First of all...please be patient for Erik to figure out who Christine's mother is, as well as for their inevitable reunion. I would like to take some time to develop Erik and Christine's relationship first. To let him learn to love her for HER, and not because of who her mom is or that she can sing like an angel. I want a nice, firm foundation for their love. The rest will be the icing on the cake.

It will all come in time, I promise, just...wait for it...

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Guest Reviews:

(remember, Guests, if you get an account I can answer you personally!)

EC4ever: THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS...you have done a great job of catching up!

Mystery: Ha ha, nice to know you value my story over sleep. ha ha. Yes, of course Erik remembered things Anna taught him! OH yes, I much prefer dialog than mongol...I really do...but sometime it can't be helped. I guess Erik and Christine could have started talking out loud to themselves, ha ha. And since they will be talking more from here on out, I hope there will not be much for you to 'skip over' to get to the good stuff. ha ha.

Guest: Well...I really didn't want you all to realize the plot of the story TOO soon. ha ha. Glad you are on board now though. Thanks for your wonderful compliments, I am so tickled you like it so well. Yes, Erik needs to take lessons in motivational speaking there, hu? No bricks and no lakes Erik. Bad. ha ha.

TheRebbs98: Nope, they don't know...yet! No, not TOO soon...but in time. Fear not, it will come.

BrittaKnee226: If I were Erik I would keep my mouth shut...Amir is too much of a ladies man, and that might lead to trouble. ha ha. Singing will come in time too. Thanks!

Guessst: Yep, alive and well. I will see what I can do about that 'falling head over heels in love thing'. I will get right on it , ha ha.

PhantomChristine: Well of course you have never read anything like this...I just wrote it. ha ha. I think we ALL hope she will see again...except for maybe Erik. He likes his new toy just the way she is. The reunion will come...be patient. And as for Erik and Christine getting married right away...well, lets see how things go over the next few days and then we will talk.

Jobizzle: Oh yes, FF has no calories! Fest upon the Eriky goodness. Erik can be her seeing eye Phantom? Sounds good to me!

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Chapter 14

A Game of Questions

Erik was happy! At least more so than he had ever been in his entire adult life. His little companion was still quiet, hardly speaking at all during the meal they shared, yet Erik took it in stride, understanding that there would likely be a substantial period of adjustment over the loss of her sight. That night, after she had eaten, taking in what Erik had deemed a healthy amount of the soup as well as two pieces of bread, he once more offered to draw her a bath…to which she reluctantly agreed. He led her into the bathing room and handed her a large absorbent bath towel and a small container of soap for her hair while he filled the tub. She appeared fearful as the sound of the water touched her ears, clutching the items to her chest like a shield. Yet soon her fear seemed to abate and Erik was able to impress her with his marvels of engineering when she quietly inquired if he had hot running water. He smiled broadly and he watched her eyes grow wide with amazement when he answered in the affirmative, not even bothering to hide his look of pride. When the tub was full, he once more asked her if there was anything she needed, describing exactly where he had placed her clean nightdress, his own dressing robe and a pair of thick socks for her feet. Bundled up in those items he felt she might be more comfortable leaving her room, which he dearly hoped she would do more often.

Leaving her alone, Erik stood outside the door and listened, mentally calculating her every move by the sounds she created. It appeared to take her a long time to undress, yet once more Erik chalked that up to apprehension and fear of the water she was about to encase herself in. When he heard the tell-tale sound of water being disturbed, he knew she was climbing in – and very slowly by the sounds of it. Then there was nothing. No movement, no splashing, no loud thump to indicate that she had slipped and fallen in. Erik held his breath and pressed his ear closer to the door in a state of panic. Had she duped him? Had her claim that she no longer wished to kill herself been all for show, a pretense to have him provide an easy method of suicide? Was she at that moment completely submerged in the water, over her head as she breathed her last?

Erik was about to burst in, ready to pull her from her watery grave a second time, when he heard it…crying. Yet this time it was not the deep sobs he had become accustomed to from her, but instead the small and pitiable sound of acceptance. This was followed by the quiet splashes of water as she began to clean herself, obviously using the soap and rag he had left on the small table nearby. With a sigh of relief, Erik left the door and headed off to clean up the soup she had thrown against the wall earlier, now satisfied that his little mermaid would not drown herself on his watch.

