Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello all! This is a new story that occurred to me a few days ago, let me know if it's any good or I should just quit while I'm ahead. Please read, reveiw, and most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

"So you are leaving then? I can't say that I blame you. I would abandon this sinking ship myself if I was not obligated to stay here and try to save it."

Gabriel raised a brow at his often pessimistic friend. He supposed the man had few things to truly be happy about, but really, the dour attitude was wearing thin. There wasn't much time left for him here, and he'd rather not spend it arguing. "Erik, drop the act, please! We both know why you're going to stay, and it's not an obligation to you at all. This is your place by birthright."

The man that sat across from him, Erik DeRoux, was simply and somewhat formally dressed in pressed black slacks, a black dress shirt and a garnet vest. Despite that he was half Shaliman, Erik often went out of his way to distance himself from the surrounding culture. Thus, his grand office had been redesigned to reflect his French heritage; the palace kitchens had been supplied with cheese, meats and wine from Provence and Erik refused to even consider clothing himself in the more traditional robes of a Shaliman king.

Gabriel noted that the man was wearing gloves once again despite the pleasant warmth of the weather outside. Not that Erik cared to spend much time out of his chambers, which were always kept cool, but he had hoped that he might see the man's hands once before he made his departure from the place that had acted as his home for the past ten years.

Where small hope had existed for the absence of the gloves, Gabriel knew better than to hope for Erik to remove his mask. After so many years, he had simply learned to take it in stride. It really wasn't such a problem once he had become accustomed.

The mask concealed most of Erik's face, leaving only his bright eyes and the cynical slant of his mouth open for observation. He rarely smiled; usually a smirk was all that one could hope for. As expected, Erik smirked at Gabriel from across his desk. "Birthright." He mused over the word for a moment. "You have lived here for so long, Gabriel, yet you are still an American, aren't you? You make my place here sound so noble. I think you might have forgotten my circumstances."

Gabriel shifted slightly in his chair, knowing he was in for another one of Erik's small tirades. He fought the urge to roll his eyes when Erik stood from his chair and paced to the end of the room, reaching for a liquor bottle off the walnut table that ran the length of the room.

"I am not here, taking the mantle on as my birthright. I am here because I am the nation's only available blood royal- or, lest anyone forget, the only available _half_ blood. The product of the king's affair with my mother, resulting in the man you see before you: the half-prince of all Shalimar, now the hated king to a corrupt nation on the verge of collapse! Aren't I lucky?"

Gabriel nodded along in silent respect. He knew Erik's origins only too well, as the mask and gloves were a strong reminder. He silently chastised himself for hoping that Erik might reveal to him that which he had no right to see.

They had been good friends for years, Gabriel thought that he was perhaps the only true friend that Erik had close at hand. Certainly he had few friends within the Shaliman palace! As Erik had said, he was the illegitamate son of the former king; a man whose appetite for women far outran his sense of responsibility before he had finally settled down to marry.

While the people of Shalimar had rejoyced and celebrated at the king's marriage decades ago, they had been reluctant to accept or even acknowledge his past discretion with a woman of foreign blood. That a child of such striking resemblance had been born, outside of marriage to a percieved 'whore of the west' had seemed an insult to both the Shaliman people and their beloved new queen.

Erik had spent his life back and forth between France and Shalimar; adored in one place, ignored and hated in another.

Gabriel supposed that tumultuous upbringing had gone a long way to shape the man that Erik had become, and he honestly couldn't blame Erik for his deep resentment of the people that he was now, by blood, sworn to protect.

With the sudden death of Erik's father only months before, Erik had been thrust into the spotlight as king. His half-brother, Kumar, was far too young to assume the responsibility of the nation; the people had no choice but to accept Erik as a temporary ruler, at least until Kumar was able to take his rightful place.

He had been the golden child all his life. Favored by both his parents and the public, Kumar was the ideal choice. Being a legitimate son of pure Shaliman blood, the people loved him deeply- however, at seventeen, they understood that he was simply far too young. Erik had been grudgingly accepted as a substitute so long as it was understood that he would abdicate to Kumar without protest when the time came for the "true" king to take over.

For his part, Erik would have been happy to continue on, working as he had for years behind the scenes as a translator and unseen foreign analyst at the Shaliman embassy. Fate, obviously, had other plans in store for him.

Gabriel shook himself out of his slight reverie. His friend needed support, encouragement. Gabriel knew that just beneath Erik's gloss of cool detatchment, the man had to be terrified. An entire nation rested on his shoulders! What man wouldn't crumble under such pressure?

Gabriel offered him a smile, "You can do this, Erik. If I may say, you are not the ruler that your father was; he played his way throughout his reign, and look at the problems he caused! If anyone is to lead this place out of the trouble it's in..."

Erik poured two small glasses of bourbon and turned to him. He laughed, somewhat humorlessly. "Trouble? You make it all sound so...small. I'm trapped in the middle of a political nightmare."

Gabriel rose and, by force of habit, took the glass offerred to him. "I think that's the American in me, though I do wonder of my government is any better than yours."

Erik glanced down to the drink in his friend's hand, suddenly remembering. "I forgot. Can you still drink?"

Gabriel paused a moment before he set his glass aside. "It might be better if I don't tempt fate." He said with a wry smile.

Erik nodded, his eyes averted for a moment. "When do you leave?"

"The day after tomorrow, early. I haven't even started packing. I don't know where to start. Thank God for Kalila, she'll have everything ready by the time we're set to go." Gabriel said, sensing the heaviness of his own words. Truly, he didn't want to leave. Uprooting his wife and daughter, and essentially leaving his friend like this had been the last thing he wanted, but his condition was worsening. Since the death of the king and with each exposed scandal, the nation was quickly becoming very dangerous. Besides that, Gabriel wanted to see his own family, his parents and sister. He might not be able to in the future.

Gabriel took a deep breath and let his eyelids droop for a moment. It was late in the evening, and he always felt exhausted these days.

Erik was silent for a time. "And the girl?"

Gabriel sighed and looked up into Erik's bright eyes. "She's my daughter, Erik. Christine has to come with us. All this time, and she's barely even seen her true country. There are people on my side of the family that she's never even met. It's time I took her home."

Erik nodded again, his thirst apparently vanished as he set his own untouched glass on the edge of his desk.

"You look tired, Gabriel. I'll not keep you."

It was a dismissal if Gabriel had ever heard one, and Erik's tone spoke plain. He nodded to his friend and left the grand office.

Moments later as he was walking down the corridor, Gabriel heard the piercing sound of glass shattering against a wall.

* * *

Life had not been kind to Erik. Gabriel knew this, had known the truth for over a decade. 

He and Erik had been introduced at a celebration for the marriage of one of the king's favored officers. Gabriel had been to Shalimar several times in his life, though mainly for his pursuits as a photojournalist. Shalimar, while a relatively small country, boasted some of the world's most exotic wildlife and customs. Truly, it was a photographer's paradise. In many respects, Shalimar could be seen as similar to Gabriel's native America due to its multiculturalism. The people that made up the country were from several different races and many different religions were peacefully accepted all throughout the nation. Temples, churches and synagogues made up a large part of the country's architectural identity.

Thankfully, Shalimar had never been plagued by large conflicts between its many faiths.

The king, as Gabriel had known him, had been a lean man of swarthy complexion and many clever words. Bhaskar al Sharma, he had ruled the small country with ease, years of experience being a great aid in times of trouble and his natural charisma hadn't hurt him in the least. When he was a younger man, it had often been said that he could charm even the most hostile of men into his favor. Certainly he'd had his fun in charming women!

He had been young when he'd been placed on the throne. Arrogance accompanied youth, and even a young king was not beyond this truth. Bhaskar had learned early on that when his title or wealth did not serve the purpose of seducing a woman, his own natural charm served him well enough. It had been this sense of self that had bolstered his ego large enough that he had gone in pursuit of many different women while on a long tour of negotiation with several countries throughout Europe.

Portugal, Spain, England, Scotland, France, Germany, Italy...

There had been a woman for the king in every capitol city visited, but only one that had been of any consequence.

Adelle DeRoux, a young fashion model at the time of their meeting, had been overwhelmed by the king's interest when he'd approached her outside of a cafe in Paris. How could she not? She had been barely more than a girl at the time, newly nineteen when Bhaskar had out and out seduced her into his bed. For three days he had held the svelte young woman in his sensual spell, releasing her only when his itenerary demanded he board a plane to Rome, the next in a long line of cities where he carried on in the same manner with many other women.

For a king not even yet in his thirties, the world had been his oyster. While he had always been discreet to keep up appearances, Bhaskar had never hesitated before going in pursuit of the female form. The world had held few challenges for him; for the sake of himself, he had decided that he would enjoy as many women as he could before settling into a life of marriage and monotony for the sake of his people.

And the girl he had left in Paris had been heartbroken, the way all young women are when they realize the ugly truths behind the flattering words of men. Bhaskar had promised Adelle forever, whispering empty proposals and then abandoning her completely without even the respect for her to say goodbye. It had cut her to realize that she had been used in such a way; that she had given him her body only to be tossed aside...it had taken time to accept the type of man that Bhaskar truly was, but Adelle had carried on as best she could in the interest of the child that the king had left her with.

Adelle provided everything for their son, but Erik had deserved to know the truth of his heritage.

Bhaskar had known nothing of the son that had resulted from his time with Adelle- truth be told, he could hardly remember her when she came before him years after their affair had ended. She had been nothing to him but another face in a long line of worldwide conquests. He had known nothing of his supposed son until the boy was five years old and had become self-aware enough to realize that, when compared to other children, his home lacked a father.

There had been no denying Adelle. Fueled by the hurt of his cruel dismissal of her those years ago, and the fear that Erik would be rejected in the same way, she had refused to allow the king to run. She cared nothing of Shaliman customs and she had not been intimidated by the wife he had taken in their time apart; Adelle cared only for Erik.

"You left me, but I will not allow you to turn your back on your own son," Adelle had declared to Bhaskar.

The woman had been fearless.

That a king would sire a child and then turn away was an indication of true weakness. He could not allow Adelle to go public with their past affair; to prevent the scandal she'd threatened to expose, Bhaskar had grudgingly accepted responsibility for their son.

Erik had never carried any delusions of his place in Shalimar, not even when he was just a boy. He knew that he was an embarassment to the people, the shame of their king. He was given the title of 'half-prince' purely as a formality, but he felt as if he should have been marked 'king's bastard mistake' instead. It was far more accurate, at least.

When he was permitted to visit his father in Shalimar, Erik was often pushed to the side and ignored.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

It had continued in this way for years.

After the "accident" that had claimed his mother, Erik had been content to remain in the shadows of the palace, his hatred for the king and the people of Shalimar growing with each passing year.

* * *

Gabriel had heard the condensed version of this story from Kalila, his wife who had worked in the palace as an advisor. 

They had been married a short time after meeting at a press conference the year before and yet even so, being married to an advisor of the king of Shalimar had earned Gabriel an invitation to the celebration. The party had been in full swing, the grand hall of the palace treated with colored lights and thrilling music. No expense had been spared; champagne flowed, people danced, and gifts were piled high.

Gabriel had been given special permission to take pictures and have them sent via e-mail to his publisher in New York. He had been taking pictures of the honored newlyweds on the floor when he had caught sight of Erik through the lens of his camera. What he had thought he'd seen was a flash of a strangely decorated mask, but he wanted to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

He had lowered his camera, not sure of what he had thought he'd seen. The man in the mask was where he had been the moment before, leaning casually against the back wall, but obviously avoiding the crowd of partygoers.

Kalila approached Gabriel's side, handing him a drink. "Who are you spying on?" She had asked with a smile, pointing to his camera. His new wife was not and had never been a stunning beauty as his first wife had been, but Gabriel found Kalila's clever personality and petite frame irresistible.

Gabriel had shrugged. "I'm not sure...there's someone over there in a mask, is there going to be a performance later?"

Kalila had smiled again and, after glancing in the direction he'd indicated, shook her head. "Oh, no, no. That is only Erik. Count yourself lucky, he's rarely seen at events like these. He's not very receptive to other people, you know."

"Who is he?"

"He is the king's first son. A bastard from an affair, years ago. He is not looked on with favor and he knows this, so he usually keeps to himself." Kalila had told him. Her blithe explanation unsettled Gabriel; he felt like he had discovered a gold mine when all anyone gave a damn about was silver.

Gabriel had had no idea the king had had a son by any woman other than his queen. The journalist in him was suddenly eager; perhaps the party wouldn't be a waste of time after all. "Do you think I could get an interview with him?"

Kalila glanced over to the corner where Erik stood, his lanky frame leaning against the wall, his head bent over the wine swirling in his glass. "If you can get him to talk, but don't make a spectacle of yourself."

Gabriel had laughed and kissed her cheek before heading towards the bizarre man in the mask.

* * *

Erik woke early the next morning. His dreams had been filled with memories, none of them pleasant. 

He glanced at the clock. _'By this time tomorrow, Gabriel, Kalila and Christine...my Christine will be in America.'_

It was wrong to think of her in such a possessive way, Erik knew, but he could not help himself. The girl was special to him, she had been since he had first come to be aquainted with her parents. Christine was considerably younger than he was, but he would not hesitate to admit her being his closest friend. He shrugged to himself as he dressed for the day.

They had met a few weeks after the party where Erik had been introduced to her father; she'd been just a child then, barely older than six years old, while Erik had been near twenty at the time. This vast difference in age had never kept them apart, however. They simply adored each other.

Erik's friendship with Christine had been seen as comical when she was younger; they were entirely mismatched, but she had thought of Erik as her playmate and had never hesitated in seeking out his company, usually at the most inconvenient times. There had been one memorable occasion when she'd barged into his room, wanting to play, while Erik had been "entertaining" a courtesan. Luckily the child had not seen anything damaging, but from then on Erik had been careful to keep his door locked at all hours.

After only one warning not to touch his mask, Christine had never mentioned it again. She accepted Erik as he was, and had grown to adore him as her favorite person in all of the palace. Given his lonliness, Erik had been thrilled to spend time with someone, even if with just a mere girl. As the years passed, people began to take more notice of Erik's growing relationship with the palace's favorite resident child. Uncomfortable concern soon began to grow, however, when it came to light just how much time Erik and Christine spent alone together; it was unnatural, and even Gabriel had been left a little uneasy when he realized how close they were.

Erik had been a grown man that spent most of his time in the company of a girl barely more than a child!

Of course nothing had ever crossed the line of close friendship, but Erik was not oblivious to the attention he'd been drawing to themselves by sharing her company. He'd spoken to Christine about it, and warned her that they shouldn't spend so much time together. It wasn't what he wanted, but Erik would rather not see her at all than allow any kind of suspicion to taint their friendship.

Christine had understood. She didn't want people to think Erik was some sort of...

But how could she give up her best friend?

She had set her clever mind to work, pondering on how they could continue seeing each other without drawing outside attention. The girl had gone after Erik the next morning, slipping a little note under his office door, instructing him to meet her at a specific fountain in the palace gardens at noon the following day.

Erik had gone to see her and Christine had told him that they could meet there and avoid anyone thinking the worst of them. The foutain had become a special place for the both of them, and they often met there when they wanted to see each other. The foutain itself was quaint, unlike the other, more ostentatious fountains and sculptures that were peppered all throughout the vast gardens. Their fountain was small, of smooth gray stone. Orchids and lillies surrounded the fountain base, leading off to a wooded gravel path that wound its way through the gardens, branching off to lead towards different areas. The sky above their heads was obscured by the overhanging branches of trees, many of them several centuries old.

It was where Erik headed now; not only did the fountain serve as a meeting place, but the surrounding area was beautiful, peaceful. An ideal place to come and relax when a man needed to clear his head. Since the death of the king, Erik had come down to the fountain nearly every morning to bolster his strength to face the day. Sudden kingship was not for the faint of heart; while his father had lived, Erik had pursued his studies in foreign relations, political studies and finance. His mastery of these subjects had pulled him through the past few months, but with each passing week there came a new problem to loom on the horizon.

Bhaskar had been a favorite of the people for his charisma and his ability to relate to the common man, but he himself was anything but a man of the people. His entire reign had been nothing but lies! Money embezzled from charities, the lower class exploited, resources hoarded away for the rich! Erik knew that the time would soon come when he would dismiss all the people that had been in his father's pocket; he no longer trusted any of them.

The nation was fragile and uneasy enough with Erik in the place of ruler; if any more of the scandals of his father were exposed, Shalimar could erupt into chaos.

Erik would not let that happen.

He might have grown up hating his father and Shalimar itself, but he was not so selfish that he would put his own feelings ahead of an entire nation. He wanted to correct the problems that his father's weakness and greed had created, and then when Kumar was ready to take over, Erik would return home to France and never even think of Shalimar again.

But first, he had to say goodbye to Christine. His heart ached at the thought.

His girl had turned into a young woman, newly sixteen as of the past month. Her image flooded his mind, and Erik smiled, comparing the face of her six year old self to the young woman she had become. In ten years, there had not been much change in her features. Her face was still a pale oval with rosy cheeks and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The freckles had faded slightly as she grew older, but her bright eyes and smile had remained the same.

Her hair was dark brown, a trait from Gabriel. Erik had never seen Christine's mother, but he supposed he should thank the woman for birthing such a lovely girl. Erik was not blind to Christine's emerging prettiness; she was slowly shedding her gawky adolesence. Her body had grown taller with her years, she was only a hand shorter than Erik himself, but her body lacked any indication of a woman's shape.

Erik shrugged to himself. What did he know of her body? He had no wish to know anything of it, and Christine was always wearing loose Shaliman robes anyway.

He shook his head. It was inappropriate to think of Christine in such a way; she was only his friend, nevermind any plans that his father might have had for the two of them!

"Erik?"

He turned quickly to find Christine coming up the path toward him.


	2. The New World

Erik smiled slightly as Christine moved toward him, her pale blue robes flowing out behind her as she ran. His chest tightened as she stepped before him and threw her arms around his neck as she had thousands of times before.

How would he be able to face the days without her?

In a strange way, Erik had grown to see his time spent alone with Christine as a sort of reward for enduring the stress of his new position. Now without his friend, what would he have to look forward to?

Erik carefully returned Christine's embrace, his hands resting lightly just over her waist. Her hair had been oiled the night before, the scent of blossoms pleased his senses. He tried not to notice. "You've awoken early this morning, Christine."

"Does that not please you, _sire?"_ She asked him, teasing.

Erik released her. "And how many times must I ask you not to call me that?"

Christine laughed and took his hands into hers, swaying slightly from side to side, making Erik follow her lead. Together, they danced for a few moments in the garden. "You may ask me as many times as you like, but I will call you _sire_ for as long as I know that it annoys you," she said, a wicked smile playing at her lips.

Erik spun her around and tried not to smile along with her. "I'll not be the king here forever. Only until Kumar is ready."

"I know that, but it will still be years, Erik. Kumar is only a year older than me! What will you do afterwards?" She asked him.

Erik raised an eyebrow, though Christine could not see his puzzled expression for his mask. "After what?"

She turned and Erik fell into step beside her, heading down the gravel path. "After your time as king has ended, what will you do? I think it would be strange to try to pick up where you left off with working at the embassy. To go from analyst to king and then back again..." Christine shrugged, trying to imagine being a ruler one day and then an office worker the next. She knew that Erik wasn't happy with his situation- wise man that he was, he had never longed for the highly visible position of a king.

Christine thought that she knew him well. Erik enjoyed the quiet pleasures of life; he liked to read, listen to music, watch films and theater performances. He wasn't a glutton, though he liked his food, certainly. What man didn't? He had a healthy appetite, both in food and women. His affairs had been few and far between, and highly discreet, at that. Women had never been something that Erik talked about, at least never with her. Christine wondered if he had a mistress at present, one that he might marry and take as his queen.

The thought was unsettling.

Gabriel had warned Christine off spending too much time with Erik, but not for fear of arousing suspicion. Her father's protectiveness had never waned, but he had come to understand that Erik had found a friend in his daughter, and he knew that Christine was different from the other children. She had plenty of good friends her own age, but for whatever reason, his daughter preferred the company of the masked man above all others.

First, simply as friends, but now…

Christine had tried to hide the clues since she had realized her own feelings, but her father had not been blind. Kalila had seen the signs as well and had teased Christine good-naturedly about her first "calf-love". Christine had somehow developed an infatuation with Erik. She'd fought against it, denied it, but in the end she had been made a slave of her own heart.

She often felt confused and annoyed with herself, swinging from one mood into another, at war with herself over the way she had come to feel for the man that was meant to be her friend. There were times when she felt that she could hate Erik, as if he were to blame for the strange urges and feelings that came over her whenever she so much as thought of him.

It felt to her that she had been split in two- the first Christine representing all the passion, love and fire that her young soul could possess, while the second (and decidedly weaker) Christine warned her other half that her feelings were impossible. Erik did not think of her as a woman! Erik was king! It was not the custom; it was stupid and inappropriate to carry on with these fantasies of love!

Still, Christine was a girl, and a young one, at that. She could only understand that her body grew heated whenever she and Erik were alone, that her eyes often strayed to his mouth while they spoke in the idiot hope that he would lean over and kiss her for no reason at all She only knew that for the first time in her life, she wanted a man, Erik, both as a friend and lover.

_Stupid! Stupid!_

Christine knew she was hopeless, that Erik could only see her as a child, but logic had not kept her from dreaming of him coming into her room every night and making love to her with his body and heart…

Christine frowned, and wondered suddenly if that was how he was with his other women.

_Other women..._

"Once I abdicate to Kumar, I plan to go back to France. I've been longing to go back for quite some time, as I'm sure you can imagine." Erik told her, breaking into her thoughts.

Christine stopped walking. Erik continued for a few more steps before noticing that she was not by his side. He turned to find Christine with a shocked expression on her usually serene face. "You won't stay in Shalimar?"

Erik frowned slightly. "Your family is leaving for America, so what's to keep me here? You know I am not happy here; I've wanted to leave for some time now. I hadn't left because…well, I had planned to leave, but then the king died and left this burden behind for me. Once my time here is over, this place will hold no appeal without you or your father." Erik said. It felt good to finally be able to tell her the truth; if this was their last day spent together, then surely no one could fault him for full honesty?

Christine looked away for a moment. She hadn't wanted to talk about leaving; she had hoped to spend the day with Erik and perhaps once she told him, Erik would speak to her father. She's had some romantic idea that Erik might ask Gabriel to allow her to stay with him, and maybe, if given enough time...

"So you know that we're leaving."

Erik's hands began to fidget. He didn't want to think about Christine being gone from his life. "Yes. Gabriel told me last night." He took a deep breath and noticed how upset she appeared. He forced a smile and moved to take her hands into his. "Don't look so glum, my love. We can write to each other, and we will see each other again- here in Shalimar, if you wish it. You would be the only reason I'd want to come back here. Yes, for you alone Christine, I would come back to Shalimar." He only wanted to see her smile.

Christine sighed. "I don't want to leave, Erik. I want to stay here, this is my home..."

Erik cupped her face and brought her eyes up to his. "Christine, I would love for you to stay, but I think it would be best if you went with Gabriel. He told me that there are people on his side of the family that you've never met. I want to, but it would not be fair to keep you here with me. You don't know your father's country, now would be the best time to learn." It killed Erik to admit it to himself, but he knew that he could not be selfish with her. Gabriel needed his daughter more than Erik needed his friend.

Christine nodded, but made no move to bring herself out of Erik's embrace. She felt deep dread that she might never see Erik again; if that was to be the case, she wanted to imbed his every feature and touch into her memory. She leaned her face further into his hands, enjoying the feel of his soft leather gloves against her cheek. "I know. I haven't been to America for years."

Suddenly reluctant, but not unaware, Erik released her and motioned to a stone bench set into an alcove along the trail. Once they both sat down, he began to ask her about how she would live there. Erik had never been to America himself, he was curious about the country.

"Do you fear starting a new life there?"

Christine touched her hair. "No. Yes. I don't know! I hate not knowing how it will be- I don't know enough about their culture, I don't want to be seen as an outcast..."

"You are strong, Christine, and shouldn't fear. I believe the other children your age will be interested- you have an exotic background; that paired with your intelligence and kind heart…well, friends will not be in short supply." Erik told her in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

Christine inwardly scowled at the word 'children'.

_I am not a child anymore, Erik, if you would only look at me, truly look at me, then you could see that!_

Christine bit her tongue to keep from shouting out her thoughts. Instead, she said, "I can only hope that you're right, Erik. My father told me that we would stay with his parents for our first few days before he finds a house for us. I have a cousin, she lives near them, she was a friend to me on my last visit there...but what about you, Erik?"

He smiled. The girl was a precious gem; she cared for him so deeply that Erik had to laugh. He laughed, only to keep himself from crying that she would be leaving for years, and perhaps might not return. "You think I can't possibly get by without you? Come now, Christine! I've been dealt a rough hand by fate but I won't break. I'll see you again; if not in France, if not in America, we will see each other in Shalimar."

As time passed without Christine, Erik began to wonder how he had come to believe in his own lies.

* * *

It was an exhausting day- first the flight over the Atlantic and then the endless gates and terminals of the JFK airport and the navigation over several different highways had left the Daae family very much worse for wear. Christine's nose had been glued to the window of her father's rental car. She had been to New York only a few times in her life, but she hadn't remembered the buildings being so tall, or the city being so beautiful! 

Her father wheeled them to a place just outside of the city limits, to a more suburbanized area where her grandparents made their home. He pulled into an upscale neighborhood of greystone townhouses and parked in front of the one marked #14.

Christine followed her father into the house that belonged to her grandparents, essential strangers that she had only met a handful of times throughout her entire life. She remembered them from her visit several years ago as kind people that had taken a great pleasure in spoiling her rotten, from a grandfather that bought her toys to her grandmother that had baked her all kinds of sweet treats.

After covering her with kisses and hugs, her grandparents, David and Angela, had wanted to speak with Gabriel and Kalila alone. Noting her tired eyes, Christine had been urged to find a guestroom to settle into and freshen up. She set down her luggage with a slight groan and took a deep breath. _America is different, even the air tastes differently._

She felt exhausted, almost ragged from the trip; it felt as if the flight had sucked the life right out of her, and as she glanced in the bathroom mirror she could confirm that it had. Her eyes were heavy her skin was blotchy and her hair looked like a limp tangle of dark, stringy vines.

She thought of taking a shower, but even that seemed a monumental feat. Chistine knew it was more than jet lag that wearied her. Shalimar was calling, urging her to go back, but it was too late. Christine could not go back if she wanted. She cupped her hands and splashed her face with water.

_I can't go back, I can't see him again-_

She clamped down on her thoughts and splashed her face again. Thinking of Erik would get her nowhere. He had made it clear what he thought of her, and Christine, with her wounded pride, felt determined to put him from her mind completely. She turned her thoughts to the new life she had to make for herself here in her father's country.

There was no other choice.

* * *

Several days after landing in America, once she had been fed, rested, and adjusted to the time difference, Christine opened the front door to a cousin that she remembered from her last visit as a short, chubby girl who had somehow blossomed into a willowy young woman with long blonde hair in the space of a few short years. 

Belinda's transformation from child to woman was so impressive that Christine's jaw had practically dropped to the floor at the sight of her. Apparently this was a common reaction. Belinda had laughed as she hugged her stunned cousin. "It's nice to see you again too, Christine. Now stop ogling me, I'm not a piece of meat!"

Christine had blushed crimson and dropped her eyes. "I apologize,"

Belinda had laughed it off and stepped into the house. "No worries. How was your flight?"

Christine followed Belinda through the living room; obviously her cousin spent much time here with their grandparents, she seemed far more comfortable in their house while Christine had felt awkward since her family's arrival. "The flight was…well, long, and boring and tiring. How have you been since I saw you last? Do you still like to play with…what were they called?" Christine fumbled for the word, which was just beyond her memory.

Belinda turned to Christine and flashed her dark eyes. "They were called Barbies, and no, I don't play with them anymore. You're sweet to remember, though. My dad says you have been here for a few days already. How do you like New York so far?" She asked as she strode into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of cola.

Christine took the can offered her and sat beside Belinda at the kitchen table. "I like it fine…I mean, it's too soon to say, really. Since arriving I've barely left the house. My father and his wife have left today to look for a house nearby for us all to share."

Belinda raised an eyebrow. "You haven't left the house? Why not? You need to get out there, explore a little."

Christine shrugged, feeling like an idiot under Belinda's critical eye. "I haven't left because I was afraid of being seen, or even worse, getting lost."

Belinda smiled. "You were afraid of being seen?"

Christine gestured to the pale pink Shaliman robe she was wearing. "All my clothes are like this. I thought I might be looked at strangely if I was not dressed the way other American girls dress."

Belinda reached over and patted her hand. "Well, Christine, seeing as how you have the day to yourself, I think I can help you out." She jangled her car keys. "I'll take you out for the day. We can go to the city for lunch and I'll buy you a few new outfits."

Christine had almost choked on her soda. "You can't be serious! I cannot allow you to buy me clothes, it wouldn't be right, and-"

Belinda waved off Christine's protests. "Oh, please! You've barely left your room in a week, and I don't mind throwing a little cash your way. Besides, if you're going to be living here, the sooner your learn to adapt, the better. I promise you, the world won't end if you wear a pair of jeans, all right?"

Still reluctant, but warming to the idea, Christine relented and followed Belinda to the car parked in the driveway.

* * *

Belinda had always been curious about the dark haired cousin that she'd only met with a few times throughout her life. The summer had been boring for the most part, at least so far. She had split up with her boyfriend over a reason so trivial she couldn't even remember why, and most of her closer friends had left to go on college tours. 

At nineteen years old, Belinda had begun to feel lonely and almost abandoned during the endless days of summer. Even her job as a model had begun to leave her feeling unfulfilled. Christine had arrived with perfect timing. Belinda took it as a sort of familial responsibility to help her younger cousin assimilate into American society; from styles of dress, to their music and culture, not to mention she would teach Christine how to navigate the endless maze that was New York City. To her way of thinking, she couldn't let Christine walk into school wearing some ornate robe and having no clue how to interact with her would-be peers, it would be cruel!

Belinda wanted to teach Christine as much as she wanted to learn about that mysterious place she had come from, Shalimar. Her cousin had lived in a palace and befriended a king, how romantic! She couldn't hear enough about the festivals and games that went on there, not to mention the wildlife and the history. Travel had always appealed to the blonde's adventurous spirit; it had been her main reason to pass on college and pursue her own career as a model.

So far she had reached a fair level of success- she wasn't the next Gisele, of course, but she had landed a small contract with _Mystique_ cosmetics. There were posters all over New York City with her picture, pouting for the camera, a fact that Belinda relished in boasting.

Christine, for her part, had been looking on Belinda with some degree of envy- she hadn't worn a pair of jeans in years while Belinda looked like one of the impossible creatures that graced the covers of magazines, and Christine had to admit that she wanted to fit in as much as she could- there was nothing that could be done for her Shaliman accent, but perhaps Belinda could do something to make Christine at least _look_ more Americanized.

If Belinda had been seeking something fun to occupy her time and a way to bond with her estranged cousin, then shopping had proved to be the perfect solution. Christine had never known that so much thought and effort was required for the way that Americans dressed. Christine had grown up in Shalimar with a closet full of robes, all identical in their fabric and cut, all of them of pale colored cotton.

They had spent nearly the whole day together, much to Belinda's satisfaction. When they had finally made it back to their grandparents' house, everyone had stared in shock at this new Christine. Beautiful as she always had been, but now with a chic, mature edge that had Kalila giddy and Gabriel worried. _Where did my sweet little girl go?_ _I can't let any boys see her looking like this!_

Christine had looked herself over and smiled. If modeling did not work out, she thought Belinda might do very well as a personal dresser. She had taken Christine from a girl to a young woman in a matter of hours!

_This is exactly what I needed! A new look for my new life! All the better to forget Erik and Shalimar!_

* * *

The first few weeks in America had been a whirlwind. 

Both Christine and Kalila had needed American documents: driver's licenses, Social Security cards and Christine had to be enrolled into school, the same school that had graduated Belinda the year before. Gabriel was scouring the housing market while making his discreet trips to the city hospital. With all that needed to be done and all the lunches, movies and shopping trips Belinda deemed necessary in their time together, there had hardly been any time for Christine to sit down and just _think_ for a moment.

Stubbornly, Christine had made a conscious effort not to think about Erik, but once she finally had the house to herself for an afternoon, she could not stop the flood of thoughts over the man. Was he all right? Did he miss her? Would they ever see each other again?

Christine didn't know what to think, and she chastised herself for indulging her own infatuation with the man. She knew that her feelings toward him had to be based on their friendship and the romantic figure he made in his closely tailored clothes and of course, the mysterious air that he gained from wearing those masks. She didn't know why she had fallen for him, but the truth of it was that she had and she had hoped that as she grew older, Erik might take notice of her, but what hope was there now? Now, when she was on the other side of the world and Erik was always surrounded by sophisticated, beautiful women?

Perhaps there had never been any hope for them at all. Christine winced as she recalled their last day spent together in Shalimar.

* * *

They had walked the gardens and then Erik took her to the Shaliman marketplace. "If you are leaving, it's only right that I find a proper parting gift for you. I know how fond women are of trinkets," he'd said with a wink. 

Christine had started._ He called me a woman!_

She had smiled at him, which made Erik smile, and he then offerred her his arm the way Christine had read that men in Europe often did with women they were courting. Her young, innocent heart had thundered and her mind had raced with possibilities. _Is Erik courting me? Will he stop my father from taking me away? Will he have me stay in the palace with him? _

Erik had walked with Christine through the busy marketplace, greeting the people as they passed. Despite the trouble facing the government, Erik had already labored to repair some of the damage that his father had caused during his rule. The people, once so reluctant to even acknowledge him, now recognized that perhaps in time he would make a greater king than his father.

Christine had allowed herself to feel so proud as they passed a group of women. Their dark eyes may have followed the king, but it was Christine on his arm, basking in his generous attentions. Together the walked through the outdoor market, Erik's eyes looking over everything that the shops had to offer. He wanted something special for the girl, something she could take with her to America that she could look at and remember that it had been his gift to her.

It was a long afternoon spent in the capitol city, and it was near sunset by the time Erik had finally spotted the right little "trinket" to give to Christine.

Erik had told her to go ahead of him into the palace, and that he would follow after her. Christine had nodded and gone ahead as the sun sank lower in the sky. She moved through the palace, feeling tired and more than a bit sad. Her last day in Shalimar, she couldn't have asked for a more perfect day...but it would be her last day with Erik.

Christine walked through the shadowy corridors, suddenly aimless. She must have been more distracted than she'd thought, or perhaps it was Erik's natural stealth, but she hadn't noticed his presence until he grasped her shoulder from behind and turned her to face him. The corridor was dark, and his gloved hand remained on her shoulder.

"Fit for a queen," he had said as he fastened a beautiful silver bracelet over her wrist. He felt proud of himself for selecting the bracelet; he thought it elegant and charming, much like Christine herself.

Christine's heart sang at his words. _Me? Erik's queen?!_

Feeling her chest rise and fall with sudden passion, Christine decided that before her father took her away, she would ask Erik for the one thing she had longed for above all others. "Erik,"

The man had turned to her, the shadows of the corridor falling over him. His golden eyes gleamed down to her from the darkened hollows of his mask. She could make out the smirk on his exposed lips. He reached forward and tugged on a lock of her hair. It was a familiar gesture of affection, but somehow, given Christine's feelings and their intimate surroundings, Christine had taken his touch to mean something more.

"Yes, Christine?"

"There was something else I had hoped you would give me..." She said, hesitating. The confidence she'd gained in the marketplace was quickly falling away.

Erik stepped closer and moved his hands down to cradle her elbows, bringing her a step closer to him. "You can ask me for anything, my love."

_My love_. It was another affectionate nickname that Erik had for her, but Christine preferred it above all others. She often laid in bed at night, dreaming of the day when Erik would call her his love in the true sense- not in a teasing way, but with his lips brushing her own, his voice ragged as his body moved over hers...

Christine held on to the image of them in her mind, making love late in the night within his private bedchambers. She had to believe that Erik would make her his one day, that he cared for her the way that she did for him, that he loved her as a man loves his woman!

She took a deep breath and looked up to him. "I want you to kiss me."

It was out before she could stop the words, and Christine had frozen just after saying them. She stood still, her eyes boring into his, waiting for his reaction, whether he refused her as she dreaded, or if he would lean forward...

His mouth moved into a slight smirk, his eyes had warmed to her. "Yes, Christine."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and, like a fool, she had pursed her lips and raised her face to his, closing her eyes and awaiting Erik's kiss. Her mind was already in motion, moving them forward, from the corridor into his bedroom, from friend to lover in a mere few moments.

Her eyes opened as she felt Erik's lips touch her face. He had leaned in close, the subtle scent him invaded her senses, dizzying her for a moment. Erik had kissed her cheek, the way an uncle might kiss his favorite niece.

Embarassed, disappointed and angry, Christine had been unable to say anything, but her face said it all for her. Erik took a step back from her, confused. "Christine?"

Christine had shoved past him and ran down the hallway, not stopping until she'd reached her room.

Ashamed, Erik did not follow after her, and it would be years before they ever saw each other again.

* * *

There was no hope for the stupid dreams of a lovesick girl, but Christine missed Erik as her friend more than anything. She had promised that she would write to him, and so she set about typing a short message to let him know that she was safe, secure and learning to adjust to her new home. She didn't mention anything of what had happened in their last moments together, and she hoped that he would not demand she explain herself. 

On the other side of the world, so early that the sun had not yet risen, Erik read her message. His heart ached at her generic, empty words. He wanted to see her again, to be able to see her face as she spoke, and hold her hand. He missed her scent and her laugh. Reading her short, impersonal message made him miserable.

**Dear Erik,**

**America is very different from Shalimar; it is not bad here, but it is worlds away from our culture! To help me be accepted into my new school, a cousin of mine, Belinda, has promised to take me shopping for new clothes. If I were to wear my regular Shaliman robes, I think I might be teased, so as they say, 'When in Rome...' I shall do the same while in America, and do what they do.**

**So far I have been to the city several times for shows and I will be starting school next month. I hope all is well with you, and our blessed Shalimar. Will you please tell Kumar I said hello?**

**Yours, Christine.**

Erik set her e-mail aside and glanced out the window of his bedroom. Yes, he would corresspond with her, but his heart sank to think that Christine would soon grow bored with keeping in touch; he had been a fixture in her childhood and now she would wish to grow up without him. It was only natural that she leave the people of her childhood behind, but Erik felt as if he had lost something deep within him.

Erik dreaded the day when they would simply stop writing, and after that, when they might stop thinking of each other. He would become a mere memory to Christine, and not a good one, at that.

_I never should have kissed her! Idiot, you must have scared her half to death!_

He sighed, and thought of France. His new life was promised to him there- he wanted to start over. He kept a flat there for whenever he visited, and he relished the thought of the flat becoming his permanent home. Erik knew his hopes were unlikely, but he longed to find a wife, maybe even have children someday!

Erik had no choice but to focus on solving the problems at hand, rather than brooding over a girl half his age. It was futile, he knew. He determined that he would soon forget Christine, and the sooner he did, the sooner he could move on to the life that awaited for him in France.


	3. Forget Me Now

**Author's Note: Hope you like this chapter! Please read, review, and most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Christine read and then reread her latest e-mail from Erik before saving the message and printing it onto a sheet of paper. As usual, his note was short, practically an office memo. Christine rolled her eyes. This had gone on for weeks. 

**Christine,**

**Glad that you are continuing your education; your father told me that you will be attending a school in the same area where he grew up. Family is very important, as you know, but education is beyond priceless.**

**Take care,**

**Erik**

She took the printed sheet into her room and slipped the paper into a folder, where it joined about ten other sheets, all of them printed with Erik's notes to her, all of them just as short and impersonal as his latest. Christine set the folder aside on her nightstand and looked around her new room. The bedspread was a beautiful India print of bold jewel tones, blue, red and gold; a fitting compliment to the wrought iron bedframe. Obviously she had been thinking of Shalimar when she had selected the linens and furniture. All around her there were subtle reminders of what Christine considered her home country; bright sari curtains, small silk pillows, and tiny white tea candles were set upon the high windowsill.

There were few personal effects, only a few framed photos rested on the empty surface of her desk, along with a book of American landmarks- a special gift from Belinda, given to her in the hopes that she would become more interested in her new country. The plain white walls surrounding her were bare of the posters that might be found in any other sixteen year old's bedroom.

Strangely, Christine felt as if she was a stranger in her own skin.

The Daae family had been settled into their new home for over a month already, and yet Christine still felt out of place. Despite Belinda's enthusiasm and efforts to assimilate her, new clothes could only take a girl so far. She still followed the Shaliman customs, and still spoke with the tell-tale accent. She looked down at her feet, which were covered by stylish shoes, as were her legs, clad in tight dark jeans. She went over to her closet and glanced around the interior. Clothes of every sort were inside, hanging neatly. Many of the garments still had their tags attached.

Belinda had been thrilled to take Christine out for full afternoons of shopping, especially as the girl had a nose for sales, but Christine felt that, surely by now, she had enough clothes to last her for a time. A coat and a few sweaters would be necessary by the time winter came, but she felt happy to postpone that shopping trip until autumn. She was still adjusting to the American way of dressing; she hadn't worn a Shaliman robe since the day she had met Belinda. For now, she was content with the clothes she had. She assessed herself in the reflection of a hanging wall mirror. Christine frowned and tugged absently on a newly-pierced earlobe, knowing the true cause of her unhappiness was not the change in her clothes.

_I look different, but I'm still me...and I still want Erik..._

Sighing, Christine admitted to herself that she had felt miserable ever since she began the empty correspondence with the king. Her first note had been too superficial, and Erik had responded in kind. What was there to say? Erik was always stoic when it came to any subject that might embarass him; he wouldn't want to discuss her pathetic failed attempt at seducing him.

_What was I thinking? That if I threw myself at him he would kiss me, sweep me into his arms and claim me as his? He must have thought I was either desperate or insane...probably both! _

Their e-mails were few and far between- she knew it would be weeks before Erik wrote to her again, and Christine expected that his remarks would not venture farther than the weather in Shalimar.

Christine flopped onto her back, laying out on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, feeling unwanted, as if Erik's e-mails to her were typed out of pure obligation. She no longer served a purpose by amusing him, so what right did she have to make demands on his time? It felt to her that Erik, her friend and love, had gone away, and the thing that wrote to her might be some automatic computer reply- as empty and cold as Christine felt.

She still felt for him, and knew it was futile, but she could not stop herself.

Erik still came to her in dreams, whispering to her, touching her, his words and body reassuring and passionate. Christine's eyes slipped closed as she imagined Erik in the room with her, his golden eyes shining with love, his gloved fingers laced as if pleading to her. "I never should have let Gabriel take you away from me," he would say. "I want you, Christine. I want you all to myself, as my lover and friend, if only you would come back home with me..."

_Home._

Christine opened her eyes and sat up. Home was Shalimar, her charming little room in the palace that overlooked the east side of the court. Home was with Erik, but how could she have refused her father?

It was months ago now, when Gabriel had sat down and explained to her, very plainly, that he wanted Christine with him when he and Kalila left Shalimar for America.

"This isn't what I wanted for any of us," he had told her as they had walked through the gardens, as she and Erik had done so many times in secret. "But you know that Shalimar isn't the safest place anymore. I can't get the...the treatment I need here. My family wants to see me, Christine, and they want to see you too. It's...I know this isn't easy, nothing this important ever is, but I need you to come with me to America, to live."

"But for how long?" Christine had asked; she had suspected that her father would want to leave for a time while Shalimar was in such drastic unheaval, but selfishly, she only cared about how soon she could return to see Erik. In the back of her mind, she had always worried that if they were to leave, Erik might take a wife in their absence.

She pictured leaving, only to return to find Erik with a beautiful woman draped over him and several children at his feet. The imagined advances of this seductive phantom wife were enough to set Christine's teeth on edge.

"I don't know how long it would be, Christine, but it would be over a year or two at least. It just depends on what the doctors are able to do for me." Gabriel had said calmly. He had already had this conversation with Kalila. His wife had been sad, but supportive, and had already gone on to tell the members of her own family that she would soon be leaving them.

If only Christine would be as easy to deal with!

Gabriel had watched as the emotions warred for dominance on his daughter's face. He knew her well, and he recalled that her mother had been much the same way when confronted with such unpleasant news. Christine hated to be put into any position beyond her control, and in this instance she had absolutely no say in the matter.

Gabriel was inflexible- he already knew what Christine's choice would be, if he had given her the option to stay.

In the end, Christine had taken the news gracefully, storing away her resentment and anger at the unfairness of it all, and put on a brave, determined face for her father. Unlike Erik, Gabriel truly needed her. "All right, dad, when are we set to leave?"

That day had seemed like a lifetime ago, and Christine left her bedroom, catching her reflection in the glass of a framed picture in the hallway as she passed by. She looked the same as she had when Erik had last seen her, that last horrible scene in the Shaliman corridor, but she felt differently. It was as if her heart both ached and mourned for Erik now.

_It's just as well_, Christine thought. _Let my heart mourn for him and my stupid dream of being more than what we were...Erik can't love me, and I may never see him again- isn't it pointless to wish for something that can't happen? He barely cares enough to write, he probably hasn't thought of me at all. I need to forget him...I have to end this...I don't want to hurt anymore...  
_

Painfully, Christine came to the slow realization that she would have to put an end to her love for Erik by ending any connection with him- she could see no other way. Her thoughts had touched on this idea for weeks, but it was his latest note that pushed her over the edge, the straw that broke the camel's back. It became obvious to her that their correspondence would continue on this way, short little nothing-notes going back and forth, a slow, pointless exercise.

Why bother? Wouldn't it be better for them, and Christine especially, to just end it at once?

Erik had no place in her new life, he would become a ghost of memory, an old daydream. It was Erik that held her back from immersing herself into her new life; Christine had been clinging to the memories of him and the foolish hope that he might come to the house and save her, bring her back to Shalimar with him.

_Let him go_, she urged herself. _You can't devote any more time to wishing for him. Erik can't love you, Erik is gone, let him go..._

Christine glanced out the large window in the living room, thinking that this was best. There was a couple passing by on the sidewalk below, walking hand in hand. The man said something to make the young woman laugh, and they shared a quick kiss before hurrying on down the street. Surely, neither of them were haunted by dreams of what couldn't be. They seemed happy, intimate.

Christine wanted that; she had wanted that with Erik, but there was no hope for that now. The best way to get over the disappointment she felt was to forget the cause of it, she reasoned to herself. _It can't happen, you must move on_. She would not write to Erik, and she would refuse the urge to even think of him in the lonely nights sure to come. Sudden tears filled her eyes.

_I will move on into this new life and I won't let Erik hold me back!_

* * *

"And she is doing well?" 

Gabriel tapped his pencil on the leather inkblotter that rested over the surface of his desk, the house telephone cradled on his shoulder as he spoke. "Oh, yeah, Christine is doing great. My niece Belinda has sort of taken her under her wing. I can't tell you how many times I've come home to find them raving over some new shirt they bought, Christine is like a whole new person now."

"It is only natural that she change to adapt to her new surroundings, especially with encouragement from this cousin of hers."

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, wondering when he and Erik had ever spoken at length of Christine. This had to be a first. "I knew she had to change if she wanted to fit in, especially when she started school. She's as sweet and silly as she always was, but it's the way she dresses- Belinda is a model, and Christine is starting to take after her. It's just strange to see her this way, I can barely recognize her sometimes..."

"Is she happy there with you?" Erik prodded. He had no interest in the way Christine had decided to dress herself.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and wondered at the question._ Is Christine happy here?_

She was adjusting well, that was true. Belinda had gone above and beyond to help Christine adjust to her new life, inviting her out, taking her to the city, even bringing Christine along to meet her friends- both he and Kalila were grateful for the blonde's help. Gabriel knew Christine missed Erik deeply, but he would be damned if he revealed that to the man over the telephone.

"Yes, I think she's happy. It's worlds away from everything she knew in Shalimar, but I think she's strong enough not to let any homesickness get to her for long. She's settled in and making the best of it. She'll start school soon, a little later in the month, and then I'm sure the new friends will start pouring in." Gabriel said, ending on a laugh.

The other line was silent. Gabriel frowned. _Damn connection, has it dropped the call again?_

"Erik? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. It pleases me to hear that Christine is adjusting so well. I was sure that she would. She wouldn't be free to talk, would she?" The question was aloof; Erik sounded as if he didn't care one way or the other, but Gabriel knew better.

He put his hand over the receiver and called to Christine. She had been in the kitchen with Kalila, helping to make dinner. Gabriel watched as she approached his desk, her mouth curved into a glossy half-smile. He'd forgotten that Christine had taken to wearing makeup. "I have Erik on the phone, do you want to talk to him?"

Christine's smile faded at the mention of the man's name, and her eyes widened. For one moment she appeared terrified, but then she visibly swallowed a gulp of air and took a deep breath. She looked back up to her father and said, in a clear, careless voice, "No. I don't want to talk to him."

As simple as that, she turned and went back to the kitchen.

He couldn't have been more confused than if Christine had just come into the room and started to tapdance. It wasn't that Gabriel wanted to discourage their friendship, but what had happened to make Christine refuse the chance to speak with the man she'd been so attached to only weeks before?

He thought for a moment. Perhaps his daughter just wanted some distance from her masked friend. Surely it would make things easier for Christine to adjust to her new life if she didn't have Erik ringing the house, wanting to bring up all the memories she had of Shalimar?

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Sorry, Erik, you just missed her. Belinda is taking her to see _The Producers _today. It's a show that runs on Broadwa-"

"I know what it is. Thank you, Gabriel. I hope that the house is to your satisfaction. I must go. Please, give my regards to Kalila and your daughter."

The connection was severed. Blankly, Gabriel stared at the telephone and listened to the irritating dial tone.

* * *

Erik glared at his telephone. Did Gabriel think he was an idiot? That he wouldn't recognize an out and out lie when he heard one? Nevermind that Gabriel was on the other side of the world, Erik was still able to detect the hesitation, the rapid speech of someone thinking on their feet. 

_The Producers?_

Erik snorted. _If you want to lie, Gabriel, I can't stop you, but you are a journalist- couldn't you have come up with something a bit more clever?  
_

So Gabriel hadn't wished him to speak with Christine; Erik could understand. The man had been slightly reluctant to allow their friendship from the beginning. Erik was no fool, he had known how suspicious it had seemed to the others in the palace when he and Christine had been discovered to spend so much time together- the differences in their ages had not helped matters at all. Gabriel was protective, but why did he lie just then?

_What could have been the harm in allowing me to speak to her on the phone?_

Erik paced his office, smirking slightly at the pleasant French wallpaper he'd chosen in direct defiance of what Shaliman decor had been on the walls previously. He had already proven himself to be a different, better ruler than his father. He relished the act of slighting Bhaskar, throwing doubt and blame all over the man's legacy. History will remember the greed and lust that motivated his father's reign, leaving the man as an unpleasant memory.

_To think, Shalimar may be avanged by the dead king's half-blood bastard!_ Even Erik had to laugh at the irony.

Erik glanced out the window to the gardens below; naturally, he thought of Christine and all the times they had walked the trails together in secret. He felt put out, as if he had been punished just for wishing to speak with the girl. Certainly they did not speak through the damn computer! Christine's first message had told him nothing of how she truly felt about her new situation; Erik feared that Christine was lost to him.

After the way she had reacted to a simple kiss...

Had she told her father? Gabriel hadn't indicated anything out of the ordinary, but Christine had run from him that night, crying!

Erik slipped off his mask and rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted to speak with Christine, if not face to face then at least voice to voice. He wanted to explain to her that he meant her no harm, he had only done what he'd thought she'd wanted him to do.

_"I want you to kiss me."_

He had, hadn't he? A soft kiss, high on her cheek...so why had Christine become so upset? Erik shuddered as he recalled the way she had looked at him. He'd felt like an animal under her eyes; as if he was guilty of something terrible, but he couldn't understand what he had done to hurt her.

Christine had seemed so angry with him, her thin body had pulsed with rage as he'd held her. Erik strained his mind, trying to understand what had gone wrong, what he'd done to make her visibly _hate_ him. Christine hadn't thought that he would try to do more, had she? That Erik might kiss her, the way a man kissed a woman? Kiss her, hold her tight against him, demand what she was not willing to give?

_Had she thought I would try to...?_

Erik returned to his desk and slumped into the chair, feeling dirty and ashamed of himself all over again. He wanted to talk to Christine, but time was already slipping away. They had not seen each other in months. If they would ever speak again, it had to be soon, or else the subject would drop between them and they would simply move on with this unspoken thing between them.

_Move on to what? You must have forgotten that Christine is on the other side of the world, and you aren't likely to see her again!_

Erik felt his eyes droop; he was a very busy, very important man. One look at his desk showed several important contracts and documents that awaited his signatures. Since his father's death and Erik's ascent to the kingship, the nation had erupted into violence and riots as one corruption after another was revealed to the public by the hungry press. Erik was making slow but sure progress; despite his long-standing resentment of the people that had so reviled him, he was determined to put the country right if he was able. Here he had an opportunity to redeem himself and the memory of his mother, to right the wrongs of his father.

A fragile nation rested upon him, yet he had spent weeks brooding over one simple child! He shook his head. _I can't keep doing this- I think of Christine more than I think of the people here! I need to forget about the girl, and that liar Gabriel, for that matter! This has to end..._

Together, Erik and Christine had unknowingly made the decision to erase each other from their lives, falsely content to forget each other.

Though deep regret was felt by them both, it could not overcome their determination.


	4. Abdicated Brother

**Author's Note: Please read, review, and most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Time had a way of escaping those who were constantly focused. When the distractions that add color to daily life fade away, time is condensed. Days and weeks pass in the blink of an eye. Months and eventual years go by without notice. If a man's mind is concentrated deeply enough, he can become deaf and blind to all else, mastering the task at hand. 

Erik had sacraficed himself to the people of Shalimar.

He'd devoted himself to quelling public unrest, rooting out those that had blackmailed and exploited the powerless, punishing the criminals that has masqueraded themselves as advisors and philanthropists. The late king's cabinet had been steeped with corruptionl; scandal after scandal had been leaked to the public. Violence had errupted in the capitol city. Gabriel had been right to leave; for several months, Shalimar had become a dangerous place. Rumors of attempted assassinations on both Erik and Kumar had circulated, but thankfully they had been spared.

Rather than allow others to play him as the scapegoat, Erik had led a campaign of immediate action. It was not the glory of the nation that he sought. Seeing the pain resulting from the greed of his late father, Erik had known that he no longer mattered. His dreams of coasting along until Kumar was old enough to take over were washed away. There would be no new life for Erik, no lover, no wife, until he righted the wrongs of Bhaskar's reign.

Working nineteen hour days had become part of a normal routine; a fragile nation rested on Erik's shoulders and he would be damned if he let it crumble because of his weakness. He pushed everything else away from him until the only thing left to him was the recovery of Shalimar. His efforts were seen and understood by the people; much of the unrest had come to an end in the years since he had been placed as ruler. The citizens recognized the changes that had come about under Erik's devoted rule- he was cheered in the country now, whether at his old offices in the embassy or when he went to the rural areas.

"Has anyone ever told you that you work too hard?"

Erik looked up from a document to see Kumar stride into his office, looking about as smug and carefree as any young man. Erik's mouth lifted in a slight smirk. "Only every hour of every day."

Kumar raised his thick black brows. "Perhaps that is because you work every hour of every day. I'm not a boy anymore, Erik. You might want to think of taking a vacation. I've been in training for years now, ever since our father died. You know it's time. I'm ready to be king."

Erik regarded his younger half-brother as he came to sit before his desk. His tired eyes took in the face that he was surprised to find had matured greatly in the years that had passed. Kumar was right; it was a man that stared back at him, not a boy. Erik blinked slowly, and not for the first time, he felt the past few years of sleepless nights catch up to him. All at once, he felt tired and heavy.

He hated to admit it, but he knew Kumar was right.

The loss of his work momentum usually gave exhaustion an opportunity to descend upon him, as it did now. Erik took a deep breath and felt his stomach growl. The thought of handing over all of the stress that went with his position was a tempting one. Erik had been working nearly non-stop for years. When had he last eaten a meal meant to be savored, rather than some few tasteless morsels devoured in the midnight hours while going over paperwork? When had he last had a free day to himself, a day without meetings and negotiations? When had he last had a full night's rest? When had he last felt a woman's softness and heat?

Erik wondered at these questions and found that he could not remember. "I have been working hard...these reports need attention, and the laws..."

Kumar smiled slightly. "Have you forgotten that I've passed laws before? I've done all of the same reports that you have, I am no novice, am I? If I may say, Erik, you have not been looking well. A nation cannot rest on one man as it has with you these past years. You've appointed a cabinet full of trustworthy men and yet you have not allowed them to act!"

Erik bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment. "I know, I know. I don't want you to think that I am power hungry, Kumar, I only...I can't let what father did to this nation happen again...I hadn't known how horrible things were at first, but then when I found out, I had to stop it..."

Kumar leaned forward in his chair. "It won't. No one knew of the greed and corruption of fatheir's reign until after he died- the Shaliman people have seen the lengths to which you've gone to correct his mistakes. You are pushing yourself too hard, Erik. Soon you will be free of this burden- it never should have fallen on you in the first place."

Erik managed a small smile and glanced at the clock on his desk. It was near to three o'clock in the morning. He sighed. "I have given everything I have; we need to speak of my abdication. Arrange the ceremony, call on all the government heads. This is your birthright, not mine." He stopped himself then, recalling the word. _Birthright? Gabriel..._

Kumar shook his head and ran a hand through his hair as Erik commonly did. "Even now you want a political discussion, to arrange a ceremony and call a government hearing! Do you ever stop working, Erik?"

"Not if I can help it."

"That is obvious just from looking at you. You are too pale and thin. Leave the reports, I will take care of things from now on. I could not have asked for a more wonderful brother, Erik, but I am ordering you on vacation for your own good. You look near ill from the strain you've brought onto yourself."

Erik stood from his desk. "You're ordering me?"

Kumar stood as well. "Yes, Erik, I am."

The younger man's voice was firm, his stance was challenging. Erik closed his eyes. He had known that the time of abdication was approaching- he had imagined a ceremony, a governmental declaration and much political involvement. He was strangely thankful that the transfer of power was so subtle. One moment he had been the king, slaving and starving himself for the benefit of people that had once reviled him, and now he was taking orders from his younger brother. So be it. He was done, far too tired to argue.

His tired gaze moved to the door that led into his private chambers. His large bed was just on the other side, calling to him.

Erik sighed. "All right, then. Fine. You are the king now, I will see you in the morning."

Kumar's smiled brightened the room, and for the first time in years, Erik slept for a full night.

* * *

When Erik woke, he did not leave his bed for over an hour. His mind was muddled, it had been the first time he'd slept for longer than five hours in one night. He stretched his body and laid back in the pillows, half asleep and hoping for this stolen slice of comfort never to end. 

A scent wafted to him and Erik forced himself into full alertness. He reached for a mask off the nightstand and slipped it over his face. After dressing hastily, Erik went to the main door of his chambers. A silver food trolley with gilded edges rested just on the other side. His stomach clenched painfully at the scent, reminding him that he had not had a full meal for the better part of five years.

Erik brought the trolley further into his room and lifted the lid. A note from Kumar was tucked beside a large covered plate.

**'I thought you might like a full meal for once- I will have you shot if you attempt any work today. **

**-K.'**

_Well, at least Kumar has kept his sense of humor_, Erik thought as he uncovered the plates to find various meats, cheeses and sweetbreads for his late breakfast.

Erik ate, and pondered his situation for a very long time. Kumar had unofficially taken over as king and Erik felt more than a little relived to know that the Shaliman people were in good hands. His brother was a good man; honest and hard working, he was not like their father, he would not be seduced by petty greed and sacrafice his people.

This burden of kingship that Erik had so often disparaged had, in time, become a cause worth fighting for. He had had no idea the levels of corruption that had tainted his father's rule; when Erik had discovered the scandals and schemes that had been born from such greed, he had felt himself become galvanized into action.

It had taken years to gain the people's trust, but Erik had not given up. His endless hours of labor had finally begun to pay off and the country underwent great change for the better. Education and women's rights had improved greatly, along with national healthcare and a sharp decrease in the poverty rate. As time had passed, and Erik witnessed the growing happiness of the people, he'd felt a growing satisfaction with himself.

He had done what he'd set out to do; he had devoted himself to righting all the wrongs of his father.

Now that his work was nearly over, Erik didn't know what to do with himself. France awaited him, as it always had. He had a few members of family there; his mother had not had the chance to remarry before she had been killed, but Erik recalled his uncle and the cousins he hadn't seen for well over two decades.

He was torn; here he had been longing to return to France for years, but he had also grown to love Shalimar. Erik sighed and ran a hand through his bed-mussed hair._ I can only choose one home...I must decide, but I'll leave that decision for later..._

Happily, Erik finished his breakfast and tumbled back into bed.

* * *

Several hours further into the afternoon, Erik was found dressed for the day, wondering what to do with his time now that he was at least partially free of his kingship. He'd eaten again and then rested, feeling very much like a great lazy cat, but now he was alert and feeling slightly useless. What was he to do, now that he was no longer a king? 

Somehow, Erik's feet led him into the palace gardens. He had not been there for a very long time. With a strange sense of nostalgia, Erik moved through the trails, heading toward the small fountain where he had so often met with Christine. The fountain had served as a secret place where they could meet under the coverage of the surrounding dense foliage- no one had seen them there, it was as if they had been secret lovers.

Erik shook the thought away. _No, never that!_

He fought against the memory, but a scene of several years ago unfolded within his mind.

It had been years ago, a mere few days after Christine's fifteenth birthday. There had been a small celebration with her family and a scattering of her friends from school. Erik had been away to France at the time, but he had returned afterwards, bearing gifts for his young friend.

Erik had been idly searching for Christine, when he'd found her in the center of the eastern courtyard. He had paused just outside the palace doorway, watching her. There was a small, colorful bird resting on her shoulder. Erik recognized it; Kalila had confided to him that she would gift Christine the small pet for her birthday. He smiled absently as he watched her gently play with the small parrot; Christine coaxed the bird to stand on her outstretched fingers and then turned her hand, having the bird hang upside down.

Her laughter had been music on the air.

Erik moved forward and called out to her, "Christine, happy birthday!"

The girl had turned and her smile grew wider at seeing him. They started toward each other, meeting in the middle of the court. "Erik, hello! How was France?" She'd asked him excitedly. The bird was well trained, and flew to a low tree branch on the edge of the court. It would return to its open cage when it grew hungry.

"The same as it was last time, Christine. Boring without you, of course, but then anywhere I go would be boring without you." He had told her, unknowingly stirring the hopes that he would come to love her.

"Will you take me to France with you someday?" Christine had asked. Her heart swelled at the thought, her mind dreaming of Erik escorting her all about the great city of Paris.

_How romantic! How foolish! How blind!_

Erik had nodded as he pulled her gift from the breast pocket of his jacket. "Christine, when you are older, and if your father will allow it, I would be happy to take you to France with me. But for now, happy birthday." He had said, dropping a pink crystal necklace into her outstretched hands. "I hope you like that, I bought it at a curio shop across the street from the loft I keep in Paris."

"Erik, I love it! Oh, it's beautiful," Christine had crooned, cradling the nexklace. Erik took her shoulders, then turned her and Christine lifted her hair so that he could fasten the thin chain about her throat. She had thrown her arms around his neck, hugging him, and had then run off to show Kalila, who had been at the end of the court, carrying on a friendly discussion with the king's advisors.

Erik smiled after her, hoping that they might be able to spend time together later on that evening.

Bhaskar had watched the entire exchange with shrewd eyes, and had waited until Christine had gone before approaching Erik on his own. "Son," he called to him.

Golden eyes had narrowed as he moved toward the lanky young man. "Don't bother to call me that, Bhaskar." Erik did not like to be reminded that he shared blood with the king; his only reason for remaining in Shalimar had been to stay with the Daae family.

The king had taken no obvious offense to Erik's rebuff, and simply smiled. "She's quite pretty."

Erik had frowned. "Who is?"

"That girl of yours, Christine."

Erik's frown deepened, suddenly feeling protective. "I suppose, but she isn't mine."

"I could speak to her father for you, if you want."

Bhaskar had tolerated Erik for several years, feeling that he had earned his son's cynical barbs and his outright disrespect. He was no longer the carefree youth he had been when he had dallied with Erik's mother, but he still recognized a man's needs. Despite their circumstances, they were still a father and son, and Bhaskar knew he owed Erik a great deal. Why not gift Erik with the girl he so obviously cared for?

Erik had not understood at first. "Speak to Gabriel about what?"

"To have the girl given to you, of course."

Erik had shaken his head, repulsed. "Don't be ridiculous. Christine is only a girl. She isn't meant to be given to anyone."

Bhaskar had taken the warning, and retreated back a few steps. Still, he reminded Erik, "She is only a girl now, and adores you. What's to stop you from taking her when she is a woman?"

Erik ticked his head to the side, returning to the present.

He sat down heavily on the stone bench and thought of Christine, Kalila and Gabriel. Certainly, that small family had been his closest friends, and yet he had lost touch over the years. Perhaps now that he was free, he might make an effort to reconnect.


	5. Reappearances

**Author's Note: Long chapter this time, I felt like it would interrupt things to break this chapter in half or even into thirds, so I just put it all up at the same time instead. Please read, review, and most of all, enjoy...**

* * *

Belinda stared out of her bedroom window, looking but not seeing anything that went on down below. Her eyes were tired, red and slightly swollen. Her face had taken on a gaunt look; too many sleepless nights in the past few weeks, too little food. Short blonde locks hung about her in distressed waves. Belinda didn't care. She had no interest in trying to make herself appear more stylish. Now was not the time for glamour. Now was the time for mourning. 

Gabriel had died.

After weeks in the hospital, attatched to tubes and beeping machines, he had died.

Belinda smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in her skirt, and sighed deeply. Her uncle had been a wonderful man, but his body had been dying from the inside out- a fate no man, no matter how great, could survive. She tucked a lock behind her ear and glanced behind her down the hallway, to Christine's room. The door was shut, the room beyond it silent as the grave.

Her younger cousin had not spoken for days, perhaps even before Gabriel's body had finally given its last breath. Certainly she hadn't said anything at the funeral. Not a tear had been shed, not a sob had escaped her throat. Belinda knew Christine had to be in shock, or maybe she was just so filled with sorrow that she had no tears to give. Belinda didn't know, she could not see her cousin's thoughts. She suspected that Christine wished only to grieve alone, without any interruption.

Death had never happened in the family before; to Belinda, death was a far off thing. It could occur to nameless, faceless people; statistics in war, car accidents, different illnesses, but not within her family, no one close to her would ever die!

She felt like an idiot for never having felt the loss of family before, but she was feeling it now. She called up the memory of Gabriel at a summer party that her own parents had hosted a few years before; he'd been so funny, joking and making friends left and right. He'd been so _alive!_

Belinda hadn't understood the reason that her uncle had brought his family back from Shalimar, and as time had gone on, she'd simply never asked. At first, Belinda had only assumed that Gabriel had wanted Christine to know what it was like to live in America, to get to know her family and her country. Belinda had known nothing of the civil unrest at the time when they had fled, the danger there, and she had known nothing of her uncle's cancer until the signs had become too obvious to ignore.

For years Gabriel had appeared as the picture of health to Belinda's eyes, but then, she hadn't lived with him and hadn't seen the man at his weakest and most miserable as Christine and Kalila had. More often than not, she would only greet him for a moment before dashing out the door with Christine following right behind her. Off to some movie or party, off to go shopping for more things they didn't need; frivolous, worthless things...

_I should have tried to get to know him better_, she thought with a deep, painful pang of regret. _I'll never get the chance now..._

Belinda's own mother was inconsolable, as were her grandparents over the loss of their only son. Kalila had stood by Gabriel until the very bitter end, her eyes sorrowful, but her face giving nothing away. Belinda wondered if Kalila had dealt with many deaths in Shalimar. As of now, her aunt was behaving much like Christine, preferring to mourn Gabriel in solitude, within the seclusion of the house they had shared.

She took a deep breath.

Belinda could never go to Christine and say, "Life goes on" or "Gabriel's in a better place now". She was sure that such sentiments would only earn her a slap in the face. Christine had no patience for soft, frilly words. Closure would not come until Gabriel's will was read. A notaire had informed Christine that her father had included letters to several family members and a few friends, all of them meant to be read at the time of his disbursement of assets.

Belinda had a letter waiting for her as well. _What could Gabriel have to say to me?_

She felt glad that she and Christine were living together now. Belinda could keep an eye on Christine this way, just as she had when the Daae family had arrived from Shalimar. That was something, at least. She wanted to help Christine, but what could she say to someone that had just lost their father?

_Was Gabriel dead on that last day in the hospital, or had he died before that, when the chemo started to fail?_ She wondered. Gabriel hadn't seemed alive to her during the few weeks preceding his death, with beeping machines surrounding his bed and IVs in his arms. Belinda shuddered slightly, recalling his diminished appearance. He'd lost so much weight and hair, he'd had difficulty breathing and his speech had been little more than a raspy whisper.

It had felt to her that Gabriel had died far sooner than the doctors had declared him so.

A knock at the front door interrupted her maudlin thoughts, and she was thankful for the distraction. Even if it was a solicitor, Belinda would be grateful just to speak with someone on a subject other than Gabriel and his illness. She smoothed her hair back as she crossed the living room and went to the door.

Her heart skittered slightly as she opened it to find several men on the other side. All of them were imposing, broad-shouldered, tall, and grim-faced. Belinda's breath caught in her throat. One of the men would be intimidating enough on their own, but five at once?

"Y-yes?" She prompted, hoping they didn't notice the hesitation in her voice.

One of the men stepped forward. His slick black hair was combed back off his face, nearly brushing the collar of his shirt. Belinda assessed him closely while keeping the other men in her peripheral vision. One could never be too careful, especially in New York. "I am sorry that we have intruded, especially at such a difficult time-"

Belinda felt fear rush down her spine. "What do you know about that?" She demanded, shifting the door so that only a few inches remained open. What she would do if the men rushed at her, she had no idea. Fight back, of course, but she was 120 lbs. soaking wet; any one of the men could knock her back without a thought.

The man that had spoken raised his hands. "Forgive me. I did not mean to-"

"Look, who are you and what do you want?" Belinda demanded, sudden adrenaline and impatience making her both bold and rude.

The man sighed. "Americans," he muttered. Then, he straightened his back and said, quite formally, "I am Montar Kalik, head bodyguard to the royal king of Shalimar."

Belinda's eyes widened. "Shalimar?"

Montar nodded. "Yes, miss. Our king has come here to pay his respects to the departed Gabriel Daae."

Belinda opened the door wider, but she was still cautious. "I don't...I'm sorry, but Gabriel's funeral is over, you're too late."

Montar nodded again, while the other men remained silent and unmoving. They might have been nothing more than muscular statues. "That is understood. Our king had been in contact with Daae for months before his death. As was his wish, a final message had been sent to our king through his personal attourney. The letter arrived only days ago."

Belinda felt nervous, and didn't know what to say. "I...um...can I see the letter?"

A sudden movement from the left drew her eyes to the other men, who had parted slightly to make room for another. This man was shorter and leaner than the massive bodyguards, but his size did not interest Belinda nearly as much as the man's mask.

_Why is he wearing that thing? What is going on with these people?_ She wondered in irritation.

This new man, whoever he was, rattled off some quick words to Montar. The language was Shaliman; Christine had taught her a few simples words and a few more mature phrases (all regarding sex), and though Belinda didn't understand what the masked man had said, his message needed no precise translation.

Whatever Gabriel had written was private and meant to stay that way.

