I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart. BIG thanks to Luthien Saralonde for doing an amazing job this time betaing this chapter, thanks also to Green6Eyed7Lady for looking over it!

TALKS, TRUTH AND TEARS

The carriages ride home seemed to last an eternity for Erik. The doctor, a wiry man in his fifties with greyish hair and a walrus moustache, was continuously checking up on Joséphine, and Erik concentrated on every breath she took, fearing it might be her last.

At home, Erik nearly broke down the door, hastening to get his wife in her room, so the doctor could examine her properly. Mathilde and other servants had come rushing into the vestibule when they heard the entrance door open with a bang, wanting to know what was going on. Erik barked at them to leave him alone, motioning only for Mathilde to join them.

In her room, the doctor began a thorough examination of Joséphine, checking her pulse, breathing and temperature. Erik waited impatiently for the doctor's verdict, pacing the room, while Mathilde cowered near the door, ready to dash out as fast as possible in case anything was needed to help her friend.

After a few minutes, the doctor turned from the bed and addressed Erik.

"Has your wife eaten anything out of the ordinary?" the doctor asked, his tone severe.

Honestly, Erik had no idea, but then he saw Mathilde shaking her head.

"No Monsieur," Mathilde replied.

"She has not been ill in the last months?" the doctor inquired.

Erik shook his head. "No."

The doctor turned towards the bed once more before addressing Erik. "I am sorry to say that I don't know the cause of her illness. It seems like her body functions are shutting down, and I really don't know how to help her," he told him compassionately.

Erik was devastated, for the thought that he might actually lose her was too much for him to bear. His head jerked up when Mathilde spoke.

"Monsieur, could she have been poisoned?"

Erik's blood ran cold. Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course it was poison, and he knew who was responsible for it. He mentally berated himself for not being more suspicious of Clara's behaviour the last few days. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with the event of the upcoming ball, he perhaps could have put an end to, or even prevented, Josephine's suffering.

A rage so hot and overwhelming it took all of his self-control to suppress it overtook him then, but he was able to tether it down after several deep breaths. He was certain this was the product of Clara's devising, but before he had garnered enough proof, he did not want the doctor to be the wiser of his suspicions.

The doctor looked at Mathilde for a moment before responding. "What makes you say that?"

"I..." she began, but was stopped short by the look Erik shot her. "Just a thought, Monsieur."

"I admit that poison could very well be the cause, but I shall have to research the symptoms she has displayed in order to find one that could have caused this reaction." The doctor closed his bag and strode towards the door.

"At the moment we can do nothing but wait and see if her body is strong enough to overcome this illness. Give her water; it may help clear her system. Otherwise, there isn't much we can do for her."

Beside him, Mathilde broke into sobs, and though Erik felt similarly, his fury and drive to exact revenge drowned out all other emotions at that time.

"I will come by tomorrow morning to check on her. If her condition changes at all, for better or for worse, during the night, then send me a message, and I shall make all haste to come here," the doctor said, shaking Erik's hand before leaving the room.

As soon as he was gone, Mathilde rushed forward to kneel by her friend's bedside, giving into her tears. Erik looked at the scene for a moment, then stepped forward, touching her shoulder lightly. She turned her head to look at him through watery eyes.

"I would never have thought the Mistress capable of doing something like that," she choked. "But it was her, right?

Erik produced a handkerchief and handed it to Mathilde before replying, somehow glad that she had come to the same conclusions.

"I think so, and believe me, Clara will pay for it."

"But without proof, the police cannot arrest her," Mathilde told him.

"I will find a way," Erik replied with a deadly voice before striding over to the connecting door.

Mathilde looked at him for a moment, hesitating a moment before she spoke, halting him effectively.

"If you use your lasso, people will know who you are," she whispered, just loud enough so he was able to hear her.

Erik wheeled around, shock written all over his unmasked side.

"What did you just say?" he choked out.

