Saving Grace

Nadir Khan stepped out of the carriage and glanced up and down the street. It was deserted. Darius, who'd been sitting by the coachman, had already opened the front door of the building. Nadir turned around and offered his hand to the other passenger. He really didn't expect his friend, who usually avoided physical contact, to take it. He was utterly surprised when a bony hand grasped his and used Nadir's strength as support to descend the two steps.

Once in the street, Erik released Nadir's hand and haltingly crossed the distance to the door by himself but he miscalculated the height of the threshold and stumbled upon it. He had to grasp the doorjamb to stop his fall. Nadir hurried to Erik's side and made him put his arm around his shoulders. He surrounded Erik's waist with his arm and helped him cross the dimly lit foyer. Erik's steps were too slow, too uncertain, and Nadir thought he should have insisted in having Erik stay longer at the apartment in the Rue de Rivoli. Erik wouldn't be able to cope by himself yet, no matter what he stubbornly maintained. When they reached the stairs, Erik was already breathing heavily.

"The apartment is on the third floor, my friend," Nadir explained. Erik nodded and grasped the banister with his free hand. They slowly started to climb.

On the first landing, Nadir stopped.

"I think we should take a break. We've got three floors to go."

"Really, Daroga, my wounds did not affect my brain. . . I can still count by myself," Erik complained as he leant upon the banister and massaged his shoulder in what had by then become a reflex movement.

Nadir was relieved to listen to his light tone, but he remembered the sight of Erik, lying on the farthest shore of the underground lake, half of his body underwater and his shirt stained with blood, and he shuddered. That memory still haunted him although he'd seen much worse in his days as the Daroga of Mazanderan.

"I was only saying that in behalf of the concierge," he explained, nodding towards the light that came from the crack of the door in the foyer. "I think it would be enlightening for her to listen to us speak Farsi."

"And why is that so?" Erik's voice sounded faintly bemused.

"I told her you were my brother, that you were recovering from a long standing illness you'd acquired back home. She'll let you be," Nadir explained with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "There's nothing like a foreign, unknown disease to keep prying eyes at a distance."

Erik detected the slight bitterness in Nadir's voice. And then, the full extent of Nadir's words hit him. The Daroga had publicly claimed to be his brother. The brother of an infidel, an underdog, a murderer. Erik took a deep, shuddering breath.

"To make her listen to us. . . Such an innocent trick. I thought the Daroga of Mazanderan knew better than that," he said when he had recovered his voice.

"Well, if you come across something better do tell me," Nadir growled as he directed Erik to the next step.

Darius opened the door of the apartment, and Nadir helped Erik to cross the foyer and the sitting room and lowered him on the couch. He straightened his back and had a look around. Darius had already lit the lamps on the mantle and was drawing the curtains. Erik reclined his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"I think we should put you to bed," prodded Nadir, gently.

Erik had been out of bed and limping around the apartment in the Rue de Rivoli for a week now, but this was his first trip outside, and it had evidently exhausted him. Erik's hand waved dismissively.

"I'll do it later," he whispered. And after a beat: "Would you like something to drink?"

Nadir had to smile. Not two minutes after entering his new quarters, Erik was already playing the perfect host. Perhaps the change would do him good, after all.

"Tea," answered Nadir, and motioned Darius to make it. "Would you prefer something stronger? Sherry? Cognac, perhaps?"

Erik shook his head feebly, eyes still closed.

"Tea is fine."

Nadir sat on one of the armchairs, in front of the fireplace. Maybe it was time to add another log to the fire which Darius had lit earlier that evening. He dismissed the idea, after casting a look at Erik's form on the couch. Nadir was aware of how keen were Erik's ears. Any movement Nadir made would disturb him, and he seemed at the verge of sleep. Nadir contented himself with watching the low flames. After a while, he sensed a difference in the room and lifted his eyes to find Erik staring at him.

"Nice rooms," said Erik. "Thanks for the carpet."

Nadir nodded in surprise. He hadn't expected such a direct expression of gratitude, though he knew Erik would appreciate the carpets he'd brought from the Rue de Rivoli to cover the wooden floor. There was another one (his best) covering the floor in Erik's room as well.

"The… dining room is right behind you," he explained. "And your room is the one next to it, down the hall. The kitchen is at the back."

"You can give me the grand tour tomorrow," said Erik with a lopsided smile. Then he faltered. "Are you…?"

It pained Nadir to see Erik's stark vulnerability. The affair with Christine Daaé, the shattering of his house, the loss of his music, and of the bizarre but independent life he had managed to make for himself underneath the Opera had truly broken him.

"Would two o'clock be convenient for you, my friend?"

"Anytime, Daroga."

The fact that Erik's words didn't convey a single note of irony only made Nadir more distraught. Luckily, Darius chose that moment to appear with a tray and two cups of tea. The manservant squeezed some lemon in Erik's cup and stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar before handing it to him. Nadir watched with a smile as Erik had a sip of tea and grimaced. In the past, he would have never endured a cup of tea with so much sugar, but coming from Darius, he somehow accepted it.

It amused Nadir to see the change that had occurred in Darius pertaining Erik, almost as much as it amused him to see Erik accepting Darius' care. From feeling a deep fear and hatred for the man he'd considered to be a demon, Darius had gone to consider as one of his personal duties to make Erik regain his health.

Nadir was not sure what had caused the change. Maybe finding the evil spirit lying helplessly on the bank of the lake had done it; maybe it had been Erik's courage in enduring the pain while they extracted the bullets from his thigh and left shoulder, or maybe the stubbornness with which he braved the pneumonia that followed had prompted a new respect in Darius. Anyway, Nadir could only rejoice at the change, since Darius would watch over what Erik ate now that he would start living on his own again. And now that he thought about eating. . .

"It would be nice if you invited me to lunch to celebrate your new lodgings, my friend. How about tomorrow?"

Erik huffed.

"Don't tempt your luck, Daroga."

There was a brief silence. Nadir had the last sip of his tea and left the cup on the tray.

"I'll be here at two o'clock, then. Good night, Erik."

Nadir thought it best to leave unsaid whether he'd come for lunch or not. He was sure Erik would not eat much in the morning, anyway. It would be better to make sure he had something to eat in the afternoon. He paused in the doorway for a moment, considering whether it would be fruitful to try and get Erik to bed right away. He would spend the night on the couch if left by himself.

"Good night, Daroga," came Erik's voice, with a slight undertone of threat.

Nadir stepped out to the hall. Darius was coming with a blanket and a pillow in his hands. The manservant left both tings beside Erik, added a couple of logs to the fire and collected the tray. Nadir nodded at him when he emerged from the room. At least Erik wouldn't freeze if he spent the night on the couch, thought Nadir, as he made his way out of the apartment.