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. A big applause and thanks to my faithful beta Luthien Saralonde, who is always faster in going over the chapter than me writing it...
WAITING
The way from his home to Nadir's apartment on the Rue de Rivoli had never felt so long. Yet, Erik thought it was faster going there himself instead of first writing a note and sending it by messenger. In addition, it gave him something to do. He simply couldn't sit beside his wife, not knowing if she would make it, having nothing that could help her. He had to try everything.
As soon as he arrived in front of Nadir's door, he started pounding ferociously on the wood, not caring if he woke other residents in the building. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long, for when he raised his hand for another assault, the door was ripped open, revealing a dishevelled Nadir.
The Daroga just took one look at Erik, and wordlessly motioned him inside.
Slow from just having woken, he moved over to the kitchen corner, and started heating water.
"We don't have time for tea, Nadir," Erik said, his voice urgent.
Nadir turned around and looked at him. "Tell me then, what makes you come here so late?"
"Joséphine got poisoned," Erik told his friend, coming straight to the point.
"What?" Nadir asked, shocked.
"It's Clara, she gave her something that made her feel worse every day the last week, and at tonight's ball, she passed out, and hasn't awoken since."
"What symptoms does she have?" Nadir enquired, walking over to a book shelf on the opposite wall. He took a book from the third shelf, opening it in the index.
"In the past few days, she complained about a headache, she had no appetite and apparently felt nauseous. Her eyelids and extremities are swollen, and her skin is blotchy," Erik informed his friend.
"Hm, sounds like arsenic, but I better make sure," Nadir replied, licking his thumb before starting to browse through the book.
Minutes passed, while Erik paced the room, impatiently waiting for his friend to find something.
"Why do you have to be a Muslim, my friend? I could clearly use something alcoholic right now!" Agitated, he ran a hand over his head, nearly taking off the wig because of it.
Nadir only paid him a reproachful glance, knowing that Erik had not meant to offend him, and concentrated again on the book. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for.
"There," he said, taking the book over to the table in the dining area for Erik to see. As they both bent over the tome, Erik was apprehensive recognising the Arabic script. It had been a while since he had read something in other than Latin letters, so it took him a while to read and translate the text.
Nadir was faster than his friend, and looked up once he had finished. "Just as I thought, her symptoms match perfectly with arsenic poisoning," he told Erik.
"Is there an antidote?" Erik asked his friend, a hinge of hope in his voice.
"We need garlic. It says that the sulphur it contains may help clean the body of the arsenic.* There is nothing else indicated here that could be useful." Nadir shut the book and went in the bedroom to get dressed.
"How do you think Clara got a hold of it?" Erik asked him from the living room, his voice raised to be heard.
"As far as I know," Nadir explained, buttoning his robe while he emerged from the bedroom, "women use arsenic to lighten their complexion, either in pills or in skin powders. I guess the dose in the pills could be enough to poison somebody, I don't think there is enough arsenic in the powder though."
Nadir went back to the bedroom, having forgotten his frock coat. "Do you have any idea what food or drink contained the poison?" he called out from inside, emerging seconds later.
"The Cassis!" At Nadir's questioning look, Erik elaborated. "The day we got the invitation, Clara did not drink her usual glass of Cassis with Joséphine after dinner, preferring stronger alcohol that night. I don't think I saw her drink the Cassis this week at all."
As soon as Nadir was ready, they rushed out of the house. Since Erik was not sure if they had garlic in his house's kitchen, Nadir proposed to split up, offering to get some cloves from a nearby restaurant, tavern or shop, a task which could be difficult, given the lateness of the hour, while Erik headed back home as fast as he could.
When he got back, Erik decided to check on his wife first. Furthermore, it was probably less suspicious if Mathilde went looking for some garlic in the servant's part of the house than himself.
