Passionate Friendship

Ok, so I'm not a yaoi girl, but I give this humble offering as a gift to a friend who understands the importance of being elitist bitches. Here's to you JustHuddy! And yes, it's Leroux based.
I make no profit from this, Gaston Leroux owns all things Phantom of the Opera, including Erik, the Persian, and Darius.

Slash. Ok, so not in this chappie. But, yeah, the next one.


It had been almost a full week since that horrible night! A full week and despite my best efforts I had been able to learn nothing of what had become of the vicomte de Chagny or of Christine Daae. The best I had been able to do was ascertain that count Philippe was dead, found drowned in the underground lake. It was ruled accidental.
Although my ordeal in Erik's torture chamber had been horrible, and I was sure that I was going to die that terrible evening, my strength returned to me quickly enough that I was able to go the Opera and attempt to contact Erik myself. I did not bother speaking to anyone, the fools were so blind and beside themselves in frenzy over the spectacular dissapearance of Mlle Daae that they would have been of absolutely no help to me. I did not dare try the entrance through the third cellar again. I knew what doom lay through that path! So I stood on the shores of the lake, shouting like a madman, throwing stones into the black water in the hopes that the ripples would trigger whatever device Erik had rigged to alert him of unwanted visitors and draw him out that I might question him face to face.
But it was all to no avail. The only response I had gotten had been the dull splash of the stones and the opressive darkness that choked those lower reaches of the grand building with an unshakable sense of dread. Either he could not hear me, holed up in his fortress, or he was simply ignoring my presence, too infatuated with his new diversion of pretending that Christine Daae would truly be his willing bride to give a damn about the only man who had ever shown him a kindness in his wretched life!
Sick at heart I had finally abandoned all hope and trudged home, a horrible dilema weighing on my heart. It had finally come down to that choice which I had always known I must eventually make: to divulge everything I knew to the police and leave Erik to the mercy of the mob, or to spare him once more at the dear cost of several human lives.
I suppose I should explain why I should even have the slightest hesitation about my decision. Any normal man would turn such a dangerous lunitic over without a second thought. But, unfortunately, it was not so easy for me. I had spoken very truly when I told the young vicomte that I did not hate Erik. No, quite the reverse.

When I had first met Erik--it seems like a lifetime ago now!--we were both young men. He, a talented young performer, barely twenty, and myself not much older, a man working to distinguish himself in the shah's personal police force. Erik immediately caught my attention, not only as a rather difficult force to be reckoned with, but also as a personal interest.
You see I have never been fond of young ladies in a way a man should be. My sense of appreciation has always favoured the more masculine form. Of course, I do not advertise this as I had a very promising career to think of and such urges were deeply and viciously discouraged, but we are what we are. Erik, despite being the most hideous of men, had an air of inner strength and self-assuredness that I found most appealing. He also had a very sensual way of conducting himself, so fluid and graceful. He exuded an inner elegance that was strikingly different to most of the men in my acquaintance, boorish testosterone laden apes who took no greater pleasure than in proving their virility with truly innane gestures of bravado. Erik was given to displays of temprement and melodrama, as well as grand excersices of his considerable skills as magician, musician, and mad inventor, but they served only to delight himself with the astonishment of the assembled crowds of royal lackies he performed for, and not to assert his masculinity. In my eyes he needed no help with that!
Through a stroke of pure luck I was placed in the position of 'safegaurding' Erik. Such a uniquely gifted and horrible man made many quick enemies, but my ultimate purpose was as much to defend the shah and his family from any schemes of Erik's deranged mind as to protect the young rogue from a swift death at the hands of angered nobles.
He was a very strange young man. At times he would invite me to sit with him until late in the evening, drinking fine wine and discussing anything and everything. His grasp of the most ecclectic knowledge never ceased to amaze me, and he absorbed any new information that was imparted to him with the speed and verocity of a starving jackel set upon fresh meat. He delighted in confounding me with his endless little jests, then taking as much time as needed to patiently explain how he achieved such wonders. He entertained me endlessly because it pleased him to do so. He called me Daroga, a word which in my tongue means something akin to a chief of police. I was no such thing, merely a gaurd with a knack for uncovering evidence and being unusually observant. But I took it as a compliment, even though I knew sometimes he meant it mockingly when his temprement was dark. A good deal of the time, though, I believe he truly did intend it as a term of endearment towards me. That he would have thought me worthy of such an honoured post.
Then at other times he would become black and moody, refusing to speak to me except in short derogatory bursts. He would heap insults upon my intelligence and my beliefs then shut himself away in his chambers. And although I posessed the keys to enter, and tried to in order to fulfill my capacity, he had done something to his door which rendered my passkey useless. But then, he was not known as the Trap-Door Lover for nothing I suppose.
Much to my shame and confusion the more time I spent in his company, the more I began to desire him. As a friend, as a companion, as a lover. However he took no notice of any romantic affection I might have subtly hinted at. I had apparently played my part well for all my years for I do not even believe he ever guessed that I was a homosexual.