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The next several days were all about finding a routine. The first thing Erik did was take her on a tour of his home, directing her to every room he deemed safe or of interest. The laboratory he skipped, deciding that all the glass beakers and fragile vials could be a potential hazard to a blind woman, not to mention the integrity of his ongoing experiments. Since she could not see a clock, he kept her up to date on the time, notifying her when lunch and dinner were approaching. Breakfast was easy, since they ate directly after rising and getting dressed. Erik still sat just inside her doorway each night, doing all he could to comfort her when she cried out in the throes of a nightmare, yet he never dared touch her while doing so. He allowed only his words and songs to soothe the poor girl, yet wishing he could instead wrap her within his arms and not just his voice alone. It was on those quiet night vigils that he recalled Anna's words when he was a child…no one should be left alone when they are scared. Erik remembered this well and took it to heart.

It was already two days past his scheduled meeting time with Amir when Erik realized he had completely forgotten about it. Yet, with a shrug, he brushed away any concern over his forgetfulness. He now had more important things to fill his time and one skipped appointment was a minor annoyance compared to the excitement of attending to Christine. Besides, it was not like the world had come to a screeching halt, and as far as he knew, Amir had not suddenly expired from lack of his company. He would simply explain it away next week by saying he had been too wrapped up in his plans for the music festival. He was certain the Persian was gullible enough to buy it.

The appointment he did not forget, however, was that of retrieving his needed supplies at the location he and Victor had long ago agreed upon. His stores of food were already running low, and with Christine's renewed appetite, he was going through them even faster. So much so that he sent word by post to his assistant that he needed to increase the deliveries to every week, ensuring that his honored guest had fresh milk and eggs to fortify her dietary needs. The ladies' garments the man had procured at Erik's request had been greatly appreciated by Christine. Now that she was not spending all her time in bed, she preferred to dress for the day and the addition of a few new outfits, as well as undergarments, had made her very happy. The smile on her face had prompted Erik to order two more outfits along with a pair of shoes and a house robe of the finest silk. He found it vastly entertaining to see her wearing clothes that he had given her, and he would wait in eager anticipation to see which one she would choose each morning. Perhaps the idea of supplying Christine with intimate apparel should have caused him more embarrassment than it did, yet it was not as if he had to go into a store and select such items himself. That is what he paid Victor for.

It thoroughly astounded Erik that he felt so comfortable around her, something he had not experienced with anyone since losing Anna. But Christine exuded a certain warmth, an alluring lilt to her voice and an appealing countenance, that often left him staring at her in amazement. Her being there felt right…almost familiar.

Christine was still unwilling to speak about herself or her past, which left them with only a few conversation starters, since Erik was equally reluctant to talk about his own. Books, music, current events – well as current as either of them knew – were the topics they chose to discuss, and they seemed to pass the time nicely. Yet, the moment Erik offered to play for her, he knew he had stumbled upon the perfect pastime. Surprisingly, Erik thoroughly enjoyed sharing his music with her, thinking back to the times when he would play for Anna, and she would sit there, very much like Christine now did, enraptured by the melodies he created on the piano, the pipe organ, and occasionally the violin. It was this that prompted his mysterious guest to reveal the fact that both her parents could play instruments, and that her father was a master at the violin. With a bright smile, Christine regaled Erik with stories about how the man could coax such a range of emotions from the stringed instrument, many of his songs able to bring tears to her eyes.

"I am certain that my father would be highly impressed with your skills, Erik," Christine assured him, directly after hearing him perform a piece of his own design. "Our house always had music, but I have never heard anyone play as wonderfully as you. You are truly a master musician, Monsieur."

Erik was grateful that she could not see the blush that stained his neck and chin at her words. He had not heard such praise since Anna, and that had been many years ago.

"Thank… you, Christine," he at last stammered, hurriedly rifling through his papers in an attempt to distract himself. "And might you have inherited some of their musical talent as well?" He had hoped to shift the conversation off of himself, instead, this brought their enjoyable discussion to an abrupt halt.

"I…I am feeling tired now," she suddenly announced, the smile leaving her lips as she stood. "I would like to rest for a while, please."

"Of course," Erik replied rising from the bench to escort her to her room. He was confused by her sudden shift in mood, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the question he had posed to her. Still, he would not press her for an answer…at least not yet. "I did not mean to tire you out by playing so long. I often get carried away and do not know when to stop. An old habit that is hard to break, I fear."