The man in the mask turned to look at her, his golden eyes assessing her with curiosity. Belinda frowned at him and turned back to Montar. "Well, I understand that Gabriel wrote to your king and it was very loyal to come all the way here to pay respects, but I don't know what you want."

Montar inclined his head slightly. "That will be between the king and Christine Daae."

Belinda blinked. "Christine?" Her mind raced for a moment. Hadn't Christine lived in the Shaliman palace with Gabriel and Kalila? It was difficult to remember- Christine rarely spoke of Shalimar once she'd started school, and that had been years ago. Belinda hadn't wanted to upset her younger cousin's homesickness, so she'd left the subject alone.

"She does reside here, does she not?" Montar prodded.

Belinda cleared her throat. "Yes, she does-"

"And is she here?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Our king must speak with her."

Belinda huffed, "Look, now is not a good time," she grated, thinking of the silent ghost her cousin had become. The last time she'd checked, Christine had locked herself in her room to grieve on her own. Belinda didn't want her cousin to be bothered by anyone, not even royalty! "She's not in a mood to see people, all right? You'll just have to come back later, maybe next week would be a better time for her-"

Montar took a step forward and put his hand on the door, preventing her from shutting it. "I'm afraid that I must implore, miss."

* * *

Belinda glared at the masked man sitting across the kitchen table from her. After Montar's intimidation, Belinda had relented that one man could stay and speak with Christine, but the others would have to wait outside. It was a show of her own pride that had been behind the demand, but she would be damned if she let some strangers walk all over her in her own home! 

Now though, she regretted her choice. The man that had been elected to stay behind was just as intimidating than Montar, perhaps even more so. Belinda crossed her arms more tightly about herself, feeling unjustly scrutinized by his strange golden eyes. They reflected the light in the same way that a cat's did in the night. It was unnerving, especially with the fact that he wore a molded black mask, concealing all but his mouth and chin.

_Who is this clown?_ Belinda wondered in irritation.

She could only wonder, she could not ask him herself as she was reasonably sure that the man spoke no English. He hadn't said anything to make her think otherwise.

Belinda had already gone to her cousin's room, only to find that Christine had stepped into the shower. With the hot spray going full blast, Belinda knew that Christine wouldn't be able to hear her. So, Belinda and this bizarre man sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Christine to at least bridge the language barrier and then explain to Belinda what was going on.

The man's mouth curved slightly and his head tilted toward her.

Belinda rolled her eyes at him. "What are you smiling at?"

Erik's eyes shined at her; in a strange way, he was glad to be alone with Christine's cousin. None of Gabriel's letters had gone into far detail about this girl, this Belinda Clare. His eyes raked her once more as they had when he had stepped forward to urge Montar. She was willowy; very thin but not painfully so. Her platinum hair was cut into a strange jagged mop that reinforced his memories; Christine had told him, years ago, that her cousin was a successful print model.

She was dressed now in a denim skirt that reached the caps of her knees and a deep chocolate sweater. Warm tights sheathed her legs, and tall boots covered her feet. He supposed that she was stylish, but Erik was oblivious to fashion. He thought that Belinda was very attractive, or at least she would be, if she didn't carry such grief in her eyes. Another pang lanced through his chest, the pain was familiar by now, an unwelcome reminder that Erik couldn't always control the world around him. He'd known of Gabriel's illness for years, but there had been nothing he could do to help.

Erik had bought Gabriel the townhouse to save the man at least one worry, but what good had it done? Gabriel's illness had steadily grown worse over the years, no matter what methods the doctors had tried. In the end, the illness had won, as it so often had with countless others the world over.

He sighed slightly and glanced at Belinda once more. She did not know his name, nor that he was king. Erik and instructed Montar not to tell her anything; if she knew he was the king then she might start to grovel over him as if he was a celebrity, a thing that Erik could not stand. He was tired from traveling and also grieved at his friend's death, not to mention that he felt out of sorts being in an unfamiliar country, but Erik didn't wish to give up. He had come all this way, and Gabriel had left him a task to attend to; Erik would not disappoint his friend, he took this new responsibility in stride.

His heart fluttered strangely; it was all Erik could to not to shove Belinda aside to see Christine. It had been over five full years since they had last seen each other. Five years! Erik blinked rapidly behind his mask, wondering how she would react to his reappearance. He glanced down to his gloved hand, and flexed his long fingers, splaying them against the dark surface of the table.

_What will she think of me, to just appear in her life again?_ Erik wondered. They had parted so badly in person that night in the palace, and from there the few short e-mails that had passed between them had fizzled until there had been no contact at all. Her reaction to him was anyone's guess.

"Christine doesn't usually take this long," Belinda said suddenly. Obviously she had grown bored sitting there with him in awkward silence. "Usually she's pretty quick in the shower, but she hasn't left her room in days. I can't blame her for wanting to take her time in there."

Erik watched as she rose from her chair and headed into the kitchen. The blonde bent to reach into the refrigerator and retrieved a can of cola. "Would you like anything?" She asked him, gesturing to the kitchen. Belinda didn't know what the usual drink was in Shalimar, certainly not Dr. Pepper, her soda of choice, but she figured it would be polite to ask.

The man only shrugged his shoulders and watched as she moved about the kitchen, preparing a few snacks for them to share while waiting for Christine. Belinda shook her head slightly and wondered how her family had been pulled into such a strange situation. A king had come all the way from Shalimar just to see her cousin! The thought was rattling; perhaps Christine had known the king better than she'd thought.

Certainly the man wouldn't cross the world for some acquaintence from years ago- Christine had to have been a child the last time they'd seen each other. Nothing was making any sense to her, but Belinda wanted to be a good hostess nonetheless- if she offended this man it might become an international incident for all she knew, so she resolved to behave.

While the lovely Belinda moved about the kitchen, Erik idly took in his surroundings. It was a pleasant apartment on the high end of Manhattan suites, he knew, and far beyond what a pair of young women could normally afford. Erik wondered where the money was coming from. _Lovers, perhaps_. Erik shook his head. It was enough that he had to see Christine in this way, thier first visit in years brought on by Gabriel's death. He didn't want to think of Christine with a man.

She was too...what, too young? Christine had to be in her twenties by now, Erik realized. Of course he knew how old she was, he had thought of the girl with every passing of her birthday since their separation, but the image he had carried of Christine was still that of a young lady. In his heart and mind, Christine had not aged a day; she was still that playful child, so teasing and light...

He heard a thump in the far corner of the apartment and he stood up abruptly. Erik made to move down the hallway to find out what had happened, but Belinda cut him off. "Where do you think you're going?" She demanded. Erik stopped, ready to push the blonde out of his way.

_I cannot lay hands on this girl- I've waited years to see Christine, I can wait a few more minutes_, he reasoned, forcing himself to calm down. Somewhat sulkily, Erik took a few steps back from her.

Belinda held her ground, blocking the man from barging into Christine's room. _Who does this guy think he is, does he honestly think I'll let a complete stranger go stomping around my apartment? _Belinda wondered. She turned from the man and went over to Christine's door, only to find it locked again. "Christine? Are you all right, sweetie?" She called.

"I'm...I'm all right, I just knocked over my binders." Came Christine's muffled reply.

"Oh, ok. Um, listen, Christine I have someone out here that wants to see you."

There was a long pause.

"Belinda, could you send them away, please? I don't want to talk to anyone about-"

"I can't do that, Christine."

An irritated sigh. "Why not?"

Belinda glanced over her shoulder down the hallway, back toward the man. He was seated at the high kitchen table once more, his golden eyes shining eager. "Um, well, he's kind of determined and I don't think he speaks English. Will you just come out here and talk to him? It's something to do with your dad and Shalimar and a letter."

There was rapid movement on the other side of the door, and Christine reached out to pull Belinda inside her bedroom. "What are you talking about?"

Annoyed now, Belinda recounted everything that Montar had told her, and that one of the men was now awaiting her in the kitchen. "While you've been locked in here, I've basically been playing hostess to some guy that thinks it's Halloween. So get your ass out there and find out what he wants!" Belinda said, shoving Christine toward the door.

Christine dug in her heels. "No, I can't!"

Belinda growled, her impatience growing. "Why not?"

"Well, look at me!"

Christine was in her robe, fresh from the shower. Her hair was still damp. Belinda blinked. "Oh, right. Well get dressed and be quick about it, will you? I kind of wanted to go out for awhile, get some air. Maybe get some coffee, do you want anything?"

Belinda's Starbucks addiction was the stuff of legend, but Christine shook her head. "No, nothing. Thank you. Perhaps it would be better if you aren't here when I see him..." Christine blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind. The past few weeks had been torture for her, she felt as if her entire world had gone out of focus. _Erik is here? Is this real or just another dream?_

Belinda watched as her cousin's face grew paler by the second. "Christine, are you all right? Listen, I can tell him to leave if you don't want to see him-"

The brunette shook her head. "No, no...I want to see him, it's just been such a long time," she said as she shrugged off her robe and strode across the room, naked as the day she was born, and headed into her closet.

Belinda turned her back as Christine changed her clothes. "I really wish you would warn me when you strip down like that," she muttered. Then, "So what do you want me to tell him?"

Christine stuck her head out of the closet and glanced around her room, nervous and full of a new anticipation. "You don't have to tell him anything. You could just send him in and then you can go out for coffee if you want."

Belinda raised her brows. "You want me to send a strange man in here and then leave the two of you alone?"

Christine nodded. "I know it sounds strange, but please, trust me."

"It's not you that I don't trust."

Christine smiled. "Erik would never hurt me, he was my friend and he is the king"

Belinda's jaw dropped for the first time in her life. "That man out there is the king of Shalimar? I've been keeping _royalty_ in my kitchen for the past half hour?"

Her cousin nodded as she pulled on a shirt. "It would appear so. Now, could you please send him to me?"

Stunned, Belinda nodded and left her bedroom. Carefully, she approached the masked man at the table. Erik watched as she came closer to him, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping slightly. "Christine says you can go on back," she said shakily, gesturing to the room down the hallway.

Smirking, Erik stood from the table. "Thank you, Belinda."

Belinda had made it halfway down the block before it sunk in that the man had been able to speak English the entire time.

* * *

Erik felt his heart flutter and then begin to pound with each step as he came closer to the door, the last obstacle that separated him from Christine. He'd understood Belinda perfectly, and Erik reached for the doorknob to let himself into the room. It was not what he'd expected; somehow, Erik had pictured Christine's room to be a replica of the nursery room she'd kept in the Shaliman palace. That had been the only room he'd ever seen, as he had never seen the room she'd kept when she was older. It would have been inappropriate for him to have gone into that room, and furthermore he'd never had much of an interest in the bedrooms of teenage girls. 

This room was that of a young woman, Erik realized now. A large full bed rested against the far wall, covered with a deep crimson coverlet shot through with gold embroidery. Erik thought it looked quite inviting, but he shook the thought away, and moved to a cherrywood vanity table that was placed close to the window.

Cosmetics and perfume were scattered over its surface. Feeling curious, Erik chose a purple diamond-shaped bottle; the room was empty, and the bottle was tempting to his eyes. The scent that drifted to him was fresh and light. It also awoke a certain hunger in Erik that had nothing to do with food. He wasn't up on women's perfumes; he liked a woman to smell like a woman, aroused and eager for possession. Erik blinked and set the bottle back down.

Where had that thought come from? What was wrong with him?

It was just the turns his life his taken, that's all it was. With Kumar handling most of the responsibilities of kingship, Erik had been left on his own to recover from the years of stress he'd brought onto himself; he'd eaten, slept and rested. There were other needs that he had not attended to, which he now regretted. Erik had not been with a woman in several months. Had he grown so desperate that the scent of Christine's perfume was enough make his thoughts wander?

Erik frowned. He'd come into this room for her, so where was she?

They had things to discuss.

There was a shifting sound and Erik turned to find a woman standing just over a threshold that led into a large walk-in closet. She was tall and thin, but not without a definite tone of strength. Long waves of dark hair fell over her shoulders, framing a pale face, nearly colorless save for large bright eyes. Erik remembered those eyes.

They stared at each other for several long moments, but it was Christine that broke it.

"Erik," she said, and moved to him. Her arms slipped around him and she brought him close, tucking her head just beneath his chin. The same scent from the perfume bottle wafted to him; it was different this time, the perfume blended with the subtle scent of Christine herself.

Awkwardly, as if in a daze, Erik brought his own arms around her. _Who is this stranger? Where is Christine?_

The woman in his arms pulled back to look at him, a slow smile unfolding over her face. There was a trace of the girl he remembered in that smile, but Erik felt as if he was looking at her through a smokescreen. Her image was blurred, distorted, leaving only a hint of the girl with this woman he did not know. Erik cleared his throat and moistened his lips.

"Are you...Christine?"

She smiled at him. "Well, of course I am," she said, turning in a complete circle before him. "Who else would I be?"

Her voice was slightly deeper, and the longer he looked at her the more familiar her face became, but Erik still felt off-balance. "I'm sorry, I just...Christine, you've grown up."

She shrugged narrow shoulders. "I'd be more concerned if I hadn't; it has been about five years, something would have been wrong with me if I hadn't grown at all since we last saw each other."

Erik nodded, but her words could not penetrate his mind. He couldn't stop looking at her. _This is Christine?_

He didn't know why he felt so dumbfounded in seeing her as an adult. A woman. The blood pounded in his chest. His Christine, his adorable young friend had grown up to become an alluring woman, perhaps the loveliest woman he'd laid eyes on in months. Erik shook his head to clear his mind. Now was not the time for such thoughts, and he couldn't think of Christine in such a way. It was wrong.

"Christine, I've come to you because..."

She raised a hand and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the words to come. "I know, you came for my father."

Erik nodded. "Yes, I have, but there's more to it than just paying my respects."

Sadness returned to her eyes, dimming them slightly. Christine glanced around her room, embarassed suddenly to have asked him to come inside. Her eyes darted to the binder that she had dropped only moments before, but relief flooded her that the contents remained contained within. She didn't want Erik to see...

Christine's heart ached, torn between one extreme and the other; her father had suffered for weeks before he'd died, but now Erik was back in her life. How should she feel? Happy? Sad? Christine didn't know of any emotion in between.

Erik watched as the war within herself played out over her expression. He knew that his sudden reappearance in her life was abrupt; there had been no announcement, no warning. He didn't want to add to her stress; Erik had only ever wanted to protect Christine, even if from himself.

Erik was aware, once again, of his presence being inappropriate in her bedroom, and he had not forgotten the bodyguards that were waiting just outside the apartment. He had to speak with her, and quickly. "Christine, could we talk in your living room?"

Christine blinked. "Oh, of course."

Together, they moved out of the shadowed hallway and into the brighter, more open space of the apartment. Once more, Erik had to wonder how such young women were able to pay for the loft. Christine motioned for him to take a seat, and then she sat right beside him. Sunlight was coming in from the large main window, and in the natural light Erik was better able to see the stress of loss on Christine's face.

She had just come from a shower but even so, Erik knew she had been crying, long and hard, only recently. He understood. He had cried when he'd finally gotten in touch with Gabriel and learned how his friend's health had declined so rapidly. Erik took one of her hands into his own. "Christine, I need to speak with you about your father, and a task he left to me before he died."

* * *


	6. Suite Meetings

Christine's eyes greedily absorbed the man before her. She'd been in a fog for days, weeks it seemed, until Belinda had informed her of their guest. When she'd heard the words "masked man" and "Shalimar", Christine's mind had snapped into focus and for a moment she felt that the ground beneath her feet had tilted.

_Erik has come..._

Christine swallowed as she glanced down to the strong gloved hand that was enfolded over her own; she was unsure of how she felt about his sudden reappearance in her life- for years, she had labored to put him from her mind as a way to soothe the wounded pride of her past.

As Christine had grown older and moved on from her stubborn, childish want to forget about Erik, she had realized that it was too late to try reconnecting with her friend. By the time she had reached seventeen, she had looked back on her actions in Shalimar with deep regret; she had been impulsive and stupid on their last day together in the palace, ruining what could have been a perfect day spent with her friend.

When she looked back on that night, Christine could no longer blame Erik for simply kissing her cheek- in hindsight she realized that if Erik had done what she'd dreamed of and taken her as his lover, he would not only have faced serious consequences, but a man that would take such a young girl was not someone that she would want to be involved with anyway.

By eighteen, Christine had come to think of Erik nearly every day, and there were several occasions when she had typed out long messages to him, detailing her feelings and her wish to reconnect with him. All of those messages had been deleted. Erik was no longer her friend; he had stopped writing to her just as she had wanted.

_I was too stupid to see what I would be giving up by trying to forget him! I was angry and hurt, angry enough to let my friendship die..._

Time had gone on, and Christine had resigned herself to the belief that she would never see Erik again. Why would she? Even if Kalila offered to bring her back to Shalimar, Christine would not be indulged as she had while she'd lived in the palace. She was not a child anymore; and she couldn't hope to have things resume into the way they were years ago. Christine had told herself that even if she somehow, some way saw Erik again, he would look right through her, for he had forgotten about her; she had been deleted from his memory as easily as one of their shallow letters.

In a way, Christine had been lucky that there had been so many other things to absorb her time; she was sure that if her thoughts had kept running to Erik she might have gone mad. She'd had to concentrate on school and the direction she wished to take in life, and her father had grown more ill with each passing year. Christine and Kalila had held no illusions after the doctors had informed the family on Gabriel's condition.

After so much had been done, the only thing left to do in the end had been to keep him comfortable.

Now, after everything, Erik came to her with proof that he had been in contact with her father for months and she had never heard a word about it!

Christine put a hand to her head and sighed deeply. He was sitting so close to her, she could feel his heat and scent his light cologne. Her mind seemed to spin, making her slightly dizzy.

_Erik is here, he's real, he's so close...God, after all this time..._

Erik stopped speaking and looked at her, his pulse quickening once more. He brought a hand forward to rest over her shoulder. "Christine, are you all right?"

She swallowed, feeling shaky. "I'm...no, Erik, I'm sorry, but I'm not all right. I haven't spoken to you in years and you've just shown up out of nowhere to tell me you've been talking to dad behind my back!" She brought her hands up to her temples in an attempt to ease the throbbing there.

The emotions that had gone through her were threatening to overwhelm, but Christine stamped down on them. Now was not the time to break down, she would be damned if she made a fool of herself before Erik again!

Erik appeared stricken. "Christine, please, let me explain everything to you. It wasn't some secret between us, I contacted Gabriel first..." Erik sighed and moved his hands to her again, holding them out so that she might take them. She did. Erik glanced down, strangely relieved to see her hands bare of jewelry. "It's a long story, and I'm sorry for not announcing my intent to come here. My head of security worried that if my presence became known here, I could become some sort of target, and so might you. I didn't want to put you into any sort of danger."

She looked up. "Are you in danger here, Erik?"

He squeezed her hands in reassurance and shook his head. "It's not unheard of that foreign leaders are assassinated when outside of their country. I haven't had much time for myself since becoming king, but things are changing."

Christine frowned. "What do you mean?"

Erik started to answer her, but before he could get more than three words past his lips, Belinda returned to the apartment, Starbucks in hand. "You can speak English!" She delared, her bold eyes accusing at Erik.

He smirked slightly and nodded to her. "Yes, Belinda. Not much, but enough to get by."

Belinda moved to sit across from them and set down three paper cups on the table, taking one for herself. "I brought mochas for everyone," She explained, gesturing for them to take a coffee. Erik took a sip of the sweet drink and looked up to see Belinda's blue eyes intent on his own. Erik smirked at her.

"Well, I'm so glad you think this is funny, _your majesty_," Belinda drawled. "But it wouldn't have killed you to say something while we were waiting for Christine."

Erik ticked his head to the side. "I'm sorry, Belinda. I just wanted to watch you for a time."

The cool weather outside and her own anger with him had given a pink flush to her face, and her eyes snapped blue fire at him. He thought she seemed more awake now, a definite spark had come into her personality. She was beautiful.

Belinda raised her brows. "And why is that?"

Erik considered his words carefully. "You're very interesting to me. We have few women resembling you in Shalimar, your coloring and style of dress. I haven't seen a real woman like you in years. It's refreshing." In truth, he'd grown bored with the Shaliman style of dress for women. He understood the national sway towards modesty, but Erik had been raised French; he adored the sight of bare legs in a short skirt, the occasional glimpse of a woman's décolletage. Clothing that enhanced a woman's femininity rather than going to extreme lengths to hide it.

Christine scowled, irritated that Erik had said no such thing to her.

Belinda blushed. "Oh, all right. So what brought you to America?"

Erik turned to Christine. "Gabriel did. Or, I should say, his last message did. It's a long story." He finished, indicating a want for privacy with Christine.

Belinda stared at him, "All right, let's hear it."

Obviously, she did not understand, or if she did, Belinda didn't intend on being left from the know.

Erik smiled. "It's priveleged information, my beauty. I will have to speak with Christine alone." Erik thought for a moment, and recalled Belinda's words that Christine had been keeping to herself for several days. It would be good for her to get out for a time. "But I will not impose upon you any longer. Christine, if you will be so kind as to join me for dinner later tonight?"

* * *

There was a time when Christine had dreamed of meeting Erik for dinner at one of the most glamorous and exclusive restaurants in all of Shalimar; she in a designer dress, he in a tuxedo. They would have ordered champagne to celebrate their newfound love, and danced until their feet could take no more... 

Christine shook her head, remembering with a slight smile the outlandish daydreams of her younger self. _What a little romantic I was!_

It was strange how life gave you the things you wanted, but rarely when you wanted them. Christine smiled wryly to herself as she applied her makeup for the evening. She had wished to meet Erik for a night of dinner and dancing, and here she was now, dressing herself in preparation for just such an occasion, but she felt none of the thrill she'd imagined that she would. Even though Erik had noticed that she had grown up, he still didn't think of her as anything other than his old friend.

_Well. I never thought I'd see him again, but he's come here to see me. We were never meant for anything other than friendship, but I couldn't have dreamed of a more wonderful friend._

Christine thought of him and felt slight heat in her cheeks. Erik was a handsome man, albeit in a mysterious way. She had never seen his face- in fact, she had never seen any part of his body other than what was revealed by his shirt and mask, namely, his mouth, his chin and part of his neck. Everything else was a mystery, just like the rest of him. He had always been honest with her in the past, but then they had never spoken on any subject of consequence.

She was attracted to him, and as he'd held her hand earlier in the day, Christine had felt a strange fluttering in her chest. She had ignored it, assuring herself that it was just the excitement of seeing him again, the man that had been her first love, but it didn't mean anything more. For both their sakes', it couldn't.

Erik had left her to regroup his subjects only mere hours ago, but his abrupt departure left Christine wondering if he had truly come back to her at all. _He must have been here_, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. _Belinda won't stop questioning me about him!_

She chose a pair of diamond drop earrings, a holiday gift from Kalila, to wear to dinner. It wasn't that she wanted to entice Erik, no. He had taken refuge at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, and Christine knew she had to dress the part if she wanted to get past the front door. She wouldn't be let inside dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, so her favored silk dress would do the trick.

The dress was simple crimson silk, and a touch short for the brisk weather of late autumn, but when paired with the right pieces everything seemed to fall into place. Though she was not enthralled by all aspects of fashion, Christine had learned how to dress herself to fit any occasion.

"You've been quiet ever since 'his highness' left, are you going to tell me what's going on or not?" Belinda demanded, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom where Christine was preparing herself for the night.

She turned to her cousin and sighed. "I would tell you if I knew myself, but I don't. Erik will tell me over dinner tonight, and then I'll tell you."

Belinda nodded once and then moved closer, looking Christine up and down. "I'm not blind, you know."

"I never said you were."

"You like him, don't you?" Belinda asked, raising her brows.

Christine knew it would be pointless to lie, and even so, she was too tired to come up with any false explanation. "I did. Back in Shalimar, he was a close friend to me, as I was to him. It was complicated, we had to meet in secret to avoid suspicion."

Belinda's eyes widened. "You were barely sixteen when you came here, do you mean he-"

"No! It wasn't like that. Erik wouldn't- I mean, I thought I was in love with him! It was just an infatuation, maybe because we were so close, or because we understood each other so well...I don't know. I loved him, and I wanted more than friendship, but I was just a girl then. All that's over now. I'm only dressed like this because I need to look like I belong at the Ritz." Christine said quickly.

Belinda whistled. "He's taking you to the Ritz? Very chic."

"It's where he's staying, that's all. It's just dinner. Erik wants me to know what task my father left to him, but I don't know anything more than that." Christine affirmed as she pinned up her hair.

Belinda nodded. "All right."

Christine knew Belinda didn't believe her, and Christine didn't know if she could believe herself.

* * *

The Ritz-Carlton was everything Christine had imagined it to be. She had walked and driven past the grand hotel more times than she could count, but she had never had need to venture inside. She stepped out of the taxi and took a moment to crane her neck upward. The building towered over her and all the other people hustling by on the sidewalk, much like a king over his subjects. Her thoughts turned to Erik, and she wondered how he had managed to do so much good for the Shaliman people in such a short time; if everything she had read about him was true, then the man was simply amazing. 

A biting cold breeze cut into her thoughts, and Christine moved into the building and out of the cold. She stepped into the lobby, taken in by the regal glamour of the famous hotel. The doors leading to the restaurant were to her right, just before the security desks and a bank of elevators. She took a deep breath to stamp down on her fluttering nerves and approached the maitre'd. He was an older man with steely grey hair that leant him an interesting air of maturity; Christine liked the cut of his suit as well as his friendly brown eyes.

"I'm to meet Erik DeRoux for dinner." She said, wondering the best way to make an entrance. Erik had thought of her as a child for too long; she stubbornly wanted him to acknowledge her as an adult.

The maitre'd raised a brow at her in interest, but as he looked through the dinner guest list for the night, he began to frown. "I'm sorry miss, but we have no one listed under that name down for tonight."

Christine bit the inside of her lip, worried that she might have misunderstood Erik, but a young, well-dressed man approached her from the security desk. "Miss Christine Daae?"

She turned around, cautious of this new stranger. "Yes?"

"I am a representative of Mr. DeRoux, and he regrets that he will not be able to join you for dinner."

Disappointment descended upon her, and irritation that Erik wouldn't tell her himself, but send one of his assistants instead.

The man went on, "However, he invites you to join him in his suite."

Feeling foolish, Christine got onto the nearest elevator, her nerves skyrocketing.

* * *

Christine was let into the suite by one of the men she recognized from earlier in the day, one of Erik's formidable bodyguards. She stepped inside to find that most of the suite was dark, the only light coming from a small table lamp set beside an ornate chaise lounge. She smiled slightly, admiring the dim romantic setting. 

Crossing the room, she caught sight of her own reflection from a hanging wall mirror. She looked alluring, a waif in crimson silk, drifting over the floor on black stiletto heels. Christine admitted that perhaps in the back of her mind she had dressed herself on the seductive side; a repressed need to avenge the wounded pride of her younger self. She hoped to impress Erik, to earn one of the flattering compliments he'd bestowed on Belinda.

Men often told her she was beautiful, but Christine thought it would mean that much more to her coming from Erik.

She shrugged out of her coat and laid it on the arm of a cream wingback chair. Smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, Christine cast her eyes about for the man in question. A slight movement caught her eye and she saw that it was the edge of a curtain, moving with the breeze from outside.

Erik was on the balcony, overlooking the city with his back facing her. Christine hesitated only for a moment before heading toward him. "Erik?" She called.

He turned and stopped, his eyes widening behind the mask as he took in the sight of her. "I am here, Christine. Will you join me?" He asked.

_Who was this woman?_

It seemed that he had asked himself that question a thousand times since first laying eyes on her in the bedroom earlier in the day. Erik could only watch as she approached him, stirring his senses and evoking a desire that in turn evoked a deep sense of guilt.

_Does she dress this way for other men?_ Erik wondered. Christine moved out of the suite to join him on the balcony and she looked out over the city, leaning her elbows forward on the railing. Again, he could not take his eyes off her. She had not grown taller in their separation, Erik saw, and he had known nothing of her body shape when she'd been with him in Shalimar so he could not guage that change. Her face was only slightly different, more defined, her hair had only grown longer in their time apart.

What confused Erik most was that the child he'd expected to find had somehow become a desirable woman.

A woman with soft hands, bright eyes and long graceful legs. Erik wondered if her black stockings were as silky as her deep crimson dress. He felt his body tighten slightly and was thankful that his mask prevented Christine from seeing where his eyes had wandered.

_That's enough, how can you ogle Gabriel's daughter? He was your friend!_

Erik ticked his head to the side, as if reacting to a physical strike rather than the mental slap he'd just given himself.

He blinked, regaining himself. "Christine. I'm sorry that we could not meet downstairs. My bodyguards are a bit overprotective lately. I think it's the stress of travel. Have you eaten?"

Christine shook her head. "No, I have not..._sire." _

Erik smiled at her, remembering the way she had teased him in Shalimar when he'd first been brought into his kingship. Her voice had changed, from that of a girl to a young woman- slightly deeper, huskier. The Shaliman words dripped from her lips like honey._  
_

Erik led her back into the suite. He flicked a switch and warm light poured in from overhead. Now with more of the room revealed, Christine realized that Erik had only just arrived, perhaps as early as that morning. Two large black suitcases were resting just outside of a door that Christine assumed led into the suite bedroom, and the hotel's complimentary welcome basket was still left out on the dining table.

Erik took her hand in his and twirled her in a slow circle so that he might see her in full. Christine smiled and turned for him; she was reminded of their time together in the palace gardens, where she could sometimes coax Erik into dancing with her in the evenings, innocent swaying waltzes swirling around their fountain.

When he spoke, Erik's voice was very low. "I see you've dressed for dinner. You're lovely."

Christine felt heat flood her cheeks and neck. She had hoped for Erik to compliment her; now that he had she felt vulnerable to the resurgeance of old feelings. She didn't know if she could take being hurt again. She swallowed. "Thank you."

Erik's eyes held hers, and he allowed his lips to curl into a slight smirk. He did not release her hand from his. "I had difficulty recognizing you earlier today, when we were in your bedroom." He confessed suddenly. "You've changed a great deal over the years, Christine."

She raised her brow; it leant her a clever expression that he remembered from years before. "I'm not the only one, Erik."

"You mean me? How so? I feel the same."

Christine smiled. "There was a time when you kept nothing from me. Now I find that is no longer so."

Erik nodded. "Yes. There is much to tell you, and I promise that I will, but please, can't we spend some time catching up a bit? I would very much like to know what you have done in America these past years."

Christine swallowed and followed Erik to the deep leather sofa. He had had room service send up a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon; champagne was for celebrations, and what better way to celebrate a reunion with the only true friend he could recall? Erik poured two flutes and tapped his glass to hers, toasting to "true friends".

Erik sipped the sparkling drink and watched with renewed interest as Christine sipped from her own flute. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stop seeing Christine as a desireable woman and remember her for what she had once been to him: a wonderful friend.

She turned to him and smiled. "This is strange, being with you again. No more hiding in the gardens,"

He nodded. "No need to meet in secret. This is the freedom we'd always hoped for." Erik leaned in slightly to touch her hand. "You are still my Christine, but the girl I remember is gone."

"I'm still the same Christine, Erik." She told him. "The outer packaging might have changed, but I am still me."

Erik nodded. "I am happy to hear that. I am also determined to prove to you that I am the same man I was before- a bit wiser, but I am still Erik."

Christine leaned back further into the sofa. "What was it like, Erik? To be the king, I mean. You were only months into it when I left Shalimar. I wasn't aware enough to realize all the challenges you faced. I tried to keep up by watching the news and checking the Internet, but it seemed that one major problem led right into another."

Erik took another sip of his drink. "I won't lie to you and say it was easy. It's been very difficult, exhausting really. I will tell you a secret..."

Christine turned to him, trying not to get caught up in the swell of happiness she felt at his return. That he had wanted to be alone with her and had poured her a glass of fine champagne was a page straight out of her teenage fantasies. And now, a secret...

"I'd been working around the clock for years, barely stopping to catch my breath. You know my history, Christine." Erik's voice took on a dark edge as it always had when he mentioned his father. "Once I'd discovered the corruption of Bhaskar's reign, I knew that I finally had the chance to do some good...I was being selfish, in my way. I wanted to discredit everything he'd ever done, I wanted his faults to be revealed to the people." Erik shook his head. "Pathetic, I know, but I always grew so angry when he was praised; The Great Bhaskar was a myth and I worked to make sure his former devotees saw the truth."

Christine listened to him, sympathetic to Erik's long-held desire to redeem himself in the eyes of the people, even at the cost of his father's memory. She understood his want for vengeance against the man that had denied him, but she hoped that Erik would leave it behind him. His father was gone, it was time for Erik to live beyond his anger.

She reached out and took his hand into hers; the flesh beneath his constant leather glove was burning in her hand. "Erik, I've read about the things you did; you revealed the people that Bhaskar exploited, you improved the national healthcare and educational programs and gave hope to the people...you said yourself that you wanted to right the wrongs of your father..."

Erik nodded. "I did want to help the people, in the end they were my guiding light. Guilt has followed me for months, though. For a very long time, my main motivation in helping Shaliman was to destroy the memory of my father as a gifted leader."

She turned to face him fully. "Erik, why are you telling me this? You've done so much good over the years; nevermind your history with Bhaskar, you exposed him for what he was and you did more good for Shalimar in five years than he ever had in his decades as ruler!"

He shrugged and avoided her eyes, his hand still over hers. "I...I suppose. It doesn't matter anymore. Kumar is king now, though not officially."

"What?"

"Kumar and I have reached a personal agreement. If I was king, I would not have been able to travel here. He is the acting king now- passing laws and taking meetings with the advisors. I needed to stop, I was close to working myself into an early grave." He informed her, sighing slightly as he recalled the endless hours he'd worked to overcome the nation's troubles. "We reached this agreement weeks ago; in the palace, Kumar is the king but in the eyes of the people I am still the ruler. My abdication will occur soon."

Christine laughed. "Sire, you are so clever."

He nodded though he did not laugh. "Yes, yes, that is me. It was after Kumar and I reached this agreement that I contacted Gabriel. Until then I had had no idea that his illness had...well, I was shocked that the cancer had progressed so far, even after so many different treatments." He said quietly, staring into the depth of his empty glass.

Christine took a gulp of champagne and then refilled her glass, all laughter gone from them. Erik held his out and she poured for him. "We were shocked too, Erik." Christine bit out. "After everything they put him through, it was all for nothing. I've been so _angry_ this past year."

"There was nothing you could do." Erik ventured, moving his hand to rest over her shoulder.

She took a long draught from her glass. "I know, and that's what's had me so furious. Dad was suffering and there was nothing I could do to help."

It was as if finally saying the words out loud had the deepest effect over her; Erik watched as her strong resolve crumbled. The woman beside him dipped her head and covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly.

_God! Why did I speak of Gabriel? I'm sorry, Christine, please, please, I can't stand to see you cry!_

Erik moved forward and brought Christine into his arms. He held her as she quietly cried against his chest, feeling his own sorrow for Gabriel rise to the surface. Tentatively, he lifted his hand and stroked her back in the hopes of comforting her.

_Christine, my poor Christine, this was not your fault..._

She cried for her father, the first time she had cried for him in months.

Christine had not been able to shed any tears at his bedside in the hospital, during his funeral or in the days afterward, but with Erik her tears flowed free.

As her tears fell, her anger fell away with them, leaving her empty in the end.


	7. The Task Set Before Us

Hours later, the bottle of champagne had long gone empty and rolled to the floor. Erik didn't mind. _Leave it_, he thought.

His stomach rumbled insistently, but he dared not move. In all that had happened, the dinner he'd intended to share with Christine had been forgotten; flown from his mind like a free bird. There were other, more important things to hold his concern. He could eat later.

Erik had said the right things to ease Christine's mind, but he was fooling himself if he thought he'd made her heart whole once more. That sort of healing would take years, he knew. The perfume he'd sampled earlier in her room rose into the air to greet his senses. Lovely, light. His hands ached to touch her, skin to skin, but Erik didn't feel right about that.

After so much talking and drinking, Christine had finally had enough and fallen asleep against Erik as he'd been holding her. Christine was now sprawled atop him, as he was sprawled back against the sofa cushions.

_No more champagne for you, Christine, not ever again!_

He decided that, upon waking, Christine would be given a proper breakfast. He hadn't needed Belinda's input to see that Christine had not been taking care of herself for days; it was not so surprising to him then, that she'd arrived with an empty stomach and that the champagne had gone right to her head. She had not blacked out, but after confessing her anger and deep sense of guilt to him, Erik dared not wake her. She was too thin and he could tell from the circles beneath her eyes that she had not been sleeping well, if at all, since Gabriel's death.

_My poor Christine...sleep, you need to sleep... _

Erik wanted to keep her there with him, to protect her and comfort her in ways that he'd never been permitted in Shalimar. Always held back by custom or the fear of arousing suspicion. Things had changed now. As far as the world knew, Erik was a king. Christine was no longer a child, and they were not in Shalimar. He could finally do whatever he damn well pleased. He smiled at the thought, and held her tighter in his arms.

Erik didn't mind Christine sleeping against him, she was far too light in his opinion, but his leg was beginning to cramp. He shifted himself out from under her and stood up, stretching slightly to ease the ache that had formed in his thigh. Hesitating only for a moment, Erik bent and lifted Christine into his arms, and then crossed the living room, headed towards the master suite.

He was careful in putting her down on the bed that he had yet to sleep in himself'; Christine deserved no less than to be treated as a queen.

_Now there's a thought, _he mused with a slight smile.

Erik put her down on the mattress and drew a blanket over her long body. For a time he couldn't help but to just stand over her, watching. Her breathing was deep, her mind numb thanks to the champagne flowing through her veins. He wondered if he would ever cease to be amazed by how she had changed in their years apart.

Without a thought of stopping himself, Erik bent to her, kissing the bare curve of her shoulder. "I missed you." He whispered.

Erik left the bedroom then, afraid of what else he might be tempted to do.

* * *

In the early morning light, Erik watched as Christine struggled awake. That she was the first woman to grace his bed in nearly a year was beside the point; she was beautiful and alluring, albeit with a great sense of innocense. Vaguely, he wondered if her innocense was a fact. She hadn't mentioned a man, but then they had not spoken for long before the champagne had worked its magic on them both. 

Erik reached forward to graze his fingertips down the length of her exposed arm. He ignored the gooseflesh that his touch evoked. "Christine, it's time to wake up."

She moved then, writhing slightly beneath the blanket, and her eyes opened to him. The girl started up. "Oh, God, Erik. I am so sorry! I- the wine, and, and-"

He braced his hands over her shoulders to keep her from moving away from him. "No harm done, Christine. Are you feeling all right?"

Before she could answer, her empty stomach spoke for her, nearly roaring for food. Christine hung her head in humiliation. _Gods above, he must think I've grown up to become a complete idiot! What else could go wrong now?_

Erik smirked. "Right. We never did have a chance to share that dinner I'd planned. Why don't you freshen up a bit and I'll call down to room service. Maybe afterwards you'd do me the honor of a tour? I've never been to America, and after five years of living here you must be quite the expert."

Christine forced a smile and nodded, which was good enough for him. Erik left the master suite and Christine buried her face in a silk pillow, screaming out her embarassment.

* * *

As Christine readied herself for the day, Erik dialed down for breakfast and asked that a few items be brought up for Christine as well. It was an unusual request, he knew, but the Ritz was reknown for its above-and-beyond client service. He could hear the girl moving about in the bedroom, likely washing her face and arranging her hair. Erik shrugged to himself, wondering which Christine he preferred. The bare-faced young woman he'd seen at the apartment, so fresh and clean, wholesome and unspoiled; or did he prefer the alluring little vixen, with her crimson silk dress and upswept hair? 

Erik thought himself fortunate to have found a woman that could look the part of either character; such women were especially rare, and infinitely more interesting.

He strode over to the window and looked out over what he was told was Central Park. Colorful trees went on for miles, it seemed, tucked into the very heart of a city that had become the nation's capitol for art and business. _Beautiful_, he thought.

Yawning, Erik folded the blanket he'd used for himself while sleeping on the sofa, and hoped to himself that he might enjoy a better sleep that night. He was tired, weary from the travel and the shock of reuniting with Christine. He paused and wondered how he could have been so stupid as to expect to come here and find the child he remembered from five years ago. His bright young companion, his secret friend met everyday in the palace gardens.

_Christine._

Sadly, he realized that the girl he'd used to brighten his stressful days was gone forever. She would only live on through his memories; what he had now was the same person, a woman rather than a girl, and rather than brighten his day, she instead both confused and interested him.

It wouldn't be right to think of her that way; though she was a grown woman now, and a very desireable one at that, Erik couldn't disrespect Gabriel's memory. The man had been wary of Erik's friendship with her from the start, and with good reason. What father wouldn't be suspicious of a grown man hovering around his only daughter? No.

Erik had to recall Christine as his friend, one whose opinion would go a great deal towards shaping his future, especially with the task that Gabriel had left to them.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and Erik strode over to see one of his bodyguards wheeling in a food cart in place of one of the hotel workers. How could he have forgotten? His subjects, the bodyguards and head of security were in suites just down the hall, protecting him from any and all conceiveable threat. The only thing threatening hm now was his own body; it threatened to override his sense of loyalty to Gabriel and take Christine as his own.

_Gabriel would be rolling in his grave if he knew the way she tempted me last night._

Erik took the food cart and moved it to a small table beside the window, serving two plates with egg, cheese, sweetbread and fruit. The scent of food had his stomach growling louder than Christine's, and he moved to the bedroom door. "Christine?" He called. "I have breakfast, and something for you to wear," he said, venturing into the room. He could hear water running in the bathroom, so he left the pair of jeans and the shirt he'd requested on the bed for her.

He closed the door behind himself and looked out the windows again, marveling at America's interesting landscape. Shalimar was plentiful, even more so now after the work he'd put into preserving the country's natural resources, but even still, it was nothing like this. Erik smiled slightly, his lips curving as far as possible, and he wondered why he'd never visited this placed called New York before.

_Probably because I was too busy planning my escape to France_, he thought. Once Kumar was officially installed as the Shaliman king, Erik still intended to return to Paris. His duty in Shalimar was done- he'd done what he'd set out to do by exposing his father for the corrupt bastard he was, and he'd also restored freedom to the people. He'd earned their respect and even their adoration. He had redeemed his mother and himself.

His time in Shalimar was over. Erik wanted the life in Paris that he'd so long been denied.

"Erik?"

He turned to find Christine coming out from the bedroom, dressed in the jeans and violet wrap blouse he'd requested for her. He nodded as she came forward. "Hello, Christine, are you feeling any better? I hope you like the clothes- if the sizing of the blouse was wrong I can have them take it back." He offered, though he couldn't see anything wrong at all when it came to the way the material gently skimmed over her chest.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, everything is fine." She gave him a nervous smile that perfectly matched her nervous mood.

Erik wondered what was wrong now. "Breakfast? I'm sure you're starved." 

Christine nodded and shuffled towards the table by the window. Erik follwed her and together, they gave in to hunger. Christine speared a piece of fruit and eyed the man across from her at the table. Looking at him like this, in the path of direct sunlight streaming in through the window, she saw that Erik had not changed much in the past few years, save for a few slight differences. So much of his body was hidden from her, but she could see the effects the stresses of saving a nation had caused him. He'd told her that Kumar was the acting king and had been for several weeks now, but years of sleepless nights and poor nutrition would not disappear overnight.

Still, she could see that Erik was on the mend, and watching him eat set her mind at ease. "Erik, you said you wanted to see New York today?"

He glanced up. "It you're not busy, I'd hoped that you might join me for a performance later this afternoon. They're showing _Aida,_ one of my favorites if you remember."

Christine sipped a cup of hot coffee and nodded. "I'd like that. Of course, I'd have to run home to change my clothes." She said, smiling. "I can't go to the opera in jeans."

Erik smiled slightly. "You'd look fine either way. I think I might have promised to take you to an opera once, a very long time ago. Now I'm finally able to make good on my word."

Christine felt her nerves drop away as she saw that Erik was baiting her with their familiar bantering. "You promised me a lot back in those gardens, Erik." She said, her eyes flashing at him. "An opera is a small thing compared to a visit in Paris."

His eyes widened slightly behind the mask, catching the sun and gleaming at her. "I promised you Paris?"

She nodded, feeling triumphant. "Oh, yes. That once I was old enough, we'd stay in your loft and visit all the sites."

Memories unfolded within his mind, and looking at Christine, Erik knew that he wanted to take Christine with him. He reasoned that a holiday would be the best thing for them both, surely. To escape for a time, to reconnect...

"That invitation still stands. I'd made arrangements to stay there for a month or so before officially abdicating to Kumar. If you are so eager to see Paris, then I invite you to come to France with me." He said quickly.

Christine's jaw dropped, shocked that he was serious. "Erik, do you really mean that?"

"Will your job allow it?"

"That's not the problem-"

"Will your lover allow it?"

Christine felt heat flood her face. That Erik would say 'lover' rather than 'boyfriend' went a long way to show how different their adopted cultures were; Belinda would die laughing if she'd heard Erik just now. If her memory served, Erik had always had old-fashioned habits, and the decades he'd spent in Shalimar would have only encouraged his natural lean towards the conservative.

She cleared her throat. "There is no man in question."

"Is it not enough that your king has invited you?" He asked. The tone of his voice was so pompous Christine knew he had to have been joking, and she smiled.

"No, _sire,_ it is not. I just...I will consider your invitation and then I will tell you of my decision."

Erik nodded and thought to entice her further. He lowered his voice to a pitch he had often been told was 'every woman's undoing'. He reached forward and laid his hand over hers. Christine's eyes widened at the heat of his touch. "If I can tempt you to come, I will say that Paris is beautiful this time of year. The food will be more intense than anything you've ever tasted; the music is beyond compare, it can be sensual and passionate. I've wanted to go back for years and now I finally have my chance..."

He watched with a measure of satisfaction as her eyes darkened and her lips parted. One would think he had just hypnotized her, but Erik knew better. He released her hand and sipped his own coffee, marveling for a moment at his own manipulative nature.

_So long as she comes with me- it may not be exactly as Gabriel wanted, but we can carry out his last wish so long as we're together..._

He hadn't given much thought to what Gabriel had intended for him, but then Erik had been distracted by Christine. No matter. He would tell Christine that night, after he had enjoyed her company during _Aida._ It wasn't that Erik wanted to omit the task her father had left behind for them, but he also wasn't yet ready to intrude upon their reunion by revealing the business end of why he'd come for her.

_I will tell her when the time is right._

* * *

"So you spent the night at the Ritz hotel, staying up all night drinking champagne with a king. A king you claimed to have been heads over heels for when you lived in Shalimar. Now, you say nothing happened, Christine, but I say that you're telling me a bold-faced lie!" 

Christine rolled her eyes and tried not to smile as Belinda bounced with excitement on the edge of her bed. Erik had walked her to the door of her apartment before he departed to tend to his own affairs. Christine had barely stepped over the threshold when Belinda sprang out from hiding, demanding answers.

Christine was touched by her cousin's concern and apologized for not calling, but the blonde had demanded an explanation.

"Well, we said hello and then we starting drinking...and then we kept drinking...and I don't really remember, but nothing happened." Christine had feebly explained.

Belinda shook her head. "Take it from someone who knows, all right? It's impossible to drink with a man and spend the night without anything happening. I mean, have you even thought about this? He's a king! If anyone from the media finds out that you were alone all night, the two of you will be all over the tabloids! Tomorrow morning it'll be 'King and Model: Arabian Night At The Ritz' or some stupid shit like that on the cover of _Star_ magazine."

Christine rolled her eyes. "You're overreacting. Erik isn't here as a foreign leader, he's here as just another tourist come to New York to see the Rockettes. Aside from that, he doesn't know about the modeling."

Belinda raised her brow. "Why not? Are you too prude all of a sudden?"

Christine turned on her. "No. I'm proud of my work, it's just that Erik is very...conservative. Think about it; he's French but most of his life has been spent in Shalimar. I don't want him to look down on me- he'd probably think me as being very vain, and there are some pictures I'd prefer to keep private."

Her cousin snorted. "Yeah, it'll be really easy to hide your career once they approve the final prints for your _Tiffany_ campaign. The ad will be all over the city, how will you hide it then?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. If he asks me, then I'll tell him. But I doubt it will come up tonight."

"You're going out with him again tonight?"

"Yes. He wants me to see _Aida _with him."

Christine flopped onto her bed, feeling exhausted despite having slept for so long in Erik's hotel suite. Belinda watched as her cousin rubbed at her temples, trying to banish a slight headache. "So...you're sure nothing happened?"

"Yes."

"Do I hear a hint of regret?" Belinda prodded.

Christine rose up onto her elbows and glared. "No! Do you think I went there last night intending to sleep with him?"

"You were wearing you're come-get-me dress, and if I may say, you did yourself up so sexy last night that _I_ almost tried to sleep with you! If nothing happened then I'm either amazed at this man's willpower or convinced that you repulse him, though I doubt the latter." Belinda said offhandedly.

"Thank you, cousin, for that wonderful endorsement. And I may as well admit it now that you're right. Nothing happened and I do regret that. I dressed up because...well, because I wanted him to notice me as a woman now instead of the child I was when we saw each other last." Christine shook her head. "He hasn't changed a bit. Erik's still so kind...we started talking about my father and we'd already been drinking champagne. I made a fool of myself last night, I'm sure, but he didn't make me feel worse about it in the morning, at least." 

"He didn't say anything?" Belinda asked.

Christine shook her head. "No. He dialed down to room service and we ate breakfast. He invited me to see _Aida _with him later tonight. Then he took me home."

"Wow." Belinda was impressed, but she still had questions. "But he still hasn't told you about what Gabriel wrote to him?"

She hesitated. "Now that you mention it, no. We didn't speak of my father again...I need to know what was said between them. Erik mentioned that they'd been in contact for weeks before he died. I don't like that, it feels like they were conspiring."

Belinda moved to Christine's vanity table and fingered the diamond earrings from the night before and then moved on to sample a bit of her perfume. "Well, if Erik didn't mention it last night he probably won't mention it tonight while you're at the opera. If I were you I would just ask him, point-blank."

Christine nodded. "You're right. I'll demand answers from him tonight."

* * *

"Erik, if your invitation still stands, I'd love to go to Paris with you." 

These were the words that greeted Erik on Christine's doorstep later that evening. He had arrived to take her to the opera, and smiled at both her declaration and her dress. It was deep onyx silk that kept a modest neckline to balance the high slit in the skirt. He swallowed slightly and drew his eyes upward; he didn't want Christine to think him base for staring at her exposed leg.

_How the hell will I survive staying with her in Paris? How will I manage to tell her of what Gabriel intended for us?_

Erik smiled slightly and guided her away from the door. "My invitation does stand, Christine. I'm glad that you'll come. I think it might be nice for you to get away from everything for a time." He said as he offered her his arm. Christine slid her arm through his and followed him down to the waiting limosuine in the front of her building. The driver was, of course, Montar Kalik, Erik's head of security.

Erik opened the door and let Christine slide into the car ahead of him. Once she was settled, he moved to sit beside her.

"Oh, look, we're twins," Christine said with a smile as she held up her hand. She was wearing fine leather gloves, nearly identical to his own.

Erik only smiled thinly. He knew that Christine would never make demands that he remove his mask or gloves, but all the same he would have preferred her not to have mentioned his gloves at all, no matter what the reason.

Christine shrugged to herself, feeling as if she'd made a bad joke and had been greeted with awkward silence rather than laughter. She cleared her throat. Erik glanced at her and felt a pang; this was still Christine, wasn't it? There was no need for him to be sensitive about something so small when larger, greater things loomed between them.

Erik reached over and laced his fingers with hers.

Christime smiled. It was small, but it was enough.

"Christine-"

"Erik-"

Erik smiled and gestured to her. "Ladies first,"

She smiled and nervously touched the emerald stud in her ear. "All right. Erik, I want to know what my father wrote to you. Please, I have to see the letter you received when he died...I think I have a right to know, since this involves me."

Erik nodded. "You are right, this involves the both of us." He reached up to touch a button on the ceiling of the car and Christine watched as the dividing screen between them and the driver slid down. "Montar, I've changed my mind about the opera. We would rather return to the hotel."

"Yes sir." Montar replied.

Erik looked back to her. "I hope you don't mind; when we go to France I will take you to see _Aida_ some other time. This is more important."

Christine was silent as the limosouine cut through the thick traffic of Manhattan, gaining speed as it neared the Ritz. Erik guided her through the lobby and into the suite very quickly, he had no interest in wasting time. Christine took a seat on the sofa and watched as Erik dug through the briefcase he'd left on the dining room table.

After a moment, "Here it is." Erik moved towards her. "While Gabriel and I had been speaking for weeks before, that was usually over the phone or through e-mail. This is the letter that was sent to me on his death." He hesitated and put his hand over hers. "You'll be wanting privacy, so please, I will wait on the balcony. Come to me when you're ready."

Erik turned from her and went out to the balcony to once again revel in the view over the city. His hands tightly gripped the railing of the balcony and he sighed, wondering what Christine could be feeling and if she would go along with the task. Erik had felt lost since the day before when he'd seen her for the first time and realized that the girl he'd missed had lived and changed without him. They had known each other for nearly ten years in Shalimar, but he knew nothing of her now.

This new Christine was a stranger to him.

He lowered his head, apologizing to Gabriel for the fleeting thoughts of taking Christine as a lover. She was his friend, and more than that, she was the daughter of his late friend. Their bond was strong, but Erik couldn't allow his desire to cross a line and damage their friendship. He had too few true friends in the world to risk even one, but especially Christine.

Erik glanced over his shoulder, back into the suite. Christine had her face in her hands, he was sure that she was crying. He sighed again, and turned his eyes back towards the city. He wanted to go back inside and hold her, but he had promised her privacy. Gabriel's letter had been straightforward enough, short and concise. There would be no room for misunderstandings, Erik knew.

It had been Gabriel's hope that Christine would help Erik choose a wife.

* * *


	8. Where To Start?

**Erik,**

**It's a strange thing to know that you have been living on borrowed time- and if you're reading this then my time has come to an end. I've cried with my family and I'm exhausted with feeling angry about my fate. I've had enough of feeling sorry for myself and blaming everyone else for the hand I've been dealt. **

**Towards the end, I started to think about the beginning and I realized that I had no wish to die angry.**

**Why should I have been angry? I've had a wonderful life full of friends and family, not to mention that I've seen so many amazing things. There are a few things I regret, but many more that I'm thankful for. You've been the most interesting man I've ever met, Erik. You went from a businessman to a king overnight, overcoming so many obstacles and doing such good with your life even though I know you hate to admit that. I'd like to thank you, too, for granting me interviews when you'd refused every other journalist the opportunity- my partners at the paper were especially pleased, and I was awarded a few prizes thanks to your exclusives.**

**I want you to be happy, Erik. I can't think of a man more deserving of it than you. I know what you want, the wife and children- it's all any man wants! Christine has had a run of good luck in pairing off her friends; ask her for help in finding the wife you want, Erik. I know you trust her and she will be honest with you, she's become a perfect little matchmaker!**

**Christine won't steer you wrong, and as you two were so thick back in Shalimar I know you can't find a better friend than her...**

Christine folded Gabriel's letter and carefully slid it back into the envelope that Erik had given to her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and a large part of her felt numb. The things Gabriel had written pulled at her heart. The letter was dated several months back, but it felt as if he'd come back to her, speaking through a letter to Erik, urging him to use Christine as a matchmaker.

_This doesn't make any sense_, she thought dully.

It was true, Christine often acted as a sympathetic ear to her friends, offering sound advice that usually resulted in a resolution in their relationship problems. She had found that she had a talent for setting her friends up on dates. There had been one marriage resulting from her matchmaking and Gabriel had always joked that Christine might start a business.

That Gabriel had taken these lucky events so seriously was beyond ridiculous, and Christine felt a sharp stab of anger in her chest.

_I thought I loved him and you knew that; why would you think I would want to deliver him into the arms of another woman?!_

Christine took a deep breath. She had a letter of her own, to be given to her once her father's will and assets were sorted out. It was possible that Gabriel might have mentioned something about this in her own letter, but she still didn't know what to think. She glanced up toward the balcony and made out Erik's shape through the gauzy curtains. He was standing tall, leaning forward slightly to look out over the city.

They had only spent a day together but Christine knew herself; feelings cannot always be killed off with the passing of time. Erik had been her first awakening to passion, she had loved him since their first meeting when she had been a child, she had wanted him for months before they'd been separated. Even after coming to America she had dreamed of him, and as an adult she had thought of him as an unattainable fantasy; much like a crush on a celebrity, Erik had become to her an enticing thought but ultimately impossible.

Christine didn't know what she wanted now, for Erik or herself.

She didn't know if her feelings were real or if she was simply attracted to a man that she'd once had an infatuation for; either way, if she loved him or if she was deluding herself, Christine had no desire to help Erik find a wife to bear his children. She took a deep breath and wondered what to tell him.

_Am I being selfish? Erik wants to start a life for himself and dad only wanted me to help him. I don't even know how I feel about Erik- I hadn't seen him in five years before yesterday, we don't even know each other anymore!_

Christine felt like her mind could implode from such confusion. Truly, she didn't know how she felt about the situation.

She wasn't obligated to find a wife for Erik; her father had only been suggesting that she help rather than issuing a command the way Erik had made it sound at first. The suggestion in the letter had come across as so frivolous that Christine didn't know why Erik had even wasted the time to come to America to confront her about it.

_Unless..._

She shook her head and stood from the sofa, headed towards the balcony.

Erik glanced around when he heard the curtains rustle and Christine stepped forward to look out over the city with him. They stood in thick silence for a few moments before Christine spoke. "Do you want a wife, Erik?"

Her question took him by surprise, but he answered truthfully. "Yes, I do. There has never been a woman who could...Christine, you might not understand, but...I want what other men have, a wife, a family. The life that has been denied me. I have a house waiting for me in Paris, I'm ready to start looking for the wife that will make my house a home."

His words, while simple and hesitant, pierced Christine's heart. She turned to him. "I'll help you find her, Erik."

* * *

"It seems that the man knows what he wants, but to him a wife is this intangible, holy ideal. It's what he's wanted for so long and never been able to have because he was constantly obligated. Then there is that other issue..." 

Belinda listened as Christine recounted the night with Erik. The blonde had cleverly poured a bit of vodka for her cousin, just enough to encourage the conversation. She speared her fingeres through her hair and urged Christine on. "That other issue...?"

Christine took another sip. She knew Erik didn't like people to speak of his mask, but what harm could there be in discussing it with Belinda? Surely if she knew how he felt, her cousin wouldn't do anything foolish the next time she saw Erik, like demand that he remove it. Christine leaned forward, "He wears those masks constantly; even as close as we were, I've never seen his face. My father told me about the masks before I ever met him, when I was only six. I ignored the masks from then on."

Belinda raised her brows. "He wears a mask all the time? I thought he was just trying to hide his identity while he was here, you know? Trying to confuse anyone that might want to take a shot at Shalimar's king. How weird."

Christine shook her head. "He's a little odd, but I can't blame him for wishing to keep his face hidden. His face, it's...Erik wants respect and he gets it while the mask stays on. If he ever took it off, there would be no respect, there would only be pity."

Belinda frowned, not understanding. She shrugged to herself, figuring that this man and his need to cover his face was of no real concern to her. _Aren't the royals deserving of some privacy too?_ She idly wondered. Belinda sipped her own drink and blinked heavily.

The girls were very slender and rarely drank; even the smallest amount of vodka was having an effect on them.

"So what are you going to do? Take out an ad in the paper to find him a date and warn her about the masks ahead of time?"

Christine smiled. "Now there's an idea. I can't believe my father thought that just because I'd set up my friends, I could set Erik up too! This is ridiculous, look at the circus my life has become since Erik came back- and Erik, I can't believe that he would come all the way from Shalimar just because my father suggested that I could help him!"

Belinda couldn't help herself, she had to laugh.

Christine scowled. "This isn't funny."

"It's better than funny, it's unbelievable! You, a royal matchmaker. How are you going to do this, Christine? Have a sit-down with Erik and match his interests with every available princess in the rest of the world?" Belinda asked.

Christine shrugged. "I don't know where to start, but I guess it couldn't hurt to speak with Erik and at least gain an idea of what he's looking for..."

* * *

"So, what do you like to do?" 

Erik frowned. "Do?"

He repeated the word as if he had no idea what she was asking of him. Christine sat across from him on the chaise lounge in the main room of his hotel suite. She'd dressed casual on purpose, choosing her favorite pair of jeans, a light camisole and matching jacket. It was autumn in New York, true, but it was not yet time to break out her heavier coats and sweaters for the day. Erik thought she looked wonderful and still enticing, even though he hadn't been able to get the image of her red silk dress out of his mind.

She leaned forward slightly, and brought a small stenopad out from her purse. "Yes, I'll be needing to know your hobbies and things like that if I'm to help you bag a wife," Christine said, her head tilting slightly to the side as she smiled. She clicked a pen and turned to a blank page in her pad, prepared to take notes.

Erik sat up straighter on the sofa, his hands resting on his knees. He glanced away from her, looking uncomfortable. "I haven't had much time to myself for the past few years. Why are hobbies important?"

"Well, it's so we can find women who share your interests. You know, if you like dancing or art-"

"I do like to dance, and art always drew my attention...but I don't think it's enough." Erik said, more to himself than to her.

Christine furrowed her brow. He was acting strange. "Erik, are you all right?"

He glanced up. "Oh...no, I'm not, really. It's just...if I do find a suitable woman, I haven't much experience in..." His voice drifted away, and the small part of his neck that Christine could see was flooding with color. He was obviously very embarassed, having to speak of his personal life with her in this way.

Christine smiled, suddenly in the mood to have a little fun with him. "Erik, are you a virgin?"

At her question, Erik shot to his feet, his golden eyes catching the light from outside and nearly glowing at her. "I most certainly am _not!_ There have been dozens of women between Shalimar and France, the latest being Elita while I was-"

Christine glared at him, inwardly berating herself for having baited him to tell her of his past lovers. "All right, Erik. I was just wondering, that's all."

He returned her glare. "Would you like me to ask you the same thing?"

Christine shrugged. "I suppose not. If not in the bedroom, what had you meant when you said you didn't have experience? If not sex, then what...?"

Erik paced the length of the room, trying to get ahold of his overactive imagination. He tried, but it was difficult. Christine had not answered this new, heavy question between them. Was she still a virgin? There had been no question of her innocense when they'd shared the palace in Shalimar, but she was hardly that same girl he remembered. He understood that all too easily now. Now, that he was witness to the changes in her body; now that he had laid eyes on her in sophisticated silk dresses...now that he had admitted his desire for her to himself.

The disturbing thought of Christine making love with a man invaded his mind's eye. This interloper, this undeserving, lecherous seducer, this unnamed, faceless man that would take Christine into his arms, his bed, plundering first her mouth and then her body..._what the hell am I thinking of?!_

He ticked his head hard to the side to rid himself of the image.

Erik took a deep breath. He had to stop; their past friendship did not excuse the way he was starting to think of Christine. She was nothing to him anymore, certainly he had no right to become upset at the mere thought of her with another man!

He cleared his throat. "I...well, Christine...there is very little that I know of women outside of the bedroom, if you get my meaning." He explained vaguely, embarassed to reveal such a personal shortcoming. That he was well versed in the art of pleasure but knew little else of women went a long way towards painting him as a whoremonger, Erik knew.

That Christine might think that of him was unacceptable, and so he tried to explain that the arrangements made with the women he'd known in France and the few courtesans he'd taken in Shalimar were highly civilized. The women had understood his...unique circumstances. His reluctance to become deeply involved with anyone was easy to understand, and so no committments had ever been asked of him.

Erik had become a determined, generous lover. He'd never mistreated the women he'd taken, and he'd never been content to take what he wanted and then just leave- no, he repaid pleasure for pleasure. He was liberal with gifts as well, and though he often gave jewelry, Erik had never been inspired to have any of the women wear his ring.

He didn't want to go along that path for much longer. It was time that he take a wife, or at the very least, commit himself to one woman for longer than a number of nights.

Christine looked away from him. This was a side of Erik that she had known nothing of, and she didn't like it in the least.

_I don't know how I feel about you, Erik, but I don't want to hear any more about your women!_

She shifted uncomfortably on the lounge and then tossed the stenopad back into her bag. She stood up, facing him. Christine felt hurt and angry with him, almost as if he'd betrayed her somehow. All she could see was Erik making love to some sophisticated woman half the world away, probably pining away for him now as he gave her the vague details of his strange little affairs.

She moved to leave the suite, but Erik put a hand out to stop her, "No, Christine, please don't go-"

She rounded on him, "I don't want to hear any more of this! I'm leaving, Erik."

His eyes widened behind the mask, not understanding. "Why, what are you-?"

"I don't want to hear about your women, all right? Not their names, or your 'civilized arrangements' or anything else. God, Erik, I thought you were better than other men."

As Erik sat alone, long after Christine had left, he recalled her parting words and felt that he might have ruined things between them forever.

_I have to make this right..._

* * *

"Christine? I...I wanted to apologize for earlier today. There were things I never should have told you, and I understand that your view of me is changed for the worse, but...I still would love it if you would come to France with me. I promised you once, and I am not a man to break my word. I came to America only for you, please come back to me, to tell me what you've decided." 

Christine replayed and listened to Erik's message three times before she felt sure of her decision. She'd known that she had acted irrationally in the hotel suite earlier that morning. The main reason for her interview with him had been to gather information, to learn what it was that Erik was looking for in this yet to be found wife of his. Christine reflected that she shouldn't have prodded Erik about the physical aspect of his life; it was none of her business, after all.

She was only a girl that had been close to him once, or, as close as Erik allowed. He kept people, particularly women, at a safe distance. That much was clear to her now, but he wanted to change and he believed that he needed her help. It was not her place to judge his relationships, no matter how cold and impersonal she'd felt they were, given his descriptions.

Erik had only been trying to explain a vital piece of his past to her, his past in regards to the women that had moved in and out of his life. Christine feared an internal resurrection of her childish hope for Erik to turn to her and claim her as his woman. Things had changed; she was older and wiser, and she'd been hurt before. If she was hurt again, by Erik, Christine didn't know how she would survive it, for he will have broken her heart and destroyed the hope of friendship for the future.

Were her own feelings worth Erik's future happiness? His hope for a family?

Erik was a unique man, marred unjustly by life. He had so much to offer a woman outside of security, if only he could realize it for himself! There was a yearning in Erik. For acceptance, respect, kindness, love...he'd said that he only wanted what other men had. Why couldn't he see that he deserved that and more?

Christine sighed and dialed the Ritz hotel, leaving a message at the desk for Erik to join her for dinner.

After the way she'd behaved, she wouldn't be surprised if he did not return her call.

* * *

Christine sat, staring at the winelist of the restaurant but not absorbing any of the words. They were meaningless to her, since she didn't even like wine with her meals. Erik had not arrived just yet, but then Christine wasn't sure if he would arrive at all- she had not heard a word of him since earlier that afternoon on her answering machine. For all Christine knew, Erik might never have received the message she'd left at the hotel desk for him. 

It wouldn't have been the first time she'd eaten alone at the upscale restaurant. _Paradiso_ was reknown for its discretion and equal service. Celebrities regularly dined there, and while Christine was only a model, hardly worthy of a tabloid, there had been times when people had been unable to leave her alone when she was just trying to enjoy her lunch. Christine had quickly learned to be more selective of her choices when spending a night out, and most importantly, _Paradiso _wouldn't raise eyebrows at Erik's mask.

It was a perfect choice, if only Erik would join her!

Christine felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped, startled, and turned around to find Erik standing just behind her. "Erik, you scared me!"

His mouth quirked just slightly. "I didn't mean to. May I sit?"

She nodded, "Oh, sure, have a seat."

Erik sat down across from her, his usual grace seemingly muted now, for he was being extra careful. She watched him as he took a small sip from his water glass. "Christine, about earlier today-"

She held up her hands. "No, Erik, please. That was all my fault, I should never have asked you about that part of your life. It's none of my business how you handle your relationships, and I shouldn't have judged you. Can you forgive me?"

Erik reached for her hands and held them. "Christine, there is nothing to forgive. Anyone else would have reacted in the same way, I'm sure. The relationships I've had have been discreet, to say the least, but there was never any mistreatment on either side. Those women did deserve more from me, though. More than I was able or willing to give. I want that to change."

Christine nodded. "A wife." The very thought of Erik married to anyone else pierced her heart.

He squeezed her hands slightly. "Yes, Christine. A wife. A family. I want it all."

Her smile was painful. "And I will help you, Erik."

_Even though it will kill me._


	9. Escape

Christine swallowed thickly and hoped Erik wouldn't notice that her eyes were still slightly swollen from the night before. A cooling mask had helped, though not by much. She had gone home to cry after dinner with Erik; Christine still didn't know how she had managed to finish her meal and make pleasant company and smile and laugh when inside she'd been a raging storm of emotion.

She'd been angry, jealous, deeply resentful, guilty and confused- truly, she was more confused than anything else, she didn't understand her feelings for Erik, and more than that she was terrified that her heart was leading her right into another disaster. She had spent the night arguing with herself, speculating on all possibilities, chasing all scenarios.

Still, Christine knew that she could not back out of a commitment simply because of her own confusion. Her friend deserved better than that from her; Erik had no idea of her feelings, it was not his fault that she felt the way she did. Erik was only ready to settle down and start a family, and thanks to her late father, he beleived that he needed her help to do it.

Bizarre thoughts had chased each other in the dark as she'd cried and then tried to sleep, but ultimately, Christine knew that she could not refuse to help her old friend; her renewing infatuation was not worth the man's future.

So here she sat, once more, ready to interview this enigmatic man she'd thought she'd known so well, in the hopes of gaining an insight into the qualities that he was looking for in a wife.

_No sex questions this time_, Christine reminded herself. She'd been upset the night before, but she did find herself in brightening spirits that morning. She knew that Erik wouldn't be taken from her again so soon, and she had time spent alone with him in France to look forward to as well; wouldn't it be wise to make the most of the time she had alone with him while she could?

Besides, a wise man once said that knowledge was power...subconsciously, Christine knew that it could very well be to her advantage to know Erik's preferences in women, for better or worse.

She took out her stenopad and looked up at him. "All right, are you ready?"

Erik nodded from across the coffee table, once more seated at the sofa while she was on the chaise lounge. "Yes. Where should I start?"

Christine shrugged. "Likes, dislikes. Is there a...um, a specific type of woman that you find yourself drawn to?"

Erik glanced down at his hands, folding them in his lap. "I don't have a select type, no. More often than not, when a woman would strike me, it was something about her that was unique that would catch my attention. Sometimes it was a small detail that drew me- keen eyes, an adornment, a scent...the scent you wore on your first night here with me was very pleasing. It stayed on the pillows and sheets."

Christine felt bold heat creep into her cheeks. She had been hoping for Erik to make a remark outside of the perfunctory 'you look nice', but to find that she had pleased him in such an intimate way was more than flattering. Christine wondered if Erik was pleased by more than just her perfume.

Erik was watching her intently, wondering her reaction to his admission. He watched closely as she scribbled something on her notepad and then moved on to another question. He hoped that he hadn't made her uncomfortable.

Christine cleared her throat. "All right, what sort of qualities are you looking for?"

Erik took a deep breath and wondered how best to word his answers. He feared a repeat of Christine's anger from the night before, but how could he explain his past experiences without delving into the details that had so upset her? Even as king, Erik had never been in a position to have his choice of women. For many of the Shaliman courtesans, his wealth had not been a strong enough enticement to overcome their intimidation over his mask. Erik could not blame them, he knew the image he presented to the outside world: cold, remote, powerful.

He'd preferred it that way for years, but now he faced a need for change. His life was taking a new turn; he was nearly free of Shalimar, and ready to begin the life he'd spent so many years dreaming of in Paris. His thoughts turned to the loft he kept there, the loft that he intended to become his family's home in the city.

