I want everyone to know that I am NOT going to let Erik doubt his sexual preference! That was never my intention. He might get a little confused for a few minutes, but all misunderstandings will be put to rest in that very same chapter, so we will not leave Erik in mental turmoil any longer than needs be. So do not worry, do not fret and just enjoy the ride.

With that said…carry on!

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Chapter 10

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It had been over a week since the attack on the Lavorett and the offloading of the commandeered goods, and the crew had worked hard to repair the damage sustained during the battle. Regardless of how the crew seemed to scoff at the word of the first mate, Amir remained adamant and steadfast that he had indeed seen a mermaid back on Half Moon Cay, and nothing anyone said would convince him otherwise. Everything, it appeared, had returned to normal, everything that is except Erik.

As Christine made her way out on deck that morning, she could tell immediately that something was amiss when she spotted Erik at the helm, just staring out over the horizon. While she prided herself on her ability to be up and out before him, today Christine had rose to find that Erik was no longer in the cabin. Upon further inspection it even appeared as if he had not slept in his bed at all. She could think of nothing that had happened in the last few days that would illicit his sudden dark mood. The sale of the goods had gone well, if you didn't count the mishap with the vodka, and the repairs were almost complete. Even Amir's mermaid talk had died down somewhat. All seemed to be going well, leaving Christine at a loss as to what had Erik in such a dark mood. The crew noticed his disposition as well, but said nothing, going about their business while obviously avoiding any kind of conversation with him. It was very disconcerting, and Christine wanted to know the reason behind it.

The hand bilge pumps in the forward hold were acting up again and Amir had been working hard all day to get them repaired. When he stopped to take a break, Christine found him at the water barrel.

"Is something wrong with the Captain?" she asked, glancing back up at Erik who had not seemed to move a muscle.

Amir took a long drink from the barrel and re-hung the dipper with a sigh.

"No one is sure why, but every year around this time he just gets…quiet. Everyone has their theories, but no one is about to ask him about it," he said, almost in a hushed tone, as if he worried Erik could hear him.

"What about you? I am sure he would tell you if you asked him." Amir was his first mate after all and the closest thing he had to a best friend that she could tell.

"Whoa, hold on there," Amir said, holding up his hands. "If he wanted me to know, he would have told me, and I am not about to get my throat slit by prying. The captain can be a very a private man and I respect that. Whatever demons he is battling he can handle in his own way, and in his own time. If he needs my help, he will ask. Until then, we just let him have his space and he always seems to work through it in a couple of days." Amir then gave Chris a little smile. "Come give me a hand with the bilge pumps, there is nothing you can do and I would advise you not to try."

The rest of the day was spent below decks and Christine did not see Erik again until later that night. He had gone in his cabin earlier and when Amir poked his head in to ask him if wanted dinner brought in, Erik actually threw a glass at the door and yelled at him to get out. Amir returned to the group and picked up his plate as if nothing had happened. Noticing Chris' worried expression, he reassured the kid.

"Oh this has happened before. He will hold up in there till evening, drinking himself into a stupor until he passes out, then I will go in and put him to bed. Like I said, in a few days, a week tops, this will all be forgotten." Amir just shrugged it off and didn't seem to be taking any of this personally, but it was very upsetting for Christine.

The rest of the evening she couldn't help but glance back at Erik's cabin, the flickering candle light and shadow moving inside telling her that he was still awake. One by one the crew left off for bed or their turn on watch, leaving only Amir and Christine. Glancing over at the Captain's quarters, Amir stood up and stretched, giving a soft groan as his back cracked into place.

"I suppose I better get in there and see if he is ready to be tucked in," Amir said with a small laugh, but it was easy to see that he found little humor in the task. Looking down at the kid beside him he gave a sigh. "Would you like to give me a hand?"

Christine was on her feet in a flash signaling her answer. As the two approached the cabin they could hear nothing stirring within, giving Amir the courage to peek inside. Just as he had predicted, Erik was at his desk, his head lying face down beside a half empty bottle of rum.

"Just as I thought, looks like sleeping beauty has had enough for today," he chuckled, the irony of his description not lost on him.

"I think this is ridiculous. If you found out what is bothering him and talk to him about it he might not need to find solace from a bottle. Why don't you just ask him?" Christine truly hated to see him in this condition, especially if there was anything that could be done to prevent it.