"Monsieur, I am not stupid," Mathilde said, bravely standing up as she spoke. After she had dried her face on her sleeve, she continued, "You came here with half your face covered, just after the scandal at the Opera Garnier. I had...feared that you had threatened Josephine to take you back with her, when you first arrived, even though Joséphine told me your marriage resulted out of a mutual agreement."

Erik opened his mouth to reply, but Mathilde stopped him, raising her hand. "I know now that my assumptions were wrong." She cast a glance back towards the bed, where Joséphine laid, her breath coming in shallow gasps, before looking back at Erik. "But after everything she had to go through, you cannot blame me for wanting to protect her," she said, her voice stern.

"Mathilde…"

"Don't worry, Monsieur, your secret is safe with me," she assured him, a small smile gracing her lips. "You two are good for each other. So please, be careful when you deal with Clara. Joséphine needs you."

Erik looked at her, astonished. So the girl had known all the time? Had she talked to Joséphine?

"Does…"

"No, Joséphine doesn't know I am aware of your identity. She always protected your secret," she answered his unasked question, before he even had time to finish formulating the sentence.

"Thank you," Erik said after a while, making her blush.

"What do we tell the other servants, Monsieur?" Mathilde asked him, having understood that he wasn't at ease to talk any more about this and thus changing the subject.

At that moment, the door flew open to reveal Florence, panting heavily. She took a moment to take everything in, then immediately turned towards Erik.

"How is she?" she asked, concerned.

"We will see," Erik replied, surprised by her presence.

"I came here as soon as I could. It seems that one of the servants poisoned the punch."

"What?"

Letting herself fall down into the chair next to the window, Florence caught her breath before continuing. "After you left, others started complaining about stomach aches and general unease, though Joséphine is the only one so far that passed out. She must not have completely recovered from her illness, since she was affected more than the others," she pondered.

Erik and Mathilde exchanged a glance, shock clearly written over both of their faces. Neither of them would have thought Clara to be so ruthless as to risk the health and lives of others to get rid of her stepdaughter.

"Mathilde, tell the servants not to disturb us," Erik finally said.

"What about…?"

Erik shook his head. "No, not yet."

Mathilde gave a small nod, then, after curtsying to both of them, quietly left the room.

Erik joined Florence at the window, his face stern. "Tell me what happened."

"You had been gone for only a few minutes, when the Vicomte d'Yveslains started complaining about cramps and such. Within minutes others showed the same symptoms. The Vicomte let call for another doctor, who in turn alerted the police after examining and questioning those who had fallen sick. All had consumed a rather large amount of punch, and at the moment the doctors are trying to find out which poison has been poured into it."

Florence looked outsight into the night. "The police think that someone does not approve of the Vicomte's choice of wife and wanted to cause a scandal. The poor girl, I cannot imagine how she must feel right now."

"This has nothing to do with Christine," Erik said quietly, not even registering that he was using the Vicomtesse's Christian name.

Florence looked at him quizzically. "I beg your pardon?"

Erik hesitated for a moment, but then decided that it was worth the risk to confide in Florence de Douville.

"There are some things you should probably know, Florence," he began, his voice heavy.

"You're scaring me, what are you talking about?" Florence asked him, concerned.

"First of all, Joséphine has never been sick, and what she's suffering from now is all Clara's doing."

Florence gasped. "What? I remember receiving a letter from Joséphine, telling me that Clara had forbidden her to leave the house. But just the day before, Clara had informed me that Joséphine had started hallucinating because of her high fever, believing herself imprisoned and rejecting every help Clara wanted to give her." She stood and approached the bed. "But look at her now!" She motioned towards the bed, her face distraught. "You cannot be serious, Erik! Clara could not have hurt her husband's daughter!" she cried, needing desperately to believe that no one she knew would be capable of hurting someone like that.

"Did you know that Joséphine signed a contract with her father, forcing her to marry before her twenty-fifth birthday or her inheritance would almost entirely fall to Clara?"

