a/n The schools of music and theater put on Die Fladermus by Straus last night and, while laughing my ass off, I remembered that I needed to put some work into this. Go see that opera, by the way. It's freakin' hilarious! "I call it… Revenge of the Bat."

a/n 2 Um… I've been on this for a couple of days and all I can say is… LET ME GET A BIG "HELL YEAH" FROM THE REDNECK GIRLS LIKE ME! Yeah… don't ask. I was listening to that song again. Anyway, we shall now gear more toward Erik and Christine, however, there's a bit of R/B action at the end. If you skip it, you won't miss much—I'll understand if that doesn't float your boat. I'm just a bit… frisky right now, and I feel the need to begin the earning of the rating. And reviews are the only thing that tames it. Peace out.

a/n Thanks to Dani for telling me to fix my shit. I keep mixing up names—where would I be without her!

CHAPTER 10—DEVELOPING

In the four weeks since Aimée had been born, a great deal had happened. Over dinner, Raoul and Bellona and announced their re-engagement and their desire to be wed as soon as possible. Everyone had been happy for them, with the exception of Erik, who, unspeaking, had cut into his steak with more force than was needed.

Erik had sent several short works to a publisher in Paris, who had published them and sent him a check. Bellona had teased him about finally earning honest money, to which he had performed the traditional throwing of scrambled eggs at her.

Even Christine had found work as an actress at a small theater in town while moonlighting as the assistant to the children's choir director at the famed Beauvais cathedral. She loved both jobs and, while the acting job required very little singing, she enjoyed it nevertheless and adored working with the young choir boys, coming home with stories that made them all laugh over dinner.

It was Christine's continued in the house that was making Erik so miserable. He loved her—he was sure of that. But did she love him? She had stopped being such an introvert and was actually talking to everyone, now. True, there was a bit of almost awkward coolness between her and Bellona, but he suspected that would pass in time. It was nothing to the awkwardness that was between himself and Christine, though. They seldom spoke in private, and their conversations were cautions when they did. Was she distancing him? Or was he distancing himself from her by locking himself in his music room evening after evening?

One such evening, Christine and Raja had retired to the parlor, where Christine quietly worked on a needlepoint as Raja read a book. Down the hall, Christine could hear Erik working at a new piece. This new music was different than what she was used to from him. It was soothing—almost like a lullaby. She had a feeling that little Aimée had had quite the influence on him. She mentioned this to Raja, hardly thinking, and the other girl smiled.

"Yes, I suppose it has," she said softly. "Papa's always been a very…shall I say…rough man. But it has not only been having Aimée around that has changed him." She gave Christine a small smile before changing the subject, seeing a bit of discomfort in Christine. "Would you like some wine?"

Christine raised her eyebrows. "I thought you weren't supposed to drink. Isn't it against your religion?"

Raja laughed as she reached for the bottle left by Nadir and poured some for both of them. "Do you follow all of your commandments?" She laughed again at the sheepish look on Christine's face, handing across the glass. "Nor do I follow of my rules. Neither does Nadir."

"But you still wear your headdress most of the time. Why?"

Another small smile flitted across the girl's lips. "Do you not wear stockings most of the time?"

Christine laughed. Raja clearly had more of a sense of humor than she had given her credit for. "Do you miss Persia?"

Raja looked out of the window. "I miss my homeland—not the courts, though." She gave a visible shudder.

"Why?"

The other woman did not answer right away. She stared into her wine glass for a time before saying slowly, "My mother was one of those who dwelt with the khanum in her harem. I lived there for several years until my mother died and then Nadir came and paid to take me away. I would likely still be there if not for him. I was a bit of a show for her, I suppose."

Christine was confused. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"By what?"

"All of it, really," she said sheepishly. "I suppose I'm not wise in the ways of the world."

"Ask Nadir sometime," Raja said, placing her wine on the table. "I do not like to speak of those years." She left, taking with her an air of discomfort. Christine drank a bit more of her own wine, feeling terrible for upsetting her new friend. She finished her wine and downed two more glasses before, standing, she walked from the room and down the hall toward the music.

Placing a small knock on the door to Erik's music room and receiving permission to enter, she turned the knob and stepped inside. He appeared a bit surprised to see her, and even more surprised that she seated herself on the settee next to the piano. It was quiet for a moment before he said, "Is there something you wanted?"

"I think," Christine said quietly, "I may have accidentally upset Raja."

A small frown creased Erik's brow. "How did you manage that?"

"I asked her if she missed Persia and she said something about the courts and her mother. I didn't understand and she said it wasn't something she liked to talk about."

Erik nodded slightly, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I see. And you wish me to explain it to you?"

"Yes, but only if you don't mind," she said quickly. "I don't want to bother you."