"Daroga," He had said one night after we had imbibed an entire bottle of wine together, "Why don't you get yourself a woman and stop wasting your time drinking with monsters? You'd certainly have an easier time of finding a mistress than I. Women in this country are obtained for a pittance. Duty bound to share their delightful feminine secrets with any man they are presented to." He gave a derisive laugh that was chilling to hear. "Well...almost any man. Though I'm sure not even the sultana is cruel enough to offer up one of her subordinates to such a vile wretch as myself. But you. A loyal, stubbornly good willed soul with a face as normal as one could desire. Why does she not throw you a concubine to enjoy as your own?"
In truth I had been offered women before in reward for well performed services to the royal family. I had always turned them down graciously declaring myself unworthy of such great marks of respect when I was merely humbly doing my job for the good of the exaulted royal family and the betterment of Persia. Not to mention a woman would be fiercely distracting from my investigations and I should be most distraught if my work should become slip-shod through the indulgence of such a gift. The shah was egocentric enough to accept this nonsense rather easily, and so I had been spared the uncomfortable position of attempting to fornicate with some young girl who held absolutely no interest for me, but would gossip viciously through the harem should I not bed her regularly.
"I'm far too attached to my career to let a comely figure distract me from it." I replied.
Erik laughed at me in response. He howled and carried on as though it were the most hilarious thing in the world that I should choose my work over a woman. Finally, he calmed himself enough to speak and I understood. "You're simply too lowly to be bothered with, is what you mean! Oh, daroga, famed, glorious gaurdian of the Angel of Death! I should have known! Why else would they saddle you with this pointless position? Who would dare harm Erik? No, no, you must have done something to upset them so! For the shah to charge you with my keeping, of all people. It must be a pity position, for the eunichs were all too busy pleasuring the bored seraglio with their mouths and their fat fingers to be spared babysitting me!" And again he began to roar with laughter. I allowed him to think whatever humiliating thoughts he wished. I would not betray my true purpose for being assigned to him, nor would I correct his assumption that I was too benieth the notice of the shah or sultana to be offered a woman. Instead I simply opened another bottle of wine and refilled our glasses with a defeated smile.
"Yes, Erik. That must be it."
We did not drink together again much after that night, for the shah had learned of Erik's abilities as an architect and had comissioned from him a very special palace. Between the work he put in on that, the endless little amuseements he devised for the wickedly sadistic sultana, and his aquired charge of being a most ruthless and ingenious executioner for high profile prisoners, he had little enough time to waste in leisure. The increasing demands upon him also saw to it that his temper, which was never overly indulgent in the beginning, was always strained. I believe that the very brief glimmers of self-restraint he showed during this time may have belonged to me and me alone in deferance to what I could only hope were fond memories of chatting idly with me and enjoying one another's company. I knew a friend must have been a novel and rare concept for him, and I believe that he did make some effort to spare me the worst of his wrath.
Of course, once the palace was finished the shah became quite suspicious that Erik, having no particular allegience to him, might divulge it's secrets to others. Or, worse yet, build another monarch a superior creation. It was decided that Erik was to be put to death without delay. And that I would deliver the means.
It was well known at this point that Erik's inner apartments were all but inaccessible if he did not desire a person to enter them. I do not know exactly how he had fortified them, but was only too aware of my inability to reach him if he were not in the mood for company. Any attempt to break down the door or tear apart the wall to obtain entrance would take long enough that it was undoubtable that Erik would be able to prepare a rather nasty trap or simply vanish into thin air before the person outside could possibly complete his task. Erik was also quite familiar with the palace at Mazendaren and had the disquieting ability to disappear at a moment's notice to Allah only knew where. It was also beleived that he had worked some form of sorcery upon the grounds and it would be impossible to destroy him there. I did not know about sorcery, but I did not put it past him to have had the forsight to know that his welcome would eventually wear thin and some boobytraps and strategically placed devices would likely be quite handy. Erik always had a knack for planning out for unpleasant eventualities.
It was therefore decided that I was to coax him into leaving Mazenderan. He would trust me, if he trusted anyone. I would take him to a rendezvous point in the desert where he would not have any advantage. There, a dozen armed men would kill him by any means needed.
Although the man was a deranged fiend--really, one only needed to witness one of his infamous executions to understand that--he had not committed any sin against the shah himself. Because of my sentiments, and because I like to believe myself a basically moral man, I could not bring myself to deliver Erik into such a trap. I went to his chambers, as arranged, and he allowed me entry after a weary debate through his door.
As I closed the door behind me to shut out any prying ears that may have been lurking in the hallway Erik sank onto the sofa. "Why is it so damned important that you speak to me right now? Can you not see that I am exhausted! Could it not wait until tomorrow? I have only just completed his majesty's blasted carnival house he's calling a palace and I wish to sleep!"
I hurried to him, grabbing him by the arm and whispering quickly. "Gather anything portable you have that is of value to you. I have been sent to lead you to your doom, but I will not! I will save you, Erik. But we must hurry."