"We don't ask because we are men, not gossiping washer women. It is his past and sometimes the past is best left buried. Now, let's just move him to the bed and get some sleep ourselves," Amir insisted.

However, before the two could step inside, Miller's voice was heard calling from behind.

"Amir, the aft bilge pump just went out again and I am up to my knees in seawater!"

Amir gave an exasperated sigh and turned to Christine.

"Looks like you will have to take care of the captain by yourself. If I don't get that bilge working, we will all be loading the life boats before morning," he said as he walked towards the hold, only half joking about the life boats. "Remember that you have second watch tonight, so don't take too long in there."

Christine watched him scurry down the ladder and disappear into the hold before she turned her attention back to Erik. She quietly went inside, stepping over the broken shards of the glass that he had thrown at the door earlier. She was not quite sure how she was supposed to get him from the desk to his bed all by herself and she was not sure that waking him was an option either. She had just reached out to remove the half empty glass from his hand, when he suddenly sat up, causing her to jump back with a yelp of fright.

"I was not finished with that," he muttered, looking around with bleary eyes until his focus settled on her standing in front of him.

"Well, it sure looked to me like you had enough for one evening," she answered, walking around to stand beside him now. "And unless you plan on sleeping here for the night I would suggest you quit now and head to bed."

"Did Amir send you in to make sure I was still alive?" he asked, looking more at the glass in his hand than at Chris.

"We were pretty sure you were not dead, but yes, he sent me in to put you to bed." When he was quiet for a moment she decided to go for broke. "Everyone can tell something is bothering you, but no one is willing to ask what it is. Now I understand your need for privacy…" Boy did she understand needing privacy, "but if talking about it will help, I am willing to listen. My father says that sometimes it is the mind that needs the medicine, not the body, and that talking things out can do a world of good." She stood there, holding her breath, waiting for him to say something…anything. After another minute of silence she gave up with a sigh and headed for the door. She had just put her hand on the knob when she heard him speak.

"September 18th," he said, as if that simple date was the most important day in the world.

"What?" Christine asked turning back around.

"Today is September 18th." He leaned forward on his desk once more, resting on his elbows as he held the glass in front of him with both hands, never taking his eyes off of it. "The calendar tells me so, but I would have known anyway. The air seems different and the sky just looks darker on September 18th each year."

Christine could now see that this date held some very personal meaning to him and maybe if she could keep him talking, and conscious, it would help him somehow.

"Why is today so different from any other day. What happened?" She came over and stood beside him, leaning against the desk. He sat back in his chair and looked at her as if he was staring right through her, seeing something that was long ago past.

"That was the day she died," was all he said.

"She? Who was she?" Fear gripped Christine's heart. Had Erik been married before? Was he still mourning a lost love in his past, one that she could never compete with?

"Her name was Abigail Wright, and she was…my mother." Erik stopped there and Christine held her breath, the news having hit her like a ton of bricks. She silently prayed that he would continue, and in a moment her prayers were answered. "I had been down at the docks that morning, picking up a little money by helping unload a ship. Most of the dock men did not care about my mask, they only cared if I had a strong back and was willing to do as I was told. I stopped and bought a loaf of bread and a brick of cheese on the way home, and that is when I noticed the air and the sky. Not that I saw it as strange, just different…and I noticed it. Ever notice something but at the time you had no idea of the significance it would have on your life?" Christine knew he did not expect her to answer so she kept quiet and just listened. "I called out to her when I came through the door, telling her I had brought some food, but she didn't answer. When I got to her room I could see that she was slipping away. She had been sick for some time but that day…the day the air and the sky turned different, that was the day she just gave up." Suddenly he looked right at her and she knew for certain that he was fully aware of her presence. "She died before the sun set on September 18th, nineteen years ago today."

"Oh captain…." was all Christine could get out over the lump in her throat. Nineteen years ago he would have been around fourteen or fifteen, just a boy. Her heart broke thinking of him all alone watching his mother fade away like that. Forced to shoulder the burdens of life like a man, while still only a child himself. Her arms ached to hold him and comfort him until his hurt went away, but that was out of the question. So all she could do was be there for him now, and listen. "I am so sorry, is there anything I can do?"

He slid his glass over to her and grabbed the bottle for himself.

"You can drink with me to her memory," he said, lifting the bottle up in front of him. "Drink to the kindest woman in the world who never deserved the life she was handed. To Abigail Wright," he said reverently, then took a long drink.

