Was there a better friend than Nadir Khan? A patient, humble man who gave so much and got so little in return? A man who could gaze into the black depths of Erik's soul and still stay by his side, support him?

Erik fell into his usual bad behavior after Christine's departure. First came an endless depression, a state where he lay for hours and hours in his bed or on the floor or draped on the sofa if he was feeling particularly adventurous. Ayesha wouldn't let this stand for very long and after a few days would sit on his chest and bat him about the face. She wouldn't be denied fresh sardines, after all. When he finally found the energy to wander about upright, he spent his days obsessing over the little remnants of herself she'd left behind - the cordial glass that had been on her lips, the hair she left on his pillow, the scuff on the piano leg where she'd kicked it.

Next after the depression came a flare up of his sharp, quick temper. His frustration and anger at the world manifested itself as a need to lash out at everyone and everything and the perfect target presented itself in the form of his gossipy maid. Couldn't the little idiot have kept her trap shut and just done the bare minimum cooking and cleaning that he asked of her instead of delivering Christine to his door? Must he do everything himself? He usually retreated to a corner of his house and made himself scarce while she did her business but he felt moved to give her the most severe tongue-lashing the poor woman had ever received in her life. He fired her on the spot but without someone around to make him a decent coq a vin and press his clothes just as he liked, she was back in his employ by the end of the week. Besides, she kept mum about his mask at least. Plus she had three children to feed; what would she do without the wages he paid her? After all of the tourists dried up after summer, she needed the extra work and he was quite a generous employer.

Tearfully, she swore to never breathe another word about his abilities but in another week's time she had brought in her elderly father who had a severe earache, and then a cat with a broken tail, and after that, a neighbor's child who had come down with a persistent and severe cough. He almost considered hanging a shingle - almost.

Finally, Nadir arrived to sweep up the incredible mess Erik had made of himself. Foolish Nadir, who risked his life to preserve Erik's with the caveat that he explore his so-called genius yet all Erik wanted to do was hide in a hole and be done with humanity. For all his sacrifice he lost his position in Persia and now subsisted on a meager pension all while keeping tabs on a cranky disaster of a human being. As a form of thanks, Erik loved to rain down abuse on this saint of a man, kicking and screaming like a brat. All of this made Nadir - foolish, idiotic Nadir - laugh and try harder. The blood of princes truly ran in his veins.

Erik finally wrote a brief letter to him about what had occurred, sparing the details, omitting her name and any incriminating specifics, as a way of explaining his lapse in communication and hopefully preventing him from turning up at his door. Nadir congratulated him, trotted out that tired old yarn that it was better to have loved and lost. Erik would rather have never had anything so severe introduced at all. It was like starving and being fed a single grain of sustenance, then plunging back to starvation.

Erik declined to come to Paris, and denied Nadir a visit to his own home as well. This wasn't altogether uncommon but after a few years without laying eyes on his elusive friend, Nadir felt something was afoot and turned up on Erik's doorstep unannounced. He was just in time to nurse Erik through his latest round of self-destruction, a rather vicious bout of heavy drinking. He marveled over all of the music Erik had been creating and fought with him over submitting it somewhere to have it performed. For this gentle suggestion, Erik practically bit the man's head off. The fool just laughed in the face of Erik's rage and remained stubbornly by his side until he regained his health. Couldn't this idiot let him die in peace?
After suffering this intruder for over a year, Erik was finally able to boot him out and reclaim his privacy, but only after promising to come visit soon. He was got away with hiding out in his home for almost another year but Nadir insisted, coming up with a very strange demand rather suddenly - that Erik must come celebrate his birthday. They hadn't made a big deal about birthdays before...what was Nadir playing at? Still...it had been a while since he had been out, and he did miss the opera, even with that damnable Carlotta swanning about and screeching like a trampled goose. Erik accepted the invitation to stop by for a week, packed up Ayesha in her basket, and arrived at his friend's Parisian flat in the dead of night.

On Nadir's so-called birthday, Erik presented him with a very fine bottle of wine and a rare edition of a book he enjoyed. He gamely allowed Nadir to drag him along to the opera, going by the dark side streets and being let in the back door by his friend at the opera. Erik's intuition was flaring up again as he hung his coat on the peg in their box and settled into the seat that was most in shadows.

"What are they putting on these days, Khan?" Erik asked, looking around for program. Nadir sat next to him, brimming with a nervous energy that made Erik wary. There was a strange smile on his lips as he handed Erik the program. Erik narrowed his eyes and peered at the cover.

The name of the performance was the same name as the piece he had been working on.

