It was much later that I found myself in an old apartment in Tallinn, Estonia. It was an eleven hour trip from where we were—Moscow, apparently—to here.

It took longer than I thought it would for my wits to return to me. The trip was spent clinging to Erik—because if I let him go, how could I trust that I wouldn't suddenly lose him again? I could fall out of the car, we could get into an accident, we could be attacked—

He had to remind me to breathe often, no doubt shocked that for the first time in our travels I did not, in fact, pass out as soon as I was stationary. I stayed awake, wired, my eyes fixed on the road and waiting for any potential danger to befall us.

The apartment was a gentle mix of old world and new world design, tending closer towards neutral colors that gave it a sense of peace. It was a comfortable size for two, despite the fact that it only held one bed. Erik grimaced when I noticed, placing a familiar bag on the bed and throwing his own on the couch in a silent plea for me to say nothing of it.

I had spent the entire trip on high alert… Probably because as soon as I calmed down enough, I knew this would happen. I would start cataloguing his color—worry, uncertainty, notice the tension in his shoulders, read the lines of stress in his body.

It showed me that I wasn't the only one that had gone through hell in the last twenty-four hours… Or so, since I truly didn't know how long I was away from him.

A man of action, after we were situated and he directed me to the facilities should I require them, he went straight to preparing a simple meal. He spoke barely a word to me.

The silence had once been a comfortable companion between us—with him working on something and me reading a book from his library. Now it threatened to squeeze the life from me.

The coward I was, I excused myself to use the bathroom, closing the door.

It was like shutting myself off from the sun and giving myself over to a freezing and dark winter.

Thoughts surged as I pulled myself to the mirror, overlooking all details of the bathroom. There could have been a pony in the room and I would never have noticed.

The face that stared back at me was not the free girl I had seen a week or so before.

Dark circles, hollow eyes, pale skin.

Murderer.

The face crumpled as I sunk to my knees, barely clinging to the edge of the sink as a strangled sob escaped me.

What have I become?

That was, of course, how Erik found me. I absently wondered as he picked me up and carried me to the dining table how long it would take for him to grow tired of me. I felt so different from the girl he had first saved. I had been pure then.

With infinite gentleness, he seated me at the table before a large bowl of soup.

"It's canned, but you will feel better after you have something in your stomach." His voice, so kind and soft, was a balm to my broken soul. It was hard not to just fall into him. To let him make everything alright.

I basically already had.

Stopping had been nearly impossible for more than what it took to fill up his car, and I'd nearly had a melt down when he walked out of my sight for even a moment. Needless to say, neither of us had eaten in quite awhile.

I stared down at the food for a moment before looking up at him.

Concern. Sincerity. Affection. Worry.

My brows furrowed. How could he not see how repulsive I was now?

"Why…"

"Do you need to eat?" he tried to finish for me when I couldn't. "I don't think we need a repeat of the biology talk, do you?"

He was trying to keep it light. A warm feeling grew in my chest, reminding me what I'd realized in those dark hours.

I love this man.

Cheeks flushing with the first color in hours, I blinked at him rapidly before I could formulate a response. "No. Why do you… care. About me. I… I killed a man, you know?"

His expression didn't change. His emotions didn't change. Had he not seen when he found me? I had tripped over the dead man's body!

"Are you sure you want this conversation on an empty stomach?" He asked, sitting before me with a teacup. He looked completely nonchalant, but there was a sharpness to his eyes. He knew.. Something.

The glow to my cheeks paled once more. I didn't like that look, like he could see right through me in a way that not even I could see through him. Lowering my face, I dipped the spoon into the soup and drank.

It was tasteless to me, nerves robbing me of it. But it was warm as it went down, reaching a part of me that had stayed full of dread and chill for too long.

It was finished probably faster than it should have, but my stomach didn't feel like it would riot. I grimaced, reminded of the last time it did.

Erik lowered his teacup the same time I lowered my spoon, pushing his chair out as he stood with all the grace and elegance he always seemed to possess. He moved to stand behind me, every bit a gentleman as he helped me out from my seat. He directed me to the sofas behind me, taking a seat on the strange ottoman/chaise directly in front of it.

They were low seats and when a man of his height sat at it, his knees were bent at odd angles, nearly touching mine. The almost touch was enough to keep me calm, to stave off the tide of insanity threatening to pull me under.