Erik knew he was getting ahead of himself. Before he had a family, he needed to find a woman to become his wife. That would prove to be the most difficult task. He considered Christine's question and glanced down at his hands again. They were gloved, as always. He sighed slightly and wondered where he could find a woman that he could touch, skin to skin.

He looked up to Christine once more. She was looking at him expectantly. So beautiful she was, so bright and wonderful. He had missed her while she was gone, and he'd thought of her often in their time apart. She was the same girl he remembered so fondly, and yet she was also this young woman he now wanted in his life and in his bed. He didn't care that it was wrong to think of her in that way any longer, so long as he did not cross the line by acting on this new desire...

Erik glanced away from her eager eyes. He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly restrained in his dark suit. "The woman...I would prefer for her to be intelligent. Someone I could speak with about art, politics...I'd like her to be kind, civil and sophisticated. Accepting. There would be respect between us."

"What about love?"

Erik looked up. "What?"

Christine set her notes aside and leaned forward. "You speak only of kindness, civility and respect, but what about love, Erik?"

He stood from the sofa and moved across the room to look out the window. New York was below, hustling by with every reason and right to carry on, unknowingly being watched over by a masked king. Christine watched Erik, relying solely on his body language to determine his feelings.

The man stood tall, but there was a slight droop to his shoulders and his head bowed forward in resignation. He turned to her, "I will be content so long as she could love our children, Christine. Her civility to me, her respect and fidelity will be enough. Perhaps a friendship could come of our time together if I am fortunate, and I would hope for that, but I am also realistic." He said, motioning to his mask.

His frank delivery did nothing to ease this new ache in Christine's heart. That Erik would take a wife, knowing the woman did not love him, was testimony to the expectations he had formed for himself.

_Does he think no woman could love him? Oh, Erik..._

Christine felt the salt sting of tears in her eyes and she looked away from him, determined not to let Erik see her cry. She had cried over him the night before, and before that she had cried for him too many times to count. Hadn't she shed enough tears for him?

A hand closed over her shoulder. Erik sat down beside her on the lounge and turned her to face him. Carefully, he dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. "Christine, come now. No tears. I think it would be wise for us to suspend these interview sessions, don't you? We haven't had much luck so far." Erik said, trying to lighten her mood.

Christine leaned forward and hugged him. Erik raised his brows behind the mask. _Why does she cry, and then embrace me? I don't understand this girl. This beautiful woman..._

Erik closed his eyes and let his arms wind around Christine's pleasingly slender waist. Her scent, the same scent he recalled from their first night together, rose to his senses. She was soft and very warm, lovely and desirable; she had come to him with no expectations, no condemnation in her eyes.

_Alluring, so beautiful..._

He stroked her hair, damning his gloves and longing to truly touch her. His hands remained on her waist as he pulled back to look into her face. "Do not cry, Christine."

She blinked rapidly to rid herself of tears. Her hand lifted and she touched his mask. "Erik, why can't you believe a woman could love you? Don't you want anything more in your life?"

Startled, he pushed her hand away from his mask and rose to stand over her. "Please, Christine! Do not speak to me of love. Not all of us were intended for that."

Erik was defensive, but not angry with her for questioning his judgement. _She is beautiful, she cannot understand..._

Christine lowered her head. Erik kneeled down before her, cupping her face and bringing her eyes to meet his. "Christine, I'm sorry. Please try to understand me- I knew that when the time came for me to have a wife, if I could find a woman willing to give herself to me, I knew it would have to be this way."

Christine didn't know what she could say to that.

Erik took hold of a free lock of hair and gave it a gentle tug, the same way he did when they'd been together in Shalimar. "To you, my expectations must sound very sad but I've had years to think things through. A practical marriage may be the best thing for me." He said, lightly stroking her cheek. Again, he damned the gloves that prevented genuine contact.

Something changed in the air between them then, some unseen connection formed. Erik felt a rush of heat sweep down his back, triggering desire for the young woman that sat before him. It was her scent, invading him, driving his thoughts, coaxing his body. Christine moved her face closer to his, her eyes holding his as her lips parted...

_No, damn you, don't!_

Erik stood up and put some distance between them. They had been too close, and he had been within a hair's breath of kissing her. That could not happen, so for the sake of any future friendship with Christine, Erik knew he would have to get a better handle on his attraction to her.

Christine nodded. "I think you're right, Erik. We shouldn't talk any more about this until sometime later. We should just...enjoy each other while we can." She said, her voice quiet and somewhat resigned.

Erik held out his hand and pulled Christine from the lounge. They had spent several days together already, and not one of the days had been free of tears or heavy emotion. Erik only ever wished to see Christine smile from now on, and he determined not to upset her again. "Let's try again for the opera tonight, would you like that?"

She smiled, and Erik felt better already. "Yes, Erik, that's a wonderful idea."

He nodded. "Right. I'll pick you up tonight at eight."

* * *

Christine did not return directly to her apartment after visiting with Erik earlier in the day. She went by her agency to pick up a copy of the final print for her _Tiffany_ campaign, and was both surprised and delighted to find a gift from the photographer she'd worked with on the shoot waiting for her- interestingly, his gift was a pair of sapphire earrings and a matching velvet silk choker, both chosen from the lastest _Tiffany_ collection. 

Clara, the agency receptionist made goo-goo eyes and kissy noises at Christine as she put on the earrings. The choker she would save for the opera later in the night. Though Clara was being obnoxious, the earrings did include a "no pressure" invitation to dinner. Christine smiled. The photographer had been notably respectful and very creative; no doubt that _Tiffany_ would find a great many new fans after the launch of the campaign in only a few more days' time.

Her spirits lifted as the day wore on; New York was alive and in her veins, pounding out a drumbeat for love and strength and freedom. She stepped into a Starbucks and took her coffee to a bench in Central Park. Christine let her eyes wander as people moved up and down jogging paths with all variety of friendly dogs and happy children. She thought of her father, dead and gone, but never forgotten.

Why had Gabriel written to Erik? What had they spoken of before he'd died?

Christine wondered if Gabriel had deliberately urged Erik back into her life knowing that it would only open the old wounds from her first infatuation, but of course that was absurd. Christine had put so much effort into avoiding any mention of Erik after they'd settled in America, she had been sure that Gabriel would have assumed she'd forgotten about him all together.

_If only he knew!_

Why then, had Gabriel gotten into contact with Erik again? None of it made much sense to Christine, but all the same she was glad that Erik was back in her life once more, even now as the man twisted her thoughts and emotions. He acted differently towards her now; treating her as the adult she was, rather than the child she'd been.

Christine liked it, though at the same time she felt unsure of how to sort out her own feelings for the man.

_Enough already!_

Christine downed the last of her coffee and headed towards Kalila's townhouse. It was the space that she had shared with Gabriel since their move to America and, unbeknownst to Christine, the house had been a gift from Erik. Christine had not seen Kalila since Gabriel's funeral, and she chided herself for not having checked in on her stepmother sooner.

Erik had provided her a great distraction from the loss of her father during the past several days, but oddly enough when Christine thought of Gabriel she focused only on the happier times they'd shared. His suffering had ended, and she would see him again in the afterlife; that Gabriel was gone still tore at her heart, but speaking with Erik that first night had gone a long way towards healing.

Christine made it up to the front door of the townhouse and let herself inside; she had lived with Gabriel and Kalila until just under a year ago, when Belinda had coaxed her into leaving the family nest. "Kalila? Are you home?" Christine called.

Her switch to Shaliman was effortless; her every visit with Erik had acted as a refresher course in the language, as he was not completely fluent in English and she couldn't speak a word of French. "Kalila?" She called out again.

Shrugging, Christine headed into the kitchen and began scrounging for food. Despite being a model, Christine did have a healthy appetite. The stereotype of anorexic models was greatly exaggerated as far as Christine was concerned; she was naturally slender, true, but she credited her body to exercise and a healthy diet.

Finding a dish leftover from the night before, Christine began to serve herself a plate. It was a Shaliman meal, lamb kabobs with rice and glazed pears. She heard movement upstairs and figured that Kalila must have been napping or in the shower when she'd first come in. Setting her lunch aside, Christine headed upstairs towards the noise.

"Kalila?" She called again.

"I'm in my room, Christine, you may come in." Kalila called back to her. Christine stepped into the master bedroom and found Kalila in her robe, having just come out of the shower. The older woman was petite and her coloring reflected the majority of the Shaliman people, bronzed skin topped off with dark hair and even darker eyes.

Kalila was blotting the water from her long hair. She smiled at Christine. "What's brought you to visit? Is everything all right?"

Christine shrugged, bracing herself in case Kalila intended to speak about Gabriel. She had loved her father deeply, but she was exhausted with emotion; the man she remembered had been long gone, it was only his sick, wretched body that had died. Gabriel should be celebrated, not mourned.

She nodded. "Yes, Kalila, I'm fine. And you?"

Kalila paused. "I miss your father very much. I loved him, but I am relieved that his suffering finally ended. We will be reunited in the end, I think." Kalila turned to her and smiled. "He wouldn't have wanted us to grieve, you remember? He said, 'when you think of me, I don't want your tears, I want your smiles.'"

Christine nodded. "Yes, I remember he did say that, months before he died. I'll always miss him. Kalila, I wanted to see if you were doing all right, but I also had to ask you a few questions."

Kalila motioned for Christine to turn around so that she could dress, and Christine obliged by turning to face the wall.

She could hear drawers opening and material rustling as Kalila chose her clothes for the day. "What things?"

Christine cleared her throat. "Did dad ever mention anything about getting into contact with Erik again in the past few weeks?"

"Erik? The king?"

"The one and only, Kalila." Christine smiled. "Did you know that he and dad had been in contact for the past couple months or so?"

Kalila pulled on a sweater and led Christine back downstairs. "I did notice that your father had been spending time on the computer, but I'd thought nothing of it. I only supposed that he was working on his column or reviewing articles. How did you find out he was speaking with our king?"

Christine wondered how she could explain away that she had been with Erik for the past several days. She took a deep breath. "Well, Erik is here in the city, he's staying at the Ritz-Carlton hotel. He came to my apartment and showed me a letter that dad wrote to him that suggested I help him find a wife, but before I do that we're going to share his loft in Paris for about a month and then he's going to officially abdicate to Kumar."

Kalila stared at her, shocked. "Our king is here? Wh- I don't understand, go back."

Christine flopped onto the living room sofa and recounted everything to Kalila, from Erik's first visit to her apartment to their interview that morning. Naturally, Christine omitted the strange tension she felt whenever she and Erik were alone, not to mention her intensely confused feelings toward the man.

"...and we're going to Paris soon, and after that he will officially abdicate." She finished.

Kalila sat across from her, confused as ever. "You are to assist Erik in selecting a wife? What madness!"

Christine laughed. "That's exactly what I thought! From the letter, it sounds like dad just thought I could help Erik but he's taking this way too seriously. Helping him to choose a wife is a responsibility I didn't ask for. But...I've found that Erik does need help, and I've already agreed to help him once we get to France. I just thought you should know about this before I leave."

Kalila nodded. "This is a strange situation, Christine. Will there be a chaperone to stay with you while you are in Paris with him?"

Christine rolled her eyes, the familiar irritation stirring within. "No, there will be no chaperone. Erik and I will be staying together in his loft, alone. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman now, not a kid anymore. You have no reason to question Erik, he's never been anything but wonderful to me."

Kalila sat up straighter. "It is not proper for an unmarried man and woman to share the same house-"

Christile felt like she could pull out her hair. "Are you joking? Those customs belong in Shalimar, not in France and certainly not in America. The rules change with where you go in the world, Kalila, haven't you noticed that yet? I'm staying with Erik in Paris, and I promise you that nothing unseemly will happen...but if it does, why would that be such a terrible thing?" She demanded.

As they spoke, Christine suddenly wanted to know why it was that her father had been so determined to keep her away from Erik. Christine had spent ten years as a citizen of Shalimar; she knew its customs even better than she knew those of America. Though she'd been young, Gabriel could have spoken to Erik about a future possibility of courtship, he could have let her stay with Erik when she had felt such love for him; instead, Gabriel had done his best to discourage her from seeing her friend.

Why?

Kalila frowned. "Do not bring up that old arguement, Christine. You know very well why Gabriel thought it best to keep you apart. What grown man spends so much time with a child? It was bizarre, but then Erik had always rejected the conventions of Shalimar. His suits, his French foods and music. He is a strange man, but good. If you wish to stay with him in Paris, I will not stop you, Christine. I only worry for your image."

Christine felt her anger die away. At the end of the day, she'd always known that both Gabriel and Kalila had only wanted what was best for her. It was pointless to argue about such things now. She stood and hugged her stepmother. "I know you worry, Kalila, and I thank you for caring so much. As you said, Erik is strange but good. I...I will endeavor to find him a deserving wife." Christine said. The words were false in her heart; she didn't think she would ever be able to give Erik over to another woman, especially one that couldn't love him in the way he deserved.

Kalila walked Christine to the door. "Come to see me before you go to Paris, I'll make dinner. Oh, and when will I see that _Tiffany_ print that had you so excited?"

Christine smiled and gestured to the kitchen table, where she had left her poster in its packing-tube. "I just came from my agency, the ads will go out to print in a few days." She unrolled the print and laid it flat over the surface of the table. "Here, do you like it?"

Kalila looked over the poster carefully. "Christine, it's very...striking."

Happily, Christine had to agree.

* * *

"I think it looks fantastic, aunt Kali must have been shocked." Belinda laughed as she looked over the print for herself. 

Christine smiled. "You wouldn't be wrong there. There are definite perks to this job," she said, pulling back her hair to show off her new earrings, "But shocking Kalila with every new add is definitely the best part." She laughed.

"And what about Erik? How do you think he'll like the ads?" Belinda asked as she slicked on a coat of mascara. Christine wasn't the only one with such an active social life; Belinda had a date with an artist she'd met the weekend before at a gallery opening. Sean was polite and spontaneous and very fun; Belinda had put her life on hold to mourn for Gabriel, but life's somber realities often made her uncomfortable. Belinda had figured that if the man's daughter could return to enjoying life, then his niece was certainly entitled!

Christine shrugged, unsure herself what Erik might think when he next opened a magazine and saw her with a king's ransom of diamonds dripping around her throat. She had not told him what she did for a living, but then again, Erik had never asked. She wondered if perhaps he knew already and simply hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps Gabriel had told him.

"I'll tell him tonight, or I might let him see the ads for himself. What does it matter, anyway? His mother was a fashion model in Paris, or so I've been told. He's never shown me her picture." Christine said as she tugged on her new sapphire earring.

Belinda slipped on a bracelet and struck a pose, "How do I look?" She had dressed for a night out, flashy colors and clinging fabircs hugged her slim body.

Christine smiled. "_Tres chic."_

_"Ah, merci, merci."_

"I have to start learning a little French since I'm going to Paris. Some of the words are actually similar to Shaliman, it's a big help."

Belinda pulled on her jacket and wished Christine a good night as Sean arrived at the door to pick her up. Christine watched them as they started down the street, hand in hand and looking starstruck at the sight of each other. Their relationship was in its infancy, but Christine liked them together, she thought they were a fitting suit, both of them so in love with life, impulsive and playful.

_Can I find a match for Erik?_ She wondered. A woman that he would find attractive, a woman he could spend time talking to, develop a friendship with, have a family with...she sighed and pressed her forehead against the cold window, thinking how her renewed feelings for Erik were in serious danger of hurting her again.

The apartment doorbell rang and Christine smiled at her own foolishness, wondering if there was a red mark on her face now. She crossed the apartment and checked the peephole. Erik was on the other side of the door, pacing and seeming very agitated. Christine glanced at her watch.

_It's barely past 6:30, what is he doing here so early?_

Christine opened the door. "Erik, is everything all right?"

He crossed the threshold and faced her, his tiger eyes gleaming and his mouth set in a grim line. "Everything is...Christine, do you trust me?" He asked, taking hold of her hands in his.

His erratic behavior was making her nervous, she only wanted to know what was happening. "You know I do, Erik. Please. What happened?" She asked, raising her hand to rest over his shoulder.

Her touch had a calming effect over the man. He took a deep breath and some of the chaotic fire died from his eyes. He was quiet for a time, the two of them simply standing in the warm light of her home. Erik raised his hands to her face, cupping her, bringing her closer. "Christine...will you come with me to Paris tonight?"


	10. Tactic

Of course Christine had said yes. Yes, she would go with Erik. To Paris, at the drop of a hat, without question. As she glanced out the window, Christine reflected on her actions in her apartment and realized that she would have gone to the ends of the earth, so long as Erik was with her. She would follow him anywhere.

Foolish? No doubt. Careless and stupid was quite fitting.

Christine had barely made the time to pack a bag before following Erik down to the street where his limousine and body guards awaited them. He'd been intent to leave for Paris that night, with or without her, and for whatever reason, Christine was relieved that he had thought of her at all.

Would he have left without leaving word for her?

Would he have attended to Paris and then come back for her?

Christine didn't know if Erik placed much importance on her, outside of the help he thought she could provide in finding a wife for him. She also didn't know exactly why it was that Erik had appeared in such a rush to go to France. The man had not provided her with an explanation. He'd been erratic at her apartment and remote in the car and the plane.

After they'd both settled into the plush backseat of the car, Erik had taken out a cell phone and Christine had listened with rapt attention to his side of the conversation. He had been speaking French, and she had felt herself grow heated simply from his deep voice forming the elegant words. She had rarely ever heard him speak French at length when they had been in Shalimar- he'd only taught her to say a few simple words, "bonjour", "adieu", "le soliel" and "lune" were a few she could remember.

She sipped her Ginger Ale and glanced behind her. Erik had disappeared to the back room before she had even buckled her seatbelt. They were not flying commercial; besides the obvious trouble of delays and the general suspicion he would face for keeping his face covered, Erik liked his privacy. Christine assumed that she was now sitting in the jet he had used to travel the world, both as a king and a diplomat. The back room likely had a bed provided for weary flyers. Was Erik still on his phone or had he decided to take a long nap?

Christine imagined herself walking back there to find him sleeping, or even better, naked. He would look into her eyes, drawn her to him, press her down against the sheets...

_Get your mind out of the gutter_, she chided herself, smiling slightly and sure she was blushing scarlet.

Christine took out her iPod and tuned in to her music for awhile. She had done her fair share of traveling, but she had always flown business class, or, if the agency could provide it, first. Still, those planes were nothing compared to the comfort that surrounded her now. Erik's jet was luxurious, and he took such luxury in stride. Christine had seen him smile at the polite and admittedly beautiful stewardess before slipping into the back room. She hadn't seen him since, and it had been a touch over two hours already.

Christine sighed and raised the volume on one of her favorite playlists.

She had made calls to Kalila, her agency and had left a message on Belinda's voicemail informing them of her new travel plans. Kalila had been upset that she was leaving so abruptly, but at the same time her stepmother could understand- when a king issued an invitation, one did not think twice about accepting.

Christine was relieved that her agency was lenient with her- her travel plans were her own, so long as she obeyed the conditions of her contract and didn't do any foreign print work while she was away. Work was the last thing on her mind- Christine was growing irritated by Erik's lack of an explanation, not to mention that he had practically ignored her since the plane took off.

_I want to know what's happening, but I don't want to bother him. He'll come to see me when he's finished doing...well, whatever it is he's doing back there._

The stewardess came to her, offering another drink. Christine chose a blanket instead, tilted her chair back and tried to rest her eyes.

* * *

The ground beneath her seemed to tilt. Christine became distantly aware of things as her head rolled forward slightly, and started awake when she felt something warm and solid beneath her cheek. Christine gasped and looked around the cabin wildly. Yes, she remembered it all. Erik in her apartment, Erik inviting her to Paris. Erik in the back room of the pla- 

Christine looked to her right to find Erik in the chair beside her. He had tilted his seat back to match hers, and somehow, perhaps in his sleep, he had reached out to her, drawing her in to him. They were very close, she'd only been startled awake by the plane dipping slightly in the sky.

Beside her, Erik murmured something in his sleep and shifted. She wondered if he'd just said something in French or if he had gone back to their shared language, Shaliman. He seemed uncomfortable, and no wonder: no matter how luxurious, an airplane seat was no match for a bed, and Erik's long body was not an ideal fit to the chair.

The twin holes in his mask were blank, no gold flashed at her from their depths. The cabin was dark, but Christine could make out the dim sight of his closed eyelids. Erik was asleep. She had never been so close to him before, nor ever imagined that Erik could be so vulnerable. It was strange to see him like this, so open to attack and embrace. She reached forward and traced the contour of his mask with the pad of her forefinger; it was cold and smooth, deep ebony and molded to fit the planes of his true face.

She had overheard people in the palace mentioning his face, but she didn't dare lift it to see him for herself. It wouldn't be right.

His hand twitched in his sleep, and Christine realized that it had somehow come to rest on her thigh. Strangely, she didn't mind, but she thought he might be embarassed upon waking.

Trying not to laugh, Christine lifted his hand and settled it on his stomach. _If Kalila could see me now!_

* * *

A few hours later, Erik stood over Christine for a time and watched as she slept. He couldn't help himself. She was so beautiful, and strangely, she was the first woman that he had trusted enough to sleep with. He had known down to his bones that even if she woke while he slept on, Christine would not be tempted to take his mask away from him and fill her eyes with his true face.

He'd only just got off the phone and come out to find Christine sleeping soundly. Ignoring the looks from his near-silent bodyguards, Montar especially, Erik had been unable to stop himself from settling down on the chair beside her. He'd been unable to stop himself as well from drawing her in closer once under the cover of the dark. He'd reasoned that he could justify himself by saying that Christine had appeared cold and he had only wanted to warm her.

Thankfully, Christine had slept on and he'd no need to explain himself.

The small smile fell from his lips. He would need to explain why he'd had to return to France without giving her the chance to even prepare herself. No wonder she'd slept so easily!

_It's just as well_, he tought. _We'll be landing soon and I can explain everything once we reach my loft in the city._

Erik sat down in the seat beside her and toyed with the thought of removing his glove to touch her face, just once, while she slept. Her cheek would be soft and warm, he knew, and it had been so long since he'd truly touched a woman...

_She wouldn't know,_ a voice baited him. _Touch her, just this once. What could be the harm? She would never know..._

_But I'd know_, he fired back, closing out the thought all together.

Erik had to be satisfied with simply reaching over to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. His glove prevented any feeling at all. The new sapphire in her earlobe sparked in the sun coming in from the window, dazzling his eyes for a moment. Erik blinked. The earrings were lovely, the sort of gift a man might give to a woman. He should know; he'd given plenty of similar gifts to his lovers over the years.

He frowned slightly, and hoped that Christine would tell him she'd bought the earrings herself if he decided to ask.

"Christine," he whispered her name. The girl did not stir.

"Christine," he tried again, stroking her arm.

She came awake and blinked several times to regain her surroundings. She rubbed her face and looked at him. "Hello Erik. Is it morning?" She asked as she moved to sit upright.

Erik nodded. "Only just. I'm sorry, I know it's been a long flight. Happily, we'll be landing in less than fifteen minutes."

"Oh. Are you ever going to tell me why you had to come to Paris so quickly? It must be important since you practically fled the country." Christine said easily as she stretched her arms out in front of her.

Erik smiled in amusement at her easy way of speaking. "I am sorry about all the secrecy, and for staying on the phone for so long. Things have been hectic since yesterday afternoon, shortly after you left my suite, actually."

She yawned delicately and pulled a pack of mint gum from her purse. Erik declined her offer of a stick.

"So what happened?"

Erik shrugged. "Just your usual bit of business: blackmail, incriminating evidence, mutinous lies and rumors..."

Christine smiled and nodded. "Someone found where you hid the bodies, didn't they?"

Erik returned her smile with a tilt of his own lips. "Oh, Christine. If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

She laughed, the sound was so welcome to his ears.

* * *

After the plane landed, Erik bid farewell to his bodyguards. They had made the special trip with him to New York, but they had their own families to look after in Shalimar, and wished to return. Erik understood, and so released them. All save Montar, who insisted on remaining nearby to help with any small request Erik might have in his time before the abdication. 

Erik was too tired to argue, and so Montar drove them into the heart of Paris where his loft was kept.

Exhausted, Erik led Christine into an elevator that lifted them eight floors above the ground below. Erik felt his energy drop at the merest thought of the bed inside that awaited him. He didn't usually find himself so weary from travel, but the past several hours spent on his cell phone had been very demanding. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to recharge.

Somehow, he'd pictured his life as being much easier once he was free of his imposed kingship and yet he was under only a little less stress. People depended on him still, people that needed his attention and care. How would he ever find a wife when there were so many other demands on his time?

Erik ticked his head slightly. Now was not the time to think of that.

He had to get a handle on the problems that had called him away from New York, and once he'd managed them, he could get back to entertaining his pretty guest. He stole a glance at Christine and felt his lips quirk into a small smile. She stood beside him, her own tired gaze trained on the chic bronze doors of the elevator as they were lifted to his loft.

She was just as alluring as she'd been in New York, even while she was tired and mussed from the long plane ride.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding on his floor, and Erik stepped out. Christine followed a few steps behind him, observing that he lived in a very fashionable building. Despite that she was tired, Christine was eager to see Erik's loft. Here was his private home, the space where he planned to house his wife and start his family.

Erik brought out a pair of keys and opened the door; he stepped to the side to allow Christine inside first.

She winked at him and took three steps over the threshold. She paused to take in the sight of the private loft she was to share with him for the next several weeks. The ceilings were high, the windows large and bright, the floors were polished dark wood. His living room was sunken inward, giving the impression that his loft was a grand cave-like structure. There was a large stone fireplace with a Persian style rug just before it, flanked on both sides by deep leather sofas and a plain glass coffee table.

It was deep, masculine, and suited Erik perfectly. The thin scent of spice hung in the air, the scent of Erik. She could feel him moving behind her, settling her travel bag on the floor beside the doorway.

Christine looked around, somehow disappointed to see that there were no paintings or pictures on the burgundy walls- they were in fact bare. She turned her attention to a staircase that she assumed led to bedrooms and then looked past it to see a fine kitchen, complete with state-of-the-art appliances. Everything was so clean, nothing was out of place. Did Erik actually live in this loft or did he only keep it as an asset?

She heard Erik close and lock the door behind him. "Well, what do you think?"

Christine allowed her eyes one more sweep of the loft, from the bare living room to the cold kitchen. "It's very nice, Erik, it just-"

"Yes?"

She shrugged. "Well, it feels cold. I don't mean the temperature, I mean that it feels like no one lives here. It's a wonderful space, but it just doesn't feel very lived-in. How long have you kept this place?"

Erik stepped beside her, trying to see the space through her eyes. At her question, he laughed. "I've kept it for years. Before I became king, even. You are right though, this place is not lived-in at all because I haven't actually lived here. Even those few times I left Shalimar to come to Paris, I felt as if I'd been staying in another hotel. No room service here, but the view is beyond compare." He said, pointing to the center window, which gave a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower.

"But you are going to stay here once you...well, once you get married?"

Erik shrugged. "I suppose, while it is me and the wife here alone. When she becomes pregnant I will make arrangements for a house outside of the city. She might not wish to be in such a crowded area once our children come along." He mused, and shook his head. "Listen to me! Here I am going on about children with a wife I haven't even laid eyes on yet! I am a fool, I know, and I beg your forgiveness. I know you must be tired, my love, come let me show you to your room." He said, resting his hand on the small of her back.

If Erik noticed the way Christine shivered at his touch, he did not mention it.

Christine let Erik lead her up the stairs to the second level of the loft where he'd had the second bedroom prepared for her. "I'll make you something to eat downstairs, you might want to lie down for a while, Christine. You seem a bit pale." He advised with concern.

Erik stepped out of the door and Christine sat down heavily on the bed. He had a plan built up in his mind of the kind, "civil" wife that would bear his perfect children. Picturing Erik with his woman, knowingly entering into a loveless marriage, taking her to his bed, making her pregnant with his children...

Erik had said she looked pale, but was it any wonder, given her feelings? Christine felt that she could scream at the thought of Erik taking another woman to bed. Then she would have to stifle the scream in her throat for being so stupid as to let her old feelings take over once more.

Christine felt a hard throbbing well up in her temples and she wearily stood up, nearly staggering into the bathroom that connected to her room. She thought for a moment that she could be sick, but she took a deep breath and ordered herself to focus. She turned the faucet, cupped her hands and took a drink of water, then splashed her face.

The cold water awoke gooseflesh all over her body and did the trick to snap her mind into sharper focus. _It's the time change, just the jet lag. You'll be all right in a day or two..._

Christine stepped out of the plain bathroom and took a look around the room. It was plain, but not unpleasant. The bed was full size and draped with sheets that reminded her of the term _cafe au lait_- a deep coffee brown comforter was underlined by crisp cream linen sheets. The pillows were matching. The walls were a slightly deeper shade of cream and interestingly, small pictures did adorn the walls of the room.

Christine stepped up for a closer look and found the small pictures were grouped in a grid fashion, four of the same size and shape, hanging on the wall above the bed. She smiled once she recognized the pictures as being different areas of the Shaliman gardens. The top left picture was the image of the fountain they'd so long used as their secret meeting place.

Perhaps Erik had thought of her over the years, as she had thought of him...

Christine stepped back into the bathroom to check her appearance and felt another wave of nausea at her reflection. Her hair was stringy and Erik had been right: her face was pale and gaunt, slight circles hung under her eyes. She groaned slightly and retrieved her purse, looking for lotion and makeup and, God help her, a hairbrush.

_I look like a damn trainwreck!_

She smoothed the wrinkles in her shirt as best she could and tried to make herself look more presentable, but there was no substitute for a good night's sleep and a full stomach. She felt her stomach rumble as she forced the brush through a thick tangle.

Sudden voices were coming from downstairs. Erik's deep voice was mingling with that of a woman. Christine moved quickly down the stairs, ready to confront whatever woman it was that was keeping Erik from her. In a distant part of her mind, Christine knew she was being crazy, but she could not help herself where Erik was concerned.

She strode into the kitchen to find a very pretty woman about Erik's age with him. She was on the petite side, with a carefully cropped bob of straight blonde hair. The woman was obviously flirting, in her eyes Christine could read it all. Her deep gray orbs practically screamed,_ I want you_.

Christine was not one for catty, jealous scenes- there had never been a man in her life that could elicit such hostility within her, but at the smallest hint of a flirtation, Christine did not hesitate to move forward and intrude on them. Erik's back was to her, but the woman, Christine could see easily. The other woman paused in her conversation to look at who had just enered the room.

_That's right, look at me_. Christine silently dared the woman. _Look at me, I am young, I am beautiful. Erik is mine, and you are only wasting your time here. Leave us. Now._

Perhaps her time as a model had made Christine subconsciously arrogant, but she knew without a doubt that, even as haggard as she might appear, she was more attractive than this interloper. It was a silent, undeclared war between all women that fought for the attention of man. Christine stood at her full height and placed her hands on her hips.

Erik turned to her. "Oh, Christine, I'm sorry, I was distracted. This is Cecile, a neighbor I haven't seen in months. We've just been catching up." He said, his Shaliman lightly accented now after spending most of the day speaking his native French.

Christine nodded, not wishing to seem rude in front of Erik. "I see. It's no bother. Would you like me to leave?"

Erik shook his head. "No, no. She was only here to say hello."

"Ah, well. Now that you've said _bonjour_, perhaps you'd like to say_ adieu_. This way, I can make you something to eat." Christine hinted.

Erik knew that something was different about Christine now, but he couldn't put his finger on what. He had had women cook for him before, but that Christine had volunteered to serve him was a swift change of pace. Erik was tempted to tell her that he would eat dirt if it would please her.

He smiled at her French. "Your pronunciation is very good. Let's set out a lunch and perhaps I could teach you a little more, and while we're at it, perhaps you might help me with my English?"

Christine smiled then, and put her hand on his shoulder in a show of possession to the enigmatic Cecile.

Erik nodded and moved to usher Cecile to the door. The woman threw a glare at Christine over her shoulder, to which Christine only grinned.

_I win._


	11. A Day In Paris

In the morning, Christine was amused at the irony that such a powerful inward awakening could occur while she slept.

She wasn't sure what it was- perhaps it was the change in location that signaled their limited time together or perhaps it had been seeing him with an interested woman- but for whatever reason, Christine had come to the very direct and final decision that she wanted Erik for herself, and this time, she meant to have him.

Determination, steely and strong, throbbed in her veins.

All she wanted was a chance; it wasn't enough that Erik now recognized her as a woman, she yearned for him to see her as _his_ woman. She wanted him to want her, to want her as a lover. The wounded pride of her past demanded a vegeance that would come in the form of Erik's desire.

_I'll make him want me as he's wanted no other woman before- I loved him once and I love him now. If only you could see it, Erik, if only you could feel it!_

Christine stared up at the ceiling of her plain cream room, listening to the silence. She glanced at her watch and then set it back on the nightstand- she had not yet adjusted the hands to reflect the time change between New York and Paris. Unless it truly was nearly four in the afternoon, Christine would have to correct her watch later in the day. She slowly moved to sit up on the edge of the bed, placing her feet flat on the floor. Clearing her throat, she then stood and moved to the window. Heavy chocolate curtains hung down to the floor, blocking hateful sunlight from entering into her room.

She drew the drapes back to see that Paris was still sleeping, as she should be. Christine had slept for a few hours, but after that it had become impossible. The time change and thoughts of Erik had flown in and out of her mind, chasing away all hope for sleep.

She only wished to be considered as more than just Christine, the girl Erik remembered from Shalmar. He had recognized that she had grown into a woman, but Christine knew that in his mind, he might still think of her as a child. As it was, Christine figured that Erik might see her as a sort of personal assistant: she was there to help him find a suitable wife; a woman of appropriate age, health and intelligence to bear him healthy children and provide Erik with someone to talk to and offer the relef that only a woman's body could give.

Erik wasn't looking for a friend or a lover in the true sense of the word. He had explained to Chrisine back in New York; he had no hopes for love, his expectations ran to companionship, but no further. She knew Erik had his reasons, his life had not been an enviable one. Even during his time as king, when anything should have been available to him, Erik had remained lonely, isloated from a woman's caress or even a friend's reassurance.

Not for the first time, Christine pictured how it could have been, had she been allowed to stay on with Erik in Shalmar, free of her parents' overbearing caution. She would have done everything in her power to help the man; whether he'd needed someone to talk to or even if he'd only wanted her in his bed, Christine would have done whatever he'd asked. Her loyalty was strong; for all the time she'd spent absorbing American culture, Christine was still a Shaliman woman at heart.

Years before, Christine had chosen Erik as her man; in Shaliman belief, her soul would be restless until her love could be returned.

She pictured Erik in a few years' time, in the loft or perhaps in the house outside the city that he'd mentioned. There would be children, a little boy and then a younger girl, both of them with their father's golden eyes, and there would also be the wife. Christine imagined Cecile or some other Frenchwoman, with a boring bob of hair, red lips and glittering eyes. The French were known for their enigmatic sex appeal, as well as their penchant for infedelity. Her hands tightened into fists as she thought of this woman who would not love Erik as her husband, who would most likely take a lover on the side...

What could Christine do? Give up all that she and Erik could have in favor of placing him with a wife that would only ever make him content? Allow the man to lock himself into a loveless marriage that could end up hurting him in the end?

_No._

In her heart, Christine was not selfish. She wanted Erik to be happy, she understood his expectations much better now and she knew he could have more than he'd ever dreamed. _Love. Friendship.Passion._ Erik could have it all, and Christine felt that she alone could give him everything a man could want.

It was a naive belief; Christine rarely had such a simplistic view of things, but in this, she was sure, and she would be damned if she let any other women come between Erik and his realization that she would suit him best.

Christine smiled softly to herself, imagining the fun she'd soon have in seducing him.

* * *

Erik awoke late from a troubled sleep to the scent of some wonderful feast going on downstairs. His stomach roared to life, still demanding food for fear of reverting back to the unhealthy eating schedule he'd kept while king. He shook his head, banishing the memory of skipped meals and twentytwo-hour workdays; he'd nearly worked himself into an early grave, he'd not deny himself so deeply ever again. 

He moved to sit up, letting the thick blanket fall to his hips as he did so, and stretched his ams forward, groaning slightly while yawning. A full night's sleep was a luxury he prized above all others.

Even now, weeks after he and Kumar had reached their private agreement, Erik was still in the process of recovering his body and mind. Now that he had time to himself, he savored his every meal and sank into long hours of sleep. His body was early-morning tight, reminding him of the one need that he had not yet attended to. If only there was a woman he could sink into and rid himself of months of pent-up frustration!

Erik shook his head and took a deep breath, then ran a hand over his face.

He'd had lovers over the years, though in Shalimar the women had often been courtesans. In a way, Erik had preferred to keep a woman for a night or two before moving on- it had kept him from becoming too deeply involved. In those few nights he was able to learn more than most men cared to know, and each woman he'd encountered both in Shalimar and France had been happy to expand on his knowledge.

Things had to change; Erik wanted the family and life he'd been denied, not another woman to dally with for a few days at a time.

He wanted children, a wife. First, he needed a woman. His main problem now was that the only woman within easy reach was Christine, and though his body tightened painfully, eager for the chance to take her, Erik clamped down firmly on the hinting thought.

_I'd destroy myself before using her for my own ends- she is...she has always been precious to me. I'd rather die before taking my relief in her body!_

He sighed and headed into his bathroom, intent on a chilly shower before breakfast.

* * *

Once Erik had made it downstairs, freshly clothed, shaven and wearing a mask of matte charcoal gray and another pair of his leather gloves, he felt more like his usual self again: calm, in control, alert. However, just beneath this finely honed veneer, his body raged to satisfy its appetite for female flesh, but he had no means of attending to that need just yet. It was no matter- he had spent five years very nearly celibate, slaking his lust for only two nights out of each full year. 

Sex could wait, but breakfast and Christine could not.

He came to the kitchen doorway and paused once he found Christine at the stove, carefully tending to a skillet of eggs intended for omelette. His stomach growled again once the heady aroma reached him.

_Peppers, onions, mushroom, egg, fruit, and meat...when have I ever eaten so well?_

That Christine had awoken before him and set about to prepare this feast made the occasion all the more special. Erik was about to announce his presence when a timer went off with a quick _ping_ and Christine turned to the oven. She bent low to retrieve the tray within, giving Erik an unobstructed view of the silhouette to her pert bottom, draped as it was by her gypsy skirt.

Erik couldn't resist watching her, appreciating her size and shape in addition to her obvious skill in his kitchen. He forced down the clenching of his body, and took a deep breath.

_She doesn't dserve to be ogled- she is my friend and guest, she deserves only my respect and friendship...if only I could stop myself from looking!_

Erik finally pulled his eyes away from her as she lifted the tray and set it aside on a counter to cool.

Christine turned around and smiled to herself as she caught Erik's gaze, far more intense than it should have been so early in the day. She motioned for him to come forward, further into the kitchen. "Breakfast, Erik? I hope you don't mind, but I just couldn't help myself."

Erik shook his head. "No, no, Christine you're quite welcome to whatever you want while you're here. I should apologize. I am your host, I should have been up first, it should have been me that made breakfast for you."

Christine began to serve him a plate of egg, suasage, and fruit. She smiled and set the plate before him at the kitchen island, where Erik took a seat on one of the barstools there. He took the fork she offered and began to eat.

The girl sat down with her own plate across from him, and took a delicate bite. "No need to apologize, Erik. If you want, you can make it up to me in a different way." Her voice had a teasing quality that he liked.

Erik glanced up. Christine was mere feet away from him, early morning beautiful as the swiftly rising sun. Her dark hair fell about her shoulders in contrast to the snow-white of her blouse. She was so dear to him. "Anything you'd like, Christine. This is our time. Just say the word."

She smiled. "I'd just like to see Paris, Erik. Your favorite places in the city, not the tourist traps. I know we'll spend hours in line just to see the Lourve, and I love art but I'd rather see the Paris that the guidebooks don't tell you about."

Christine imagined that Erik had raised his eyebrows behind the mask, though obviously she couldn't see for herself.

"You'd prefer to see the city through a local's eyes?"

"Of course, Erik. This is your city and I want to get a feel for it, tap into the city's pulse. You haven't been home in so long, I want to be with you as you get reacquainted. That is, if you'll let me." She coaxed him gently.

Erik tilted his lips and reached to put his hand over hers. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

Foolish words. 

Erik had quickly come to regret his promise later in the day, as he seethed while every man that passed them on the street claimed Christine with their eyes. He was a man like any other, and so he knew the thoughts running through their filthy minds, the scenes that played out in their lusty imaginings. They were picturing her naked, stripping the clothes from her body, picturing the things her full mouth could do, lifting her skirt and spreading her legs to take their pleasure.

Erik had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping at the girl, who was obviously enjoying the attention.

_Has she no shame? Stop encouraging them! None of them could ever hope to approach you!_

Erik could feel his blood boil with jealousy when he noticed that, rather than blush or become insulted at the frank interest of the men, Christine was returning their smiles! He'd even seen her return the wave of one young man!

How dare she?!

Erik knew he was being ridiculous, that a smile meant next to nothing, but what did that have to do with the knot of anger in his stomach or his clenching fists, ready to attack the next man that came near? He had a mind to drag Christine back to his loft and keep her there for his eyes alone. No other man would dare to look upon what he'd claimed as his!

It did not help that Christine appeared so heart-breakingly beautiful; she was dressed as the picture of innocense in her flowing white skirt and shimmering white blouse, an angel gliding down the chic Paris avenue, but her lips curving into a seductive smile for all those that passed revealed her to be well aware of her own allure.

What a little minx his friend had become!

Erik felt outraged, ready to both wring her neck and sweep her off to his bed where he knew he could drive out any thoughts of another man. It would be his pleasure to do so, as well as hers- in the privacy of his bedroom he could claim her, make her forget everything, make her his...

He shook his head as she reached to him and laced her fingers with his. The supple black leather of his glove against her pale skin was a stark contrast, or at least Erik thought so. It illustrated for him how different they truly were. He paused for a moment to meet her eyes. The smile she gave him was soft and as warm as ever, and banished the anger from his mind. For a moment, Erik forgot his jealousy- what did it matter if other men looked upon her with lust in their eyes? Christine walked with him, and no one else.

She smiled for him, she touched him, she was in Paris with him.

They continued walking down the street, their hand joined. To anyone that passed, no doubt they would be assumed a couple, perhaps even married. A strange pain spread through his chest, but Erik was damned if he knew its true cause.

The man took a deep breath. _So she smiles at men, for she is beautiful. A girl, a woman such as her would be accustomed to being looked at as a thing of beauty. Did you think that you were the first man to look upon her in such a way?_

That thought sparked jealousy once again, and Erik had the feeling that he would be plagued with this conflict for as long as he and Christine were in close quarters and he was without a woman to distract him. Erik was no fool, he knew that he could not bring a women over for a night or two while Christine stayed with him; likewise he could not abandon her for a few days while he went off to satisfy himself.

Better miserable than rude.

The man felt tied up in knots and he knew of no way to make things better for himself.

_Think nothing of it; you said this very morning that this time was for you and Christine to share- focus on your friend and enjoy her while you can. It is unlikely that you will see her again once she returns to America and you find a woman to marry._

Erik squeezed Christine's hand in reassurance and smirked playfully at her as they moved further into the heart of the city.

_Yes, I will enjoy her while I can, while we are still free to do so._

The thought only fueled his new sense of dread.

* * *

Christine settled comfortably onto her side, resting lightly on the blanket that Erik had spread out over the grass. Together they had prepared a picnic lunch in his loft and then taken it down to a nearby park. She looked at him from under her lashes, noticing already the change in Erik's behavior toward her. 

He'd been quiet in the morning as they'd walked from one place to another, seemingly upset with her, but after she'd coaxed him into talking they had fallen back into their usual banter. The five years of separation might never have happened; they were friends again, thick as thieves, but better than that, Christine had sensed the subtle change in their relationship. Erik had started to touch her more often now, a guiding hand on the small of her back, a gentle tug of her hair, a light stroke upon her shoulder. Christine delighted in his attention, but she determined to remain coy. Nothing would be gained by throwing herself at him, she knew.

All that would accomplish would be Erik's loss of respect, and that was a thing that Christine could not afford.

She reached for another strawberry and bit into the fruit, relishing its taste upon her tongue. Christine allowed her eyes to slip closed for just a moment.

Erik was watching her intently again, sitting on the corner of the blanket, acting as a sentry over her. Erik appeared entirely focused on her face, his gaze made her feel that he had moved past staring at her and had gone on to look into her very mind. Christine looked away for a moment, breaking the unnerving spell of his eyes.

Christine was not afraid of him- how could she fear the man she loved?- but there were times when his intensity could intimidate her. She wanted Erik, but already subtle worries were creeping into her thoughts, insecurities over whether she could please him, and the dreaded thought that Erik could easily reject her if he caught on to her attempt at seduction. Stubbornly, Christine pushed the thoughts away and put her focus back onto the man before her.

She smiled at him, content as a cat.

Erik clenched his hands slightly. He wanted to reach out to her, run his hand over the dip of her waist to the rounded curve of her hip. The girl had been torturing him the entire day, being so clever and bright, funny and kind. She was all a man could have ever wanted! Not to mention that her allure for him had grown tenfold; it might have been because they would be sharing his roof for a time, or perhaps it had been seeing the attention she drew from other men, but Christine had become, in Erik's mind at least, his to protect.

Nevermind that she was a grown woman that had a life of her own, she was _his_ now, and Erik determined to watch over her while they remained together.

His mind recognized his body's need to claim her; his heart could never allow it. She was Gabriel's daughter, for God's sake! How could Erik betray such a trust? Lure the girl to Paris, use her to his satisfaction and then send her off back to America while he continued the search for a wife?

No.

Erik couldn't think of a worse way to treat a woman.

He had done enough in his life that he wasn't proud of, but hurting Christine would never be one of them.

Erik took a sip of his wine and looked away from her, forcing her beauty from his mind.

* * *

It had been an eventful day, and Christine was tired, more than ready for bed. 

Erik had taken her all about the city, to his favorite cafe and the lesser known art galleries to select gardens and to see the arches and statues built by generations past. He had been informed on every subject, acting as the perfect tour guide.

_Today has been wonderful in more ways than one_, Christine thought as she checked her travel bag for a pair of pajamas. _Erik noticed me. I've seen that look in mens' eyes before, I never thought I'd see it in his, but it was there!_

Was it wrong to feel triumphant in arousing desire in a man? Christine didn't think so. What she had failed to do as a teenager, she had done as a young woman. It had taken the spark of interest in Erik's eyes to make her feel like a true woman, strong, confident and bold. They had over ten years' worth of friendship to build on, and in the past few days it felt to her that their five year separation had never occured.

_Love and friendship can grow together, one becomes the other. Passion can be born of these two. Erik, I could make you so happy if only you would let me..._

Christine frowned once she saw that, in her haste to leave with Erik, she hadn't packed nearly enough clothes. If they were to stay for more than a few days, Christine would have to do some laundry. Her frowned deepened. She had brought only one pair of pajamas with her: an oversized pink t-shirt with matching sleep pants, decorated with silly white butterflies all over.

"I can't believe I brought these," she muttered to herself. "Where was my head while I was packing?"

Groaning, Christine went ahead and changed her clothes, sure she would look ridiculous- like a woman who refused to grow up. She had only kept the damn pajamas because they were so comfortable, and there had never been a man in her life worthy of impressing with frilly, sexy sleepwear.

_That has to change_, she thought.

Christine wondered if she was corrupting herself in her subtle pursuit of Erik. She'd never resorted to using her feminine wiles to get what she wanted before, but now she was planning different ways to entice the man: from flirting in the guise of innocense to slight orchestration, Christine was determined to at least open Erik's mind to the possibility that she could be for him.

He was attracted to her, that much had been obvious, and he'd acted possessive throughout the day. Touching her, leaning in close when he spoke, and the glare he had for any man that so much as looked her way spoke of a man unwilling to share his woman.

_Erik's woman..._

Christine thought the title could fit her very well.


	12. Intent

It was a casual evening spent together in the living room, interrupted occasionally by the chirping ring of Erik's cell phone or an urgent e-mail alert from his laptop. He had explained to Christine the reasons why he'd had to rush her to Paris, for the sake of the business interests he'd established there. When he abdicated, Erik had made sure that he and the family he planned to build would be well protected. The work was difficult, and he had run into many problems, but shying away from challenge was not in his blood- he would forge his way forward as he had always done.

He frowned at the screen of his sleek new computer as it glowed to him the latest problems facing the small business he'd invested in. The numbers glared at him, declining with each month on the calendar grid. He knew that he could turn the business around, he had done so several times already, but he was lacking in ideas and inspiration. He raised his head to look at Christine. She looked so beautiful sitting there, across the room. She was wonderful; petty jealousies aside, Erik was happy to share his home with her. She has teased him when he had descended to her after changing out of his day clothes, insisting that he had no style. Brave words, considering her own garish pajamas, bright pink and patterned with butterflies.

Christine had laughed, and Erik had laughed with her. He didn't mind her teasing his nightclothes; they were long pants and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. Black. Silk. Perfect to prevent her from seeing any more of him than she had before. Indeed, Christine had never seen more of Erik's body than the few exposed inches at his throat. He had never so much as shown her his hands, and if Erik could help it, things would stay that way.

Nevermind his fantasies of her, Christine would remain safely out of his reach for both their sakes. He didn't want to scare her and he could not bear her disgust. They were close friends, but Erik could not let down his guard, not even for her.

_Ping-ping, ping-ping!_

Thankfully, his phone interrupted his somber thoughts. Erik sighed and glanced over to Christine. She looked up from the book she'd picked up from his coffee table,_ Paris From the Air_, and smiled at him. "Go ahead and answer it, Erik. The business world may fall apart without you."

He chuckled at her and moved to the kitchen to retrieve his phone, where he'd left it to charge. Christine returned her eyes to the pictures in the book, but her ears were with him as he spoke. His French was rapid, but his tone had shifted from the curtness he'd had with his bussiness calls earlier in the evening to something entirely different. Christine frowned. Erik's voice had deepened and slowed down as the conversation continued, and whoever he spoke with had even managed to pry a laugh from him.

"Ah, oui, oui...adieu, Elita."

Christine glanced up as Erik snapped his phone shut and turned to her with a smirk and a new, almost smug air about him. "That was Elita."

She frowned. "Who is she?"

Erik retook his seat across from her, still with the same smirk playing on his lips. "She...mmm, I saw her on my last trip to Paris."

Christine nodded, ignoring the shaft of anger spearing through her chest. She was thankful for her training as a model; like an actress, she had become adept at hiding her true feelings and replacing them with whatever front suited the occasion. "She was your lover."

Erik glanced up, surprised to hear the statement put so baldly from her. He cleared his throat. "Ah, for a time, yes. She lives near here, perhaps ten blocks to the south."

_I don't care where she lives, Erik! Tell me how you feel about her!_

"How did she know you were back in Paris, Erik? It's only been a day or two."

Erik shrugged. "She mentioned that she caught sight of me while we were out earlier today."

Christine nodded. "Does she know about me?"

"No, I didn't mention you. She wants to see me sometime this week, perhaps during the weekend. I'll explain about you when I see her." Erik couldn't wipe the small smile from his face; it was rare that a woman expressed any interest in him, he couldn't help but marvel that for once he was the one being pursued.

Where there had been a spark of jealousy for Cecile, a wildfire had erupted for Elita. Christine swallowed the lump forming in her throat and tried to act natural. "What does she look like?"

Erik blinked at the question. "Elita is...well, she has a unique appearance." Christine hated the way he spoke of this woman, the dreamy quality of his tone was gutting her from the inside out. "Her coloring is very intense. You shall see for yourself, I intend to bring her here rather than go out."

Christine felt ready to jump across the living room and strangle the man.

_Erik, why see Elita when I'm right here in front of you? I would give you everything if you only asked it of me!_

Erik called upon the image in his mind of Elita, and pictured her in the future he'd mapped for himself. She would be a good wife, he knew. A wonderful mother, as well. She was kind, intelligent, and they were compatible in bed. More than compatible, Elita had proven herself to be a gifted lover. Perhaps his favorite.

Still, with so many wonderful qualities, there was something missing...

The man couldn't put his finger on what it was, but there was a strange twisting in his chest that grew as he continued to think of Elita as a possible wife. He knew himself- if Elita wasn't meant to be his wife, they could still catch up and enjoy a dinner together. There was no harm in that, surely?

He shook his head and glanced up to Christine. "I suggested dinner here for Saturday night, she's agreed."

Erik left the room at the ringing of his cell phone, and Christine could only swallow down her pain.

* * *

Erik awoke in the morning to find a note left for him on the hallway end table just outside of his bedroom door. Still pleasantly groggy from sleep, he'd yawned and read it through a few times before the message actually sank into his understanding. 

Christine had gone off on her own!

**Erik,**

**I've just stepped out to have a look at some of the fashion boutiques we passed yesterday on our walk to that gallery on Lyon boulevard. I didn't want to wake you and I was sure that you'd be bored with watching me shop. No worries, I'll be back before noon and I promise to bring you back something special!**

**Love, Christine.**

Erik blinked and set the note aside. She was perfectly within her rights to see the shops if it pleased her, but he worried that she might lose her way- she did not speak the language; despite that he had taught her a few simple phrases, Christine was still a tourist alone in a foreign country.

He shrugged, reminding himself that it was Christine and not some empty-headed bird that was out shopping. She would not become lost, but Erik scowled at the thought that she might very well take a coffee with any man bold enough to invite her. He remembered his jealousy from the day before, all the men with their hungry eyes on Christine...

His fist clenched and he cracked his knuckles, irritated by the scene forming in his mind of Christine sitting across some smarmy young man over mocha and pastry. He knew that he desired Christine for himself and that his feelings were mixed with a protective instinct over her, but he knew that he had to stop thinking of her in such a way. He could not have her- to take Christine could ruin their friendship, a bond that Erik had for so long prized above all others. Besides that, Christine deserved a man that she could recognize out of a mask. Erik held no delusions. Despite his good nature and wealth, he had still much left to be desired. Christine deserved a man left near intact, one that she could kiss in the light of day.

But just the thought of her with another set his teeth on edge!

What could he do? Take her and then watch her go off with another?

_Never!_

He slammed his gloved palm on the kitchen counter, angry with himself. Erik sighed, and prepared a cup of coffee for himself, resigned to wait for Christine to come back.

* * *

One hour swiftly shifted into two, then three and four. 

Erik paced the empty living room, his eyes drawn up to the mantle clock above the fireplace and he then resumed his pacing. Christine's note had said she'd return before noon, and now there were bare minutes to spare. He couldn't help himself; he'd worried for her, and while she was gone he'd tried to busy himself with work and reading, but nothing was able to occupy his mind for long.

Indeed, he'd hustled Christine to Paris at a moment's notice and now he was irritated that she wasn't available for him. Erik sighed and touched his hair, marveling at his own stupidity. The problems facing his companies would have to wait- he shouldn't have brought Christine with him when he had been needed to personally attend upcoming meetings with stockholders and to reassure his board of directors.

What had he been thinking, to bring a guest to Paris with him when he would be so tied up in the next few days?

_Ah, I brought her here because I wanted someone to talk to that wasn't on my payroll_, Erik thought. He didn't like to think that he was using her as a simple distraction, for he did genuinely enjoy everything about her, but there were naggng doubts that plagued him.

_I could have left her in New York and then come back for her after all this business was handled in Paris and after I'd abdicated to Kumar...I know I could have left only to reclaim her once my affairs were settled, but to leave her so soon after we'd found each other again after so long...?_

Erik shook off his thoughts. It was pointless to wonder why he'd whisked Christine off to Paris with him; it didn't matter why, it only mattered that she was here now.

_But she's not here!_ Erik looked at the mantle clock and then down to his own wristwatch. It was noon, and where was she?

He pushed away more thoughts of her succumbing to French flirtation.

His eyes swung toward the door as it slowly opened, and Erik made a mad dash to save face. He quickly took a seat on the sofa and grabbed a random book, hoping to disguise that he'd been waiting, pacing for her return.

Christine stepped into the apartment, her eyes immediately finding Erik in the space. She raised an eyebrow to see that he was holding the novel _Dracula,_ but it was upside down!

Erik set the book aside and rose to meet her. "Hello, Christine. Any luck shopping?"

It was a pointless question; Christine's hands were full of bags. She blushed suddenly and side-stepped him when he moved to help her carry them upstairs. "Oh, yes, I picked up a few things. No, no, I can carry them. Why don't you just have a seat and I'll set out a lunch?"

Erik frowned as he watched her climb the stairs and disappear behind her bedroom door.

* * *

Christine made quick work of sorting out her new outfits, putting them together in various combinations.

As she worked, Christine thought about Erik and the way he'd behaved after the call from his former lover. He desired this woman, Elita. They had been lovers, and Erik was intent on picking up where they left off. More than that, he saw Elita as a potential mate- the wife that would share his home and give him children, but who would not love him. Exactly the way Erik wanted it- a companion to share his bed, but never a true wife. Christine could feel the blade twisting in her stomach at the realization that she could lose him so soon after he'd come back to her.

_I can't let him see that woman for dinner, I can't let him throw the rest of his life away on a loveless marriage!_

There was little she could do to prevent Erik from seeing whoever he chose, but Christine let her imagination chase all possibilities. She could always barge into his room and beg him to take her, or sedate him so that he would sleep through his dinner date. He was downstairs, waiting for her now.

Christine touched her hair and wondered what it would take to have Erik to herself.

Looking through the contents of a glossy black shopping bag, Christine smiled as an idea formed.

* * *

There occasionally came a time in a man's life when he would throw back his head and call out to heaven, wondering what he'd done to deserve the torure of woman. 

Erik lay back, staring up at the ceiling to his bedroom. His mask rested on the end table to his right, within immediate reach should he need it in the night. He swallowed and clenched his fists, willing his pulse to slow down. His mind was fueling fantasies from a single glimpse of Chrstine. He knew it was wrong, but he could not help himself, and so, the scenarios played through his min's eye with no end.

Damn the girl.

Christine was teasing him, torturing without a thought. Couldn't she see what she was doing to him?!

Erik called up the original sight that had him so enflamed. It had began innocently enough. Erik had only been crossing the upstairs landing so that he could retrieve his laptop computer from the living room. He'd been headed for the stairs, just past Christine's room, when the girl stepped out and walked right into him.

They had been tangled for a moment, both of them startled, their bodies separated only by the thinnest layers of clothing. The contact had only lasted a moment or two, but Erik could still remember the feel of her, so soft and warm under his hands and the way she fit so snugly against his body, and likewise he recalled her smaller, delicate hands holding onto him for support as she'd tried to regain her balance.

They had laughed at their shared clumsiness, Erik had apologized and set his hands on Christine's shoulders to steady her, when he'd glanced down to the nightset that she had chosen for the evening. Beneath the folds of a matching satin robe, the truth of Christine's body was bared to him for the first time. Azure lace had cupped her breasts like a divine offering. Another, smaller scrap of lace had only just covered her sex from his eyes. Instantly, his mind had gone blank to anything else but the sight of her, and his hands had been unwilling to release her shoulders so that she could adjust her robe and retie the sash that had come loose in their slight scuffle.

Christine had blushed deeply, which had the perverse effect of arousing Erik even further. She had then retreated back into her room, muttering slight apologies.

He had been openly staring at her, unable to tear his eyes away; Christine was no one's fool, she had to have known the effect she'd had on him. It wasn't as if Erik could have hidden the truth of his desire for long. That truth was between them now; things had changed with the proof of his reaction to her. What would happen now? He hoped that she wouldn't leave- Erik would never hurt her, but he realized that Christine's view of him had changed. He was no longer just the friend she remembered from Shalimar- after this incident, she will see him as a man like any other.

Erik's fists clenched harder. What had she been thinking, to wear something like that? Had he not been a stronger man, he might have taken her right then and there like some sex-starved animal! Any other man would have done exactly that, which angered him more than anything, the thought that another man- or men!- had seen his Christine in such indecent attire.

His Christine?

_Yes, damn it, she is mine!_

Erik rolled onto his side, wondering why he had allowed himself to become attached in such a way. Christine was a grown woman, perfectly able to made her own decisions...but he didn't care. At the root of it all, perhaps Erik was just as possessive and jealous as the next man. He only knew that it was the thought of other men seeing Christine in such a way that angered him, not seeing Christine herself. He couldn't say that he was disappointed for having seen her that night dressed, or undressed, in such a way. He wouldn't mind seeing her again and again, so as long as their time together lasted.

_This cannot last, stop chasing fantasis of Christine! She is here to help you find a wife, remember? You would disrespect your future wife by lusting after your friend?_

Erik felt ridiculous- how could he disrespect a woman he'd never even met by desiring Christine? He was only human, of course he would be imagining her in his bed after seeing her veiled in such alluring lingerie. He took a deep breath and tried to banish her from his mind.

No luck.

* * *

"Christine, I think you look lovelier every day. The French invented _haute couture_, did you know that?" 

Christine smiled at Erik's compliment and couldn't stop the slight blush that colored her cheeks. Of course she knew that Paris was a hub of high fashion- and being Christine Daae, the new face of _Tiffany & Co_., as well as _LV _and _La Perla_, the saleswomen had spared no effort in assisting her select the pieces that would best compliment her figure and coloring.

They had considered it an honor to have her shop their boutiques, and so Christine had been given several new outfits- the saleswomen had claimed that she would deign to wear local labels was payment enough, despite her insisting to pay.

Christine slid her hand into his, relishing the warm, buttery leather that surrounded her as Erik's hand closed over her fingers. He was dressed in his usual attire of finely tailored dark suit, but she noticed that he seemed to have taken even greater care with his appearance today. "Erik, you'll spoil me by talking like that. You look dashing yourself today, have you planned something special?"

Erik answered her with a slight smile of his own. "Perhaps, but I'll not ruin any surprises. For now, I'd be happy to walk the city with you again for a time."

Erik led her towards the door and then into the elevator. As the chamber descended, Christine turned to him. "I love it here, Erik. Paris is beautiful but I don't think I could enjoy it half as much if I wasn't with you." There was no attempt at seduction here, Christine spoke the truth.

"Christine, I promise you, the pleasure is all mine. What man wouldn't enjoy walking the city with a beautiful young woman on his arm?" Erik then held his arm out to her and happily, Christine took it.

* * *

"You know, Christine, after your family left Shalimar, I found something that you'd left behind." Erik told her as they made their way back to his loft. It had been another wonderful day, unspoiled by jealousy. Their friendship had somehow become deeper than before; Erik was not restrained in the ways that he had been when Christine was just a girl. Paris and time had provided them the freedom to express themselves more intimately. Erik touched her often, the small of her back, her shoulders and hands, and Christine showed no hesitance in embracing him, right there on the street. 

"Really? And what's that, Erik?"

He released her hand and reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Carefully, he pulled out a chain of pink crystals.

"My necklace!"

Erik nodded. "Yes, I found it by our fountain, hanging from a low tree branch. You left it there for me, didn't you?"

Christine stepped forward and took the delicate strand from him. She held it out so that the pink crystal beads caught the sunlight. She hadn't laid eyes on the necklace in years, but it semed to her that Erik had kept it in fine condition. "Yes. I'd hoped that you would find it, I thought you might look at it and remember that you had a friend in me."

In a movement he could not stop, Erik reached to her and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "A friend and more, Christine." Realizing what he'd said, Erik felt his face heat behind the mask and quickly moved on to say, "But this necklace is too immature for you now. You're still the girl I remember, but you are not a child. You're a woman, and as such you deserve a gift meant for a woman."

Erik beckoned her to follow him further down the street, intent on bringing her into the shop a few storefronts down.

Christine felt her heart flutter, a mix of sudden dread and excitement. "Erik, what are you trying-?"

It had been his intention to buy her a necklace or a bracelet, but all thoughts of jewelry fled from his mind as his eyes took in the sight of Christine on a _Tiffany & Co._ storefront poster.


	13. Demands

**Author's Note: All right, the free ride of fluff and friendship is over.** **Things are going to heat up into one giant storm of angst and sex, it's what I do best! Please read, review, and most of all, enjoy. ;-)**

* * *

Erik turned to her, and Christine took a step back as terror tore through her body. There was a look in Erik's eyes that she had never seen before, a crazed mix of anger and passion. The golden stars were shining in the waning afternoon sun, blazing at her from behind his mask. He took one more glance at the large poster in the Tiffany store window, and literally growled before reaching forward and clasping his hand over her arm. 

His grip was like a vice, and Erik wasted no time in forcing Christine along with him, headed back towards his apartment. She tried to twist out from his grasp, but Christine was no match for his strength. Knowing that it would only cause a scene, she did not cry out or demand that he release her, but Christine's own fury was mounting with each step.

They entered the apartment building and Erik stabbed impatiently at the elevator button. When the chamber touched down and the doors slid open, Erik all but dragged her inside with him. They stood, tense for several moments in silence at the chamber rose. Christine felt her blood boil, and she turned to him. "Let go of my arm, Erik." Her words were measured and her voice was low, but the warning within them was clear.

He did not look at her, but she felt the tension leave his fingers, and he finally released her, leaving red marks in his wake. The doors slid open again and Erik led her into his apartment. Christine was on him in an instant. "What the hell is the matter with you?! How dare you manhandle me like that, dragging me up and down the street- who do you think you are?"

Erik returned her glare, though his own anger was far more controlled. "How long have you been doing this, Christine?"

"Modeling? A few years- Belinda brought me to a photoshoot and the photographer liked me. He said I was-"

"He said what? 'Take off your clothes and allow me to share you with all the world'? For money?" His demanded.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Erik."

His hands began making erratic gestures towards her. "They're taking advantage of you. You've made yourself vulnerable to them- your exploited beauty is such easy prey. Men will see you and think you are openly available to anyone!"

Her anger did not lessen in the least. "In case you haven't noticed, I _am _available! How can you be angered by what I've chosen to do with my life, Erik? We haven't spoken in five years and all of a sudden you give a damn about me? No, no, I forgot- you couldn't care less, you only want me here to help you find a wife. A woman that will share your bed but never your heart-"

"Stop!"

"Why? That's exactly what you said you wanted. Or maybe you don't know what you want. Think what you want about my profession, but at least this was my choice, something I wanted to do-"

Erik advanced on her, his hands barely restrained from gripping her shoulders and shaking the life out of her. His body was restless; he paced before her, a caged tiger. He could feel madness descend upon him. "This? This is what you want? For men to see you nearly naked, plastered on store windows and billboards. You've made yourself a target for all kinds of lecherous men, you have no idea of the danger...God, I can't stand it!"

Christine scoffed, "Oh, yes, I'm sure you're just dying with jealousy."

"Yes, I am!"

The room fell silent, Erik's words echoing throughout the loft.

Christine looked up at him. The anger had fled his eyes, leaving behind a strange wariness in their place. She took a step forward. "You're jealous? Why?"

Erik's lips parted, but he stopped himself, and she could see his eyes became cold. He took a deep breath and straightened to his full height, ignoring her question. "You will not model any more, Christine. It is dangerous and beneath a woman of your intelligence. I want you to work for me instead."

She railed against the high-handedness of his tone. "Excuse me? Perhaps you forgot that we are not in Shalimar- you're not the king of France, Erik! You can't give me the order to leave my agency, and it is not dangerous. I like being a model, I get to travel and meet people-"

"Where did you get those earrings?"

His question caught her off her guard, and Christine raised a hand to finger her earlobe. She hadn't bought new earrings the day before, she was still wearing the gift sapphires. "I...I don't- why is that important?"

"Answer me." He commanded. "Did you buy them yourself? I doubt it- those are a lover's gift." The jealousy he'd expressed earlier dripped from his every word. She suppressed a shiver at his voice.

Christine huffed out an angry breath. "No, I didn't buy them. They were a gift."

"From who?"

"Not that it's any of your _business_, but I got them from a photographer in New York. Nicolas Fowler. He shot the pictures for that Tiffany poster."

Erik clenched his fists, fury blinding his eyes. "He...he saw you...is he the lover that pays for your apartment? Is he the only one, or are there others? You must roll over for any man that can afford to keep you! Well, you won't see him again, Christine, do you hear me? I won't allow it, you won't see anyone."

She took a step toward him, unafraid and furious. "How dare you presume to tell me who I can and can't see?! What will you do, Erik? Keep me chained like a prisoner? You have no right to keep me from seeing people-"

Erik reached for her then, firmly taking her shoulders and holding her against him. "I have every right! You are so desperate to be naked before a camera? So eager to be with a man? Fine, then. You'll be with me. Tonight, and every other night, because I will _never_ let another take you."

With that possessive declaration, Erik's mouth descended upon hers. His mouth was hard against hers, demanding entrance, forcing her to open her lips and submit to him. Her taste shot through his blood. His hands were strong on her arms, preventing her escape. Christine instinctively tried to turn away from him, but Erik moved a hand up to hold her in place.

A single, sharp thought pierced through both their minds: _This isn't right!_

Erik broke from her, releasing her from his grip. A voice he did not recognize as his own ordered her to her room to prepare herself for him. Still in a haze of jealousy and arousal, he stalked away from her.

Christine watched as he turned his back on her, and then ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

* * *

Some time later, Christine found herself doing just as Erik had ordered, preparing herself for his bed. She'd bathed, washed her hair, then filed and buffed her nails. She had made certain that her legs were smooth and that there was no other unwanted hair to be seen on her body. She'd used a light lotion to scent her skin and she was now trying to arrange her hair. 

She glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trepidaion gripping her fiercely but anger still ovecoming her fear. She was determined to appease Erik, to give him what he'd demanded from her downstairs.

And just what_ had_ happened between them downstairs?

Erik had admitted his jealousy. His statement had been clear, his arousal had been obvious. His kiss had been...

Christine felt her heart clench at the memory of the way he'd grabbed her, held her, and plundered her mouth with his own.

She had dreamed of Erik's kiss, imagining him both tender and caring in some scenes, bold and passionate in others. His kiss, the kiss that Christine had waited so long for, had been an ice-cold show of his control. He'd been angry, he had kissed her only to assert his strength over her; there had been no caring, no tenderness. No passion for her other than as just another woman under his control.

_"So eager to be with a man? You'll be with me. Tonight, and every other night, because I will _never_ let another take you."_

Was that all Erik thought of her? That she was so desperate for sex that she'd sleep with any man and Erik was somehow protecting her by electing himself as her lover? Christine sighed, a strange feeling of shame rolling over her. _Erik thinks so little of me...I'm not who he thinks I've become...I have to show him..._

His kiss had been cruel, but his words had cut through her heart.

_"You must roll over for any man that can afford to keep you."_

Anger speared through her. He thought she was a whore? He thought he could command her to his bed whenever the whim took him?

Christine threw down the brush she'd been using, barely holding back the sudden sobs that tore through her body. The afternoon crashed down on her. Erik had taken one look at the Tiffany poster and had been happy to declare that she was a whore, that she would take a slew of lovers whenever the mood struck her. Nevermind the years that they had known each other, forget all about their recovering friendship- one glance at a poster and everything else had fallen away in the face of his anger.

She'd never known Erik to be so arrogant; the damning judgement in his eyes had pressd heavily upon her, and she felt the shame of it now. The dream had ended; her idiot plans had backfired right back at her. Seduce him? Entice him? He saw her as beneath his care now. Erik had only admitted to wanting her; in his eyes she was worthy of his bed but he would want nothing more from her.

A tear that she had fought slipped down her cheek.

Christine scowled at herself in the glass._ You wanted Erik so badly- fine, now you can have him. Go ahead, you fool, go ahead and enjoy Erik while you can- he'll turn you away when he's through with you, when he's ready for his wife, but always remember that you brought this upon yourself_...