Florence's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"It would not have been a big problem, had her father not gone missing, and her stepmother imprisoned her to prevent her from finding a husband in time," Erik recounted.

"So her illness was really nothing but a lie?" Florence asked, her voice trembling, dreading his answer,

Erik nodded slowly, and Florence broke into tears, sagging back down into the chair.

"But...I suspected that things were not as they seemed when I was denied entry to visit Joséphine. Up until that moment I had taken Clara's word at face value, because...she..." she stopped, unable to continue.

Pulling a handkerchief out of her reticule, she cleared her nose, then continued, hiccupping slightly. "Oh God, I should have been more suspicious."

Not knowing how to react to the second woman who broke into tears in front of him in only a few minutes, Erik reached out and awkwardly patted her hand. "It's not your fault, do not blame yourself, I beg you."

"What happened then?" Florence asked, having composed herself enough to continue the conversation.

"Shortly before her birthday, Joséphine stole out of the house, wanting to go to the poorhouse to bribe someone into marrying her. She stopped in a church to seek encouragement in prayer, and that is where I first met her." Erik gave a lopsided smile, remembering their first encounter.

"Why were you there?"

Erik pondered for a moment about what to tell her without her making the connection between him and the Phantom as Mathilde had done. But he could think of no lie convincing enough to replace the truth.

"I am…not a handsome man," he began, his tone quiet, hesitating of baring his soul before this woman. "I had been rejected far too often because of my disfigurement, and I thought about ending my life back then. And then, suddenly, this woman appeared, begging me to marry her. At first, I refused, thinking she was joking, but she would not give up so easily."

"She has always been rather stubborn," Florence said.

"It was purely a marriage of convenience. She had gained access to her inheritance, and I had found a wife who at least could stand my appearance."

"But…I've seen the way you two look at each other," Florence chided in. "There is something between you."

"You are right, there is now. I simply wanted to tell you how we came to this." He gave a nod towards the bed. "Clara tried everything to bring us apart, which effectively brought us only closer. Over the last few days, Joséphine seemed to have fallen sick, though she always waved it off when asked about it. I think Clara has somehow succeed in poisoning her in the last week."

"But she would gain nothing from this!" Florence exclaimed. "As her husband, all of Joséphine's money belongs to you!"

"I think she is aware of that, and that her sole motive is getting revenge by killing Joséphine," Erik stated.

"We cannot…we must inform the police!" Florence told him, agitated.

"And tell them what?" Erik shook his head. "We don't even know what kind of poison it is. And I must admit that it was a stroke of genius that made her pour the poison into the punch, so other guests at the ball would fall ill as well. Since it is common knowledge that Joséphine has just recovered from a severe illness, nobody would find it suspicious that she was more affected by it than others. There is no proof for Clara's involvement."

"You do not mean to let her get away with this?" Florence asked, appalled.

"Of course not," Erik replied in a tone that sent shivers up Florence's spine. "But first, we have to take care of Joséphine." Erik stood and held up his hand, which she took gratefully, still shaken by everything Erik had revealed to her.

"The doctor said that there isn't much we could do but sit and wait. But I have a friend who worked in law enforcement in Persia, where poisonings are much more common. He might be more knowledgeable about it and link the symptoms to a specific poison. Will you look over her while I notify him of what happened?"

"Of course!" Florence sat down on the bed next to her still unconscious friend. Before Erik opened the door, she called after him. "Thank you for trusting me with the truth, Erik."

Erik nodded and then stepped out of the room, almost falling over Mathilde, who had been waiting in the corridor.

"How is she?" she asked him almost instantly.

"Unchanged. Make sure to give her water like the doctor said. And do not let anyone else into the room."

"Where are you going?"

"I am getting a friend who might be able to help her. Madame de Douville will stay with her while I am gone." Not waiting for her reply, Erik almost flew down the stairs, and dashed out of the front door. He wanted to be back as soon as possible, hopefully with something to save his beloved wife.