Christine picked up the glass he had offered her and without any hesitation drank the vile liquid down. She had hoped to do it smoothly but the immediate burning sensation she had in her throat left her coughing and gasping for breath. This actually caused Erik to chuckle slightly as he leaned forward and slapped her on the back a few times.

"You still have some growing up to do before you can hold your liquor," he said as he reached to refill the glass.

Christine held up her hand as she pulled the glass away, trying to tell him she had more than enough. He shrugged and took another drink from the bottle himself, apparently not offended by her refusal for more. When her throat was no longer on fire she took a chance and probed deeper, wanting to know all there was about this man's history.

"What did you do after that? Is that when you went to sea?"

"No…not quite yet. First I made sure she had a proper burial, I sold everything we owned and saw to it that she was laid to rest in the town cemetery with a real stone marker. She deserved so much better in life, I couldn't stand to see her having any less in death. " He then looked directly at her, his expression causing her veins to turn to ice. "Then I went to murder the man responsible for killing my mother. The lying bastard who promised her the world and left her to die in the gutter…my father!"

Christine felt her face turn as white as the mask Erik wore. She had never heard him speak words with such venom, but at the mere mention of his father, she could tell there was bad blood between them.

"You went to kill your own father?" She could hardly get the words out of her mouth, they were so appalling.

"I assure you he deserved it for what he had done. Now I don't claim to be a saint and I have had my share of women, but every one of them knew going into it what I was offering and I made no promises I wasn't willing to keep. But him… he promised my mother the world, heaped lies upon lies until she thought he was the moon and the stars all rolled into one. Then what did he do? He threw her away like yesterday's garbage!"

Erik's fist came down on his desk with a thundering blow as he said this, causing Christine to visibly jump. She didn't know what to say, so she just sat there as he continued.

"That man had bewitched her until in her eyes he could do no wrong, never seeing the promises he had made were nothing but lies. Yet I knew. I could see the truth even if she never did. I knew he had abandoned her…because of me. Because he could not stand the knowledge that his own bastard son was a deformed freak of nature!"

At his words Christine's hand flew to her lips to stifle her gasp. So it was true…the mask did hide some sort of deformity. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would form. What could she say? Thankfully she did not have to, for Erik continued on as if she were not even there.

"My mother always believed he would come for us, that his love was unconditional. She would tell me that one day my father would return and take us away, out of the dirty streets and into a bright new life. Well it never happened and after fifteen years she couldn't wait any longer. I know it was a broken heart that finally killed her…and I wanted vengeance. So the day after her funeral, I set out to find the man I hated with all my being."

"You didn't know who he was or where he lived?" she asked, finding her voice.

"Not exactly, but I knew enough. My mother was a wise woman, and perhaps she knew that if she gave me my father's sir name I would hunt him down. I had gone by the name of Erik Wright since I was old enough to speak, but I knew I had been born with a second name…his name, but I never learned it till after her death. I did know his first name though, and I had this…" he reached into his pocket and brought out a gold watch. He stared at it for a moment and then tossed it to her, nodding for her to open it up and look inside.

Hardly daring to take her eyes off of him, Christine slowly opened the watch. In the lid of the timepiece there was a small painting of two faces staring back at her. The paint had chipped away at the sides, but the image was still well intact. Erik's features were obvious in both of them, leaving no doubt that these were his parents. He had his mother's hair and coloring but it was the eyes of his father that stared back at her now from behind his mask.

"Did you find him?" She was almost afraid to know the answer.

"Yes, I found him…a rich English man living in a house bigger than the entire street I had grown up on. It wasn't like he couldn't afford to take care of her. She had simply been another conquest to him, one to be discarded when we did not fit into his perfect little life. Used and then forgotten. However I would never forget, and I planned to make sure he remembered her and knew exactly who I was and why I was there to kill him." He trailed off once more, lost in thought as he stared at the bottle in his hand.

It was then that Christine knew for certain that he had not carried out his criminal plan. Even as a vengeful youth, she was certain that Erik had principles, and there was no way he could have killed a man in cold blood.

"But you didn't do it, did you? You couldn't."