"Now, my dear—"

I flinched, his emotions immediately rising in response. Fear, concern, worry.

"What is it?" he asked quickly, arms reaching out towards me. But he didn't touch me, his hands falling back and clenching against his knees.

"I'm sorry," I shakily replied, hands reaching to smooth over my face. I didn't want to be upset by the endearment, didn't want something that was so distinctly him to be tainted by the one time Vladimir said it. He hadn't even known about Erik—because if he had, he would have taunted me with him instead of Raoul. "It's nothing."

He did not believe me, his thinned lips and narrowed eyes telling me that. But he didn't reject it either. A small kindness.

"I think it is past time for you to explain why there are people willing to go to war over you. I have done what I can to wait; after all, I understand the need for certain secrets." He waved a hand towards his face. "However, this now affects my ability to keep you safe." His jaw set at that. Insulted. His pride was hurt. "I shall answer your question first, Christine."

My name on his lips immediately drew me in, drawing in a breath. It was like his tongue was caressing my name as it slipped out of his mouth… Like he was tasting something delicious.

"Do you not understand how much blood taints my hands? If I thought less of you for an act that occurred out of self-defense, I would be no better than the unwashed masses." He gave me a hard look of challenge. "Your turn."

Panic hit me. I stalled.

"I.. I have two conditions, first. Would you humor me?"

"Depends." That did not help my anxiety.

I could see his aura. I stared hard at it, looking past the colors of his moods.

When I had first met him, I had been charmed by such a varied aura—and one where the black seemed to exist in harmony rather than overshadowing all there was. It was as if the artist had personally mixed the colors slowly, drop by drop, until they reached the perfect cool gray. His edges had been dipped in darkness, stained—that was what always called me to share my light.

I had sung for him several times now, and knew by sight that his darkness had almost entirely disappeared. He required one more song before his body would be healed.

I knew now that when he'd first ask me to sing for him in payment for my escape, he'd never expected me to heal him. And I knew I had done it because I wanted to. Not because he had asked it of me. I held so many years now after… I mentally blocked out the event, shuddering. It would only be right to share them with Erik, my savior. My protector.

He might not want to be near me after he knows what I am capable of, what I have done to myself to help him, but I at least owed it to him.

"Would you let me sing for you?"

He looked momentarily surprised before his eyes grew suspicious. "I have thought about this before… Your voice holds such heavenly tones. Do you mean to use it to escape explaining? I warn you, Christine, I will not let this go, even if I should pass out."

"I… I don't want you to let it go. I owe you ample explanation. I promise, even if you black out, I won't go anywhere. I'll wait for you."

He slowly nods, deeming that acceptable. "And your second condition?"

It was the most embarrassing. I looked down at my hands, eyes catching where the purple ring had adorn my skin for so long. I had wondered for a time if I would never be free of it, a constant reminder of what might await me if I am not careful.

I opened my mouth to tell him what I wanted… Only to close it. I was going to ask for the lights to be out like a coward so I wouldn't have to see the rejection in his eyes and aura. But no. I had to face him head on. I had to be honest… About everything. How I felt about him and what I'd done to him.

Before everything else, he needed to know that I loved him.

I looked back up at him, flashing an uneasy smile. "Promise.. Not to freak out."

I didn't wait for him to promise. I opened my mouth and allowed gentle lyrics to weave around us.

It didn't wear me out like it did before. It didn't cause any pain. Maybe because I had so much in excess that my body was happy to give it away.

Or maybe it was just a selfish kind of happiness, knowing that in some way I was helping the man I love.

I watched the darkness inking over his edges disappear, becoming smooth and perfectly gray. He was healed, his body in perfect condition.

The song was over before I was ready to tell him the truth.

Dread swirled in my belly.

Surprisingly, Erik did not pass out this time. Perhaps it had something to do with how light the darkness around his aura had been. It probably had something to do with the mask he always wore, but it could have very well been much more serious—affecting his body processes inside as well—since it took a good twenty-five years of my life to heal.

Instinctively, I knew I had ninety-five years. At this moment, I could live to be one hundred and fifteen. The thought made me feel just a little ill.

He looked at me, head tilting to the side as if trying to understand what was different this time. I tried to just shrug it off, mind racing about what I was about to say.

When I realized how I felt, I didn't even expect to tell him, let alone see him again. It was so overwhelming, do I just come out and say it!?

"Christine…"

It was a gentle prod. To talk.

