Angel of Doom and an English Rose (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 8 - Morphine and Friends

Rosetta's POV:

It was late at night when I decided to go find Angel. I wanted to talk to him about what was happening with Alexander Dorta and my life in general. Maybe he would have some advice.

I rose from my bed and pulled on my robe. I didn't even bother to get completely dressed. There really was no need and I didn't feel like it. I slipped on my slippers and pulled back my unruly hair.

I lit a candle and walked down the halls. They were completely deserted and for that I was grateful. I didn't want to have to explain to anyone why I was walking down the halls in the middle of the night. Every now and then I would jump because I thought that I had been seen. Suddenly a light came towards me. I darted into a doorway and blew out my candle.

Two tall Persian men walked down the hall and whispered between each other. Strangely enough they were speaking English. I took the random guess that they didn't want anyone to understand them. I listened mostly carefully to their conversation.

"Nadir, you are in trouble. The Shah isn't liking the Angel of Doom's strength. He is planning on getting rid of him and you. You must run." The man called Nadir shook his head.

"I can't leave without him. He won't leave until the palace is done. He is so stubborn. He thinks he is immortal. No, I can't leave yet. I won't leave my son's best friend to die here." The other man shrugged his shoulders and said,

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Now, I have better get going. We don't want the Shah to learn of this. Goodnight." The men bowed to each other then headed in opposite directions.  I re-lit my candle and hurried down the hall which led to Angel's rooms.

Now, we had more to talk about. His name, this man, and my problem. We would have a long conversation if he was up to it. I soon arrived at his doors.

I knocked quietly and the door opened a moment later. I walked in and Angel was sitting at his table doing something. I blew out my candle because he had enough light for me to see by. I set my candle down and walked over to him. My jaw dropped when I saw he had a needle in his arm and was shooting something in his veins.

I felt something rising up my throat but he was lucky I was a strong woman. I turned away and waited until he was done. A moment later he said,

"You may look now, Rosetta. I gather you don't like the sight?" I looked back at him and put my hands on my hips.

"It isn't the sight. It is the fact that you do it. What was it?" He chuckled dangerously and moved over to his organ. He tested one of the keys and said,

"Morphine. You didn't expect me to live life without something. Morphine is better than opium because it doesn't hurt my voice." I glared at him. To tell the truth, it hadn't crossed my mind that he might be an addict to something. I found a seat and said,

"Are you always high on morphine?" He looked at me and said,

"As often as I can. I use enough to keep the pain away. It also blocks all feeling. Very helpful when one is the court assassin." I rolled my eyes. It hurt me to know that he had to use a drug to keep away the pain. What pain? He hadn't bothered to explain about that. I guessed his life had been hard but I wondered how bad it really had been. Call it a woman's curiosity but I wanted to know.

I leaned back and said,

"What pain?" He had started to play something while we had been talking but now he stopped and looked at me. His golden eyes were frozen and showing no feeling. But I could see something in the back of them. A memory was haunting him. 

"Why do you ask?" He growled out. I took a deep breath and spoke my heart.

"Because, I want to know what would drive a man as strong as yourself to use a drug so frequently. You aren't weak, Angel." He listened to me and then quietly said,

"Why should you care? No one has ever cared before. And why did you call me 'Angel'?" I smiled and said,

"Because I can't keep calling you 'Angel of Doom.' You aren't that scary. And its a really long name." I took a deep breath and addressed his other statement. "Angel, I do care. You are my friend. I know what you do and I still wish to be your friend. As a friend, I need to care what happens to you." He looked me over and sighed. He shoulders went limp and he breath in and out several times before he said,

"If you had ever seen what I did you wouldn't. I am surprised you even wanted to be my friend. I have two friends. One is too young to know what I really do. The other is under my spell. I have him under a form of hypnosis. He is my friend because I made him that way." I looked at him and said,

"His name wouldn't happen to be Nadir?" He had lowered his head into his arms but now he quickly glanced at me.

"How did you know that name?" I stood up and walked over to him.

"Well, I met him and another man in the passage. They were talking about you and whether or not you should run and if so when. They were saying something about the Shah and that he feared your power." Angel sighed and his shoulder remained limp. I touched one of them and felt him stiffen.

He looked at me and said,

"I know. I have heard such rumors. You are right though. Nadir Khan or as I often call him, Daroga or the Persian, is my 'friend.' His son is the one who is too young to understand. Perhaps it is better that way." He pulled away from my hand and I let him go. He wasn't dropped too much of his guard. I could hear it in his voice. Had I pushed too hard no telling what he would do.

I didn't know what to do. How could I comfort him? Maybe I was just thinking too much into this but something told me I wasn't.

I reached out again and wrapped one arm around his shoulder. He pulled away an instant later and said,

"What was that for?" I smiled up at him and said,

"A hug. I hope you didn't mind." I blushed and looked down, wishing my hair was lose so it could form a curtain to hide my blush. But it couldn't because it was pulled back. He looked at me and said,

"I don't mind. I just haven't been hugged before. I wasn't expecting it." I tried to smile at him. My heart broke for him. To never have had a hug would have killed me. I often found I needed that. I needed the comfort of someone there. That is why I struggled sometimes with my father because he wasn't the touching kind. 

"Well, then, you don't mind if I do this?" I slid onto the organ bench and, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders, I laid my head on his shoulder. The organ bench was just large enough for two people and, considering that both Angel and I weren't the widest people in the word, we fit very nicely.

He stared down at me and whispered,

"Never has anyone been this close without being in utter terror." He had said it more to himself then to anyone so I didn't bother to respond. And what could I say? Well, nothing. All I could do was hold him when he needed it.

His arms were still hanging limp at his sides so I looked up at him and said,

"Angel, you can wrap your arm around my shoulders if you would like. If you don't want to I understand." I didn't want to make him uncomfortable with too much touching. He looked down at me and said,

"If you don't mind..." He lifted his arm and carefully draped it around my shoulders. I scooted closer and whispered,

"I need this as much as you. My father isn't the type that likes to be touched. I don't get much affection in my home." He squeezed my shoulder lightly and said,

"Then, we can do this. I didn't want you to feel like you were forced." His voice wasn't the cold tone it commonly was. It was warmer and softer. I didn't respond. I just enjoyed being so close to someone. I didn't care that he was a murder and could kill me in an instant. I didn't care about such things. We were both lonely and we both needed this.

Suddenly I asked,

"Angel, what is your real name?"