This chapter is rated PG-13. Please be advised.

The room was well lit and warm from the roar of the fireplace. Erik kneeled down to wipe Christine's brow. He was worried. While he was able to break her fall, he couldn't comprehend how she was fine and soothing one moment, only to be too weak to gain her composure the next. Meg and Justin offered to help, but Erik was determined to carry her himself and take her home.

"Uncle Erik, let us help you."

"Megan, I've got her. I'll take her home." He carefully gathered her in his arms.

"Monsieur, please allow me to offer the use of my carriage. I do hope that nothing is seriously wrong with her."

Erik looked at Justin's face for the first time. Something in him told him to not accept the invitation. Rather than waste time wrestling with his intuitions, he lifted his Angel up and politely declined.

"Thank you, but I have her and I know what she would want." He then looked at his niece. "Another time. I'll send word."

Before Justin or Meg could reply, they were gone.

"Why did I want to distance myself from him? He was only offering his help…." He looked again at Christine, and pulled her hair out of her face. "Why is it that I think you would have agreed?"

The sound of his voice made her turn suddenly. Her movements caused Erik to give her his full attention. He took the damp cloth and wet her forehead once more. This time she felt his touch and uttered his name.

"Erik…."

"Shh, my dear. Save your strength. You're perfectly fine now."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Erik…." She smiled at the sight of him, but then remembered why she felt so weak. This time her voice was more panicked. "Erik!"

"I'm right here. You fainted at the sight of Justin. Are you telling me you fell for a pretty face?" He tried teasing to make her smile, but her face was still troubled. "Angel, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I….." He couldn't have told him. Erik wouldn't be here if he did….. "I feel foolish for ruining your meeting. I never should have come." She tried sitting up. "Why do I feel so weak?"

I was afraid you would feel restless, and I remember how sometimes your mind turns to nightmares." He felt terrible. "I gave you a small dosage of a tonic. It's safe, but it will make you incredibly drowsy. I didn't want you to have a restless night, and with my being here, I thought I could monitor you better. I'm sorry, Angel."

She closed her eyes, but was frustrated she couldn't talk as fast as she wanted to. "No….I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…..Be a…Burden."

"A burden? I have the most beautiful women in all of France, defenseless and in my lair. How is that a burden?" He winked and saw the corners of her mouth start to curl up. "Now that you are somewhat coherent, would you like me to get you some tea?"

She shook her head slowly, while he held her hand.

He thought for a moment. "Brandy? Because I am pretty sure this occasion causes for brandy." He looked to see her expression, and when she tightened her grip of his hand, he looked down.

"Just you….I only need you."

Erik could have died in that very moment. All he ever wanted was to hear words of love from his beloved's lips. "Then you are in luck Mademoiselle, for I happen to be to belong exclusively to you." He took his free and cupped her chin. "Would you like a story, while you settle back to sleep?"

She opened her eyes and he knew her answer. "Very well, my lady. I don't believe I ever told you the story of the thorn bird."

This time she fought hard to keep her eyes opened. "I adore…. Your stories…..Tell me, please?"

"The story of the thorn bird is really a legend. As soon as the bird is able to fly and leave its mother's nest, it sets off on a long journey to find the most beautiful rose garden. The bird doesn't rest until it finds perfection in its eyes. Once the bird is certain of its choice, it begins to sing the most captivating melody that it outshines the lark and the nightingale."

She grinned. "This is your…..Attempt to want me to strive….. For….Perfection. Always the maestro."

"Not exactly. Although one can view the story in such a way. See as the bird sings, it impales itself on the sharpest thorn of the rose. It's driven to the rose by its quest and pays its life for that one song. A slave to music. But the bird has no knowledge of what it does. It's was beyond the birds control, thus there is no thought of sacrifice or pain.

Humans, my Christine, know of the pain they will endure, yet they do it anyway. They continue their quest because finding that perfect song….That perfect love is worth the price."

