing room. Though no one would dare to question my presence there, it was of the utmost importance that I not be seen as, during that endless day, I had come to a very important decision.

I was not going to involve the police in Christine's disappearance.

Yes, it sounded mad but there were numerous logical reasons for it.

Firstly, I was deathly afraid that if I involved the police Erik would go to ground and then I would never find them. Much as I wished to ignore it I could not discount the evidence of Erik's cunning and intelligence. He was a dangerous monster in many ways! I thought it would keep him off guard, even relaxed, if there were no police in pursuit, and he would slip up somehow.

Then, there was the general incompetence of the Paris police force. They did not know Christine as I did, they would not know how to approach a singular case such as this. They would not care enough. They would not know how to handle Erik. Did I?

And finally, there was the scandal that such a report would involve. It would tarnish mine and Christine's reputations irrevocably. I did not wish to expose my lovely fiancée to such a scandal. She is such a delicate thing that I fear she would not hold up well under the weight of the vicious gossips of society.

Besides, it would not do well to add anything more unfavourable to society's view of her considering we are to be married. She was already a chorus girl in their eyes and thus below them. But they did not yet know her as I do. They would learn to see past that, to see the delicate beauty she was, I would see to it.

I would find her myself, and I would use all of my resources to do so.

I was all she had left. I almost felt proud, but that would be wrong of me.

Unnoticeable as I tried to be, I could not help but startle at the slightest sound. The shadows seemed to conceal more than I dared to find. I could almost believe them in league with the Opera Ghost, so foreboding did they seem.

Just as I reached the door of the dressing room, I thought I saw a flash of gold disappear around the corner but I forced myself to dismiss it. It was nothing, just silly tricks of the mind. Certainly not an accomplice of Erik's. Certainly not…Surely the Ghost had no friends, fiend that he was!

Closing the door silently, I lit the lamps and headed straight for that cursed mirror. I did not stop to survey the room again; it would cause too much pain. Though I did notice it still smelt of roses. It always had…She always had…Had they been his roses?

I tugged and pushed at that infernal mirror for God knows how long, but it was to no avail. It did not budge. It merely threw my exasperated reflection back at me in gleeful scorn.

Christine had never revealed the secret of this particular trick to me and I was damn well defeated by it.

Perhaps only the sight of Erik's inhuman features caused it to obey and move aside.

What power did he possess that no other mortal had? At what cost had he obtained it?

I was beginning to truly despair when I heard a noise behind me. The door creaked open and closed almost imperceptibly. Someone had entered the room.

I spun to face the intruder, half expecting to come face to face with Erik himself.

Instead I found myself in the presence of an almost equally strange fellow.

I knew him only from whispers within the Opera as the Persian.

A dark skinned fellow adorned in strange garb, he was surrounded by an aura of mystery and quiet authority. It was no wonder he was of such interest to the pretty little things within the ballet corps; in the absence of the Ghost, of course.

"Ah, so it seems my fears were correct. Erik was supposed to have met me by his lake last night. He did not come. He has taken your lovely young singer, no?"

His accent was obvious but his words were clear.

This Persian had such tired, kind eyes that I found it hard to distrust him.

However, I did not miss the shrewd intelligence lurking within that steady gaze.

His words sparked hope and dread within me.

"You know of Erik?" He knew the monster's name, he had to! But was he friend or foe? Would he be willing to assist me and could I really rely on him to do so?

So many questions spun in my head that I felt a little dizzy, but I was loathe to show any weakness.

With a sad smile he replied, "I know of Erik what he allows me to know. And perhaps some things that he does not…And I know of you, my boy, at least a little."

If he was feeling any sense of urgency he hid it well, and that infuriated me. I was just barely maintaining my temper. I hated that this man could be so calm, when I could not. I was a gentleman, not some deranged madman. I was not Erik.

"Monsieur, please, if you know anything that could help me find her, please tell me so! That thing has taken her against her will! She is alone and terrified! I must find her!" The next words almost caught in my throat. I was not accustomed to asking strangers for help, but I would swallow my pride for Christine. "I beg of you."

Something in my plea must have softened him for he nodded sadly in acceptance.

"My name is Nadir." He began politely, extending his hand in a customary greeting, "I will help you. For now. But be warned not everything is as it seems, young man. Not in Erik's world…not in Opera." He smiled wryly, but I was in no mood for jesting. He seemed to sense this.