I took a deep breath in and then let it out with a whoosh. I was shooting myself in the foot anyways, might as well go out with a bang.

"Before I tell you exactly why everyone wishes to possess me like an object, there's something I have to say. To tell you."

Erik's emotions were struggling to stay patient, but he knew I was stalling. His raised eyebrows seemed to be conveying an obvious 'well?'

"I love you, Erik. I'm in love with you."

I knew it was surprising, we'd known each other for maybe two weeks… But it was true. Even if it was surprising, I didn't expect such a… volatile reply.

Erik exploded. His emotions first. Light and gentle emotions gave way to turbulence that put any plane I'd been on to shame.

Shock. Astonishment. Awe. Joy. Dismayed. Nauseated. Overwhelmed. Horrified.

And then his body.

He tore himself away, bounding over the little ottoman in an effort to escape me. The spot he left was like a massive void.

The mood swing seemed to sweep me up with them, hopeful and optimistic… And then complete despair. When I had wondered how he had reacted, this was never the scenario I envisioned.

Had… Had I ruined everything?

I pulled my legs to my body, hugging them to me—a coping mechanism. An explosion of anger was nothing new. I had dealt with worse before. Just… never from Erik. I turned slightly, keeping him in my field of vision. He was pacing through the apartment, muttering to himself as that lovely gray tapestry of a aura was painted with the most hideous colors. I hadn't even known he could be capable of such colors. Had he been… Could he have been holding back all this time? Concealing them? That the colors he'd shown were only the tip of the iceberg?

And why… Why was he so upset that I loved him?

"Erik?" I called out to him weakly, scared of the response.

He cut off his mutterings, head whipping to stare me down with those blazing yellow eyes. I couldn't see any of the tenderness he usually showed me, however. They looked crazed.

"Ah, yes!" he hissed, moving closer with long legs. The strides looked barely contained, a large cat prepared to pounce. "You must tell me how you are able to lie through your teeth, my dear."

I flinched at the endearment once again. He did not miss it.

"Even now, you can barely handle my affection! See how you recoil from such a simple address!" He set his hands on the back of the couch, leaning in close. I didn't pull back, even when I could make out the amber in his eyes and feel the heat of his breath.

Those eyes, so full of pain and longing, called to me. Screamed for salvation. My hand rose, almost of its own accord to cup his cheek.

He balked, drawing back even. He seemed uncertain for a moment before something occurred to him, allowing him to pull his shields back up securely around him as a sneer appeared on his face. He stalked around the couch, giving me the time to try to bolster my spirits. He wouldn't have spoken of any affection had he felt nothing for me.

It gave me courage. Hope.

"You speak of love, tempting the beast with what he cannot have! Beast tamer, scheming Delilah!"

Hurt bloomed in my chest. He stopped before me, retaking that void he'd left in his wake before. This time, however, he was so, so close. Closer, and the look in his eyes… he meant to shock me. Like a child might use a curse word to shock someone and gain the advantage.

"But now you will see!"

He ripped off his mask and wig, the intensity of his movements and the ferocity of his aura overwhelming me. Blue and purple slapped together like a raging wave, the color resembling that of an eggplant. The howl of anguish that escaped him stabbed at my very soul. Grief. Self-loathing. Despair.

"Look at me!" He wailed, even as his emotions begged me to save him. "Tell me I'm hideous! No one could love such a beast!"

I looked. I looked hard at him. Tried to see the monster in the man. But.. there was nothing upon his face that no other man held. Eyes, though a strange color—the best color, I'd decided—looked no different than another. A aquiline nose, just barely hooked like an eagle's beak. It looked like hair had recently sprouted on his head, the hairs dark and promising to be every bit as full as the wig I hadn't realized he was wearing. A strong chin. Full cheeks. Thin lips. One side of his face was a bit paler than the other, but being hidden behind a mask would do that to a person.

He was beautiful.

I had done this. With my voice. Whatever had been there before, it wasn't there now. Whatever had shaped his life, I had stolen from him. Would he see this as a curse? To be robbed of the reason for his pain? Or would this become the greatest blessing? He no longer had to live the way he once had. He could be anyone. He could be with.. Anyone. Would he… leave me?

The thought gave me such terror that I surged forward, feet hitting the ground to give myself the leverage needed, with such speed that he cowered back from me, a splash of vivid green appeared before me as he tripped and fell onto the chaise. Terror. It stopped me short, my hand reaching out for him. Wishing to bridge the rift between us but unable to. He thought.. I would harm him?