Christine took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheek. She looked over to the lingerie she'd selected, beautiful lace and satin. She'd bought the set in the hopes that when she and Erik finally came together, he would see her in them and love her. Stupid, fevered daydreams. That's all it had been.

Fine.

She would be used by the man she loved.

It was the only way she would know what it felt like to be held in hs arms.

* * *

Erik sat on the edge of his bed, wondering what madness he had spoken that afternoon, and how he could handle the disaster he had created with his own jealousy. How could he have said those things to her? He'd all but accused her of being a slut for the camera, and then ordered her to come to him tonight! 

He would plead temporary insanity, though he was sure that condition did not last as long as he'd been feeling this strange new desire for Christine. It had been several days that he had wanted her, perhaps from that first moment in New York when she'd appeared to him in her bedroom.

Today he had yelled at her, accused her, damned her.

He had kissed her.

_No._

A kiss was warm, tender. What he had done had been cold and demanding, a gesture not of affection. He had hoped to scare her, to assert his control over her. His mouth had violated hers. Erik shuddered. He had remained in his room since then, terrified of another confrontation. Another would surely end with a slap to his face, no less than what he deserved for his cruel words. He never should have touched her; she had never been his to touch.

_Why hasn't she left me yet?_

It had been hours since he'd sent her to her room, that crazed command that she "prepare" herself for his bed. He'd been listening intently and hadn't heard her leave the loft yet. Was she in her room now, packing her luggage? Erik wondered at the impossible, that she might come to him soon, offering herself to his bed...

His imagination lit up, painting all scenes of them together on the sheets. He would not take her roughly, the way he'd kissed her earlier. No, no. Erik had never been one for rough play with a woman. He wouldn't be able to live with himself, knowing that he'd hurt her. If she did come to him, Erik would apologize and then send her back to New York. He'd completely ruined their time together, and ruined Paris for her- she would never be able to think of the city again without recalling his cruel anger.

Erik rose up from the bed and stripped off his gloves, placing them on his dresser, then he lifted the mask from his face and set it down. He had only unbuttoned his shirt and began to remove it when he heard the door open. Erik froze, swallowed. He did not turn around. "Christine?"

"Yes, Erik. It's me."

He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. If she came any closer...

"Could you- there is a switch on the wall, could you dim the lights, please?"

The lights of his bedroom began to dim, lower, lower, until it was near dark The light above emitted less light than a lone tea candle. Hurriedly, Erik rebuttoned his shirt and replaced his mask. It did not matter that Christine couldn't see him in the dark, he didn't want her to touch his scars. In his haste, he forgot about replacing his gloves. He turned to face her and felt the breath catch in his throat.

Earlier, he had ordered Christine to "prepare" herself for him with all the arrogant command of a king to his favored courtesan. The girl had complied, and feminine vengeance now demanded his desire. There was just enough light so that he could see her fully. Erik's eyes and mouth began to water at the sight of her. Her scent drifted to him, lifting his mind to the dream state. "Christine..."

She wore a satin robe over her shoulders, but she hadn't bothered to tie the sash. It was the same one from the night before, deep azure blue rippled and swayed behind her in the slight breeze from the open window. Underneath, she wore French knickers in sheer orchid lace, deep violet; her breasts were held high and proud in a wispy half-bra of matching lace. A magnificent creature, she stood in his doorway, unassuming and unafraid.

Her hair fell about her face in sultry chocolate waves, her eyes nearly luminous in the dim light.

He swallowed, struggling to find the will to speak, to apologize and send her back to her bedroom. Christine moved closer, not giving him the room to back away. Her hands laid flat on the planes of his chest, heating him. Erik closed his eyes, all restraint falling away at her touch. How long had it been since he'd held a woman? Far too long. He raised his own hands to come around her waist, relishing the feel of her silk robe under his bare hands. Her skin was burning beneath his fingertips. Her shape was perfect.

They held each other for several long moments, swaying in the embrace of the other. Christine's lips found his in the night, and Erik drank from her, coaxing responses from her body that Christine never dreamed could have come from a kiss. She had been kissed before, but never had it felt so...

Her hands moved without thinking, rising to cup his face. Erik tore himself from her at the feel of her hands on his mask. "Don't, Christine-"

"I'm sorry," she breathed, desperate not to break the moment. "I didn't mean to. I wouldn't, Erik. Not without your permission."

Erik shook his head slightly, ignoring the comment she'd just made. It implied that they would begin a relationship, a true courtship of some kind. The thought gave him pause, but Erik shut out all thoughts outside of his bedroom. All that mattered was what would happen between them now.

He'd been ready to resist, but that had been before he'd seen her. Before he realized that she was truly offering herself to him.

She had to want this as he did, why else had she come to him?

Erik knew that he couldn't let her leave him now; he had to have her. To bring her the pleasure she brought him, to have her in his bed even if only for this night. It was strange, the way that she was looking at him- as if this was _right_, no matter how they'd come to be together. That what they would share was all that mattered to her, that she wanted him. Not with an animal lust or any sense of obligation or fear, but that she truly wanted him to take her...

His chest tightened as the wings of some emotion he could not name beat within him. "The bed, Christine."

The girl needed no prompting. She moved past him and reclined into a more comfortable position, arranging herself to look as beautiful as possible for him. Erik swallowed again, still tasting her on his lips, and followed her, beckoned her to allow him to take the robe so that he might see more of her. He put the robe over his desk chair and then turned to join her on the bed. Tentatively, he reached to touch her, his eyes asking permission. He laid his hand over her shoulder first, exploring the dips and turns of her arm in a slow massage. Christine sighed slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as he touched her for the first time. He stroking the slim limb, until her small hand rested within his own.

He'd never truly touched her before; the supple leather of his gloves had always provided the barrier between them. Erik's eyes were captivated by the simple sight of another human hand within his own. The sight was enthralling, but the sensation was even more remarkable. Her hand was soft and smooth, very wam to the touch. Erik brought her hand to rest on his shoulder so that he could turn her to face him fully. Her face was open to his, unafraid, aroused. Christine refused nothing to him as he explored her body.

His fingertips skimmed over her delicate collarbones, the exposed tops of her breasts. He relished her soft, hitching breaths. Her hands bunched in the folds of his shirt, gripping him tightly. She arched her face, turning her face up to his. Her lips silently begged for his kiss. Erik dipped his head to take her mouth with his own, and kissed her the way he should have that afternoon, passionately, charging her thoughts by mimicking with his tongue what his body ached to do to hers.

His hands reached lower to span her waist, smilng slightly that her sides twitched at his touch. He hadn't expected her to be ticklish. She was so slender, so very female. Erik cupped her hips, lifting her, and brought her to sit astride his lap. His hands stroked her long legs, from bent knees to parted, yeilding thighs. His hands stopped just short of the very heart of her. He hesitated, waiting for Christine to refuse him.

A refusal never came. Christine only leaned forward and kissd him, a brush of her lips against his own.

He cupped her then. Stroked. Caressed. Explored.

Christine leant forward to brush her lips over his throat, the only skin that he'd ever exposed to her eyes. He parted her further, searching for the source of her pleasure. Christine gave a high gasp of shock and wonder, Erik felt her teeth at his throat as she tried to regain some control over herself, perhaps afraid to lose herself to him. Erik refused to let her take the control from him, and continued to stroke and move his hand against her, within her. He felt determined to bring her to completion, to brand her in some way.

There was a look of wonder in her eyes, the excitement of the unknown. Erik stroked her again, harder this time, and she moaned, gasped.

Erik was aching to bury himself within her, to replace his hand with his body. Fear held him back. To take her, he would need to fully undress. Christine wouldn't understand if he did not; she was not a palace courtesan, she would question him, demand to know why he would not have her fully. The courtesans had known better than to question him, the Frenchwomen he'd known had simply appeased him and turned off the light, never bothering to question why he would refuse to show himself.

Christine was not like them. She was different. She was special. She was so precious to him.

She gave a deep, moaning cry, and came apart in his arms. She fell against him, her body trembling, her chest panting for air. Erik held her against him, one hand stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe, the other moved away from her center to curl lazily about her hips. She felt so small, suddenly, so vulnerable and delicate against him. Christine rested her head in the crook of his neck, slightly sobbing his name. It was a whispered plea that he had heard before, but he had never dreamed to hear it from her.

Time crept by, neither of them spoke.

There was little that could be said now; their friendship, everything they had ever been to each other in the past, had changed. Erik didn't know what to think of that fact- to lose Christine now, after this, would be horrible. What would the morning bring? Christine had no answer for the man, she had no experience to judge from.

Erik continued to stroke her back, and he then moved to cup her face and brush his lips against her. He kissed her lips, her cheek, the sensitive spot just below her ear, the pulse point on her throat...

Her body moved against him then, a subtle writhing motion against his own arousal, which was still awaiting its birthright, to be sheathed in the heat and softness of a woman. Erik suppressed his own moan. He wanted her, he wanted her more than anything, but...

Erik pulled back, and settled her down on the bed. He did not leave, he moved to lie just beside her, nestling together like a pair of spoons. Christine breathed deeply for several minutes before she turned to him, parting her legs slightly, offering herself to him. "Erik, if you still want me-"

He shook his head and put his hand over the dip of her waist. "No, Christine, no. Sleep now. This is what's best."

Christine had no choice but to obey him as sleep overcame her. If this had been a dream, then the only thing she feared was to awaken in the morning.


	14. Coming Back

Christine stared at the scattered items on Erik's nightstand before her. His wristwatch, a silver Omega. An empty drinking glass. A faded photograph of his mother. His bedroom had three windows in the far wall, all facing the busy avenue below. They were high enough that Christine could see a fair distance into the city. The sounds of Paris in the morning mirrored those of her New York; she could hear dogs barking, cars honking, and the jarring noise of a siren.

She had awoken well over an hour ago, but she couldn't find the courage to wake the man that still slept beside her. Christine blinked, and glanced down to the hand that was curled over the dip of her waist. Heat flooded her face and chest at the memories of the night before. The way Erik had held her, kissed her. Touched her.

His room had been dark last night; so dark that Christine had barely been able to make out his shape at all. Sight had not mattered when so much of the night had been focused on her sensation alone. She had been touched there only twice in her life: once by her doctor during an uncomfortable routine exam; the second time had been by a boy she'd once dated in high school, an even more uncomfortable fumbling in the backseat of his Jeep.

That part of her had gone on ignored and neglected for years; as Christine had never met a man that appealed to her, sex had always remained a distant thing- an impossible thing meant for those who could settle for less. Even against the odds, Christine's heart had never freed itself from Erik's hold. She had waited so long for him.

Still reeling from the release, Christine knew exactly what Erik had done to her, how could she not? What had happened had been her first genuine exposure to the raw animal that was passion. In her first climax, she'd sobbed Erik's name. Entering his bedroom in lingerie, offering herself to his command had been a long-held fantasy that she'd abandoned to dreams. That the fantasy had been fulfilled gave her pause; when would Erik take her fully? She felt no fear for the act, only an eagerness she'd never known before.

She had never felt the way Erik had made her feel; never had she felt as drained, sore, or hungry for more as she did now.

Erik sighed in his sleep and his hand tightened on her, curling her closer to his body. Even in his sleep he wanted her. Christine turned just slightly so that she could see the exposed flesh that rested over her belly. Never, not in all their years together in Shalimar, had she seen his naked hands. Christine shifted again, her movements as quiet and controlled as she could manage, so that she could sit up and better examine him in the daylight. The window was still open from the night before, with warm, buttery sunlight streaming into the room along with a soft breeze. As Christine had moved to sit upright, Erik's hand slid down her body and now rested in her lap. Christine moistened her lips, remembering his hand being there the night before, and what he had made her feel.

_Yes, hungry for more._

Carefully, she lifted his hand, cradled it with her own. It was a patchwork of deep, deep burn scars. The flesh was puckered and bunched in some areas, taut and shiny in others; a combination of Erik's own pale coloring and the deep rose of scar tissue, along with several white traceries. There was not an inch of intact flesh; from his palms to his fingertips to his wrists. Christine pulled back the sleeve on his shirt to see if the scarring had stopped there. It did not. The scars continued further up his arm, past the reach of her eyes.

Christine took a breath, understanding, finally, why he refused to be seen. She'd had her suspicions before now, of course, but it was a strange thing to behold the proof of those suspicions, and see Erik as he truly was.

She could only imagine his face.

Christine softly stroked the back of his hand, wishing that her touch could somehow make him whole again. She looked over to him, and this time found his golden eyes staring back at her.

Wordlessly, Erik pulled his hand from hers and slowly rose to sit up on the edge of the bed, with his back turned to her. She watched as he reached into the drawer of the nightstand on his side, and pulled on the pair of gloves he had stored there.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Erik paused and shook his head, still turned away from her. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Christine. It was a long time ago." He fell silent then, thinking. Christine watched as he took a breath and gathered his own courage to bring up what had happened between them. "I should be the one to apologize to you. Last night, yesterday...it was a mistake. I never should have said those things to you, never grabbed you or demanded that you- this was never meant to get so out of hand-"

"What are you saying?"

Erik sighed, and finally turned to face her. His eyes were haunted and he felt his heart lurch at the sight of her, a beautiful woman in his bed. His hands ached to be on her again, but he didn't trust himself to touch her. "I'm saying that I was wrong. I was horrible to you, when you deserved none of it. I'm sorry, Christine. I acted like an animal- no, worse. A madman! I had no right to judge what you've chosen to do with your life, no right to make the demands of you that I did. I've ruined our time together, and I'll understand if you want to leave-"

Christine shook her head. "No, Erik. I don't want to leave."

He frowned slightly, his eyes confused. "After what I said to you yesterday, you must hate me."

Christine shrugged in that carefree way she'd developed over the years, a gesture Erik remembered well. She knew that Erik was going to back out now; that in any minute, he would send her to her own bedroom, declaring it "inappropriate" for her to be in his, or some other nonsense.

No. She could not let him end this by casting her aside.

Erik had shown a vulnerable truth of himself to her yesterday: that he had grown attracted to her, that he was jealous and desired her for himself. Desire, coupled with his affection...

Christine refused to give up now- she loved him to the point where her heart was near bursting with it, she would die if he should turn her away now.

She wanted to be Erik's lover, and more importantly, his love- however, pride demanded that she address the things he had accused her of the night before. She leaned in close to him, and put her hand over his shoulder. Erik tried not to show any reaction, and willed his eyes not to leave her face- very difficult, when she was bathed in the sun, her every beautiful secret revealed to him.

Her fingers speared through his hair, stroking him in a gentle massage. Christine smiled to herself in slight triumph when his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her touch. "I don't hate you, Erik. I never could. As for what you said to me...you said you were jealous and that temper of yours is legendary, so I understand that you overreacted." She teased him a bit before her expression became serious, and her hand tightened painfully on his shoulder. "But just know this: if you ever again imply that I would give myself to a man for money, _I_ might overreact by throwing your computer, your pictures, your books- and everything else you hold dear- off a bridge and into the Seine river."

Erik raised his brows at her bold statement, too stunned to laugh. Her bright eyes snapped at him, daring him to challenge her statement. He was wise not to do so.

Christine's lips quirked slightly. "Will you hand me my robe, please? You set it on that chair last night."

Erik felt his heart constrict at the mention of what had went on between them. Her lack of embarrassment seemed only to enhance his own; she was comfortable to be so exposed. Was she simply accustomed to be in a man's bed, or was it that she felt safe with him? Erik didn't know how to ask her such a question, and he wasn't sure if he wished to know her answer.

Quickly, he stepped over to his desk to retrieve her robe, and handed it to her without meeting her eyes. Erik felt a shame he never knew was possible, so deep that he felt a leaden guilt sink into his stomach. How could he have made such demands of her? Touched her in such a way, without offering anything to her for the privilege?

He had to make things right between them.

* * *

Christine arranged her hair in the mirror and thought again of what had happened the night before. No question that she wished to continue along this path; Erik had revealed his desire for her, and his affection was never in doubt. If he both desired and cared for her, why couldn't he see that they should be together? More than anything, she wanted to talk to him- but she didn't want him to enter into a relationship with her simply because she'd suggested it. 

She wanted Erik to choose her by his own choice.

Was that asking for too much? Christine didn't think so, though obviously it would take longer to achieve. Erik wasn't known for rushing into things, and for that matter neither was Christine. She wanted it to happen, but she wanted it to happen right.

Her expression grew dreamy as she recalled the kisses he'd feathered over her throat, the way his lips had tasted on her own, and the strength she'd felt in his body. She had never been held by a man; the power of Erik's arms had been surprising and wonderful. She understood now, why he had not removed any of his own clothing, but still she yearned for him to be revealed to her. She wanted him to be naked, his every secret revealed to her eyes. She wanted to give herself to him fully, to give him the peace and passion that no other woman ever had. Christine felt drugged, euphoric.

She wanted Erik again, fiercely, and she blinked several times to clear her mind.

_Now is not the time to let my imagination get the better of me_, she thought. As she had been raised both in Shalimar and in the American culture, she had conflicting views of a woman's seduction of a man. Could she seduce Erik without losing his respect? Would he see her as empowered and independent or simply wanton?

Sighing, Christine asserted that she did not have to cater to one ideal or the other. Why should she? Much like Erik, she had been raised in two differing cultures, and taken something from each. The expression of "A lamb in the kitchen, a tiger in the bedroom" could certainly be applied. For Erik, she would be fiercely loyal and dedicated to pleasing him. She balked at the idea of losing her identity in favor of his, but she would strive to be all that he could ever hope for, just as he would be for her.

For years now, she had followed her heart. First in school, then with signing to her modeling agency, and in her choice to pursue Erik, however subtle her original plans had been. Her heart thumped in her chest, reassuring her that she had to make the man see how happy they could be, if only he would allow it.

It was a risk to their frienship, but couldn't she now, especially now, choose for herself what would be for the best?

_Yes. I have to take that chance._

Christine smiled to herself in the mirror and turned to the closet to select her clothes for the day.

* * *

Erik had been pacing the living room when she found him. His mind had been racing, trying ultimately too hard to understand both himself and the girl that now shared his home. He'd shouted at her, accused her and forced a kiss on her before commanding her to his bedroom- and she had come to him! 

The man still could hardly believe the truth of it.

That Christine had willingly come to him, submitted and allowed him to take her to his bed was beyond astounding. She had not protested his kisses or stopped him from touching her...

_But then why would she? Certainly another man has kissed her, touched her, taken her..._

Erik clenched his fists at the thought, ready to kill any man that would look at her, let alone anyone that she had been involved with! He knew he had no right to judge her past, especially as circumstances had forced disclosure from him. She knew he'd taken lovers within the Shaliman palace, the "arrangements" he'd made with courtesans and the women he'd frequented in France.

Erik shook his head, embarrassed to have revealed so much of what he preferred to keep private.

Christine had seen his hands. He'd woken up to her touching his hand, cradling and stroking it as she'd held it between her own delicate digits. He couldn't have helped but to watch her; he'd studied her expression as she'd been studying the scars covering his flesh. There had been no disgust in her face, only a deep concentration, an intense focus.

Erik flexed the fingers on his right hand, the hand she had touched, the hand that had touched her...

He took a deep breath, ready to tear the room apart in his frustration.

"You'll wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing that way,"

Erik's eyes shot to the stairs, where Christine was descending. She smiled at him while he could only stare back at her, dumbfounded. Though casually dressed for the day in spectacular new jeans and a flowing Grecian blouse, Erik could feel his mouth begin to water at the sight of her. She looked so beautiful in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, so vibrant and alive.

She put her hands out to him and without thinking, Erik lifted them to his lips for a soft kiss. Her taste was drugging.

Christine found her voice first. "Hello, Erik."

"Hello, Christine."

An awkward silence passed between them, neither sure what to say. There were so many things unsaid, unexplained, that neither of them knew where to begin. Erik didn't wish to begin anywhere, he wanted either of two things: to take Christine back to his room so that he might have her properly, or to escape the isolation of his apartment with her all together. The latter won out.

"Christine, let me take you to breakfast," he said suddenly. He was eager to be with her, but he wished to be with her in public, out in the open with the sun coming down to greet them. The apartment was smothering, he wanted to escape their scene of anger and passion, but only if Christine was with him.

She smiled at his suggestion, slightly uncertain, and nodded. "Um, sure, Erik I'd love some breakfast. Did you have a place in mind?"

She moved to the kitchen counter to retrieve her purse, leaving Erik to think on his feet. "Ah, McDonald's!"

"McDonald's?"

"Yes! Wouldn't you love a taste of home?" He said erratically, knowing he sounded like an idiot but that it was too late to stop. He promised himself that he would sit down and explain everything to her later that night. Today was their day, no matter what happened between them that evening.

Christine frowned. "No, I wouldn't. I didn't come all the way to France for a Quarter-pounder with cheese."

Erik smirked at her. "You know, in France they call it a _Royale _with cheese."

Despite the awkwardness that hung over them, Christine had to laugh. Maybe they were just being too tense, and Erik had the right idea, that stepping out would be for the best. Fresh air could clear their heads, or at least relax their moods. Then they could speak, sort out their feelings and Christine hoped, moved forward together.

She laughed, and after a moment, Erik joined her.

"All right, I'll have breakfast with you, Erik, but only if you promise me we'll go for baquettes and coffee instead of anything off the Dollar Menu."

Surprising him, Christine took his arm. Despite all that was hanging over him, Erik could only match her smile with his own.

He was lost when it came to resisting her.

* * *

Hours later, and Erik was still at a loss as to how to mend the damage he felt he'd done to their friendship with his cruel words and demands from the day before. Theirs was an infinitely delicate situation, made even more complicated by what had happened in his bedroom. He wanted Christine again, but how could that ever happen? No. She had come to him once, and Erik had given her pleasure rather than take his own fill- he hadn't deserved to even feast his eyes on her, let alone take her body with his own. 

_I want her again, but do I deserve her? We had a chance to become more than friends and I might have ruined it- accusing her, commanding her..._

As they walked, Erik felt her arm slip into his, and smiled to her. Christine had been doing things like that throughout the day; taking his arm when he offered it, standing close to him, smiling and sunny and charming. She was such a wonderful girl. He didn't understand how she could be enjoying her time with him now, after everything he'd accused her of. Why hadn't she been angry with him for what he'd said? Was it that her pleasure from the night before had overwhelmed her anger?

_Christine is almost behaving as if she wants-_

_If she wanted me, I don't believe I have the strength to resist her- but it would be wrong to, wouldn't it, to begin an affair with her? She is precious to me, and she may only be hurt when the time came to end things. This is Christine, not some other woman that I could forget so easily._

It was an endless inward conflict for Erik: he felt he should be damned for the way he'd treated her the night before, but if Christine desired him now after the pleasure he'd given her, then he did not have the will to resist her if she approached him again.

What would happen when night fell?

"You're so pensive, Erik. Positively brooding. What's wrong?"

Erik looked over to see Christine's concerned face. He glanced up. The sky was orange with the setting afternoon sun. His pulse quickened. "Nothing is wrong, Christine. Just thinking, that's all."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

Erik shook his head and tightened his hand over hers, almost surprised to realize that they had been walking hand-in-hand for several blocks. He stopped and turned to face her fully. Behind the mask, he furrowed his brow. Anyone that saw them might think that he was simply a man on an evening walk with his mistress. He lifted his free hand to her face, brushing his fingertips along the high curve of her cheek.

"Just thinking," he repeated.

Christine didn't have to ask what he was thinking about. Their relationship had occupied her thoughts for most of the day as well, however unlike Erik, Christine's mind was focused on how best to move them forward rather than sort out what was right or proper or socially appropriate. Last night had been the proof to her of how good they could be together. She longed to give Erik the pleasure that he had given her. Her heart ached to be his lover.

Erik glanced over to see that they were near the Tiffany storefront, where he had planned to take her yesterday before he had allowed his jealousy to make an idiot of him. He led her toward the store. "Besides, I owe you a present, Christine."

She began to protest, "No, Erik, you don't need to give me anythi-"

He turned to her, a slight smile playing about his lips. "Please, Christine. When a king gives a gift, it must be accepted." He paused outside the store, taking in the sight of Christine on the poster.

It was not vulgar in any way, in fact it was perhaps the most modest of campaigns that Christine had done. This poster in particular was an overhead shot of her laying upon a lounge, with a dark sheet draped over her body, revealing just enough to suggest that she was nude beneath it. Her only adornment was a silver pendant necklace, the showcase piece in the year's new collection.

Reflecting now, and much more calm, Erik had to admit that it was a beautiful photograph. It had an elegant, dreamscape quality that made him think of dark, sensual operas. Her eyes bore into his from the picture, tempting and challenging him. Erik didn't like that so many others could see her in this way, it was a pose that should have been kept private, for a lover alone.

_For me alone._

Still, he refused to let his jealousy overwhelm his logic again. Erik glanced at her. "Once we return to the apartment, I want you to tell me the story of how you came to be on posters like these."

Erik might have posed his request as a question, but Christine was no fool, it was only another thinly veiled command.

She nodded. "I'd be happy to explain."

"Good. But first, your gift." Erik pulled open the door and allowed Christine to step into the store before him.


	15. Plea

Shadows and light swept through the living room as the spotlight atop the Eiffel Tower searched the city, its light filtering in through the high windows. Erik was in a chair beside the dormant fireplace, her portfolio on his lap. Christine watched him in the mirror as he studied each page, absorbing her poses and the characters she portrayed. His head was down, the mask guarded his expression from her.

Christine returned her eyes to her own reflection, and the new necklace that greeted her from the mirror. Erik's silver gift glinted with the light as it passed through the loft. It was beautiful, a replica of the necklace she'd worn in the poster on the Tiffany storefront window. She grazed her fingers over the cool metal, giving herself a slight shiver and smiling oddly to herself as gooseflesh rose over her chest.

Despite having earned such serious wealth at her age, Christine had never been one for much extravagance. Aside from the odd shopping spree with Belinda or her other friends, plus normal day to day expenses, most of her money was safe inside her bank and invested by trusted accountants. What she planned to do with it all someday, Christine had no idea.

Still, even when she could afford such things, it was wonderful to be given a gift. Especially as it came from Erik.

She blushed slightly, remembering the touch of his hands on her body the night before, and only minutes ago when he'd secured the chain at her throat. His breath had tickled the nape of her neck, his fingertips had danced over her collarbone and the pulse points on either side of her throat. She'd closed her eyes for just a moment, willing him to kiss her, but he did not.

He had taken his seat with her portfolio, and had not torn his eyes from the pages yet. Christine looked up again to see that he was not yet halfway through her facebook. Erik was very slow, focusing intensely in on each image. She sighed slightly, seeing that he would likely prefer not to be interrupted. He'd requested her photographs, and Christine had obliged him. It wouldn't do to break his concentration now.

Christine padded up the stairs and slipped into her bedroom, careful not to make any noise lest she disturb him. She didn't know how Erik might react to the various photographs within her thick portfolio. The poses and looks ranged from classically chic, to modest and natural to sensual to blatantly sexual. Christine was thrilled with the career she'd chosen; she adored becoming a different character for each photoshoot, it was exciting and she'd never once been bored. She was free to travel and the perks of the job were wonderful, not to mention the people in the industry she'd met over the years.

She was connected, wealthy and had earned a top place in her field.

If Erik believed the modeling industry to be the breeding ground of drugs, sex and eating disorders he saw on television, then Christine would be happy to enlighten him. The industry had treated her well; in fact Christine thought that she might like to become a photographer herself once she was finished being on the other side of the lens.

Christine sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced at her palm pilot, it was blinking on the nightstand. An e-mail in Belinda's familiar shorthand awaited her.

**Christine, agency has put me on assignment for _Vogue_ in France. Will shoot in Paris first, then Orléans, Lyon, Marseille, etc. Arrive tomorrow, meet me for coffee this week? -B.**

Smiling at the thought of seeing her cousin again, Christine quickly tapped out a reply.

**Great! Will see you soon! -C.**

There was little more to say than that, really, but once they were in person Christine was sure her cousin would manage to pry out every last piece of information she tried to keep secret. Shrugging, Christine thought that she might not mind having someone she could talk to about what had been happening between her and Erik. But then, why not speak to the man himself?

Christine moved to her closet to select her wear for the night. What would Erik prefer? She shook her head.

_It's not all about what he wants- this is about the both of us._

In the end, she chose a pair of rose silk French knickers and a matching camisole. For a touch of modesty Christine pulled on her blue kimono robe; she didn't want to seem presumptuous about the night. If Erik wanted her, she would submit to him, but there was a difference in offering yourself and throwing yourself at a man. Erik would never respect her if she appeared to be doing the latter.

She moved down the stairs to find that Erik had begun a fire even when the weather outside barely hinted at the approaching autumn. He had also changed seats, and now sat on the sofa, closer to the heat. The coffee table before him was laid out with a single wineglass, the wine within so rich that it appeared black in the firelight. He was still paging through her portfolio.

Not wishing to disturb him, Christine kept quiet as she moved into his line of sight and kneeled on the floor before the fire. She closed her eyes for a moment or two, letting the heat warm over her face, chest and shoulders. Even with the heat, a few shivers sped down her spine, though Christine ignored it. She stared into the fire, letting her mind drift back to New York, to her father, to Belinda and Kalila, to her friends, to the places she'd seen and the things she loved.

Images of Central Park and of the Shaliman gardens drifted within her mind's eye, pulling her in two different directions, longing for the two homes that she'd ever known. Large, powerful hands on her shoulders startled her out of her thoughts, and Christine turned to find that Erik had kneeled down behind her. She moved make room for him before the fire, but his hands remained on her shoulders, keeping her close.

The fire gilded his eyes and threw the molded contours of that false face into sharp relief. In a way, he looked like a stranger, but Christine thought that he may remain a stranger to her for years to come, no matter how close she might believe them to be. His eyes bore into hers, seeking something beyond words.

His hands loosened slightly, so that he could cup her face and raise her eyes to meet his. His fingertips stroked the curve of her cheek and then moved lower to touch the necklace she still wore. She couldn't stop herself from reacting to his touch, and let a small gasp escape as his naked hand made contact with her skin. She glanced over to see that his gloves were on the coffee table, and she looked back to him.

"What is it you want, Erik?"

Her question startled him, for he removed his hands from her and moved back, though only slightly.

"I would say, you, Christine. Only you. The problem is that I can't choose which you I prefer. You have so many characters within you." He said, gesturing to her portfolio. "Which are you playing now?"

She shook her head. "I'm not playing at anything. I am myself."

His lips quirked slightly and he began to stroke her arm. "I had hoped so. I prefer the real Christine."

She put her hand over his to stop him from touching her further. "Erik, please don't-"

He pulled his hand back and rested it on his thigh. He sighed, a genuine regret entering into his voice. "I apologize. There is nothing I can do about the scars, but you shouldn't have to see them. I'll just..." Erik didn't bother to explain as he retrieved his gloves and began to pull them on again.

Christine reached out to stop him. "Erik, no, that's not what I meant. I want to talk to you about this, us. The scars...they don't matter to me. I just understand you better now, but they don't matter."

Frowning slightly, Erik allowed her to remove his gloves once more, and she placed her hands within his own. They faced each other, both kneeling on the floor, open and finally ready to be honest. Christine rose up on her knees and brushed his lips with her own, firm and tender. Erik returned her kiss, coaxing her lips to open to him. He tasted her, rousing her passion with deft movements of his mouth. Her hands gripped his shoulders to keep her balance, Erik was making her dizzy. His hands found her waist and he drew her closer.

He broke the kiss and pulled back slightly to look into her eyes once more. He spoke without thinking, the words flowing from his heart and past his lips. "I want you as you are, Christine. Take me as your lover, I'll give you everything..." He breathed against her throat. His passion was mounting, blinding him to all else.

Christine clung to him, her breath coming in short pants as Erik nipped her throat and moved to kiss her lips. He pressed her forward, onto the floor until she lay beneath him. It had been the words she wanted to hear, but still she stopped him. He had to know, she had to make him understand...

Her hands rose to his face, framing the cheeks of his mask so that he would look at her. "Erik, I've only ever wanted you."

Her small declaration gave him pause. _Does she mean...?_

Erik shook the thought away, suddenly realizing that he had her beneath him on the hard floor of the living room. Nevermind the ambiance of the fire and the sweeping light of the Tower, he couldn't take her this way. The floor was cold and it would be uncomfortable for them both if they should make love there. And, it was far too bright.

She would see...

_No._

Erik moved off of her and lifted her to her feet. He speared his fingers through her hair and brought her closer to him. He kissed her, branding her as his for the night. Without a word, Erik took her hand and led her up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

Christine felt as if she was dreaming. Had Erik told her he wanted her? Was he leading her into his room?

He had her sit down on the edge of his bed and then he was quickly moving about the room, drawing the curtains together, turning out the light...Christine felt him approach her, and she reached into the darkness to find him. He was standing directly before her, and Christine's hands had found his hips. Erik drew her hands upward, pulling her up to her feet. She put her hands around his neck and kissed him again, giving her all, and sending up fevered prayers that Erik would accept her gift of love.

Erik pressed Christine back, came over her in his bed. She gasped as he touched her, tried not to giggle once she felt his hand begin to lift the camisole away from her. She understood. The night before he had not touched her breasts; now that they would be lovers, Erik felt entitled to explore his woman.

_His woman!_

The camisole was tossed to the floor. Christine laid beneath him, as vulnerable as she had ever been, while Erik held all the power. The weight of his body pressed her down, and he had remained clothed. Even then he kept her in suspense, staring at her and absorbing her body rather than touch her. Christine was not upset- she had been watched before, by designers and photographers, but it had never felt like this.

Her body arched then, impatient, writhed against the cradle of his hips. Erik dropped his face against her neck and groaned, the sound more animal than man. Christine felt trepidation creep into her chest; she could feel the hardness of him, the strength of his arousal straining against the material of his trousers, fighting to join with her.

She reached to the buttons on his shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin against her own. Once his shirt was parted, she groaned in frustration to find an undershirt still parted them. She reached to the belt at his waist. Abruptly, Erik caught her hands and stopped her from touching him further.

Erik breathed deeply, taking her scent into his lungs to calm himself. If she moved against him again, it could all be over before it began. She was being too bold, he couldn't allow her to undress him, reveal his scars. He couldn't bear her rejection once she saw him fully; he had never shown himself to a woman, he could not show himself to Christine- she was too precious to him. He glared at her, almost angry by the way she effected him.

A king could not allow himself to become enslaved by the charms of a woman; he could not let Christine strip away his control along with his sanity.

He gripped her slender wrists with one hand and brought them over her head. He paused and kissed her, as tenderly as he could stand it. He felt his heart dip within his chest; something unfamiliar and frightening was happening to him. Conflict erupted in what remained of his mind- it was this new fear that drove him into his old habits. "Christine, do you trust me?"

She tried to reach for him, but he held her hands down. Confused now, she nodded. "Yes, Erik."

He kissed her again, softly on the lips and then the forehead. He moved back to the nightstand and retrieved a long band of white silk. Ignoring a strange sense of dread, Erik bound her wrists to the headboard.

The knots were not painfully tight, but it was unnerving to be restrained in such a way; Christine had never felt so vulnerable before. _This is a test,_ she thought. _This is how Erik wishes to take me, with a test of my trust..._

She willed herself to remain calm; Erik would never hurt her, she knew this, but trepidation was creeping over her mind.

Christine's eyes held his, never moving from his face as he began her seduction.

Erik had kissed her, touched her, stroked and explored her body as she lay prone and spread before him. Every gasp and moan he evoked was an encouragement, but there was something off in the back of his mind, a nagging sense of something so fundamentally wrong in what he was doing to her. He realized that he didn't want it to be this way, the way it had been with the women of his past...

Again, he tasted her, again he stroked her. Christine shivered, Christine sobbed. Together, their passions had risen to fever pitch, and Erik found himself almost content to again give Christine the ultimate pleasure, to simply watch as she gasped and moved beneath him.

She was even more beautiful to him in this way; here Christine was not a character in a photograph or magazine page. She was real here with him. Naked, vulnerable, alive, and belonging to him as no other woman had before. His heart dipped again at the sight of her, and he suddenly couldn't bear to have her restrained any longer. He didn't like that she so resembled the other women that he had put into that same position. Erik released her hands from their gentle binds and in an instant, Christine put her arms around him, bringing him closer. She kissed him, giving him everything of herself. Erik's heart thrilled as she moved against him again, wanting him with a desperate madness borne of denial.

In his greatest cruelty, Erik had not yet given Christine her final release; he had teased and tormented her, delighting in her every moan and movement against his hands and mouth.

Carefully, Erik eased himself free of his trousers and knelt between her yielding thighs. He put his lips to her throat, murmuring encouragement for her to take him into herself. Christine held him close, bracing for the pain she knew would come and willing her body to allow Erik's invasion.

_I love you, Erik. I want this- you're all I've ever wanted!_

Erik's body stiffened over hers, frozen as he tried to make sense of the resistance he felt. He'd never had a virgin before, but there was no mistaking the fragile barrier that shielded her from his full penetration.

_God, can it be true?_

He slowed his breathing and forced himself to look down at her. A spear of regret lanced through him as he looked upon Christine's face. Her eyes were closed and her jaw was clenched, likely to keep herself from crying out at the pain he was causing her. A sick feeling formed in Erik's stomach, and all thoughts of taking her vanished from his mind.

Dying inside, Erik did the only thing that he could, and withdrew from her.

Christine opened her eyes, confusion clouding her expression as she watched him right himself and turn to sit on the edge of the bed. "Erik, why are you-?"

"You should have told me."

Christine winced at his voice. He was not angry, far from it. Rather, his voice was quiet, almost sorrowful. At once she felt ashamed of herself for not having alerted him to her virgin state, for letting him think what he would of her, so long as they ended up in bed together. A lie by omission was still a lie; she had anticipated Erik's reluctance to take her if he'd known she was untouched, and so like any model, she had simply acted her part.

The girl looked down at herself, naked but for the silk panties she'd bought to entice him. She felt filthy from Erik's gentle accusation. _You should have told me._ It would have eased her heart if Erik had been angry with her for keeping the secret; she knew his temper now, that he would rage and the fire would quickly die out and that he would return to himself. Now, he appeared hurt at the revelation of her deceit, and that Christine could not stand.

She reached to him, expecting him to shake her off, but Erik allowed her to embrace him from behind. Her arms wove into a tight band around his shoulders, and she dipped her lips to kiss the side of his throat. "Erik, I'm sorry. Please, I never meant to lie to you."

He released a heavy sigh and turned to her. A swift kiss of his lips relieved her guilt somewhat, but she still blushed from the shame. "It's all right, Christine." In the darkness, Christine closed her eyes as his hand rose to stroke her hair. "I'm glad that I didn't..." He sighed again, not sure how to continue.

"We can still-"

"No, Christine." His voice was hoarse from being denied, but determined. "I can't take you like this, you know I can't. This gift is not mine to take. Your virginity belongs to a man that could make you happy, Christine, do you understand?"

_But you make me happier than you could ever know! Don't do this to me, Erik!_

Christine felt a tear slip down her cheek, and at once she could not stop the sobs that escaped her. "Erik, no, I want..."

His arms came around her. "No, Christine, please. You think this is what you want, but it isn't. I've made you feel pleasure now, but in the morning you will feel nothing but regret. I can't let you waste your virginity on me...I'm not worth such a sacrifice, Christine."

That he thought so little of himself only made Christine cry harder, which in turn had Erik hold her tighter. He moved to lean back against the headboard, and brought her to rest against him. He stroked her bare back, noticing that her breasts were still tight. He wondered if the reaction was due to his touch or because she had grown chilled. No wonder, as she was as close to naked as he had ever seen her.

He retrieved his own robe and brought it over her, hoping to keep the cold at bay. He held her closer, sorry for everything that had happened between them. His accusations from the day before shamed him deeper than ever, and his commands that she come to his bed night after night while she was in Paris haunted him like demons.

After a time, the curled figure moved against him, and Erik glanced down into Christine's bright eyes. "Erik, listen to me. I could be the one. I could make you happy. Please, abandon your search for the courtesy wife; end it here, with me."

Her plea was so heartfelt and disturbing that Erik didn't know what to say.

As the night wore on, he didn't say anything at all.


	16. Liar

**Author's Note: Short chapter, but it had to be this way to make it fit in with what I have in store. Read, eview, enjoy.**

* * *

Christine had tried, very hard, to stay awake the whole night in case Erik would answer her. 

The hopes had been wasted, for Erik had remained silent after her plea that he give up the search for a wife- not a word to be heard from him after she'd all but begged him to choose her. He'd only held her tighter against him and sighed. She had waited, praying for his love, but Erik had remained quiet until his deep, even breathing had assured her that he had fallen asleep.

Christine must have slept as well, with empty dreams, as she started awake at the crash of thunder.

It might never rain in southern California, if the song was true, but Paris was as susceptible to rain as the next city. She opened her eyes on darkness, the sky outside as deep a charcoal gray as Christine had ever seen. A white streak of lightening flashed in the distance. Christine didn't mind the rain- it matched her mood.

She shifted slightly, surprised to find that Erik had remained in the bed through the night. His long, warm body was laid out beside her. The eyes behind the mask were closed. The man still slept. She had half-expected him to disappear after the debacle from the night before. Christine sighed, her heart aching. Erik and his damn morals! He had been too long steeped in the Shaliman culture, seeming to have forgotten all his innate French passions. Her virginity was not a coup for him; he could not in good conscience take her on as a lover without offering her some sort of promise, be it money, fidelity or the ultimate commitment of marriage.

Erik could not offer her what he did not have to give. He knew she would refuse his money on principle- Christine could be as conniving and clever as any young woman, and not above flirting her way out of a traffic ticket, but she was by no means a woman who would give her body for cash.

_Fidelity? Marriage?_

Hurt, Christine wondered what Erik could see wrong with her as a wife. He had claimed her beautiful and he'd proven his displeasure with attention received from other men. Was it only a physical attraction and jealousy between them? Was there nothing else?

In a swift tumble, Christine could feel her girlish dreams crumbling down upon her.

Erik doesn't want me in his life, he only wanted me in his bed! If I wasn't a virgin, he would have had me just like his other women, his lover for the next few nights. Once he'd tired of me, he would have sent me away as easily as he had the others!

An intense, elemental anger flamed in her chest, flaring through her veins, igniting her entire body until she almost hated the man that still slept mere inches away from her. Christine did not move; she remained silent, staring at the thunderous sky beyond the windows. She imagined what her life might have been if she and Erik had never met, if they'd never formed such a deep friendship.

_I would have been happier without you back in my life- damn you to hell, Erik DeRoux!_

Christine took a deep breath, needing to calm herself. She rose to sit up, uncaring of her naked breasts, completely unmindful that all she wore were the rose panties she'd bought for the sole purpose of enticement. Her fists clenched; despair closed over her heart, though she strived to push it away. A colder, more calculating anger was steeling over her- stemming not from her heart, but from her mind. The very logical, very determined part of her mind that demanded she inflict at least a fraction of the pain that Erik had caused her.

The same voice that had whispered ideas on how best to go about seducing the man now gave different advice.

Tempt him, tease him, force Erik to hate himself for the fool he's become; he's rejected Christine Daae- one who is beautiful, intelligent and perhaps the only woman in the world that loves him for himself, not his wealth or power. He will regret his silence until the day he dies!

Christine smiled wickedly to herself. She felt vindicated, ready to go to war on Erik. To tear his heart to shreds would be the pleasure that he had denied to her.

I would have given you everything, Erik, and all you gave me was your silence. I'm going to destroy you.

She felt a slight restraint when she lifted her hand and realized that the silk band Erik had used from the night before was still tied to her left wrist. She blinked, remembering the skitter of fear she had felt when he'd tied her hands to the headboard, leaving her in complete torture while he'd stroked and tasted her body's delights. It had been strange and terrible to be left even more vulnerable, yet she had trusted in Erik completely. Her only pain stemmed from his refusal.

Christine narrowed her eyes. Back in New York, Erik had spoken of his brief "arrangements" with the courtesans of Shalimar and the women he'd seen in Paris. At the time, Christine had assumed his one- and two-night arrangements were simple flings, but did his insecurities run deeper than that? Was he so determined to distance himself that he had been forced to resort to odd fetishes that better belonged in trash novels than in real life?

She wondered about him in a completely new way, and thought that the man was little more than a stranger at times- she truly knew nothing of him at all.

Thunder rumbled slowly, and then crashed through the sky, jolting Erik awake. His eyes locked with hers for just a moment before he turned his face away and his hands went to the mask, assuring himself that it hadn't come loose or shifted in the night.

"Good morning, Erik."

He hesitated. "Good morning, Christine. Did you sleep well?"

Christine nodded at his question, though her eyes remained steady on the dark sky outside. "Like the dead. Your bed is ideal."

Erik glanced at her, surprised at the comment and unsure what to say. "I'm…I'm glad-"

"But you don't intend to invite me back, do you?"

Nevermind that he'd woken up less than a minute ago- Christine was through avoiding this issue between them.

Erik hesitated. Her nudity was a distraction, the smooth lines of her back were a pleasing sight to offset her obvious anger with him. He sighed and ran uncertain fingers through his hair. "No, Christine. I won't be doing that any more."

Finally, she turned to face him, baring her face and breasts to him fully. "If I had not been a virgin, you would have taken me." It was not posed to him as a question.

Erik felt his pulse quicken, sensing the girl's building anger and hating himself for it all the while. All he could offer her was the truth. "Yes."

"How?"

He frowned. "What?"

"If I had not been a virgin, how would you have taken me, Erik? Do you tie down all of your lovers with silk bands or did you intend that for me alone?"

"We will not speak of this," he hissed at her, glaring.

"Why? Tell me about your women, Erik. Tell me what you do to them, and what you would have done to me. What would you have done? Tied me down, as you've tied them?"

"Christine, stop it-"

"Why? Will you spank me, _master_, if I continue to disobey? Chain me to the wall and whip me if I don't stop?" She demanded, reckless in her anger now.

Erik felt his shame and anger deepen with her every word. Memories seeped into his mind, reminding him of the man he'd become ever since his new life had begun in Shalimar. "Christine, it's not like that-"

Her voice had calmed slightly, but still she demanded more truths from him. "Tell me, Erik. After last night, I deserve to know what you'd intended for me."

Frustration mounting, Erik turned away from her for a moment, gathering his resolve. There was a stab of pain in his chest, but he knew what he had to do. _She is too close, push her away, scare her, disgust her, let her hate you and then forget you- do it to protect her, you know she deserves better than this._

He glared at her once more. "You are so eager to know? Fine then. You…I would have had you for a night or two, but eventually things would begin to change. I would have tired of you, and then sent you away, just like the others. You would have bored me once the novelty was gone. You see? It's better this way- I've hurt women before and I'd only hurt you." He finished, choking on his own self-loathing.

Christine listened to him, her face a blank, emotionless mask. Her eyes had darkened as he'd told her, but she had not begun to cry, nor rage or fight him. She was, in fact, eerily calm. So calm that Erik felt momentarily disturbed.

Her eyes searched his, and then she blinked once and nodded once. Only once. She rose from his bed, again uncaring of her naked chest. She stared down at him, silent for another several moments. Finally, she spoke to him, only one word.

"Liar."

With more dignity than Erik could have ever displayed, Christine turned and walked out of his room.

The thunder crashed again outside, but it was Christine that had left him completely shaken.


	17. One More Chance

Christine had wasted no time in throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt before leaving Erik's loft. Nevermind that she was exposing herself to the most fashionable city in the world unwashed, ungroomed and blind with anger, Christine was beyond caring what the world thought.

Her frustration with Erik only compounded itself as she stalked up the street, the bitter taste of rejection clinging to the interior of her mouth. Why couldn't Erik at least consider her? Was she so worthless in his eyes that the only use she could serve would be for his libido? He'd lied to her, filling her mind with doubt. She knew that Erik had had no true relationship with a woman. All he knew was how to give pleasure, but the man had no notion of caring, of companionship. His position in the world, first as a loathed bastard half-prince and then as an adored king, had prevented him from building a close relationship with anyone. Erik did not know what it was to trust.

She loved Erik but there was nothing she could do to convince him that she could be the woman for him. If he could feel any love for her at all, it had to occur naturally- she could not force him. Christine wondered what it would take to get through to him. Surely by now he knew she felt love for him. Surely by now he understood that she had chosen him...

Her unkempt reflection mocked her from a store window, and so Christine sighed and took a travel brush from her purse and then ran it through her hair as she continued walking up the block. She was in Paris, after all. Appearance mattered here more than anywhere else in the world. Christine felt tired, exhausted really, both emotionally and physically.

_I can't keep going in circles like this, it'll kill me if I don't stop! I just...I need a rest..._

Nevermind her own frustration and pain, Christine could not stand any more stress over Erik, or over anything else, really. She needed time to herself, to regroup and reconsider everything. It might be the best thing for them both if she just left. Erik was still a king, and didn't need the trouble she was bringing into his life. Taking a deep breath, Christine swiped the tears from her face and hoped that her eyes would clear to leave no trace of her crying. She didn't feel ready to return to the loft yet. She would speak to Erik soon, but not yet. There was no telling what would happen between them now; Christine could only hope for the best.

_I can't hate the man. I love him so much. If only he would let go and let himself love me..._

* * *

Sometime later, her palm pilot chirped to life with another message from Belinda. Christine had just finished a late lunch and had been walking down a side street with a latte as she read the short note from her platinum cousin. 

**'Will arrive in Paris in a few hours. Staying at Hilton, see me soon! -B.'**

All at once, Christine wanted to go back to New York; she dearly missed Belinda and Kalila, her aunt and uncle, her friends and her city. Having been miserable for hours, Christine realized that coming to Paris had been a mistake, and revealing her feelings to Erik had been even worse.

Better that he had never known, rather than reject everything she could give.

Christine sipped her coffee and grimaced as a small boat passed by on the river. Christine was angry with Erik, but she knew in her heart that whatever the man felt towards her, he was afraid. Afraid of being hurt, afraid of being loved- whatever the reason, Christine knew she couldn't let Erik push her away. She wanted to hurt him for what he'd done to her, awakening the passions within and then rejecting her so completely, but by the same token she wanted his love.

_I've been gone all day, I need to speak with Erik. The happiness we could have deserves one more chance...I'll tell him everything- if he still refuses me, I will go back to New York tonight. There is no point in remaining where I am not wanted..._

Her day had been full of activity; she had gone for breakfast and lunch, with coffee in between, she'd taken in a film as well but as didn't speak French she'd had no idea what the drama had been about. It hadn't mattered. While Christine had wandered the city taking in the entertainments of Paris, her thoughts had never been far from the situation with Erik. Eventually, she had reached the conclusion that she would try only one more time to make Erik see that she could be for him, and if he rejected her again, she would leave.

It was a simple plan but what alternative was there? Remain in his loft and pretend as if the past several days had never happened? Christine rolled her eyes at the thought as the lift rose to Erik's floor of the building. The twin doors slid open to let her out, and Christine hesitated before the door that led into Erik's loft.

_Do it, do it, find out, once and for all..._

Steeling her nerves, Christine opened the door and walked inside, surprised at the brightness of the loft. The heavy drapes had been pulled aside from the large windows. Sunset spilled into every corner of the loft, flooding the large bare space with color. She squinted at the sun, wondering why Erik would have let in so much light. He was the sort that appreciated a measure of darkness in his home. Slightly unnerved now, Christine stepped forward.

"Erik?" She called.

He moved out of the kitchen, his telephone firmly in hand. At the sight of her, he dropped the phone, not caring, and his eyes blazed. Christine felt her heart sink in intimidation as he came closer, his gaze catching the sunlight and igniting into pure gold. He reached forward to grasp her shoulders. "Where have you been?! I've been out of my mind with worry, Christine, anything could have happened to you!"

She stepped out of his grasp. "Well, nothing did. I don't think I could have gone more than five blocks away from the loft today."

He would not let it go. "Many things could have happened to you within those five blocks, Christine. I've been on the phone with Montar, ordering him to all of the places you could have possibly gone!"

She rolled her eyes. "Call off your bodyguard, Erik. I'm here, but it's up to you alone how long I will stay."

The eyes behind the mask narrowed at her. "What?"

Christine took a deep breath to steady herself. The words were there, and when she might have expected fear to overcome her, she felt no reason to hesitate. If she could not be honest with Erik now, there would be no hope for them at all. It was a new sensation to Christine, this new fearlessness. It was not reckless anger that drove her, nor any sense of madness- it was a soul-deep certainty that assured her, no matter what the outcome, she was doing the right thing.

Erik watched, still both angry with her for scaring him and relieved to have her returned safely to him. The girl drew herself up to her full height and her bright eyes connected with his own. Before Erik could stop her, Christine moved forward and took his lips with her own. It was a brief, charged kiss. Erik was surprised; after what he had put her through, he knew he deserved nothing less than her complete contempt. Her scent swept over him, invading his senses, compelling him to lift his arms and hold her, to bring her closer and embrace her as his lover...

Christine pulled away before Erik's bare hands could reach for her, her expression determined and intent. He felt hypnotized, he wanted to touch her hair, her face...

Christine bit her bottom lip for a moment, gathering her strength. "I've loved you since Shalimar, Erik, and though I've tried to forget about you over the years, I could not. I've chosen you. If you cannot love me, I will leave Paris tonight and never think of you again. I will leave unless you give me a reason to stay."


	18. Exposed

Erik felt as if the entire world had narrowed down to the moment that had just passed between he and Christine. He was dreaming, surely, and soon the haze would lift from his mind, taking the illusion of Christine's love with it. She was close to him, and Erik drew her forward against him in a gentle embrace. Her scent invaded his senses, intoxicating him. She was solid, she was warm and she was real.

Terrifying. Her love was no illusion.

He opened his eyes and drew back to look at her. Christine looked at him, both hurt and hopeful. Her hands remained on the covered planes of his chest, her heat burning through him. His hand rose to her face, cupping it lightly. Something turned over in his heart as she leaned into his touch. His eyes blazed in the fading light and he couldn't understand...

"How did this happen?"

The question was asked before Erik could stop himself. Christine raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"How can you love me, Christine?" It was not self-pity that spoke for him now, only genuine curiosity. "I went to great lengths to keep a certain distance between us in Shalimar. This was never meant to happen."

She granted him a small smile. "I chose you, Erik. I don't know how it happened. I won't apologize for this, or feel any shame for it. I love you as you are, none of the rest matters to me. What matters now is...could you ever love me?" Her eyes held fear now, for Erik held the power of her devotion. She prayed he would not crush her with it.

Erik took a step back from her, but kept her hands within his own. Her words stunned him. He felt unbalanced, confused. He was torn between the urge to run from her and the urge to take her into his arms once more. "I'm...I'm sorry, Christine. I don't know what to say. This has never happened to me before."

"This?"

"No woman has ever claimed love for me, not in this way."

"Never?"

He shook his head. "No woman has loved me. They've loved my gifts, how I made them feel...for years there has been nothing else." Erik said, dazed. He was rarely ever set off-balance; the force of Christine's love rendered him completely senseless. It was a concept with which he had no experience and very little comprehension.

_Christine loves me? Impossible!_

She nodded, her head drooping slightly. "Ah, yes, the 'arrangements' with your other lovers. I have not forgotten. Tell me, Erik, what do you plan to do now?"

Christine felt a weight lifted from her heart at revealing her love to him, but she strained to understand his reaction. Erik was caught off-guard from her confession, but she could wait no longer for him. She had to know now, one way or the other. The longer he remained silent, the more painful her torture.

Erik held her hands tighter in his grip, searching for the right words.

"Christine, I...I care for you very much, I desire you. You have always been precious to me, even when you were that child in the gardens. I know I would be the most fortunate of men if we..." He sighed. "I don't know that I could live with myself if I ever hurt you in any way..." Erik confessed, a sudden shame steeling over him. Where he'd once thought her to be an experienced young woman, he now found himself confronted with a virgin who loved him. His every word, his every action had the potential to hurt her now. His heart was heavy with the familiar weight of this new responsibility to her.

Christine reached forward to gently cup his masked cheek. She raised his eyes to hers. "Erik, I am not afraid of being hurt by you. I am only afraid that you will refuse me." She stroked his chest and shoulder with her opposite hand, drawing him in closer and drowning his doubts.

Her gentle pleas for his love, her heat, her kindness, her beauty...something about it all was just so _right_.

Swallowing thickly, finally giving in, Erik brought her closer. "When have I ever been able to refuse you?" He breathed against her ear.

"Erik," Christine shivered, and offered her mouth to his plundering kiss.

He clasped her to him, bringing their bodies into full contact. Sudden fevered blood pounded its way through their veins, hot and urgent. There was no time for the more subtle points of seduction, no time to prepare the setting or select the most alluring attire.

Erik would have her here, now, as she was.

Hard, seeking hands spanned Christine's back, lower and lower, until he cupped her bottom. Erik lifted her against him and backed up until he felt the sofa at the back of his legs. He sat down and brought Christine forward to straddle his lap. They laughed as they kissed, all new experiences for Erik. That friendship could couple with passion was a new, welcome discovery.

He kissed Christine, both tender and fierce, one kiss shifting to the next. She giggled once she felt his hands at her waist, tickling with purpose. Erik's hands moved under her shirt to touch the skin exposed at her back. His lips moved from her lips to her jaw and neck, smiling in triumph as Christine gasped and moved her hips against his.

It was clear that she was inexperienced only because Erik had held back, refusing what she'd offerred to no man before him.

_No more._

Erik growled against her throat, calling to his mate.

She was his.

His to be claimed, his to be taken.

Christine assisted Erik as he pulled off her shirt. He kissed the top swells of her breasts, exposed by her lace half-bra. Christine moaned and shivered; it was all new to her. New, terrifying, thrilling. She held him closer, spearing her fingers into his hair and holding fast to him, clinging, both frightened and excited.

Erik paused, suddenly realizing their surroundings. The light from sunset was quickly fading, but Christine would be able to see everything if his mask were to be removed. The hands that gripped his hair were too close to the mask as it was.

They had gone into things too quickly. Erik had not taken the time to explain his rules to her.

The man stopped and drew himself back from her, taking her hands into his. "Christine. Christine...we must stop."

Her eyes clouded with confusion. "What?"

They were both panting, aching to make love, but Erik couldn't have her like this, straddling him on the sofa in plain sight. She deserved better, to be worshipped in his bed, secreted away from the intrusive light of the sky. Calming her, Erik stroked her back, easing the new tension there. "I won't have you here, we must go to my room."

Impatient, urgent, Christine frowned. "Why? What's wrong with-"

Erik leaned forward to take her mouth with his. "I can only have you fully in the bedroom, Christine." He cupped her face, pressing the pad of his thumb to the center of her kiss-bruised bottom lip. "Please go, I'll follow you."

At Erik's command, Christine did as she was told. Erik watched in appreciation as she went up the stairs and disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind her. He took a moment to calm himself before striding into the kitchen for an appropriate bottle of wine to fit the occasion. It was Christine's first time with a man, their first night together as full lovers. He forced himself to take a calming breath; he had only enough control to know that he had to be everything for her tonight. Everything that happened between them now would determine the course of their relationship to each other. If all was not perfect, it could all fall apart.

After several deep breaths, Erik headed towards the stairs. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman, and never had a woman declared her love to him before. All of the others had understood that his responsibilities to Shalimar would always come first; they had understood that, and accomodated his needs without question. There had been no room for misunderstandings in those arrangements, but tonight was wholly different than anything he'd ever experienced.

Erik had gone out of his way to draw Christine back into his life, hardly hesitating to reclaim her once he'd been informed of poor Gabriel's passing. He wondered for a moment if he'd subconsciously been waiting for Christine's father to be out of the way before he saw her again so that he would truly have her to himself, but he shook off the notion. Erik had loved Gabriel; the man knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't so calculating as to have created this elaborate scheme just to get his hands on the daughter of his dead friend.

_No._

Things had fallen into place on their own.

Christine loved him, she wanted him. Erik's heart pounded as he reached the door to his bedroom. On the other side, she awaited him. Tonight, as it nearly had the night before, her body would welcome his; they would be one, finally complete. Her virginity weighed heavily on his conscience; after tonight her purity would belong to him. Erik strained to leave behind the Shaliman beliefs that had been drilled into his mind for the past thirty years; Christine would be his lover, her value rested on her soul, not her virginity.

Erik cared so much for her- he didn't know if he could feel love in the way she did, he had no true experience with the emotion. He'd loved his mother very much, and she had been taken from him. Erik glanced down to the scars lacing over his left hand and frowned.

Adelle had been the only person he could recall that loved him, save his half-brother Kumar. There was love between them, though it was distant. Could he love Christine? Erik honestly didn't know. He wanted to make her happy, to give her pleasure and to make her smile. He wanted to protect her, in his bed and in his life. She would be his tonight, and he would be hers.

Waiting no longer, Erik opened the door and stepped into his bedroom.


	19. The Rules

Erik stepped into his room, both anxious and excited. His heart thundered within his chest, fevered blood echoing in his ears. He licked his lips and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. "Christine?"

"I'm here," she said from behind him.

Erik shut the door and turned to her. She had relieved herself of the jeans she'd been wearing earlier, and stood before him now in her lace half-bra and the matching panties. He reached to her, bringing her against him in a gentle embrace. Her arms rose up to loop about his neck.

They stood together for long moments, both happy and content to hold each other. Erik breathed in her scent, reminding himself of her innocence. He pulled back to cup her face, and met her bright gaze with his own. "Christine, are you sure you want this? It is not too late to change your mi-"

She silenced him with a deep kiss that Erik was powerless to refuse. "I have not changed my mind, Erik. This is what I want, you are all I have ever wanted."

He breathed deeply, desperate to remain in control of himself. No easy task, when his body ached to throw her down onto the bed and take her; his mind and heart refused the thought, this was _Christine_, not one of his other, more experienced mistresses. She deserved nothing less than the best he could give.

Erik kissed her then, and allowed his fingertips to feather over her exposed waist. She was so soft, her skin burned beneath his hands. His lips moved from her mouth down to her neck. His teeth grazed her there, delighting as she moaned and shivered. Erik smiled and bent his head lower to kiss the small hollow of her collarbones.

Christine's hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, her heat burning through his shirt. Distantly, her mind registered that she could feel his uneven flesh beneath the material, but Christine felt too aroused, too weightless to take notice. Erik grasped her bottom once more, lifting her against his body and moved to carry her toward the bed.

"Christine," he breathed against her ear. "Christine, you are sure?"

She nodded and pulled him closer as he laid her down on the bed, bringing him to rest atop her. They continued kissing, drinking from each other. Erik felt triumphant with her every gasp and moan. How had so much happened between them in so short a time? How had he ever been with a woman without feeling this…_this_…?

He felt her hands at the closure of his shirt, her slender fingers searching for the buttons, intending to bear him to her eyes and touch. Erik blinked, then took her hands into his and held them above her head.

_No._

He couldn't let her do that.

Her eyes met his, questioning, but somehow she seemed to understand. Erik's hand smoothed down her body, moving lower, cupping and stroking her as he had the night before, pleased to find her warm and ready for him. He dipped his head to kiss her breast, but he did not linger for long. His hands moved over her legs, eliciting small cries from her.

She writhed beneath him, sighing his name.

Erik removed his trousers, careful not to move too suddenly, too forcefully against her. He stroked her further, bringing her the pleasure she craved, the pleasure she deserved. She was calling to him, her body begging him to take her. He could wait no longer; Erik gritted his teeth and entered her fully in one quick move.

Christine gasped and cried out at the sudden pain, her nails clawing at his covered back. He didn't move, allowing her to adjust to him. Her muscles contracted around him, an instinctive attempt to halt his intrusion. Erik knew she welcomed him within herself, despite the pain he caused. He gritted his teeth to keep himself under control; the urge to move against her was strong, but he had to wait for her.

Erik lifted his head, careful to keep his body still above her. In the near darkness, he could just barely make out her expression. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathed, willing her body to relax for him. Erik stroked her cheek. "Christine." He whispered against her throat.

Her eyes opened slowly and she rolled her head to look at him.

"Christine," he repeated hoarsely. "The pain...if it is too much, I will stop."

How Erik could fulfill that promise, he had no idea; as a man, it would be nearly impossible for him to deprive himself of having her fully at this point. He touched her face and hair, secretly hoping that she would urge him on.

Christine took a deep breath, her face suddenly animated once more, and she lifted her hips against him. The movement was clumsy due to her inexperience, but its intent was obvious. She wished to continue, to see this night through to the end. Erik needed no more encouragement, and slowly, as carefully as he was able, he began to move against her.

Christine swallowed back the cries of pain that built in her throat, willing herself to be silent and to accept the pain as it ebbed and flowed through her; already it was lessening, Erik began to caress her again, attempting to distract her body's pain with pleasure. He kissed her, he stroked and cupped her. All the while, Erik continued to move with her, matching her rhythm to his own .

Their breathing had deepened to long pants, punctuated by gutteral moans and growls from Erik and the whispered sighs and whimpers of Christine. His body stiffened above hers, shuddering in his climax, and he then went very still. Christine held Erik against her, bringing his full weight to lay atop her prone body.

With an effort, Erik moved off of Christine, and rolled onto his back. Their bodies remained joined as he positioned her to lay atop him, and he held her close. Christine tucked her tussled dark head beneath his chin, oddly aware that he had not removed either his mask or his shirt while they had made love.

She had expected that; Erik would not allow her to see him fully until he was ready. Christine felt no need to push the issue- there was no need to rush into anything, not now when Erik held her after such wonderful passion.

There was no need for anything...

Erik held Christine as she slept against him, his lips quirking at the irony that she had fallen asleep just after making love rather than he. Interesting twist on the old stereotype. She laid against him even as he remained within her, an intimacy that Erik had never known. He felt apprehensive about the questions that would come in the morning, but what could be done about them now?

Nothing.

He brought a hand up to stroke through Christine's hair, delighting at the feel of it against his naked fingers. He delighted at just the sensation of her against him. Beautiful, wonderful, precious Christine. How had he ever thought to take another as a lover or wife? How had he assumed other men had taken her? A fierce possessiveness swept through him.

_I won't let her go- not when the morning comes, never!_

* * *

Erik slept some, but only lightly. He was rested upon waking, however lingering thoughts had remained just on the surface of his mind, all concerning Christine. He worried over the pain he'd caused her in their joining, for their first union would influence how she viewed sex for the rest of her life. It was a heavy weight of apprehension that settled over his heart. He wanted her to wake up, but Erik refused to wake her himself. 

_Let her sleep, let her recover..._

He adjusted his position slightly, shifting his weight, and stroked her hair once again. She was naked atop him, making him uncomfortably warm, but he ignored his discomfort for her benefit. Erik frowned slightly; his body was still joined to hers. Carefully, he separated himself from her; her virgin blood stained him.

The proof of their union speared him; Erik had taken her without any forethought. A child could result from what they had done- Erik would welcome a child but what about Christine? She was so young, she couldn't be ready for children yet, and besides that there was her career to consider. Erik eased Christine onto her side beside him and he sat up, leaning his back against the headboard.

_If there comes a child, of course I will honor them both, but it is too soon; children must come after marriage and marriage must come only after understandings are met between us. That is, if she would have me..._

They had established no understandings that night; Erik slipped off his mask to run a tired hand over his face. He and Christine had so many things to discuss, he should not have rushed into things with her. By taking her, he had claimed her as his own and though Erik had no intention of releasing her now, he knew he had to explain things to her.

Christine shifted beside him and Erik fumbled to replace his mask, startled. A small frown creased her brow just before her eyes blinked open. It was still dark outside, the sun had not yet risen. Assuring himself that his mask was in place, Erik turned his eyes to meet hers. She lay, prone on the bed beside him, staring up to him. Tentatively, he reached to her and stroked her hair. Her expression was unreadable, she simply watched him.

"Christine," he whispered.

Her lips quirked then, finally giving him the smile he'd been waiting for. His fingertips grazed over her cheek and he smiled with her. "How do you feel?" He asked.

She moved her legs slightly, wincing as she did. Carefully, Christine moved to kneel before him, a sudden modesty had her raising her hands to cover her exposed breasts. Erik leaned forward and brought her hands away from her chest. He brought his face very close to hers, his eyes burning with restrained intent. "Do not cover yourself with me, Christine. There is no need," he smiled then, and dropped his head to kiss the swell, then the tip of each breast.

Christine sighed and reached for him. Erik held her, burying his safely masked face in the mass of her glorious hair. His hand stroked the long line of her naked back, and leaned her back against the sheets once more. He laid half-atop her, and pressed his lips to her own before simply resting his head on her chest. Erik's golden eyes slipped closed in pleasure as her hands reached up to stroke through his hair.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her again, struggling to stay focused as her skilled hands massaged his scalp.

Christine paused, only just. "I feel...different, Erik. It hurt, but it doesn't feel so bad now." Her hands moved lower, to smooth over his clad back. "How do you feel?"

Erik smiled slightly and stroked her left breast, watching in interest as it peaked for him. He delighted in the power he now weilded over her body. "I feel fine. Wonderful in fact. I was worried for you. I know there was pain, I tried not to hurt you but-"

"Don't worry about that, Erik. Belinda has told me that it gets easier each time." Christine assured him, struggling not to writhe against him as his fingertips moved from her breast to danced over her belly.

He kissed her, then smiled against her mouth. "So you'll allow me to have you again?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed. "I'm yours, Erik, for however long you want me."

The submission in her statement pierced him, and he took her mouth with his. _I want you with me, always._

* * *

Once the sun had risen, Christine went to take a shower in Erik's bathroom. She had asked if he would join her, but Erik had politely declined. He would have to be completely naked to share a shower with her, but Erik wasn't ready to reveal himself to her. He wondered if he ever would be. 

Erik remained in his bed, content to simply listen to the running water as Christine showered. _My woman_, his primitive brain whispered. His lips quirked at the thought, and he fought the smile he could feel coming on. _Yes, my woman._

Christine stepped out, wrapped in a towel. She smiled at him. "I'm going to change and then I'll be right back,"

"Why bother to put any clothes on? I wouldn't mind if you roamed the house naked." He said, surprising them both with his playfulness.

A faint blush worked its way up her neck and cheeks. Erik felt himself grow warmer at the sight. Christine shook her head. "I'm, um, I'll be right back," she said, striding out of his room and disappearing into her own. Erik shook his head and went into the bathroom for a shower of his own.

As the water beat down on his heated flesh, Erik couldn't stop himself from smiling this time. It was not only the physical release that raised his spirits, but Christine herself. Beautiful, kind, wonderful Christine! He closed his eyes and let the water course over his face, unmindful of the scars that covered him.

_The girl loves me, she allowed me to become her lover- her only lover, if I have my way. I will have her, and in time, if she would allow it, I will marry her._

The thought hit him, a realization akin to a lightbulb.

Erik thought Christine was wonderful in every way.

_Click._

She would make a perfect wife.

He frowned and began to soap himself, slightly reluctant to wash her scent from his skin. He began to picture a life with Christine, the happiness she had always brought into his life would become a precious constant, what he would miss most when she was gone and adore most when they were together. Whether they spent the nights in or out, Erik didn't care so long as they were together.

Children could come later, Erik thought that he might be happy to have her to himself for several years before a child resulted from their union. That was, if he had not gotten her pregnant the night before.

He opened his eyes and turned off the taps.

Erik stepped out of the shower stall and peeked out the bathroom door into his bedroom. Christine was nowhere to be seen. He patted himself dry and then wrapped the towel around his waist as he strode over to his dresser. Quickly, Erik chose his wardrobe for the day and dressed himself. After adjusting his mask, he reached for his gloves but hesitated.

No need. Christine knew what his hands looked like, and not only did she tolerate his scars, she welcomed his touch!

He remembered their first night together, mere days ago now, when he had been driven mad with jealousy, demanding Christine come to his bed. He'd touched her that night and the two nights since, and she had cried his name in her pleasure. He smiled, feeling confident and a certain pride in his own sexual prowess.

Happily, Erik left the gloves aside and went in search of the girl.

