When Raoul awoke the next day in Nadir's home in the village, the sun had already fallen low in the sky. His head hurt, and it took him a couple of seconds to remember why. The unfortunate combination of alcohol, battery, and nearly asphyxiating in a fire...it was all starting to catch up with him.
After soaking in Nadir's large bathtub for an hour, he went downstairs to see if there was anything to eat.
The big house was empty and silent. He must be the only one awake so far. He walked into the dining room, and was immediately surprised to find Erik sitting there quietly, at the head of the table, apparently lost in concentration.
Erik was writing something with a red bottle of ink and a pen, at closer inspection Raoul realised it was musical manuscript paper. What a strange time to be composing. To Erik's right was the morning's newspaper, and a half-finished sandwich.
Erik's deformity was no longer on display. He had evidently procured a new mask and wig from somewhere, which made Raoul feel immensely sorry for him in a way he hadn't before. Raoul would have expected his wigs and masks, if he had more than one, to have been lost in the fire. To have spare prosthetics at another man's house… the extent of Erik's physical and psychological wounds, especially after the confession last night, were more obvious to Raoul than ever.
Erik looked up as Raoul entered the dining room.
"Mr de Chagny." He said pleasantly. "Did you sleep well? That is – considering."
"Surprisingly well, thank you." Raoul said.
There was a beat of silence.
"Christine is still sleeping." Erik said, as if trying to fill it.
"Ah. Of course. No doubt she needs it."
"Yes, the shock." Erik shook his head. "What a horrendous time we have all had. When I woke this morning, I could scarcely believe it had actually happened."
Raoul nodded slowly, having thought much the same not long ago.
"Are you hungry?" He went on. "I'll have one of Nadir's servants bring you something – Anderson." He called out into the hall. "What do you fancy?" He urged Raoul.
A young servant appeared and took Raoul's order of fried eggs.
There was another silence.
"Have you heard word from the hospital?" Raoul said, feeling it was his turn to make an attempt to speak. "Is Antoine ok?"
"Yes." Erik said seriously. "He is stable. The wounds are extensive. But he's expected to make a full recovery. The scarring may not be as bad as previously thought."
"Oh, that is wonderful news."
The meal arrived, and Raoul ate uncomfortably, as Erik continued to scribble his composition.
Raoul flicked through the morning paper. The house fire had made the front page. A photograph of the remnants of the building, collapsed and smoking, stared out at Raoul, gloomily in black and white.
"They still haven't caught those friends of yours." Erik said, nodding at the paper. "But the police believe they have a lead; it is only a matter of time."
"They are notmy friends." Raoul fork clanged loudly against his plate.
He hadn't meant to shout. Erik looked at him sharply, and Raoul braced, half expecting a chiding.
"No, I suppose not." Erik said softly.
Raoul hastily finished his eggs, and hoping Erik hadn't already heard him run a bath this morning, used the excuse of needing to wash to remove himself from the awkward meal. If Erik knew, he said nothing, as Raoul rose from the table and made his excuses.
"Listen, before you go," Erik started, and his mouth opened but it took quite a while before further words emerged. Raoul stood still and stiff in suspense.
"…I was hoping to talk about something with you."
Raoul looked at Erik warily.
"Yes?"
"I think it's safe to say that I owe you … an apology." Erik said softly.
Raoul continued to stare at the masked man.
"Mr de Chagny. I'm… I'm sorry – " Erik started, but then suddenly stopped, as if choked, and the words hung unsaid in the air.
"…about your composition." Erik finished at last, in a rush. "The one that was lost in the fire."
"Oh." Raoul said, blinking. He got the impression that his composition was not where Erik's conversational thread had been initially going. "I had actually forgotten about that ... in all of the chaos – "
"It was good." Erik interrupted him decisively, eagerly. "It really was good."
"It's ok...truly. No one likes to be told a harsh truth but I was grateful for your honesty."
"I wasn't honest." Erik said. "I was brutal. And as the truism goes, the person who is brutally honest often enjoys the brutality as much as the honesty. I'm decidedly guilty of that. You can be a great composer. In fact…"
Erik scooped up the sheets of manuscript paper he had been working on.
"I wanted you to have this."
Raoul looked at Erik's outstretched hand, not comprehending.