"No…I let him live." He looked up at Christine with regret in his eyes. She hoped it was regret over the situation, and not the fact that something had stayed his hand. "I found his house and hid in the bushes near his front door with a knife in my hand, having every intention of using it. I sat there all day waiting for my chance, but when he at last came out to leave, he wasn't alone. He had two kids with him…. his children, a real family. That day I learned that I had a half brother and sister I had never known about, and I was damn certain they had never heard of me, their monster brother. They were both young, the girl was just a babe in his arms and the boy no more than four or five. Both were…perfect. They were laughing and talking about the outing they were going on, never suspecting the danger that waited there in the bushes…but I couldn't do it. If I had killed him like I planned, those two kids would grow up without a father just like I had. I still hated him and wished him dead, but those kids had done nothing to me and they were the ones who would have suffered. At that moment I realized that taking his life would never bring my mother back, restore my face or make up for all he had done. The best thing I could do was to honor her memory and never forget her like he apparently had. Still, each year when the air and the sky turn just a little different, I remember how I failed her. "

"I don't think you failed her at all, captain," Christine assured him quietly. "I realize I have not known you very long, but I see how you treat your men and how you are fair and reasonable in your dealings. Each man on this ship would lay down his life for you and that says a lot." She then smiled and gave his chair a little kick with her foot trying to lighten the mood. "You even rescued a poor kid like me and made him feel safe again, and I think that is pretty special."

"Probably one of the smarter things I have done," he told Chris with a nod of gratitude for his words. He then got up slowly, bracing his hands on the desk in front of him for stabilization. "I think I have had enough for one night and since I know I'm going to pay the price in the morning, I might as well get some sleep before the hangover sets in. At least it is not Russian vodka this time." Erik then walked up the few steps to his bed and fell forward onto it.

He didn't move for a moment and Christine imagined that he had passed out the second he hit. Getting up from the desk she started for the door, but then she heard him stir behind her. Turning she saw that he had rolled over onto his side and had propped himself up on one elbow.

"Thanks for listening. You are a good kid and I am glad you are here," he said quietly.

"I am too. Try and get some sleep and don't worry…..I know your mother would be very proud of you." She saw the corner of his mouth come up in a halfhearted grin and she hoped he truly believed it. Christine waited until he had lain back down before turning towards the door once more.

It was then that Christine realized she was still holding the watch in her hand and she turned back only to see that he was already fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb him she walked over to his desk and laid it down, but as she did she noticed some engraving on the back. Looking closer she saw the initials A.E.C. inscribed in big letters. Those must be his father's initials she surmised. She ran a few variations in her mind of what those letters could mean and suddenly her hand flew to her mouth as she realized the truth. Erik had described his father as a rich English man with two children who would now be around nineteen and twenty five. That was exactly how old Philippe and Meg were now.

And the initials A.E.C! She reopened the watch and examined the painting closer. Was this the reason that Erik had seemed familiar to her when they had first met? Erik was of the same height and build as the English gentleman, but it was the fact that they shared the same pair of piecing amber eyes that was the true give away. How could she have forgotten that? Granted, she spent most of her time with Meg and Philippe while at the Collingsworth mansion, but she had looked into Lord Andrews eyes on many occasions and they were most certainly the same as Erik's. Turning the watch over again, she stared at the middle initial, she was almost certain that the 'E' had to stand for Erik.

Christine's mind was spinning and she had to steady herself on the desk to keep from falling. She had visited with Lord Collingsworth a number of times over the past year and had come to regard him as a true gentleman, always kind and very pleasant. Yet if he truly was Erik's father and had done all the terrible things he claimed, maybe she didn't know Lord Collingsworth at all?

And to think, if she and Philippe had actually married, that would now make Erik her brother-in-law! The very idea made her head swim, but perhaps she was wrong about all this. After all, she had no proof other than some similarities in an old painting the size of her thumb, the same color eyes and a few matching dates. The Collingsworth family was hundreds of miles away and she saw no reason to ever mention her suspicions to Erik. It was his life and she had quite possibly learned more about it tonight than she wished to. She was not sure how to digest the information thrown at her, from Erik's feeling of betrayal by his hated father, or the fact that he revealed the mystery surrounding the reason for his mask. Was his face truly as hideous as he claimed? Surely he was exaggerating when he called himself a monster. Christine knew she needed time to think this all through. Maybe Amir had been right, sometimes the past is best left buried. So leaving the watch on the desk she quickly left to take her turn on night duty, blowing the candles out as she went.