I did not comment on his words to me. I was unsure if I wished to know yet what this man, Nadir, thought of Erik. Instead I quickly explained the journey Christine had made through the mirror with Erik not so long ago.

He seemed to smile fondly as I mentioned it, yet with that ever-present underlying sadness. What caused such a look? How exactly did he know Erik?

"Ah, yes the mirror!" He whispered as though recalling an old friend, "Come, my boy, I will take you to Erik's house. Perhaps we can resolve this peacefully."

"Peacefully!" I had not meant to speak out, but the very notion of letting that fiend away with his crime was beyond me.

Nadir looked at me sternly. There was something strange and calculating in that look, but he turned away so quickly to the mirror that I had little time to worry about it.

With infuriating ease, Nadir located a switch at the mirror's edge that caused it to slide aside serenely.

Turning to me, he seemed to falter for a moment, and again I was struck by doubt.

But the moment passed and he spoke to me evenly, "Stay close to me. This could very well be dangerous. Erik does not like visitors."

Again his tone of sorrow and fondness when speaking of Erik caused me to wonder, but he had moved into the passageway beyond before I thought to question him.

The journey was indeed a strange one. Erik had set traps to guard his underground fortress but, according to Nadir, it seemed that Erik had forgotten to reset many of them. This was a stroke of luck for us. But did it mean that Erik was gone?

When we reached the house on the lake Nadir drifted off inside to look around for himself. I think he still hoped to find Erik and work everything out.

But it was too quiet. I began to fear the worst. I crossed the threshold almost tentatively.

Never in my life will I forget that place. For the most part it was just like any other house (discounting, of course, the fact that it was underground) and yet it had its secrets. There was a room containing a mighty pipe organ, and there was a coffin. A coffin! What a morbid being! I shuddered just to think of my Christine being trapped down there with him.

And yet, hard as it was to admit it was not without its beauty. Richly decorated, it seemed to reflect a deep sense of creativity.

It served as both a home and a shrine. A shrine to music, to beauty…and to Christine.

Music sheets were scattered everywhere as well as drawings of her. Her face gazed at me from every direction. I could almost hear the echoes of their voices raised together in song, in perfect harmony…Together in song…as we could never be.

I began to grow even angrier. I was becoming wild in my panic and despair. She was not here! Neither of them were! I was too late, they had already moved on. Yet, there were no clues as to where they had gone.

There was something else niggling at the back of my mind. Something else that didn't feel quite right. But I pushed it down, ignored it. It would only hurt me more. I was falling apart; I needed something to hold on to, not something to finally shatter me.

Turning around I found myself facing a large covered object. Impulsively I pulled away the covering, and found myself face to face with a mirror. But there was something wrong with its surface; it distorted the image of all it reflected.

I was barely recognisable as I gazed at the twisted reflection. I did not understand the purpose of such a thing. Why have a mirror that showed such ugliness to those who looked upon it?

Was it my imagination or was there something within the mirror? Erik had had a fondness for hiding in mirrors, had he not? Was he there right now, laughing at my anguish? Was I going mad?

Enraged, I reached for a nearby candelabrum and swung it at the mirror's smooth surface. It shattered marvellously. The sound and sight of its destruction was intensely pleasurable. But it was a cold pleasure for there was no masked man lurking within.

It was just a mirror.

Hearing pounding footsteps, I turned to find Nadir racing into the room.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

I had no answer for that but the obvious one. My true answer would only make me look mad, and I had to be strong.

Nadir was regarding me strangely again and I bristled under his stare. Nevertheless, I allowed him to lead me to a chair and sit me down. He proceeded to question me about the events leading up to Christine's disappearance as though it were a police questioning in which I was a suspect. I tried to tell him that it was a waste of time but he persisted with his questions with a strange intensity.

When he had finished, a pensive silence settled over the two of us.

I do not know how I knew but I sensed that I was losing his support.

That was perfectly alright by me, I had intended to pursue this matter alone.

But I could not let him leave without gaining from him any useful knowledge he had.

This was easier said than done. It seemed I had lost whatever small amount of trust had been forming between us. Yet, for the life of me, I did not know how or why.

He would not reveal to me how he knew Erik. His answers were cryptic and evasive. It was beyond frustrating.

