(Authors Note: In the canon worlds of Leroux and Kay, the Daroga (a Persian policeman), also called the Persian or Nadir, is a man from Erik's past life in employ of the Sultan. )
The man in the turban walked down the street swiftly, looking conspicuous around the Parisians in their top hats and dark coats. His eyes were sharp, and darted everywhere as if trying to survey the area around him as he walked. He found what he was looking for, and in a flash, he darted into an alley. He waited for a second or two, as he put on the hood of his cloak. He edged himself back into the people walking closely on the sidewalk, strutting slowly as a dark haired, blue eyed woman walked quickly past him. He smiled to himself, his dark countenance nearly invisible under the hood of the cloak. He turned in the opposite direction and made his way back to his flat using a circuitous, convoluted path.
The Persian thought this as he walked along in the cool night.
Curious. I never thought I would be trying to run away from a beautiful woman. I wonder what she wants from me. I will have to find out one day, for this vixen seems quite persistent. More persistent than those blasted detectives I managed to evade. It may have something to do with the Opera house; my contacts there have told me of several people outside of the police who have been asking questions.
As he put down his hood near his flat, he heard an almost imperceptible whisper next to him.
"Daroga." He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around, fully expecting to find nothing. He walked a few paces, and then heard it again.
"Daroga." He looked around at where the voice seemed to emanate, turning with a tiny smile.
"Show yourself, Ghost." He smirked, knowing the response already.
"Sorry, I cannot grace you with that display. I will meet you in the usual place, with my usual drink, Daroga."
"Where have you been, you damned fool?"
"A damned fool indeed. But who is the one speaking to thin air, Nadir?" Said the voice next to his ear. Then silence.
Nadir continued on to his flat. That quiet whisper stirred so many questions in his mind, so many fears. The Persian did not know where the menace he sometimes considered a friend, sometimes enemy, had been over the last few months, he had vanished without a trace; sight unseen long after the Viscount and his fiancée had resurfaced, those two saying nothing about their ordeal.
Disappearance was not unusual behavior for Erik, and Nadir knew it would do no good looking for the man outside of his usual haunts. Erik was way too clever to be found if he did not want to be. With a bitter chuckle, Nadir remembered using all his intellect and resources to locate and confront the former assassin in his homeland, when it had been his duty to do so. He took pity on Erik; or Erik on him…They had developed a strange relationship; one borne out of respect and fear on his part, but out of loneliness and boredom on Erik's part, Nadir suspected.
Nadir had a nagging suspicion that something bad had happened to Erik, however. After the loss of one or two wandering policemen, the investigation in the lair was called off by the Parisian Police because of the danger present. Erik's traps did not care who fell prey, friend, foe or innocent. Nadir, Christine and Raoul had successfully kept the secret of the Rue Scribe entrance hidden. The Persian, knowing a bit more about the place, had gone through the wreckage in the basement of the opera house afterward, after the mobs had destroyed the place the monster, the genius called home. He was surprised to find so much left behind, and collected things he knew would be of value to the scourge. While there, he looked around a bit, but not too much, wary of traps. One thing Nadir now knew, finally, at this point, was that Erik was alive. Nadir begrudgingly breathed a sigh of relief, because Madame Giry had sworn he was dead.
Erik was being mischievous and evasive as usual; as good as a heart laden with bitterness could get. Nadir had been reading a newspaper earlier and found the announcement of Christine and Raoul's wedding. He was sure the visit was related to that. And there was the little detail of a torched opera house that he wanted to speak to Erik about. That little display onstage had made Erik, or the Phantom, one of the most wanted men in Paris. At least until the fickle eye of the magistrate's office was turned onto more productive pursuits. It was exceedingly dangerous for Erik to be lurking about, particularly anywhere near Nadir.
Having been entrusted with Erik's finances by Erik himself some time ago, Nadir had already begun the Phantom's monetary penance for his sin of destruction. Erik had invested wisely, through Nadir's intercession, and his wealth had grown in the several years that Erik had been thoroughly engrossed with his newest obsession of turning a charming and talented chorus girl into the newest Diva. Even Erik's insatiable desire for the finest things money could buy did not put a dent in his coffers. A "secret benefactor" was now paying for the majority of the recovery of the Opera house. It seemed right to Nadir that Erik himself begin the costly reparation of the inside of the opera house, for that edifice that Erik had lovingly constructed with his own hand, shedding his own blood and sweat on the foundation, was still quite sound.
