Chapter Six

The Phantom came in with two plates of food, one much smaller than the other. Alison wondered at the two very different portions and then remembered that in every single fan fiction she had ever read, the Phantom never ate all that much. Not that I should take everything in those stories as absolutely true. Maybe I should just focus on getting to know him without any of the past baggage attached. He placed the larger plate in front of her and sat down across from her at the table.

"Thank you. I really appreciate everything you've done for me. If not for you, I would still be wandering lost around the opera house. I would have been scared out of my mind, not to mention hungry," she added with a small smile.

He looked almost surprised by her thanks. "It was nothing," he said, seeming embarrassed. She actually thanked me? But why? Why would she want to be in this situation with someone like me? He fought to keep from blurting out his questions, as most of them would probably seem impolite.

She began to eat and he followed her example. The food was absolutely delicious – she had a very hard time not shoveling it down. He finished much faster than she did and spent the rest of the meal staring at her in silence.

She finished and looked up at him. "Thank you, monsieur," she said softly.

Why does she continue to thank me? I've done nothing worthy of thanks. "You're welcome, Angelique."

She hesitated for a second and then asked, "What do you want me to call you?"

"What?" It seemed completely off topic and a little strange.

"Since I might have to be here for a while, I can't keep calling you 'monsieur', it seems too formal… unless you want me to call you that… I just thought… I mean, I…" She trailed off into embarrassed silence, cheeks bright red.

Erik felt a sense of shock. No one had ever actually asked him that. They came up with their own names, he thought bitterly. Devil's Child, freak, monster, at least phantom is better. But what did he want her to call him? "You come up with something," he said gruffly, trying to hide all the things the question had made him feel.

"Wow. I should come up with something? Let me think." I can't call him Erik. That would lead to far too many questions that I'm not sure I want to answer right now. Calling him Phantom would be weird. Same with Trap-door Lover and all his other titles. Even Angel of Music would be… Then a thought occurred to her. "Do you speak English?"

"No. It is not a language that is common in the parts I have lived in. I can speak French, German, Spanish, Italian, and Persian, but not English."

She smiled. "I have a name for you."

"What is it?"

"I would like to call you Angel."

"What does it mean?"

She thought for a moment. She knew the literal translation, but giving it would lead to awkward questions, considering that he had posed as an angel to Christine for years. So she gave a definition instead. "I… I don't know how to say it in French. It means… someone who is very kind and who… who watches over people. Protects them. Someone who saves people from harm."

His eyes widened at the definition. "And you really wish to call me this?"

"Yes." He probably wouldn't see it as a complement if I actually gave him the word.

He was clearly shocked and flattered at the same time. Probably no one has actually said anything nice to him before, not even Christine. I'm glad to be the first, but it's sad that I am.

"All right then," he said, unsure. There was a long, awkward silence.

"You said that you could speak Persian. Does that mean you have lived in Persia?"

He was almost used to her random topic changes by now. He didn't usually give out information about himself to strangers, but her curiosity about his actual life instead of what was under the mask flattered him. "Yes, I have lived in Persia. For some years of my life I was employed by the Shah of Persia." He couldn't help preening a little.

Her eyes widened. So that part of the book is true. "I've never been to Persia. Will you tell me what it's like? What did you do in the Shah's court? What were people like? How did they dress? What did it all look like?"

He hesitated. She noticed his pause and her eyes went from curious and interested to embarrassed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I just thought…" She let the sentence trail off into silence.

"No, it is all right. I can tell you some things about my time in Persia, if you would like."

Her face immediately brightened again. "Yes, please!"

He stayed up most of the night telling her stories about his travels. The enthralled look in her eyes and her barrage of questions were intriguing – and flattering. The fact that she actually was interested in what he had to say was inconceivable to him, but no one else had cared about his adventures or anything he had done in his life. No one had listened. Ever.

At one in the morning, his throat finally began to get sore and she started to yawn. She apologized every time, trying to make sure he didn't feel that she wasn't listening. He realized belatedly what the problem was.
"You should get some sleep. You must be tired."

She nodded. "So I guess… I'll see you in the morning then."

"Good night."

Since he didn't feel like sleeping, he stayed up longer to compose. At some point, he decided to check on her. He glided over to the swan bed and his heart jolted when he realized she wasn't there. Where could she have gone? She would have gotten lost in the tunnels and, anyway, she said she was tired, so there was no reason for her to leave. He noticed a movement on the ground and looked down. His eyes went wide with shock when he realized what it was.

Alison was sleeping on the floor, curled up in a ball. A strange emotion slipped its way into his heart. She slept on the floor because she didn't want to inconvenience me by taking my bed! There had been few people who had showed him kindness over the years, but there had never been anyone who had done anything this caring before besides Antoinette. But this was different than what she had done. This girl, Angelique, had showed him a small kindness. Maybe it was small in her eyes, but it was big to him.

He noticed that she was shivering ever so slightly in her sleep. Still filled with that nameless emotion, he swirled the cloak from his shoulders and swept it over her sleeping form. A small smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her, something that rarely happened. Still surprised and touched at what she had done, he went back to his organ and began to write a piece of music unlike any he had ever written before, soft and sweet and slightly sad. A lullaby. Written for the girl who had shown him more compassion than anyone he had ever met.

When she calls him Angel, she is using the English word since she usually speaks French with him. I will always italicize the words every time she (or one of the other characters) is speaking English in Erik's world. It might get a little confusing since their thoughts are also italicized, but I think it should be easy to figure out which is which. To those of you who have stuck with me this far, thank you so much! And please review!