His golden eyes watched my hand like a fearful animal might, waiting for the pain.

Fingers slowly curling inwards as my arm fell limp to my side, I tried my best to convey my feelings to him. He wasn't like me. He couldn't see my color. How could I make him understand?

"Even if.. You were a repulsive monster, my feelings would never change. You are my savior. For that alone, I will always love you." Even if you don't want me for what I've done.

My eyes burned, shoulders trembling. I did my best to force a solid front before him, but it was so hard. A wild animal would sense fear. Or perceive such a spectacle as fear. I could not allow him to live in the misunderstanding that I feared him.

"Never will I stop loving you." The amount of fervor that backed up that promise shook me. Like a palm tree in a hurricane. "And because I love you… You have to know the truth."

A maniacal look came into his eyes, his body language. I had to wonder if he could hear me, if he could see me. For surely, he could not see me as I saw him.

"The truth!" He spat out, more beast than man as he exploded into motion like a pent up jaguar. Waiting for an opening. To go in for the kill. "She speaks of truth, yet she refuses to see what is before her!" He stopped, so still I could have confused him for a statue. And then he was upon me, strong hands gripping my wrists and forcing my hands against his face. "Feel it! Look upon the monster who loves you!"

Forced, I did not fight against him. My hands flattened against his face. There was no illusion here, the skin firm and taut with a healthy glow about it under my fingers.

Tears streamed down my face, despite the effort I'd put forth not to. "I am sorry," I whimpered. "I am so sorry."

"Yes!" he spat in my face, fury in those eyes. He could not see me. He was lost somewhere in his memories. "Pity for your monster! No love, only pity! Do you not wish to see your dear friend, Raoul? Tell me you love me and I will allow you to see him once more!"

I could feel my heart—what was left of it—breaking for this splintered man. It was a soft sound, like the snapping of a bird's wing. He thought he could only gain my love through the true corruption, the genuine beast, Raoul?

"How.. How do you even know of him?" My voice was quiet, fighting off the despair I knew was just under the surface, waiting for an excuse to pull me under.

"There! You see, you cannot deny it! Did you think it was some special secret, the childhood love you felt for that fop?! What a picture perfect life you would have had before ugly Erik took you away!"

"Do you think so lowly of me?" I whispered. My hands would have fallen from his cheeks had he not held them in place, to recoil away from the pain his words caused. "That I would never love you for you? That you must use that bastard to gain my love?"

There. The colors changed. I had gotten through to him. Shock, confusion. He didn't know what to make of me insulting a man he thought to be my true love.

"...do you hate me?" I croaked.

The coldest, saddest blue overcame him and he slid to his knees between my legs, hands releasing me as he forced his face against my stomach. He was still hiding… He still didn't know.

"Christine—No! No no nonono!" He was shaking his head against my stomach, and I could feel dampness gather there. My arms hung useless at my sides. I couldn't.. Comfort him. Not until he saw. Not until he knew.

A hand on his shoulder, I eased him back and his arms let me go. He would never hold me against my wishes. He looked shattered, long arms reaching towards me but unable to take hold as he settled on his haunches. I was so very drained. His colors were so powerful, so taxing, that I felt like I needed to sleep the next twenty years of my life away. I slumped back into the pillows of the couch.

Maybe I would only feel better when I was dead.

"...You can decide whether or not you can still profess any love for me after you look in a mirror." He looked like I'd just sent him to the gallows. "After you see what I have done to you," I added, still trying to comfort him despite everything.

Confusion painted him. Despite my body regaining its strength and youth, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. How much more could I take?

I didn't watch as he picked himself up. Didn't watch as he dragged himself into the bathroom.

A thief was what I had become. I had robbed from him what I imagined to be his deformity. I had robbed from myself the chance to prove that I could love him despite it.

I had loved him from the moment he'd appeared on my balcony. And I might never be able to prove it.

His voice shattered the semblance of peace in what I had started to wish could become our home.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"

I couldn't bear to look at him when he came charging back into the room. I was a coward, but I didn't think I would survive the look that was probably in his eyes. To feel his colors wash over me.

"What you asked of me when you saved me." My voice sounded dead to me. And perhaps I was that much closer to it. People could die of a broken heart, and I certainly felt like mine had. "'If you promise to sing for me' was your bargain to save me. You saved me. I sang for you. My voice healed you. That is why people wish to possess me."

