CHAPTER SEVEN

Erik drummed his fingers against the bedroom door. Every ounce of him itched to turn the brass doorknob and make a clean escape. To big Nadir farewell. To turn a second doorknob and stumble into the darkness that had always provided him some semblance of a home.

But it wasn't going to be so easy tonight. For the first time in a long time, there were questions that he had to answer. The Phantom had long managed to circumvent such trivialities by penning cryptic letters, by executing his role down to every fearsome detail. People had questions about the ghost, certainly, but never had there been a true face to direct those questions towards. Tonight, the Phantom was not so lucky. Beneath the porcelain mask, his every ounce of flesh felt terribly mortal.

"I have many things to say to you, monsieur," Aurora said, sitting at the foot of her bed. Her wounded right knee was visible through a slit in her skirts, and Erik mused that there was something rather profound about the way the purple bruise stood out against the cream of her skin.

"It is in your best interest that you keep those things brief and few, mademoiselle," he countered, crossing his arms against his chest, "I do not plan on spending the rest of my hours here sating your every whim and answering your every question."

The woman let out a humorless chuckle, and stood abruptly to reposition herself by the window.

"Then answer me just this one. Must you do that all the time?" she asked tiredly, "Is it really so difficult for you to be civil? I do not wish for you to be so inconvenienced by me, monsieur. Perhaps you need to be reminded that I did not ask for any of this in the first place!"

Erik closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He attempted to recall a few distant lessons in civility, and found that he could not do so. Instead, he pursed his misshapen lips and braced himself for another onslaught of the woman's berating.

"I only wanted to thank you for what you did for me that night." She cleared her throat. "I do not believe that I ever got the chance to do so, given both our... frames of mind, but I would like you to know that I am grateful for your assistance and your hospitality."

Erik found himself in a rare state ― speechless. He swallowed hard to wet his dry throat, and searched the woman's eyes for any traces of insincerity.

"You needn't mention it," he said quietly, as he fixed his gaze upon the floor. "Is that all?"

"Yes," Aurora replied quickly, "Yes. That is all I had to say."

"Very well." Erik turned on his heel and braced his hand above the brass doorknob.

"Wait!"

The man's frame tensed once again. Of course there is something else, he thought bitterly. Those words are far too sweet!

"I am listening."

Aurora cleared her throat again, and through the corner of his eye, Erik could spot her wringing her hands against one another.

"I heard what you and Monsieur Khan were speaking about earlier and I wanted to know who..." She trailed off, apprehensive.

Erik took a deep breath. "Say it."

"It's just that you spoke of her so often―"

"SAY IT!"

Erik whirled around, bellowing the words with such a ferocity that it nearly made Aurora jump. Her nostrils flared with disdain for his tone, and she dug her toes into the carpet.

"Who is Christine?"

The man let himself out, and slammed the door behind him.

"Aurora?"

Nadir tapped on the door with a single knuckle, balancing a wicker tray on his other palm. He cast a sidelong glance at the timepiece in the sitting room, noting with a touch of annoyance that Erik had been gone for over two hours. That man will be the end of me, he thought, pressing his eyes shut to enjoy a well-deserved moment of stillness. The steaming dishes that he had set upon the tray burned his skin through the wicker, breaking him from his reverie.

"Aurora, only if you feel up to it, perhaps you would like to join me―"

The door opened before he could finish, and a rosy-cheeked woman poked her head out of the bedroom to greet him. While her fingers finished off a thick plait that fell well below her shoulder, she curled her lips into a warm smile at the sight of Nadir's thoughtfully prepared meal.

"I would love to join you," she said, "I know they're doctor's orders, but if I rest any longer, I worry that you will have a mad woman on your hands."

Nadir chuckled. With a nod, he made his way towards the dining table and set a plate of food on each place mat. Steam rose from roasted tomatoes which sat elegantly on their plates, mingling with the scent of a delicious green tea. Aurora settled into a chair at his table, breathing in the foreign aromas, and watched the man finish his work in his kitchen. She waited for him to bring out a third plate, and found herself annoyed by her own naivete when it never came.

"Erik will not be joining us for dinner," she stated simply.

"I'm afraid not," Nadir replied.

"He will not be returning at all, then?"

Nadir quirked an eyebrow and wagged a finger playfully at the woman. "I never said that, now, did I?" He paused for a moment to take the opposite seat. "Shall we eat, mademoiselle? Erik has never had much regard for a proper schedule, but I for one, am famished." His warm smile made a reappearance, and it stole away Aurora's sour face.

"I am so sorry to have slept through all of your hard work," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "Is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness?"

"Don't be sorry for a moment," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You seem quite well and that is the best reward I could have asked for." Aurora was comforted by the man's even, gentle tone. "But if you would like to repay me," he continued, "Promise me that we will have no leftovers."

They shared the sort of laugh that two old friends might share, and after one bite, Aurora did not need to be asked again to clear her plate.