"No…it was not you…I am just tired is all," she insisted, entering her room alone when they arrived at her door. "Thank you," she whispered as she shut it gently behind her, leaving a confused and lonely Erik to entertain himself.

Erik returned to his music room and sat at his piano, staring at the keys without truly seeing them. Instead he saw her. Christine…his dulcet little angel who taunted him day and night. In just a short time he had come to rely on her gentle presence, feeding off her kindness as if it were his life's blood. She was in the forefront of all his thoughts, his waking hours spent thinking solely of her, and at night…at night she even haunted his dreams. Never had Erik been so enthralled with another human being or cared so much about their happiness over his own. Well, there had been Anna, but she had been more of a beloved mother-figure to him…while Christine was something completely different.

Without even thinking, his fingers began to skate over the keys, music forming out of nowhere as he composed a tune inspired solely by her beauty. The notes flowed out of him and filled the room with images of her and her grace. Erik forced himself to stop his creative process long enough to grab some blank staff paper and jot the notes down. Once he had logged all he had played so far, he went back to composing, not once faltering or left searching for inspiration. All he had to do was shut his eyes, picture his beautiful angel, and that was all the motivation he required.

Erik was so lost in his composition that he had completely forgotten the time, and Christine was left to seek him out, having to speak his name several times before he heard her. When he looked up at the clock and saw that it was hours past dinner time, he felt horrible. Some host he was, so wrapped up in his music that he forgot to feed his guest! She must be starving by now, and the thought that he might have made her suffer caused him deep distress. With many words of apology he quickly prepared her a meal, hovering over her as she ate, eager to do anything to make up for his failure to attend to her needs. She repeatedly told him not to worry, but her forgiving nature only made him feel worse. He did not deserve to have such a kind woman in his home…yet he would kill any who dared try and take her!

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Erik found it odd that Christine never requested to leave or asked him to send word to any family or friends to inform them that she was alive and well. She had mentioned having parents, but Erik supposed that both could easily have died some time ago, leaving her without a family to miss her. Perhaps it was rather scandalous that she was staying within his home, a single girl and a bachelor alone and unchaperoned, but if Christine noticed the impropriety of the situation she never said so. It was like they shared some unspoken understanding that she wished to remain hidden away…almost as much as he did. And since Erik had no desire for her to leave, the subject was never mentioned.

Many times when he was not intensely occupied by Christine's company, or writing music inspired by her, Erik would sit in the parlor and shut his eyes, trying to imagine what she was going through. He pictured how his own life would be altered should he suddenly lose the ability to see. Writing music would be difficult, yet not impossible. Cooking, cleaning and other mundane chores that kept his house in good order would obviously prove problematic – yet he supposed he could hire someone to do such things for him if he were that desperate. There would also be the added benefit of never having to see his own hideous face again or the grotesque scars that riddled his body. Being blind was becoming rather appealing until he realized several major drawbacks. Without his eyes, Erik could not build or design, not even draw up a set of blueprints… and to give up architecture would be a painful loss indeed. He would also not be able to look upon the loveliness of Christine, unable to admire the angelic beauty she was - something he had become extremely fond of doing very quickly. No…it was best that he remained among the sighted, for with the use of his eyes, he could now offer Christine his assistance.

It was true that Christine could not cook or clean, but she had him to care for such matters. Granted, she could not read a book on her own, but he was only too happy to sit for hours and tell her stories or read to her from any tome she chose. Christine could not see if the ribbon in her hair was the correct shade to match her dress, but Erik could easily inform her of any fashion faux-pas. And even though she was improving a bit every day, she still needed him to guide her around his underground home, something that he was immensely happy to do. For once in his life…Erik felt needed. He had a purpose and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

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"Where were you born, Monsieur?" Christine asked one evening, causing Erik to pause mid-swallow, choking a bit on his tea as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Pardon?" he asked, once he was able to speak again. They were just finishing dinner, Erik having described the contents of her plate to her in terms of a clock; her meat at one o'clock, her vegetables at four o'clock and her roll at eight o'clock. It had worked out very well. Yet her unexpected question had surprised him, for it had been ten days since he had found her on his lake shore and this was the first time she had shown any interest in him personally - besides asking his name. Erik was not sure how he felt about that.

"I was wondering what country you were born in," she repeated, setting down her fork as she waited for him to respond.