He looked at me aghast and pulled his arm away. "If you are having me on, this is a jest in poor taste, Daroga."
"I am not. The shah fears you will spread the secrets of his new palace. He has decided that if you are dead you'll be less likely to betray him. I am in deadly earnest, Erik."
He looked me in the eye and knew that all I said was true. He rose to his feet and began to pack a small sachel. "Won't they notice my being rather encumbered for a man being led to the gallows?"
I shook my head. "You were not to know my intentions. You are coming on a retreat with me, in celebration of the completion of the new palace. I was to tell you anything that would get you to come with me. Offers of gold, woman, fine drink, anything that would draw you from your stronghold here."
He gave a sharp laugh. "My stronghold! Is this not the shah's palace?"
"He is no fool. He believes you have prepared for his eventual boredom with you." Erik gave me an odd look. It was difficult to interpret his expressions through the mask that hid his entire face, especially since his eyes were set so deep within their sockets, it was sometimes impossible to read their expressions through the shadows the mask created. But I thought that perhaps he was smiling. I saw why when he began opening compartments secreted in the most clever of places and drawing various weapons and other nasty looking things from their crevices. "And apparently his supicions were well warrented."
It did not take him long to be ready to move. I recalled that he had been travelling with a gypsy fair before he had been brought to Persia to amuse the sultana. I imagined that he had some practise at packing up and moving on from unwelcoming situations. We left together and he played his part quite well, speaking excitedly about how good it would be to have a small break after all his hard work and how well he deserved the great rewards the shah had promised him. Anyone within earshot would not have suspected a thing.
Once we were out of the city I told him the fastest route out of the country, passing by the least amount of patrols. I had faith that he could elude them well enough. The journey would take him three days, perhaps four. Nearby was a trading post where he could obtain whatever provisions he would need. For the right price the men who ran it could be persuaded to say they had not seen him. I would claim that Erik had grown suspicious on our ride and overpowered me, riding off toward the east, which was where I would lead a search patrol to apprehend him. Meanwhile Erik would be going west as swiftly as possible. With luck my distraction would buy him enough of a head start to enable him to escape. And my attempts to 'track' him would spare me a death sentance myself for allowing him to escape. I took an empty bag from within my cloak and had Erik transfer his belongings into it. The one he had packed in his apartment and been seen leaving with I took and hid.
As far as I know things went well enough for Erik, I heard no reports that he was positively identified at all, although several people claimed to have seen a tall man in dark clothing who's face was hidden from view. I was fortunate enough to come across the corpse of some unlucky traveller who had died from the arid Persian heat and been baked for several days on the unforgiving sands and torn nearly asunder by scavengers. I planted a few tokens I had taken from Erik's chambers on the poor wretch as well as the sachel I had traded with Erik. I had been just far enough ahead of the rest of the party that they had not seen me do this, so when I declared the body to be the court magician's it was accepted after they had turned out the pockets and seen the unique design of the bag. The tokens I had taken were worthless bits of wire and cogs, so it was easy enough to declare that bandits must have stolen whatever was of value in the sachel or on his person.
The shah was still highly displeased that I had allowed Erik to get away, even if only for a brief time before he met his supposed fate. I was banished from my country, although in recognition of past services to his majesty and the fact that I had been the one to find the body I would be allowed to draw a modest pension from the royal treasury.
And so I very suddenly found myself without a country, without friends, and without any idea as to where I should go. I recalled Erik speaking of his travels throughout Europe and the mideast. The magnificent things he had spoken of that could be found in foreign lands. I decided that I, too, would travel for a bit. Eventually I hoped I would find a new place to call home.
I meandered through the Ottoman Empire, explored the relaxed shores of the Mediterranian, and eventually settled briefly in Morocco. I made it a habit to hang about the taverns where the traders rested. Occasionally I would be able to obtain news from my homeland, which lightened my heart somewhat. I also kept an ear out for any indication that Erik had made it out of Persia alive. Years passed, and I heard nothing. I tried to move on with my life. It had been nearly fifteen years since the Rosy Hours of Mazendaren and I had heard absolutely nothing I could even pretend had a thing to do with Erik.
I took a lover. A a younger man of lower class upbringing that held the official title of being my servant. Darius was a sweet, quiet boy that held a very strong affection for me. And although I, in turn, was quite fond of him and enjoyed his body thoroughly, I still pined for my monsterous masked friend. I had a strong pity for the man. He had been so cruelly used by nearly everyone he had ever met. Not that he had not been cruel in kind, but I could not help but think that perhaps if he were to be shown some form of affection that it might temper him, even slightly. I had no illusions that I could miraculously reform him through love. But I had aspirations of making him, if not a better person, at least a happier one.
I lived peaceably enough, and had finally begun to resign myself to the fact that I was likely never to encounter that strange, enthralling man again when I happened to catch a snippet of rumour from one of the European traders. It seemed that the grand new Palais Garnier was haunted. And the ghost of this singular establishment had some awful tricks that sounded terribly familiar to a man who haunted me.