* * *

Christine was found downstairs in the kitchen, cooking what looked to him like Spanish omelettes. His stomach rumbled, but his hunger had nothing at all to do with the food. No, his full attention was on the young woman with her back turned to him. The glorious mass of her hair was pulled back into a loose braid down her back, her slender frame now clad in a pair of dark jeans and a cream sweater. She was barefoot, her toenails paints a bright, racy red. 

Unconsciously, Erik licked his lips and moved forward to greet her. Quietly, he stepped right behind her and bent to her ear, "Christine."

Startled, Christine jumped back, elbowing him in the stomach and nearly brought them both to the floor. "Oh, Erik, you scared me!"

Despite himself, Erik put his arms around her. "I didn't mean to. I thought you'd jump into my arms, not knock me over."

Christine hugged him closer, breathing in his clean scent and relishing in the feel of him. "Sorry, I'm not used to strange men sneaking up on me this early in the morning."

Erik pulled back, a look of mock jealousy in his eyes. "I would hope not. If any other men were ever in this position, I'd put out a contract on their heads. I am still king, you know."

She smiled at him, defiant. "Yes, _sire,_ I remember that. Are you hungry?"

Christine indicated the breakfasts she'd laid out for them to share. Erik shook his head. "I find I am only hungry for you, Christine. Are you feeling all right?"

Blushing now, Christine nodded. "I'll be fine, Erik. The pain will ease after a time, at least that's what Belinda has told me."

Erik frowned slightly. "You've told Belinda that we've been together?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. Not yet, I just meant that she's told me things before. Girls talk about sex too, Erik, men aren't the only ones who speak of such things."

He nodded. "Sex. Is that all it was to you? It can't have been, and it wasn't to me. Last night was...precious to me, Christine." Erik said carefully. He touched her face. "You have always been precious to me."

Christine rose on her toes to kiss him. "You know how I feel about you, Erik. It will never just be about sex to me; it was about us."

He returned her kiss, holding her against him. As much as Erik wanted to take her back upstairs, or even better, take her in the living room, he knew that they had to talk first. It wouldn't be right to continue down this reckless path, the rules had to be established first. "Christine," he breathed, "Come let's eat first, and then I must speak with you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I in trouble?"

Erik adored her playfulness. "No, not today at least." He took her hand and lead her towards the table where they could sit and eat.

They moved towards the table and settled in, eating in companionable silence. Erik smiled as she bumped his foot with hers under the table, and he reached to hold her hand. He wondered if he was feeling love; he still wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was very happy now that Christine was in his life, both as a friend and lover.

She lifted her plate and then took his to the sink. "So, Erik, you said we needed to talk?"

He stood up and gestured for her to follow his lead into the living room. She sat down on the sofa and Erik took a seat across from her. Distantly, he was reminded of their interviews in New York. "Oh, yes. Simply, I need to ask you..." He struggled with the embarassment of speaking of such things; everything about being with Christine was a new experience for him, some experiences being less pleasant than others.

Christine smiled. "Erik, you're blushing!"

Erik cleared his throat. "I know, I'm just not used to discussing these matters."

"These matters?" She pressed.

"Are you using any form of protection? I won't be angry with you if you are unprotected- neither of us was concerned with that last night. I am healthy, you have a right to know that, and I will support you and help to raise any child that-"

Christine put her hand up to calm him. "It's all right, Erik. I've been taking the Pill for the past six months."

Relieved, but still concerned, Erik frowned. "Why? You were a virgin, why do you need them?"

Christine shrugged. "My doctor recommended them to correct a hormone imbalance. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about." She reassured him.

Erik nodded, half relieved and half disappointed.

"Was that all that was worrying you?"

He looked up. "There are a few other things." He swallowed. "If we are to continue this, I must have your promise that you will not take my mask from me."

Christine felt her stomach knot. She knew Erik's reason for his insecurities; something terrible had happened to him, something that scarred him deeper than the skin. She nodded to her friend. "I've never tried to take your mask from you before, why do you think I would do so now?"

Erik let out a breath, happy that she was not angry with him as he'd expected. "Other women have made that demand of me before. You've seen my hands. My face is worse." He finished quietly.

Christine rose from the sofa and crossed to him, moving in close and kissing him softly; first on the lips and then on his each masked cheek. Her hands closed over his. "Show me when you're ready, Erik. I will make no demands of you."


	20. Rocky Road Ahead

Their first day together was spent in gentle laziness. Christine revelled in the change that had occurred between them; though Erik had not said the words, she could feel his love in his every glance and even in the smallest touch. He did not pressure her back into his bed, though his eyes betrayed what he craved- instead, Erik suggested they stay in for the day. Christine nestled closer against him as she kept her eyes on the television screen, not absorbing a single element of the film's plot.

Erik's hand stroked up and down her back, stroking her as he would a favored pet while they reclined on the living room sofa. For the first time in the past several years, Erik could honestly say that he was happy. There were no outside enemies to consider, no diplomatic meetings to host, no crisis to handle, and no pressing responsibilities to attend. He sighed in quiet contentment and shifted his weight, readjusting Christine as she settled against him once more.

He caught the scent of her hair, that same pleasing scent, and his lips quirked into a small smile. His business prospects were still in need of his attention, but Erik knew there was nothing that could not wait. He wouldn't break the moment with Christine for all the world.

They half-napped together for most of the day, but it was Christine who rose from their embrace first in the late afternoon. She moved into her bedroom, the first thing she noticed was her Palm Pilot, blinking rapidly on the nightstand. She crossed the room and with a few rapid clicks she was caught up on Belinda's whereabouts. Smiling, she descended down to the living room once more.

"Erik, Belinda has arrived in Paris. Do you mind if I step out for a while?"

"No need to ask my permission. You can't wait to tell her all the lurid details, can you?" He groused while stretching his arms and yawning.

Christine raised a brow at her friend turned lover. "No, I can't. I'm going to tell her everything, and probably even make up some wild things to make it all sound more interesting."

Erik rose quickly and pulled her closer for a deep, hungry kiss. "Last night wasn't interesting enough for you? I take that as a challenge, Christine. If I bored you, just wait until you come back to me tonight."

* * *

Christine found the hotel where Belinda was staying easily enough thanks to Erik's directions through Paris. No easy task when she couldn't speak the native tongue. Erik had offered to take her there, but Christine had felt determined to negotiate the city on her own. She wasn't a child, after all. 

Once she'd found the hotel, it was nothing for her to step into the lobby and ride the elevator to Belinda's floor. Christine found herself getting excited to see her cousin again, despite that they'd only been apart for a handful of days. Still, so much had happened in those few days.

Belinda opened the door after Chistine knocked a few times, took one look at her and exclaimed, "Christine, you had sex!"

Shocked at the bald statement, Christine fumbled for words. "I...I didn't..."

Belinda rolled her eyes and took Christine by the wrist, leading her into the small hotel room. "Yeah, yeah, of course you didn't. Please, Christine, this is _me_ you're dealing with. I know you better than anyone, but I'll bet Erik knows you even better than I do now." The blonde teased.

Christine cleared her mind, trying to regain her edge; no easy task when she'd been caught out by her cousin so quickly. She cleared her throat. "I was going to build up to telling you."

Belinda laughed and reached into the open suitcase on the bed to retrieve a small bottle of perfume. Spritzing herself, she turned to Christine. "Now where's the fun in that? Tell me everything, from start to finish."

Christine sighed, and as easily as she could, she did as Belinda asked. "...and when I woke up this morning he was just watching me, and touching my hair."

Belinda smiled. "Don't you just love it when guys do that? It's the best! What else, come on, tell me the rest." She eagerly urged.

Christine shrugged, nearly exhausted on the subject. Erik had been all she could think about for the past week, and all she had dreamed about for years before that. "Well, we spent the day just relaxing around the house. We had breakfast, then lunch, we watched movies and we mostly did a whole lot of nothing for most of the day."

Belinda rolled her eyes. "Wow, sounds like fun. Tell me more over coffee, I found a great little cafe around the corner. So what's going to happen now? Will you be Queen Christine by tomorrow?"

Christine shook her head. "Don't be crazy. I think it's a little early to think of marriage- I'd accept if he asked me, but it's only been one day! Besides, he's going to abdicate soon. He doesn't want to be the Shaliman king any longer, he just wants to live his life."

Her cousin shrugged. "Who could blame him? Doesn't everyone just want to live their own life?" Belinda mused. "Well, at least he's not alone anymore, kid, he's got you now."

* * *

Happily, Christine returned to Erik's loft. She could feel her smile growing larger with each step she took closer to the front door. Stepping inside, the thick scent of traditional Shaliman food greeted her in the air. She could hear Erik's deep voice, purring out a few words in his native French. Christine smiled to herself, drunk on her love for him and the hope that he might teach her more wonderful things- both French words and what pleased him most when they were together in his bed. 

Closing the front door behind her, Christine moved out of the loft anteroom and took a step toward the kitchen but paused at the sound of another voice. The voice of a woman, soft and French and pleading.

Wondering what femal interloper dared to approach her man, Christine turned away from the kitchen and moved instead towards the living room. She found them there, the woman was standing before the fireplace as Erik knelt before her. It wasn't that Erik had another woman in his home that shocked her; it was that Erik's hands were gently molded to the shape of her large, visibly pregnant womb. It appeared as if he were cradling the child inside.

She noticed that the woman had been crying, and Erik's voice was thick with emotion as he spoke to her once more, his hands stroking her womb now.

Unbelieving, Christine moved closer. Both Erik and the woman turned as she approached, though neither of them moved to explain themselves.

"Erik?"


	21. Mine

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted, but it was my birthday so I got a little sidetracked, but here's the chapter I promised so read, review and most of all, enjoy!**

* * *

Erik felt his heart drop at the sight of Christine. The look in her eyes, the confusion, the questioning, shamed him. He turned away from her for a moment, removing his hands from Elita's womb. The moment he let go, he was assaulted with an instant sense of painful emptiness. Elita was watching Christine, not understanding.

Sighing, Erik forced himself to stand and face her.

Christine felt frozen, as if the ground beneath her feet was tilting and she had no way to right herself. She could only watch as Erik leaned down to mutter something, some French platitude, into the ear of the pregnant stranger. Who was she? Why was she here, _why was she here?!_

The strange woman nodded and moved away from the fireplace to take a seat on the sofa, her dark eyes simply watching curiously as Erik approached her. Christine brought her eyes away from the woman to focus on Erik as he moved across the room to her. Her heart lurched to see that his golden eyes were wet and slightly red behind the mask; that Erik had been brought to tears was alarming, but it was the circumstances that brought his tears which frightened her.

He came closer, his voice tight with controlled emotion. She could see his eyes becoming steely as he spoke, truly impenetrable. Erik was trying, desperately, to shut himself off to her, with Christine powerless to stop him. In mere moments, the man was gone, and he was Shalimar's great cold king once again. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Christine. I need you to go upstairs to your room, please. Just until Elita and I have finished speaking."

Elita?

_His lover..._

She glared at him. "You want me to-"

"Christine." His voice was firm. He was commanding her now, in no way would he allow her to argue. "Go upstairs."

Angry with him for ordering her, dismissing her, Christine brushed past him and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to her room and feeling like a punished child. But no; it was not Erik sending her away that had her upset. That woman- and her child...

Christine could only assume that it was Erik's child the woman was carrying. Why else would she have come here? Why else would they have both been in tears when Christine had stumbled in on them?

And Erik.

Christine had seen the brightness of tears in his eyes just before he'd turned and seen her. His tears had been...happiness? Pride?

_Love?_

Christine sank onto her bed, her knuckles clinging to the thick eiderdown blanket as she forced herself to remain in control of herself. _Is that woman carrying Erik's child? His baby...how long has he known? Has he known?_

Her mind chased all possible scenarios, each more horrible than the next, but all of them ultimately resulting in Erik turning away from her to embrace the family he'd dreamed of for so long.

Would he do that to her? To himself?

Christine shivered, suddenly very cold. Truly, she didn't know what Erik would do.

She had paced up and down the room for what seemed like years, though in actuality she had remained in her room for only an hour. On the other side of the door, Christine could hear Erik and the woman speaking together on the floor below. At any other time she might had tried eavesdropping, but as the pair were speaking French it would be pointless.

Sinking down onto her bed, Christine took up her Palm Pilot and found a message from Belinda.

**'How are things with you and loverboy? He give you the crown yet?'**

A swell of emotion came over Christine at the glib message. She set the device back onto the nightstand and laid back onto the mattress. What could she type as a reply? Everything was up in the air- her future with Erik was unwritten, any mention of it at all seemed to be hinting at a future that would never be. A fresh swell of tears trailed down her face, and this time Christine made no effort to swipe them from her cheeks.

She laid back, silent in her sobbing, waiting for the worst, for Erik to come to her and announce his marriage to the strange woman downstairs.

* * *

Slowly, Christine blinked herself awake, lost for a moment with no sense of sight or time. Immediately, her memory returned, and she started into full alertness.

_Erik, Elita...their child?_

Turning, Christine realized that she was not alone in the room. Silhouetted by the dim light of the window, Christine could just make out the shape of Shalimar's lonely king. Erik was sitting on the corner of the bed, bent, resting his elbows over his knees. His head was bowed in deep thought. He must have been the one to turn off the overhead light and put the blanket over her.

How long had he been sitting there?

Swallowing, Christine moved to sit up. "Erik."

He raised his head but did not turn to her. "I thought you were asleep."

She shifted closer to him on the bed. "I was. I'm not sure what woke me. Is...are you all right?"

Slowly, he straightened his back until he was sitting upright. "Why not just ask me what you really want to know?"

Christine frowned and rolled her eyes slightly at his evasive attitude. "Fine then. Is the child she's carrying yours, Erik?"

A long silence followed.

Erik sighed. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't, and neither does she."

Growing angry, Christine threw the blanket off of her and she rose to stand before him. "How could she not know? What kind of woman is she, Erik, to have had so many men that she can't recall which one made her pregnant?"

He stood up, his voice level, yet commanding once more. "It wasn't like that."

Sensing his tension, Christine reluctantly backed down. She sighed lightly. "How long were you in here?"

"Elita has been gone for a few hours already. I took a walk after she'd gone, trying to clear my mind."

Carefully, Christine reached forward into the dark towards the large shape that was Erik. "And now? Is your mind clear?"

His hand closed over hers, and he drew her in closer to him. His arms twined around her waist, molding their bodies together in the night. Christine sighed and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her heart aching for him and dreading whatever choice he would make.

Erik tugged on a lock of her hair. "My mind is as cluttered as it always has been. I was happy before Elita came to see me, when it was just you and I, and my only concern was how I could convince you to come live with me."

Christine pulled back. "You would have asked me to live with you?"

"After I formally abdicated to Kumar, yes."

Dread formed a stone in the pit of her stomach. "And now?"

Erik was silent for a time. "Christine. The child could be mine. Elita isn't sure, and she was afraid to tell me. She said that she wanted to tell me face to face. I haven't been back in France since the last night we spent together. The child could be mine, " he repeated. "If it is mine, I have a responsibility to that child that will come before everything. Do you understand?"

Christine nodded, afraid to speak for her tears.

He took a ragged breath and seemed suddenly filled with restless energy. In the dark, he began to pace the length of the room. "I am not my father, I'm nothing like him. I will not father a child and then ignore the fact- this isn't what I wanted, Christine, but if the child is mine-"

"I know what you'll have to do, Erik. I understand."

It was unspoken, the Shaliman custom hung in the air between them- Erik would propose to marry the mother of his first child to make the birth legitimate, regardless of his feelings toward the woman. It was a matter of honor and responsibility; as a result of carelessness by a corrupt, selfish man, Erik understood the importance of a father in a child's life better than most.

He had spent most of his life in Shalimar, its customs were a part of Erik now, however Christine doubted that his choice would be any different if he was not king.

Erik's honor as a man was at stake; he had spent his life trying to prove that he was a better man than his father, now that he was faced with the same situation that had burdened Bhaskar nearly thirty years before, Erik could not allow himself to fail.

He sighed against the side of her neck, unintentionally sending a shiver of arousal down her spine. "I didn't want this," he said again, almost as if to himself. "There is only one month left. I would have requested a paternity test, but...Christine, Elita has been through enough. In any case, we'll know once the child is born, whether it is mine or not."

Christine held him close. "And what is to happen until then, Erik?"

He stepped back from her then, his hands on her narrow shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "If this child is mine, I must be there for her."

* * *

So it was, Christine relented to Erik's decision. What could she do? Demand that he ignore what could be his child? No. Christine knew that she could not ask Erik to do such a thing, and she knew that he would never do anything so cowardly. Erik was not his father. 

Christine knew he was not asleep.

Erik was breathing deeply, but Christine could see his fingers drumming lightly over his stomach. He was staring up to the ceiling, no doubt his thoughts were filled with visions of a child that could be his, and the new life he would be obligated to begin with Elita. Christine felt a tear slip down her cheek as her chest clenched at the thought of him marrying the woman.

She had been so sure that they would begin a life together, the life they were meant to have, where she could fulfill Erik's every longing and he would finally turn to her and say that she was loved. It hurt too much to picture that life now, it was a future that might never happen. Carefully, Christine shifted her weight. If she got up and went back to her own room, would Erik try to stop her? Would he even notice?

She cleared her throat. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"What does Elita want from you?" She asked.

There was a silence, but finally Erik turned on to his side to face her. In turning, she could not see his eyes behind the mask, though she could feel his gaze on her. His hand reached forward, Christine closed her eyes at the feel of his fingertips on the curve of her cheek. "She explained things to me. If this child is mine, she will want me involved. Even if she didn't want my involvement, I would have forced my way; if it's mine, I can't abandon the baby."

Christine began to stroke his arm. "I know you wouldn't, Erik. How did this happen?"

He sighed. "I'd been able to come back to France for just a few days, just after finishing a peace treaty...we spent most of those days together, without leaving my loft." Erik explained delicately. "The timing is right. It might be my baby."

The truth hurt. Christine let out a breath. "You said she wasn't sure."

He brought her closer. "Yes. Three weeks after I'd gone back to Shalimar, there was a party. Elita and a friend took in more wine that was wise, and ended up back at his apartment."

"Weren't you...careful?" Christine asked.

Erik hesitated. "For the most part, yes. It was just that last time...her friend hadn't fared much better on their night together. I have no excuse, I should have resisted or just been more careful. If this baby is mine, I do intend to take every responsibility." He finished.

Christine didn't have to ask what he meant by that.

"We will be there for the birth, David and I," Erik said, meaning the other man in question. "We will know at first viewing who the father is. You know I am obligated to ask Elita to be my wife, though I doubt she would accept me."

"Why?"

"I told her about you, Christine. She could already tell when you walked in earlier tonight that you were my lover."

It was stupid, but Christine found hersel wishing that he would call her _my love_, as he had in the past.

"Elita has no wish to ruin what's been built between us, Christine. She wants me to be happy, but for the sake of the child I must..."

Christine nodded and moved to kiss him, only just brushing his lips with her own. "I understand."

"This child-"

"I said I understand, Erik." Christine repeated firmly. She kissed him again when he tried to speak, harder this time, drowning out all thought of responsibility, obligation and dread.

There was only Christine now, only Christine in his bed and his life. Erik brought his hands to cup her face, holding her still so that he could take control. There was a new, powerful urge welling up from deep within, the desire to dominate her completely, to burn himself into her body and memory.

Their first time together had been gentle, but the need for tenderness was fading in the heat of his desperation. Erik kissed her harder, harder, taking her wrists and pinning them down to the bed on either side of her head. He came over her like a lion, losing his mind in the need to take her. Christine sensed the change in him, the anger, the frustration and the need for release; she put up no resistence when his hand moved to her breasts, kneading them firmly and then dipping his head to taste and even bite at her.

This was a different Erik than the man she had known the night before.

Christine was growing heated at his touch, it was her only desire to please him, to ease his burdens even if only for a short time. Erik growled against her throat, and moved himself between her legs. He plunged his body into hers, relishing the heat of her body around his own. The breath caught in her throat, and it felt to her that there was a heavy weight bearing down on her, but Christine would not groan her pain for anything.

Erik began to move against her then, without a word. It was slow at first, and despite it all Christine could feel the fire rising up within her own body as Erik began to move faster and harder against her. His body roared with power, driving her higher and harder against the bed, breathing her scent, drowning in her very being.

It was over quickly, and ended with the both of them panting hard like animals, still shuddering with harsh pleasure.

After a time, Erik lifted his head and touched her kiss-bruised lips with his own. He gathered her against him and said, very softly, "Whatever happens, Christine, you are _mine."_

Christine did not argue, for she knew it was true.


	22. Trouble

**Author's Note: Wow, I made everyone hate Erik's guts! What a mess of things I've made! I thought that the story would be boring if it was all fluffy fun, so I threw a "monkey wrench" into the works and made everyone mad. Well. Characters need flaws and the strength to overcome them- which both Erik and Christine will do in the next few chapters. So, on with the show- read, review and most of all enjoy!**

* * *

**8 Months Earlier**

Erik reviewed the contents of his single suitcase.

It contained his clothes, naturally, and the essentials of his shaving kit, but very few items of any sentimental value. Much like his home. He looked about his bedroom. It was very clean, very organized. Perhaps too organized to be entirely comfortable. He was reminded of the countless hotels he'd stayed in over the years, all of them just as impersonal and empty.

The floors had been vacuumed, the walls were bare and the bed had been made.

Erik's lips quirked into a small smile.

For three days, the bed had been anything but the neat, empty vessel before him now. Elita had come into his life and his loft, and though she had left him earlier that morning, her body was still firmly imprinted in his mind. Her nails had scored his back just the night before, the marks were likely to fade in a few days, though Elita would not fade from his thoughts so quickly.

He wanted her, true, and she was of a mind similar to his own. Erik had often thought, as he'd watched her sleep, that she could be the wife he'd been looking for. She would not question him, she would be obedient and loyal to him, so long as he never burdened her with his own demands.

He had enough wealth to tempt her into marriage, she was intelligent and very alluring. Erik thought that perhaps in time they could become deeper than two simple people who enjoyed going to bed together.

He shook his head at the thought and zipped the edges of his case.

_Foolish. You think of taking Elita as a wife when you are still a slave to all of Shalimar. Have you forgotten that you are still king? That the people need you? It was lucky that you had the time to see Elita, but do not become attached- it may be more than a year before you are able to see her, or France again!_

Erik knew his wandering thoughts were foolish, but there were times when he could not help himself. Kumar was learning quickly and gaining favor with the people. It could be a year, maybe two, before Kumar would take his rightful place as king, leaving Erik free to pursue the life he'd dreamed of for so long in France.

His sole desire was simple: a life that was his own. A life free of the pressures of politics and royal intrigue. He wanted a wife; a woman of good health and character. Erik knew that he would be lucky if he ever found a woman who would consent to be his wife, he knew that he could make no demands of any woman; theirs would be a marriage, yes, but without the strings of the common unions. Erik's only condition that the woman, whoever she came to be, show love to the children they might have.

And children! He longed for children, a son to play with, a daughter to protect...

_Kumar is learning. I will have my life back someday..._

Erik lifted his case off the bed and closed the door behind himself as he crossed the landing toward the stairs. The guest room door was open. Erik stepped in for a moment, just to be sure he hadn't left anything behind. Foolish again, he knew, as he usually ignored the spare room in favor of the master suite, but this was his home, and he was free to go where he liked. Stepping over to the window, Erik took in the unfamiliar view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance and the busy street directly below. He sighed quietly at the sight of a woman holding the hand of a little girl while they passed by.

The family he hoped for always seemed an impossible dream.

In turning back to the door, he caught sight of the four small photographs that had been framed and hung on the wall above the guest bed. It had not been him, but Lisette who had gone through his small collection of personal effects, found the photographs and had them put up.

"You need to make this apartment more of a home, Erik. It needs a woman's touch." She had told him as she'd sipped her wine beside the fireplace.

Something about the comment had irritated him, as if she had crossed some boundary. Erik had responded by pulling her to sit astride his lap. _"I'm_ the one in need of your touch." He'd growled against her deep cinnamon throat, moments before taking her on the sofa.

That had been over three years ago.

Erik shrugged to himself. Lisette had since married and had twin daughters, "two bundles of trouble," she had told him- he'd spoken to her only briefly but he was glad to know that she had never been more happy.

He took a moment to study each photograph. All of them presented the image of the Shaliman gardens, the secret places where Christine would meet with him out of sight to the eyes of the palace- both against custom and the wishes of her parents. Erik had not thought of the girl in months, but the sight of the fountain where they had met so often brought back the memories and the familiar longing for his young friend.

_Will I ever see her again? I have not spoken to her or her father in years, not even so much as a clue to what she has been doing since leaving Shalimar for America. I wonder...is she happy? Does she even think of me?_

Erik had pushed thoughts of the girl away as his attention went to the door. Someone was insistently knocking, demanding to be let inside. He gritted his teeth in irritation. He was a king, who dared to pound his door in such a way?

Almost angry by the time he reached the door, Erik wrenched it open, only to have Elita leap forward, into his arms.

What followed had been a mad, desperate tangle of limps and lips. She had pressed herself against him, gasping her happiness at his thrilled reaction. There had been no thought of consequence, only desire, only passion.

He had her against the wall, a first for the both of them.

Erik had been dazed, so stunned by their passion that he had hardly taken notice as she'd parted herself from him. Elita had been silent as she'd dressed herself. Not a word had passed between them as Erik stood, panting, watching as she covered her body from his eyes. Her delicate blue panties and bra. Her blouse. Her skirt. Finally, her stockings and shoes.

She'd smiled at him once she was fully dressed once more, and came forward into his arms. They breathed for a time, simply listening to their slowing pulses.

There was a delicate knock at the door. The Shaliman bodyguards, on time as always.

Without a word, Elita kissed Erik once on the lips and then once on the cold cheek of his mask.

She had slipped out the door before Erik had been able to tell her goodbye.

* * *

Erik cursed himself endlessly, loathing his own stupidity, his own weakness. It had been his own damn fault that Elita was back now, heavy with what could be his child. His mind was swimming with the consequences; he had shown weakness and now it would be Christine who paid the price. 

_I've ruined everything_, he thought miserably. Nevermind that the child might be David's, nevermind that Elita would reject him when he was forced by custom to propose...if the child was his, what would come of what he and Christine had just begun to share?

Would she remain with him, knowing that he'd fathered a child by another woman? Knowing that he could never fully be hers, when his heart would be devoted to the son or daughter that may have resulted from a past affair? Christine was wonderful, but she was young, she had a whole life ahead of her- would she be willing to tie herself down to both him and a child?

Erik didn't know. Christine wanted him, she was devoted to him. She had said that she'd _chosen_ him- her heart, her soul, was his now. He shifted in the bed, careful not to disturb her. Erik held no delusions; she had given everything of herself to him. Her love, her trust, her virginity. He had given her nothing. Empty words of caring for her, he couldn't even return her love.

_I do love her, in my way...I've never cared for a woman the way I care for her. She deserves better than this, better than anything I can offer._

Unable to stop himself, Erik reached forward and stroked her hair. Christine did not stir. He glanced at the clock; no wonder she hadn't stirred at his touch, it was nearing four in the morning.

_She will not wake, it is too dark for her to see me...why not?_

Wondering if he was mad, and dreading the thought that this might be his last chance, Erik lifted his mask away from his face. He remained still for a moment, enjoying the air on his face, before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers for just a moment. Christine didn't move.

He stared down to her, her face breaking something within him.

Overcome, Erik pressed his scarred cheek against hers, wishing suddenly that she would wake up and take him into her arms. He wanted her comfort, some reassurance that she would not hate him if the child came to be his. If she left him, Erik would understand; it was her hatred he couldn't live with.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "I'm sorry for everything."

Suddenly restless, Erik removed himself from the bed, wracking his brain for a way to fix things with Christine. She had been passive so far but Erik sensed her anger; he deserved all of it. He expected her to rage at him soon, Erik craved her fury. He wondered if he hadn't been king for so long that he had grown accustomed to women agreeing to his whims, and now karma was sending punishment to him.

He began to pace the living room, hating the ridiculous boundaries he'd established between him and every woman he'd known during the past decade and change: he would not remove his clothes or mask, he could offer no woman any form of commitment, he would never make love in the light for fear of being seen- fear is what it call came down to.

_I am the world's greatest coward, and in the end I am no better than Bhaskar..._

* * *

Christine awoke alone in Erik's bed, and she wasn't surprised. She assumed that the man had plenty enough on his mind, what with the upcoming abdication of his kingship to Kumar, the life he wanted to build in France and now with a possible child...Christine didn't know if she would handle the stress half so well as he was. 

Still, she was unhappy, and if she was honest with herself, entirely angry with him.

Christine sighed and crossed the room, headed toward the shower. She stepped inside to greet the hot water and wondered what she was going to do.

_Should I just go home?_ _Erik is distracted and he doesn't need me here to make things even_ _more difficult_..._but then, why should I make things easier?_ She thought suddenly. She gripped the bottle of shampoo and squirted a large amount into her hand. As she washed her hair, Christine became angrier and angrier the longer she thought about her situation.

_Who does Erik think he is, to have just walked back into my life and take everything over? He wanted me to go to France with him, so I did. We came here, and all this time...I do love you, Erik, but you haven't said you love me...do I deserve this? He's already pushing me aside. 'I need to be there for her'- if you hadn't been there for Elita in the first place this never would have happened, Erik!_

Christine rinsed her hair and stepped out of the shower, then crossed to the guest room and chose an outfit to wear for the day. Her temper was still brimming, but she had calmed down enough to know that she didn't want to get into a fight with Erik first thing in the morning.

_I'd rather have_ _breakfast and then start screaming at him_, she thought with a small smile. Christine secured the necklace he'd gifted her with about her throat and descended the stairs. She saw that Erik was on the sofa, his back to her. Hearing his deep breathing, she quietly came around to face him.

No emotion betrayed itself on Christine's face as she looked at him, unmasked for the first time. Deep burn scars covered much of his face, leaving only his mouth and throat somewhat intact. She knew he had no problems with his vision, for which she was grateful, but the skin surrounding Erik's eyes was just as deeply scarred as the rest of him.

She stared at him for several long minutes, absorbing the sight of him with greedy truth-starved eyes.

Part of his scalp had been burned, and so his hairline began further back; his face was not as bad as his hands had been, but all the same he looked terrible. The majority of his face was a canvas of burn scars, and smaller patches of slightly shiny skin she assumed had come from grafts.

_So this is Erik_, she thought.

She wanted to move forward and wake him, to prove that the scars he'd hidden for years meant nothing to her. Christine felt her heart swell. The scars meant nothing. This was still Erik, the only man she'd ever loved. It wasn't the scars that bothered her, but the thought that she was not the only woman that loved and wanted him for herself. Erik was naive if he thought that he, a king, could ask a woman to marry him and that she would refuse. Was he a complete fool? Elita had probably gotten herself pregnant with his child on purpose, hoping to cash in on hefty child support checks, Christine thought bitterly.

Erik's scars meant nothing, and Christine knew it was ridiculous to be angry about something that Erik had done in the past, but she felt her heart break with fury at the thought that he had made love to another woman, possibly planted the seed that rightfully belonged in _her_ womb after they were married. She wanted to give in to her cruel side, to make life another hell for Erik as punishment for daring to make love to another...but what could she do? Wake him and attack him for something that had happened months ago, before they'd even begun to speak again?

Christine shook her head. _No, I can't do that. God, I've got to get out of here..._

She debated with herself for a moment before returning to the guest room and took out her Palm Pilot, and quickly typed a message to Belinda.

**'I need to talk to you ASAP. What's your schedule?'**

Christine paced her room, waiting for a reply, and tried not to look too closely at the photographs of the Shaliman gardens. She didn't need any reminders of the past she and Erik had shared.

Belinda still hadn't replied and Christine felt herself going stir crazy in the room, when she heard quick movements from downstairs. Erik had woken up, apparently, and panicked when he realized that he'd left his mask upstairs in the bedroom. Christine rolled her eyes as she imagined the terror he must be feeling, as if his face was so horribly deformed she'd faint at the sight of it! Did he hate himself so much that he thought he could close everyone out by covering himself at all times?

She stepped out of her room and listened to Erik move about his bedroom, and she sighed, suddenly so angry and hurt and desperate to be away from him.

Christine needed air and she didn't know if she could stand the sight of Erik so soon again after the night before, so she slipped out the front door and into the great city of Paris.


	23. Glimpses

Belinda tilted her head back slightly, just enough that she could feel more of the crisp sun's warmth on her cheeks. A fine contrast to the brisk air that blew through her short locks as she waited for her younger cousin. The photoshoot was just assembling and years of experience told her that it would be at least another hour, maybe two, until everything was ready.

Creating perfection was never simple.

She loved France, it was a beautiful country, and she had been happy to find that all rumors of rudeness from the natives were false- but then again, she was a top model, and was rarely treated with indifference. Perks of the job, she had always told herself. She didn't care to linger on daydreams; there was something happening, some shift, and Belinda was anxious to find out what change had occurred.

What was wrong with Christine? Her cousin's message had seemed urgent- Erik couldn't have proposed already, could he? Belinda shrugged to herself. Christine would not be the first of her friends to marry so young, but the message had been too short, too direct to be good news.

_I hope everything's all right with her_, Belinda thought to herself as she watched the crew begin to assemble the camera equipment. Other models were either laughing with their makeup artists or reading- thankfully, the rumors of models being little more than spoiled, brainless women were false as well. Belinda would be joking right along with them if not for her cousin.

Though Christine had proved herself incredibly adaptable and more than capable of taking care of herself, Belinda still felt protective over her younger cousin. They had been thick as thieves for years, Belinda couldn't have asked for a better friend or even a sister. They were family, and Belinda felt responsible to look over her.

She turned her attention from the technicians to the fountains that were so integral to the photoshoot; they were beautiful, gilded statues and stone, but Belinda found it difficult to concentrate when her cousin had her growing more worried by the minute. Christine was already ten minutes late which was out of character for her in itself, but they were both foreigners in Paris.

_God, I hope she didn't get lost!_

Belinda drummed her fingers over her knee, idly glancing to the wardrobe area where the gowns for the shoot were stored. Beautiful gowns they were, too. Belinda found her thoughts wandering to the possibility of keeping one as her fee. She shook the thought away.

_Let's not get ahead of ourselves- money will be more useful than another dress in the long run._

Belinda reminded herself to check her stocks and call her accountant once the shoot was through. She could afford to buy one of the gowns anyway, so it would be foolish to take a dress over a check. She doubted if the agency would appreciate her doing that anyway. She huffed a breath, growing irritated, and took out her Palm Pilot. Her fingers worked quickly, tapping out a message to Christine.

"No need to have cursed, Belinda, I wasn't that late." Christine called to her, five minutes later.

Belinda ran to her cousin, hugging her fiercely. "Don't keep me waiting like that again, I was afraid that you'd gotten lost!"

She stopped, taking in Christine's appearance. The chic clothing couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes. Belinda put her hands on Christine's shoulders. "What happened?"

Seeing no reason to lie, Christine led Belinda a bit farther from earshot of the photography crew, to another bench. The girls sat down and Christine slowly explained her situation. She took a deep breath once it was done, and found that she felt better after having let out some of the anger she'd been keeping since the day before when it had all fell apart.

Belinda didn't know what to say, for once there was no barb on the end of her tongue. What could she say to someone who loved a man that may be forced to propose to another woman? Belinda didn't understand enough of Shaliman culture to know realize the delicate position Erik was in. As king, he had responsibilities that went beyond himself, to the people. His emotions could not be taken into account over his duty to Shalimar.

Christine abruptly stood and turned to Belinda. "I need more time to myself to think everything through. Thank you for listening, Belinda. It's all I needed, really."

Before Belinda could stop her, Christine turned and walked off, leaving her more than just a little confused.

* * *

Erik paced the length of the living room, the telephone held firmly to his ear. Kumar's voice on the other end had been listening intently for the past few minutes. 

"If she loves you, she may stay. If not, forget about her and marry another. Surely you have another mistress?" Kumar asked.

He shook his head, smiling at his half-brother's foolish ideas. "No, I do not. One affair a year does not make me some sort of Casanova, with teams of women at my beck and call. I can't even think of another woman right now. I only want Christine. She-"

"Enough, brother, you're beginning to sound like one of your own French poets. If the child is yours, marry the mother and keep Christine as a mistress."

Erik shook his head. "Never. I told you, I'm not going to carry on the way our father did. Perhaps when you meet a woman worth marrying you'll understand. Christine deserves better than that."

"Yes, yes, you have become a poet yourself. What can I say when it is unclear the child is yours? Wait and see, then decide." Kumar reasoned.

"And make Christine stay with me until the child is born? She will grow to hate me...if she doesn't already."

On the other end of the line, Kumar cleared his throat. "The send her away. If the child is yours, she will know by news of your marriage; if not, you will be free to find her again. The choice is yours."

Erik nodded, feeling like an idiot for having called on Kumar for advice in the first place. This was his problem, and Erik knew he had to resolve it on his own. "Thank you, brother. Goodbye."

Erik put a hand to his temple and sighed.

* * *

Hours later, and Christine still hadn't returned. Erik paced the loft, anxiety building tension in his shoulders and neck, dread forming a pit in his stomach. He was familiar with stress. After years of serving as a king, how could he not? Sleepless nights and missed meals were not new to him- still, Erik supposed he'd grown spoiled in the past few weeks. He'd let himself forget that he was still held under the strict moral code of Shalimar. 

He asked himself again and again, why he had thought he'd be free to move in both worlds. To uphold the customs of Shalimar and pursue his brief affairs in France- Erik saw now that he was a fool to have thought he could be two men at once, both a king and a lover.

The two cultures of his heritage were completely at odds with each other.

How could he have thought to play by two sets of rules? By doing so, Erik had lost everything. Elita was successful and independent, but she was afraid. Birthing and raising a child was not for the faint of heart. And Christine? Erik had heard the anger in her voice, seen the condemnation in her eyes. What had been simple between them was now complicated.

_I've destroyed it all now_, Erik thought angrily. _What can I do?_

For one of the first times, Erik didn't know how to fix the problems surrounding him. He felt horribly useless, which in turn only fueled his anger.

The front door opened and he turned away from the window to see Christine stride into the living room.

Her eyes caught his and she moved toward him. On instinct, Erik reached for her, and relief swept over him as she moved into the circle of his arms. Erik held her for long moments, terrified of the love he could feel spreading through his body. It was alien, wholly unfamiliar to him. But, this new feeling was...warm, and not unwelcome.

Christine pulled back from him, and Erik felt his heart dip at the sight of tears. "Christine?"

She turned away to swipe the tears away from her cheeks, not allowing him to do so, and then took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm leaving, Erik. I'm going back home."


	24. Separate Ways

Erik stared back at her, his arms still circling her waist. His throat felt constricted; on reflex, his hold on her tightened.

Christine took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over his chest. "Please let me explain. Erik, I can't stay here anymore. I don't think I should have come to Paris with you in the first place."

Erik shook his head; he gave a small, defeated laugh. "This hasn't gone at all the way I would have had it."

Joining his laughter through her tears, Christine leaned in and let Erik hold her for a moment. "I know, I mean, everything was fine until-"

"I'm sorry-"

Christine pulled back from him. "No, Erik, you can't apologize for something that happened months ago. You don't owe me any apologies, so don't bother. You being with Elita back then has nothing to do with me. It's just...Erik, I love you."

He reached for her hands again, feeling something breaking within himself. "I know, Christine and I-"

"No, you don't know!" She exclaimed, suddenly pulling from him. "You don't know anything, Erik. You think I've fallen in love with you just because of these past few days we've spent together? Just because of the sex? If you think that, then you're wrong. I've loved you for years, since before I had to leave Shalimar."

Erik started. "What? You loved me then?"

Laughing almost hysterically, Christine nodded. "Oh, yes. I am the queen of idiots. I dreamed about you at night, wondering what it would be like if you would take me to Paris, marry me, come into my room and make love to me-"

Erik bristled, memories of the old accusations flaring within his mind and fueling a desperate sort of anger, a welcome distraction from her departure. "No! I never would have done that, you were just a child."

"I knew you thought of me as a child, Erik. I tried to make myself look more grown up around you but you never noticed, you never said anything, not even when we were alone in the gardens." Christine said. She felt that a weight was lifting from her chest at confessing the desires of her younger self, she couldn't stop revealing those long buried secrets now.

Erik shook his head, taking a step back. "I won't apologize for that! I adored you as my friend, Christine, but you were too young to even think of in that way."

Christine nodded, feeling a strange sort of relief to finally speak of their past. "Do you remember our last day together in Shalimar?"

Shamed, Erik nodded. "Yes."

"I ran from you because I was angry that you hadn't kissed me the way you would kiss another woman. You kissed me on the cheek when I wanted you to take me to your room that night, to take me as your lover, to keep me in Shalimar with you." Christine said, replaying the scene in her mind, remembering how embarassed and upset she had been.

Erik shook his head. He wanted to touch her, to hold her again but he held himself back from giving in to the urge. "Stop it, Christine. Why are you telling me this? I never would have done that. My father even offered to somehow convince Gabriel give you to me but I refused him."

Christine looked up. "He did? I didn't know that. Why?"

A painful throbbing was beginning to pulse in Erik's temples. He didn't want to discuss his father or the suspicion that had tainted their friendship in Shalimar. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you want me?"

Her question was direct and innocent; she genuinely wanted to know what had stopped him from wanting her as he had wanted other women. It was too late to change anything, but Christine was determined to find the answers to the questions that had plagued her in the years since she had left Erik for America with her family.

Nothing Erik said would make a difference to what would happen between them now, but she would find solace in the truth of his words.

Erik began to shift his weight; uncomfortable under her questioning and frustrated with the world. He raked his fingers through his hair. "This again. Because you were too young, Christine. I wanted you as my friend, not as a child-lover."

"You could have insisted that I stay in Shalimar with you, and then taken me when I was older." She pressed.

"Bhaskar suggested that. Keep you with me until you grew up, until you were of age to take to bed? I didn't want to use you in that way. I still don't. I want..." Erik hesitated, then shook his head. "Please, forget about Shalimar, Christine. It is too late to think of such things."

In a gesture of acceptance, Christine bowed her head for a moment. "You are right. I only wanted you to know that I've loved you since then, and that I still love you. But I can't wait here with you for another month until the birth of this child, Erik. What if it is yours? I won't sit by and watch while you propose to Elita, Erik. I can't. You think she will refuse the proposal of a king? You have to ask her to be your wife, Erik, and if she accepts, I can't live with myself by being your whore."

Erik 's eyes snapped fire and he reached out to grasp her shoulders. "You're nothing of the sort, Christine! I've gone about this all wrong, hell, maybe I should have just ignored Gabriel's letter and stayed out of your life but I couldn't do it. I had to see you again. I admit I wanted you from the first time I saw you in New York, and once we were alone together in Paris I wanted you even more; yes, I thought to take you my lover, and then I wanted nothing but to make you my wife. I've never...I think I love you, Christine."

His words speared through her heart, but ultimately Erik's feelings could not change their situation. If the child was his, he had to propose to Elita and Christine could not bring herself to think the other woman would refuse him. Elita would accept his proposal; she would be Erik's wife. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Erik cupped her face, his bare hands alternately rough and soft against her cheeks.

Crying, Christine lifed her hands to his mask, trying to lift it away. Erik stepped back from her. "No, Christine-"

"Let me see you, Erik."

He felt powerless to stop her if she came at him again, and though he didn't want her to see him, Erik thought it might somehow make their separation easier if she were visibly repulsed by his face. He hung his head. "Why do you want to see me now?"

"So I can prove to you that it doesn't matter to me." Christine hesitated. "I saw you this morning, Erik. You hold no secrets from me now. _Raise your mask_."

Stunned, Erik felt his hands lift in obedience to her soft command, and he lifted his mask to the bright light of the loft. He held Christine's eyes, desperate for a sign of disgust- the only time in his life he'd ever hoped to see such a reaction. He saw none.

_She accepts me, she does not hate me. She loves me and she is leaving..._

Christine moved forward then, and kissed him. It was a soft, despairing kiss. Erik held her against his chest, allowing himself to revel for a moment in the fact that he had never kissed a woman bare-faced before. Christine was remarkable in every way. And she was leaving. The whispered declaration was out before Erik could stop himself. "I love you, Christine."

"I love you too, Erik...but if you marry Elita, I can't see you again."

* * *

So it was, Erik assisted Christine as she packed her things. She folded her clothes and placed them within her suitcase, and Erik carried it downstairs to set it beside the front door. Their pain hung in the air, driving them farther apart with its silence. It had grown dark outside. Christine could see the Eiffel Tower lit up through the windows, but its beauty was lost on her now. Resigned, Christine followed Erik into the kitchen. 

They had reached an understanding of sorts; if the child came to be his and Elita chose to accept Erik's obligatory proposal, Christine did not wish to see him again. It would pain her too greatly to be informed of his nuptuals in person; she instead resigned herself to the possibility of learning of the marriage through the international news. She would be upset at the potential annoucement, naturally, due to its finality, but Christine knew that she could somehow find the strength to move on.

Still...

If the child was not Erik's, Christine was sure she would die of relief. Erik had finally said the words she'd been longing to hear, but his declaration was bittersweet. What good were his words if he was powerless to act on them? More than anything, Christine wanted Erik to come for her, to find her and then take her back to France to be the wife he'd dreamed of. Perhaps she was being selfish, but Christine didn't care.

She had loved Erik for years. After so long, didn't Christine deserve her chance at love?

_This is for the best_, she thought to herself as she watched Erik pour her a glass of wine. _I can't stay here, allowing my love for him to grow, only to have it taken away in a few weeks time. I know you love me, Erik, but you have your honor- you will propose to Elita if the child is yours, and I know she will accept. You will be married to her, the civil wife you've always wanted. I can't stand by and watch that. If you love me, you will let me go. If you are free, then you will find me again._

Erik handed the glass to her, his bare face turned away as he did so. Christine took the glass. She wanted to be close to him, for him to hold her and kiss her, but she resisted the urge to go to him. It would only make their separation harder.

Christine sipped the wine. "What will you do once I'm gone?" She asked him. Her voice was hushed slightly, calm.

The kitchen was dimly lit. Low light filtered down to them from the single source in the ceiling above, washing them both with warm shades of amber. Christine glanced to her left at the copper ladel on the counter; it, too, subtly reflected the light from above.

Erik drummed his fingertips on the counter. "I don't know. I'd rather not say." He said, thinking of the despair that was clawed at his heart, even now as she was before him and yet completely beyond his reach. "Elita wishes to spend some time with me, to discuss arrangements if the baby comes to be mine."

Christine thought of something then, and felt a sudden shame for dismissing the child that was at the center of their situation. She admitted her own selfishness, but she was not so far gone that she would demand what she merely wanted over what a child ultimately needed. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"What will you do, if the baby is yours?"

He turned to face her then, their eyes finally meeting.

Erik knew what she meant; it was not something they had yet addressed. His lips quirked slightly, allowing his thoughts to wander toward the possibility of fatherhood. "Well. This is not how I would have had it happen, but if the child- the little girl- is mine, I will cherish her, protect her. She will never doubt my love and she will never want for anything."

Listening to Erik speak of what could very well be his daughter, Christine felt her heart constrict with a deeper love; so deep she was pained. He loved the baby already, Christine could hear it in his voice. She closed her eyes as she sipped the wine, swallowing away her hurt.

Erik saw this, and came closer to her. Despite all the warnings sounding off in his mind, Erik ignored them and reached to cup her face, turning her eyes to his. "Christine. If I could change what happened between Elita and I-"

Christine shook her head. "No, Erik. Don't start that again. It's pointless to talk about changing the past. I understand. You and Elita were lovers for a short time, and a baby may have resulted from that. Don't be ashamed of what you've done. If you marry Elita, you may find the contmentment you said you'd wanted. She will be a good wife to you, and a good mother to your daughter."

Erik nodded. "Yes. I could learn to be content, but I would never happy in marriage to Elita. Not now, not after what's passed between us." He said, grasping her hands and pressing them to his chest, just over his steady heart.

Christine felt the threat of tears again and she turned away, blinking rapidly and taking her hands from his. "Please, Erik. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Tell me more about the baby. A girl. When did you learn the sex?"

He hesitated. "Elita called me while you were out today, just to share a few details. We didn't speak of anything that would happen between us after the birth, the baby is what is important now."

Christine nodded. "I know." She glanced at the clock. "It's late, Erik, and my flight leaves early tomorrow morning. I'm going to bed."

Erik reached for her, but Christine turned her back on him and faded into the darkness of his loft.

* * *

The irritating glare of sunlight fell upon Erik's eyes, bringing forth a groan as he turned his face away. The king yawned as awareness slowly crept into his mind, freeing him from sleep. He opened his eyes and looked around his room. The curtains were drawn on most of the windows, allowing that sole slash of light to break into the darkness. 

Erik reached to his nightstand as the memories from the day before returned to him in a rush. Turning the alarm clock toward him, Erik bit out a harsh curse.

It was nearly midday!

_How the hell did that happen? I set the alarm last night, I remember doing it!_ His thoughts were an angry, confused jumble as he bolted from his bed and slipped a mask over his face. Quickly, Erik pulled on a sweater and a pair of trousers and strode into the hallway.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Erik knew it could very well be for the best if he and Christine were to separate for a time.

He knocked on the door to the guestroom, calling her name.

Silence was the only response.

Dread formed a knot in his stomach. Erik opened the door slowly, somehow already knowing what it was that he would find.

The room was empty. Christine had gone.


	25. Distance

**6 Days Later**

Christine stared out the window of the apartment she'd shared with Belinda for the past year. Nothing had changed in New York since she'd left for Paris with Erik. Nothing had changed, not really. The view was the same, and the weather had not grown much colder. She took a sip from her paper Starbucks cup, and wondered at her feeling of aimlessness. Erik had tried to contact her several times, but she had not returned any of his messages or answered his e-mails. She didn't feel that she had the courage to speak with him so soon, not after she'd stolen herself away from him like a thief.

She had tried not to imagine his reaction to having found her gone, though she assumed he must be very angry with her. Erik had at least deserved the chance to say goodbye, and Christine had robbed him of it. She shook her head and turned away from the window; saying goodbye to him, to everything he'd come to mean to her, would have been very painful. Still, she regretted running away from him the way she had.

It was a coward's retreat to simply disappear in the morning.

Christine shrugged to herself. _What's done is done. Soon Erik may very well be married and raising the baby in France, just like he's always wanted. He'll learn to be happy, and I want more than anything for Erik to be happy. After everything, he deserves it._

The sting of tears pricked her eyes, but Christine swallowed and cleared her throat, turning her thoughts away from Erik. There were other things to think of. She had a meeting with her agency in the morning, to learn of her next assignment. She would have dinner with Kalila later on in the week, there was shopping that needed to be done both for the apartment and for her wardrobe. She also had to assist her stepmother in settling Gabriel's assets and most importantly, Belinda would be back in New York soon.

Christine was looking forward to seeing her cousin; she felt in desperate need of someone to talk to- Belinda had rarely ever steered her wrong in the past.

She cleared her throat once more and stepped into her bedroom. The day before she had cleaned the room top to bottom, the large closet and bathroom as well. A distraction tactic, she knew, but at least the space was better organized now. Christine flopped onto her bed and clicked on her iPod, losing herself in bad pop music.

An hour's time later found Christine still on her bed, still listening to music, but now making out a list of errands to take care of the next day, surrounded by new issues of her favorite magazines. Truly, she was bored, and had been for days since coming back home. Once she had regained herself from the brutal jet lag, one day had flowed into the next, a long blur of mindless shopping, chores, rented movies and trash TV.

Christine flipped through the latest issue of _Allure_, pausing only to look over an ad page for Maybelline cosmetics. Belinda looked back at her from the page, smiling, happy, and not at all concerned over smearing her bright lipstick. Amused, she turned the page, recognizing her cousin, herself, and several friends throughout the issue, all of them posing for some new trend in fashion.

She set the magazine aside once she heard the front door open over the noise of her iPod, and left her room.

Belinda had just closed and locked the door behind herself when Christine stepped into the living room to greet her. "Belinda, you're back early."

Setting her roller suitcase aside, the blonde looked up and smiled at her younger cousin. "I know, I left a little earlier than everyone else on the shoot- the sooner we talked face to face the better."

Christine felt her heart dip at the thought of going over and over the situation again. It's what she had done for days, and the last thing she wanted to do now. "You've crossed the world just so we could talk?"

Belinda shrugged. "Well, cousin, I sure as hell didn't come home early just to say hi!" She groused. Belinda took a glance at her watch. "I slept some on the plane and the jet lag won't catch up with me until a few hours. I refused the airline food, of course, so I haven't had anything to eat in hours but for some trail-mix I brought on board with me. Please, Christine, I've got to get some lunch."

* * *

The life of a model was difficult in many ways, but the compensations more than made up for the complaints- who could argue that? One of the perks happened to be slightly preferential treatment at high-end restaurants. Christine sighed in contentment as a plate of tuna rolls was placed before her, and she eagerly cracked apart her chopsticks. Belinda sat across from her at the low table, a plate of sashimi likewise before her. 

Sushi had been a shared first experience for the cousins perhaps three years ago when they had been invited out by their respective agents, a sort of double-date business dinner. Both of them had been infatuated with the cuisine from then on, though they were careful not to overindulge themselves.

Belinda took a sip of her green tea and shrewdly watched as Christine dipped a roll in a small bowl of soy sauce. "So, now that we're nice and settled you might as well tell me what happened."

Christine rolled her eyes. "I'm not even one bite into my fish and you want me to go over everything now?"

Belinda nodded. "Yes, from the top, if you please."

Her cousin glared. "It doesn't please me at all to speak of this, but I'll tell you anyway. I left Erik. It's as simple as that."

Belinda quirked a brow. "You just walked out? And he let you?"

Christine shrugged. "Maybe not quite that simple, but basically yes. I told Erik that I couldn't wait with him until Elita's baby was born and then have to sit by and watch him propose to her. If I love him now, imagine how hard it would be if things had to end months from now- it would kill me to watch him marry someone else! So...after I talked to you that last time in Paris, I decided that I needed to leave."

"And what did he say?"

Working past the building lump in her throat, Christine went on. "He...I think he understands, and he feels horribly guilty for what's happened. I told him I was leaving, and then I tried to sleep that night. I realized that it's an awful situation for everyone, but that I didn't want to force a choice on him. I didn't want Erik to feel like he would have to make a choice between me or the baby if she turned out to be his daughter. So I left. I left, I ran away. He was going to drive me to the airport in the morning, but I didn't think I would have the strength to leave him if he did..."

Belinda reached over to steal one of Christine's tuna rolls. "So what did you do?"

Groaning slightly, Christine confessed. "I snuck into his room that night, switched off his alarm clock, and kissed his cheek goodbye. Then I took my suitcase and caught a cab to the airport."

Eyes wide, Belinda nearly dropped her stolen roll. "You just took off? Was he angry?"

Feeling hopeless, Christine shrugged. She didn't have much of an appetite anymore. "Who knows? I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm...I'm going to dinner with Kalila later on this week. Then tomorrow I have a meeting and after that's done I have a few errands I need to run. I'm going to go on living until I hear one way or another if Erik is the father of that baby girl. If he is, he will propose to Elita- I have no doubt she will accept him."

"How do you know that?"

Christine sipped her sake. "Because every woman wants to be a queen. Because I think she may have become pregnant on purpose for Erik's wealth; he's made mistakes in his past but Erik has a loyal heart- Elita must have known that he would give her the world if he thought it would benefit their child. But if the baby turns out to be this other man's, this David's, then Erik said he would come for me once he'd abdicated to Kumar. We would be free to be together."

Belinda sighed. "That is a tough spot to be in if I've ever heard one! Not just for you, but for everyone involved. I think you made the right choice in leaving him; the distance will make it easier if...well, you know."

She knew what Belinda meant.

Christine nodded. "I know."

* * *

The next day's meeting at the modeling agency found Christine another high-profile assignment; ironically, _Burberry_ had begged for the services of Nicolas Fowler, who had in turn asked for Christine. She was, in his words, his new muse. 

"What a load of crap," Belinda groused on hearing the news. "He just wants to see you again."

They were in Christine's room, a warm pile of fresh laundry between them.

Christine shrugged as she folded a blouse and set it into her dresser drawer. Highly successful models they were, but they were humble enough to fold their own clothes. "So what if he does? Let him see me. We're a great team, Nick is probably one of the best photographers I've ever worked with."

Rolling her eyes, Belinda scoffed, "All that "muse" talk is a bunch of bullshit. He just wants to bang you."

Christine smiled at her cousin's blunt statement. "And that automatically makes him a bad person? You're just jealous because you didn't land the _Burberry_ assignment."

"Yeah, I'll have to settle for _YSL_, poor little me! I'll cry myself to sleep tonight. Don't let it all get to your head. This career doesn't go very far once you hit 30 and no one likes a has-been." Belinda reminded her.

Christine nodded and then hung up a pair of jeans from her pile. "I know that, I have plans but I don't intend to stop modeling any time soon. It's too much fun to give up just yet."

Belinda watched as Christine smoothed a wrinkle in a skirt before she hung it up in the closet. "You're handling things very well, considering you ran out on the love of your life just last week."

Christine paused for a moment, but then went back to sorting through the pile of laundry, searching for another of her blouses. "I...I'm really trying not to think about him. He stopped calling after the fifth day, anyway. Who knows? Maybe Elita's had the baby and they're married. If he is, then I wish him every happiness, him and the baby and the wife. But I don't want to see him again."

Belinda whistled. "That's cold."

"You've never loved a man, have you?" Christine asked, taking her off guard.

The blonde hesitated. "Well...I thought I was in love a few times, but those were high school boyfriends...no, I've never been in love. Not yet, anyway."

"I was, for years. I still am. For a few days I let Erik pull me into a fantasy, only to have it taken away." Christine explained, trying not to sound entirely bitter.

Belinda cleared her throat. "And Erik did all the pulling, did he? I suppose he bought all that _La Perla_ lingerie himself, and made you "accidentally" run into him that night, huh? He's a clever one, that Erik."

"All right! All right, fine, yes, I did put in an effort to seduce him. Why lie? I put more than just an effort- I threw myself at him, but made everything look innocent. I'm just as sneaky as any girl, I know, I know." Christine relented.

Belinda shook her head. "Don't act like being sneaky is something to be ashamed of, Christine. If no one played dirty then how would anyone ever get together? Guys have their ways of seducing, and we girls have ours. It's a tale as old as time. If you've got it, flaunt the hell out of it and see what happens!"

Christine couldn't help herself, she had to laugh. "Well, it was worth a chance. I had Erik for days, the way I'd always dreamed...now Elita will have him forever..."

"Oh, doom and gloom, you're bringing me down, Christine! It's only been a week, what makes you think Erik is married? Maybe he's just tired of you not returning his calls- after five days, I know I would be."

"What if he marries Elita?"

"So what if he does? I'm pretty sure divorce is legal in France and even if they get married and stay married, there's no reason for you to act like the world is falling apart around you." Belinda threw up her hands. "Are you not an in-demand, highly-paid model with a fantastic apartment, well-known, well-liked and respected in the industry and all over the city? Look in your closet! Designer clothes other girls would kill for. Look at your bank account! Enough money to see you retire at 25! Most importantly, look at your face in the mirror." Belinda took her arm and lead her into the bathroom, to the mirror above the counter. The blonde and brunette were a striking pair in the reflection.

Belinda pointed into the glass. "Are you not a beautiful, smart, wonderful girl?"

Christine looked away. Belinda took her chin and forced her to meet the eyes of her reflection. "Answer me, Christine!"

"I guess."

"Don't guess when you know the answer. You are a catch, a 10. Any man would be happy- lucky to have you for five minutes, let alone a lifetime. If Erik marries this Elita woman, then so be it. Let him be happy with his wife and baby, but I guarantee that he'll always remember you, and he'll always wonder what might have been."

Christine swiped at a tear that had escaped her eye. "Thank you, Belinda."

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, well, your welcome for this little 'girl power' moment, but think about what I said. I mean, would it really be so earth-shattering if Erik married that woman? You'd be sad, sure, but you'd survive it so please stop moping around, it's driving me crazy! If, on the other hand, Erik comes back to New York for you..."

Christine nodded, feeling slightly better but still not convinced. "Yes. Thank you Belinda."

"Maybe I'm not so bad, huh? Now come on, our clothes are going to wrinkle if we don't hurry up and fold everything."

Feeling somehow relieved at Belinda's words, Christine followed her back into the bedroom.

* * *

**2 Weeks Later**

Christine stepped out of the wardrobe area, and hoped that she looked all right in her chosen outfit. It had been a tumultuous few weeks since Belinda had given her the confidence boost she'd been needing, and Christine had decided that, for the time being, she would throw herself into her work rather than remain hung up on Erik.

He had given up calling, though she still received regular e-mails from him; one almost every day, though she still deleted them without reading them first.

It wasn't that she was angry with him, or determined to cut him from her life entirely...Christine simply wanted to put the distance between them so that, if the child was his and Elita trapped him into marriage, her pain would be dulled even if only slightly. She had run away from him. If Erik was free to be with her, Christine would leap at the chance for them to rebuild what they had- if not, she couldn't see him again. Her life would have to go on without him, as it had after their first separation, those years ago in Shalimar.

Christine had made peace with the possibility that she would be alone.

Belinda had noticed the changes in Christine's behavior and couldn't say she was disappointed- in her opinion Christine didn't need to be so caught up with a man anyway, especially one so complicated as Erik. As it was, the girl was acting like the typical young woman who'd been burned by a boyfriend, right down to the shopping sprees and new haircut.

Just the week before, Christine had run out and lopped off her trademark locks and emerged from the high-end salon with an edgy layered shag. Belinda loved it, no matter what Christine's motivations had been. The new haircut wasn't all that Christine had; Belinda watched as Nicolas followed her cousin with his camera, snapping away and telling her she was beautiful, gorgeous, his muse.

They were flirting, and had been since the camera equipment had arrived to the shoot. Belinda didn't appreciate the way Christine was acting; too flighty, too flirty, too obviously determined to bask in the new man's attention.

_I don't think that now is the best time for Christine to go shopping for a rebound guy, especially when there's no telling what will happen with the first man in question! If only Christine would speak to Erik, maybe just respond to one of his messages, then maybe this thing between them will be settled._ Belinda thought in irritation as she watched Christine openly flirt with the photographer.

_Who knew? Maybe Erik has been e-mailing her so often because the baby has been born and she isn't his, and he was trying to bring Cristine back into his life...until she looks, there's no way she'll ever know!_

Belinda wasn't sure how she felt about the situation, but only one thing was clear to her: Christine had to speak to Erik again, and soon.

* * *

**Paris**

"You haven't told her yet, have you?"

Erik glanced over to Elita, pausing to take in her appearance. She had dressed herself elegantly, as was the custom of all Parisian women.

He sighed slightly and returned to the table where they'd been sharing dinner in his loft. The food was Shaliman, Elita had always enjoyed his cooking. "Yes...no, not everything. I could reveal it all, but Christine has refused to answer any of my messages. It's been weeks and she's ignored my every attempt."

Elita sipped her wine, carefully considering his situation. She was a part of it now. "And you've spoken to the girl's stepmother?"

"Yes. We knew each other in Shalimar, though I didn't know her as well as Christine's father. I knew her well enough to make contact. After the first several days I had become worried- Kalila assured me that Christine was alive and well. She doesn't know what happened between us while Christine was here. As far as Kalila knows, it was all sightseeing and tourism." Erik shrugged, though inside he was torn apart with frustration.

Elita nodded and lightly ran her fingertips over the diamond bracelet Erik had given to her; a gift meant to bind their family. "Perhaps it should have stayed that way between you, at least then she would have had no reason to be angry."

Laughing bitterly, Erik nodded. "I wish this was as simple as plain anger. Christine ran from me and hasn't said a word since. I've called, e-mailed and written letters. I'm sure that she hates me- and why shouldn't she? In her eyes, I'm little more than a whore monger!"

Elita raised her eyebrows. "And I'm the whore? Why, thank you, Erik!"

Realizing his mistake, Erik was quick to amend his words. "No, no, Elita, that's not what I meant-"

"Yes, yes, I know. You should talk to the girl, Erik. Maybe face-to-face would be better than an e-mail, eh?" Elita's eyes flashed at him.

Erik sighed. "I will. Soon. Once things are settled- between us and then between Kumar and I. There is so much to do. I owe Christine the world, if she will still have me."


	26. Mistakes Laid Bare

Belinda watched with annoyed inner frustration as Christine readied herself for yet another night out with Nicolas. It would be the third time they'd gone out in that week alone, and with all that was implied, Belinda couldn't stop herself from asking, "What's been up with you lately? You and Nick have been joined at the hip for weeks."

Christine looked up to see Belinda in the reflected doorway of her mirror. Already irritated, Christine rolled her eyes. "Maybe I just want to have a little fun. Since when do I need your permission for that?" Such a comeback was typical of Christine whenever Belinda mentioned Nicolas. Her defensiveness was rude, making quick work of breaking down Belinda's patience.

The blond stepped in closer. "You've been acting like a rebellious teenager and it's really wearing thin. You think I can't see what's happening here? You figure Erik's married even though you haven't touched any of his letters, and rather than find out the truth you're running from it by spending all your time with Nick." Belinda snapped, growing similarly irritated by Christine's attitude.

Christine snapped her fingers. "You are so very insightful, Belinda. You should have been a psychologist."

"And you should quit acting so bitchy and just find out what the hell Erik has been trying to tell you these past few weeks! You don't think he'd spend all his time writing these letters if he didn't have anything to say, do you?" She demanded, gesturing to the small stack of unopened letters from Erik's Paris address.

Christine huffed out a sigh and zipped her makeup bag. "I don't have time to read anything now, Nick is taking me to his gallery opening."

Belinda groaned, and in her anger she swept the end table clear of Erik's letters, littering the living room with the envelopes.

Christine pushed past Belinda and stalked out of the apartment, her temper flaring more with each step she took. _What business is it of Belinda's what I do? She's not my damn keeper! God, I wanted distance from Erik and Belinda won't let me have it- I don't need to be reminded of him every moment, does she think I've forgotten about him? No! It's hard to forget your first love- I'll look at his letters when I'm ready, damn it, just leave me alone!_

Angry, Christine hardly saw where she was going until she looked up and realized that she had stormed to the end of her block. Anger had a way of fogging her thoughts.

"Christine? What are you doing, I thought you wanted me to pick you up?"

Christine looked up and smiled to see Nick heading toward her. He was a handsome man in his early thirties, with sandy brown hair, green eyes and a kind, boyish charm that had most girls swooning. While his face usually wore an easy smile, his expression showed nothing more than confusion. Likely, he hadn't expected to bump into her on the street when he'd been on his way to her place. She shook her head. "Oh, it's...I'm sorry, my head is in the clouds, that's all. I had an argument with Belinda just a moment ago."

"An argument between two models who live together? I've never heard of such a thing!" He joked as he pulled her into a hug. "Don't worry about that, tonight is all about fun, right?"

Christine nodded, feeling her mood begin to lighten already. "Yes, of course."

"Great, well the gallery booking is only a few blocks down that way." He pointed east. "So, shall we?" He asked, offering his arm.

"Yes, we certainly shall." Christine agreed, slipping her arm into his.

* * *

The night wore on. Christine smiled and laughed at the right times without hearing any of the jokes told or listening to any of the things that Nick had to say. His personal motivations aside, Nicolas was a truly gifted photographer. He had the artistic eye and the technical skill to bring out the best in his every photograph. Christine had felt connected to him as they'd worked; the man was professional and dedicated to making every shot count. 

Nicolas knew that something might be bothering Christine. He couldn't say that he knew her well, but he knew women in general well enough to know that there was something distracting her. Whatever it was, he couldn't bring it up in the middle of the opening. He was being approached from all sides, people offering their congratulations and admiration for his work. There was barely a moment to have a word with her, let alone show his genuine concern.

Christine left his side for a moment to take two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. Briefly, she considered downing them both, but decided it might be better to share and so brought one to Nicolas. He surprised her with a kiss of thanks on the cheek.

"Don't look so shocked, Christine. I've wanted to kiss you for weeks. I thought I'd lost my shot when you took off to France last month." He said as he guided her to a slightly more secluded alcove. Nicolas had been hoping for the chance to talk to her alone for a moment, a break from the constant flow of colleagues and congratulatory strangers.

Feeling suddenly off-balance, Christine couldn't stop herself from blushing. "I know. France...that was a fluke. I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to blow you off."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. That's over, and now we can start over."

_Start over._

Christine nodded. "I'd like that, I think. A fresh start might be just what I need."

Nicolas took her hand and drew her back into the thick of the crowd, toward a particular group of photographs. They were black and white, obviously candids- these shots had not been staged. Christine smiled as she recognized herself from the _Burberry_ shoot that she and Nicolas had worked on weeks before. Remembering that day, she recalled that he'd been following her with his camera, flirting and snapping pictures whenever she would smile or begin to laugh.

There she was, captured in beauty, laughing for the world. She turned to him. "You put me in your collection."

Beside her, Nicolas nodded. "Yes. You're beautiful, Christine. I wanted to show you as you are, natural and happy, not all done up and posing. This is the real you."

His words were beautiful, but reminiscent of what Erik had said to her in Paris.

_I prefer the real Christine...I want you as you are..._

Christine pushed away the stab of pain she felt at the memory. _Forget Erik for now. Nicolas is here, and the night is still young._

Surprising them both this time, Christine leaned forward and brushed her lips to his.

* * *

Later, Christine might try to lie to herself. She would say that they'd both had too much champagne, or been caught up in the heat of the moment. But no. The truth of it, the truth she didn't want to admit was that she was hurting and had gone with Nicolas as a way to distract herself from the throbbing, pulsing ache of dread in her heart. 

The dread of opening Erik's letters and learning of his daughter and his wife.

Christine rolled onto her side and let her eyes roam over Nicolas's studio. A true artist, he was never away from his work for long and so to save money he'd converted an open loft into both his home and work place. The walls were covered with photo sheets, photography equipment was assembled in the center area complete with a blank backdrop and the floor was littered with their clothes.

She felt unpleasantly hazy. There had been champagne the night before, but had there been sex as well?

Dreading the answer, Christine tried to remember but the last things she could recall were coming into the studio and kissing Nick.

Spearing a hand through her hair, Christine groaned slightly as she room seemed to tilt when she bent to retrieve her dress from the night before. Well. At least she wasn't naked beneath the sheets, that was something at least. Nicolas was a sweet guy who truly liked her, but the night before had been a mistake. _Why did I do this? Nicolas deserves better than sleeping with someone who's in love with another man!_

"Where are you off to?"

Startled, Christine whipped around to see Nicolas emerge from the small kitchen with two mugs of coffee in hand. Shirtless, with his jeans from the night before slung low on his narrow hips. He was handsome, and sweet, and gentle, but as he approached her, offering her the hot drink, Christine found herself growing repulsed by the blurred memory of the night before and the very sight of him.

It was nothing of him, she felt her stomach churn with disgust for herself and what she had been doing with her life for the past two months.

Ignoring Erik's continued attempts to communicate with her, snapping at Belinda for trying to offer genuinely sound advice, and now, the worst of all, using Nicolas as a way to escape her feelings. What the hell was wrong with her?

She straightened her dress and, forcing a small smile of thanks, Christine took the mug from him and sipped at the coffee within. "Thank you Nicolas."

He smiled, happy to have pleased her. "I think after last night you can call me Nick." He said, raising his eyebrows playfully.

So unlike Christine, he felt alive, and fortunate, for he believed that he and Christine would forge a relationship based on the amount of time they'd spent together in the past month and her obvious response to his advances.

Poor Nicolas, who had no idea of the storm raging within Christine.