"Why would you care?" Erik was not used to people showing an interest in him, unless there was something for them to gain, leaving him a bit wary.

"I am just curious," Christine answered casually. "You speak perfect French and your voice is so lovely to listen to, yet at times when you talk I can detect several different accents, leaving me wondering about your place of birth."

"Hmmm," Erik hummed in contemplation. He had never considered the fact that he spoke with any sort of accent at all. The Daroga spoke with a foreign inflection, that was certain, and even Victor had a very thick brogue from southern France, but Erik had never noticed any such thing in his manner of speech. How odd. "I must disagree with you, Christine. I am certain that I have no such speech impediment."

This caused Christine to laugh slightly, the sound startling both of them simultaneously. Erik had never heard such a pleasing sound from her before and from the way she quickly covered her lips, it was obvious that she was surprised to have let such a thing escape as well. Still, she composed herself and pressed on.

"I never said it was in any way offensive or unflattering, just a curiosity," she tried to explain.

Erik liked the idea of him being something to be curious about even less. Yet her line of questioning gave him an idea. Perhaps he could use such inquiry to his advantage.

"I will make a bargain with you," he offered, sitting back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I will answer your questions, if you will in turn answer the same ones of yourself. Deal?"

Christine was quiet for a moment before she nodded in agreement. She was still reluctant to divulge details about herself, but at least this way she would be controlling the direction of the questions.

"So…where were you born, Monsieur?" she asked once more.

"France." Erik replied easily.

"Well that is not fair, I was expecting someplace exotic, not right here in our own back yard," Christine said begrudgingly.

"Fair or not, I answered truthfully," he pointed out, leaning in a bit as he posed the question back at her. "And where do you hail from, my dear?"

"Sweden," Christine answered with a sigh of defeat.

Sweden? No wonder Erik had felt a strange kinship to this girl, for she was born of the same people as his beloved Anna. Perhaps that was why she had fit so easily into his life, like a similar piece from a puzzle that had been lost to him so long ago. Though she spoke very fluent French, it had been obvious to him that it was not Christine's native tongue, he had just not been able to place her true origin. Now that he thought about it, he could easily recall her repeating a few idioms and native phrases his nanny had often used. The fact that the two women shared a heritage must be the reason.

"I hear that is a lovely country," Erik commented, unwilling to further share his personal thoughts on the subject. "Do you have any other questions?"

"How old are you?" Christine piped up.

"How old do you think I am?" Erik asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering just what number was running around in her mind.

"Now you are cheating," she scolded. "I ask the questions and you are supposed to answer them, not pose new ones of your own."

"Very well," he chuckled. "I have this very year reached the old and doddering age of thirty-one." When he saw her eyes grow wide with surprise he couldn't help but remark on it. "Is that number more or less than you anticipated?"

"Less," she quickly assured him. "Your manner of speaking and the way you present yourself leads one to believe you are much more…seasoned," Christine finished, searching for the proper word.

"Seasoned?" Erik scoffed. "You make me sound like a plate of vegetables."

"That was not my intention at all, Monsieur!" she quickly assured him. "It was meant as a compliment, I assure you."

Not familiar with such things, Erik mulled it over for a moment before he decided she had indeed meant no offense and instead continued on with their game.

"And what, pray tell, is the vast number of your age, Mademoiselle Christine?"

"I will turn twenty-one this winter," she informed him shyly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Well, you are quite the old maid now, aren't you?" he teased, instantly regretting his words when she looked up at him with a mixture of horror and anger.

"I hardly consider twenty-one to be that old!" she huffed. "Granted, most of my childhood companions are indeed wed with several babies on their knee, but that does not mean I am required to follow suit. Age should not determine when a person is ready to marry! My parents did not meet and fall in love until they were well into their thirties, proving that happiness is not dependent upon marrying young. Instead it should be contingent on compatibility, mutual admiration, explicit trust…and love!"

Erik was taken aback by her forceful words and he held up his hands in a form of defense as he tried to quell her anger.

"Please, I too meant no offense by my jest," he insisted. "I see nothing wrong with your desire of waiting to find the right partner in life." And in truth he didn't. For her insistence on remaining single thus far was a great joy to Erik…a great joy indeed. "I commend you for your convictions and obvious passion on the subject and you will hear no further disparagement from me."

