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. Thanks to my ever faithful beta Luthien Saralonde! She rocks, and always encourages me! Thanks this time also to Timeflies for going over this chapter!

CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN ENEMIES PART 1

All the air escaped from Erik's lungs. What in the devil's name was the boy doing here? Had Christine convinced him that he had threatened her again and he was now out for revenge? Or, against all odds, was it as Florence had said, and he simply wished to inquire about Joséphine, who had fallen ill after all at a ball in his own home?

After the less than splendid confrontation with Christine at the Chagny estate, was he willing to deal with yet another ghost of his past tonight?

"Erik?" the Daroga inquired hesitantly.

'To hell with it,' Erik thought. 'If Joséphine doesn't survive, I might as well end up at the gallows. Or maybe she is right, and I have a right to exist. Let's see then.'

"Send him in," he said, determined.

Mathilde's and Nadir's eyes grew wide as Raoul de Chagny entered the room, both of them apprehensive of what was going to happen. Florence, sensing the tension that had build up as the Vicomte entered the room, looked around, unaware of the complex history that bound two of the men currently present together.

The Vicomte, like the others who had been present at the ball, still wore the same attire as he had hours earlier, though his tie had come loose and the first buttons of his green vest that had matched his wife's robes were open. His shiny shoulder-length hair was still slicked back, but a few strands stood up at odd angles. He clearly had a long night behind him.

Raoul took in the apprehensive faces of the people in the room and for a moment doubted if he had made the right decision in coming here. But people had gotten hurt at a ball he had hosted, and he had to make sure they were alright. He had spent the whole night talking to the police, looking for the culprits, and checking on the people who had suffered from the poisoning. Joséphine was the last on the list of many visits he had done that night.

"Vicomte," Erik said, schooling his voice carefully to betray no emotion.

"Monsieur Perrault," Raoul replied, likewise carefully. He turned towards Nadir. "I believe we haven't been introduced yet. I'm Raoul de Chagny." He stuck out his hand to the dark man.

"Nadir Khan, Monsieur le Vicomte," the Persian replied.

"Are you the doctor from abroad who treated Joséphine during her illness?" the Vicomte asked him, revealing thus that he had not been privy to last months' gossip.

The Daroga shook his head. "No, though I have some medical knowledge." He motioned towards Erik. "I am a friend of Erik," he explained.

Raoul immediately understood the underlying meaning. This person knew that the masked man in front of him was the Opera Ghost. He eyed the dark man suspiciously.

'I wonder what else will be revealed tonight?' he asked himself silently.

Deciding that their common past was a subject too delicate to approach at the time, Raoul turned his attention towards Joséphine. "How is she?"

Erik, still too troubled by the boy's sudden presence, was not prepared to answer, so it was Nadir who spoke up.

"She has not regained consciousness since the ball, and her condition has been very disquieting indeed. We gave her some garlic to hopefully counteract the effects of the poison, but until now, there are no visible results to this treatment."

Meanwhile, Raoul had slowly stepped closer to the bed to get a better look at Joséphine. She still wore the same dress, though the laces of her corset had been loosened to ease her breathing, which was none the less terribly shallow. The midnight blue colour of her dress, which had fit her so well at the ball, made her skin now look even paler, almost ghostly. Her skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration, indicating a fever. Under her eyelids, her eyes darted uncontrollably back and forth, as if she was having a bad dream.

Raoul was shocked. He had not known that the young d'Escayrac was that sick, or he would have come by sooner. When he had talked to her, shortly before she fell unconscious, she did not seem to have been inebriated from the punch. Yet, she was the first to have succumbed to the poison and definitely the sickest. Maybe it affected her that much because she had just recently recovered from a long illness, but still, suspicion reared its head; something did not add up here.

When he made to take her hand, he immediately felt the Phantom's presence behind him. Protectively, Erik had come closer to observe the Vicomte.

All night Raoul had pushed back the visit here; preferring to deal with incompetent Gendarmes who had no idea who could have poisoned the punch than facing the Phantom of the Opera again. All night he had mulled over how best to approach him, since it was inevitable that he paid a visit to Joséphine. All night one horrible scenario after another had come to his mind, and in the end he had chided himself for being so scared.

At the ball his intuition had told him that his former adversary no longer posed a threat to him and Christine, that's why he had cut her off when she had correctly identified Erik Perrault as her former teacher. That fact that the man was now so protective of his wife told him that he had been right. Erik's priorities lay elsewhere now, and from what he had learned in the short conversation with Joséphine, he had finally found someone who returned his feelings.

"I really hope she will get better soon," Raoul said sincerely, turning around to face Erik. The two men looked at each other, their common past still standing between them. "Can we talk?" Raoul murmured. Erik gave a small nod, then glanced over at Nadir.

Nadir nodded in understanding, and walked over to Florence, who stood near the door. "Do you still care for tea, Madame?"

Florence looked between the occupants of the room, still not quite comprehending what was going on. "Yes, thank you," she replied.

Unobtrusively, Nadir motioned for Mathilde to leave the room as well, who promptly slipped out through the adjoining door to Erik's quarters.

As soon as the others had left, Raoul spoke up. "Christine said that you threatened her at the ball."

Erik, who had walked over to the window, whirled around, his face grim. For a moment, he thought about telling the boy the truth about what really had happened, but he was not sure if he was going to believe him.

"Is that why you came here?" Erik asked bitterly.

Raoul shook his head. "No, it isn't." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "It is terrible what happened tonight," he said, not yet willing to approach the delicate subject. "The police are still out looking for the culprit."

"They can stop looking," Erik said. "I know who did this."