Her smile faltered, but Christine was quick to recover. "I, um, about that...I think we should-"

Boyish and charming, Nicolas leaned forward and kissed her, all sweetness. "Maybe we should cool off for awhile?"

Christine nodded, obvious relief flooding her features. "Yes, that's exactly what I was trying to say."

He nodded, winking at her. "Good. I like you, Christine. I mean, that's obvious, but I wasn't looking for a one-night stand. I don't want to rush things with you. I've been hoping something would happen between us since we first met."

His words pierced her.

Christine swallowed. "Nicolas...I'm sorry, I just really can't do this."

His expression grew confused. "You can't do...?"

"This! This, you and me, I can't do it. I'm sorry, but last night, everything was a mistake." She burst out.

"Mistake?! What are you talking about? What about all the time we've spent together? Was that all a mistake too?" He demanded, reaching for her.

Christine put a hand to her temple. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have-"

"Shouldn't have led me on? God, I'm such an idiot! You knew I liked you and ignored me, but then when I came along with that _Burberry_ contract you couldn't stay away. Typical, I should have seen right through you but I guess I was just hoping for too much." He raked his hair back with his fingers and then gave a humorless laugh. "The funny thing is that I'm not even mad at you, I'm more angry with myself. Why did you make me think that you...that you...? Nevermind, just go." Nicolas stormed over to his front door, holding it open for her.

Meekly, Christine tried again. "I truly am sorry, Nicolas. I know I shouldn't have-"

He cut her off. "No. Don't try to feed me some bullshit about how sorry you are- we didn't sleep together, Christine. As amazing as this may sound, I don't take advantage of people- you've cornered the market on that. Now go."

* * *

Miserable, Christine slowly made it back to her apartment. She was thankful that Belinda was out for the day. Christine sighed and looked about the dark, empty space. Rain was threatening overhead, leaving the city veiled in a crushing veil of charcoal gray. She moved through the living room, pausing at the sight of the floor. Erik's letters were there, all of them scattered on the floor. 

Paris. Erik. The truth.

Everything Christine had refused to confront was now laid out before her, waiting for her to reach forward and find the answers.

_I can't keep running from you_, she thought. _I've let this go on for too long._


	27. Secrets

It was several weeks, nearly three months had gone by when Erik received word from America.

It wasn't Christine, but Kalila who had made the contact, inviting him to New York. Erik read and then reread her e-mail message, considering. Go to New York? Christine was there, likely happy to have moved on with her life. Erik didn't want to intrude on her again, she didn't deserve for him to ruin her peace. But Kalila's message held within it a slight urgency that he could not ignore.

**'...need your assistence with a few of Gabriel's remaining effects...there is a dealine to meet, and I know Gabriel would have wanted it this way...'**

Gabriel had likely wanted many things, the least of which being the disaster that Erik's relationship with Christine had become. Not a full week into their reunion, and not only had Erik insulted her, taken her virginity and then driven her away, he had likely put Christine in danger even if they hadn't realized it at the time.

Erik's heart twisted at the memories of their short-lived happiness. No. He did not want to intrude upon her again.

So much had happened since Christine had left him, terrible and wondrous things. Should he go to America again and risk her seeing him now, after everything that had happened? He wasn't sure, but Kalila's words compelled him into considering the travel to New York, at the very least. Just to be sure, he would remind himself to call Kalila in the morning.

Erik closed his laptop and set it aside. He was in bed, and it was very late. Past midnight. He didn't usually work late, but the businesses he'd established to support his new life in France needed his attention. With the change in season, profits were thankfully on the rise. His worries were lessening.

_Not all worries._

Erik looked over to the other side of his bed.

Nicole was asleep beside him. She was as beautiful as ever as the light from the Eiffel Tower spilled into his room through the window. It threw a silver cast over her before sweeping onward and returning the room to darkness. He stared at her, for several long moments, watching her sleep. Unable to stop himself, he reached forward to touch her hair, stroke her cheek, let his fingertips graze down her spine. Erik shook his head.

Nicole was everything to him. He loved her, but it was Christine he longed for.

_She left me and hasn't responded to any of my messages. If I were to go to her, in person, would she run again? Warn me to leave her? I've offered to tell her everything, all the secrets that lay between us, and still she has refused to speak to me. Am I a fool? Surely, but I must try again, for the love she gave me, and the love I have for her..._

Erik slipped from his bed, careful not to wake Nicole. He moved downstairs and picked up his telephone. After a few minutes, Erik was assured that Montar would handle the details of his travel. He would be in America by the next week, and he would not be alone.

* * *

Belinda paced the length of her trailer, bored and restless as snow flurries danced outside her windows. She had been booked for a full spread in _Vogue_, and the technicians were organizing the equipment outside though they were encountering set problems due to the weather. The trailer she'd been assigned was situated just on the outside perimeter of the shoot, which was itself outside of the city, further upstate. It had been an easy drive to the location once she'd left the crowded city behind, however the weather was causing all kinds of havok for the production. The camera equipment was delicate to begin with, but add in the snow and wind and the problems seemed to muliply with no end in sight. 

_I've been stuck in here for over two hours!_ She thought to herself in irritation. Though there was nothing she could do to help the camera crew, Belinda was determined to give her all when it came time to roll on film. The last thing she wanted to do was give in the the stereotype of a spoiled, high-strung model, but all the same she was growing irritable with all the delays. She had Christmas shopping to do, after all, and none of it would get done while she was stuck in a makeup trailer.

Sighing, she sank down into a makeup chair and made a face at herself in the mirror. _This is getting crazy, I want to get out of here!_

Starting at a knock on the door, Belinda rose to answer it, hoping for the lead photographer to give her the go for the shoot. Instead she found a shivering Christine on the other side. Belinda frowned. "What do you want?"

Christine held up two paper cups from Starbucks, Belinda's favorite. "Peace offering." Christine told her, teeth chattering from the chill.

Reluctantly, Belinda took a cup from her and stepped aside to let her into the warmth of the trailer. "Fine, come on inside before you freeze."

Christine rushed inside, thankful to be out of the cold. Though she was wearing a coat and gloves, the biting cold was still tormenting her. She felt for Belinda, who was required to wear a series of short dresses for the shoot. "Thanks for letting me in."

Belinda shrugged. "Thanks for the coffee. What do you want?" She repeated.

"Right down to business, huh?"

The blonde was unfazed. "Of course. Would you have me any other way?"

"I guess not. I came to say that I'm sorry. I've been horrible to you every time Erik's name came up...you didn't deserve for me to brush you off when you were just trying to help. I was wrong and I'm sorry." Christine told her sincerely.

Belinda smiled and retook her seat before the makeup counter. "Music to my ears, bitch. So what brought on this change of heart?"

"Getting tipsy last night and waking up in Nicolas's studio early this morning."

"What? No way! You banged him?"

Christine shook her head. "No. We spent most of the night kissing and then we ended up falling asleep. Technically we _slept together_, but we didn't _sleep together_, you know?"

Belinda nodded as she sipped her coffee. "I get you. So what about You-Know-Who?"

"Erik?"

"No, Voldemort. Yes, Erik! Have you talked to him yet?" Belinda pressed.

Christine nodded. "I went through his letters and e-mails, but I haven't spoken to him yet."

"And why is that? He didn't get married to that other chick did he?"

Christine shrugged, smiling though she was very tired. "Leave it to Erik to keep me hanging in suspense! In the things he wrote he was mostly apologizing. Personally I don't think he has anything to apologize for-"

"What, are you kidding me? Excuse me, Christine, but isn't he the guy that said he'd marry that woman? As in, push you to the side- you're fit to sleep with but not marry unless you get knocked up first?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "You really need to broaden your cultural understanding, Belinda. Things are not as black and white in the rest of the world as they are in your eyes."

"Which means?"

"Which means that Erik, being the king of an entire country, had certain expectations to live up to. He was trying to honor centuries-old custom; even if it would essentially sentence himself to a lifetime of regret, Erik would have done so to set an example of integrity for the rest of the country. If nothing else, he was determined to be a father to his child, to be a better man than his own father was to him." Christine could not condemn Erik for trying to do what was right, no matter how the circumstances came about. She glanced at Belinda, a shrewd gleam in her eyes. "Perhaps if American men were half as honorable there would not be so many young unwed mothers."

"We could go tit for tat on this forever, Chris!" Belinda groused.

"Yes, but who doesn't love a good argument? To sum it all up, Erik's unique position in the world did not allow any alternative for him but to propose to Elita. This was bigger than our feelings- duty before emotion, as it were. You'd have to be Shaliman to understand, I think. He did not explain where he stands now in the letters, he said that he wants to offer answers in person." Christine sighed, tired from the drive to the photoshoot location and the emotions of the day.

"Maybe if I tried harder to understand your customs I could forgive what he did, but as far as I'm concerned be basically dropped you to marry his baby's momma. Anyway, whatever. I just hate that you were so torn up over what happened." Belinda shrugged, misguided but protective of her cousin and friend. "All right, so what happens now? He wrote that he wants to talk in person. Are you going to France again?"

Christine sighed, shrugged. "I'm not sure what to do."

Belinda rubbed her temples. "God, are you ever sure about anything?! If I was a man, your indecisiveness would drive me crazy!"

Christine laughed for the first time that day. "Then we must be grateful that I am not your lover."

* * *

_This is a mistake._

Erik had thought the same thing over and over again, even as he'd made his decision to comply with Kalila's request for his genuine company. He'd known it as he'd arranged the travel plans, known it as he'd boarded the plane and known it as he'd landed and settled into the lavish hotel suite.

Still, knowing his arrival was a mistake was not enough to deter him. More than anything, he longed for a glimpse of Christine even as he dreaded the sight of her. He wanted her happiness, but the sight of her with another man might push him over the edge.

_Well._

Erik admitted his jealous heart, but there was little he could do to stop himself. He felt resigned to the fact that he had ruined things with Christine, first with rushing her into becoming his lover and then his situation with Elita...it was too late to change things now, and his one regret was far outweighed by what he had gained in their separation.

He stared out at the snow flurries on the other side of the window, and again he berated himself for his own foolishness.

_She obviously doesn't want to see you again. She ran from you. She's refused you. It's over, Erik, what the hell are you doing in America?_

He shook his head and turned from the window, unconsciously smoothing the lapels of his suit. Elita stepped out of the bedroom and made her way to the sofa before the dormant fireplace. She watched Erik as he looked out the window, watching the snow above and the people below. She crossed her legs at the ankle with practiced ease. Her dark eyes found his across the room when he turned and noticed her.

"It's beautiful here." Her French tongue was a familiar comfort to him.

Erik nodded. "I suppose. I've only been here once, and at the time I hadn't bothered to take much notice of the city."

"Your eyes were only for her?"

Again, Erik nodded. "Yes. They still are. You know that."

Elita shrugged, her elegant nonchalance another familiar comfort. "Does she know about us, _darling?"_ She teased.

Only one thing made Erik happy anymore; Elita hoped that Erik would begin to brighten at other things again, if given enough time. She had always hated to see him unhappy.

Indulgently, Erik shook his head. "No,_ lover_, she does not. However, I'll be meeting with Kalila tomorrow, and I doubt it will take long from there for Christine to learn the truth of us."

"You know where she lives. Go to Christine. Tell her."

Restless, his fingers tensed. "I should meet with Kalila first. This wasn't just a visit for our old times' sake. She mentioned something about Gabriel's effects. Remember I told you he was a journalist? There's probably something he'd written about me that needs my permission for release."

Elita glanced to the window. "I hadn't thought it would snow so early in the winter here."

Erik followed her gaze, feeling both restless and uncomfortable now, wasting time talking about the weather. "Yes. America is a strange place. I might want to come back and explore it someday. Beyond just this city, to the mountains or the plains. Anyway, It's your first trip here, what would you like to do?"

Elita grinned at the question. "I want to go shopping-"

Erik raised his brows at her from behind the mask. "Shopping? You live in Paris, you could go shopping every day if it pleased you."

She stood from the sofa, still smiling. "Let a girl finish, will you? Yes, I could go shopping in Paris but I'm in New York for the first time of my life and I haven't bought anything for myself in months. Everything has been for the baby!"

Erik nodded then, understanding. Elita was not a selfish woman, she only wanted to indulge herself while she was there with him.

"What I'd like to do, other than shopping," Elita went on, "Is go to a Broadway show and then out to dinner. It's not too much, is it?"

"Of course not. No worries, I'll have Montar find us tickets and you can go treat yourself this afternoon." Erik said, handing over a credit card.

Elita frowned at his offer of funds. "You don't need to give me your money, Erik. You've given me so much already-"

"I wasn't offering you money. I am insisting that you go buy yourself something nice, on me. I would take you shopping myself but I'd rather not go to be gawked at in the shops. Nevermind who I am, here I am only a strange man in a mask. Treat yourself, Elita, I know it's been a long time."

Elita laughed at his coaxing. "Well, if you are forcing me."

"I am," Erik said, putting the card in her hands. "Buy something for yourself, and buy something for David. I know he wanted to come with us."

Her eyes darkened slightly, but Elita's joy remained in place. "He did want to come, but his office would not allow it. You know how duty comes first in politics."

Erik paused at her words. "Better than most, I should think. Off with you, Elita."

She smiled and slipped into her chic white trenchcoat. Even when dressed casually, Elita appeared every inch the stylish Parisian. She glanced over to the open door of Erik's bedroom. "Will you be all right by yourselves for a few hours?"

Erik nodded. "I think we'll manage. Go, Elita."

Needing no more coaxing, Elita slipped out of the hotel suite, leaving Erik alone with his daughter.


	28. All He Ever Wanted

Elita had been gone for a scant half hour when Erik's ears pricked at the sound of their stirring daughter. He set his lunch aside and went to her.

Across the main room of the suite and on into his bedroom, to see a tiny, squirming _thing_ beneath the blanket. The baby. His baby. His...and Elita's. Nearing three months old, weighing at a healthy twelve pounds now, with an excitable personality prone to big smiles and kicking feet. It was rare that she became upset but when she did...God, when she did, her voice could bring down a chandelier.

Erik moved forward and stopped at the foot of the bed.

_There she is._

He stood over the girl, watching as her little body writhed beneath the cashmere blanket Elita had put over her. The baby stopped fussing once she noticed him, and they stared at each other for several long moments. Erik was very proud, his chest swelled with a love so strong it pained him whenever he looked upon her. He had never known it would be possible to love another so completely.

Erik couldn't help but wonder how he appeared to her. Did she see him as a man? A king? Was he Erik to her, father, a source of comfort and fascination?

His lips pulled into a slight smile as she smiled at him, her small hands reaching up. It would be months before she would be able to speak, but her desire was clear. Erik sat down beside her on the bed and placed his fingertips into her hands, smiling again as her little hands held fast to his fingers, pulling him closer as if she wanted to share a secret. She pulled his left finger into her mouth, sucking happily. Gently, Erik pulled his finger away and then lightly tickled her belly before he picked her up and held her out before him, letting her tiny sock-clad feet stand on his knees.

Erik felt his heart twist at her smiling baby face, so round and smooth. It was still far too early to tell for sure, but Erik imagined that she would come to resemble Elita more than himself; already she had her mother's dark eyes and rich brown hair rather than Erik's coloring. He didn't mind, in fact he preferred Elita's looks to his own. There was a small part of him, however, that hoped she might grow to resemble his own mother in some small way.

_Perhaps, perhaps, all in good time..._

The baby bounced on his knee, kicking and squirming as she grinned. Erik admitted that before her birth, he'd had little knowledge of children, babies in particular. Still, there was no one alive that could deny his intense love for his daughter, no matter how clumsy and ignorant he was of proper "baby etiquette".

Carrying the squirming baby into the main room of the suite, he fetched a bottle for her from the refrigerator. "Here you are, _mon petit fille_." Erik murmured to her, half in Shaliman, half in French.

He sat down at the table as she greedily suckled at the bottle, Erik sat her in his lap and moved to finish his own lunch. It was a comforting ritual he had come to share with his daughter, eating together in this fashion. The simple contentment of domesticity pleased him more than he'd expected. He liked having the baby to himself, she was his guiding light now.

In the past five years of Erik's life, there had been barely a moment for rest or any sort of peace. His sleep was often fitful and restless, his days full of intense stress. A country that he'd grown to love had come to rest on his shoulders and Erik had done everything in his power to stabilize the nation and calm the people. He'd done everything he could...everything he could...

_True._

The man had spent years struggling for Shalimar, taking only a day or two out of the year to indulge himself where he could. Things are often said about a man and his natural appetites, French men in particular, and like any other Erik had craved women in his bed. Beautiful, vivacious women- intelligent, inspiring, irresistible.

Much of it he regretted.

Those careful "arrangements" he'd made with the women, whether French or Shaliman, seemed wholly empty when he looked back on them now. Empty, true. Meaningless couplings once or twice a year. Pleasant distractions, nothing more. He'd known it all along, he'd known it and so had the women but they had gone along with him anyway- a few nights of pleasure, memories of his kindness and their understanding, parting gifts of earrings or a jeweled bracelet.

_You fool._

Erik looked down at the baby sitting so contently in his lap and stroked the back of her neck. _My daughter_. _However you came into the world, you are here now. You are mine and you are loved. Never forget that and never think otherwise. Now that you are here, I dread to imagine my world without you in it._

His daughter was a curious child and even before her birth Erik had determined to deny her nothing. She looked up and watched as he ate, her large whiskey eyes watching him keenly; she considered for a moment, then issued her usual fussing noise to indicate her want. Erik was familiar with the sound by now; clever infant, she already had Erik wrapped around her tiny finger. Where Elita would deny her, she had quickly learned that Erik would not.

Again, Erik's lack of experience was exploited as the child alternately moaned and cooed at him. Shrugging, he mashed a piece of the melon he'd been eating, and let her have a taste. The tart sweetness hit her tongue and the baby kicked her feet and giggled, and Erik knew he'd been bested again.

"You have ensnared me, my love." He told her as his fingertips stroked the dark, downy hair covering her skull. It was very soft. He was reminded of a young bird's feathers.

Helpless, he tried and tried again to picture how she would appear when she was older. At five years old. At 10, 15, 20. He wondered at the girl and then the woman she would become. As infatuated with his child as he was, Erik would not allow her to become completely spoiled, he would not stand for her to be selfish, or unkind. He prayed for her intelligence, and resolved to keep her learning at all times. When he thought of all the places he could take her, all the things they could share -museums, art galleries, operas- he could hardly wait for her to grow up.

_But please don't grow up too fast_, he thought as he watched her yawn and lean back against his thigh. Truly, he treasured this time with her. His daughter was precious and fascinating to him. He dreaded her growth even as he eagerly anticipated it. Erik held her up and closed his eyes as her tiny, clawing hands reached forward to touch his face.

He never wore his mask when he was with the baby. Erik wanted her to recognize the man behind the facade he showed to the rest of the world, and when she was older, she would better understand why he wore such a thing. The baby's tiny hands patted his cheeks, his closed eyes and then grasped at his nose, curious and happy as she smiled.

Erik nodded and sat her down on the couch, leaning her against the cushion to support her back. Her large eyes watched him as he moved to kneel before her and tickle her feet. The baby giggled and tried to move her feet away, but Erik wouldn't allow her to escape.

"My little princess, you rule my heart." Erik told her in Shaliman as she squirmed in his hands.

She was his one joy, his child and love.

* * *

"Erik, New York is fabulous! My God, I don't want to leave." Elita gushed as she came back into his suite. 

Erik looked up from the book he'd ordered from the gift shop below, and smiled at her shopping bags. Elita possessed a joy for life that he hoped their daughter had inherited, rather than his own more serious outlook. She came closer to him, all smiles and light.

"I see you made good use of my card." He said, looking pointedly at her bags.

Elita shook her head. "You think I'd take advantage of your money? No, no, I bought one thing for myself and one thing for David like you said and then everything else I bought on my own. Care to see?"

Erik shrugged, more or less indifferent to the clothes she'd bought, but not wanting to ruin her fun. Elita brought out a number of pretty blouses, dresses and scarves, along with the inevitable things she'd picked up for their baby. Parisian that she was, Elita could never resist a sensational outfit. She'd chosen a sweater for David and a pair of sunglasses for herself, and reluctantly handed Erik back his card.

He smiled. "New York shopping suits you, eh Elita?"

"More than just the shopping, I went to the museum and even got a little something for you." She winked. He appreciated her playful expressions and gestures; he felt she was a brilliant counterpart to his own newly somber attitude. He simply hadn't been the same since...

"You didn't need to get me anything."

"Yes I did. Since you brought me to New York it's the least I could do. Think of it as a holiday gift."

He nodded. "You are very sweet to me."

Elita looked at him, puzzled. "Is there any reason that I shouldn't be?"

"I suppose not."

Sighing, Elita settled her packages on the sofa and moved to stand before him. "Just look at you, Erik. You've been so gloomy but for when you're with the baby. Your guilt will eat you alive if you don't go see her to explain, Erik." Elita said wisely. "It's better if she learns of us now than on television."

Erik turned the thought over in his mind, considering his upcoming abdication. "I may see her soon. I still need to see Kalila."

"Well, you don't have all the time in the world- act fast, and act sure. Now, where is my sweet baby?" Elita asked, all sudden eagerness.

Erik ticked his head in the direction of his bedroom. "I put her down for a nap a while ago."

Elita nodded and went to see to their child, intent to wake her before she slept too long and would then want to stay up late into the night. Erik followed her to the doorway and watched as she tickled the baby into waking, and the two beauties cuddled together.

He pondered over her words and made a decision. "Elita, I'm going out for a little while. Would you like anything?"

She glanced over to him, nearly lost in playing with their child. "No, I think we're fine Erik. We'll see you when you get back."

* * *

Erik left the hotel to walk the city. He only wanted to clear his head for a time, and he would have a hard time doing so in the presence of Elita and the baby. Head bowed slightly, with the hood of his coat pulled forward, Erik walked somewhat aimlessly in thought, though he remained near the hotel. 

He was not the same man that Christine had left in Paris.

The change undoubtedly stemmed from the birth of his daughter, the realization of his fatherhood. There were times when he still found himself in something like shock.

_I am a father!_

While still within Elita's womb, the baby had been more an idea to him, a possibility. Then, with her birth, she was suddenly and totally real to him. A child, a daughter. She was his family, she shared his blood. More than just a simple blood connection, the girl had his heart from the first time he'd been allowed to hold her, from the moment their eyes met and her tiny hand, shocking in its strength, had held fast to his finger.

He had lost himself in her from the first day, rearranging his life to include a baby he hadn't expected but now refused to imagine himself without.

It was love that took him over, stronger and more complete than anything he'd ever felt before.

The situation had needed to be sorted with Elita, and they had so far come to agreement on certain things, though much remained to be discussed. It was while Erik had the baby alone with him in his loft for the first time that he had looked into her eyes and felt a jarring shock: a great swell of emotion had drowned him, and Erik had cried. Such innocence was painful in its beauty, and he had cried long and deeply for what he'd lost in his life, what had made him the man he'd become. He was at once shamed for what he'd done in the past and furious with himself; what followed then was the realization of this greatest regrets and a profound determination to simply _be better_ at living.

He resolved to be a man worthy of the title _father_.

The night of this realization, once the baby had been tucked away, Erik had had a dream. He rarely remembered his dreams, and even on the occasion when he did he was never much troubled by them. Nothing interesting there anyway; standard stuff, his dreams: talking animals, vivid colors, the unexplored landscape of a twisted man's imagination.

_However._

His dream that night had been different. That night, Erik had been visited by a vision of his mother.

She had appeared to him exactly as she had looked on that last day; bright and beautiful, her hair a deep flame in the high desert sun of Shalimar. They were standing, facing each other again, just as they had before parting on their last day. The setting was changing. Rather than the lot in Shalimar, they were suspended in space, landscapes bleeding in and out of form around them, watercolors flooding into New York, Paris, London, Madrid, until Erik realized they were revisiting all the places he'd been in the past year.

"Erik."

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded and confused. "Mother?"

Adelle laughed then, and tossed her hair the way he'd seen her do when she allowed him to accompany her to photo shoots. " _'Mother.'_ You make me sound so old! And you, Erik, I might congratulate as a new father. My son has a daughter!"

Her speech was a combination of his memory of her and the diction that Erik himself had picked up over the years; half playful and half serious. Somewhere, Erik found his voice. "Yes. A little girl. I insisted that Adelle be her middle name."

She frowned slightly. "Is that all you intend to give her?"

"No. I will give her all of myself." Erik declared, his dream self echoing the determination of his actual person.

The specter of his mother raised her brows and rolled her sea-glass eyes. "When have you ever given your all to another? This child will not settle for a bracelet when you're ready to move on."

"She is my daughter. There _is_ no moving on from what we are to each other. Why are you saying this? After all I've done, all I had to sacrifice for your precious Shalimar- and we both might have been better off staying away from that place, I might add..." He started, long-buried resentment coming to the surface.

Subconsciously, Erik had been waiting for a chance to confront her on the decision to bring him back to his father; not a happy reunion it had been, doomed from day one, as it were.

Adelle shrugged, unconcerned. "Perhaps. But then you would have never met your father."

"_Perhaps?!_ If not for Shalimar and Bhaskar you might...you might have..."

"What? Lived? Perhaps. And you might be a better man." She shrugged again, hinting at the truth he'd been dreading.

"Better? I thought I'd...have I disappointed you? I've tried to do what I thought would please you."

"To please me or please yourself? You nearly killed yourself to save Shalimar from its own chaos, yes, but did you do it for the people from the outset or for the chance to destroy any trace of your father's honor?"

Had anyone been there to witness Erik's body in bed, they would have seen a visible recoil tear through him.

"Bhaskar had no honor! Never call him my father- he was _nothing_ to me. Ignored me as a child and taunted me as a man, right until his death. Do you defend what he did to his country? Embezzling the treasury, exploiting the people. Honor, honor, Bhaskar didn't know the meaning of the word. His only concern was the pursuit of personal fortune, the pursuit of women. The only reason I _exist_ was because he was so god damned determined to charm you." Erik fumed.

"And is that not the exact reason that your daughter was born?" Adelle asked him calmly, unfazed by his temper. He had inherited it from her, after all.

Erik paused at her question, considering. "No, of course not. I'm not like him! It wasn't the same with Elita and I. There were...it wasn't..."

"You haven't stuttered like this since you were three years old."

"All right! Fine! Yes, Elita and I...we were..."

"You wanted Elita since the two of you first met, years ago, and you know it. She knew it too, and I think you knew that she knew. Still, as confident as she is, you knew that she was still too shy to suggest a liaison with you. You, Erik. You, the Crowned King of Shalimar! Perhaps you were wary of damaging your friendship, but that fear only deterred you for a short time- you, as all men eventually do, gave in to temptation."

Shamed, Erik murmured, "Please stop." He didn't know why he was pleading with her now when he knew she would not stop.

"Elita adored being your chosen lover. After the first nights you spent together, she walked on air, her feet not touching the ground for weeks. You came back to her during a difficult time in her life. She told you, remember? Her mother had died of cancer six months before."

Erik nodded. His voice was quiet. "Yes, I remember. She cried as she told me and I held her. She was the first I'd held that way and it made me feel...afraid, but I wasn't sure of what. I held Christine that way in New York, as she'd told me about Gabriel."

"And were you afraid then?"

He paused, considering. "Yes and no. It hurt to see her cry, my friend. I wanted to make her happy. I brought her to France hoping to make things better but all I accomplished was to make her cry again, and to drive her away. She won't talk to me."

Adelle tilted her head. "No, she won't. She told you not to apologize. She told you she wasn't angry. That should not suggest to you that she was not hurt. You know why."

Erik nodded. The shame was creeping in on him, painful and cold. "She loves me."

"Some would wonder why, considering."

"I didn't want any of this to happen."

"My God, Erik! Don't you ever get tired of saying that? 'I didn't want this to happen.'. And yet it has! There is no point to romancing thoughts of 'what if?'. Your life is as it is for a reason."

"I do love her."

Adelle looked up. "Christine or your daughter?"

"Both. I was nothing before them."

"We might be French, Erik, but let's not be too dramatic!" She laughed at him, the same laugh he remembered from the day that killed her and scarred him. Her sea-glass eyes lost their wit and gained the love and kindness he'd missed so much more than he'd cared to admit, even to himself. Her small, soft hand moved forward to cup his cheek, offering a comfort he'd gone decades without.

_Mother..._

"There was no love for you after my end, until Christine arrived with her father. I understand. They thought the worst when all you wanted was a friend. Your new affection for the girl was condemned by so many suspicious eyes. No wonder you closed yourself off, my poor son." She planted a kiss on his forehead, just as she had...just as she had...

"Oh, my poor Erik." She sighed, smiling sadly at him. "Freud would have had a fun time going through your brain."

Erik felt a bittersweet pang in his chest. "Kumar told me that once."

Adelle nodded. "I know._ I_ only said that because you remember _him_ saying that- I died, Erik, almost twenty years ago. Your daughter was born only days ago. Bury your past. It's time to live for more than just endless regret."

Her words echoed through his mind for weeks.

The harsh pull of regret was still strong, but Erik shook it off. Actions, not more endless brooding, was called for.

_Christine has refused me. My daughter is all that matters to me now..._

He had told himself, over and over again, to forget Christine. To ignore the jarring pain in his chest whenever he thought of the days they'd spent together. When he thought of the love they'd made, and the pain he'd caused her. Still, some things could not be ignored. He wanted to make amends, to make things right between them.

Erik had taken it as a sign that Kalila had contacted him, but Erik knew that if he was to see Christine again, there could be no secrets between them, and he wanted her to see the truth with her own eyes.

It might be too late for love, but Erik was determined to try for forgiveness.


	29. One Step Closer

Kalila looked over the documents that were spread over the table, and then glanced up to watch as Erik's sharp eyes absorbed what had been laid out before him. Gabriel's memoirs. Delicate information regarding Shalimar and the man who became its present king. No wonder Kalila had been afraid to send it to him! If any of it were to find its way into the wrong hands...

Erik gathered the documents to him and stood up. His eyes found the large window at his left, and the sky outside was quickly growing darker with gathering gray storm clouds. The winds were howling outside, the night would be frigid and snowy. He found that he liked America, but all the same he was anxious to get back home to Paris. Ah, still, he was prevented from getting on with his life as he'd like it- there was still the business of publicly abdicating to Kumar, and only once that was through could Erik return to France to truly begin his life with Elita and their child.

He looked up, across the table, to Kalila. The years had not much changed her, or so Erik thought. She was leaner than he remembered, and there was a darkness in her eyes- no doubt brought on by Gabriel's death. That his end was not sudden was of no matter- in a way, death is always sudden. That Shaliman beliefs granted a certain measure of comfort was not to say that Kalila could be readily happy again so soon.

The fact remained that her husband was dead, and she was alone. She had no family in America, save for Christine.

Erik felt for her, but she had asked him to come for his permission to release Gabriel's memoirs, not for a favor or special treatment. He had offered his condolences upon arriving, and Kalila had brushed his concern aside. As he remembered, Kalila's attitude toward him had cooled considerably in Shalimar, a result of the growing suspicion directed at him for his friendship with Christine.

He understood.

Still, she had asked him to go over Gabriel's memoirs and consider giving his approval. Gabriel had been a good friend, and his choice would not be compromised by anything Kalila might say or do.

"There is too much here to review in one sitting," Erik said, breaking the silence. He gathered the documents into one neat pile, and then tucked them into the folder she'd presented him with upon arriving. "Do you mind if I take these with me so I can go over them on my own?"

Kalila nodded. "I suppose, so long as I get them back in time. Gabriel's publishing lawyers are impatient. But then, all lawyers are." She remarked, trying for a touch of humor.

Erik nodded and allowed himself the briefest of smiles. He wanted to ask after Christine, just to know if she was all right, if she was happy, but Kalila hadn't dropped a hint of her stepdaughter since he'd arrived. She knew that Erik had taken Christine to Paris, yet she hadn't even brought the subject up between them. She had been quick, to-the-point since he'd arrived. Erik tried to return the joke. "I suppose so. Lawyers are impatient everywhere, not just in America."

It was awkward between them. Unanswered questions hung in the air, the gaping silences that stretched after they spoke. It left Erik to wonder what Christine had told her, and if Kalila knew nothing of how the events in Paris had ended then he figured her remote attitude had more to do with the loss of Gabriel than his visit. Though they had been civil in Shalimar, he and Kalila had never been close, and as she had joined the others to regard him with suspicion, Erik couldn't say he wanted to get any closer to her now.

As for what had happened between he and Christine, Erik would be damned if he would be the one who told Kalila anything. A lesson he'd quickly learned upon his coronation was to never reveal your hand.

She was staring at him now, Kalila's great dark eyes taking him all in. Erik, the man she'd known only briefly in Shalimar, the man who became king shortly before Gabriel had taken her away to live in America. That all seemed like a lifetime ago now. The man that sat before her might as well have been a ghost. It was all very surreal to her. Call it woman's intuition, but Kalila felt that Erik was hiding something. Nothing new there; he'd always been a secretive creature, but she felt a shift in him, something strange and wonderful had happened to him. What could it be?

"Kalila, is something the matter?" Erik asked her, breaking her trance.

She blinked, and blushed as she realized she'd been staring at him. "Oh, I'm sorry Erik. I didn't mean to stare. It's just been a busy few months, that's all. Arranging everything Gabriel left behind...well, I'm sure you remember how it is."

Erik did, and felt his stomach knot at the memory of the time after his mother's death. Her things had been left for him to sort through, and each item of clothing and every jeweled trinket had pierced him as he'd forged ahead, a glutton for punishment, and boxed it all away. Her things had been stored in the palace for years until Erik had had everything moved into the spare attic space of his loft in Paris. There were only a few boxes, but he had avoided them for years.

The man nodded, and raised a gloved hand to adjust his mask. It was a common gesture of his to do so when he became uncomfortable. Kalila smiled to herself, remembering. _Some things never change._

"Yes, I remember. And I will finish reviewing these soon," Erik assured her. He tucked the folder into his briefcase and stood, obviously ready to escape her probing eyes. "Thank you, Kalila."

She stood and followed him to the door, her smaller frame bobbing after him. Erik paused at the doorway and then turned to her. "Tell me, Kalila, will you return to Shalimar? If you wish, I could speak to Kumar. You could have your old position back if you want it."

Kalila shrugged. "I haven't decided. All my family is there, but I feel I am also needed here. Christine puts on her brave face, but I think she still needs me as her mother."

He hesitated, wondering if it would be safe to ask after her now. "Christine. Is she still broken over Gabriel, do you think?"

Kalila crossed her arms. "In a way I believe she always will be. I hate to admit it, but the two of you are very much alike as you've both lost your parents. Christine just might have an easier time with all of this since she's not-"

"Alone, as I was. I understand your meaning, Kalila." Erik reflected for a moment. "I'm at the Hilton, under the name 'Kire'. Call me or drop in whenever you like. I'll finish reviewing Gabriel's work before the end of the week. I promise."

Kalila nodded and watched as Erik strode out into the cold, keeping his head down to both avoid being gawked at for his mask and to keep the bitter wind's bite at bay.

She closed the door and turned to face the interior of her apartment.

It was dim and gray inside, and had been since Kalila had begun to go through Gabriel's things. She had not been destroyed by his death, but the constant, tormenting memory of him was in every inch of the space they had shared for the past several years. It would destroy her if she did not begin the next chapter of her life soon, Kalila could feel it.

She had saved Gabriel's home office area for the last; a crushing dreadful loneliness coming over her as she'd gone through his papers, letters and notes. It was a task with a powerful finality to it- in going through Gabriel's private writings, there was an admission that it was over. Her prayers for his recovery had gone unanswered. Gabriel was dead, gone, and would not come home to her again.

Kalila sighed. The only thing left was to go through his things and tie up the loose ends of his unfinished business.

It was there that she had found letters, notes and the nearly finished manuscript.

Kalila had waited until she felt the time was right to contact Erik for his permission to release, and he'd surprised her with his willingness to come to America at such short notice. Well, that was Erik for you. He'd always been a strange one, but loyal to a fault. Gabriel had been a friend and so Erik had come. Simple.

Erik was there now, and would be for several more days. Kalila nodded to herself and picked up her phone.

* * *

_What am I doing?!_

This was becoming a constant questioning in the back of Christine's mind. She had asked it of herself in regard to Erik, Nicolas and Belinda over the past several weeks, ever since she'd returned from Paris, a constant confusion of self-doubt and weariness. Upon speaking with Kalila when she'd gone over to see her stepmother for dinner, and learning that Erik was in New York, staying barely five blocks from her apartment, Christine had paced for a time.

Stupid as it was, she wondered why Erik had not tried to see her yet.

_Are you insane? You know why he hasn't been in to see you- after running from him and ignoring all attempts to contact you, why on earth would he waste his time?_

Still, Christine had made up her mind- she had run from things for too long, and she would be a coward to continue running now when Erik was so close. Determined to speak to him at last, to learn the truth no matter how painful it might be, Christine dressed for the day and began walking straight toward the Hilton hotel.

Doubt assaulted her with every step, one distressing possibility after another. What if Erik didn't want to see her? What if he had married? What if he was angry?

Christine ignored her own sense of dread. _Whatever I find when I finally see him, I'll have earned it by running from him all this time. If he married that woman, then I'll have to accept it and give up the dream. Belinda was right- if Erik has married, the world will not end. God, stop worrying, and just see for yourself..._

She imagined that Erik would be caught off his guard to find her at his hotel room door, just as she had been when he'd come for her after receiving Gabriel's letter. It might be a funny thing to see him so shocked, wide-eyed and with a dropped jaw.

It was a simple thing to get his room number and ride the elevator to the 8th floor. She strode down the hallway like it was a designer catwalk, again determined to appear strong should anyone see her. Bright eyes found his room number, _827_. Swallowing her pride, and mindful that she'd wasted months and could not afford to waste even more time, Christine knocked.

After a moment...

The door swung open to reveal Elita at the threshold. Christine's breath caught in her throat, surprised to see her again. The other woman was beautiful, with the air of mystery held by all Parisian women. Her creamy golden-olive skin, deeper than Christine's own pale, was on display in her fashionable outfit of a blouse and a pair of slacks. The typical French bob had grown out in the months since Christine had first seen her, a bit past the woman's shoulders, and her dark eyes blinked curiously.

No wonder, considering that they had only glimpsed each other in Paris, but never officially met.

"E...are you, Elita?" Christine asked, feeling suddenly detached and dreamy. Her rival looked like any other woman, not the hated witch Christine had conjured whenever the woman's name entered her mind.

The woman stood still for a moment, absorbing her words. "_Oui_. Come, come." She said, ushering Christine into the suite.

Erik was nowhere in sight, though she recognized a jacket of his that had been hung on the back of a chair. She stepped inside, a crushing dread filling her completely. She turned around once she heard Elita close the door. If Elita was here, sharing a room with Erik...

_Oh God, this is humiliating!_

Christine swallowed again, forcing herself not to reveal the emotional storm that was beginning to stir within her chest. "So...so it is you."

Elita raised a brow, obviously trying hard to understand what Christine was saying, though English had never been her strongest language. "Yes, it is me, I am Elita. Do I know you?"

"No. No, not really. I, um, is Erik...?"

A realization hit Elita, Christine watched as her dark eyes widened and her lips parted. "_Mon Dieu_, you are Christine?"

"Yes, Christine Daae." She nodded, feeling awkward. It was so strange, to be face to face with the woman she'd thought of as an enemy for so long.

Elita raised her chin. "Ah, so now you know? Has Erik told you?"

"He...there were letters..." Christine followed her as she moved further into the suite.

"_Oui, oui_, he and his writing, always writing!" Her manicured hands fluttered for a moment like odd butterflies. When she spoke again, Elita's tone was nearly accusing. "He heard nothing from you for months. He was worried."

Guilt swept down, and Christine's cheeks flamed at the reminder. Still, is was not Elita that she had come to see. "Well, I was...I'm sorry, is Erik here?"

Elita nodded. "Yes, in bed with Nicole."

"What?"

"He's just inside, asleep I think. Or he might be awake, just watching her. He does that often." Elita gestured to the closed door across the room, then took a seat and motioned for Christine to do the same across from her. "Christine, I believe that you and I have things to discuss."


	30. The Truth

**3 Months Ago**

There had been a time when Elita had thought she loved Erik, and harbored the secret wish of being more than just his lover. There were frequent daydreams of becoming his wife, visions of the two of them retiring to the country to start a family. Those dreams ended soon after their affair ended; with the lovemaking, Elita had realized that she had simply needed Erik as a man. She had been weak, and given in to her attraction to him. Erik had done the same, he had given her what she'd needed.

Their few days spent together had been a sort of adventure to them both; exciting, irresistible, supremely satisfying. Elita had been depressed after the death of her mother, and Erik had been able to offer her the comfort only a man could provide. She loved him for it, but that was the extent of her feelings. Elita loved him now as a close and very dear friend.

Through circumstances bigger than themselves, they were family now.

Elita described for Christine in great detail the day that Nicole had been born.

The birth had been induced at her doctor's insistence. Being a Frenchwoman, Elita had her pride to consider, and had asked both Erik and David to remain in the waiting room while she gave birth. Her attitude was typical to France, so neither man protested her decision; she did not wish to be seen in so vulnerable a state, not even by the father of her child.

As Elita had pushed, David and Erik had paced. The two men had been in similar states of upset since Elita had intimated that her child's paternity was in question. Erik's position in the world held great consequence to any child he might have, this child in particular. The prospect of fatherhood had been dropped on him, with barely a month to adjust to the idea. Still, Elita admired his calm acceptance, though she felt sure he was a nervous wreck just beneath his veneer of control.

As for David, he had admitted to Elita his growing love for her months ago, and Elita had confided that she felt the same way for him. He had even gone so far as to promise he'd marry her, and assured her that they would raise the baby together, no matter who the child's true father came to be. Elita loved David for his good intentions, but she could not keep the child from Erik if the baby was of his blood.

The birth had been difficult, but not insurmountable.

It took several hours, but finally, Nicole had come into the world.

Once the newborn had been cleaned and assured of good health, Elita had held her daughter. The tiny body was so light, swathed in a bright pink blanket with a cap covering the girl's dark hair. It was her eyes, so dark and still, that captivated Elita. Nicole stared at her, absorbing the sight of her mother for the first time. A great, powerful swell of emotion came over Elita then; a joy so intense it was painful, tinged with a despair that her own mother would never see the baby.

"I love you, I love you." Tears had already begun to track down her face, and for once Elita cared nothing about her appearance. All she could see was this child, this perfect face. She kissed the baby then, on her round cheeks and over her forehead. An idea occurred to her, the one thing she and the child's prospective fathers had never discussed.

A name.

Nicole, Elita's mother.

The name fit perfectly, Elita's resolve cemented. The baby's last name and middle name were still unclaimed, but her first name would be Nicole.

The men had been allowed to enter soon after Elita announced to her doctor that she was ready. They'd entered cautiously, unused to the surroundings and perhaps uncomfortable. David had moved to her side first and kissed Elita's forehead. "How are you?"

She'd smiled at the question. "Exhausted. Happy. Do you want to see her?"

Erik had made it to the other side of her bed, his eyes wet and his mouth set in a grim line. Both Elita and David understood- Erik had no family, such situations were foreign to him. All the same, he moved forward to look at the baby. Elita cradled the newborn and revealed her face to the men. Small, dark eyes met with Erik's, and he felt his hands begin to shake.

Elita had never seen Erik so lost for words, not even on the night when she'd come to him and told him of his possible fatherhood. She'd noticed he began to reach forward to the baby, but stopped himself and kept his hands at his side. Was he afraid to touch the child?

The girl looked first at Erik and then to David. The other man smiled and reached to stroke the soft, plump little cheek with the back of his fingers. "Hello pretty girl, pretty girl...Elita, have you thought of a name?"

She smiled to David, feeling her heart nearly bursting with love. She'd had an idea of what it would be to be a mother, but the reality of it was overwhelming. "Nicole."

"Nicole?" Erik had asked.

Elita nodded. "After my mother."

Neither man would dare protest her choice.

_What's in a name...?_

"Have you chosen a middle name yet?" David had asked.

"No. I'll let her father choose."

Both men had nodded their understanding. The test would need to be done soon, the sooner the better.

It was no secret between the three of them that David was eager to marry Elita, and if Nicole was his daughter, he would be overjoyed to begin a life with the woman he loved and the child they'd made. He was a younger man, closer in age to Elita, and he had grown up with simple tastes. He loved Elita and did not blame her for anything regarding te child- he thought she was brave for the honesty she'd shown, a lesser woman might have simply lied to get to Erik's money, but Elita had been honest with them both.

He had a house where he intended the three of them to settle once he and Elita were married; whether Nicole was truly his daughter or not was moot- like Erik, he'd fallen in love with the baby at first sight. Father or stepfather, he didn't care, so long as the child was happy.

Thankfully, David had not been overly upset once the truth of Nicole's paternity had been revealed, days later. Erik admired David's levelheaded acceptance, he didn't know that he would be able to do the same if the situation had been reversed. Perhaps David was just a better man than him.

There was no bitterness to infect the men; a family was a family, and Nicole was all that mattered now.

Erik came into the hospital room, days after the birth of his daughter. The test had been a mere formality; Elita claimed that the child resembled Erik, though he could only find a similarity between mother and daughter. Using a bit of pull, the hospital staff conducted a fast, simple test to ensure a blood connection between the baby and Erik. The result should have come at no surprise to him; there was no resemblence to David, his Moroccan heritage did not show in the child's features.

Erik was the father- there was no fighting over the fact, no arguments over trivial matters. Custody arangements and timetables could wait.

There was only love between this new family.

Upon learning of the baby's paternity, Elita and Erik had laughed themselves into hysterics over the way their lives had become connected. Erik knew nothing of children, a nurse even had to show him the proper way to hold Nicole. He was embarassed to be caught out as ignorant to newborns, and determined to learn as much as he was able.

"How did this happen?" Erik had once asked of her. It had been their last day at the hospital, and Elita had been checking her messages when Erik had murmered the question. She had looked up, across the hospital room, to watch as Erik cradled their baby near the window. His voice was warm, quiet and amazed.

She smiled to see him touch the baby's cheek. She wondered if he'd ever held anything with such care as he held their daughter.

"I think you remember how this happened very well, Erik." She teased. Elita sat up in the bed, holding her arms out for the child.

Erik had come closer and handed over the sleeping baby, though his reluctance was obvious. He sighed slightly and sat down at the foot of the bed, facing her. Fascinated, he watched as Elita cooed to the baby, humming a sweet song. He nodded. "I remember. I think I'm in love, Elita! I feel like a new man, so happy when I'm with her. I could never regret this."

"I would hope not. There's no way out now." Elita paused. "You have not written these past few days."

Erik looked up from Nicole, to Elita. Of course she had noticed his depression of the past month, since Christine had left him. Since then Elita had watched as he'd written letter after letter, only to receive silence in return. Erik took a deep breath, smiling again. It was a small smile, and somewhat sad. "I...Christine does not wish to speak to me again, she's made that plain enough. She has moved on with her life, and now, so will I."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." Erik took her hand. "I don't regret any of this, Elita. I only regret that Christine was hurt. This is not how I would have had this happen, but now that it's done I wouldn't have things any other way."

* * *

"He doesn't regret what has happened, merely how it happened, you see?" Elita explained. 

Christine sat across from Elita in the suite's main room, feeling terribly selfish to have intruded upon Erik's family. She lowered her eyes. "Erik shouldn't have to feel regret over making a family. This is what he's always wanted."

Elita reached over to pat Christine's hand in a sisterly way. "He feels no regret for us, girl, Erik's regret comes from you. _'The only thing I regret is how_ _this has hurt Christine.'_, Erik has told me this many times. What did you think? That he enjoyed the time after you ran away and hid from him?"

"I don't know." Christine said quickly, defensively. "I thought that he and you were..."

Elita looked up. "What, married?"

Christine nodded.

"Oh, he asked out of custom, but of course I refused. Your Shaliman customs are strange to me- why bother to marry? Because we have a child? Ridiculous! Of course, children should come from marriage, but I love David, not Erik. Not anymore, at least. I don't know if I ever truly loved him, not in the way he deserves. I just needed him as a man for a time, and he was there for me."

Christine nearly dropped the small coffee cup she'd been holding. "You mean, you and Erik aren't-?"

Elita raised a perfectly arched brow. "Married, no. I care for him, of course, how could I not? I have known him for years, but I do not love him."

"But...but, then why are you here?" Christine sputtered, her mind racing.

Seemingly carefree, Elita shrugged. "In New York, you mean?"

Christine nodded, hardly believing what she'd just learned.

"Oh, Erik refuses to be away from the baby, and so do I. So, he offered to bring me with him. I have a separate suite, just next door." Elita added. "Erik prefers to stay in with Nicole, while I love this city- the shopping alone is superb!"

Christine felt as if her head was spinning. In his letters, Erik had never mentioned his arrangement with Elita, that the baby was his, or that he was coming back to America...his writings to her were endless apologies for the way things had ended between them in Paris, pleas that she respond to him, and the promise that he would tell her everything when they met once again.

She understood now. Erik had never been one to reveal things over the telephone or through the impersonal means of an e-mail. That was why he'd come directly to her after receiving the letter from her father those months age; Erik believed that important things must be said face to face.

Christine swallowed the hard, growing lump of emotion building in her throat. _God, he must hate me for ignoring him for so long!_

"Elita...I'd like to thank you for telling me all this. May I see Erik now?"

Elita nodded. "_Oui_, would you prefer that I announce you or would you like to let yourself into the room?"

"You don't have to announce me." Christine said, thinking how stiff and formal it would appear if she did.

The Frenchwoman winked at her. "I understand, I'm sure the temptation to catch Erik off-guard for once is a strong one. I've tried it myself but the man knows me too well, I can't surprise him anymore!"

Christine smiled weakly and stood, heading towards the bedroom.

* * *

Erik stared at the ceiling, only half-awake after spending most of the night going over the manuscript that Gabriel had nearly finished before his death. The memoirs were less of an autobiography and as he read, Erik began to see that Gabriel had written more of a fiction novel about his time in the Shaliman palace. His friend had gone into deep detail describing the land and people, painting Erik as an interesting character- some shadowy, mysterious man always working and scheming behind the scenes. 

He couldn't say he disapproved of the depiction. In fact Erik found himself liking it more with every page. With careful editing to ensure that certain things regarding Shalimar remained secret, Erik didn't see any reason why Gabriel's writing wouldn't be released first by Shaliman and then, once translated, by American publishers. It was fortunate that Gabriel had written the manuscript in Shaliman- where Erik's speaking skills in English were paltry at best, he was lost when it came to reading the language.

His eyes were exhausted from long hours of reading, and his mind was drifting in and out of sleep, but Erik felt very content. He was sitting up slightly, his back leaning against pillows piled against the headboard. Nicole was asleep on his chest, curled over him like some charming feline. His hand was resting over her back to ensure that she would not awake and squirm away from him. A small smile touched his lips as he heard her coo slightly in her sleep.

Was there ever a more pleasing sound?

Erik yawned and stretched slightly, careful not to awaken the baby. He treasured his time alone with Nicole, especially the lazy napping hours when she was quiet and still. Nicole was an athletic child when she wanted to be, and though she was very young, she had already began to roll over and was showing signs of an intent to crawl.

_Don't grow up too fast, my love_.

He cleared his throat as quietly as he could, and raised a hand to rub over his tired face. He cared nothing for the scars any longer- they did not frighten Nicole, that was all that mattered to him. Erik opened his eyes and glanced over to the nightstand, where he'd left his mask the night before. Elita knew of his scars, but he still kept the habit of covering his face when she was about. Thankfully he hadn't had to wear it much at night, as she let him have Nicole to himself.

Erik shifted and glanced down to find that Nicole was awake, staring at him. He smiled and kissed her cheeks. Erik moved up the bed, and propped Nicole's back against his knees so that she was sitting on his lap, facing him. "Hello Nicole," he greeted her. The baby only smiled and reached her hands out. Erik tickled her belly and let her hold onto his fingers. The strength of her little hands always amazed him.

She bounced slightly and tried to suck on his finger, but Erik pulled his hand free. "No, no, I'll bring you lunch in just a few minutes. My hands are off the menu." Erik rubbed her belly and took the time to absorb her face. He'd taken endless pictures of Nicole already, but all the same Erik never tired of seeing her face.

Father and daughter watched each other, an unofficial staring contest. Nicole's skin was darker than his own, she had inherited Elita's olive complexion, along with her mother's brown hair and eyes. Erik was happy for the fact; he felt equally glad and worried that Nicole would be so pretty once she grew up. He dreaded the thought of his daughter catching the eye of boys, and then later, men.

Erik had had the time to wonder, to dread and to anticipate all that would occur once Nicole grew up. He didn't want this to end, the timelessness his daughter had brought into his life, the simple pleasure of being herself, purely sweet and happy.

_Well. You will grow up, nothing I can do will prevent that, but for now..._

He tickled her belly again, delighting when she laughed out loud.

Erik could hear Elita speaking English in the other room, though he thought nothing of it. She might just be practicing, or even ordering room service. Erik himself was long out of practice in the language, and had forgotten nearly everything he'd learned, but he had interpreters along with his posse of bodyguards and rarely had to speak with anyone.

He shrugged to himself and took Nicole by the feet, lifting her until she hung upside down. It was one of the sillier games they played when Elita was out of sight; she was a wonderful mother, but overworried that Erik might accidentally hurt the baby. He hadn't yet, of course, and it wasn't as if Nicole was made of glass!

Nicole laughed as Erik gently swung her, and then set her back onto the bed once more. She kicked her feet and waved her arms, making Erik smile again. There she was, his daughter. _His daughter!_

Erik lifted her into his hands and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, tipping her back. She laughed at the sensation of being near upside-down once more, and Erik started to tease her, "Don't fall, don't fall!" He would then lift her upright, only to slowly tip her backward again.

This was a game his mother had told him she'd played with him when he was a baby. There were few things he could remember her telling him, but he intended to carry on the things he could recall.

The door to his room opened and Erik glanced up to see Christine in the doorway, watching him.


	31. Reunion

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the long wait between updates, but it's been a busy month for me! Working full time, going to school full time, and I just moved across the city (what a lot of fun that was, ugh!) so please excuse me. Read, review and enjoy!**

* * *

Christine stared at Erik. 

Erik stared back at Christine.

Between them, and still tipped upside down, was Nicole.

It was awkward.

Nicole laughed and kicked her feet, breaking the spell. Erik ticked his head to the side, and lifted Nicole, turning his attention away from Christine. The baby cooed and laughed, but for the first time she did not possess Erik's entire and intense attention. He turned his back to the doorway, and set Nicole back against the pillows so that she might sit up in the usual position when she was not being held.

Erik called out for Elita, still keeping his back turned to Christine, blocking Nicole from her sight. Never had he felt so vulnerable; for Christine to simply walk in on him during such an intimate time, to see him unmasked and unburdened with his child...

His stomach was in sudden knots, his heart beating a furious pulse through his chest. Had she been anyone else, perhaps even Elita, he might have snapped at her, but Christine's presence was unnerving to him. To see her now, after so much had happened, was very bizarre.

They were not who they were those months ago in Paris, those few precious days.

Elita appeared a moment later from the main room. She quirked a dark brow at Christine and moved past her, into the room with an elegant authority, to stand beside Erik over their daughter.

Erik reached for his mask and slipped it on. Christine saw what he did and felt her heart sink; his shock was nothing less than what she expected, but his action hurt all the same. His scars were nothing to her- did he think she would become repulsed now, after so long a time had separated them once again?

Christine watched as Erik lowered his head slightly to speak to Elita, both of them with their backs facing the door. She was beginning to feel slightly irritated, as if they were trying to guard some great secret from her. Curious, she wanted a closer look at the child but she supposed that would be Erik's decision, the _if _and the _when_.

There was a quick exchange in French and then Elita bent to bundle their daughter up in a blanket and swiftly left the room, leaving Christine and Erik alone.

Erik turned finally, seemingly taller than Christine remembered, and she saw his jaw muscles tense just beneath the edge of the mask. He wore the plain black face again, hiding all but his eyes and part of his mouth; she had forgotten how intimdating he could appear when he hid the warmth from his eyes, appearing stoic and soulless, not the man she knew him to be.

"Shall we step outside?" Erik asked. His voice was careful and low then, coaxing, but not demanding.

Christine nodded, almost dreading what he would have to say, but eager to speak with him all the same.

Erik stepped past her, to the door of the suite. "Come. We can speak on the roof." He held the door open for her, and followed Christine out of the suite.

* * *

"So Nicole is your daughter." Christine stated once they'd made it to the roof. They had walked side by side in silence, neither risking a glance at the other. Perhaps they were both in slight shock to see each other again, so abruptly and in such awkward circumstances. 

Outside there was an observation deck, offerring the view of New York.

Erik continued walking past her, and leaned his arms onto the nearest railing. Christine followed him to the railing and looked out over the city with him. They had shared the same view several months ago, when Christine had visited him in his hotel room to discuss her father and the prospect of his finding a wife, a lifetime ago now.

Strange familiarity descended on them both.

Erik took a deep breath, and could not hide the pride in his voice. "Yes. My daughter."

Chrisine nodded beside him. More than anything, she felt off-balance. Painful subjects would be brought up, there was no way to avoid the discussion. "Erik...I read your letters..."

The man turned to her then, his golden eyes on fire. "You read my letters. All ten of them? And my e-mails, I'm sure you read all of those as well. And listened to my telephone messages. I'm sure the things I wrote to you must have seemed very amusing." He was upset, however his voice betrayed no anger. Erik was gifted at hiding his feelings. To any outsider, he appeared calm, his voice level and controlled.

Christine shook her head. "No, Erik, you don't understand-"

"What is there for me to understand? You left me in Paris, and I couldn't very well run after you- not with Elita in her condition. You must have known I wouldn't follow you, and that's why you left. I tried to contact you and my every attempt was ignored. You made things quite clear to me, Christine." Erik sighed then, long and heavy. "With the situation, I can understand."

"I didn't want to see what you wrote. I was afraid the first thing you wrote would be a wedding announcement." Christine said quietly. The truth was emerging between them, as determined as they could allow.

"I didn't tell you the child's name- Elita has told you everything, hasn't she?" Erik asked, recalling Christine's first question about his daughter.

Christine nodded.

Erik shrugged. "For a Frenchwoman, she lacks discretion in certain areas of conversation. It was not her place to tell you anything. She told you Nicole's name, and she must have told you more than just that. She told you of my proposal?"

"Yes."

He gave a bland half-smile, both smug and regretful. "I told you she would refuse me. She isn't an ex-lover bent on revenge, she didn't want to...to ruin things between us. In the end I suppose that she didn't have to." Erik laughed a little then, and looked away from her, to the city below. "I asked her to marry me and she laughed in my face. David had beat me to the punch, she said. He'd proposed a day before me. They'll be married in the spring, I think."

"Erik-"

"Your hair's different." He said, turning to look back at her. His eyes were bright, looking at her as if he had suddenly seen her for the fist time. His hands started forward to touch her razored chocolate locks, but he stopped and kept his hands at his side.

Christine nodded and touched her hair, smiling slightly at the shorter length. "I know. I just needed a change."

Erik nodded and there was silence between them for a time as they stared out over the city again, content to simply stand together and absorb the day.

"She's a beautiful baby." Christine said. That she had barely glanced Nicole was immaterial- she was Erik's child, of course she was beautiful.

Erik smiled slightly beside her, trying to maintain his subtle nature, but there was no hiding the genuine pride and the new love in his voice. "Thank you. You know I've always wanted children, Christine, but I never knew what it was to be a father until..." He caught himself there, and thought better of it. "Nevermind. Why have you come, Christine? I had assumed after everything I did, that you would be happy never to see me again."

"No, Erik, I...I just had to get away, to think everything over. If I'd read your letters, I knew I wouldn't be able to make any choices with a clear head. I just dove into my career for a time, driving Belinda crazy in the process." Christine smiled to herself. "I just had to be by myself. I could see that you were falling in love with the idea of becoming a father, even if you couldn't. I was jealous, Erik. Jealous! I didn't want you to feel that you would have to make a choice between me and the baby. I had to get away for both our sakes."

Erik understood what she was saying, but he had been hurt by her refusal nonetheless. There was no want for petty arguments or bitterness now. He had hurt her, and deserved to be hurt in return. "I do understand. Perhaps it was for the best. It's been months, and with everything that's happened, I've had so much time to think over the past. I've thought about my family, my position, Nicole...I've thought about you too, Christine."

He turned to her then, the sun lighting up his eyes. Even as she stood, Christine felt mesmerized. She was silent. Erik came closer.

"You said you needed a change. More than a haircut, but something else I think. What has happened to you since Paris?"

Christine broke the eye contact with him, needing to take a step back. It was not Erik's fault- simply, his presence could become overwhelming. She took a breath and turned her eyes to the city below. "Some things have changed, Erik. After I left you in Paris I was just awful to Belinda every time she urged me to talk to you. I was trying to forget, in a way. Not to forget you, exactly, but to forget what happened between us."

His voice was quiet and low from somewhere behind her. "I knew that I was wrong to take your virginity. A better man would have married you first. You deserved better, Christine."

The girl rounded on him, her hands clamping on his upper arms. "That's not what I meant and you know it, Erik! I wouldn't take back that night for anything in the world. I meant everything that happened after. I chose you, and gave myself to you, and once you told me about Elita...I knew that I wouldn't be strong enough to stand by with you marrying Elita. I couldn't be with you for another full month just to watch you propose to another woman- I thought Elita would accept."

"I told you she would not. Elita does not want me."

"I didn't know if I could believe you, Erik. I didn't know what to think. I thought she might have become pregnant on purpose just to get to your wealth, to enjoy the status a connection with you could provide- mother to the child of a former king!You had been hoping to see her again, you said you were considering her as your future wife- I remember, you mentioned that the first day we'd arrived to Paris." Christine explained further, to illustrate her reasoning.

Erik nodded, moving his hands to envelope hers. "I know. That was before you and I...she came to see me when you had gone off to see your cousin. When things between us began to change, I did not think of her. Before the night she came to me, I had had no idea of our child."

She pulled her hands from his, to cross her arms before her chest. "I believe you about that, but I truly thought you would marry her. I understand you better now, Erik. I knew that, for Shalimar, you would marry Elita. To uphold the customs in the eye of the world, I knew that you would willingly be with her."

He nodded. "You know me too well, Christine. I've fought my own heritage for so long, but no matter what I do, I will always be Shaliman. Somehow in my kingship I fell in love with the people of that country. After repairing the damage Bhaskar caused, I became some strange new beacon of integrity to them." Erik's voice became self-depricating. "Some beacon! My life has been a wreck since the day my mother brought me before the king when I was a child. If the people knew me as I truly am, there would be riots in the streets. The least I can do is prevent history repeating itself with Nicole."

Christine frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Erik cleared his throat. "I'm taking Elita and Nicole to Shalimar soon, for the abdication. That she is my daughter is not to be made public. I'd look like a fool to have been rejected by Elita, and truly, I fear what could happen if the people learn that another of their kings has had an illegitament child." He confessed.

Christine turned to look back at him. "When people learned of you...?"

"Yes. I was too young to understand at the time, but the longer I stayed in Shalimar the better I understood. My mother's death was no accident..." Erik's mind had seemed to drift for a moment, but he ticked his head and returned to the original subject. "When we go to Shalimar, I cannot in any way act as a father towards Nicole. David will be there- he and Elita will be the only parents to her. As far as anyone will know, they are simply my friends who I have invited for the ceremony. The abdication will take several days, but I am determined to ensure that things will go as quickly as possible."

"And what will you do after you have abdicated?"

"We will return to France and I will finally be able to have my own life. No more customs, no more rigid social tradition, no more scrutiny. Life will be simple. It will be me and Nicole."

"Don't forget your extended family, Erik. You and Nicole. And Elita. And David."

"And in a perfect world, you. But I know better than to hope for more than I deserve."

Christine paused at his words. "How can you say that?"

His lips quirked in a forced sad smile. "I am a glutton for punishment."

"Erik...I don't know what to say. Things are so different now."

"I know. If I could, I think I would take it all back. I should not have invited you to Paris with me- I was selfish, I wanted you to myself. I never should have...I ruined things, and I hurt you. I am sorry, Christine." Emotion, subtle and deep, was seeping into his words.

Christine shook her head, dreading what she would do if Erik were to put his arms around her. "I was hurt but it's not your fault, Erik. You can't apologize for your daughter and you never should. I know you love her- I knew you loved her before she was born."

"I do love her, more than I thought it was possible. Fatherhood has in a way opened my eyes to how awful a man I was before she came into my life. Selfish, manipulative. I had no right to demand the things of you that I did, I had no right to touch you." Erik said. His voice was low and regretful, devoid of any deceit.

Tears were beginning to sting Christine's eyes; the stress of this reuinion was taking its toll. So many new truths, so many old wounds. "You knew I loved you. Not at first, but later, when things became more intense between us. It was when you told me that you wanted me- not as your friend, but as a woman. Things changed, and I gave in to the truth, that I'd loved you since the day we met."

"The day we met, you were six years old!" Erik groused, always uncomfortable with her mentions of love when they knew each other in Shalimar.

"And how old do you have to be to fall in love?" Christine challenged. "You're a grown man and you've never been in love in your life!"

"You are wrong. I loved you, in my way. None of it matters now, all that matters is where we go from here." He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, but his hands remained at his side.

Christine felt her heart dip within her chest. Erik had loved her, but his was a mourning, regretful love. Somehow, this admission pained her more greatly than his indifference. "Where is there to go? You said yourself that you were leaving for Shalimar and then to France."

"Come with us." Erik said suddenly. "Kalila should come as well- I am going to approve Gabriel's memoirs and I will have an advisor deliver the manuscript to a publishing house in Shalimar. From there it will be further developed into a novel with several of his photographs included. I think his daughter and wife should be there. It seems only right."

Christine shook her head and gave an exhausted laugh, swiping at a tear that had escaped down her cheek. "And how convenient that you offer this invitation to me with the way things are between us!"

Beside her, the man shrugged. "I only just thought of it. Come to Shalimar, Christine. See your old friend Kumar take the crown. We met in the Shaliman palace. Perhaps it is only fitting that we say our final goodbyes there as well."


	32. Subtlety

Christine felt dazed after speaking with Erik; not so much from what was said, but from the deep change that the man had undergone since she had last seen him. He was more guarded with her than he had been before. A new gravity had descended upon him, anchoring his heart. The heavy responsibility of fatherhood weighed on him, the new love for Nicole was in his every word and motion; however, the man had not removed his mask, and he could not hide his obvious regret.

Yes, Erik regretted the pain and turmoil he'd caused in Christine's life, but what could be done to repair the damage he'd caused? Erik did not know, and he wasn't sure his efforts would matter to the girl. Christine had ignored him for months, refusing his every attempt at contact, only to show up in his hotel suite after so long a silence.

Erik didn't know what to make of her actions. What did she want from him? The girl was not forthcoming with answers, leaving Erik in the dark over the significance of their reunion. He understood her reasoning, that the possibility of him marrying Elita would have been too great a pain- but Elita had rejected his proposal with a laugh just as he knew she would. It had become a sort of joke between them now.

He had blurted the invitation to Shalimar without thinking things through; true, Gabriel's memoirs would be published as a novel, but Christine and Kalila didn't have to be present for that to happen. He wanted them to be a part of the process, to see the man's work come to life, in Erik's way of thinking it would be right if they were to assist in the process. Christine had expressed to him a wish to return to Shalimar during their time in Paris, she held so many fond memories of the palace, and the timing seemed right even when the circumstances were anything but.

He, Nicole and Elita would be in America for only another two days before flying first to Shalimar for the abdication and then on to settle back in France. Erik held no delusions where Christine was concerned. After the way things had ended in Paris, he could not allow himself to believe that Christine would wish to be with him in any way again- the voyage to Shalimar would not serve him as a way to take up his intimate relationship with the girl again- there was no picking up where they left off, considering Christine had left him so abruptly.

Erik would not attempt to coax or seduce her; his only motivation was to mend the bridge between them.

* * *

Erik led Christine back to his suite in near silence; she frowned at his back. Christine wasn't sure what she'd expected, but this downhearted version of the man she knew was not it. His invitation to Shalimar had been unexpected, and Christine had been too stunned to answer. 

Go back to Shalimar with Erik? To see the palace and the people again...to retrace the steps of her childhood...the memories of her father...

The temptation was powerful, and when coupled with Erik's invitation for her stepmother, the temptation only grew stronger. Kalila had not shown her father's manuscript to her- the woman had gone to Erik first, going so far as insisting that he come all the way to America simply to review the work. He would not have come had it not been for Kalila- perhaps the two of them would never have spoken again.

Christine wanted to see Shalimar again, but in all truth she feared Erik's intention. Would he go this far in hopes of having her back in his bed?

She thought she knew the man so well, but Erik was more complicated that she had ever expected.

He opened the door and they stepped into the suite to find Elita bouncing Nicole on her lap. They both looked up and smiled at their entrance. Elita spoke to Erik first in French, "Ah, Erik, your timing is perfect. It is nearly one, and David will be calling me soon. Please, take Nicole for me, will you?"

Erik nodded and moved forward to take the squirming baby from her.

Elita smiled to see the man's eyes light on the face of his daughter- after Christine had left him in Paris, a new dourness had settled over him that Elita had never seen before. After the realization of his fatherhood, Nicole was the only thing that could break Erik's pervasive gloom. She started at the sudden chirping of her cell phone and smiled once she saw the name **David** flashing on the tiny screen.

Elita winked at Christine and strode out the door, headed toward her own room.

Christine waved to her as she left, slightly confused, and turned back to see Erik on the couch with Nicole sitting securely in his lap.

She watched as Erik smiled and allowed the baby to grasp his fingers, realizing that she had never seen Erik with such a young child before. A man of few friends, there had never been cause for him to be placed with a child. Now, he had a baby of his own. To see him with Nicole in this way was heart wrenching in its simple beauty.

Christine found herself blinking rapidly as her chest swelled.

Erik looked up to her. "Have a seat, Christine, if you care to meet my daughter."

He seemed calmer, lighter now that he was with Nicole. A new pride gleamed in the bright eyes behind the mask.

Wordlessly, Christine did as he asked and took a seat beside him on the small sofa. Erik lifted Nicole from his lap and sat her between them, leaning her back against the cushions. He moved back slightly, so that Christine might have a closer look at the child.

She had called the baby beautiful earlier, when they had been alone together on the roof. Now, Christine felt a strong kick of maternal envy; their daughter was lovely. Nicole stared at Christine with dark, steady eyes. Coffee brown, with a subtle flash of Erik's gold. Darker brown hair sprouted from the baby's crown, longer than she'd expected of one so young. The child's skin was much darker than Erik's, though a few shades lighter than her mother's.

"She looks like Elita." Erik said quietly, as the child turned from Christine to look at him. Erik smiled down to her and held out his hand, just out of Nicole's reach. He did this often, a silent encouragement for her to start crawling. The baby leaned forward on her hands, rocking her body slightly in an effort to move to him.

Erik smiled at Nicole's determination, but she was simply too young to crawl just yet. He supposed it was just as well, she would crawl when she was ready.

"She looks a little like you, too." Christine said, feeling slightly awkward. "There's a little of you in the color of her eyes."

Erik glanced up. "Me? If there is, I cannot see it. I hope she might come to resemble my mother some day."

Christine shifted her weight. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I don't know what your mother looked like."

"I know, you never met her. She was gone before Gabriel brought you to Shalimar. Even if there is no resemblance to my mother, Nicole's middle name- my mother's name, Adelle- will go on. That's enough for me." Erik said as he watched Nicole attempt to hold herself forward on her arms.

Christine observed the man's fascination with the child. She was proud of him, somehow, for being able to show the child such love. It was strange to see Erik in this new light of fatherhood, being gentle and affectionate. Wonderful, but still strange.