She met his gaze and before sleep took her, she whispered, "I love you."

….

Erik was in his kitchen mentally cursing his wicked luck. Why did I give her that blasted tonic? She loves me. She actually said it. I heard it with his own ears. It was no longer a dream. Now I will be forced to wait until she wakes up to discuss it. But what if she doesn't remember? What if she didn't really mean to say it? What if bringing it up embarrasses her?

"Damn you Allah or God or anyone who is actually up there watching the life that is Erik Dexter!"

Just then he heard a sound coming from one of the traps he had set through the lair to keep intruders away and from gaining an advantage. His thoughts went to Christine. He wished he had moved her to her bedroom, which would have been safer than the den that was one of the first rooms upon entering his home. He went to his study and took out his revolver. Carefully he loaded the gun and went through one of his secret entrances to avoid having Christine see him leave with a weapon.

Who would enter this place as an enemy? Who wishes to harm me? He then paused with fear. What if they mean to harm her?

Erik knew every inch of his territory and was very crafty when installing the traps. They were strategically placed so intruders once caught, would automatically alert him of what location they were at. He was thankful he took special care at instructing both Megan and Christine on how to avoid the dangers.

He made his way through the crawl space and with a forceful tap in the right center of the wood, it opened and allowed the wall to vanish and make appear a stone path leading straight to a fenced -in cell that would hold the intruder prisoner by blocking his attempt to move forward, and ensuing he could not go back, due to the chain rope that pulled on his neck.

Erik saw the figure try and free himself, but he was no match for Erik's inventions. He thought about moving in closer, and getting a good look at the fool, before pulling the trigger, but decided it would be better to take him by surprise. With a smug look on his face, he pulled the safety cap on the revolver and aimed. He was about to shoot, when he heard the man's voice.

"Erik, you bastard! Get me out of here!"

"Nadir?" He stepped out and allowed himself to be seen. "What the devil are you doing here? I could have killed you."

Although he knew it was useless, he was still trying to free himself from the chain. "At least your time in Persia hasn't left you. Why are you standing there? Get me down!"

"First tell me why you're here." He put the revolver away and suppressed his grin.

"Are you mad? You asked me to come. Something about tracking down French nobles. Seriously if this is how Parisians greet their friends, I will go back and take my chances with the Shah."

…..

Try as she did to fight off her past, the shock of seeing Justin again was all too powerful for the tonic to prevent. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was racing back to her time at the de Chagny estate.

The room was dark and there was a poignant smell that surrounded her. She could barely move. She had no recollection of what day it was, or week, or month. Every since the night she had told Raoul she was leaving, nothing had been the same. She was afraid to make a noise. Afraid he was there, watching her… waiting for her….He said he wouldn't let her leave him until she had suffered for crime. He had felt ill used and wasn't about to have a common theatre whore make a fool of him.

She felt a burning sensation in between her legs. It hurt to move and even more so to urinate. The excessive and repeated acts of torture and violence against her body made her want to cry out to God above and just have him take her from this life. Sometimes, during the act she would pray he would kill her and finish the job. She was already dead inside. She died the first morning she realized he had stolen her innocence. Stolen…Violated…Raped.

However it wasn't just the violation and feeling of being nothing more than a thing. He never talked to her. He just ordered and threatened and hit. At times he would show some mercy and just strike her with his hand. But most times, he would use a whip, or cold steal objects that would leave her with cuts and bleeding. It would be days before he allowed a servant to attend to her wounds.

When Raoul wasn't there, he would keep the room in darkness, refusing to open a window and chained the door. In the beginning she tried to fight and escape. Yet one night, he saw her climb down from the window. They struggled, but once he rammed her head on the ground, he carried her back inside and broke her leg, so she wouldn't be able to climb out again. She didn't dare risk his wrath again. It wasn't death she feared anymore, it was the pain. She could no longer subject herself to the torture. She prayed for death nightly.