Unable to believe it could possibly be his composition, he flipped to the inside of the playbook and scanned the details. There were all of his works' titles, attributed to an "anonymous composer".

"You great fucking booby!" Erik screamed in a fit of rage as he thwacked his friend with the program so hard across the face that the man's astrakhan cap went flying over the balcony.

"My hat -!" Nadir rubbed his cheek and looked out over the side of the railing to see what fate had befallen his cap. The people below were scandalized, murmuring about the unexpected projectile and the offensive language raining down from the box seats. Erik snatched Nadir up by the lapels and dragged him into the back area of the box. Nadir was barely able to keep his toes on the carpet and could feel the heat from the burning fury of those yellow eyes in the dark.

"What did you do? Answer me! What did you do?!"

"Come on, man - compose yourself! They already think I'm an eccentric and bothersome old foreigner; if you behave so rudely they might never let me back!"

"I allow you into my home and this is how you repay my hospitality? By stealing my compositions? This work was never meant to see the light of day!"

"Erik - you know I treasure your genius, and I'm disappointed you never do anything with it - "

"And that is my fucking right!"

Nadir felt spittle hit his face but he pressed on. "It is your right but it's such an immense shame! Look - your name isn't on the program, nobody knows anything about you...You can hide in the darkness and no one will know one way or another. Besides - I went through a lot of trouble to get the Palais Garnier to put this on! And - and - it's my birthday!"

"You might be one of the lucky few who exit this miserable life on the same day of their birth!"

There was a loud knock on the door. Erik dropped Nadir and quickly scurried into the shadows.

"We might be thrown out because of your rude behavior, you damnable fiend!" Nadir scolded him bravely now that he wasn't in his grasp. Erik grumbled a half-hearted death threat and stayed hidden. Nadir opened the door and was rather relieved to see that it was his friend, Madame Giry, the ballet mistress.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, handing Nadir his cap back.

"My friend here is making a fuss," Nadir said, replacing his cap.

Madame Giry stared down the two blazing pinpoints in the dark. "The composer, correct?"

"That's right."

Erik snarled and ripped a program in half in an act of muted fury.

"He's causing a commotion. The patrons are complaining. The managers might hear that there's a problem and come sniffing around. You could lose your box," she said.

"That's what I told him!"

"How incredibly thoughtless it would be if your friend's outburst cost you your box, Nadir."

"Very thoughtless indeed." Nadir nodded.

Madame Giry's stony gaze didn't waver. "My advice to your friend is to sit the fuck down and be quiet or get the fuck out of the building."

Erik mumbled a few more vows of vengeance and fierce protestations but eventually, faced with these two immovable forces, he acquiesced and meandered back to his seat, angrily crossing his arms and legs like a petulant child.

"Perhaps I'll bring you up some champagne to lighten the mood?" She asked, her tone more relaxed.

"That would be splendid, dear!"

"And a new program?"

"We would so appreciate that!"

Madame Giry nodded and as she was half out the door, Erik could hear Nadir whispering something, almost using a sing-songy tone...and did he give her a peck on the lips? Erik thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye but could barely focus. The rage within him was too strong to concentrate on anything other than how much he hated his dear friend for pulling such an insane prank on him.

"You know, this was an immense undertaking...It took me years to put together this performance," Nadir said, sitting next to Erik.

"I loathe you from the very depths of my being."

"You know how those idiotic managers always play it so safe because they're terrified to rattle their ancient customers…"

Erik grumbled. He did so despise those two fools who ran the theater! Often after a particularly grating performance, Nadir and Erik would write a biting review and pay to run it as an announcement in the paper without a name attached to it. They would wait for news from Madame Giry, who would report back about how their missive sent the two idiots into fits, and have a hearty laugh.

"Well, I took copies of your composition to Antoinette who tried to get them to accept a modern work and they were quite stubborn until she brought it to the attention of one of the big patrons of the theater, the de Chagnys…"

Erik felt as if he received a jolt of electricity but made no move to betray his surprise at hearing that name again. "What…?"

"Do you remember many years ago when I told you there was that singer who appeared and disappeared in just a season or two? Well she married the patron of the theater, the Vicomte de Chagny. He just continues in his older brother's footsteps in supporting the theater but because she came from some sort of musical background, she actually takes an interest in the productions. Once Antoinette got her to rally around your work, the managers began to soften. What got them to agree, I think, was when they told Andre and Firmin that the seats would be packed if they played a mystery concert for some anonymous composer. And they were right - look at them all down there! Every seat sold!"