Climbing the stairs in a run, he went into Joséphine's room without caring to knock. He stepped over to the bed, looking over his wife. Her breathing was more laboured than when he had left, and Mathilde tried to feed her some water in small doses, holding the glass to her friend's mouth, while Florence massaged her throat, making sure she swallowed.
The women did not notice him at first, so Mathilde gave a small yelp when she put the glass back on the night table and found Erik looming over them.
She spoke before he could ask the question.
"I fear it's getting worse, Monsieur. She can't keep the water down, and has had fits of uncontrollable shaking." Mathilde had trouble looking directly at Erik, for the desperation on his face made her eyes tear up again.
Florence was slightly more controlled and took over the conversation. "Have you found something that could help her?"
Erik tore his gaze away from the unconscious body of his wife, once more quelling down the fear of losing her or it would overwhelm and paralyse him completely.
"Maybe," he addressed Mathilde. "Go look for some garlic in the kitchen. My friend said it helps against arsenic poisoning."
Wasting no time in questioning his order, Mathilde rose immediately, curtsied slightly and rushed out of the room.
"Arsenic? That's what she used?" Florence asked Erik, rising as well.
Erik nodded. "It's used in cosmetics, so she could easily get it."
Florence grew pale. She had also used arsenic pills from time to time, had even taken it before the Chagny ball to improve her fair complexion. She had heard about women taking too much and nearly dying of an overdose, but she would have never expected Clara to stoop so low and use it to poison her stepdaughter.
"Oh Erik, I wish there was anything I could do to help." She hoped not only for her friend's, but also for his sake that Joséphine would soon be well again. In a comforting gesture, she placed her hand on his, and was not surprised when he jerked away. Sensing that he needed a moment alone with his wife, she strode towards the door.
"I'll go send for news from the investigation. We wouldn't want the police to arrest some innocent servant, right?"
Erik only nodded, already turning back to the bed, sitting down on it after Florence had left. Gently, he pushed a strand of hair out of Joséphine's face. Her skin felt damp and clammy, and fear gripped his heart again. He cleared his throat.
"O Joséphine, I am so sorry for what I have done to you. I knew your feelings toward me, and yet I still treated you poorly. I was... selfish...I don't know what I expected from seeing Christine again."
"I know now that I didn't see what chance I had though it was right in front of me. Seeing you there on the floor, nothing else mattered but you."
Erik took her hand in his own, stroking it gently, then stilled when his fingers touched the wedding band she wore. Tears came to his eyes.
"I promise I will buy you a real wedding band. And we will travel the world; I will show you all the places you wanted to see."
His tears had started falling freely now, and Erik angrily tore away his mask, wiping them away.
"Please stay with me, Joséphine, I love you, I will..."
The door opened, and Mathilde rushed back in, a desolate expression on her face. Her eyes widened when she set eyes on Erik's unmasked face. Realising his exposed condition, Erik reached immediately for the mask and turned his head away to put it back on.
"I am sorry Monsieur," Mathilde whispered, somehow troubled by what she had just witnessed. "All the garlic was used in last night's dinner and Clementine hasn't bought new one yet," she continued, again on the verge of tears.
Erik's heart sank, and he hoped that the Daroga would be more successful at acquiring the spice.
Thankfully, he did not have to wait long, for Florence appeared at the opened door, followed by the Persian.
"I hope you don't mind me letting him..." Florence began.
Erik sprang from the bed. "Did you...?" he asked, and let out a deep sigh, when Nadir reached into his left pocket and took out some cloves.
"My friend," Nadir said tentatively, "don't get your hopes too high, we cannot be sure yet if it is not already too late to help her."
Erik shook his head. "No, it won't be. It just cannot."
Nadir turned towards Mathilde. "Please child, get me a board and a knife. We need to crush the garlic and feed it to her."
Mathilde dashed out of the room again as fast as possible to get what the dark man needed.
She was back immediately, handing the utensils over to Nadir, who, having taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, silently cut and crushed the cloves he had peeled before. The intense aroma of the garlic began to fill the room. Then he gave it back to Mathilde, who fed her friend the crushed spice while Erik held Joséphine's head.