His mouth dropped open, shock covering him. I watched as the lips opened and closed repeatedly, trying to comprehend, trying to form words.

"I know now… That's not what you meant. You didn't even know. You were never asking me for my… ability. How nice, knowing you simply wanted me with you." I smiled, but it was a crude remake of the easy and happy smiles he usually inspired. "I don't regret it. Helping you."

"Is.." His voice was quiet, like all the emotions from before had gone out of him. "That is the reason why you are always so.. tired. The reason why you were trapped in that place." A statement, more than a question. He had already come to the right conclusion.

I took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. No matter what I told him, he would blame himself. But I loved him too much to let him be the martyr. Heavens knew he was dramatic enough. Steeling myself, I finally looked up at him for the first time since he'd reentered, knowing the truth.

Shoulders drooping, eyes directed at my feet, hands convulsing at his side. He looked utterly defeated. He was the color of a raging ocean, despair, rolling off him in waves. My poor Erik.

"Come here," I beckoned, patting my lap. Like a spell had settled over him, he crossed the room with mechanical steps, lowering himself at my feet. He was just barely in reach, so I held my arms out and pulled his head to rest on my lap. His torso pressed against the side of my leg, arms slowly wrapping around my waist. His muscles were tense and coiled, ready to bolt. Running my fingers through the very short dark hairs that had sprouted on his head, I felt the tension start to die away from him. I opened my mouth to speak just as he let out a gentle sigh…

Once upon a time, in the magical countryside of Sweden, a single drop of sunshine fell from the heavens. From this drop grew a golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick, the injured. A family of healers came across this flower, and after learning of its abilities, it was given to the eldest son, who was very sick. The magic golden flower healed the boy—and bestowed him a wonderful gift. When he sang, he could impart a bit of that power, sharing the sun's gift with those who need it. The family rejoiced for their beloved son and brother became a ray of sunshine in an otherwise desolate time of famine and pain. Their family prospered and the first born always upheld the family duty… Helping hundreds...

"This is the story I was told," I murmured quietly, as if trying not to disturb the heavy mood of the room. Erik was very still, it was only by the sound of his breathing and the weight on my lap that I knew he was still there. "A fanciful tale that omitted the darker details."

"Aren't most stories thus?" Erik's voice was twinged with dark mirth. Usually when he spoke with that self deprecating tone, it was a reference to a history I didn't know. If only he would confide in me.

I decided to ignore his comment, continuing with the true story of my family's history.

"In truth, the first born was simply a means to an end." I spoke through clenched teeth, the truth still raw even after figuring all this out ages ago. "The first born is a cruel sacrifice for the family's happiness. They decided to use the flower to heal the sick son, and he and his progeny have been forced to pay it back. Every time we sing with the intent to heal, there is a price that we must pay. It is their duty.

"My duty is to be bred and die for my family."

"Not anymore," Erik hissed, and I could just see his shoulders raise with his hackles, the passionate animosity towards the very idea coating his aura.

"Maybe it would have been better if he had died."

Twin orbs of yellow fire ignited before me as his head snapped up, his arms around my middle tightening almost painfully. The strength in those arms—that I had felt multiple times and knew with a surety of—held me so gently despite the steel I knew his thin flesh covered. Like I was precious. Like I, and not my voice, mattered.

"Never say that, Christine." His voice was hard, unrelenting. "For you are the accumulation of all of those firstborns. This world has no light without you, my Christine."

"Yours, hmm?" I smirked tiredly, unable to stop myself from teasing him. "I remember you saying I couldn't love you."

"...You shouldn't have been able to. No angel would willingly sully herself with a demon."

My hands clapped around his face so quickly it let out a resounding clapping sound in the room, shocking Erik into silence. "You are not a demon," I declared, glaring at him. "You don't get to say that about the man I love."

The shock bleeds away to the sweetest color I had only seen hints of here and there. A blushing pink, gentle like the caress of a rose or the laughter of a child. Love. Affection. Devotion. My hands on his face brushed against his cheeks lovingly as I read the look in his eyes just as well as his emotion.

"Dearest, loveliest Christine," he murmured. "You are my savior."

I don't know when I fell asleep—I had gone from absently running my fingers through his fledgling hair to being tucked into my bed. And Erik was nowhere to be found.