Erik felt paralyzed; his hands remained clenched on his knees. Did she know? Was she here? The champagne and an unsullied program appeared and he accepted both without protestation.

"You know…" Nadir continued. "It was such a shame she didn't pursue a career but I don't blame her...She appeared out of seemingly nowhere...I think that one time Carlotta got terribly ill, this girl came up as a last minute replacement."

That one time Carlotta got ill…

Erik remembered being particularly vexed by Carlotta's antics one evening, and, in a particularly nasty mood, he sent her a box of chocolates laced with a little flavorless tincture sure to make her sick. Was he responsible, in a strange, roundabout way, for Christine taking the stage? And, in that same vein, for her little fellow seeing her and taking her from the opera?

Another wretched thought came to mind suddenly and burning anger welled up in his chest again.

"Carlotta - ! This piece is not for Carlotta to sing!"

"That's another great thing! She won't be singing tonight at all!"

"What?"

"No - the vicomtesse said she would return to the stage to perform this piece herself, especially after Carlotta demeaned the work. As you can imagine, that was just the cherry on top for Andre and Firmin. Oh, if you could imagine how angry it made that old foghorn! She was ranting and raving, so I heard! She's quite jealous of madame de Chagny but they calmed her down by agreeing it would be a one time thing...We'll see, though...You know, the vicomtesse was quite taken by this piece. She kept asking me if I knew the composer but I said it had come to me from a roundabout way. I'm certain if you should seek a meeting after the performance, I believe she would be quite discrete and understanding of your need for privacy..."

Erik couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. To hear her golden voice performing his own music...He couldn't decide if he wanted to die immediately or live in this moment forever.

"I shouldn't have given you this champagne…" Nadir wrestled the glass out of Erik's grasp after watching him suck down a few glasses in rapid succession.

Momentarily, the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, and the orchestra began to play. Erik usually had some pissy commentary about the bassoon player whom he had insisted for years that he needed to be fired for years for being tone deaf or that one percussionist who was always a half beat behind but he had no such words this time.

Then - she appeared, and with her, his intense desires. Clothed in an incredible gown, she walked the stage like a queen, her voice bringing his music to life. She was so radiant, she exuded such profound emotion that Erik struggled to draw breath. Although she had thoroughly enchanted every soul in every seat, he could feel that this performance wasn't meant for anyone but two people. He seemed to swim in this moment eternally, tethered to her, anchored to her voice.

When it was over, there was a moment went the world seemed suspended in time. And then, with one clamorous roar, every member of the audience leapt to their feet, applauding.

"Look! Look at that, old man - that's all for you!" Nadir shook Erik's shoulder as he rose to his feet, joining in the applause. Erik didn't give a damn for any scrap of approval from the entire human race and the cheers and applause didn't move him in the least. He was fixated on Christine, bowing and performing endless curtsies as the cries of adulation continued. Those self-righteous prigs, Andre and Firmin, dared to take the stage next to her, drinking in the celebration of a performance they had fought tooth and nail against. They brought Christine two immense bunches of roses but her arms were already laden with so many bouquets, she was barely visible above the flowers.

Nadir leaned over and said, "...The offer stands. Would you like to meet the star, your patron, the vicomtesse?"

Erik stood slowly. In a moment of madness, he seriously considered stealing away to her dressing room, speaking to her again, reigniting the desire he had fought so hard to suppress just for want of spending another second in her presence.

Just as he was about to agree, her little husband came rushing onto the stage, carrying yet another handful of roses. He was shockingly handsome, blonde with a weak little mustache that he must've acquired in his youth and decided to cling to even though it was embarrassing in a man of his age. Good looks and an overflowing wallet went far towards excusing such ridiculous styles, Erik surmised. He wanted to hate him, and in fits of jealousy had imagined him as a loathsome, careless oaf, but the way he worried over her and rushed to gently support her as she practically swooned, Erik found he couldn't despise him.

The vicomte was accompanied by a little dark haired boy of perhaps five - her child. Apparently, they had gotten over the barrier that had prevented them from conceiving. The boy pitched himself into Christine's skirts, joy plainly on his face. His eyes were filled with adoration for his extraordinary mother, and Christine leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

The sudden need to see her, speak to her again, faded as he watched the happy family on the stage. There was nothing more to say now. Their two spirits had met and mended in this moment but that's all it was - a moment.

Christine's eyes searched the seats as if hoping to see him there, but she was growing weak from her exertion. She began to waver on her feet and leaned on her husband for support.

The divine creature seemed as if she had given up her very soul this night. No emperor ever received so fine a gift. Erik wept.