"You…you agree with me?" she asked in disbelief.

"I do," he assured her. "I would not have said so otherwise. I have often been told that I am painfully blunt and do not possess the skills to be diplomatic or spare one's feelings in the giving of my opinion."

This admission brought forth another delightful laugh from Christine, much to Erik's pleasure.

"While I am disinclined to believe such things, Monsieur Erik," she smiled, "I must confess my shock at your open-mindedness. The standards for marriage are woefully different for men and women. A man can remain single very late into his life and no one will think a thing about it. Yet if a woman chooses not to accept the first proposal made to her, it is instantly believed that something is wrong with her." She paused a moment and could feel the heat in her cheeks as she thought of the stares and whispers that had begun to circulate in their small village. Names such as Crazy Christine came to mind, causing her hands to ball into fists. "Not many men condone a woman's right to decide her own fate, to hold out for what she wants in a marriage and to not simply go along with what is expected of her. Back in Sweden I was looked down upon for choosing not to wed at a young age like the rest of my friends. I am afraid your use of the word old maid struck a very raw nerve."

"Then I doubly apologize for my faux pas," he said, begging her forgiveness. Christine's flushed cheeks and angry fists had not gone unnoticed by Erik and his first instinct had been to question her about her parents once more. He wished to learn if they too had been pressuring their daughter to settle down with some man, who in Erik's summation would have been completely unworthy of this angel. For with her radiant beauty and sweet disposition, what man could possibly hope to deserve the affections of one so fine….certainly not him. Yet recalling how the mere mention of them before had ended their friendly discussion, he wisely held his tongue.

"You are forgiven," Christine assured him.

"Do you have any more questions you wish to ask?" Erik sincerely hoped she did, for even if he had managed to incur her ire, he was thoroughly enjoying their conversation. Something he had never imagined he would be having around his small dining table.

"No…I think that is all I need to know for now," she mused, unsure if it was wise to continue with this game, for fear he might glean more information from her than she did him. She could tell he had a quick mind and would easily disarm her in a battle of wits.

"Then perhaps you would care to join me in the music room where I would be happy to entertain you?" he offered, pushing back his chair as he rose and came to her side.

"What about the dishes?" she asked, gesturing in the direction where she believed the empty plates now rested.

"I will tend to them later," he assured her, assisting her rise from her chair with his gentle assistance.

"I wish you would permit me to help you," she chided, allowing him to guide her from the room. "I am beginning to feel like a burden and that was most assuredly not my intention."

"I see, and exactly what was your intention when you so flagrantly washed up on my lake shore?" he asked, once more the teasing tone creeping into his voice.

"Well…certainly not this," she laughed back, finding his question quite humorous.

"Then you can hardly be held accountable, can you?" he insisted. "Besides, you are no burden, I assure you, in fact, I rather enjoy your company. My home can become very…quiet with only myself to talk to."

"Why do you choose to live alone, Monsieur?" Christine asked as he directed her to the comfortable chair he had positioned beside the large pipe organ so that she was directly in his line of sight whenever he looked up from the keys.

"I thought you did not wish to play the question game any longer," he reminded, uncomfortable with the direction her query had taken.

"You are right," she nodded, sensing his reluctance to answer something so personal. "I will hold my curiosity in check."

"And as your reward for doing so, I will now play anything of your choosing," he offered as a compromise, wishing to regain that easiness they had been sharing earlier.

"Do you know any Chopin?" she asked excitedly, this being the first time Erik had taken requests.

"I do," he nodded, having studied the impressive composer quite thoroughly over the years. "Though some call his works technically demanding and note them for their nuance and sensitivity, I find him a bit pedantic. Yet, to please you, I will attempt to lower my standards and play a few of his less offensive pieces."

Christine did her best to stifle a laugh at Erik's blatant feelings of superiority, yet after he began to play one of Chopin's sonatas flawlessly, with no evidence of him having to search for any sheet music, she could find no reason to fault him for it. His own compositions had revealed his genius in her eyes, this only solidified it. So as she settled in, delighting in his masterful playing, Christine began to wonder if Erik truly did have any peers when it came to music.