After their short, quiet dinner, Aurora let out a deep breath and draped her utensils across the mouth of her bowl. She cursed inwardly for being such a glutton ― and before company, no less! ― but for the life of her, couldn't recall having ever eaten a meal even half as delicious as the one she had devoured.

"I don't believe I ever thanked you for all that you have done for me, mons―Nadir. But I'm afraid that I am finding it difficult to breathe at this moment and that you may have to wait a little longer."

Nadir was alarmed. His dark brown eyes widened, carving out the creases that age had painted around them.

"Are you feeling unwell again, mademoiselle? A bit light-headed, too warm perhaps―"

"A bit rotund, monsieur," she interrupted with a grin. She patted her belly lightly. "I fear that you have been far too good to me. That was a meal fit for a queen!"

"You are very kind," Nadir replied, scooping up her dish into his own before she could protest. "Could the queen perhaps find space for another kettle of tea?"

Aurora peered down at her belly, and hummed in thought.

"I think she has a bit of space right... here."

Nadir chuckled and reached for a silver canister.

The house was absolutely marvelous ― but only if one had the sense to take a close enough look at it. As Nadir led her away from the dining table and towards his small sitting room, Aurora realized that she had been far too absorbed by her own thoughts to thoroughly take in her surroundings. What she had missed, she decided, just so happened to be absolutely exquisite.

The man appeared to have an appreciation for simplistic beauty, an observation that both comforted Aurora and plagued her with a sense of loneliness on his behalf. The flat was unmistakably that of a single man, and yet bore no resemblance to Erik's home. While Erik seemed to revel in excess, with shelves and shelves of useless artifacts buried in dust and lining his decrepit walls, Nadir had only a maroon divan perched up against a creamy wall with two throw pillows resting upon it. A large ottoman, decorated with gold tassels and upholstered with fabric the color of burned sugar stood across from the divan, separated by a low, glass-topped coffee table with dark mahogany legs. There was a comfort to be found in the man's modest but full bookshelf ― something actually worth splurging on, in Aurora's humble opinion ― and especially in the painting of a woman that hung above it. A pair of incredibly beautiful brown eyes, large and lined with a generous amount of kohl, peered up shyly from beneath thick, dark eyelashes and a heavy, but elegantly shaped eyebrows. A large gold stud ornamented the woman's delicate nose. Aurora was charmed by the mischief that played on the woman's plump lips, the glow that seemed to emanate from her flushed cheeks. A green shawl covered her dark, curly hair and settled around her small shoulders, while lower still, her long, thin fingers caressed a pink bundle in her arms.

"My wife and son," Nadir said fondly, gesturing to the painting. Aurora turned towards him sheepishly. "Don't worry," he said, "You are not the only one who finds herself utterly enchanted by it."

"There's just something about it..." Aurora started, "I don't know how to explain it. They're both very beautiful. Did you paint it all by yourself?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing of the sort," Nadir replied, trying to suppress a chuckle. "I didn't trust myself to get every detail just right." His lips curled into a small, wistful smile, and Aurora looked away for fear of intruding upon the man in a moment of private admiration. Clearing his throat in visible embarrassment, he shook his head. "I apologize. Ten years it has hung here and still the sight of them takes my breath away."

"They're still... in Persia?" she asked.

"Buried in Persia, yes." Abruptly, he tore his eyes away from the painting, turning to take a seat on the ottoman across from Aurora.

"Oh, Nadir, I'm so sorry." Instinctively, she touched his hand and gave him a sympathetic smile. He nodded in quiet appreciation and she leaned back against a throw pillow.

"I know what it feels like," she continued in a voice so quiet that Nadir was momentarily unsure whether she even wanted to be heard. "It's as though you don't ever feel like you can quite be whole again." She knit her brows together and the glossy sheen that formed over her eyes made Nadir feel strangely detached from her, as though he had lost her forever to an ocean of her own abstractness. He wondered briefly about the woman's past, realizing that he knew almost nothing about her, save for the fact that Erik had rescued her from one of the grittier alleys of the city only to steal her away for himself. Who had she lost? Who were the people she spoke of now, the ones that had damned her to eternal incompletion?

"May I ask you something, Nadir?"

Her eyes were suddenly bright, and she was broken from her reverie. Nadir brought his hand to his chin and stroked it ― a gesture of apprehension that made him grateful for Erik's absence. Aurora lifted the small brass tea kettle, and refilled the man's empty cup. The glow of an ornately carved lamp beside them illuminated the man's tufts of graying hair. Aurora found that if she focused enough, stole enough glances when he wasn't looking, that she could see a sorrow betrayed by his kind eyes and upturned lips ― a profound exhaustion beneath the wrinkles in his skin.

"Of course," he said.

Aurora set her cup down before her. "I don't understand him." She paused to chuckle over the fact that she hadn't quite managed to ask a proper question. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is ― what happened to him? To Erik, I mean? Why is he the way he is? I find that I cannot recall a single other person who has infuriated me as much as he has, and yet has left me with such burning curiosity," ― Nadir quirked his brow at that word― "Let alone a person whose last name I do not even know!"