Even Erik's life-threatening reliance on mind numbing drugs had also waned during the period he was training Christine. Nadir had grown hopeful. Problems arose when Erik, inevitably, grew too close to the girl, and the man dammed with a frightful appearance fell in love with his beautiful Angel of music. Nadir knew it could only end in tragedy. The proportions were so immense; Nadir would forever regret that he had not done something about it before the catastrophe came to fruition. Nadir had hoped that music would save his dying soul. It just managed to destroy his heart.
Nadir climbed the steps into his flat and was greeted by his faithful servant Darius at his door.
"Master, I am so happy to see you. Truly, you must let me go with you next time, for protection's sake, on future outings." said Darius, the concern for him genuine in his dark eyes.
"Thank you, Darius, but it is much easier for one to avoid detection than two. And I am not worried about being hurt. People are interested in gleaning information from me, therefore I am of more use alive." He gave him a smile and a bow of thanks, relinquishing the cane and cloak.
"Oh, and Darius, can you prepare some tea for me and a guest. Lemon tea, in the style of the Russians. And leave it in my library, thank you." Nadir turned and walked swiftly to his bedroom, avoiding the horrified glance coming from Darius.
Darius knew what lemon tea meant.
A short time later, Nadir entered his comfortable, warm library in his robes, ready to face his guest. At first glance, the room filled with Persian artifacts, intricate rugs and bookshelves filled to capacity with texts looked deserted. The newly made tea was already sitting there, steaming. Only one cup rested on the marble table next to the sofa.
A small rustle emanated from the corner behind the door and a hooded figure advanced from the shadows, placing the second cup of hot tea on the nearby table. Nadir's brows knit with confusion.
What is this? Trepidation?
Without a word, the specter seated itself heavily on the sofa, awaiting a word from Nadir, who could see the eyes shining underneath the hood, looking directly at him.
"What brings you here, Phantom?" he said, sitting gingerly across from him. As upset as Nadir was, he knew better than to jump at this man. It could mean unleashing his fury and a prompt exit.
"Hello, Daroga." He said, pulling off the hood and letting it fall to his shoulders.
To Nadir's surprise, there was no mask on his face. Erik noticed his reaction and quickly turned away, showing only the left side of his face to Nadir.
"I apologize, I do not mean to offend."
"Don't be ridiculous, Erik. I am not offended, just surprised." He said. "I see you now use another mask." Nadir was referring to the thick veil of hair falling over Erik's face and shoulders.
I have never seen him with hair that thick before, or skin that had ever been any color other than ashen...
Erik turned back to look at the Persian, who was looking at him with wonder on his face. Erik's memory of this man was incomplete, but he got the impression he was possibly the only friend he had, before Capellen. He had taken a chance to come find him, in desperation.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Erik said, but then held up his hand. "Wait, before you answer, I must tell you something. I have been suffering from amnesia and am in the stage of sorting through my memories, which have only recently returned. Most of them are terrible, horrible memories. All of our dealings may not be available to me, so do not assume anything. I do not even remember clearly if you are an advocate or an adversary, but I believe you are the former, or I would not have come."
Nadir sat back, his look of wonder increasing. "Allah works in mysterious ways indeed. You remembered my name, the location of my flat, how to enter covertly, and our custom of having tea when we meet. Yet you do not know if I am friend or foe. You took quite a chance." Nadir said, relishing for a delicious second finally being one up on Erik. But the familiar green eyes he gazed into were so different now. "We have been both in the past, Erik, but in general we are on good terms." Nadir confessed. Erik nodded, looking relieved, and then tensed visibly, his eyes growing wide, as a memory revealed itself.
"I remember opium, and a young boy …and death." Erik said shakily as he looked back at Nadir, his eyes saddened and shocked. He stood abruptly and walked away, to face the window, away from the pain he saw in the Persian's face at the mention of the boy.
"Yes Erik. My son. You were close to him." Nadir said, looking after Erik.
Erik rubbed at his head, eyes closed and his body began to shake. From his exasperated sigh, Nadir realized Erik was shaking with sadness, something so rare; it touched his hardened policeman's heart.
"He was very ill for a long time, Erik. He died a quick, painless death thanks to you. He is at peace now. Do not mourn him." Said Nadir, trying to reassure Erik.
"I apologize for my display. When the memories return they always come with their emotions, all at once. I have been spared nothing. It has been a difficult journey with so much overwhelming pain." Erik leaned against the window and breathed deeply, repeatedly.
"Come, sit again with me, my friend. I will help you the best I can. But I have questions to ask of you." Said Nadir. Erik looked back at the distinguished gentleman, memories of their many interactions in Persia filling his head. He continued pulling himself together and returned to the couch.