Finally, I asked the most important question. The one I desperately needed an answer to.

"Monsieur, Nadir, I can see that you do not wish to reveal much about that thing known as Erik. But please, if you know of any possible places that he may have gone, tell me! If not for my sake than for Christine's!"

This plea seemed to give him pause, but my hopes were dashed by his steady response. "I am sorry, Vicompte, but I am of no use to you. Erik's secrets are his own, and I could not say where he has gone. He has always been quite adept at vanishing, I'm afraid."

"Only ghosts vanish, not men." I snapped.

Looking at me with those kind yet piercing eyes, his response shocked me,

"And how can you be so sure that he is either? Our rules, the rules of man, do not governor him. That is one thing that I can tell you about Erik. And another…"

Eagerly I waited for this bit of insight into the enigma that was Erik.

"His mask conceals a lot more than his poor face. Terrible as he can be, he is so much more than you think of him."

I was defeated. There were no clues to be found here, and my ally seemed to have become my foe. Erik? More than I thought of him? Indeed!

"Come," Nadir said, "I will return you to the surface and then we must part ways. And may your God be with you, my young friend."

As we traipsed back to the surface, I hardened my heart to my despair.

I would not give up! I could not! This was only the first setback.

Now I would turn to my money. Money can buy so much more then fancy clothes.

It can buy information. Everyone has their price.

I would rescue Christine! I would be the hero!

Nadir's POV

It was regrettable indeed to leave that poor boy in such despair, but there was too much at stake to allow pity to cloud my judgement. I had to uncover the truth of this matter without him.

Ah, but he had seemed so sincere. His concern for Mademoiselle Daae was certainly genuine. But the rage he felt towards Erik and his devotion to Christine was clouding his judgement dreadfully.

But there was no denying that he played the part of the valiant hero incredibly well.

Perhaps too well.

Oh, Erik, my old friend, Allah knows what you have done now?

I had hoped to find him at home. Such a darkly wondrous home! But I hoped in vain.

Yet, as I searched I began to grow suspicious. There were no signs of struggle. Not within Erik's house nor the girl's dressing room.

This was not to say that Erik had not drugged her or lured her with his seraphic voice. But a good Daroga does not overlook any signs, nor discredit any doubts without proof. And as I had told the young Vicompte, nothing was ever as it seemed with Erik.

Was it possible that the girl had gone willingly? Erik had told me about her, of course, but he was as blinded by love as the boy. A dangerous thing, indeed.

Yet, as Raoul recounted to me the events that occurred before he discovered poor Christine missing, my doubts intensified.

The girl had requested to be left alone in her room yet surely she knew the danger of such a request. It would have left her vulnerable to Erik. It had.

Many things, such as dresses etc., from what I assumed to be her room had been carefully taken. No clothes were scattered. Time and care had been taken. Erik's room showed the same signs. Had Erik acted out of madness and kidnapped the girl, this would not have been the case.

I knew Erik as well as I could. He was too dramatic to be so discreet once he was angered or hurt.

So what had really occurred between this woman-child soprano and her all too human Angel?

I had to discover the truth. I would not rest until I did so. I was Erik's conscience still, you see, so I was duty-bound. Erik would never be free of me, as I would never be free of him. I had to find him. And I would.

To my shame, I had not confessed the whole truth to Raoul. I did not know exactly where Erik was, but I had some ideas.

And I knew someone else who would possibly be of assistance to me.

It seemed it was time to pay a visit to the worthy Madame Giry.

That formidable woman who had also found her way into Erik's life.

I suppose you could say that we were Erik's only real friends, and as such we would allow him a chance to explain himself.

He would give us the truth and we would respond accordingly.

We owed one another that much.

Deep in my heart, I prayed that we would find Erik before the Vicompte did.

Allah knows what disaster would occur if we did not!

Deep in my heart, I prayed even harder that Christine was with Erik of her own free will. I was so tired of being disappointed by the actions of that tortured genius.

He had so much more to offer than darkness alone.

And I truly could not bear the thought of having to break his heart.

For despite all his claims he was still, at the core, only a man…

And, for his sake and Christine's, I would find him.

Not the Ghost…

Not the Angel…

Just the man…

For men don't vanish, they merely hide…

So, there ya have it...what ya thinking?

x Restless And Tempted x