"Does Kumar know about her?" Christine asked. As Erik was still the king, Nicole could be seen as a threat to the Shaliman throne. She had been friends with Kumar during all her time in Shalimar, and she knew the love he had for his brother- but when it came to the grasp of power, family ties could be dissolved in an instant.

Erik paused and looked up. "He does know, but the circle is tight- we cannot allow this secret to be leaked to anyone that may use the fact to upset the abdication. I am through being the king, the crown rightfully belongs to Kumar. I'll not let it be taken from him to be placed on Nicole's head."

Christine nodded. "What will you do with her when you get to Shalimar?"

He shifted his weight slightly. "David will arrive the day after we do, and he understands the situation. He and Elita are already engaged, and he adores Nicole so it will be no difficulty for him to assume the role of her true father when I cannot. As for me, well, I can't say I'm looking forward to having to ignore her during the day, but I will still see her for a while at night." Erik said, shrugging.

"That will be terrible for you both."

Erik looked away from her. "Yes. But it is necessary for her protection. She can't understand this...she is too young to understand much of anything, I think."

Christine dropped her gaze to the baby and nodded. "I guess so, though Nicole seems pretty smart."

Nicole turned to look at Christine just then; royal politics were beyond her young mind, but she apparently recognized her own name.

"Of course she is smart!" Erik started, pride dripping from his words. "Elita and I were in the top of our classes, we're both students of the arts and government- Nicole will be able to speak three languages when she's older and will attend the top schools that France has to offer. We will ensure that she reaches her greatest potential."

Christine laughed at his assertion, accidentally slipping into English. "It sounds like you two have everything all planned out for her!"

Elita stepped into the suite to hear her comment, and snapped her cell phone closed. "Of course we do, we are French. We like to have everything set ahead; this way, moments of passion and spontaneity are more pleasurable."

Erik frowned, not understanding her English. Winking, Elita quickly repeated the same thought to him in French. Erik then nodded his agreement, making a mental note to start his English lessons again. He didn't like being excluded from their conversation, and if Elita was to teach Nicole English, he determined to learn as well.

Elita turned to Christine. "You know this city much better than I do- will you help me? I wish to find the perfect outfit for Erik's ceremony. Being a model, you must know the best spots for couture."

Christine was no fool as to what Elita was doing, trying to get her alone so they could speak privately, but she agreed anyway.

The two bid Erik and Nicole a swift goodbye and slipped away from the hotel, much to his chagrin. Elita was determined to find an outfit fit for the king, and Christine's mind swam with impossibility. The two women hit their stride on the slick sidewalks of the city, side by side, not speaking but content with the companionable silence.

Elita could not stop herself from looking at this young woman that had so captivated her friend. Sure enough, the girl was beautiful and well turned-out. Erik had a reputation for high standards when it came to his few and far between lovers, so Elita often felt a bit of pride for having been included into such a select group. Not that she would ever mention this to David, of course.

Being French, she had an eye for detail, particularly with beautiful things and people. She had only glimpsed Christine in Paris for barely a moment, and had forgotten the girl completely in all the turmoil of the following weeks; however, Erik's depression had led her to a quick Internet search to satisfy her curiosity.

That Erik was in love, or as close to love as he'd ever been (Elita wouldn't bother to presume anything about the inner workings of the man's heart), left Elita to a road of guilt. Christine would not have left, after all, if she had informed Erik about the baby in some other way, rather than showing up to his apartment.

Erik was a friend to her and more when she needed him as a man, it had not been in Elita's design to drive Christine away. She blamed herself for causing the rift between them, and thought of a way to mend the bridge.

"Christine, you'll get a wrinkle if you don't sop frowning in that way." Elita's voice broke into Christine's thoughts.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, it's just-"

"A day of revelations, yes, I know. I am sure that I will hear no end of it tonight from him." Elita said off-handedly. "I doubt he was pleased I told you so much, he wanted to tell you himself. Forgive me, but I felt I had a right to tell you the situation between Erik and I."

Christine shook her head. "No, I understand. Nicole is beautiful, and I'm sure that you're proud enough to tell everyone about her."

Elita shrugged. "Well, everyone in France. I am not to speak of her true father once we get to Shalimar. It's just as well, I suppose. Erik fears that something might happen, and after what happened to him I can understand his fear. So Nicole will have David and I for the most part during our stay. David doesn't mind, he and I plan to have a few children of our own once we're married." The older woman explained easily.

Christine smiled slightly, warming to the other woman. "Elita...you speak about this so casually."

The woman beside her shrugged. "Ah, yes. Spend more time in France and you will realize that we hold few things as taboo. A past lover and I now have a child, and so what? The only thing that matters now is that Nicole is loved and raised by those around her."

Christine supposed that Elita had a point, though she wasn't convinced that things were as easy as Elita seemed to suggest. "And Erik? What does he think?"

"What does he think about what?"

Christine worked her hands, "This whole situation. I had thought he would marry you to prevent the baby from being born out of wedlock. Even though Erik is French, he's been raised in those formal Shaliman traditions, not to mention that he was illegitimate to Bhaskar. These things matter to him. How does he explain his daughter to the people who ask?"

It was a curiosity to Christine, how Erik had taken being thrown into fatherhood. Elita seemed willing to talk about anything she asked, and Christine's voracious mind was open to all questions. Elita pointed to a cafe and Christine followed her inside; they took a corner table and ordered.

Elita sighed slightly as she sipped. The coffee wasn't bad, for an American brew.

_Only a few more days before we are back home in Paris, and I will be able to have _real _coffee again!_

She looked up to Christine, who was still after an answer. Elita smiled. "Ah, Erik has made several adjustments since learning of the baby. He remodeled the guest room of his loft into a nursery, very tasteful in pinks and golds. Perfect for our Nicole." She beamed.

Christine smiled back, trying to imagine Erik agonizing over the perfect shade of pink for his daughter's room.

Elita continued, "We all find the time to spend together, taking Nicole out to the park for midday. Once, David was called in to work a particularly difficult case and so he couldn't join us. Erik and I were walking with Nicole in her carriage and a younger couple complimented us. He took it as a joke and told them we were newlyweds."

"Does he always joke like that when people ask you about the baby?"

"Not always. We share in the same circles, and we'd been invited to a cocktail party just last month for one of my gallery openings. David was happy to spend some time alone with Nicole so that I could attend. A man there asked Erik about me, because we had not yet decided how to explain. Erik's answer was, 'Elita is my friend and the mother of my daughter'. I believe that should clarify things for you, Christine."

Christine nodded, though she was still fairly dumbfounded after having so much revealed to her in the course of a mere hour and a half! She shifted slightly in her chair, and wondered how in the world she had come to be sitting across from the mother of Erik's child, rather than Erik himself.

Well. Elita hadn't given either of them much of a choice, and it wasn't as if Erik could leave Nicole alone and whisk her away to explain; perhaps it was better that so much knowledge had come from Elita. Christine sipped her coffee, thankful for the distraction.

"Are you going to come with us?"

She glanced up, across the table. "Pardon?"

Elita pushed her hair back behind her ear. "To Shalimar. Are you going to come with us?"

"I'm not sure- Erik only asked me a minute ago!"

The Frenchwoman only shrugged. "You grew up there, no? Wouldn't you like to see it again?"

Christine nodded, thinking of the natural beauty of the country, found both in the landscape and the people. Truly, her fondest memories of childhood were in Shalimar- but to go back, to be there with Erik again after everything that happened...

"I've always loved an adventure, you know." Elita confided. "Shalimar will be beautiful, and even though Nicole is too young, I think it is good for her to be there. Erik is afraid something may happen, but he also refuses to let her out of his sight. He wants her close, the dear man. I hope this will not be her only visit, but of course that will be Erik's decision."

She felt helpless- what to do? Was Erik sincere back at the hotel, that the abdication would be a way for them to part on good terms?

Or was this simply another of his manipulations, a veiled attempt to seduce her with the warm memories of their past friendship?

Christine wished that she could trust Erik, and herself.

* * *

"He invited you to Shalimar? Are you shitting me?!" 

Christine rolled her eyes at Belinda. "No, I'm afraid I shit you not. Cousin, he invited me back to Shalimar as a way for he and I to say goodbye on friendly terms...I think." She faltered, frustrated. "Erik's being his usual mysterious self. I'm worried that he's using my memories of the place as a way to lure me back to him."

Belinda crossed the living room, her hair sleep-mussed and spiky. Christine took no mind that it was already early afternoon and Belinda was content to walk around the apartment in a skimpy green and gold night set; her cousin had a notoriously late night life. The lanky blonde poured herself a cup of coffee (not her preferred Starbucks, but just as good) and turned back to Christine.

"Ah, yes, Erik the crazy schemer. It's a toss-up with that guy, isn't it? The way you tell it he's always about ten steps ahead of everyone else. You know him better than me, what do you think he's up to?"

Christine set her purse aside and slumped down into their big arm chair, rubbing her hands over her tired face. "I don't know- hell, I don't even know him! He's not the man he was in Paris or Shalimar, he's completely different- you didn't see how he was with that baby earlier today. It was like...he's still Erik, but this is a side I'd never seen before, a side I never knew Erik could even have. It was wonderful to see him happy with Nic-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Erik's a great daddy, who gives a shit? Sorry, but didn't you just spend the past four months ignoring him every time he tried to get in touch with you? The way I remember it, you were trying to forget everything that happened in Paris and now that he's back, you want to agonize over his intentions. Just go, go to Shalimar and see what happens and for once why don't the two of you have an actual conversation about this and have everything clear?!" Belinda barked out at her.

Christine frowned, surprised at her cousin's outburst. "What the hell happened to you last night?"

"Nothing happened. Sorry, I'm just sick of the way you agonize over everything that has to do with him. He's got a baby now, no big deal. He didn't marry that woman, she told you herself that there's nothing between them- it'd be pointless for her to lie about that. Then, as some weird spur of the moment thing, Erik asked you to go to Shalimar. Stop picking this situation apart and just go- what's the worst that could happen?" Belinda asked, running frustrated fingers through her short hair.

Christine closed her eyes and sighed. In a way, Belinda was right. Truly, she had nothing to lose by going to Shalimar. She and Erik would need to speak, to discuss what was between them before she made any decisions. Coarse as she was, Belinda often gave smart advice.

* * *

"Oh, you're back." Erik said upon opening the door of his suite to find Christine on the other side. 

She nodded. "Yes. May I come in?"

"Of course," Erik nodded and stepped aside to let her into the main room. Christine cast her eyes about the space and noticed his suitcase beside the table in the center of the room. Obviously Erik was more than ready to return to Shalimar, and more than ready to put the kingship behind him.

She turned around after he closed the door behind him. "Where is Nicole?"

He was watching her, masked again. His eyes held her, but his body language was withdrawn. Erik was holding himself back, but from what?

He blinked at her question. "She is asleep, in my bed." His gaze flickered from Christine to the bedroom for just a moment before returning to her.

"And Elita?"

"She has taken herself off to an art gallery she read about in the morning's paper. Did you need her?"

Shifting her weight, suddenly nervous, Christine cleared her throat. "No, I need you- I, I mean, I need to talk to you." She faltered, but hoped she sounded convincing.

Erik brought his hands together behind his back. "I see. Shall we sit?" He asked, looking to the sofa.

Christine swallowed quickly and followed him to the center of the room. Erik sat down and turned his intense eyes to her. "What is it that you needed to talk about, Christine?"

His words were formal, a defense she recognized easily. Erik was afraid of her, somehow- or rather, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing to her. Though he was eager to leave his kingship behind, there were habits that he could not shake. In the course of his abrupt ascension to royalty, Erik had developed a formal veneer meant to hide his true feelings. This tactic usually worked, but Christine's eyes hinted that she knew what he was up to.

"Us."

"I figured you wanted to continue what we spoke of earlier. We will not be interrupted now."

She took a deep breath. "That's good. Erik, I have to ask why you invited me to go with you to Shalimar."

"I invited you because I want you there with me." He stated plainly.

Christine cleared her throat. "But _why?_ Did you ask me, hoping that somehow you and I would become lovers again? Because if you did, then I don't think that I can."

"That was not my reason." He said quietly. "As you ignored my attempts to contact you after Paris, and you said yourself that you wanted to forget, I understand that the last thing you want is to be involved with me again. We have hurt each other, Christine, but in all honesty I do want us to part as friends. If we finally say goodbye while in Shalimar, we will have come full circle."

Christine absorbed his words, still tense and nervous to be alone with him though she was damned if she knew why. Erik would never hurt her, he wasn't even angry, but something in the way he held himself, the way his eyes held hers, spoke of their short-lived passion. Christine remembered it all, being so close to him, and she feared he would overwhelm her in some way.

Erik noted her stiff posture, the way she looked away from him. "You don't have to be so nervous, Christine. If you come with us to Shalimar, you have my word that I'll not lay a hand on you."

"What?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"You look as if you might jump up and run for the door at any moment. You're making _me_ nervous. Please calm yourself. If you fear my intention, I give you my word that I won't so much as look at you in the wrong way once we get to Shalimar." Erik said. He felt miserable having to promise her such a thing, but if Christine needed this reassurance he would give it to her.

She bowed her head slightly. "I...thank you, Erik."

"Was that it? You came to be sure I wouldn't try seducing you again in Shalimar?" He asked, his voice biting.

Christine winced slightly as the bitterness lacing his words, and she only nodded.

"So you will go with us then? And Kalila, she should come too. I will have Gabriel's manuscript sent to a leading publisher on our first day. From there I leave the creative editing to the two of you." Erik explained.

Christine took a deep breath. "Thank you for this, Erik. I know you didn't have to publish dad's work."

The man shrugged and stood from the sofa. "Gabriel was a friend to me for over a decade. It's the least I can do." He peeked into the bedroom to find that Nicole had woken up and rolled onto her stomach.

A hour before, he had set Nicole down in the center of the bed, with two large pillows on either side of her to keep her from squirming off; Erik smiled now, watching as the child used her arms to inch herself forward, dragging herself like a seal pup.

Silently, Christine rose and came to stand beside him. It was interesting to watch the baby while she was unaware. Erik glanced at her and smiled, pride evident in his eyes.

He stepped into the bedroom, and came around the bed so that Nicole would see him. She made small noises as Erik came closer to her, and Erik murmured French while kneeling before her. Christine didn't understand what he was saying, but she didn't have to know the exact words to know what was passing between them.

Erik lifted Nicole into his arms and had to close his eyes as her grasping hands reached toward his mask.

"She doesn't like it when you wear those, does she?" Christine asked.

Erik turned around. "I don't usually wear them when I'm alone with her."

"So why wear it now?" Christine asked.

Erik knew what Christine wanted, however he was apprehensive. Wasn't revealing his face one intimacy too far?

"I don't..."

"Your true face never bothered me, Erik. Not then, and not now. I saw you in Paris and I saw you this morning. Take off your mask. If not for me, then do it for her," Christine urged him, trying not to smile as Nicole continued to touch and grab at the mask.

Erik sighed. "Fine." He slipped the mask from his face and set it on the nightstand beside the bed. "Happy now?"

"I think we both are."

Nicole's hands continued to reach for his face, her tiny fingers tracing and poking at his scars.

Erik stepped out of the bedroom and together he, Christine and Nicole returned to the sofa.

Things between them were still tense with memories of passion and pain, but for now at least, they were content.


	33. The Arrival

**Author's Note: A very uneventful filler chapter, enjoy- I promise, the next one will be better!**

* * *

Wringing her hands as the Atlantic sparkled below her window, Christine flicked her gaze to the seat across from her, where Belinda was scrolling through the selections on her green iPod. Her cousin's large blue eyes met hers as she looked up, and Belinda lifted an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Are you nervous to go back there?" 

Christine couldn't deny the anxiety building in her chest. "Yes. I haven't been back to Shalimar in years, I don't have any family there- well, except for Kalila's family. I guess you would call them my step-extended family."

Belinda glanced over to where Kalila was reclining in her own chair, napping. "I bet aunt Kali can't wait to see them again. I know you're used to it, Christine, but peasants like myself have never been invited to stay in a palace before!"

She smiled at her cousin's excitement. "You'll love it, Belinda. The palace is beautiful, and so are the gardens and the street market. It's wonderful. I've checked with Erik to make sure that your room is close to mine, that way I can give you a tour."

"And where's aunt Kali going to be?"

"She's going to see her family for most of our stay but she will be there for the abdication ceremony."

Belinda nodded and stretched in her chair, the long muscles of her legs were tired from sitting for so long a time. They had been in the air for several hours already, but the view of the ocean had not changed, not even with the speed of Erik's sleek private plane. She speared her fingers into her hair, ruffling the spiky platinum locks, and hummed for a moment.

She wasn't sure that going with the man was the wisest course of action for Christine to take- but she had been the one to encourage her cousin to confront the man, hadn't she? Belinda hadn't expected the invitation to be extended to her as well, but how could she complain when she was offered such an adventure?

To travel to Shalimar, a place she only knew from Christine's stories and photographs (not to mention several Internet searches), a place that seemed so exotic and romantic...Belinda was excited to visit such a place, and had packed accordingly. She thought of the cameras tucked away in her bag.

"Quit looking so worried, Christine. We're already on our way, it's too late for second thoughts."

Christine smiled and looked down at the magazine in her lap, which she'd practically shredded in anxiety, and sighed. "I know, I'm being stupid for worrying, but it's just been a difficult week."

Belinda scoffed. "I'll bet. Nice of Kalila to let you know Erik was back in New York, huh? And now here you are, on your way back to Shalimar."

Christine let out a breath and glanced around the plane. Kalila was still napping, and Elita was seated further toward the front, reading a novel she'd bought in New York. Impressed, Christine noticed that she was nearly finished. Perhaps Erik hadn't been exaggerating when he mentioned Elita's enormous intellect. _No wonder Nicole is so smart_.

Speaking of Nicole, she was resting comfortably beside Erik in the long seat toward the back of the plane. Erik was staring out the window, his golden eyes absorbed with the ocean and sky. Christine suspected that his mind was far away, thinking of the abdication and the turns his life would take once he was no longer a king.

Nicole was awake, but very quiet as her eyes roamed the interior of the plane. Christine had noticed that Nicole wasn't given to fussing without reason; when content with either parent, she was silent and alert.

Belinda followed her cousin's eyes, curious. Despite all she'd heard of Erik and his small family, this had been the first time she'd ever laid eyes on both Elita and Nicole. She couldn't deny the other woman's beauty- obviously she would appeal to a man like Erik. Belinda wanted to talk to Elita, maybe practice her French, but she was determined not to like the woman _too_ much. After all, to Belinda's way of thinking, this was the woman that had driven Christine from Erik, upsetting her cousin's happiness.

Still, Belinda could not deny that their daughter was lovely as well, a perfect reflection of her mother. Nicole was a cuddly, plump little thing, sure to grow into a pretty girl and later on a beautiful woman.

Following a strange instinct, Belinda stood from her seat and crossed the plane, striding purposefully to the back where Erik and his child sat. Christine watched, wondering what on earth her cousin was up to. The lanky blonde and Erik had a quick exchange; due to Erik's forgotten English, there was a great deal of gesturing, which ended with Erik nodding to Belinda.

Surprised, Christine watched as Belinda picked up Nicole and carried her back over to her chair.

Happily, the blonde settled back into her seat with the baby on her lap.

"Why did you take her?" Christine asked.

Belinda only shrugged. "I'm bored, and I'm the only one who hasn't held her yet. No time like the present, right? Besides, who could resist this face? What a little cutie! She looks exactly like Elita, doesn't she?"

At the sound of her name, Elita turned around to see the girls and her daughter. Smiling, she closed her novel and set it aside, then went over to them. "She looks like me, yes, but Erik is there with her as well."

Similarly, Erik glanced up at the sound of his name and found all three women looking at him. He quirked his lips, but simply looked away from them.

"He was never one for scrutiny. This abdication will be a world of relief for him." Elita confided as she sat down with them. She had rolled up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater, newly acquired on their last day in New York, and pulled her hair back into a careless bun.

The sky outside their window was swiftly growing dark; they would land in a few more hours.

"How do you mean?" Belinda asked, simply thankful for a new conversation.

"The stress of the kingship drove him very nearly mad. He was keeping the worst hours you can imagine, losing sleep, skipping meals. It is not good for a man, let alone a king with so many people depending on him. Shalimar will remember Erik as a great king, however unconventional. But it is Kumar's turn for the crown, and Erik will finally be free. That's all he's ever wanted." Elita explained.

Nicole kicked her feet slightly, murmuring.

Christine couldn't think of anything to say while her thoughts were swimming with visions of Erik working himself to death for the people who'd once so reviled him. He'd explained that at first he had been happy to expose the misdeeds of his father, but in time his heart had changed- he had worked to make life better for the people.

_He is a good man, he always has been..._

Elita leaned forward. "Belinda, have you any children?"

Her cousin laughed. "No, I'm afraid not. Someday, hopefully. I want two girls- blonde, like me, with blue or green eyes. That way I can teach them how to dress and how to do their makeup."

Elita laughed. "You should have been born French! That is exactly what a mother teaches her daughter. When Nicole is old enough, she will need to know all those things. How to cook, how to choose the best wine for a meal, how to dress, how to flirt. A mother teaches her girl all the things that a school does not teach their students."

Christine remained silent as Belinda voiced her thoughts. "You'll teach her how to flirt?"

It seemed like a strange thing to teach a girl, at least to them.

"Don't American mothers do the same?" Elita asked, her expression slightly confused.

"No, not really. I mean, we rely on friends and magazines for advice like that." Belinda said as she tickled Nicole's belly. The baby laughed and squirmed.

Elita seemed surprised. "A magazine cannot teach a thing! A girl can only learn how to tempt a man from another woman."

"So if a mom teaches a girl how to flirt, then what does a father teach? What will Erik teach her?" Belinda asked.

Elita smiled and leaned in, as if to share a secret. "If I am to teach her to attract men, it will be Erik who teaches her to refuse them."

* * *

Several hours later, the plane finally touched down on Shaliman soil. Christine awoke to a large hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Erik standing over her, a looming shape in the dark, his strange eyes piercing into hers. The man didn't say anything, but gestured to the window, where Christine could see the lights from the airport buildings just outside. 

_Shalimar!_

Erik moved to the front of the plane to speak with their pilot, while the others came awake around her. Belinda stretched and yawned, ruffling her hair again, and joined Christine to look out the window. The blonde rubbed tired eyes with the back of her hand. "That's Shalimar? It looks just like JFK."

Christine rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure all airports look alike at," she glanced down to check her watch. "2:30 in the morning. We won't see the real Shalimar until tomorrow."

Belinda cleared her throat and glanced behind her to see Erik still discussing arrangements with the pilot. "Oh, we're not going to ditch this party and go take in the night life?"

"Afraid not. Besides, it'll be a while before we even make it to the palace. We didn't cross the world to club-hop, aren't you exhausted?" Christine asked, feeling the ache in her own muscles.

"Of course I am! I could sleep for a week. Still, this trip better not be a week's worth of nothing. I came to see _Shalimar._ When we were younger you told me all these stories about the palace and the animals and the markets- I came for a little adventure!"

"You'll get your wish, Shalimar never disappoints. Erik hasn't mentioned anything for us to do tomorrow so I think the day's clear. We'll explore, you can take all the pictures you want, and of course we'll go shopping. I'm sure your parents will want souvenirs." Christine stifled a yawn as she watched Elita soothing Nicole, who had woken up and started to fuss.

Erik finished with the pilot and moved to Elita, his attention focused on Nicole.

She watched as he tended to the baby, his voice soft and soothing. A pang struck Christine in the heart, surprising as it was sudden. Erik had been remote for most of the day; he'd hardly said a word to her, his attention either on Nicole or the preparations for his abdication. She shook her head and followed Belinda towards the door.

_How can I be upset with him when it was I who told him to keep away?_

* * *

The group left the plane and walked further out on the tarmac to meet the escorts that would take them to the center of the capitol, where the palace staff awaited them. Erik led the way toward the convoy of limousines and security, but paused to address them all. "The first car will take you all to the rear entrance of the palace, and I will follow shortly, entering through the front." 

"And why are we going in through the back?" Kalila asked. She was tired, but the air of her homeland was refreshing. Her eyes were brightening, her heart swelling at the knowledge that soon she would see her family in only a few hours. She was excited, eager, and she was home.

Erik quirked his lips at her question. "It's a security measure, of course. I'd rather that we all rode together, but your safety is more important to me." His eyes met with Christine's for just a moment, but he just as quickly looked away. "I'll meet with you in the palace."

Christine inwardly bristled at his direct explanation. Was he truly concerned about their safety or was this his way of further separating himself from her? She didn't know what to think about the way he'd been acting- he was quiet, withdrawn, listless. She didn't like it, but what could she do? No doubt, Erik had many things on his mind- especially now- and she couldn't expect everything to be sorted out between them simply because she wished for it.

Still, Christine wanted to be able to speak freely with him soon, and privately.

_Nothing for it now_, she thought as their car pulled up. _But we must speak soon..._

* * *

Erik sighed to himself as he watched Christine slip into the chauffeured car after her cousin, and wondered if the gentle ache in his chest would leave him when she did. He didn't know how much longer he could live with it. So far he had managed not to make an idiot of himself in front of the girl, but it was a small consolation. He knew the image he was projecting, his casually remote attitude had likely kept her from approaching him, but pushing Christine away wasn't what he wanted. 

He wanted to talk to her, to make her understand...

_But this is not the right time to even be thinking of such a thing_, he reminded himself. _It's nearing 3 in the morning and everyone is exhausted from the flight. You have an abdication ceremony to prepare for, your final edicts as king. Give her time to rest, then take her alone to talk. You owe her that much._

Erik blinked, feeling the weariness steal over him; the weariness from the flight, the weariness of the turns his life had taken. He blinked again and shook his head, clearing his thoughts. There would be time enough to deal with things in the morning, but he would be useless to everyone if he didn't get some sleep.

He slipped into the back of his own chauffeured car, and started to find his brother already there waiting for him. "Kumar, it's good to see you!" Erik said as he pulled the younger man into a quick hug.

Kumar hugged Erik and just as quickly released him. "Forgive me, Highness, I just couldn't wait until the morning. It's only been months but it feels like years since I've last seen you."

Erik nodded to him as the car moved forward, escorted by the royal security service through the city, onward toward the palace. "I know. I had only thought to take the one month away, but things have prevented an official abdication. I hope you don't think I've been stalling."

The younger man shook his head. "I know you better than that. All you've talked about for years has been the freedom to build your life away from here- I'd be a fool to think you were drawing this out longer than necessary. All the same, I am more than ready for the crown. You've heard the news?"

"The sea-trade treaty, congratulations Kumar. I was impressed when I read about that; it will benefit everyone. You're making a good name for yourself among the people already."

Kumar stretched, content as a cat. "Well, thank you, brother. I appreciate the accolades, but there are bigger matters on my mind. When can I see my niece?"

Erik smiled. "You were the one who helped me plan the charade, so you can see her when I do. Tomorrow night, after David has arrived and the staff are under the impression that she is his child."

"All right, I look forward to seeing her. And what of Christine?"

"What of her?"

"I saw her leave the plane with you. She's even more gorgeous than I remember, brother. I don't know how you'll keep your hands off her." Kumar teased. He and Christine had been friends while she'd lived in Shalimar; if he was honest with himself, he'd been a bit jealous that the girl had always preferred his brother's company to his own.

Erik shifted in his seat, unsure how to answer his brother's probing question. "She...yes, she's lovely as ever. And she's off-limits, brother."

Kumar raised his thick black brows. Playfully, he chided the older man, "Jealous, Erik? And here I'd thought it was all over between the two of you, you said it yourself that she'd left you in Paris before Nicole was born. That was months ago! Have the two of you...reconnected?"

Erik shifted again, irritated now. "No. I've only just come back into contact with her again, and I invited her back to the kingdom because Gabriel left a manuscript behind. Christine and Kalila will direct the creative design on how it's published. That's why I invited them."

Not fooled for a second, Kumar smiled. "That's the _only_ reason you've invited her? You must think I'm simple to believe you."

"We haven't had much time to speak about the past. I will talk with her soon, leaving no stone unturned. No matter how things end between us, we will have at least been honest. We owe it to each other."

As the car approached the palace straight ahead, both men became quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts.


	34. Home Again

Slowly, Christine's mind dragged itself into the waking world. It was late the next morning, with the sun already high in the clear Shaliman sky. She could hardly believe that she had actually crossed the world to come back here, let alone done so with Belinda at her side. Christine lifted her head and glanced to her left, where her lanky cousin slept beside her in the large bed. They had been so exhausted the night before that Belinda had collapsed into the bed when she first laid eyes on it, and Christine hadn't bothered to protest. It hadn't been the first time they'd shared a bed, after all, and who cared when they had just spent nearly a full day in the life-draining space of an airplane?

Christine rolled onto her back and stretched her arms out above her head, trying to awaken herself further. The bed was large, with more than enough room for both the girls, and very lush. The sheets were soft peach linen, the duvet an embroidered gold woven into intricate patterns resembling paisley flowers. Several pillows of all shapes and sizes had neatly lined the headboard but were now strewn all over the bed and the floor.

Slowly, hoping not to further upset her stomach, Christine rose to sit up for a better look around the bedroom she'd be staying in during her stay in the palace. The ceilings were high softstone, catching the light from the large central window to further illuminate the space with warm, buttery light. Aside from the bed there were a few other pieces of fine furniture, all in matching dark cherrywood to give the room a semblance of European finery. Christine assumed that Erik's influence had reached the palace designers.

She wondered where Erik was, but all the same her fatigue prevented her from bounding through the palace in search of him the way she had when she'd been a girl, so in love with him that he'd been all she could think of.

_I'm not that girl anymore..._

Tiredly, Christine ran her fingers through her hair, smiling to feel its short length. She'd had it trimmed again before leaving for Shalimar. Belinda sighed in her sleep and turned over, clutching more tightly to her pillow. Christine patted her cousin on the hip before slipping from the bed.

The dark Persian carpet beneath her bare feet was soft and warm as she moved to the window and took a look outside. Her window had a view that overlooked the palace courtyard and then out over the south side of the city. The air was warm and sweet, bringing with it years of memory.

_Shalimar, Shalimar, I fee like I've finally come home._

She turned from the window and looked into the room wardrobe, smiling to find robes hanging inside. She hadn't worn a robe in years, not since Belinda had helped her to acclimate to New York's style of dress. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Choosing a pale blue robe with silver and green embroidery, Christine stepped into the bathroom to freshen up; when she stepped out, she glanced back to the bed to see that Belinda had not stirred. _Sleep, cousin._

She then left the room, intent to reacquaint herself with the palace. She was curious to see what things had changed while under Erik's rule.

* * *

Erik watched as Christine crossed the courtyard below the window and headed into the palace gardens, the place where they had met in secret those years ago. His lip twitched into a half smile as he thought back to those times. Everything had been a source of frustration then, from his father to the people to his very place in life. 

The only thing that had been simple in his life had been her; so simple, serene and pleasant. The girl had been so wonderful, and he...

Erik felt the familiar pain lance through his chest at the memory of the pain he'd caused her.

_She would not have left me in Paris if I had not hurt her._

He was tempted to follow her, to finally tell her what he needed to say, but he couldn't. Not with everything in such upheaval.

Not now, he needed more time, more time...

Nicole stirred, drawing Erik's attention away from the window. Christine had already disappeared into the gardens, out of sight. He stepped over to the bed and peered down at the baby, frowning to see that she was sucking on her own fingers. "Hungry, love?"

The baby just laughed at him.

Elita yawned and set her book aside as Erik took their baby into his arms. She watched, smiling, as Erik paced up and down the length of her room, humming to Nicole. He glanced at her. "Did you finish your book?"

"Yes, just a moment ago." She looped her hair behind her ear. "David called, his flight is on time."

Erik deflated slightly. "Ah. That's good. I think he'll enjoy his stay here."

Elita watched as he stroked their daughter's hair. The girl's eyes never left his face, they were fascinated with each other. She had thanked God everyday that Erik was a good man, a man who had not run from his responsibility. He loved his daughter, but she noticed his stirring depression at the fact that he could not spend much time with her while they were in his country. It probably hadn't helped his mood that things were so strained between he and Christine, either.

Elita recognized a man saddened by situations beyond his control; he was kept from his daughter and the young woman he loved. Even after all he had struggled for, Erik was still without the simple life he deserved.

She couldn't say anything to ease his mind about Christine, but Elita was compelled to reassure him about their daughter. "David won't replace you Erik. He loves Nicole, but she only has one father."

Erik looked up at her words, and sighed. He did not smile. "Thank you, Elita. Here, you might as well take her now. I'll alert the staff to have a car ready to take us to the airport so that we can meet him."

Elita stood to take Nicole from him and watched as Erik left her room, a definite droop to his shoulders.

* * *

_I hate this_, Erik thought as he watched David, Elita and Nicole together on the terrace. 

There were several tables arranged outside for different members of the palace; from advisors and assistants, to esteemed friends, to the present and future kings, Erik and Kumar. His brother was speaking to a member of the assembled counsel, but Erik found his attention continuing to drift back to the table where his daughter was charming all those around her.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as a few passing courtesans cooed and giggled over the baby. Nicole enjoyed the attention of strangers, and had since day one.

David bounced the girl on his lap, proud in his adopted role. He was so busy lately that he'd rarely had much time to have Nicole to himself, but he was obviously happy to do so now.

Surprisingly, Erik genuinely liked David. The man had interesting stories and led a good life as a criminal investigator; he'd stood by Elita during the most difficult time in her life, and took to Nicole as if she was his own daughter. At any other time, Erik would be perfectly happy to share.

At the moment, however, Erik felt ready to steal Nicole away from the both of them.

Elita had slept with the baby the night before, and Erik had not spent any time with Nicole since she'd woken up late that morning. Now she was laughing and happy, bouncing on David's lap instead of his own.

"Erik, did you hear me?"

He turned his attention away from the family and looked over to find Belinda beside him. She stood there, practically swimming in her petal pink Shaliman robe. She had said something to him...what was it?

Erik frowned slightly, hating his broken English. He had forgotten so much, and he felt like an idiot! "What?"

"I said, where is Christine? You know, my cousin?"

Erik's mind was struggling to recover the lost language, but he found himself staring blankly at her, unable to respond. Perhaps he was more tired than he'd thought- usually his mind was sharp, but lately he'd found himself muddled by even the simplest of tasks.

Those who shared his table were staring at Belinda as well, confused by this unknown girl and her unfamiliar language.

Belinda huffed at him, "The girl you banged in Paris! Ring any bells? Hello? God, even I remember how to say 'cousin' in Spanish, and I haven't taken a class since high school!"

"Christine?" Erik asked.

"Yes! Thank you, you remember her now.Do you know where she is?" She demanded, speaking slowly and far too loud.

Erik could only point toward the courtyard. The blonde stormed off, muttering all the way.

_Wonderful start to the week_, he thought in irritation.

* * *

Christine started and turned to find her cousin stomping down the garden trail, irritated and stopping every few steps to adjust her robe. She approached the blonde with a degree of caution. Belinda was exhausted from the flight, in an unfamiliar place and had woken up alone. Add in the stress the robe was causing her, and Christine knew she had to watch what she said, else she might get slapped. 

"Belinda?"

"Oh, there you are! God, Christine you've got to help me with this thing, I feel like I'm wearing a circus tent. I swear, I thought the damn thing would fall off in front of Erik- maybe if it had, he would've been able to say more than just your name!" Belinda groused.

"You saw Erik?"

"Yeah, he's hanging around with some people back on the terrace. Looks happy as ever, too. You couldn't pay that man to smile." Belinda said as Christine moved forward to help her cousin adjust the robe into his proper wrap pattern.

"There you go, you look perfect. There hair's a little unconventional around here, but you look great anyway." Christine said as she admired the cut of the robe Belinda had chosen.

Belinda smiled for the first time that day, relieved. "I'm glad you said that, because I doubt we'd find a place for me to get extentions. You hungry? Everyone back there was having lunch."

Christine felt the rumblings of hunger in her stomach and agreed. "I'm starved, let's go."

* * *

Erik looked up to see first Belinda, and then Christine emerge from the garden trail across the courtyard. The blonde looked much happier than she had while snapping at him, and much more comfortable in the robe he'd had provided for them during their stay. It draped over her becomingly, though he was sure Belinda would have preferred her more contemporary clothes. 

Christine followed close behind her, noticably brighter in the early day's sun. To see her here, in robes so similar to those she'd worn before, had a jarring effect on Erik. He saw her now, both as the girl he'd so long adored and as she woman he'd hurt. His stomach clenched painfully as the memory of her tears rose into his mind's eye.

_We were so close..._

He turned away from them, looking instead at Elita and David, with Nicole between them. It pained him to see Christine now, the walking memory of his failure. Erik closed his eyes for a moment, warding off despairing thoughts, and tried instead to focus his mind on the conversations around him, however pointless that proved to be.

Belinda noticed Erik's obvious avoidance, and she would have had to have been blind not to have noticed the distance that existed between Christine and Erik. She knew most of the story by now, most of it from Christine and Elita, but she wouldn't know Erik's side of things unless he suddenly decided to confide to her, which was highly unlikely given their language barrier.

She glanced to her right and saw that Christine had noticed Erik looking away from them as well, though Belinda chose not to say anything. Her cousin had put on the front of nonchalance toward the man all this time, but now that he was in her life once again and outright ignoring her, Belinda was sure that Christine was hurting.

She had loved him, after all, and love wasn't an emotion that was easy to control.

Belinda took Christine's hand and led her away from the terrace.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm starved, but I think I'd rather take in the local cuisine than whatever the palace cook can whip up. Come on, Christine, you promised me a real Shalimar adventure."

Smiling, Christine did what she'd always done, and let Belinda lead the way.


	35. Venturing Into the Harem

Erik scowled down into the depths of his crystal glass, the wine within providing him with no answers. He was at yet another crossroad of life; in several days he would be free of the kingship that had kept him prisoner to Shalimar. He'd nearly been crushed under the pressure of the nation, but as time had gone on, Erik had adapted, evolved, and become a hero to the people.

True, he was proud of his accomplishments, but he was eager to get back to his own life. A life he would build with his daughter in Paris. He'd cleared the guest room in his loft for Nicole, and as she grew up, he would reinvent the room to suit her tastes. He looked forward to simply being with his family, to enjoying what so many other men took for granted...

_I will be happy in Paris with Nicole, but there will still be a part of my that yearns for something more._

He sighed and looked over the things in his office. Years ago, when he'd first been crowned, Erik had chosen to surround himself with European decor as a way to ease his homesickness for Paris while he would be in Shalimar. Now, the Old World trappings gave him no comfort. Here he was reminded, bitterly, of his meetings with Gabriel and the many exchanges they'd traded over the man's daughter.

Erik had been a grown man when Christine, the skinny, pushy little child, had elected herself as his new best friend. Her instant adoration had not been something that Erik had encouraged, but the girl's sweetness had won him over within weeks. She'd followed him all over the palace, always with questions and requests for adventure.

Finally giving in, tt had been Erik who'd shown her the palace gardens, larger and lusher than any Western arboretum. He'd led her down the gravel paths, shown her the statue markers and fountains; Christine had been infused with joy, and by the luminous smile on her face, Erik had been ensnared. To him, Christine had been a sweet, wholesome escape from the depression he'd been mired in the few years since the accident that had both scarred his body and claimed his mother.

However, even before the suspicion had been cast over their friendship, Erik had been careful to keep a certain distance between them. There were things one should keep private, and as much as he had come to care for the girl, Christine had only been a child.

_But she grew up right before you- how had you not seen her love?_

Perhaps he had not wanted to see it. Perhaps he had been afraid to ruin her.

Erik leaned back in his chair and tried not to think of the many instances when Christine had approached him, always so giddy, and asked for his company in the gardens or to escort her through the marketplace just outside of the palace. Occasionally, she would sneak a bit of Kalila's makeup, adding color to her lips or eyes- he had always noticed this, but he had never commented on it. Truly, he hadn't liked to see her indulging in the exercises of women. She was only a girl, a child, and he had been desperate to remain thinking of her that way.

_Ah, so you had noticed that she'd grown up..._

Of course he had noticed! Christine had been sixteen when Gabriel had moved her back to America; there were Shaliman girls who married younger than that. He could have...he could have...

_It is too late to think of that,_ he reminded himself. _She has no love for me and I have long since ruined the both of us. Likely she only agreed to return to Shalimar so that we may part on peaceful terms, but I will be restless for years to come. There will never be peace for me._

Tiredly, Erik stood and moved to his window. Twilight was descending on the palace grounds. He had not seen Christine since late in the morning, when he'd been jarred by her appearance. She had been her past and present self at once, startling him. He had been alerted that she and her cousin had returned to the palace hours ago, but still Erik had not gone to find her.

As it was, things were far too tense between them. Still, the air needed to be cleared between them.

Erik decided then that he would give her until the morning.

* * *

"Hey, Christine, wake your ass up!" 

Startled, Christine's mind snapped out of her dream. Shaking away the remnant images of a shirtless Erik, she blinked rapidly at the golden morning light. Belinda had shared her bed once more, perhaps nervous to be alone in such a foreign place, and had apparently been the first to wake.

Her cousin was standing over her, already dressed for the day in a robe of lavender and embroidered gray. Belinda had left her hair in a ruffled shag rather than having styled it, and her lips were curved in a sly smile. Christine glared at her. "Why'd you wake me up? What do you want?"

Belinda bounced into the bed beside her, "I think you should be happy to wake up."

Christine rolled away from her, shoving her head under a pillow. "Leave me alone."

Belinda rested her chin on Christine's hip and sighed. "For someone with such an admirer, you're very cranky. I wonder what a man like that could possibly see in you."

Christine opened one eye to glare at her. "What are you talking about?"

"He might own the castle, but it seems he knows better than to come into a girl's room while she's still asleep. I found those just outside the door." Belinda rose from the bed and moved to the low table in the center of the room, where a large boquet stood from an ornate red glass vase.

She pulled a long-stemmed bloom from the vase and took a whiff. The flowers were strange to her; she'd never seen them before, but they were beautiful, a vibrant splash of different colors that lit up the whole room. Christine sat up in the bed, hardly believing her eyes.

Belinda smiled at her, teasingly. "There was a card- I'd read it to you, but I don't speak Squiggly." She groused.

Christine stood up and took the card from her. "It's Shaliman, you fool."

"Fool? Who actually says that? You're starting to sound so formal, cut it out. Pretty flowers, huh?"

"I just meant, these aren't squiggly lines, it's Shaliman writing. These flowers are from Erik."

Belinda rolled her eyes. "I'm dying of shock. I thought this was supposed to be a way for you two to say goodbye, not a way for him to start in with the charming tricks. What does that card say?"

"It says, 'Christine, I hope you will save a dance for me tonight. -Erik.' "

"Well, he's never long-winded. What do you suppose that means?"

"With Erik, everything is a mystery. That's part of the problem. Maybe Elita or Kumar will know."

Quickly, Christine dressed in a peach robe and with Belinda, went in search first for Elita. Figuring that Kumar would be in endless meetings to prepare for his abdication, they went to Elita's room and were surprised to find it empty.

"Where could she have gone? Think she's shopping in the city?" Belinda asked. "Parisians do like to shop a lot, have you noticed?"

Christine shrugged. "She might have done that, but it's a little early to go into the market. Maybe she's down in the courtyard with her fiance."

"That guy who was with her on the terrace the other day? He's cute, I think they make a good couple." Belinda remarked, offhand. "Let's keep looking. I don't mind roaming the palace- this building is so beautiful!"

Christine took a moment to look around them as they stepped out into the main corridor, and tried to see things through Belinda's eyes. the walls were smooth softstone, Grecian white and trimmed with gilt. Painted murals filled the blank spaces in between the large portraits of former rulers, among them Bhaskar and Erik himself. Soon, Kumar's portrait would hang beside his brother and father.

Along the corriodor there were tables with vases atop them, overflowing with flowering vines. The palace was beautiful, and for a full decade it had been Christine's home. She sighed slightly, suddenly feeling like a stranger there, no longer part of any family. "Yes, it is beautiful. But come on, we need to find Elita."

Together, the girls roamed the halls in search of the woman, before Christine finally gave in and began to ask every servant she saw if they knew the pretty Frenchwoman's whereabouts. No one knew anything, until finally a maid mentioned having seen Elita, David and Nicole close to the stables.

Irritated now, both the girls went in that direction, when the sound of a baby stopped them in their tracks. "Hey, stop for a second. Did you hear that?" Belinda asked.

Christine nodded, and they followed the chirping noises to a section of the palace that she had never been permitted to visit before. Glancing at the plaque above a curtained doorway, she smiled awkwardly, feeling as if she might be caught for going where she wasn't supposed to.

It was the harem of courtesans.

"What's the matter?" Belinda asked. "You look like you have your hand in the cookie jar or something."

Christine laughed. "Oh, it's nothing. This is where the courtesans are. I was never allowed to come down here, my father and Kalila were always worried that I would _"get ideas"_ if I made friends with any of the women."

Belinda wrinkled her nose. "Courtesans? Where are we, trapped in some trash romance novel? I didn't think kings really had harems anymore."

"Most do, it's just not often mentioned. And wipe that look off your face, Belinda! The courtesans aren't mere whores, you know. They do provide valuable services to the palace." Christine said, irritated by her cousin's look of disgust.

"Yeah, I'm sure blow-jobs really come in handy." Belinda snapped.

"I'm serious! They more often act as hostesses than anything else, helping the foreign leaders and guests feel more comfortable here. Whenever there's a party they provide entertainment, dancing, singing, music, and many of them have played a part in helping international negotiations." Christine argued, though in the back of her mind she wondered why in hell she was defending women she'd never even met.

"So they bang the guys for their country, huh? How patriotic!"

"You're so judgemental. You think America's government is so noble? Shalimar uses courtesans, and so what? They wouldn't be the first country to do so. This isn't a slave trade, these women know exactly what they're getting into when they come into their position here. We're no different than them, when you think about it." Christine huffed.

"You're not honestly comparing modelling to whoring!"

"Oh, stop it. Lots of models will sleep with photographers and agents to get the big assignments-" Christine started to argue her point, but the sound of approaching footsteps down the corridor startled her. "Look, I was never allowed to see the harem and now I've finally got a chance- let me take it before someone sees us, and we can argue about the moralities of using courtesans later!"

Belinda rolled her eyes and let Christine lead the way through the scarlet curtains, and into the harem.


	36. Chapter 36

The first thing Christine noticed once she pulled back the curtain to the harem was the heady scent of incense that perfumed the air. Orange blossoms, vanilla, and musk swirled together to entrance the mind. It hit them in a wave. Beside her, Belinda seemed to fall under the spell at first breath, she was swaying slightly as she followed Christine down the short entrance hall.

The narrow corridor expanded to reveal the harem in its entirety, a place Christine had only ever imagined and had never thought she'd have the chance to see after leaving for America. The main room of the harem was open, circular, with satin drapes hanging from the ceiling, and a grand fountain of black marble in the center; the statue in the fountain's center, a naked, gilded woman, was smiling as water flowed from the jug in her arms. 

The floor was marble as well, though colored a soft neutral pink to suit the women therein; loose silk pillows were scattered across the floor and over several chaise lounges. Books, personal trinkets and small musical instruments- here a flute, there a handheld harp- were arranged in various cubbyholes and on shelves discreetly carved into the far wall. Large pot vases of vine flowers were spread across the harem, placed strategically beside curtained doorways, many of which likely led to private chambers where any fantasy of man could be brought to life by the women.

It was here that the courtesans assembled to train in the ways of seduction, where they became versed in the sensual and erotic arts. To Christine, they had always seemed so mysterious and different, above common women in every way. 

They must have been special, to have impressed Erik so.

Christine knew, from overhearing gossip and servant chatter, that only the most beautiful and loyal Shaliman women were selected for the position of courtesan; these women understood what was required of them, and put forth great efforts to assist their king and country in any way they could.

Christine thought the courtesans were noble, in their own way, though her stomach clenched at the thought of Erik anywhere near the women. _I have no right to be jealous with the way things are between us, but I can't stop feeling this way!_

The women were grouped together in a tight circle on the floor, all of them huddled around Nicole. The baby was perched on a large silk floor pillow, giggling and basking in the attention of so many. One of the courtesans, a petite woman in a deep jade robe, reached forward and lifted Nicole into her arms. The woman made a funny face, bringing forth laughs from the baby and the other courtesans. The women took turns holding and cuddling the baby, all of them remarking on the child's beauty.

Distantly, Christine was reminded of vultures swarming over a carcass, but the comparison was absurd- none of the women intended harm to the child, in fact they were fascinated and showering Nicole with affection.

One of the women looked up at the entrance of Christine and Belinda, and like a flock of wild birds, they all became alert to the new presence in the harem. Ten pairs of courtesan eyes assessed them and, finding nothing of interest, they quickly returned to the cherished baby at the center of their circle.

"What are you girls doing in here?"

Spinning around in a guilty panic, Christine and Belinda found Elita standing just behind them.

"We...well, we were looking for you, but heard Nicole- Elita, what are you doing in here?" Christine asked. "Don't you know where you are?"

Elita gently rolled her eyes. "The harem, of course."

"You know? But then why are you here?" Elita didn't seem the type to find a guilty excitement over sneaking into the harem, the way that Christine and Belinda had with their little adventure.

"One of the courtesans convinced me to come down here- that one, in the red outfit." Elita pointed towards the circle, to one of the women. "Her name is Karina. She speaks French, or, enough of it to make herself understood. Erik has insisted that they learn our tongue, no doubt. She saw me with Nicole and pleaded that the others should have a look at her."

"They don't know she's Erik's, do they?" Belinda asked, her voice hushed with the secret.

"Of course not! Erik has enough to worry about without me revealing his princess. Everyone believes Nicole to be my child with David, just as he asked.We were on our way back to our room when Karina asked if I would bring the baby here. David wanted to come with me, but I'll be damned if I bring my fiance into a harem!" Elita declared, laughing as she smoothed an imagined wrinkle in her robe.

"We can understand that." Belinda winked, then seemed to remember the reason they had been looking for her in the first place. "Is there a party tonight?"

Elita smiled. "Yes,a ceremony dinner that Erik is putting on for his brother. A very kind thing for him to do, if you ask me. David and I received our invitations just a while ago. You are going, of course."

Belinda nodded. "Of course. Not that exploring the palace and the market isn't wonderful, but I think a party would be a great opportunity for some excitement."

"Then I'm sure you will get your wish." Elita turned her eyes to Christine and she smiled, knowingly. "Well, from what Erik has told me, it should be something special."

* * *

Hours later, Belinda and Christine swept into a side ballroom of the grand palace, to be greeted by servants, guests and what remained of the royal family to Shalom. Sparing no detail, the room was set out with several tables surrounding a dance floor, live music coming from a small band in the corner, and a singer before them on a stage. Junior courtesans and servants were flitting between tables, making every effort to keep the spirit of the celebration alive.

At a long table in the front sat Jamar, with Erik at one side, and his advisers on either side of them. The younger king was smiling, enjoying the spectacle, while Erik appeared more dour than ever, frowning as his eyes raked the room. 

He was missing Nicole, no doubt.

Christine felt herself blush and looked away when his golden eyes shined at her from across the room, and she moved to follow Belinda, who was heading toward Elita and David. They settled into a pair of chairs and joined into the happy table conversation. 

"Don't you girls look wonderful," Elita began, looking them over from head to toe. "Ah, I see Erik's tastes have not changed."

Christine frowned, "Erik's tastes? What do you mean?"

Elita winked at David, who smiled. "I overheard Erik with a palace seamstress earlier this morning. He wanted something special for you for tonight. Where did you think your gown came from?"

Blushing furiously now, Christine swallowed, thinking herself foolish for not having realized it first. She looked down at herself, sheathed in deep sapphire silk. Not a Shaliman robe, but a gown; beautiful in its simple cut and color. Belinda was similarly outfitted in pale lavender.

Of course. Erik had sent flowers, asked her for a dance and when she and Belinda had returned to their room the gowns had been waiting for them. Where else would they have come from?

"Erik did this? God, he's trying hard to get back on your good side, isn't he?" Belinda said, nudging her slightly.

Christine laughed along with the table, but inwardly her pulse had accelerated rapidly. This wasn't what she wanted, for Erik to be making these romantic gestures. After everything that had happened, and what he had promised her, why would he be doing these things? Did he enjoy keeping her unbalanced and upset?

_Just talk to me Erik, and tell me what it is you want!_

Hadn't he invited her back to Shalimar so that they could part on peaceful terms? Those had been his exact words to her in New York, and he had promised not to make any advances on her. Erik knew how he had hurt her, and Christine recalled all too well how she had hurt him in return by leaving and then refusing his attempts at contact. 

Food arrived, and while Belinda and Elita sampled the exotic cuisine, Christine found that her appetite had fled. She finished off her second flute of champagne and only nibbled at the fish on her plate; her mind swam with questions and a mounting frustration began to seethe under the surface of her thoughts. 

She watched as Elita and David rose to join the other guests on the dance floor; she was angry, suddenly, that Elita had been so blessed. To have Erik as the father of her beautiful baby, to have David, so handsome and understanding, love her enough to make her his wife even while she'd been pregnant with another man's child during their courtship. Elita had Erik's friendship to look forward to, while he had not spoken a word to Christine for days.

_It's not fair!_

"Excuse me," Christine found herself saying, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Belinda stood with her. "Are you feeling all right? I should go with you if you're feeling sick."

"No, no, it's fine. You should stay, enjoy the rest of the party. I'll be fine." Christine put her hand on Belinda's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance and then turned towards the pair of doors that she knew lead outside, rather than back into the main palace corridor. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Erik rising from the royal table, but she didn't bother to see where he was going. 

Cool night air greeted her once she had made it outside. The music from within was muffled slightly, but Christine could still make out the lyrics to one of the more popular folk songs, a song Erik had once taught her. She shook off the thought and ventured further out into the courtyard, heading towards the great garden maze. 

The moon hung in the night sky, a bright slice surrounded by hundreds of pinpoint stars. The maze was lit by several strings of lights, brightly punctuated with larger lamps at every turn of the maze. Christine was not intimidated by the winding path she had to follow; she had walked through this maze every day during the ten years she had lived in Shalimar and did not miss a step as she made it through to the other side, which led into the main gardens.

She did not know why she tortured herself, revisiting the most sacred place of the past she had shared with Erik. Christine did not care to stop and observe the trees, bushes and bright flowers that lined the garden paths, her main focus was to reach the fountain; she wanted only to sit and think of what she could say to Erik when next they were alone together. That is, _if _she had the opportunity.

Christine made the final turn in the path and stepped into the clearing, her eyes fixed to the small fountain in the center. The lamp in the clearing was weaker than those that had been in the maze, and gave only a weak golden glow. She stepped closer to the fountain, seeing it for what it was. Very plain, and built from smooth gray stones, the small edifice was wholly unimpressive when compared to everything else within the palace, but it did hold many happy memories- now bittersweet- for her.

Curiously, she circled the fountain, checking to see if it was in any way different than she remembered, and she then leaned forward to dip her fingers into the water.

"What are you looking for?"


	37. Confronting In the Garden

**Author's Note: First and foremost, I want to apologize for all the lame filler chapters! Let's all be honest here- filler is boring to write and even more boring to read. No more of that, I'm on the tail-end of this story and I'm going to finish strong. Please read, review and most of all, enjoy!**

* * *

Christine turned to see Erik, just mere steps behind her. His chosen mask for the night was stark, bone white. Familiar golden eyes gleamed at her from that false face, shining in the dark like a cat's. The girl's pulse jumped and she took a step back from the fountain to face him fully.

Erik stood there, silent, looking at her curiously, standing only half in the shadows. He had followed her, true, expecting her to venture into the gardens in search of that relic to the past they'd shared: the stone fountain. The dim lamps surrounding the clearing cast her in a gentle glow- Erik had not thought it possible for her to appear even more beautiful to him, but again he had been proved wrong.

They stared at each other for several long moments, both well aware that they were alone, finally, for the first time in months- nevermind the few minutes they'd shared in New York on the roof deck of the Hilton; here there would be no interruptions, and all that hung between them would finally be said.

Taking first action, Erik stepped forward. "Were you looking for this?" He asked, slipping a gold Shaliman coin from his suit pocket.

Christine held out her hand for it, and took a closer look. Yes, it was the same coin she'd left in the fountain, years ago. This was no ordinary currency, but a special coin that Erik had had pressed for her thirteenth birthday; on one side, an ornate heart, on the other were two small doves.

She said nothing.

"You seem to have a habit of leaving my gifts behind." Erik said, his voice low. "The coin, the crystal bead necklace. And this." He drew out the Tiffany necklace he'd given to her in Paris.

Before Christine could raise a hand to stop him, Erik had secured the silver chain about her throat. He took a step back to have a look at her. Yes, she was as beautiful as ever. Pehaps more so.

"I'd left the coin in the fountain after making a wish." Christine said, so quiet that Erik had to strain to hear her. Her mind was swimming again, struggling in a tumultuous sea of memory and unclear emotions. "I'd seen you with a woman, I didn't know who she was, but I made a wish. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at her. I wanted you to love me."

Her statement, simple as it was, tore at him. Had he been cruel not to acknowledge her past infatuation? He would have been crueler to act on it, surely, to exploit the feelings of a young girl, the daughter of his friend.

Erik moved to her, and lifted his hands to rest over the curve of her bare shoulders. "Christine. Enough of that, do not recall the past any longer. I know you loved me then- tell me, do you still love me now?"

"I don't know!" The exclamation burst from Christine's throat before she could form her thoughts, and she struggled out of his hold. "How could I love you, after the way you ignored me in Shalimar, the way you used me in Paris? Time and again you have come into my life, upsetting everything, expecting me to attend to your whims- as if you are king wherever you go. You're not a real king, Erik, you never were!"

Erik gritted his teeth. "Why do you say these things?" He demanded, cut by her words. "You say I ignored you in Shalimar- I say you were a child, what would I have been if I'd taken you? You say I used you in Paris- how, when you tempted me so? I did not use you, Christine. You know I did not- not when I would have asked you to be with me." He took a deep breath to calm himself, slightly. "Perhaps you were hurt that the news of my daughter took my attention from you in Paris and that's why you ran from me, but putting my child first is something I will never apologize for." His voice softened. "Christine, please. Tell me what it is you want from me."

"I just wish you would have stayed away." She cried. Christine put her hands to her face. "I've never felt this way before and I can't stand it! It's tearing me apart inside, one moment I want to be with you and the next I hate you- it's confusing and I can't take it anymore!" Christine grated; it was not that she wished to be cruel, but the strain of her emotions, all experienced for the first time, was taking its toll. She was exhausted and breaking.

Erik took a step closer. "So there is no more love for me?"

"None! I wish none of this had ever happened! You're not the Erik I remember, you've been so cold to me-"

He took hold of her arms and shook her, hard, letting her feel his own breaking frustration. "How else should I behave, when the woman I love hates me?!"

She pulled from him. "What?"

Erik released her and began to pace, not caring what he said, so long as he wasn't forced to keep his feelings locked inside any longer. "You've just made it quite clear how horrible a man I am. How awful I was for ignoring the advances of a child, how cruel I was for needing time to recover from the shock of learning I could be a father. I hadn't meant for you to feel pushed to the side, Christine, but during that time I had to put everything second to the baby; that's why I didn't go after you when you ran, because Nicole was first in my life then and she will be first in my life from now on."

He stopped and took a deep breath. "I know I said that I wanted you here so that we could part peacefully, and for a time I did believe that- but I followed you here tonight to see if there was any hope that you would put aside the past and start anew with me, but it's obvious that you're far _too bitter_."

Christine stared at him, speechless at his accusation.

"No answer? Scream at me all you like, Christine. It won't change the fact that you still hold the past against me." He sighed then, as the weight of the night fell on his shoulders. "I asked if any love remained for me, and I have your answer. That's all I wanted. Good night."

Before she could find the words, Erik had gone, disappearing back into the dark.

* * *

Erik made his way out of the gardens and found a doorway that led him into the main corridor. From there he neared the hall that hosted the night's celebration, but Erik moved past it. He wasn't needed there any longer, the party was already in full swing; a quick glance inside and he found most of the guests dancing or eating, with the music reaching a fast, full rhythm. Elita and Kumar were dancing together in a circle, as were Belinda and David. Smiles and laughter pervaded the air.

In the shadows of the corridor, Erik glowered and felt his body still burning with anger towards Christine. She was so eager to paint him the villain for the way things had ended between them in Paris, but did she give no thought to how he saw the situation?

He'd had the bomb of surprise fatherhood dropped in his lap- who could blame him for the initial shock, confusion and frustration he'd felt in those first few days? Then, Shaliman customs paired with his own sense of right and wrong on the subject of marrying Elita, at once warring with his new-found love for Christine! It had almost been a blessing to him that Christine had left, for her absence had allowed Erik to focus on his daughter.

Once Nicole's paternity had been proven after the birth, Erik had set to work on building up a life that would center on his daughter. He'd remodeled the guest room into a nursery room for the baby, opened provision accounts for her schooling and future needs and rooted out the barriers in his life that had for so long kept him from the one thing he'd both desired and feared: love.

He loved Nicole more than he could say, but his heart still missed Christine. Perhaps he would always miss her.

Erik was angry, but all at once he felt the truth descend upon him- he and Christine would never be. How could they be, after the way he had raged at her? _Well,_ he thought, with sudden determination, _I will have to learn to live without her. If she cannot move on from our past and into the future with all it entails, then we were not meant to be. Goodbye Christine, my love..._

Erik strode through the corridor, purpose in his every step. There was no hesitation as he drew back a curtain and stepped through the doorway that lead into the harem.

His presence was greeted with immediate hushed whispers.

"Sire, welcome!"

"Sire, do not speak- the baby is asleep."

"It is wonderful to see you, Great One."

He nodded and greeted the few junior courtesans who remained within the harem. They were still in their training, and had been assigned the task of watching over the child rather than attend the celebration that was taking place just down the corridor. If they were unhappy with their charge, they knew better than to voice it to him.

Erik allowed his lips to quirk, realizing the irony that these junior courtesans were perhaps only a touch older than Christine had been when she'd been taken to America. They fluttered around him like butterflies in their colorful robes, beautiful and gentle. "Where is the baby?" He asked the nearest one, a pretty girl with interesting grey eyes.

She smiled at him, eager as the others for his attention. "We have her right over here, my lord." The girl led him to a chaise lounge, where Nicole slept surrounded by silk pillows. "She is a wonderful baby, so sweet-natured. She has only been asleep for the past hour or so."

Erik nodded and reached down to stroke Nicole's back. "Yes, she is a wonderful girl." He frowned for a moment and pulled his hand away. "Her...her parents wish to see her, and as you know my brother and I are the only men permitted into the harem, so I volunteered to bring the baby to their room." Erik was inwardly counting the days until his return to France, so that he could do away with the lie of David being Nicole's father.

The courtesans nodded eagerly and quickly moved to place Nicole into his arms.

As the weight of the tiny body settled against his chest, Erik felt his tension from earlier dissipate. Nicole calmed him.

He held the girl to his shoulder and thanked the young women who had watched over her, then started on the way back to his own private chambers.

Erik entered quickly, barely taking notice of his surroundings, heading towards his bedroom. Gently, he laid Nicole down in the center of his bed and put a pillow on either side of her to be sure that she wouldn't roll too far from the center.

Not wasting any time, Erik changed out of his suit and removed his mask. He made quick work of splashing his fully bare face with cold water, and glared at himself in the mirror. _You're such an idiot_, he thought. _Why do you persist in...love is not for you, Erik, not that kind of love, anyway. Learn to be happy with what you've been blessed with. You have more than you deserve with Nicole._

Nicole drew his attention away for a moment with a strange cooing sound in her sleep. Erik strode back into the bedroom in time to see her roll onto her back; he smiled and moved onto the bed, though he knew he wouldn't sleep. He took Nicole into his arms and rested her against his chest as he reclined back against the headboard, content to just hold her for awhile.

He slowed his breathing and allowed his nerves to settle as Nicole shifted against him and curled in closer. For a moment Christine's face flashed in his mind. _No...this is all the love I'll ever need..._

Erik spent the night trying to convince himself that he could live without her, but his heart called him a fool and a liar.


	38. It Ends

Erik stared at the ceiling, his mind swimming in and out of thought as he struggled to stay awake in the earliest hours of the morning._ I've killed any chance I might have had for a life with Christine_, he thought. _She will move on, I want her to be happy. Will I ever be happy without her?_

Nicole moved against him again as she slept on his stomach; he smiled at how safe and content she seemed. She trusted him. Erik stroked her hair, interested to see that her hair was longer than that of most children her age. Truly, the girl was a marvel.

_My daughter is_ _exceptional._ _Nicole loves me, and I love her more than anything...but with partial custody I will not have her to myself every day. In time, I will be lonely again. Lonely for Nicole, and as always, I will be lonely for a mate. I will grow to be lonely for Christine._

Erik sighed and settled Nicole onto the bed beside him, and moved to plant his feet on the floor. He rested his elbows over his knees and blinked a few times in the dark. Frustrated and tired, he ran his hand over the scars on his face and then up, through his hair.

_What the hell am I doing?_ _Christine doesn't know what she wants from me and I don't know if I could give her what she needs. Even if we tried to make it work, could we be happy or would I just end up making her miserable?_

Erik took a deep breath and stood to peer into a mirror mounted on the near bedroom wall. He stared into his own eery golden eyes and quietly said the words he already knew to be true. "I'll always be miserable and lonely if I can't learn to love a woman."

He walked to the balcony and stepped out to look over the view of the capitol city. His room was on a different side of the palace, and he was able to see a few different office buildings and community centers. The familiar skyline had had a calming effect on him in the past but it held no comfort now, not now when he knew he could very well face a life alone thanks to his own hurt pride and anger.

_I came back to her because I was eager to find a wife once my abdication to Kumar took place. Christine agreed to help me, and in her I found a woman who could love me. I love her, but I can't have her when she remains in the past. Christine...Christine, move forward with me, join the family I've made with Nicole..._

Erik hung his head and groaned as his mind replayed the scene he'd made with Christine in the gardens. He'd called her out on her behavior- running from him and ignoring his attempts at contact for months, her anger at being placed second behind the child, her bitterness about the way he'd ignored her feelings when she'd been a girl in Shalimar- but what of him?

_I did push her to the side when Elita told me of her pregnancy. I did ignore her infatuation with me in Shalimar. I hurt her, terribly, even more so tonight._ He sighed and looked further out over the city, to the horizon. _I hope she hits me the next time I see her, God knows I deserve it! _

He turned back into his bedroom and groaned, thumping his head repeatedly against the nearest pillar. Though he would have liked to crack his own skull, he was careful to keep quiet. It wouldn't be fair to wake his baby girl with the noise of his bludgeoning himself. _Right, get a hold on yourself, idiot._

The man sat down on the corner of his bed, tired but refusing to sleep, unable to yell out his frustration.

Instead, Erik simply sat there, and watched his daughter sleep.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later found Erik in the same place he'd been, sitting on the corner of his bed, but he turned as a slice of light invaded the dark. Light was visible on the floor, coming in from under the door to his study, the very office where most of his decisions as king had been made.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he saw a shadow moving across the floor. Who would be in his study at this hour?

Erik felt an instinct of protection sweep over him. Was it an intruder? A thief?

His brow furrowed and silently he rose from the bed, ready to let some of his frustration out in any way he could. In a perverse way, he hoped for a bit of danger if only so that he might have something- _someone_- to attack. Erik moved to the doorway and watched as the shadow came closer and closer. Whoever was on the other side of the door was trying to remain as quiet as possible; were they searching for palace documents or just money?

_No one is permitted into my office, this intruder has just signed his own death warrant!_

Erik cracked his knuckles and whipped the door open, launching his arm through the doorway and banded his hand around a slim neck before he could even stop to recognize the pretty face staring back at him.

Surprised, Erik immediately released Christine. "What the-? Christine, what are you doing in here?"

Recovering from her shock, Christine launched out her own hand, slapping Erik across the face, hard enough that his head snapped back from the sting of it. "Are you crazy?" She demanded. "You were trying to strangle me! What the hell is the matter with you?!"

Erik shook his head, his face still stinging from her hand. "I was trying to catch a thief, how was I supposed to know you'd be sneaking around my study at three in the morning?" He growled.

For a long moment, they glared at each other.

Then, their cold stares dissolved into near hysterical laughter.

Erik lead her to a pair of wing chairs in the office, away from his bedroom, both of them still giggling from exhaustion and the absurdity of the situation. Erik brought his hands to his face, catching the tears of laughter and smiled at her. "So what brings you here at this hour, Christine?"

The girl took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Once Christine had calmed down, she recalled her earlier resolve in coming here. The whole thing seemed so heartbreakingly silly now. "I came for an apology, and to tell you that you're an arrogant jackass."

Erik raised his eyebrows. "You're such a charming young lady. After all I said in the garden, I can't blame you for saying so."

She glanced down at her hands, then back up to him. "You really think I left you because I was jealous of the baby? I didn't leave...I mean, maybe I did feel like you pushed me away, but I was also afraid that you were going to marry Elita. I do love you, Erik, but sometimes you really drive me crazy." She sighed and put her hands over her face.

Erik smiled, sadly. "I didn't mean to push you away, Christine. It was like a bomb fell in my lap when Elita told me, and I didn't know the right thing to do. Though I'm French, I didn't want to go against Shaliman customs, but...more than anything I didn't want to be like my own father." He admitted.

Christine reached forward to touch his hand. "You're nothing like him, Erik."

"Aren't I? Bhaskar enjoyed women, particularly models- my mother was a print model too, did I ever tell you that? He didn't marry the mother of his first child. Does that remind you of anyone?" Erik asked, his voice dry. He sighed. "I am not a complete copy of him, but I am like him in all the worst ways."

The girl across from him shook her head. "Stop, Erik. If you were like him you would have shut Elita and Nicole out of your life, if you were like Bhaskar then this country would have collapsed in on itself by now. You're a good man, Erik. And look on the bright side- soon you won't be the king any longer, you'll be free to go back to France and have the life you always wanted."

Christine had been hurt by Erik's words before, but she'd taken much time alone to look at things from his perspective. Perhaps they had both been far too selfish and had not taken the time to think things through- it was not surprising, considering that neither of them had been faced with such a situation before. Yes, Erik had been harsh in the gardens, and he had shut her out in Paris; but Erik was not a bad man. Occasionally selfish, demanding, unsure and frustrated, no doubt, but underneath it all there was a good heart.

She only had to see him with Nicole to know just how good he was inside.

Erik shrugged, furrowing his brow. "I don't know if what I wanted before is what I want now. Do you remember? Before, I had thought that a civil wife would be enough- a woman that would eventually come to care for me, maybe not as a man, but as a friend. I'd had no notion of love before we were together in Paris, and that ended much too quickly." His eyes rose to hold her gaze. "I would have asked you to stay with me, Christine. It doesn't matter now, but I want you to know that I would have asked you to marry me...I would have asked you to show me what it all meant."

She stared at him in the dim light of his study; this was not the Erik she had always known, so remote and guarded, this was Erik as he really was. Take away the trim suits, the masks of total control, rigid discipline and stern reserve, and all that was left was the man. This was Erik. Her cool eyes moved over him, greedily absorbing the sight of a king undone. Erik was dressed in his standard set for the night- black silk pants with a matching long-sleeved shirt. She still had not seen his body, and what little she had seen in those few days in Paris had faded from her memory.

His hair was mussed, his scarred face uncovered, his scarred hands naked, folded in his lap. Erik was no king, he was only a man.

Christine took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. "Erik, I don't know what you want from me. It's all wrong, we can't marry now. You have a life waiting for you in France and I have a life waiting for me in America. I can't leave everything and I would never ask you to-" Her voice caught, and she felt the salt sting in her eyes. "We're more different than I realized...we're too different."