Who is this man parading around in Erik's body? I sense an immense change in him. Something strange has happened. Something good has happened to him, thank Allah.
"Let us start with something you should be able to answer. Where have you been?"
Erik looked away from him, a look of sadness in his eyes.
"I have been to heaven, Nadir. I have felt the love of an angel. I have been in the company of compassionate strangers, who saved my life. I was treated with endless mercy."
Nadir sat back, and nodded. "You look well, better than I have ever seen you. Your skin is colored by the sun, and there is flesh where there was just skin and bones. You have been nourished, Erik, and not just physically. That too, I can see. Why, if things have been so good, are you so sad?"
"Everything was wonderful until my memories returned. Nadir, I was a different man until then… I was respected, liked. People around me accepted me without question. Yes, there were those who did not like my appearance but they just left me alone. No one ridiculed me or tried to hurt me or kill me. No one tried to use me for their own gain. For the most part I existed like everyone else…and for once in my life I truly believed I could be like everyone else. I believed I could live happily."
Erik fell back into the couch and placed his hands over his eyes. Elaine was forever in his thoughts, every waking and sleeping moment. "Nadir, never once did I wear a mask in their presence. I did not need to hide my horrible face, can you believe that? I did not want to hurt or kill anyone or numb my pain with drugs, I did not need to lie or be deceitful. I did not need to steal or cheat or kill to stay alive. It was heaven."
Nadir rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Then what happened? What did you do to get thrown out of heaven?"
Erik looked back at Nadir, sensing the bitterness in his tone. "I left of my own volition, thank you. I see you do not think very highly of me."
"On the contrary, I hold you in the highest regard. But I know what you are capable of. It is just our history, Erik. Pardon me for assuming. Go on."
With difficulty, Erik continued. "My memories came back with a vengeance, as they most certainly would have, eventually. I fell back into my violent ways almost immediately, but I was confused; who was I really, the man I became there, or the phantom, the murderer I was? I could not mesh the two, I nearly lost my mind trying to. It did not take long for me to realize that I did not belong; I do not deserve that heaven or mercy. So I left." He threw up his hands.
The daroga reached over and poured some more tea. "And what of this…angel you speak of?" he said, looking at Erik, with a smirk.
"She is there."
Nadir laughed a little. "I knew you would be unable to avoid the fair sex, Erik, the idea of them will torture until your days end. You got a little taste of the sweetness and you left, did you not?"
Erik stood up, a little angry. "I don't know what you mean, but I do not like your implication, Daroga."
"I did not imply anything that you should be angry about Erik. Sit down, please." Nadir motioned to the couch. "I see that some things don't change. Like your temper."
Erik sat down slowly, looking at the man intensely. "Explain yourself."
"I will. But first, tell me about her." Nadir leaned forward for the explanation. As Nadir expected, the expression on Erik's face changed completely.
Oh, yes. The poor man has fallen in love again. When will he learn?
Erik sighed as his heart immediately began to ache. "She is…perfect. Intelligent, compassionate, funny and beautiful. Not just on the outside, but within, she is a beautiful creature. The way she looks at me melts my soul, the way she touched me, kissed me…I could have died and it would not have mattered to me. She said she loved me, of her own free will." He dropped his head down. "She loves me still, I am afraid."
"And how old is this one?" Chided Nadir.
"Elaine is not a young innocent, Nadir. She has had history when it comes to men; including a child out of wedlock. She is not without her own demons." Snarled Erik.
Nadir bit his tongue, and then continued. "So, did you tell her about Persia, about your forest of mirrors? Your 'skill' with the Punjab?"
Erik looked like a man beaten into submission. "Yes. She knows the truth about my past now." He said, in a hushed whisper. He thought of his journal, and in his heart, he knew she was reading it.
"And about Boquet? Christine? The chandelier?"
Erik rubbed at his head roughly "Yes, yes and yes. Can you get to the point of this interrogation, Daroga?" He said, with a harsh glare.
Nadir stood up and walked around, behind Erik. Erik followed him with his eyes, then looked forward, away from his gaze.
"And she forgave you?" He asked.
"That remains to be seen. I told her just before I came. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. She said not God or anyone else could change what I have done in my past." Erik swallowed hard as his eyes glazed over. "I left because told me that she needed space and time. Nadir, This demon does not deserve the love of that angel." Nadir guffawed.
"Wise woman. Tell me Erik, do you love her?"