When they were finished, they gave her some water after to help the garlic go down easier; Erik massaging his wife's throat just as Florence had done earlier.
Silence filled the room once they were done, all eyes focused on Joséphine's prone body. Her condition still was unchanged.
"Now we must see that she keeps it down," Nadir finally broke the palpable silence. "We'll give her another dose of it in the late morning, and see if her condition improves."
He rolled down his sleeves and put his jacket back on, then offered his arm to Florence. "I think it is too late to go back to bed now. Would you care for some tea?"
Florence bestowed him with a grateful smile. The whole ordeal had exhausted her, but like all the others in the room, she was incapable of going to sleep without first knowing if her friend would survive. She looked back towards Erik and Joséphine.
"We won't be far."
Erik nodded. "I'll call for you as soon as her condition changes."
When they opened the door, they heard the entrance door open and a commotion downstairs. Erik sprang from the bed again, his back straight and his face livid.
"She wouldn't dare coming home now!" He strode towards the door, and had to be held back with the combined forces of Nadir, Florence and Mathilde, who had jumped up from her place in the corner on the other side on the bed to help restrain her employer.
"Erik, calm down," Nadir said sternly. "I don't think that was her."
"If you want, I can go and take a look. You can stay with your wife," Florence offered.
Erik, whose eyes had been fixed on the corridor, was waiting for Clara's face to appear at any moment, laughing at them. Slowly, he got himself back under control and finally nodded in acquiescence.
"I will be right back," Florence said, throwing a troubled glance at the Persian before she left, closing the door behind her.
Letting out a deep breath, Erik indicated his friend that he could let go of him, then walked over to the window.
His friend was probably right, it couldn't have been Clara. She had to know that he would find her guilty of what had happened, and would not dare come home, fearing the repercussions. She had every reason to stay as far away as possible at the moment. But where she had gone to after the ball, he had absolutely no idea.
What he would do now to have her at his mercy. Every torture he used under the reign of the Khanum came to his mind, but still they would not be enough. The mirror cabinet could have been a good start, but he doubted that it had survived the raging fires that had consumed the opera.
Unconsciously, his hands started wringing the thick tissue of the curtains, until the sound of tearing garment elicited a sound from Mathilde and brought Erik's mind back into the room. He turned around to look at her, and was taken aback by the look on her face.
"We all have the same thoughts going through our minds, Monsieur," Mathilde commented. "But you are the most capable to do something about it," she continued, imitating a hanging gesture. Now it was Nadir's turn to gasp. He looked at Erik, an unspoken question in his eyes. Erik nodded tiredly.
"It seems I did not hide so well after all, my friend," he told the Persian.
"You knew?" Nadir asked the maid, unbelievingly.
"I'm not stupid Monsieur," Mathilde said somewhat offended. "I did not say anything because of Joséphine. She loves him, and I would never go against her."
"This is most..." Nadir began, but was interrupted by Florence coming in.
"Raoul de Chagny is here to see Joséphine, Erik."
A/N: Arsenic has no taste, and is therefore ideal for poisoning, mixed with food or drink. In 1836 James Marsh, a British chemist developed a method to recognize arsenic poisoning in dead bodies. I couldn't find out if they were capable to recognize and counteract the poison on the still living.
Usually death occurs 4-24 hours after ingestion, but I prolonged the effects, for obvious story development. Clara gave her a dose in the Cassis on Monday, and then, seeing that it's not working fast enough, pours poison into the punch at the ball.
* I read on the net (Wikipedia – arsenic poisoning) that the sulfur-containing substances in garlic scavenge arsenic from tissues and blood and help as a preventative in areas at risk of arsenic contamination in the water supply. I'm taking some liberties with this information, making garlic the antidote, as well with describing the symptoms of the poisoning; some were just to cruel to let Joséphine suffer from them.