Disclaimer: The original credit belongs to Leroux, as we all know. From there, Andrew Lloyd Webber re-interpreted our dear Phantom, and then, it was Susan Kay, with her masterful prose. All I can say is, I hope to be able to walk in their footsteps!

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Rescue

The light was hurting his slightly open eyes. He looked around, weakly. There was a soft glow coming from dozens of candles in the music room. Then he saw the Persian, sitting on a low stool across from him. He attempted to sit up on the divan where Nadir had laid him, and was able to do so, albeit quite slowly.

"Well, my friend, you have rejoined the world, I see!" said the Persian, grimly.

"How...did you find me?" inquired Erik, fighting a sudden dizziness.

"Ah, you forget that I know you too well! Your passageways and rooms have become more familiar to me with time. When I had heard nothing further from you for several days, I decided to come looking for you."

Horrible pain ripped through Erik's chest. How could she have left him so calmly, without protest? Attempting to stifle his emotions, he croaked, "Leave me, daroga, for the...love of...God..."

"I will not leave you, Erik," Nadir answered, quietly. "You have obviously been ill, and have probably not eaten since I saw you last. Come, let us remedy that situation at once."

Walking over to Erik, he grasped him by the shoulders, and tried to lift him. Erik furiously threw him off, and, tottering, sank back onto the divan.

"I do not need your pity!" he screamed, sobbing even in his fury.

The Persian sighed. "Come, man!" he said softly. "You must overcome this melancholy. You need to have some food in your body, as soon as possible. Then you will more easily be able to deal with the present circumstances. Come."

Nadir again grasped him by the shoulders. This time, Erik offered no resistance, but kept his head down, ashamed that another man had seen his tears. After all, he was not wearing his mask...Horrors! Where was the blasted mask?

As if sensing his thoughts, Nadir steadied him with one arm, and pulled something out of one of his pockets. It was Erik's mask, which he silently handed to him. Erik took it with trembling fingers, quickly putting it on.

"Daroga," he whispered, "you must have been appointed as my guardian angel. I would have surely died had you not found me."

Nadir chuckled. "Come, come! There is a saying that there is one who is closer than a brother, is there not?"

"Is that to be found in your sacred Koran?" asked Erik, weakly, as the Persian took him through a passageway that would take them to the Rue Scribe exit.

"No, indeed, Monsieur le fantome. It comes from the Book of Proverbs, straight out of your Old Testament."

Erik sighed, grateful for the Persian's presence, in spite of himself. "You know very well that I am not very familiar with that book, Nadir!"

"That is not a good thing, my friend," said the Persian, in a heavily serious tone of voice. "The Almighty is not to be lightly ignored. But I shall at present spare you any lectures on the matter."

They then lapsed into silence, slowly walking through the endless, twisted corridors that Erik's unique architectural genius had created, until at last they came to the Rue Scribe exit, and out onto a Parisian street. It was fortunately pitch black outside. Nadir hailed the first brougham that passed.

The Persian helped Erik into the vehicle, and, rapping loudly on the roof, shouted, "To the Rue des Anges!"

"Where are you taking me?" asked Erik curiously. "The 'Street of Angels'? Where is that? I have never heard of it!"

"It is where I live," answered Nadir, chuckling. "That is a common nickname for it. The real name is rather uninspiring, I assure you. Indeed, it is so much so, that it escapes my memory at present. I can properly feed you there, and we can then decide what to do."

Erik leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "Daroga," he whispered, so low that Nadir had to bend over him to hear his words, "I have lost her, daroga...my angel...and yet, I dare to hope...I love her, my friend...I would give my life for her..." As he said this, he suddenly drifted off into sleep.

"Rest, now, my friend," whispered in turn the daroga. "Allah may yet be merciful, in spite of all that you have done. Your angel may yet return."

Nadir settled back in his seat, deep in thought. At last, he smiled, his eyes suddenly moist. He had never known quite what to make of Erik. He had by turns felt fear, then admiration and grudging respect for him. At times, Erik's callous behavior had appalled him, Yet, this was the same man who had been so kind to little Reza, Nadir's dying son...And now, this strange man was madly in love, so much so that he would be quite willing to let himself waste away for that love.

Nadir slowly let out a long breath, his mind struggling with perplexing feelings. He did not exactly know when it had happened, but somehow, he had indeed acquired the closest thing to a brother.

Erik felt someone shaking him rather roughly.

"Erik! By Allah, but you are frightening me! Wake up, I say!"

Erik slowly opened his eyes, to find the Persian's disturbingly piercing ones looking at him with the greatest concern. He sat up suddenly, his heartbeat accelerating in the space of mere seconds. Shaking his head, he grasped Nadir's arms, and looked wildly up into his face.

"Where are we?" he demanded hoarsely.

Nadir answered with all the calmness he could muster. "We have stopped in front of my building. Come, let me assist you, my friend."

Erik tightened his grip on Nadir's arms. Nadir bore it patiently, knowing that this masked genius who had never ceased to intrigue him was on the verge of going into shock.

"Nadir...I must find her! I must, I tell you!" His voice broke, and he turned his face away from the Persian in sudden shame.

"All in good time, my friend," Nadir said soothingly, as if he were speaking to a child. "But now, we must endeavor to properly feed this gigantic frame of yours. Come."

He then helped Erik alight from the carriage, and enter the bulding.

Several hours later, Erik almost felt like a new man. Both Nadir and his manservant, Darius, had collaborated on a hearty meal for him. His mind was crystal clear now. He would have run out of the apartment in great haste, however, had Nadir not forcibly restrained him.

"Erik," Nadir tried for patience once more. "You are not one to rush about mindlessly. I do not understand why you are behaving so irrationally."

Erik sighed, looking away from him once more. "What if she doesn't come back to me? What if she cannot find me?" He suddenly stood, and began pacing the room in great agitation.

Nadir remained seated. Erik needed a steadying hand at the moment. "I shall help you find her. But first, I would like to talk with you about another matter. I need some answers."

Erik looked at him, knowing what the Persian was about to ask him. He said nothing.

Without flinching, Nadir plunged right in. "Why, Erik? Why all this senseless violence? What purpose did it serve to bring the chandelier down? Or did you mean to make innocent people suffer simply because you yourself were in pain?"

Erik wanted to feel anger, but, surprisingly, could not. His shoulders sagged, and he sank onto the divan.

"I...am not...myself, Nadir," he murmured, slowly. "I can only feel a great sadness now. I will continue to feel thus until Christine and I are reunited..."

"You cannot answer my questions, then?

"You must be aware that I cannot", Erik replied morosely as he lowered his head onto his hands.