Disclaimer: see Ch. 1. Many apologies for the long delay—I've been off painting in London and starving artists have no money for internet cafes.

O.G.'s regards to MindGame, All Apologies, fiducia, fell4adeadguy, monroe-mary, aries-chica56, Sue Raven, Pickledishkiller, Kytten, The Scorpion, Enchanting Angel, and x (when not L). Much thanks, everyone!

Part Five: Inside Darkness

Nadir stood in stunned silence for several moments after Erik finished speaking, then dropped his gaze and seemed to close in on himself behind a wall of distance that Erik had seen him employ during his time as the Shah's chief of police in Mazanderan. "You are certain?"

Erik's hands fisted in the thick folds of his cloak and he whirled to face the lake once more. "Yes." He whispered. He was aware of the return of that piercing stare, but was far too focused on maintaining his precarious grip on both grief and heartbreak to care. Let it end, please let this end. How was it possible to endure such pain? Physical pain was nothing to this…

"Truly?" The daroga continued quietly.

"Yes." Erik managed to suppress the sobs rising in his throat long enough to answer firmly.

"Very well, Erik, I will be there."

"Thank you."

Silence. A disbelieving silence that contained shock, relief, and… sadness? No. Impossible. Not after everything that had happened. Suddenly, all he wanted was to run, to flee far from eyes that were calling back sickening, unending memories of other eyes, of appalled stares and the screams that were never far behind…

"Erik…"

He forced himself to breathe deeply, calmly, and turned once more to face Nadir. The daroga took a hesitant step forward, started to raise a hand, and then seemed to think the better of it. The desperate need to run coalesced into icy fury at this show of pity. His jaw clenched. Pity! No. Not now, not ever! He spun on his heel back towards the lake and sprang into the boat without another word.

"Wait! Erik!"

He did not even look over his shoulder as he poled away from the shore. "Tomorrow, daroga. And mind that you are not late."

Nadir stood looking into the darkness for a long time, the damp, pervasive chill of the cellars soaking into complaining joints and bones that had never really adjusted from the warmth of Mazanderan. Incredulity spun through his mind in step with anger, but as the cold seeped into his bones, so did a certainty of what must have happened to Erik since the evening in the torture chamber. Finally he bent and retrieved his lantern. He had seen many things in Erik during the course of the events regarding Christine Daaé, elation, anger, madness, and obsession, but this was the first time he'd ever seen total despair in those golden eyes. Despair, resignation, and a grief that Nadir knew intimately. After all, he'd seen it in the mirror every day since Rookheeya had died.

His heart sank as he returned to the world above the cellars, for he knew only too well what loss was like. And despite everything, it was imminent loss that he saw in Erik's eyes. Nadir's senses had not dimmed in the years since Persia, nor had his powers of observation and analysis, and he could reach only once conclusion: Erik truly loved Christine Daaé.

On the Rue Scribe, Nadir paused and set the lantern down just inside the gate before struggling past the heavy iron bars and down the lane into the evening. Even as he made a mental note to tell Erik that the hinges needed oiling, he wondered how he would ever endure what tomorrow would hold, for despite what his conscience and innate sense of justice demanded, the daroga was still torn. For Christine Daaé's sake this would be all for the best, that was undeniable.

Yet as Nadir made his way to the de Chagny residence, he had the horrible sense of wielding the knife at a mercy killing. The shadow of grief in Erik's eyes would become a reality. Perhaps it was sadly fortunate that Erik's health was failing. The body could not survive without the heart, Nadir knew, and he'd seen cracks spiderwebbing through a heart that would shortly shatter.

Inside the house on the lake, Erik sat before the fire, his head in his hands. There was a nearly imperceptible shift of air, the tiny sound of bare feet on a carpet, and he looked up. Two pairs of tear-filled eyes met.

"I—I thought you'd left. That is… I…" Christine's voice was as pale as her face and she swayed on her feet.

Erik caught her as she fell.