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Amir was just about to retire for the night, a cup of hot tea and a good book in his hands, when he heard a knock at his door, alerting him to the fact he had an unexpected guest. Waving off his manservant, Darius, he went to the door himself and was a bit taken aback to find Victor Batton, Erik's resident errand boy, waiting on the other side. As a former Persian police officer, Amir had made it his business to learn everything there was to know about Erik's current situation, and locating the young man who continued to work for his suspicious companion had not proven difficult. With a few well-placed threats, he had convinced Victor that it was in his best interest to inform him should Erik's habits ever take a, shall we say, sinister turn. The fact that the blond headed young man with the boyish face was now standing on his doorstep at this late hour did not bode well.

"Monsieur Batton," Amir greeted the seemingly nervous man. "What brings you here?"

"You…you said I should…well…advise you if I felt my employer was ever engaging in…questionable acts?" he sputtered, nervously looking over his shoulder while he spoke, as if he feared Erik might somehow learn of his betrayal and jump out of the shadows to kill him.

"That I did," Amir nodded, stepping aside as he invited the man in. Once the door was shut behind him, Victor seemed to relax…but only slightly. "And what has led you to conclude that he is engaging in questionable acts, as you put it?" Amir had been perplexed when Erik did not show up for their usual meeting last week, yet he had just assumed the man had been overly offended by some things he had said and chose to teach him a lesson by standing him up. He had not allowed it to unduly concern him, however, expecting to find the masked man waiting in their normal spot the following week, as if nothing had happened. Now he began to worry he should have taken his absence more seriously.

"I am not sure if questionable is the right word for it…perhaps it could be better described as an oddity?" Victor confessed, almost as if he were recanting his accusation out of panic or a sense of loyalty to his employer. "And the last thing I would ever want is to say anything that would get Monsieur Erik in trouble…but you had promised that you only wished to help him, correct?"

"That is right," Amir confirmed. "I have been looking out for our mutual friend for many years now and I have found that it is best to head off any suspicious activities before they have the opportunity to escalate into something of a more serious nature. You did the right thing in coming to me."

"I hope so, for I would never wish to betray my employer's trust or confidence. And I am sure that I am making mountains out of molehills…but I thought it best I let you know…just in case." Victor was growing more reluctant by the second and Amir was afraid the man would suddenly bolt and run without explaining himself.

"In case of what?" the Persian insisted, growing impatient. "What has he done?"

"He…he has been asking me to procure some rather strange items for him. Things that…well…things I do not see him being in need of if he were in possession of a sound mind," Victor finished, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Amir for inspection.

Taking the parchment in his hand, Amir read it quickly, fear gripping at his chest as he did so. The beginning of the note was harmless enough; Erik was requesting that Victor increase his deliveries to twice a week and then proceeded to list the items he wanted. The amount and variety of the food was a bit surprising, given Erik's aversion to eating in general, but it was the last few articles on the list that caused Amir's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Women's clothing?" he gasped, reading on. "A silk dressing gown and…a corset! Merciful Allah, what have you done, Erik?" he mumbled in a mixture of worry and grief.

"Then I was right in telling you, Monsieur?" Victor conferred, seeing that the Persian's reaction had mirrored his own. "At first I thought maybe it was some mistake, that perhaps he had been drunk when he wrote the previous list, yet when this second one asked for similar items, I became greatly concerned."

"As well you should," Amir nodded. "You say this is not the first time he has requested such things?"

"No, last week he asked for two dresses in the exact same size as well as other garments of…well…of an intimate nature." The blush that came over his face left Amir feeling sorry for the lad, for as far as he knew, young Victor was not married and the idea of him having to go into a ladies' store to get such things surely would have mortified him. "I know that Monsieur Erik is rather…shall we say, unique…but I am quite certain that he is not crazy. Yet, insane or not, I know for a fact that none of the clothes I purchased would ever have fit his distinctive build."

"Indeed," Amir agreed, noting the unusually small sizes that were jotted down beside the list of clothing. This revelation suddenly brought back to mind something Monique had told him during their last rendezvous. When questioned about the antics of the Opera Ghost, she had admitted that he had been rather quiet the past week, citing only two incidents of a curious nature going on at the opera house. One being that a few dresses from the costume department had gone missing and the second that the ballet rats claimed that two nightgowns had disappeared as well. It was believed that one of the new chorus girls might have been helping herself to things that did not belong to her, but so far no one knew who the culprit was. Amir had quickly dismissed this, not seeing how Erik would have been involved with such thievery, yet now he began to think otherwise. What the hell did Erik need with women's clothing? There were only two explanations for this, and since Victor's shrewd reasoning on the first choice was sound, that left Amir with only one other conclusion….one that filled him with a sense of dread.