With a tight, cautious smile, he looked down into his tea.

"Perhaps these questions of yours are better left answered by Erik himself," he replied.

Disappointed, Aurora fixed her gaze on an indistinguishable spot on the floor. "If he ever decides to come back," she spat. Nadir watched in amusement as the woman's cheeks flushed suddenly with anger.

"I found him in Russia," he started quietly, "In Bolkhov, I believe, or at least something to that effect. My task to fetch him was one assigned to me by the shah," he explained, spreading his hands before him.

"He mentioned having spent some time in Persia," Aurora recounted.

Nadir's eyebrows lifted. "Did he? Well, he was unbearable to travel with, Aurora - I don't suppose he told you that. The man made me certain that with every passing step, I was getting closer and closer to my execution. The shah would never tolerate my returning to him empty handed. Erik would vanish throughout our journey back to Mazandaran, you see. For hours at a time, no less! He... he was like a ghost, Aurora. A wretched, careless ghost. I never inquired after his whereabouts, though privately I always wondered. But, you know..." He drained the last drop of tea and set his cup down beside Aurora's. "He always did return."

"I take it you've known him for a long time."

"I suppose you could say that ― I have walked this earth for longer than I care to admit."

Aurora took a deep breath, and fumbled with her fingers.

"What is it that he fears so much?" she asked.

Nadir smiled politely, and leaned forward to collect their saucers and cups.

"It is not my liberty to say," he said. The dishes rattled in his thin, worn hands.

"I've already seen his face, monsieur."

His fingers stilled, and the dishes were silenced.

"Then surely you already have the answer to your question, mademoiselle."

"Monsieur," Aurora tried again, "Please."

Nadir lowered the dishes into the sink, and leaned forward against the kitchen counter.

"Perhaps you will allow me to ask you something first."

"Anything."

"Why does he matter to you, Aurora? Under my roof you are a free woman, free to come and go as you please, and yet in his absence, never once did you voice a desire to leave. You wish to stay. You wish to see him return. You mentioned earlier that he arouses your curiosity, and forgive me mademoiselle for being so thick, but I do not understand it. He doesn't frighten you? He doesn't anger you? What allows you to see past his glaring peculiarities and be merely intrigued?"

Aurora smiled a small, polite smile, and met Nadir's strong gaze.

"He terrifies me, Nadir. He infuriates me. And you are absolutely correct ― I do wish to stay. I do wish to see him return. And that shouldn't make any sense at all. But you see monsieur, what terrifies me is how incredibly familiar he seems. What angers me is the way he knows how to counter my every word. You asked me why he matters to me, how I can look beyond the mask and the temper long enough to be intrigued... It is simply because he reminds me of somebody I once knew, and I never for a moment dared to think that I would ever encounter such a soul for a second time."

A long pause followed, during which Nadir took a long, deep breath.

"I will tell you what you wish to know," he said finally. "But first, I have a request of my own. Tell me a little about yourself. It's just that I know so little about you..."

The door creaked open just as the clock's twelfth chime echoed through the house. After he and Aurora had emptied the last kettle of tea, Nadir had draped himself across the length of the divan while his guest retired to her room for a proper full night's rest. His head was perched upon a throw pillow, and at the other length of him, his legs were crossed elegantly over one another. Despite his deep slumber, he stirred easily at the sound of the intruder ― a habit from a life lived long ago ― blinking back the fatigue that weighed down his eyelids.

"Erik? Erik, is that you?"

A grunt answered him through the darkness, followed by the loud swish! of an overcoat.

"It's quite late, even by your standards, wouldn't you agree?" Nadir let out a languid chuckle, and settled himself back against the divan, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, Erik?"

"Leave me alone, Nadir."

"Suit yourself. I was simply under the impression that you would want to hear of what went on in your absence. The meal that your guest and I shared, the topics of our conversation, perhaps. But you are right. It is too late for such idle chatter..."

From the other side of the room, Erik buried his unmasked face in his hands, and rubbed his throbbing temples. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself and stifle his irritation. Nadir's words were a baited hook, and despite knowing so, Erik found himself being reeled in.

"What did you tell her about me?" he said tiredly. He knew very well that Nadir did not keep alcohol around the house as a rule, and this detail only served to intensify Erik's sudden desire for a fine brandy. When Nadir did not reply, he clenched his teeth and tried once more, drawing out each word impatiently. "What―did―you―tell―her, Nadir?"

"Only what I knew you would allow, old friend." The older man cleared his throat. "But that wasn't what I was referring to. It was rather what she told me that I suspect would be of interest to you."

Erik lifted his head ever so slightly. "What did she tell you?" he asked quietly, controlling his voice carefully so that he did not betray his burning curiosity.

Nadir yawned loudly.

"Oh, I don't know," he mumbled, "It's so late, I can hardly remember a word she said."

Nadir spent his last waking moment picturing his old friend's furious expression, pleased by the knowledge that his own mischievous smile was thoroughly masked by the darkness of the night.