One day she heard loud voices come from downstairs. One of the servants had forgotten to close her bedroom door completely. Had she not lost her will to live, she may have attempted to run, but she knew it was pointless. She was too weak to fight off him off. She already felt worthless, what was the point any longer?

"Come now cousin, why would you forgo the family trip and go to Paris alone? We all know you are hiding some nice piece…."

Justin looked at his older cousin in disgust. "Contrary, to what you two think of women, I respect them. And once again, my desire to go to Paris is for its art and culture and music, I will be frequenting the Opera house there and for once I will have no reason or care for my title. For the only people worth seeing are the ones on that stage."

Phillip looked at Raoul. "It must run in the family. Justin, don't do what your cousin Raoul did. He was almost bewitched by some wanton theatre vixen. Thankfully, he listened to me before she could get his clutches into him."

Sighing in frustration, Justin had just about enough. "You two are complete buffoons. For the last time, I want to experience art and not be treated differently because of who I am. I want to be appreciated and respected for what I am."

"A pansy?" Phillip and Raul laughed.

Justin went for his coat. "I will take my leave. Pleasure seeing you both again. In fact each time I am here I remember why I stay away so long."

"We have people who will get your coat." Raoul rang for the servant.

Justin placed his hat on his head. "I was in walking distance from it and there is no need to make them come from upstairs to downstairs. I have seen your young servant girl pass over here three times coming from the bedroom up there. Frankly, it has me curious. Do you have house guests?"

Raoul panicked and Phillip gave him a cold stare. Finally, the older brother spoke to his cousin. "We may have some friends visit from Normandy."

Justin looked confused. "Friends? Who might that be? I don't need my side of the family's reputation tarnished, dear cousin. Please try to not be yourselves." He looked at them both and with a quick turn of the doorknob he left promising himself he would try to never return.

Raoul watched from the curtain until Justin's carriage took off. "That was quick thinking."

Phillip came towards him and smacked him across the face. "You imbecile! I told you it has been far too long. Get her out of this house at once!"

"But I like it." His eyes looked as dark as the sentiment behind them.

"Like what?"

"Dominating her. She is no longer uppity or proud. She fears me and will do whatever I say. I am stronger with her now."

"Raoul, you are sick. You are a coward, if you feel good by bedding that whore. You've had your fun, now stop being a slave to your member, and get this house in order. I am leaving the day after tomorrow and I want things back to normal. After all it's been what two, three months? Take out the trash."

Phillip went upstairs and Raoul followed. He glanced at the door and became enraged. "Who the hell left her door opened?"

"What?"Raoul touched the door and walked in. "It makes no matter, she hadn't left her bedside in almost two months."

"Two mouths?" Phillip barged in and almost passed out from the stench. "Christ, get some air into this room. We still plan on entertaining in the future." He then yanked the bed sheet that were around Christine, revealing her naked, dirty body. She whisked, but did not move. "Raoul, how long as she been in bed like this?"

Raoul opened the window. "I told you a month or more."

Phillip eyed her body and paid very close attention to her stomach. "You stupid, callus, imbecile. When was the last time she bled?"

"I make her bleed all the time." He said with satisfaction.

Phillip walked over and slapped his brother across the face again. "Look at her, she may be with child."

"Ch…Child?"

"Yes you incompetent boy. Get rid of it and then dispose of her."

"I…can just toss her out and be down with it!"

"No, you fool, you cannot. You need to ensure it is killed. I will not have a de Chagny bastard running about. She will forever have that against you. Get her clean and dressed and take her to the outskirts. I will give you the name of someone. She is discreet, but she will cost money. Do not return until both these problems are gone, understand?"

Raoul shook with fear. "Will it hurt her?"

Phillip scoffed. "You care about that now? You are pathetic." He turned to leave. "Do not disappoint me again."

Phillip let the room, with a scared Raoul following behind him.

Christine touched her stomach. "No…. Don't kill my baby."