"When are you scheduled to deliver these items?" Amir asked, refolding the note and handing it back to the shaken man.

"Tomorrow at noon," Victor informed him.

"I take it you have already procured these things?" At the way the poor man's face turned six shades of red, Amir assumed he had. "Then make the drop as planned, do not do anything that would cause Erik to think something is amiss. I will see to the rest."

"Please, Monsieur Dessan, don't let Erik get into any trouble over this," Victor begged, looking truly grieved at the idea. "He has been a very generous employer over the years and I have grown to respect him, despite his gruff exterior and quick temper. I would just die if I was the cause for any misfortune to befall him. You promise that you will help him…that you will protect him?"

"Like I said, I have been doing just that for years," Amir assured him. "I am rather proficient at getting Erik out of scrapes as well as hiding the evidence for the ones I could not. I am sure this is all some kind of odd mistake and that there is a very reasonable explanation. Do not worry; I will see that things are handled in his best interest."

This seemed to ease much of the stress Victor was feeling, and with a shake of his hand and a word of thanks, the young man headed back out into the night, leaving Amir to contemplate what he needed to do next.

While he had not told Victor any lies, he truly hoped that he could live up to his promise to keep Erik out of trouble. Amir had no qualms about overlooking some minor wrongdoing on Erik's part that could have possibly landed his charge in jail. He had been doing that ever since he had discovered Erik's Opera Ghost persona. As the man who had originally brought Erik to Persia, Amir felt a sense of responsibility for him, the need to make amends for the role he had played in the pain and torment the masked man had suffered at the hands of the Shah. That was why he had risked his own life to set him free, to help him escape the sentence of death he had been commissioned to carry out. Oh, he never once underestimated Erik's capability to do harm, he had seen his skills put to use far too many times back in Persia, yet he had always hoped there was still a spark of goodness left in him. Something that could be nurtured and grow into greatness if the poor man could only be left alone by the people and hatred this world seemed to foist upon him.

However, when he thought of the strange list Victor had shown him, he felt a chill run down his spine. Had his foolhardy suggestion that Erik pay a lady of the evening for her services taken a very wrong turn? Amir had thought such an act might alleviate some of Erik's constant agitation, not bring on a whole new set of troubles for the masked man. A multitude of scenarios began to race though his mind. Had Erik paid some girl to pleasure him and something had gone terribly wrong? Perhaps she had become curious and removed his mask - an unforgivable act that could have easily led to her imprisonment. Or maybe this woman had so pleased him that Erik had kidnapped her and was now keeping her down in his lair, needing these extra items so he could adequately feed and clothe his little captive? But what if it was completely innocent? Erik could simply be plying some girl with gifts, either in an attempt to woo her or for some other unknown reason. Still, the intimate nature of the items on the list caused the Persian to be rightly concerned.

Amir moaned in frustration, for nothing made sense! While he had often told Erik that he had great potential, he was not foolish enough to believe that just any woman would be able to overlook the masked man's unfortunate appearance or his surly attitude. It would take a very special woman indeed to see past the façade Erik had built up over the years as a means of protection. Yet Erik was still a man, and just like all men, he too had needs that would eventually require fulfillment.

"Oh, Erik…what have you done?" he asked with a sigh of grief.

Well...something tells me that Amir is going to find out!

Now many of you have been anxious to see what happens with Christine's sight, if Erik will ever find out Anna is her mother or when they will be reunited at last. Well, I am happy to announce that if you NEED to know...like NOW...then you can go to Amazon . com and purchase "Seeing is Believing" by Ann Maggard, in full as a download for your Kindle. That way there is no waiting, you can learn everything in one fell swoop. OR, you can continue to tune in three times a week here and find out free of charge. Your choice. BUT, if you do buy it, please conciser privately PMing me (so as not so spoil it for the rest of the readers) and telling me what you thought when you are all done...I will miss you and your reviews if you suddenly disappear.

That being said...what did you think of her bath and Erik's worry?

Erik losing himself in music and forgetting everything around him...AGAIN.

Their game of questions?

Erik feeling that something about Christine seems familiar to him...

Amir and Victor's talk over Erik's odd requests.

Thanks and see you on Friday!