Erik closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her. "I know. I just wanted you to know that I did love you. I still do. It's too little, too late now, though, isn't it?"

Christine rubbed at her eyes, hating that the tears would come now. Erik reached for her and she didn't resist as he pulled her to him. He held her, stroked her hair and back, trying not to notice her perfume or that she was as soft as he remembered. "Erik, I love you too. But I'm sorry, I can't leave everything behind and I'm...I'm afraid you'll hurt me again." She confessed quietly.

His voice was very thick. "I understand."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right, Christine. I want you to live your life. More than anything, I want you to be happy. You know I would never leave Nicole, and it's not fair to ask you to leave your life behind for me. But thank you for letting me vent in the gardens." He added, hoping to make her smile.

Christine laughed and swatted Erik's arm, though her tears did not stop. "I'll yell at you next time. What are we doing, Erik?"

He took a deep, shuddering breath. There was a new resolve in his voice now. "We are doing what we se out to do, Christine."

"What?"

"Remember the original reason I invited you back to Shalimar?"

Christine thought back, and then it hit her. "Yes, I recall it now. We're...we're..."

"We're parting on peaceful terms, Christine."

Before Erik could stop himself, his lips found hers in the night.


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: A bit of filler, sorry. I just came back from vacation and my head's just not into writing right now, but no worries, a happy ending is on the way. Read, review and enjoy!**

* * *

Erik pressed his lips to hers, seeking the love she'd earlier claimed, determined to show her the love of his own. Christine leaned into him, smoothing her hands over his clothed chest. Distantly, she realized that she could feel his scars through the thin material, but that thought was fleeting, lost in the tide of thrilling joy that swept over her. His hands lifted from her waist to smooth through her hair, to cup her shoulders and face.

It was a different kiss, this, a kiss of co-mingled sadness and peace. Christine moaned slightly, unable to hold the sound back as years of love came over her. As painful as it was, she knew that she was a slave to her devotion- she loved Erik, and he now loved her.

But there was too much between them just now; family ties, differing careers and remembered pain would keep them apart for now.

_For now._

A high, piercing cry intruded upon them, drawing them apart. Erik looked back to the doorway leading into his bedroom, where Nicole was now crying for him.

On instinct, he took a step toward the sound of his distressed baby, but stopped himself to look back to Christine. He took her hands into his own, hoping she could understand. "She needs me."

Christine sighed lightly, and gave him a slight smile. "So do I, but I'm willing to wait, Erik."

He smiled back at her, sadly, and retreated into the darkness of his room.

By the time he'd soothed Nicole and settled her back to sleep, Christine was gone.

* * *

Somehow, the days passed; a great blur of activity during the day and recurring nightmares during the nights. Erik assumed it was the stress. He had much to do for his brother's ascension. There were speeches to make, promises to be kept and tasks to be completed before essentially handing the keys to the kingdom over to Kumar. Through it all, Christine was never far from his mind.

Erik was tempted to find her again, to seek her out for some precious time to be spent together, but she was gone from the palace more often than not, working with Kalila and Belinda on the memoirs of her father. He thought it might be just as well- they were both back in Shalimar for a sense of duty. She to her late father and Erik to his brother and his people.

There was no time for each other now.

He glanced down at Nicole. She was sitting on the ground beside him, doing what any child her age might be doing, trying to eat the flower he'd just handed to her. Elita frowned. "We might as well feed her the whole garden, she'd tried to eat everything in sight!"

Erik glanced up. "I think she gets that from you. Go on and take the picture, Eli."

Elita rolled her eyes and snapped several pictures in succession, and then scrolled through her camera. "Ah, here's one. You know I've spent my career restoring the work of old masters, but our little princess is better than any art. Isn't she a marvel?"

Erik leaned over to have a look at her camera, and smiled. Nicole was there on the tiny screen, holding the white flower down by her side. The look on her face was calm, happy. A perfect picture. "Yes, she is wonderful. Elita, do you ever worry about what will happen when she grows older?"

Elita put her camera back into the bag she'd brought along for their time in the garden. "What she grows up? Well, of course I worry about her, Erik. There's not a parent in their right mind that doesn't worry about their children, but by that same account I am determined to do my best. Aren't you?"

He nodded. "You know I am. I just...I want her to be happy, that's all."

Thought she was younger than Erik, Elita knew that she was wiser in the deeper aspects of life. Erik had never been in a real relationship with a woman before, and so he had difficulty expressing himself to the one woman he did love, Christine. His upbringing had been tumultuous at best, and so Bhaskar's sins were to blame when he'd found himself unable to cope with the news of his fatherhood. Elita knew that was behind him now, since Erik had grown and changed so much as a man since Nicole had come into their lives, but he still faced a block when it came to allowing himself to love another.

She moved a little closer to him, and put a comforting hand over his shoulder. "Erik. Just because you want for Nicole's happiness doesn't meant that you can't be happy too." He tried to move away but Elita wouldn't let him. She pressed on, "I know it's not my place to tell you how to live your life, but you can have it all if you want it. You can have France, Nicole and Christine. You can have the life you've always said you wanted. Maybe not right this moment, but in time, perhaps it will come to you."

He smiled at her, sadly. "You're a good woman, Elita, and an even better friend. David is very lucky."

She winked, and brought Nicole into her lap so that she could fix their girl's hair. Her pretty eyes found his. "And you were a fool to let me go, but let's not rehash the past, eh?"

Erik looked at Nicole and smiled. "Yes, you're right as always. It's time to stop living in the past, and start looking forward to the things ahead."


	40. Drastic Action

Numbly, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other down the expansive corridor. Portraits of past reigning kings glared down at him, all seeing, all knowing that he was an essential mistake. He never should have ruled, he never should have been born.

His mother had been taken from him in this place- he never should have stayed.

The sky outside was bright, the smoke long cleared. The palace within was silent, devastated by the attack and shocked at the revelation that their king was not the man they thought.

He cared for none of it. Shalimar, the whole world, was dead to him now. It was over for Erik DeRoux, but something twisted had compelled him to see her one last time.

Erik swallowed, his knees nearly buckling under the immense weight of the gaping wound in his chest. Once, he had been almost heartless, but now that heart was beyond broken. His heart, his very reason for life, had been torn away from him.

His vision was blurred with tears, but he blinked rapidly when he reached the end of the hall. Distantly, he could hear televisions buzzing with the news...

"Explosion occurred just outside the Shaliman palace-"

"Reported several dead, dozens more wounded-"

"Still waiting on word from the royal family-"

Attending servants on either side of the end door stood, motionless and impersonal as Erik passed them by. They said nothing, though they knew the truth now- everyone did, but the secret was lost in the attack.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a source directly above. There were no windows, no plants, no other furniture. It was cold, it was empty.

In the center of the dark, barren room, was a low, carved stone table. Draped upon it, a pure white sheet.

There was a tiny body beneath the sheet.

Erik knew that body. He had done his part in creating it, loving it.

The body beneath the sheet did not stir. The body would not hold onto his fingers again, it would never laugh, never cry and never, ever look at him with warm, trusting eyes.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment as he kneeled before the table and felt the full weight of his loss descend upon him.

_I made you, and I loved you with everything I had, Nicole. It wasn't enough. I'm sorry._

His hands trembled, but he forced himself forward.

_Do it, do it, you have to be sure._

He gripped the edge that draped the table.

_Look at her, you have to know._

Erik lifted the sheet.

* * *

He awoke in a desperate terror, cold sweat soaking his nightclothes. Panting, the golden eyes of the king searched the dark as reality returned.

_It wasn't real._

_Nicole is safe, safe, safe!_

Still, Erik stood and took a few shaky steps over to the corner where his daughter's improvised cradle rested, a gilded basket full of silk cushions and a white mink stole to keep her warm. She had not slept with him for the past two nights, due to his nightmares- some had been more violent than the rest.

There she was, Erik's whole world. He sank to his knees and bowed his head to the side of her cradle, giving a short, silent prayer of thanks that all was well, at least for the moment.

She slept there, oblivious to him and everything else. Her short brown curls bloomed around her face like a tiny flower, the wispy fans of her lashes remained down as she breathed deeply. She was not sucking her thumb, but her hand was resting against her open mouth. Carefully, Erik moved her hand hand away, and marveled for a moment on the sight of her small hand within his own.

_My baby girl, my princess. I will finish with Shalimar, and we will return home. I won't let history repeat itself- that wrath will not happen twice!_

Bitter, cold determination swept over him, and Erik rose to look at the view outside his balcony. His head pounded as the memory of burning steel and smoke rose once more in his mind, though he struggled against the pain he'd kept hidden for so long.

He stamped down the memory of his own panic from that day and took a deep breath.

_We have remained here for too long. I've let myself become distracted. Tomorrow I will end this, and send Nicole back to France with Elita and David. I will remain long enough to fulfill the abdication ceremony and then it will be over. _

He glanced back at Nicole, and stroked her hair.

_It must be._

* * *

"Why do you wish to rush the ceremony, brother? You've only just arrived- the people love you, it will cause problems if the country is just thrown from one king to the next."

Erik glanced back at Kumar, who was pouring their drinks.

Royal blood coursed through their veins, but what man was too high to pour for himself? They were in private council, no servants had been admitted within the room to attend to them. Kumar handed the glass to his shaken older brother, all the while wondering what the real problem could be.

The younger man sighed. "You look like hell, Erik. Has something happened with Christine?" Kumar knew the subject was a sore one, but he had to know.

It was early in the morning, so early the sun had not yet risen, but both men were accustomed to demanding hours.

Kingship was not for the weak.

Erik frowned and shook his head. "No, it's nothing to do with her. I haven't seen her since...it's not about Christine. It's about Nicole."

At the mention of the baby, Kumar smiled. "Ah, yes, Shalimar's secret princess. How is my golden girl?"

The older man's lips quirked slightly, but his voice remained serious. "She's fine. I've been keeping her with me during the nights, and bringing her back to Elita in the early mornings."

"Why go through all that trouble just to see her sleep?"

Golden eyes flashed at him from behind the mask. "You will understand when you have children of your own. She's my daughter but I do not have all of her- Nicole's time is divided between Elita and I. Night is the only time I will have her to myself."

Kumar looked down into the depths of his glass, suddenly finding fascination there. "And this divided time, you'll live that way when you return to France?"

Distantly, Erik nodded. "It's called joint custody. It is fortunate that Elita and I live so close in the city, Nicole will never be far from reach. I will have her a few set nights of the week, and during the weekends. Otherwise she will be with her mother."

"And Elita's husband. Another man will be raising your daughter, Erik. She will call him father. You should have him killed." Kumar declared.

Erik looked up. "No, I'll not kill him. David is a good man, and loves Nicole as his own. He knows his place in her life, he will never be her father."

Kumar sighed slightly, feeling that his brother was foolish to allow any man near his child. "So what is it about Nicole that troubles you? Is she sick?"

"No, she's fine. I've just...there have been dreams."

"You would rush tradition for dreams?"

"Nightmares, Kumar. Visions of my mother's fate falling on Nicole."

A gulf of silence opened between them, lasting for several moments and swallowing any argument.

"You mean-"

"I've already spoken to Elita. She, David and Nicole will be leaving tonight. The abdication will take place tomorrow morning. I hope you can understand."

"I do. But Erik, what happened to your mother was an accident, you can't think the same thing would happen to your daughter-"

Erik turned on his brother, shoving him against the wall and he lifted the mask from his face.

Despite being brothers, Kumar had only seen Erik's face twice in his life- the sight was still jarring to him. "_This_was no accident!" Erik roared, indicating his scars. "You forget, I was there. I saw it happen. Say it again and I'll kill you right here, you fool." His grip on Kumar relaxed only slightly, Erik was trying to regain a hold on his temper. When he spoke again, he was calm, though no less dangerous. "Now, the abdication will take place tomorrow morning, and once it's done I will leave here. There will be no reason for me to return. I was never meant for this place, Kumar, we both know that. My kingship is over, and it's time for my life to begin."

Erik stepped away to replace his mask and Kumar smoothed down his shirt, feeling properly chastised. "I'm sorry, brother, I only meant-"

"No, I apologize. I...I shouldn't have said anything."

"I am king now, I could have you killed for less."

Erik rolled his eyes indulgently. "Of course you could. Now, once I leave here, I don't intend to return anytime soon. Do you think you're ready?"

Kumar stood up straighter, asserting himself. "Yes. I am a young man, but unlike you I have been preparing for my time as king since birth."

Erik shrugged, regarding his brother. It was true, Kumar was younger than he, but this young man was next in line to the throne by rights. He was Bhaskar's only legitimate heir; Shalimar needed him to guide the people forward.

He was prepared. He was ready.

Erik smiled at the young man and patted him on the shoulder. "I did forget for a time, Kumar. Thank you for reminding me."


	41. Understanding

Christine shifted her weight slightly as the limousine turned onto the narrow road that led to the airstrip on the outskirts of the capitol city. The private jets of the royal family were located in a hanger there, always ready to take to the sky in a moment's notice. There had not been much notice for her when Kumar had sought her out and invited her to ride with him there. Of course, there were no invitations when it came to the king, only orders given with a polite smile.

They had been friends during her time in Shalimar, though nowhere near as close as she'd been to Erik. Things might have been different between them if he had not been heir to the throne; in truth they had rarely spent much time together as he had always been wrapped up in some training exercise. Kumar's childhood had been endless lessons in Shaliman history, governing laws and preparation for his ascension to the crown. Christine's childhood had been little more than flowers, family, and her love for Erik. In a way, she had always felt sorry for Kumar.

They were very different people, but one common goal they shared was for Erik's happiness.

Kumar's way of his brother attaining it was far simpler than that of his traveling companion.

The young king glanced at her from the other end of the car. he'd always thought Christine was pretty, though in a western way that his brother could appreciate more than he could. Still, his preferences aside, this young woman made his brother happy. After everything that Erik had done for him, for Shalimar, Kumar felt that he had to at least talk to the girl, to coax her back into her brother's life.

"You should be with Erik. I think you know that."

Christine raised a brow and smiled at him. "You like to get right to the point."

"I expect it is a characteristic that will serve me well once my reign begins later today." Kumar said evenly, enjoying her company. She had always been pretty to look at when they were younger- now that they'd both matured a bit, he could see why Erik desired her so.

Christine frowned. "The abdication ceremony has been movd up? Why?"

"Ask my brother. He's had nightmares the past few nights and they've driven him mad. During his own kingship he'd very nearly worked himself into an early grave, trying to repair the damage that our father had caused. Now he can't escape Shalimar fast enough."

"He's leaving?" She asked.

Kumar scratched his cheek and glanced out the car window on his right. Dark eyes scanned the area, but he could see no one. "Erik will leave eventually, but he's sending his family back to Europe. He'll follow after them soon enough."

Christine followed Kumar's eyes until she caught sight of what he'd been looking for. Across the airstrip, she could make out a few figures moving about just inside the open air hanger, beside one of the royal jets. She could see Erik, David and Elita, who was holding Nicole. They were too far away to hear anything said, but Christine could already assume what was happening.

"Why is he sending them away? Erik can't stand to be away from Nicole." Christine said. She had seen how it had killed the man to be away from his daughter, even if only during the days. She knew Erik well enough to know that he would give his life for Nicole, and that he had been far from happy pretending that she wasn't his child during their stay in the palace.

Kumar moved closer and sighed, shaking his head. "Simply put, the man is paranoid. Delusional, maybe. He told me of recurring nightmares about Nicole, and he took the dreams to be a sign that she should be back home in France." He glanced at Christine. "You know what happened to his mother- Erik has let himself believe that the same thing will happen to Nicole. God help us all if it did."

Feeling foolish and child-like in her ignorance, Christine cleared her throat. Erik had never been forthcoming about his past, and her opportunistic logic figured that Kumar was as good a source of information as any. "Kumar...I don't know what happened to Erik's mother. I mean, he never told me the whole story."

He turned to her, brows raised. "He never told you?"

"No, not everything. I'd never ask him, you know. He hates to talk about his scars. I had always thought they were in a fire together and that Erik had been the only one to survive." Christine admitted. She had seen his face and thought that a fire had been a logical conclusion, though she had thought it would be cruel to ask him for details, to force Erik to relive such horrific memories.

The younger man nodded. "Ah, I see Erik is as secretive as ever, even with the woman he wants as a wife. He would have told you, I think, but only if you'd begged to know." Kumar took a deep breath. "Christine, Erik's mother was killed in a car explosion. He'd been standing close when it happened. He saw everything."

Christine gasped to hear such a thing, her heart swelling to hear the horrible tragedy that had shaped Erik into who and what he was.

Kumar, for his part, had never known Erik's mother, and when he thought on the subject, he didn't know if he could say he'd ever truly known Erik. When he'd been younger, Erik had been intimidating, this sudden stranger in his life. Kumar had known Erik only briefly before the explosion, but after his brother had been released from the hospital, after months of surgery and recovery, even he had recognized a change in the man. Where once he'd been merely quiet and polite, Erik had changed- the man that had returned to the palace had been reclusive, acerbic, and terribly bitter, angry with the world.

Time had gone by, and Erik's fury had lessened, though he had grown suspicious at every shadow, always ready to attack but never to trust. The few occasions when he would venture out of his room in the palace, Erik had covered himself completely- the masks had become Erik's face to the world, and eventually the world forgot the way he had looked before the explosion.

Thinking on it, Kumar realized that it was Christine, in all her innocent love, who had brought the humanity back to his brother.

"And his scars?"

Kumar cleared his throat, bringing himself back to the present. "Burn scars, mostly on his face and hands, though his arms and chest are scarred as well. There had been some lacerations on his torso from the debris, but it was removed and he'd had stitches. I don't think the scars matter to him that much anymore. If Nicole isn't bothered by them...but his mind was the most damaged, I think. You must have noticed how difficult it is for him to trust people. A valuable trait in a leader, but a great fault in a man." Kumar said gravely.

Christine felt her stomach turn for Erik, for what he must have suffered. "My God...his mother, she died right in front of him..."

"Erik believes that it was not an accident. After what he's revealed our father capable of, the ways he's exploited our people and gone to such lengths to cover the truth, it wouldn't surprise me to know that Bhaskar planned the whole thing. Still though, why kill Adele and leave Erik? At the time, he had been seen as the threat to the throne, not her." Kumar sighed. "Maybe it had been an accident, maybe an attempt at assassination. It no longer matters; all that matters now is that Erik is allowed the life he's worked his whole life for. He wanted France- he'll be back there soon enough. He wanted children- he now has a daughter. He wanted you- and he'll have you again, Christine."

She laughed a little and rolled her eyes. "You sound so sure."

"And you are not sure? You can do no better than Erik. I was told there was love between you."

Christine hesitated. "There is, I just don't know if it'll be enough. Our lives are so different."

"Then you do not deserve my brother!" Kumar snapped. "Any woman in Europe would fall over herself to be mistress to a man of his standing. My brother deserves only the best after everything that's happened. I will not rest ntil I know that he is happy."

Christie felt her heart swell once more, to see Kumar so protective of his brother. It was endearing to know that under their competitive mocking, they truly did care for each other. She cleared her throat. "I know that. Erik and I have agreed to wait until our lives are more settled. With all that is happening now, jumping into a relationship would be too much to handle."

At her words, Kmar visibly relaxed. "You'll be with him, then?"

She nodded. "Someday. Yes."

In a very arrogant, aristocratic way, Kumar inclined his head. Christine tried not to laugh at him. "See that you do. My brother deserves the best."

"Aw, Kumar, was that a compliment?"

Dropping his royal reserve for a moment, he winked at her. "You'll never know."

* * *

Erik watched as the stark white jet took to the sky; his eyes did not leave its path until it had disappeared into the clouds, taking David, Elita and his baby Nici back home to France. He had not genuinely wanted them to leave, but the nightmares had made him paranoid. Ignoring tradition with his usual bull-headed resolve, Erik was determined to hand off the crown to Kumar and be done with Shalimar all together.

The sooner he could vanish to Paris, the better. It was there that he hoped for a pleasant life with Nicole, and if she would have him, Christine. They had not seen much of each other lately; she so busy with her father's book and Erik so wrapped up in the ceremonial preparations. Those would all end soon- he planned for a fast abdication, a few speeches both to the people and his brother, but no more.

After today, Erik planned to disappear.

* * *

"Erik?"

The man glanced up from his document and felt himself smile, something he hadn't done since sending Nicole back to Europe only an hour or so before. Christine was standing in the doorway to his study, her eyes unsure, her body artfully draped in a Shaliman robe of deepest jade.

He set his pen aside and hurriedly stood up to greet her. "Christine, good morning." He held his hand out to her, and was pleased when she took it and allowed him to guide her further into the room. She looked wonderful and he was startled to feel his heart begin a hammer-beat within his chest. He'd missed her these past few days.

He sat down across from her in the pair of French wingbacks he'd placed by the large window, and wondered at the worried expression on her face. "Is everything all right? How is your father's book coming?"

Christine swallowed and shrugged. "Oh, the book is fine. Kalila and I have been trying to make it perfect."

He nodded. "I know, I haven't seen you around lately."

"When not working on the book I've been with Belinda. This is a special experience for her, she wants to see all the sights."

His lips quirked. "I've lived her for most of my life and even I haven't seen everything. She will have to come back someday. Christine, are you all right? You look upset."

She had been looking at her fidgeting hands, but looked up to him. Erik was startled to find that her eyes were wet. "Christine, tell me. Did something happen?" He asked, more firmly this time. Erik took her hands into his, the familiar urge to protect her was unrelenting.

Shaking her head, Christine swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "No, Erik, not to me."

He reached forward to tug gently on a lock of her hair, the way he always had in the past. "Then what, Christine? Please, you can tell me."

She stood abruptly, pacing, agitated. "I...Erik, I want to know if...when we can be together, if you'll be able to trust me enough to love me."

Behind the mask, Erik's brow furrowed in confusion. He stood and took her hands into one of his once more, the other came to rest on her shoulder. "Christine. I do love you. Since you left me in Paris I've had nothing but time to think about all I've done wrong in the past. When you're ready, I'll be waiting for you."

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. Erik held her, loving her warmth, her scent, loving her. She was upset, but he couldn't understand why. He dreaded her answer, but Erik had to know. "Christine, have you changed your mind? It's all right if you have- you've always had that choice."

Against him, Christine shook her head. "No, Erik. I haven't changed my mind. It isn't about me- when we're both ready, we can be together. I just...I have to know if you'll be able to let yourself trust me, to love me."

"What do you mean? I do love you, and I thought you knew that."

"I thought I knew many things, but the longer I'm with you, the more I learn-"

"What are you talking about, Christine? Tell me what you mean." He demanded, tiring of her speaking in circles.

Christine hung her head slightly. "Kumar told me...he told me how you received your scars. He told me everything, Erik. You were a different man before it happened, and afterwards you could trust no one."

He held her still, but Christine had felt his body stiffen as she'd told him all that she'd learned. The arms around her, at first so comforting, tightened into steel clamps. She waited for Erik to say something, anything, but he only held her.

She looked up and found his eyes to be cold, amber glass. He had hidden himself from her again, perhaps as a knee-jerk reaction to subjects he preferred be left to rest. Erik sighed lightly and released her, thankful that he felt more in control now; things were far too delicate between them to lose his temper the way he had with Kumar the night before.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself to go kill Kumar when he had the chance and to hell with the consequences.

"Erik?"

He looked up. "That was my story to tell, not his. Kumar stepped over the line in telling you."

"If Kumar hadn't told me, would I ever have known?"

Erik hesitated. "I would have told you, eventually. When the time was right and if there was a reason to talk about it. Obviously it's not something I appreciate being brought up, but since you mentioned it first, what is it that you want to know?"

She could hear the underlying edge to his voice, and Christine knew that she had gone about this entirely the wrong way- who was she to confront him with questions about such a painful subject? Christine swallowed. "Nothing, I just-"

"No. Tell me. You asked if I trusted you- no, you asked if I _could_ trust you. You think trust and love are so beyond me? That I'm so damaged I can't understand what it is to confide in another person?" He asked.

"Erik, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It seems you are still curious about your masked friend. To make things even, I'll tell you a secret from Kumar's past. When he was seventeen he was-"

"I don't want to know about him, Erik! I really don't care. All I care about is you. I didn't mean to drop my questions on you like this."

"But you did. Did you come to see my scars?"

"No, Erik. I know that you'll show me what you're ready. I'm sorry, I just have these doubts that cloud my mind." Christine sighed. "I had no reason to doubt you, and I am sorry."

He put his arms around her once more, no longer angry and content just to be with her now. "It's all right, Christine. I know I am not the...easiest man to understand, but with you I do intend to try. You deserve better than what I've been. For you I will be my best."

She leaned further into him. "Erik, you already are."


	42. Fathers

It was strange to be back home, no longer a king, and no longer alone. Erik stretched his back slightly, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling of his Parisian bedroom. Its plain coloring was strangely comforting to him.

Had it only been a week ago that he'd been king of an entire nation, with servants, advisers and courtesans awaiting to attend to his every whim?

Erik thought it might have all been a dream, but the large bruise on his jaw- still tender- attested that it had been real, none of it illusion. He had been a king, his father Bhaskar was dead, his mother Adele was dead, and his half-brother Kumar did not need bodyguards to fight for him.

Rolling his eyes, Erik tried not to laugh as he recalled the globally confused news broadcasts of the abdication ceremony. He and his brother, disheveled, visibly bruised and cut, passing on the crown.

_It's his own fault for sharing my secrets with Christine, the little brat._

After Christine had left his study to find Belinda and Kalila to depart for the rushed abdication ceremony, Erik had wasted no time in his search for Kumar. Anger at his brother was a rare thing, but Erik was a private man and it had not been Kumar's place to have told Christine the horror of his past.

Truly, Erik would have told her, but not without a reason. He would have waited until she'd asked him for the whole truth, preferably when they'd reunited and had managed to start their new life together. Christine learning the truth from his gossiping brother at a time like this was not what Erik had wanted. Was it so wrong of him to have wanted to keep such a thing private?

_Damn Kumar, who do you think you are to tell Christine what happened to me?! It was my life, my story!_

He'd stormed into Kumar's dressing room, catching the younger man by surprise and, uncaring of the attending servants, Erik moved straight toward him, fist raised.

Kumar knew what was coming, and hadn't tried to duck as Erik landed a hammer-blow against his jaw. The younger brother had only stumbled back as he took the hit, and forced himself to smile at Erik. "Is that all there is, old man?"

Erik growled and raised his fist again, advancing on him, but Kumar lashed out with his own hand, catching Erik on the jaw. His mask cracked and fell on the floor, the delicate thing shattered there between them.

It was as if a switch was flipped, and the men smiled just before attacking each other.

Who knows why, perhaps they fought to relieve stress, but it didn't matter. Kumar landed a hand punch to Erik's middle, and he sank to the floor. Kumar felt the thrill of triumph, but it lasted only for a moment, as Erik swept his legs out from under him. The younger man's head hit the floor and before he knew it, Erik was straddling his chest, pinning his arms down with his knees.

They wrestled and brutalized each other for nearly half an hour, destroying the room's furniture in the process, before a gentle knock at the door gave them a reason to pause. Erik opened the door to find a gentle-faced older man on the other side of the threshold.

The servant's face lost a bit of color at the sight of his two kings, both of them bloodied and bruised, clothes sweaty and torn, with the room torn apart. "What is it?" Erik snapped, irritated. "We were in the middle of a discussion."

Erik's voice snapped the man out of his trance. "Oh. Oh, my lords, the abdication is nearing. The press has assembled in the main hall. The palace staff and advisers are ready for you."

Kumar nodded, panting and holding his side. "Yes, we're almost ready. Give us...?" He looked to Erik.

Shrugging, Erik coughed slightly. "Maybe five minutes, we'll be ready. Bring me another mask, please. I'll need it before leaving this room."

Without waiting for the servant to reply, Erik let the door swing shut.

In the next few minutes, the men began to laugh as they'd made a pathetic attempt to ready themselves to face the world.

They had left the room and entered the grand hall amid gasps and fevered whisperings of the crowd. Trying not to dissolve into mad laughter again, Erik and Kumar went on with the rituals. Erik made a conscious effort not to search for Christine's face in the crowd, though he was sure her expression would be that of shock and confusion. He liked it when Christine was surprised, but not in this circumstance.

Together, and much worse for wear, Erik and Kumar performed the ceremony. The care of Shalimar changed hands, from one king to the next.

It was done.

That day seemed like a lifetime ago now, but Erik was happy to be done with his service. He liked to think that his mother would be proud of him, though more for his fatherhood than his kingship.

Erik sat up and swung his feet down to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he rose and strode over to the nearest window for a look outside. Paris stretched out before him, sleepy and tranquil. It warmed his heart to be home again, and to know that he was free to stay, but there was still something missing, and her name was Christine.

Before leaving Shalimar for Paris, just after the abdication, he had found her.

"Christine, come with me back to Paris," he'd implored.

The girl blinked, taking in his battered appearance. "Erik, what happened? Who did this to you?!"

He'd only shaken his head. As sharp as he knew she was, Christine was a woman, and he didn't think she would understand why he and Kumar had beaten each other bloody and then laughed when it was over. There were some things meant to stay between men. "Never mind that- Kumar and I had to work out some things. Come to France with me. I'll make it work this time, I promise. We can be together."

Christine had kissed him then, but her stance was clear. She simply wasn't ready.

Erik had understood as best as he was able, and he had returned home to Paris empty-handed.

He shook his head and headed into the shower. Christine had promised to come to him when she was ready, and all Erik could do was wait. Still, if he could count on a definite day when his family, his life, would be complete, Erik knew he'd be better able to relax, rather than pace in anticipation for the vague "someday" that Christine would come.

So he waited, and hoped for her.

* * *

David stirred slightly at the sound of Nicole fussing in her crib. He groaned, hoping she would just go back to sleep, but Nicole was unused to being denied. Beside him, Elita woke and started to rise. David put a hand on her shoulder. "Go back to sleep, I'll take care of her." He assured her, his voice still groggy with sleep.

"You're sure?"

He nodded. "No worries, love. We'll spend some quality time together. I have the day off, remember?"

Elita smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, David."

He rubbed his eyes as he stood. "My pleasure."

He was proud of the small townhouse he'd bought; as a man, it had been his first major purchase toward his future. Before things had turned this path with Elita, he'd been content to live the bachelor life in a tiny apartment. When things had changed, and she had confessed her pregnancy, it had been a wake-up call. He'd taken the initiative then, and remade his life into what he thought would be worthy for Elita.

The truth was that they had shared a tipsy night of passion, and David had not thought anything would come of it. After all, it was no secret that Elita was a self-made woman of means, elegant and cultured, refined and very turned out; everything a Parisian should be. David had thought their night had been little more than a fling for her- she was a woman far beyond him, or so he'd thought.

No one had been more surprised than he when she had sought him out and confessed her pregnancy, little more than a year ago now.

He'd been cooking dinner after a particularly long day. David had made detective of his precinct just the year before, and worked hard to keep his area safe. No small feat, but he had pledged to do all he could. The pay for police work was notoriously low, but David had learned to be careful with his money, and did what he pleased with the rest.

Elita had come to him, frightened and ashamed. She was pregnant, and unsure of the child's father. As a man, David hadn't known what to say. Truly he was just shocked to see Elita- defined, put-together Elita- so upset and genuinely afraid. Seeing her tears had awoken something within him, and he felt the urge to step forward as protector to both her and the child.

They had been too tipsy to worry over being safe that night, but he hadn't thought...

Elita had told him of the other man, Erik DeRoux. David had been knocked speechless once she'd finished. This interloping stranger- a _king_ for God's sake!- could have fathered Elita's child. It had been a strange night, but the strangest revelation of all had been David's, that he felt bound by a protective instinct for Elita, for her child. People had always told him that he was a good man, he supposed that his want for good in the world had been what drove him to the police academy.

David had not thought of himself as being good or evil, he just _was. _

Still, it takes a good man to care for a woman who'd had another man's child. David didn't know if he was good now. He thought that he was selfish; he had grown to love Elita, he intended to make her his wife, and he adored little Nici. Nicole was not of his blood, but he still thought of the girl as his own daughter. Because of the custody arrangement that Elita had made with Erik, David spent just as much time with Nicole as her true father.

In a roundabout way, he'd been handed the family he hadn't known he'd wanted all along.

David liked Erik as much as he was able- Erik was not an easy man to understand, but he was grateful that neither one of them had given in to petty jealousies or pride on the subject of "their" daughter. They had not spent much time with each other since the time when Elita was in the hospital, giving birth. Other than that, their meetings were fleeting. Even in Shalimar, he'd barely laid eyes on the man.

He stepped into the nursery room, which would change to accomodate the little lady as she grew, and moved to the crib. The baby was fussing and stopped the moment she laid eyes on him. "Crocodile tears, Nici?" He asked. David picked her up and carried her through the house, feeling more alert and content to make the girl a bottle and himself a few cups of coffee.

Smiling, he set Nicole into her high-chair and quickly made her a bottle. Much as he loved the girl, he couldn't stand it when she cried- her voice was loud and grating enough to drive anyone insane. David poured himself a cup and sat beside Nici to feed her, watching as she sucked hungrily on the bottle tip. He knew that Erik was unable to find much of a resemblance between the baby and himself, but David could see Erik in the subtle flash of her eyes, and sense him in the stubborn demands she made.

Though Nicole was not as dark-skinned as her mother, the baby was worlds away from David's own deep coloring, courtesy of his Morrocan heritage. He put his hand on Nicole's arm, marveling for a moment on the difference of their races.

_Elita and I will have children that will resemble me more closely- perhaps even a son someday. Until then, I am happy to spend time with you, petite coquette._

Nicole only smiled.

* * *

While Elita was at work, arranging the details of the unveiling of her gallery's latest and greatest exhibit, David had the day to himself. Before his new life had unfolded, he might have spent his coveted free time with friends, playing a game of football or perhaps pick up a woman; he had no shame about his past, and knew that he was a terrible flirt. There had been lovers in his past, but Elita had never been bothered by them- just as he had never been bothered by hers, despite the fact that he lived with the proof of her last "adventure".

He didn't think of Nicole as some snide reminder of Erik's past with his fiancee, though other, lesser men might have.

Nicole was part of his family, and he knew the girl loved him. rather than stay inside for the day, David thought to take Nicole out for a while, help the girl to some fresh air.

"David?"

He turned to find Erik several feet away.

They were in a park, halfway between both their homes- the ideal place for a step-father and daughter to bond for a time, or so David had thought as he'd readied them both, packing a picnic lunch and securing a hat on Nicole to keep the sun off her face. David was not so bothered by the rays, a benefit of his race.

"Erik, what are you doing out in the daylight? I thought you'd burst into flames." David said, teasing him.

"Don't you have a few murders to solve? I was getting groceries and cut through the park for a shortcut. Care for some wine for your picnic?" Erik asked, lifting the bottle from his grocery bag. "Don't look so shocked, detective. Even vampires like Merlot."

David laughed and welcomed Erik to the lunch he'd been sharing with Nicole. He noticed how the girl began to bounce at the sight of the other man. Erik smiled back at her, reaching forward to tickle the palm of her tiny hand. "Elli is working today, and I have the day to myself so I thought to treat our girl to a day out. And you? No palace, no crown, no harem. Aren't you bored just being a man?"

Erik smiled ironically at David, and shrugged. "No, I can't say that I am. It was hell being a king, David. I've been looking forward to just being a man for a very long time."

"I know, Elita has told me what you'd went through while you were the king. No easy task, but from what I can understand you were successful in what you'd aimed to accomplish. Not everyone can say that."

Erik glanced at Nici, who was still sitting between them and sucking on an apple slice. "I'm close to having it all."

"What do you mean? I thought you and Christine were to-"

"She has an open invitation to join me whenever she is ready. She understands that I cannot, and will not leave Nicole. We have talked about it, several times. She's agreed to be with me here in Paris. She can continue her work here and stay in touch with what family she has left, but I have not heard from her since our last day in Shalimar." Erik added, trying not to sound petulant, but damn it all, he wanted Christine to be there with him.

He only wanted his family to be whole.

David could hear the anxiety laced in his friend's voice, and tried to offer what comfort he could. "She is probably trying to tie up all the loose ends she has in America. You know, with her work and her family. Maybe she hasn't contacted you because she's setting the stage for a surprise. She'll come, Erik, she said she would."

Erik nodded. "I know. I've just waited so long for everything to fall into place-"

"Then it should be no trouble for you to wait a short time longer. You're not the king, but you're still thinking like one, that everything should come into being the moment you decide. Give it time, what else can you do?"

Erik allowed himself to laugh a little. "You are right, David. I'm powerless."

"It's an awful feeling, isn't it?"

"The worst." Erik agreed.

David smiled. "Then, you will have to come with me to the Seine. I was going to take Nicole on her first ferry ride today, you should come with us."

Erik raised his brows, though David could not see behind his mask. "Are you serious? David, you don't have to do that- today is your day with Nicole." Though Erik truly did want to go with them, he didn't want to intrude on David's private time with their baby. Out of Nicole's three parents, David was usually caught with the least amount of time to spend with the girl thanks to his demanding job. Erik didn't want to take away from David's time, despite the fact that Nicole was his daughter, not David's.

"I'm not asking you, Erik. I insist. You need to be with family now, not stalking the streets of Paris looking for your next victim."

"We're back to the vampire thing again, are we, detective?"

"Of course. I'll be sure to steer us clear of any churches along the way to the boathouse."

Together, Nicole and her two fathers went fourth, happy and determined for a pleasant day out in the city.


	43. Family

Once Nicole was down in her crib, David returned to the kitchen to find Erik staring down into the depths of his wineglass. They had shared a nice afternoon out in the city with their daughter, first in the park and then on a river ferry. Erik had bought Nicole a flower an not to be outdone, David had bought her a balloon.

Nicole had tried to eat both.

David had let Erik come into his house, and served the man a glass of wine. He would be happy to have Erik share dinner with the family once Elita returned home from work, they didn't spend enough time together. Today had been the first time the two men had spent a length of time alone and had been surprised to find that they enjoyed each other's company well enough.

David frowned slightly as he approached. Erik looked distracted, unhappy.

"Erik. Are you all right?"

Erik looked up then. "Oh, yes. I am fine. Just looking for the strength to be patient, that's all."

David nodded. "She'll come, Erik! You will drive yourself right up the wall if you keep worrying like this. Christine said that she would come when she was ready, and what's to stop her?"

"I just worry that she may have second thoughts-"

"Only second thoughts? At this point it would be tenth thoughts, not second. You two have gone back and forth more times than I can count. Don't look shocked, my friend. You talk to Elita, who do you think Elita comes home and talks to? She is only concerned. I know just as much as she does about how you feel, and why you're afraid Christine won't come so don't feel the need to choose your words so carefully."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Elita always was a terrible little gossip. Do you mind if I strangle your fiance the moment she walks through that door?"

David raised his brows pointedly at him, "So long as that's all you do with her, Casanova. She gave you a daughter, but she'll give me sons."

Erik nodded his understanding to the vague warning, though the whole thing was pointless. He and Elita were adults, for God's sake, and had ended their relationship over a year ago. Nicole was the cherished memento of what once had been, but never would be again.

Despite the reassurances of his friends, Erik could not shake his worries. What if Christine did not come? What if she disappeared, just dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again? He tried not to let his mind chase these scenarios and their resulting misery, but Erik was powerless to stop his imagination. He only knew that this restlessness that had taken him over would not be gone until Christine was there with him.

He wanted to prove to her that he could be the man she'd loved, that he could make things work between them. He wanted to give himself to Christine in a way he'd never wanted to before. There it was, love again. It surrounded his life now, with no way for him to escape into the comfort of his past habits. Erik could never be what he once was. He was a father now, and a man in love. There would be no return to the cold, lonely soul he'd been in Shalimar. Somehow his world had changed, and he had changed with it.

Now Erik's main concern was to unite his two great loves, Nicole and Christine, and build a family.

_She'll come back to you- stop being so damn paranoid._

Both men looked up to see Elita step in through the front door. She saw them and her smile brightened. "Hello boys, what's the occasion?"

David lowered his voice slightly as he approached, indicating that she should do the same since Nicole was napping. "We bumped into each other earlier today in the park and thought it might be nice for the three of us to spend a little time together."

"A day out for Nicole and her two daddies, eh? That's sweet of you. Staying for dinner, Erik?" She asked as she set her purse and briefcase on the sofa.

Erik shifted his weight a little. "I don't want to intrude-"

"Nonsense! God, Erik, you are no burden to us, you're family." Elita groused. Beside her, David nodded.

_Family._

Erik felt reluctant, uncomfortable, as if their invitation was one born of pity. Still, they were insistent, and he could not think of a genuine reason to politely refuse. "All right, I will. Thank you."

Elita speared her fingers through her hair, ruffling it slightly. "Good. Now, you two go find a good red wine for tonight, and let me see Nici. By the time you get back I will have dinner started."

This was Elita's polite way of chasing the men out of the house, and they all knew it. She had worked a hard day, and only wanted to rest, to spend some time alone with her baby without the presence of men in the house.

David and Erik left the girls alone.

* * *

A little over and hour and a half later, after finding the requested red wine and then stopping into a bar for a quick drink and to check the match score, David and Erik returned to the townhouse to find Elita at the stove and Nicole in her chair at the table. David noticed that Elita had changed out of her work clothes and into a more casual pair of slacks and a pink twinset. He smiled, and thought of the day in the spring, when she would be his wife.

Elita smiled to see that Erik had stayed, rather than making some excuse to cancel dinner with them. She couldn't help but be concerned for the man; he had been so lonely for so long. She shrugged to herself as she saw him kneel down and greet Nici. The smile on the man's face chased the worries from her mind. So Erik was lonely for Christine, it didn't mean he was unhappy with all things in his life.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" David asked, his English was even worse than Erik's.

Elita laughed and swatted his hand when he pinched her waist. That was the trouble with men, she supposed, that once they learned a woman's ticklish spot they'd never leave it alone. David placed the wine he and Erik had found on the counter, turning it so that she could read the label. "You said a red, eh?"

She nodded. "That will go perfectly with this fillet," she said. "I've some new potatoes baking in the oven and a custard for dessert."

David glanced over to see that Erik was still toying with Nicole, touching her hair and tickling her palm. He had told his family and friends of his situation, nothing that occured between them all was a secret. He would be the first to admit that he hadn't known how to handle things when Nicole and Erik had come into his life, but then, they had all found their rhythm with each other.

David wouldn't have things any other way now; he only wished that he could say the same for Erik.

* * *

A few more weeks passed, in which there was little change in Erik's life. He continued with his work, doing all he could for the companies he'd taken on without leaving his home. It would be too taxing to explain to the boards why their latest international executive wore a mask. Besides never having met with any of the other employees to these select companies, Erik was happy to work with them. They produced quality reports and showed genuine potential for growth.

He particularly enjoyed being included in the funny chain e-mails. It made him feel like part of the team.

In time, Erik had grown closer to David and Elita; he was less a separate entity and now acted as the third corner in their triangle of parental love and friendship. As for Nicole, she seemed to grow before his eyes. Poor Elita was forever complaining that Nicole had grown out of this or that outfit. David only shook his head when he heard of Nicole's growth spurts- he suspected that Elita was using their girl as an excuse to go shopping.

They all met once a week for a family dinner, alternating between Erik's place and theirs.

Erik was content, but his restlessness was eating him alive. He had e-mailed Christine to see how she was doing, but he'd purposefully let out any mention of her coming to France to be with him, in the hopes that she would reassure him that she was on her way.

Christine never mentioned it. They only continued to exchange polite messages for a few more weeks.

He always found himself stopping in the middle of the day, wondering what Christine was doing right then. If she was doing a photo-shoot, or watching a movie or eating with Belinda...silly things, he knew, but it comforted him to think that she was happy, even when he was not.

Tonight was not his night to care for Nici. His daughter was likely tucked up tight with her mother and with David. Elita had called him earlier that day, very excited, to tell him that the baby was now dragging herself around on the floor, much like a seal pup. This was nothing new, Nicole had been able to do this for months already, but Elita was quick to tell him that she and David had walked in on her crawling, actually _crawling!_

That Nicole had learned how to crawl was a daunting thing- now that she'd learned, there would be no stopping her. Erik smiled to think of her crawling the next time he would see her, and that it would be no time at all before she started to walk.

_My girl is growing! She is so advanced, years beyond children of the same age- is it any wonder? She is a DeRoux!_

Pride coursed through his veins- his bright star would be more aware soon, she would be able to speak, to truly express herself to him. Nicole would be both daughter and companion, family and friend in one.

Erik set his work aside and made a quick mental note to deposit twice the normal amount into Nicole's trust fund- it was a special day, after all, her learning to crawl. He would also be sure to buy her an ice cream the next time he took her, as a reward.

Yawning, Erik closed the lights and made his way up to his bedroom.

He pushed up the door and stood for a moment, staring blankly at his empty bed.

He had loved Christine in this room, both at her insistence and his own. Here, she had become a woman and in a way, Erik had become a man. A man in love.

Where once he had fought his own heart, he knew now that it belonged to Christine, if only she would come back to him to claim it! Part of him wondered if she was trying to punish him for not having realized her feelings earlier, for not making her father let her stay with him in Shalimar. He shook his head, dismissing the idea. Christine was not so vindictive, and even if she was, it would be foolish to punish him for things that had been out of his hands at the time.

Erik undressed and slipped on a pair of cotton sleep pants, feeling more tired than he usually was at that hour. He placed his watch on the nightstand beside the picture of his mother, and stared at the ceiling until he could feel sleep taking him over.

It wasn't a noise that woke him, though he had heard slight creaks and muffled bumps downstairs- in his state of half-sleep, he'd assumed it to be the loft settling for the night, and he'd ignored it, trying to sleep.

No, it hadn't been the noise, it had been the instinctive pull that told him without question, _there is another person in my room._

Erik's eyes snapped open and he quickly rose from the bed, ready to fight to defend himself and his home, but he stopped himself as the roaming shaft of white light from the Eiffel Tower glided over his bedroom, illuminating the intruder.

"Christine!"


	44. Curtains

There had been a great deal of hesitation on her part; last minute panics and the deep dread that, after finally coming back to him, the whole thing could fall apart around her after only a mere few weeks. She had loved him for years, and given him all of herself...she had been hurt by the living truth of his past affair, and she had run from him.

The man loved her in return, and welcomed her back into his new life, but the pain of before had given her pause. Could she do it again? Give herself to him and live with the fear that it could all end again so easily? Shaliman belief was in her being; her soul would forever remain restless and unhappy if she was not reunited with her love. The instinct of self-preservation had warred with her desires for romance with the man she wanted above all others.

_He could hurt me again. We could destroy each other, feelings can change, and I will have left my life in America for nothing but pain...but Erik is worth that risk, and it's time I prove that I'm ready for him._

Her determination had been steeled with resolve. Christine had wanted Erik for so long, going to the lengths of scheming to have him, flaunting herself around his loft on her last visit to Paris...it was time for something real to be shared between them. No more trickery mixed with seduction, no more secret plans for him to fall under her spell. She wanted the real Erik or nothing at all.

Erik wanted her as his woman, as a part in the family he'd made without her.

Christine had asked herself is she could do it; the girl held no delusions that she and Erik would begin some fabulous decadent romance. Her sharp mind had considered things from several different angles. Nicole was central to Erik's life, and Christine wouldn't dream of trying to steal his affection away from the baby- she knew herself, but even Christine would draw the line at competing with a toddler for a man's attention. Both Erik's French and Shaliman heritages held certain principles that had been ingrained into his mind: the child, helpless in all things, would be his first responsibility.

She understood that, and accepted it. Christine didn't need to be the end all and be all of Erik's existence; it would be unhealthy if she was, but that did not mean that Christine could not have Erik's heart. After all, there was room for both she and Nicole- that was the reason for family, the sharing of love.

But along with Nicole, there was Elita. The woman had assured her from their first meeting that their was nothing more between she and Erik on an intimate level, that she loved only David. Could she trust Elita?

_Yes, I can. I have to. If nothing else, I do trust Erik._

The simple truth, that Christine loved and trusted Erik had been enough to spur her into action. She would join the man she loved in Paris.

Christine would become a part of his family.

* * *

She stood before him, a wraith fading in and out of sight with the passing of the light from the Tower. He saw her blink, but she didn't move, not until he spoke to break her trance.

"Christine, are you truly here or is this another dream?"

With his words, the ice between them cracked, and Christine surged forward. A moment later, Erik found Christine in his arms, embracing him strongly, her thin body shaking with a strange mix of tears and laughter. Erik pulled back to cup her face. She leaned forward and kissed him, shattering all illusion. Her taste was warm and rich, pure Christine, pure joy and comfort.

A great swell of happiness rose up within Erik's chest, bubbling up inside of him, lifting his heart and forcing a smile to cross his face. She was here, she was _home!_

Christine held on to him, and Erik couldn't let go of her. The anxieties from the past few weeks drifted away, a fog from his mind. They were powerless for now, unable to speak or release each other; somehow, Erik had allowed himself to forget the feel of her in his arms in their time apart, the scent of her hair, the heat of her against his bare skin.

Distantly, he reminded himself to cover his chest before Christine was able to see his scars, but he ignored that nagging voice.

_She is here with me, my love, she alone has the right to see me..._

Somehow, they had made it to the bed. Erik found himself laying back, while Christine curled against him, still wearing her clothes and shoes. Neither of them noticed.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this." She murmured. "It was terribly rude of me."

He raised his brows, smiling. "I forgive you. Christine, you should have told me you were coming, I would have picked you up from the airport. You've caught me completely off guard. Not that I'm complaining." He laughed, and felt Christine stretch her body against him.

She planted a quick kiss on his chest. "Yes, I could have warned you, but where's the fun in that?" She started laughing a little, giggling from exhaustion and mad happiness. "You should have seen your face, you turned white as a sheet, Erik, I'd never known you were such a big chicken!"

Erik paused in stroking her back, and moved to hold her a little closer. "You saw my face?"

She sighed lightly. "Yes, Erik. When the Tower light came into your room, I saw your face, everything. It doesn't bother me, how could it? If not for your scars, you would be a different man, and I wouldn't love you then."

Her simple words renderred Erik silent for a time. Then, "You make me very happy, Christine. I'll make things work this time, I promise you. The two loves of my life, how could I ask for more?"

Christine laughed a little, feeling more tired then than she had all night. "Erik, it was a long flight. Can we talk in the morning please?"

Understanding, Erik only continued to stroke her back. Eventually, he felt her body relax against his, and Christine was asleep.

* * *

When Erik woke the next morning, Christine was no longer in his bed. He blinked for a moment, dazedly wondering if a dream had summoned her into his arms the night before. It wouldn't be the first time. The man cleared his throat and swung his legs down to the floor, blinking the sleep from his eyes. As his mind cleared, Erik knew that it hadn't been a dream, but Christine was gone all the same. He only had a moment to recognize her jacket on his desk chair when he heard movement downstairs.

That strong swell of happiness jumped in his chest, and Erik forced himself to take a moment to calm down; he couldn't allow himself to tear down the stairs and smother the girl with kisses, no matter how much he wanted to. There was still something to be said for protecting one's own dignity, after all.

Erik took a robe and hesitated only a moment before leaving his room, unmasked.

_Christine said she wasn't bothered by my scars- I have to trust her!_

He noticed a few cases of luggage in the entryway, one of which had been opened. Erik frowned slightly, wondering where the girl had gone. "Christine?"

She appeared a moment later, melting into the room as if by osmosis, at his side, without a sound. "Good morning, Erik."

Christine tried not to laugh as she saw him jump, she did love to surprise the man. "Oh, Christine, good morning!"

If Christine didn't know better, she might have thought that Erik was nervous to have her in his home. What she didn't know what that Erik was simply so happy that he didn't know what to do with himself; here she was, the woman he loved, dropped back into his life without a moment's notice!

Erik seemed to gain control of himself, and he reached for her hands. "Christine, thank you for giving me another chance. I know I can make you happy."

She stood on her toes and gave him a deep, charged kiss. "Erik, you already have."

* * *

It had not been easy, keeping herself cold and remote on their short e-mails. Christine had forced herself to keep quiet about the arrangements she had made, and how much she wanted to see him. there had been so many things to take care of- that she had made herself ready to migrate to another country (another continent, another hemisphere!) in two months was something of a miracle.

Christine had had to negotiate with her agency, securing a position with their European counterpart and haggling the conditions of her contract. She and Belinda had worked hard to find a replacement roommate to take over her half of the rent once Christine was ready to begin her life abroad. Then there had been the many, many goodbyes to her family and friends...

Still, it had all been worth it to see the expression of pure, unburdened happiness and surprise that had come over Erik's face the night before. Even more worth it was to hear him say that he loved her, to feel his hands on her, to lay with him and talk until they'd both fallen asleep that first night.

Things had undoubtedly changed between them, but Christine embraced it all, and felt she was ready to take the first steps into a life with this strange, wonderful man. In her mind, theirs was a love long overdue. She wanted to get started now.

Just like Erik, she was determined to make things work. It was a Shaliman belief that great love did not happen twice in everyone's life; they would not lose each other again.

They stood there, kissing in his loft, happy and sure it was right. Christine reluctantly released Erik from their kiss and put her cheek against the plane of his robed chest. She could hear his heartbeat, and smiled. "I made you breakfast."

Large hands came around her waist. "You didn't have to do that. I would have cooked for you."

"It was no problem, I like to cook, and I like you, so the two go hand-in-hand." She said, giggling as his fingertips danced over her ticklish sides.

"To even the score, I'll make dinner- unless you'd prefer to go out? I wouldn't mind showing you Paris."

Christine shook her head. "Paris can wait- I'd rather we stayed in tonight. You can show me off some other night."

Erik smirked slightly, "As you wish."

Christine led Erik into the kitchen.

* * *

"I told you she'd come when she was ready."

"Yes, yes, and I am the world's greatest fool for not listening to you."

"So mature of you to admit your faults. May I have another cup?" Elita held out her cup for another of Erik's espressos, one of the many things he'd made for the ladies in his life that day.

Erik nodded and took her cup, moving further into the kitchen. Elita idly watched as he set the machine to brew another of the tiny cups, then glanced over to the living room, where Christine was playing with Nicole and David on the floor. She felt that she might have been intruding on Erik's reunion with his girl, but it was his day to take care of their daughter. Happily, both he and Christine had welcomed them all inside. Erik had made dinner for them all, savory spiced chicken, one of his most prized recipes from his time in Shalimar.

Her sharp eyes watched Christine as she set out a few toys for their toddler, and was pleased to see that both Christine and David seemed to be enjoying themselves. Erik set the cup before her. "They get along well, don't you think?"

Beside him, she nodded. "Yes, I think you and Christine will be very happy- then again it's only the first day!"

Erik gave Elita his best mock-glare. "I'll see to it that Christine is always happy; I won't lose her again, Elita. I'll give her the best of me."

She paused. "I believe you. After seeing you so broken over things the first time around, I can only hope that'll be the last time. You deserve to be happy, Erik."

Erik watched as Elita sat down on the floor, opposite Christine, with Nicole between them.

His beautiful girls.

His wonderful new life.

_Finally, I am happy, and we will be happy from now on._


	45. Our Family Portrait

It had been a touch over a month before Erik had initiated a night of love with Christine. Not that he hadn't been tempted to do so well before then, but he'd thought to give Christine time to adjust to her new situation. He understood, all too well, what she had given up just to be with him.

Her family, her friends, her country.

Everything she'd ever known was thousands of miles away, and the Old World was entirely new to her. If the shift in location was not difficult enough, Christine had to adjust to the fact that being a part of Erik's life meant being a secondary parent to Nicole.

It had been a whirlwind of change, and Erik had shied away from adding to that pressure with his natural urges. Still, weeks of sleeping beside Christine but not with her had taken their toll. He wanted her, but more than that Erik wanted to show her what she meant to him. Words had a fickle way of failing him when it came to expressing deeper emotions; he was left with the physical realm, and could only hope it would be enough.

He had taken Christine to dinner and then, at her suggestion, a walk along the river near his loft. She was wearing a basic black dress, remarkable only for its open back. She'd told him the name of some high-end designer that made the dress, but what did Erik care about that when all he could think of was getting her out of it?

It had been a clear night, calm, as tranquil as a night can be in a city of the world.

Erik had taken her hands into his, kissed them. "You've made me so happy, coming back here to Paris. I know it must have been difficult for you to leave so much of yourself behind."

She'd stood on her toes then, pressing her lips against his. She tasted sweet, she tasted warm. Her bright eyes bore into his once their kiss was broken. Erik was not surprised to find his arms around her, drawing her against his body. She fit with him perfectly, his once-missing half. "I left a lot behind me, but I'm happier here than I ever was while I was in New York. This wasn't a sacrifice to be with you. I'm here because I choose to be."

Erik was the one to kiss her then, releasing the restraints he'd placed on himself since she'd arrived. His sensual presence came over her, greeting her desire and drawing on her arousal. "Christine." He breathed raggedly against her ear, biting lightly at her throat, smoothing urgent hands over the exposed burning skin at her back. "Come with me tonight."

She went with him, through the streets to the lobby, up the elevator, then through his loft, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

There was no time wasted, every moment had been savored.

Erik kissed her gently as he eased the straps of her dress lower, lower, until her breasts were exposed to his eyes and hands. The dress puddled at her bare feet and she stood before him, a Venus revealed in the swinging light of the Tower. He took her hands, kissed them, bringing her closer to him. Stumbling back slightly, Erik sat on the edge of his bed with Christine straddling his lap, her toes nearly touching the floor on either side of his legs.

It had been a silent torture for them both, to have been so close and so distant in the same moment. Their reunion was so fragile that they had both been terrified to see it shatter again from the force of their shared passion. His hands grazed her open thighs, though he did not reach for her center- he was more than eager to have her again, for his memories were strong, but Erik knew the importance of patience better than most men.

Christine's head leaned back as his lips and teeth traced her neck, she shivered delicately when his hands lifted to her breasts. Her own hands reached toward him, tugging his shirt free of the waist of his trousers, her fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons.

The voice of Erik's insecurity was silent. _I have to do this, I know she will accept me as I am. She already has. I trust her. I love you, Christine._

Without breaking their contact, Erik rolled her beneath him onto the bed. Christine couldn't help herself, and she giggled, laughing not at him but at the both of them. What a story theirs was! It had taken them so many years, so much anguish simply to have this night. The thought was hysterical to Christine. She felt mad with happiness, and the crazed joy she felt swept over Erik when she found his lips with her own.

Seeming to forget everything, they laughed, holding each other.

Soon though, the laughter ended, and Christine lifted the mask from Erik's face. With great care, she set it aside and turned back to him. He allowed her to trace his scars, silently, with her fingertips. Erik held still, knowing that it was her right to examine him as thoroughly as would please her. In a way that he'd never known, he wanted to be seen, to be touched and analyzed. He'd never wanted to be seen before, but then, his future had never been so dependent on a woman.

Fingertips smoothed over the scars on his face. Erik looked down at her to find that Christine's express had changed, from giddy to serious. "Show me."

The plea was gentle, but Erik knew there was no way he could deny her now. Not now that she had changed so much in her life to be with him. Taking a deep breath, Erik moved back from her, until he was kneeling on the edge of the bed. He glanced down at the hands he'd lifted to the line of buttons down his shirt. They were scarred and differing in texture...but Christine welcomed it when he touched her. His face was nearly lost in the fire, but Christine had kissed him without hesitation.

He'd paused only for a moment to glance at her. Christine's face was eager, encouraging him. A thrill ran through his body, and Erik's fingers moved quickly to strip himself down before her eyes. His shirt was dropped to the floor, followed by his trousers. He watched as her eyes traveled over every shiny patch of grafted skin, every discolored, misshapen scar on his chest, upper arms and shoulders. He tried to remain calm under her scrutiny. It was difficult for him. No one had seen him like this, completely exposed, since he'd been released from the recovery hospital several months after the explosion had first occurred.

Christine rose off the bed and put her hands to his chest, allowing her hands the freedom to travel its expanse, to feel the soft ridges of scar tissue and the tense muscles just beneath the surface. It was still strange to him, having her so absorbed with what he'd hidden for so long. "Can you live with this?" He asked. The question was out before he had been able to stop himself.

At first he was afraid that Christine would become angry with him- the last thing he wanted, especially as her searching hands were moving lower and lower...

Christine looked up, into his eyes. "I can't live without you, Erik. I wouldn't have you any other way."

Her lips found his, and Erik felt his heart swell with a painful form of happiness that he knew he would have to become accustomed to, since he'd felt it every day since she had come back into his life. He twined his arms around her waist, suddenly feeling playful and eager once more. She could feel his lips smile against her own. "Then how will you have me, Christine?"

She pulled back and tried not to laugh at what he'd said. This was the Erik she remembered from that morning after they'd first become lovers in Paris. Playful, teasing and most of all, he was confident in her acceptance of him. She smiled and raised an eyebrow at him. Christine reached for him, and quickly yanked Erik down onto the bed. Climbing atop him, Christine flashed the man a triumphant grin.

It was a look that Erik grew accustomed to in their following years together.

* * *

"Tell me again."

"Why? I've told you already."

"Tell me _again."_

Smiling, Erik leaned down to plant a kiss on the crown of his daughter's head. Nicole Adelle DeRoux had grown to be an impatient, manipulative, demanding little minx, all qualities that her mother was quick to assert came from Erik's side of the family. The girl's talent, intelligence, determination, beauty and caring heart all came from Elita, naturally.

He reached over and ruffled her hair, trying not to laugh as she frowned and tried to smooth the damage he'd done to her chocolate brown curls. "Tell me, please, about how it was the first time."

Erik nodded at the insistent eight year old, and thought back to the day when she was born. "Well, Elita had put David and I out of the room- she didn't want us to see her giving birth."

"Why?"

The honesty that the French had with their children was sometimes bizarre to Christine; when she'd been a child there were certain things that her father had never made mention of, though Elita and Erik would make such comments right in front of the family children. It was different, but also strangely freeing.

To Erik's amusement, Christine would often try to censor him, but she was not here to do so now.

"Your mother is very strong, but having a baby for the first time can be a scary thing for a woman. Really, I think she wanted you all to herself, she just didn't want to share with David or me. I can understand- you were her first joy in the world, Nici. She named you after her mother, who died before you were born."

"And your mother."

"Yes, that is where your first and middle names came from. Nicole, Adelle. And, because you are my daughter, you have my last name, DeRoux." Erik watched as the girl fingered the hem of her new skirt. He'd bought it for her, hoping she'd like it for her recent birthday. The girl was thinking over his words.

"I like our big family."

He nodded. "I do too. And it's going to be bigger. Your brothers first, and today, your little sister."

"I don't want her to have any of my names."

_Ah, jealousy. Another trait she's inherited from her father. What am I going to do with this girl?_

He took her hand and stroked the top of it. She was wearing the little sapphire ring he'd given to her on the day they'd learned she would be a big sister again. Her voice had been calm, but anxiety showed in the sweat of her palms. "She won't have your first or middle name, love, but she will have the last name DeRoux. You can share that, can't you?"

"Yes."

"Nicole, you know that just because there will be a new baby in the house doesn't mean that Christine or I will love you any less. A baby will only bring more love into the family. You'll always be our little girl, but now you'll also be a big sister." Erik said, wondering if his explanation made any sense to her.

"It was different with Charles and James." She reminded him, sulkily.

"Why was it different?"

"The twins are David's and she'll be yours." Nicole said. Though young, the girl was far above average intellect, but her emotions were under strain at the moment, not her mind. She understood her family situation easily enough, having two parents of either gender, finding nothing wrong with it as she had never known anything else.

She loved all four of her parents, but from the moment they'd laid eyes on each other, Nicole had been what she knew the Americans called a "Daddy's girl." She loved her mother, but when her half-brothers had been born Nicole had not felt jealousy against them, only excitement and blind curiosity while Elita had been pregnant two years before. The twins were boys, after all, David's sons.

Now, though, an unseen rival had grown within Christine's womb. Another daughter to Erik, a man Nicole had no want to share with anyone, be it Christine, his work or this tiny new interloper.

Erik leaned down and hugged Nicole to him. "Nicole, I understand. But this is your sister-"

"_Half_-sister!"

"You _sister_. I know it will be hard for you to adjust, but this new baby isn't going anywhere. When we take her home from the hospital, she will be a part of our family, just like you were when Elita first brought you home to me. Christine and I will need you to be strong, and brave for your sister. I know she'll love you, she'll want to be just like you when she gets older, Nici."

The girl crossed her arms, still sulking. "I don't want her."

"It's too late, Nici. Your sister will be born today, and soon she'll be home with us. You'll love her when you see her."

"No I won't."

"You said that when Charles and James were born and you love them now." Erik reminded her.

"They're boys. I don't like other girls."

It was a fairly well-known cultural trait that French women were so competitive with other women that their aggression could border on silent hostility. He hadn't seen much of the trait in Elita, and Christine was an American- to see it in his daughter, against her own newborn sister was jarring.

"Nicole." He said firmly, becoming fed up with her stubbornness. "I know you don't like the idea of a sister, but she is not just an idea anymore. She is born today, alive, and a part of our family now. In time you will grow to love her, I know you will, but for now you will learn to be nice to her. I don't want to hear any mean comments or see any frowning faces. A birth is a thing to celebrate. Do you understand?"

It was rare that Erik had a need to become stern with her, but when he did, Nicole knew to obey. She sighed lightly and crossed her arms. "Yes."

Together, they waited for another hour before a doctor came forward to let them know that the birth had gone well, that mother and baby were fine, and free to visit.

The bulging swell of happiness he'd tried to suppress throughout the morning rose up to his chest, and Erik had to force himself to walk, rather than run to Christine and their newborn daughter. Quickly, Erik and Nicole reached the hospital room that housed his wife and baby. He glanced to Nicole. "Remember what I told you."

She nodded and followed him inside.

Christine was there, sitting up in the bed. Her face was flushed but she had been washed free of sweat; to Erik she looked luminous. Her smile lit the room. "Hey guys," she called, her voice high and friendly. She felt exhilarated, triumphant and filled with a crazed new energy.

Erik moved to her bedside. "Christine, how do you feel?"

"Exhausted. Happy. Go, Erik, she's right over there. The nurse said she had to rest, but they let me hold her already. Look at her cute little hat!"

Christine started giggling a little, and Erik couldn't help but to raise a brow at her. He wondered if maybe the drugs meant to dull the pain of giving birth hadn't reached her brain- he didn't remember Elita being so giddy when Nicole had been born. And speaking of Nicole...

Erik turned to find Nicole already looking down into the medical crib on the other side of Christine's bed. He leaned down to kiss Christine. "My beautiful girls."

She laughed then, and playfully swatted his arm. "Go see her, daddy."

He walked over to the roller crib and looked down at the new arrival. Like all newborns, this baby had red skin and a frowning face. She was wrapped in a light pink blanket, with a bright pink cap tucked over her head. She looked just as Nicole had when she'd been born, but then all newborns look alike. From the other side of the crib, Nicole looked up at him. "She's small."

Erik nodded. "Yes, this is the smallest she'll ever be. After this she'll only get bigger."

"Her face looks mean."

The man shrugged, and found he couldn't disagree. "Newborns can't smile yet. It takes time for them to learn. You looked just like her when you were born."

"Why won't she open her eyes?"

"She might be sleeping, or waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light."

"What color will her eyes be?"

"I don't know, maybe they'll be light like Christine's. Did you know that babies' eyes can change color?"

"I heard that in school. What about her name?"

He shrugged again, happy to simply watch the newborn sleep. "We still haven't decided, but we do have to name her before we leave the hospital. Do you want to help us?"

At once, Nicole's eyes lit up. "I can name her?"

"You can help, so long as it's not something crazy. Christine and I will choose her first name, but I'll leave her middle name to you. Pick something pretty, your little sister deserves a middle name as special as yours."

Nicole was silent then as she watched the baby.

* * *

"I heard that your little sister is coming home today."

Nicole looked up at her mother, and handed her the bowl of strawberries that she'd sliced in half. They were making a pie, at Nicole's insistence, to welcome home the latest addition to their family. Elita took the bowl and watched as Nicole began to sprinkle cinnamon and powdered sugar into the dough that would become the pie crust. She smiled, happy to see that her daughter had such a talent in baking. This was a trait she'd inherited from her mother, of course.

Elita treasured this time they had together, just the two of them, when David would take the boys out to the park or river to play with the toy boats they'd received on their last birthdays. Nicole was her only daughter, her first child, and she was growing up so quickly. Why, just the other day she'd been informed by Nicole's teacher that she had kissed a boy! Elita hadn't mentioned this news to Erik just yet since he was so busy with the new baby, but she knew that when he found out, Nicole's father would not be pleased.

While it was an exciting thing to Elita to learn that Nicole liked a boy, she imagined that Erik would be horrified. In France it was natural for children to experiment with kissing, but Erik had already declared that if he so much as heard a rumor that a boy had kissed Nicole, he'd be the first to send her to a convent. Elita rolled her eyes as she remembered his words. The man could be impossible sometimes, and she wondered what he stance would be once he learned that it had been Nicole to kiss the boy, and not the other way around.

The girl nodded. "They picked a name. She'll be Marie, but I get to pick her middle name."

"Christine told me that. You have to have the name chosen by today, did you already pick?"

Again, Nicole nodded. "Yes, but I want to wait until we get there."

Elita smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead. "All right, well then let's get this finished. We can let it bake and then when it's cool we can go, how does that sound?"

"Good." Nicole swallowed her nerves before sharing her secret. "I kissed Michael at school."

The mother laughed at her daughter's blunt statement. Elita led Nicole to the living room as their baking pie filled the house with the sweet scent of strawberries and cinnamon. "Yes, your teacher already told me. Thank you for telling me, Nicole, I'm your mother. We can talk about everything. You know that. Also, thank you for telling me before telling your father." She said with a wink and a quick grin.

"I'll tell him today-"

"No!" Elita laughed, "No, Nicole, I think he'll be under enough stress just bringing the new baby home today. Maybe you should hold off on telling him for a little while, just until things are settled."

Nicole nodded, seeing the sense in being patient.

* * *

"Well, Nicole, have you thought of a middle name for Marie?"

It was only an hour later, back in the hospital where she'd been one week before. She stood there in the center of Christine's recovery room, her eyes on the bundled baby in her step-mother's arms. Nicole knew better than to say so, but she thought the baby looked like a tiny, prune-faced old man. Surely her sister would become prettier in time? She didn't know why, but she thought Christine looked very nice, maybe because she looked so happy. Erik was standing beside Christine, who was in a wheelchair. Nicole wondered if having the baby had hurt Christine's legs.

"I decided. Anne." She said simply.

"Anne? Marie Anne DeRoux. That's beautiful, don't you think?" Erik asked Christine.

She nodded. "I think it's perfect."

Erik smiled. "All right, I'll tell the nurse, and then we can make our way home." He slipped out of the room, leaving all his women together.

Christine glanced down at her new baby. The red, wrinkled little face, the frowning expression, the strange blue-gray eyes. Her daughter, Marie Anne. She smiled at Elita, and then turned her attention to Nicole. "I want to thank you for being a part of Marie's life like this. I know that you share something special with Erik I mean, with your father. You've been so good about this, Nicole, I know that you'll be a great big sister to her."

Nicole shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with this open gratitude. "Well, I just wanted her to have a pretty name..."

Erik reentered the room. "All right, my lovely ladies, we are free to go."

Together the family left the hospital to begin a new chapter in their lives.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ah, a happy ending! Maybe a little too sweet for my typical taste, but I couldn't help myself. I don't usually write about children or do epilogues, but I couldn't end the story on 44, that's just a funny number to end on, so I decided to wrap up the whole thing with a glimpse into their future. I hope you liked it!**


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Romance