Erik placed the pencil he was holding on the top of some already finished music and sighed heavily. "Her problems in Persia stemmed somewhat from me. I was the court magician and entertainment for several years there. She…" He paused, trying to think of a way to explain. "Her mother was one of my rewards for my services. When I left Persia to help Collette support Meg, her mother was left alone and I was unaware that she would soon give birth. Nadir wrote me several years later to tell me of her, and also of Bellona. I was a bit more than upset to hear that Bellona was dealing with an abusive parent, but it hurt me to find that Raja's mother had passed away some time back. The consumption, I believe he said. In any case, Raja was being raised in the harem with the khanum—"

"Harem?"

Erik stared for her at a moment before he seemed to realize that she had no idea what a harem was. He heaved a sigh. "You know of brothels, I assume?'

Christine made a face. "She was raised in a house of prostitution?"

"To some extent," he said. "The women of the harem belong to the shah, and only he and those closest to him may…visit the women there."

"That's terrible," Christine said quietly. "They were raising her to…give herself to men?"

"Partially." Erik shifted uncomfortably. Christine was the absolute last person he wanted to be talking to about his somewhat tainted past, and he was surprised he was at all. Perhaps it was the brandy he had drunk earlier. "But they knew she was mine. They wanted her to be some… I suppose they wanted her to be something like me, only female and attractive."

Christine was shocked. Raja was so quiet—no trace of a past where she had been expected to give up something she could never get back for men was ever seen. "Why didn't she end up that way?"

Erik smiled slightly. "I sent Nadir a positively obscene amount of money to secure her release. She never left Persia until she was fifteen when Bell was old enough to take care of her."

"How old is she?"

"She's only a year or so older than you. She has been through so much, but she never talks of any of it, not even to Nadir—God knows she tells him everything."

Christine smiled. "You sound jealous."

"I am not."

"You are!" She laughed, feeling the wine from before sinking into her system. "You're jealous of Nadir!"

Erik seized his pencil and began to scribble for a moment before he paused, sniffing the air. "Have you been drinking?"

Christine's eyes widened. "Can you tell?"

"I can tell two things by looking at your face right now. You've been drinking and it's something you never do." He shook his head and rose. "Come on. I'll take you to your room and fetch the maid to ready you for bed."

Christine rose from her seat, stumbling a bit. Erik caught hold of her arms to support her. Looking up, she smiled at him. He stared back at her for a moment before hoisting her into his arms and carrying her down the hall and up the stairs to what was now her room. He sat her down on the bed and noticed that she had fallen asleep. Stroking her hair away from her face, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and an even gentler one on her lips. Before he completely lost control, he left.

Bellona was exiting the nursery down the hallway and smiled at him. He pulled her in for a hug before saying, "She's fallen asleep. Maybe you could put her into something more comfortable for sleep?"

Quietly, Bell opened the door to Christine's room as her father walked back down the stairs. She was surprised to find Christine rolled onto her stomach, crying. Forcing herself to be nice, Bellona crossed the room, shutting the door behind her, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently.

Christine did not reply. Bell caught a whiff of alcohol as the younger woman curled onto her side, burring her face into Bell's thigh, sobbing. "I can't—" She seemed to choke on her words and could not finish.

Taking a deep breath, Bell reached down and pulled Christine up, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug and rocking her gently. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know!" she said in a burst. "I don't know what's the matter with me because I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling for him! I never should have come here—I should have stayed in Paris with a ruined career and a tainted reputation. At least I would be confused without him making it worse."

"Darling, I'm not going to lie," Bell said quietly. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Bell," she sobbed. Suddenly, her head shot up, and bloodshot brown eyes bore into Bell's green ones. "Have you ever thought you've been in love with somebody but you didn't know if you were or not?"

Oh, my God. This was not good. "I suppose…" Bell chose her words carefully. "I used to be a somewhat cynical person—I had a hard time believing in falling in love. So when I met Raoul, I told myself it was nothing new—just lusty passion. I kept telling myself it wasn't love. But after a long time with him I realized that it was. It took me a year. But it may have gone quicker if I'd had the courage to actually talk to him about it."

"I should talk to him?"

"Raoul?"

"No," Christine said pointedly.

Oh. "Wait until tomorrow," Bell said, smiling. "Right now, you need to sleep off… what did you have to drink?"

"Wine."

"The stuff that's in the sitting room?"

"Yes."

"Papa made that," she said with a small smile. "It's a bit stronger than most. Here." Hoisting Christine onto unsteady feet, she smiled. "I'm going to help you get ready for bed."

Christine nodded and stumbled a bit, even with assistance, toward her closet. In the short time she had been there, it had been filled with items of clothing for her use. As Bell helped her out of her dress and corset and into a comfortable night gown, the tears that had left Christine before returned, and they now streamed silently down her face. Bell helped her into bed, turning down the covers and tucking her in. She smiled kindly and brushed tears from Christine's face, sitting with her until she was asleep.

Quietly, Bell let herself out of the room and headed back downstairs to look for her father.