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When Erik opened his eyes to see the sun's rays blazing through his window he groaned and rolled over, burying his head in his pillow. As he let his mind clear he began to think about the previous night and all that went on. He remembered drinking…a lot…and he remembered Chris talking with him, but it was all still a little fuzzy. He sat up in bed and looked down, noticing that he was still fully clothed, right down to his boots still being on. Reaching up Erik felt that his mask was still in place as well. Apparently he must have passed out pretty quickly if he had not even bothered to remove his mask to sleep. Oh well, it would save him the trouble of re-dressing, he thought, as he got up out of bed and walked over to the pitcher of water on the dresser. Pouring it in the basin he removed his mask and splashed his face with cold water, the icy liquid leaving him invigorated and alert.

Reaching up he slowly removed the cover off the mirror above his dresser and cringed at the mangled mass that stared back at him. Erik didn't often indulge in tormenting himself with his appearance, but for some reason today he felt the need to look. As he examined the reflection that could hardly be considered a face, he found it no wonder his own father had abandoned him and his mother. Who would ever wish to look at this on a daily basis…apparently not his sire, and if he was being honest, not even Erik himself. Only his mother had ever been able to gaze upon his unmasked face without flinching or looking away. Only her, and she was long gone. Would she truly be the last woman who would ever look at him with love? If there was such a woman out there, he had certainly never encountered her, and probably never would.

With a heavy sigh he wiped his face dry and reached for his white mask, thinking perhaps wearing a lighter color would brighten his mood. After changing his shirt and slipping on a black vest, Erik headed for the door. He stopped when he saw something sitting on his desk by the empty bottle of rum. He walked over and picked it up, recognizing it immediately as the only item he had kept after his mother had died. He must have taken this out last night during his drinking binge, for it usually stayed hidden away in the very back of his desk drawer. As he held the watch in his hand he began to recall some of the conversation he and Chris had shared the night before. Good lord, had he truly told the kid his whole life story?! Erik had never confided in anyone about his parents or, heaven forbid, his face! Only Amir knew a few bits and pieces, but somehow last night, his little cabin boy had got him to spill it all. Erik was not sure how he felt about that, hating the idea of being exposed in that way, as if by revealing his secrets he had become naked and uncovered, a feeling that left him very unsettled.

Yet, it suddenly dawned on him that even though he had drank enough rum last night to take down a mule, he was not suffering any ill effects, no hangover or queasiness in his stomach. Also the dark mood he had been in was gone, replaced with a sense of calm that he had not felt in a long time. Maybe talking to the kid had been good for him after all. He recalled Chris saying something about medicine for the mind, and perhaps that is exactly what the boy had administered last night by lending a hearing ear. Erik's gaze turned towards Chris' small, empty alcove, and a grateful smile slowly crossed his lips. No doubt about it. That kid was one of the best things that had ever come into his life.

When Erik made his way out on deck everything looked fresh, almost brand new in some way. It was as if a burden had been lifted off his chest, the crushing weight that had always seemed to suffocate him during this time each year was gone. His men must have noticed the shift in Erik's mood as well, and they nodded a greeting or wished him good morning, where yesterday they avoided him like the plague.

"You're awake," Erik heard Chris' voice say as he turned to look at the boy. "I was just bringing in your breakfast. I mean, if you feel up to eating after what happened last night."

At his words Erik's eyes narrowed, not pleased with the implications of that statement. Would the kid be foolish enough to wish to rehash any of the private and personal things he had told him?

"And what exactly happened last night?" He asked, really hoping that Chris had not dared gossip about such things.

"You were drunk out of your mind and passed out," Christine answered, as if it should have been obvious. "Man, you really must be hung over if you don't even remember getting that way!"

Erik gave a little grin. So the kid was smart enough to play things close to the vest. Erik breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he could count on Chris' discretion and he admired him for that.

"Oh, I remember everything I need to about last night…believe me," he said, reaching out and taking the plate of food off the tray. "However, right now I think some fresh air and sun will do me wonders. Carry on," he instructed as he headed up the steps, already picking at the food on his plate.

"Aye, sir." He heard Chris say from behind, and even without looking he knew there was a big smile on the boy's face.

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So there you have it…Erik's back-story. So, what do you think of:

Him having a mother who actually loved him?

His father being the 'bad guy' this time?

Christine's suspicions about who his father really is?

Erik's reaction to realizing he spilled his guts to Chris?