The Vicomte's eyes widened. "What? How? You..."

Erik snorted, offended. "No! Do you really think me capable of..." He stopped when he saw the look on Raoul's face, and let out a deep breath. "I admit that, given my past, some might come to this conclusion, but I am not responsible for the poisoned punch."

Raoul raised his arms defensively. "I never thought you were. I am simply curious how you can know who did this."

Erik looked at the man before him. He was so young, and the events at the Opera Garnier were probably his only confrontation with the depths of the human soul. He was not entirely sure if he could trust him.

Still, he motioned for him to join him at the chair near the window. Once Raoul was seated, Erik leaned back against the curtains, and looked over to the bed. "I love her, I really do." Realising that his opponent might misunderstand him, he elaborated. "I mean Joséphine."

Raoul had to smile. "I know, I saw your reaction at the ball when you found her unconscious on the floor. I talked to her just moments before it happened, and I know that she feels the same for you."

"Probably not any more," Erik murmured, crushed.

When Raoul looked at him quizzically, wanting to know more, Erik was momentarily struck with the hilarity of the current situation. He was talking to his former archenemy, discussing his love life! But he had let so many people in on him tonight, what did it matter to talk to the Vicomte now; reassuring him at the same time that he no longer had any plans concerning Christine.

"Joséphine saw me and Christine on the terrace." Now was moment of truth, he would soon know what Christine had told her husband.

"What happened out there between you and my wife?" Raoul asked seriously, discarding his jacket to get more comfortable.

"Did she not tell you?" Erik asked him, suspicious.

"I want to hear it from you."

"You wouldn't believe me if my story differs from Christine's," Erik stated solemnly.

"Try me," Raoul replied.

"Very well," Erik conceded. "I hoped to get closure by seeing Christine one last time." 'Gods, am I really doing this?' he thought. "I was in love with my wife already, but had a hard time admitting it to myself. What I felt for Christine was so...different, so strong, so...I mistook obsession for love," he admitted.

"When she went outside to get fresh air, I followed her, wanting to say goodbye." He hesitated, not sure how the Vicomte would take the news of his wife's reaction. "She...did not respond well to the fact that I no longer desired her," Erik finally said, watching closely for the Vicomte's reaction.

Raoul's mouth opened, but he did not say anything, so Erik continued. "She started teasing me, and then..." Erik let out a deep breath, "...she kissed me. Joséphine unfortunately chose that moment to come outside." Erik had finished his account, and now waited for Raoul's verdict.

Raoul stood and began pacing the room. "You know it's hard, finding the version of your former enemy more believable than that of your own wife." He glanced at Erik, but did not stop moving. "She told me that you had threatened her, forced her to come with you, and that she was only saved by another guest appearing at the doors."

"You believe me rather than her?" Erik asked incredulously.

"If you had planned on taking her away, you would have never shown up at the ball like this," Raoul admitted, finally halting his stride.

Erik was at a loss for words. The Vicomte, whom he had tried to kill only a few months back and who therefore raided the whole town in search for him, was on his side. He looked over to the bed, where Joséphine lay. 'Please let her live,' he prayed silently.

"I have no desire to cross the paths of your wife again, Vicomte," he told him.

Raoul walked up to him, and surprised him by holding out his hand. Erik took it after a moment's hesitation, their handshake a silent promise to bury their strained past, and start a new chapter.

"If your wife lives, it will be inevitable. We are after all in the same class," Raoul answered. "Do you care to tell me now what you know about the poisoning?"

"Joséphine's stepmother is responsible for it," Erik said quietly, sitting down on the bed.

Raoul's eyes widened. "But why?"

"Joséphine made a deal with her father before he disappeared. She had to marry before her twenty-fifth birthday or lose her inheritance," Erik started to explain. "The night I fled the opera was two days before her deadline. She offered me a place to hide in exchange for a marriage."

"So she knew from the beginning who you were?" Raoul asked astounded.

Erik nodded. "When we met, I did not even have anything to conceal..." he motioned towards his face.

Raoul was baffled. He couldn't but admire her strength. When he had first seen the Opera Ghost's face revealed on stage, he had flinched, and his deformity was even worse up close. Yet, she had married him, knowing all the time what he hid behind the mask, and still had fallen in love with him. He was not sure if he could look past such an abhorrent disfigurement.

"If we had not married, all her money would have fallen to her stepmother Clara. You can imagine that she was less than happy when we came home. Clara had actually imprisoned her here to prevent her from marrying," Erik explained.

"Her long illness was nothing but a lie then?" Raoul asked, sensing already where this was going.

Erik nodded. "Clara tried everything to break up the marriage, but did not succeed. I suppose she knows that killing Joséphine will not give her access to the money, but she seems to be solely driven by revenge now. She must have started poisoning her in the last days before the ball, and then added a certain amount of arsenic to the punch to conceal her crime," Erik concluded, his voice again tight with anger.

"She does not know who you are, right?" Raoul asked.

"No, and I prefer to keep it that way."

"Can you prove what she did?"

"Right now, no. Not without exposing Joséphine and therefore probably myself," Erik answered honestly.

Raoul considered the possibilities for a moment, then sighed. "I never thought I was going to say something like this, but you might have to revert to the Phantom's ways to get back at her."

"Joséphine would never approve of it," Erik replied immediately.

Raoul had to smile at that. "You really aren't the same man you were a few months back. But you cannot possibly let her get away with this."

"I don't intend to," Erik said. He stood up and walked over to the window, finally drawing back the curtains to let the morning light shine into the room. He turned back around to face Raoul. "But Joséphine can never know."

"I promise not to say a word," Raoul replied honestly. "So, do you have a plan?"