No longer in the music room, Erik was relaxing with his feet propped up on the ottoman and a glass of brandy in his hand. Next to him, a rare cigarette was lit, and Bellona could see that, even though he appeared relaxed, he was wound tight as a spring.

"You're not drunk, are you?" she asked bluntly.

Erik opened his eyes and smiled. "No, dear, I've learned my lesson." He held out the bottle and a glass. "Care to imbibe?"

"I think I just may." Taking the brandy from her obviously surprised father, she poured a bit and sat down on the couch. "You're smoking."

"It's not been a comfortable evening." He took a drag and flicked ashes into the trey. "I daresay it's not been for you, either. Problems in paradise?"

"Don't get your hopes up," she said darkly. "Raoul isn't leaving any time soon."

"Damn."

"Funny," she said, sipping her brandy. "No—I wanted to talk to you about Christine."

Erik looked at the brandy in his hand, then at the cigarette. "I'm going to have to roll another one, aren't I?"

"You might." Bellona set the brandy on the table and crossed her arms, nudging her father's feet over so she could share the ottoman with him. "Have you even talked to her? I mean really talked to her," she said, interrupting him before he could even begin to argue. "Not just 'hello' and 'how was your day.'"

"Why should I risk my sanity again to make her uncomfortable?"

"There's a saying," Bellona said slowly, "that those who speak the most truth are children and drunks. And the drunk woman upstairs spilled a bit of truth to me earlier." Standing, Bell pushed Erik's feet from the ottoman to sit in front of him. "She doesn't hate you, papa," she said softly. "I think she's a bit confused about what's going through her head right now, but I know she doesn't hate you. The only way she's going to find out what she's feeling is if you help her. You don't even have to talk about it directly, just… talk to her. Sit with her. Play music with her, if you want. Nothing can hinder it at this point. I think…" She paused. "I believe that, if she isn't already, she is falling in love with you all over again."

Erik did not speak for a long time, and Bellona decided it was best to leave him alone to think. Standing, she drained the rest of her brandy and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, papa."

As she entered her bedroom several minutes later, after checking to see that Aimée was asleep, she found Raoul collapsed on the bed, still dressed and sound asleep. Smiling, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting raven tresses tumble around her shoulders. She gently shook him awake. "Raoul? I need help getting out of my corset."

Groggily, her fiancé opened his eyes and stretched. "Alright," he yawned.

Clumsily, still half asleep, he untied the laces before standing to change into sleeping pants. As she combed her hair, Bell stared at him the mirror. He wasn't quite as muscular as her father, but she thought he was ridiculously handsome. She smiled appreciatively as he stepped over and began to massage the knots out of her back and shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmured. Reaching up, she laced her fingers through his. "Bed?" (a/n Run and hide if you wish, but don't get too scared and forget to review!)

Boyishly, Raoul raced across the room, jumping onto the bed and burrowing under the covers. Smiling, Bell followed, climbing under the quilts next to him. His arm wrapped around her waist and within seconds, her formerly sleepy beloved was tracing her body through the thin cotton of her nightgown. An attractive smirk played across his face as she rolled over and he slowly worked her from her night clothes.

"We have to be quiet," she whispered, smiling. "God forbid Aimée wakes up or papa hears."

"Oh, God," Raoul moaned. "Please promise never to mention your father again when we're about to make love."

"Sorry, my love, I couldn't resist the look on your face."

She wasn't sure when their clothes came off, and knew that when morning came, they'd be difficult to locate, but she was glad for it. When he joined them together, her eyes slid out of focus and she held tight to him.

"So good," he murmured. "You feel so good."

She could not speak to reply. Her voice was lodged in her throat, and all that came out was a low, animalistic groan of pleasure. Holding him tighter, she gasped as he began to move. The fire that had burned within her all week, unable to be released for one reason or another, consumed her from inside. In a matter of a few short minutes, her face was buried in a pillow as she began to climb toward release.

"Say it," Raoul growled into her neck.

"Please…"

"Say it!"

"I…" She gasped as her eyes flew open. "Harder… please…"

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to keep relatively quiet. Unable to stop herself, she let out small gasps and cries of pleasure as she fell into the oblivion of pleasure. Lips pressed hard again hers as Raoul followed her over.

For a moment neither of them moved. When he finally rolled off of her, she was still gasping for breath. She curled onto her side, burying her face in his chest. Raoul gave a small laugh. "You alright?"

Still unable to speak, she nodded, clutching at his arms to pull them around her more tightly. "I love you," she managed to gasp.

"I love you more."

Her breathing had slowed and her brain had returned back to normality enough that she was able to retort smartly. "Would you like to argue your case, sir?"

"Love to."

a/n Two apologies. This took FOREVER to get up. I've been working on it when I get two or three free minutes here and there (I saw Fladermus on Friday and it's now Wednesday). Also, this was a loooooooooong chapter. What can I say? I suck at transitions. Later, all! I'll update more when I can.