Erik turned to face Nadir, who had sat back down in his chair. "Yes, Nadir. I love her with every bit of my soul. So much it hurts to be away from her. I feel sometimes I cannot breathe." Erik gripped at his chest, the pain rising again.
Nadir looked pensive. "Is there anything you can think of that can make you not love her? Christine's love, perhaps? I see you still wear her ring."
Erik lifted an eyebrow. He looked down at his hand, finally remembering the ring. "All I want from Christine is forgiveness for what I have done to her. It was not fair."
"What if your angel were to lay with another man?" Erik lost himself in thought.
Would I feel betrayal? I would still love her, even if she ended up with someone else. After all, I am the one who is pushing her away. She should find love in the arms of someone capable of making her happy. I want her to be happy, even if it kills me.
"To answer your question, No, not if that is what she wanted." He said solemnly.
"So, what are you going to do?" Said Nadir.
"I don't really know. Maybe, I could go back to the opera house…" Erik said letting his mind drift for a second. Nadir got up abruptly. Erik jumped back, defensively.
"Erik, sometimes I think you are an idiot! The only thing that excuses your actions is your lack of experience in these matters. You were given a gift, Erik. A special gift, by Allah," This man made him so mad, sometimes. Nadir stopped himself. "Erik, were you meaning to not return to her?" He said accusingly.
"Honestly, I am very unsure of what my actions will be in the future." Erik retorted. "Why are you getting so upset about it?"
"Oh yes, I remember. You do not believe you deserve her. Look Erik, I am not going to stand here and watch you throw her love away because you feel you should punish yourself." Said Nadir, finally sitting back down. He crossed his hands in front of him and gathered his words.
"Think of it this way if you must, my friend. She said she loved you before. After telling her about your past, all that she said was she needed time and space, correct?" Erik looked sadly at the ceiling.
"You do not understand, you did not see how devastated she was." Erik resisted.
"Well, what do you expect, Erik? I would find it strange if she did not have that reaction. Your past is devastating. Give her the time and the space. Then return to her and talk with her. Love is a powerful, strange thing, Erik. It can heal wounds and build bridges. Even bridges between angels and demons." Nadir said with a glint in his eye.
Erik looked down at the table, evaluating his words. "I cannot live through that kind of rejection again. It will kill me the next time."
"And what if it is not rejection? Would it be so hard to believe you may be denying her happiness?" Nadir smiled internally as he saw the realization wash over Erik's face.
Erik looked at Nadir with surprise. He had never thought of it that way. He could never deny Elaine happiness. Her joy based on him? No, the thought was too rewarding.
"Stop it, Nadir, you are making me dream foolishly." Erik said gruffly.
"Foolish dreams or your destiny? You must find out." Nadir said, standing up and walking to a cabinet in the room, leaving Erik to think about it for a minute. Already Nadir thought he saw Erik's gloom start to lift.
"Well, there you go again, Daroga, interfering with my life." He said, eyeing the bag the Persian was carrying with suspicion.
"It is my job, Erik. And my pleasure, if it all works out without tragedy." He smiled and put the rather large fabric bag on the table in front of him. "By the way, your house in the cellars was destroyed. I rescued some items before the mob claimed their spoils. Am I to assume you will be spending the night, if I offer?"
"It would be too much of an intrusion, Nadir." Erik leaned forward to pull out and examine the items in the bag. A hand held the ties of the bag. Erik met the Daroga's sharp eyes with his.
"Then I am forced to insist." Said Nadir. "And not let you see these until you accept my hospitality."
"Yes, yes. Now, stop playing games." Said Erik, smirking. Nadir went to the door of the study.
"I will inform Darius to set up the guest room. But I am afraid he may just have a heart attack. Speaking of games, how about a game of chess, my friend?"
"It will be my pleasure to beat you yet again, Nadir." Said Erik, as the Persian walked out of the room with a laugh.
Erik turned to the bag before him and opened it up slowly. He pulled out his sword, with the skull on the guard, several drawings of the opera house and some of Christine. Erik looked at the drawings of Christine, holding his breath; a mild pang went through his chest upon seeing her eyes looking at him again. He put them down and pulled out several masks and hairpieces, laying them out and sitting back in his chair. The white mask of his phantom specter lay next to the mask of Red Death and the Don Juan mask. He looked at them with a solemn face for several minutes and got up to look out of the window, towards Capellen.
Relics from my past, masks used to hide myself from everyone. And myself. I do not need them anymore. But I will keep them, as reminders. I have just a little more unfinished business to attend to Elaine, before I return to face you again. I will give the only thing worthwhile from my wretched life; My love and my honesty, and that is all I can do. We must talk soon.