"It's your composition." Erik said, regarding Raoul, as if anxious for his reaction. "The one you played for us all, that night. I've spent the afternoon transcribing it out for you. I hated the idea of you…losing it forever."
Raoul took the stack of paper in Erik's outstretched hand. He looked down at the opening notes. It was indeed his own composition.
"You heard me play that composition… once." Raoul said in astonishment.
"Yes."
"You heard me play it…quite badly."
Erik chuckled and considered this. "Your right hand was a little stiff over some of the arpeggiated passages. Other than that, you play quite well."
"You transcribed this from memory?"
"Yes." Erik said again simply. At Raoul's shocked expression, he went on. "My memory is a curse more frequently than it is a blessing. But I'm glad it could be of assistance today."
"Thank you." Raoul said. He was genuinely touched.
"If you need anything, any help…I will be more civil next time. It is possible that I felt…"
Again, Erik appeared to strangle his own sentence and let it trail off. He didn't finish. But rather shrugged, and laughed self-effacingly. "Well, you have known me long enough now to be aware of my numerous flaws."
"I'm really sorry about your home, sir." Raoul said. "If I had just been honest, all of this could have been avoided,"
Erik looked at him. "I'd be quite the hypocrite to judge you for keeping secrets."
Raoul turned to go.
"Raoul." Erik said, and Raoul turned back for a moment to catch his eye, startled by the use of his first name. Erik's next words didn't feel forced or wrenched from him like his half-attempted apologies. They flowed easily like truth.
"I'm glad that she has a friend like you."
The French Rivera
July 1927
Raoul rolled down his window and breathed in the warm summer air as he watched the winding country lanes fly past. It was a year since he had been in this part of the world, but the tall shimmering poplars, the chirping of cicadas and the smell of something sweet on the air all came back to him in a familiar rush. The sound of barking in the distance grew closer as a German Shepard raced towards the vehicle.
"Della is obsessed with the baby." Nadir said from the driver's seat. He had kindly offered to pick Raoul up from the railway station. "You should see her around him – even more over-protective than Erik. Christine likes to joke that I'm his Godfather, and Della is his Godmother!"
Raoul laughed. "How funny, that she was already pregnant, that whole summer. After all the fuss between them."
Nadir smiled. "It's a good lesson. Sometimes you already have the exact thing that you want – you just don't know it yet."
Nadir and Raoul exchanged a smile.
"And the baby is … healthy?" Raoul said. He already knew the answer. It was just good to hear it, again.
"Completely." Nadir said. "He looks just his mother. Angelic. All golden curls and dimples."
"Erik must have been relieved."
"To put it mildly."
Raoul smiled, as the German Shepard raced alongside the motor car, tail wagging.
"How's London?" Nadir asked.
"Rainy." Raoul said. "Every so often I think about packing it all up and coming out to join you all."
Nadir laughed. "Don't say that to Christine. She'll die of excitement."
"It wouldn't be the right time, anyway. With my career finally getting somewhere."
"Yes. Erik has been singing the praises of some of your new work."
Raoul smiled. "Really, he's done enough. I wouldn't have ever got started if he hadn't forced Georgina and Ian to take a look at my first symphony."
"You would have." Nadir insisted. "It might have just taken a bit longer."
A house appeared through the trees, a sleek new design built on the ashes of the original stone chateau.
"The new house!" Raoul said. "I didn't expect it to be so modern."
"Erik's own design." Nadir said. "He laboured over it for months. I really don't think they're ever going back to England."
They rounded another bend, and the house drew closer. Raoul could make out Christine on the doorstep, in a red dress. A small bundle of blankets was in her arms.
As the motor car pulled up at the entrance, Erik appeared behind her and raised a hand in acknowledgement. His mask glistened in the sunshine.
Christine picked up a tiny baby arm and waved it, grinning as Raoul waved back.
Raoul and Nadir exited the car, and Raoul embraced Christine tightly, and made the appropriate fuss over the baby. Nadir was right, he was angelic, he could have climbed right out of a Botticelli painting.
Raoul looked up at Erik then, his stomach twisting slightly. Their strange relationship had improved immensely after the fire, and Raoul was all too aware of the significant hand Erik had had in getting his career off of the ground.
Still, Raoul couldn't help it, the sight of the man brought back familiar nerves. He braced himself as he looked up into the tall man's masked face.
Erik smiled and extended a hand. His eyes were warm.
"It's good to see you, Raoul."