This is a long one! I apologize, but I was ready to move this plot along a little faster and consolidated what I could. Hope this isn't too long! Enjoy!


Chapter 34: A Medicinal Moment.

"What's going on?" Christine asked, her brow furrowed as he set her down outside of his chamber door. They had remained silent as he carried her from the harem, the screams of the other women dying behind them quickly. Christine remembered the shocked eyes of the eunuchs as they burst through the door, both of them clearly unaware that the Angel of Death awaited on the other side. She expected Erik to retaliate, yell, or make some other demands. But instead, he remained unusually composed as he walked past them wordlessly. For just a moment, Christine thought she felt his grip tighten her leg and rib.

Christine didn't mind the silent walk. The silence gave her an opportunity to examine his face, something that had been eating away at her consciousness for some time. She happened to face the side that was always covered regardless of which mask he wore. If he had any abnormality, it had to be here, didn't it? As discreetly as possible, her eyes scanned every patch of skin around the edges of the mask, but saw nothing. No change in tone, no markings or malformation. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, aiming to look around the back corner of the mask, but his jolt at her touch caused her to sit upright. Christine looked at him questioningly, but his eyes remained focused ahead of him.

They remained like this until he set her down outside his chamber. As discretely as possible, Christine glanced around. They were alone, so why was he so reclusive?

Christine furrowed her brow. "Erik?" She whispered. Her hand lifted to tap his shoulder, but just as she finished whispering his name, the door swung open with a loud bang as it crashed against the stone wall. It caused her to jump, but Erik strolled in as if he was used to the noise. It created a pit of uneasiness in her stomach. Why did he ignore her as if he hadn't just carried her tightly throughout the palace?

"You must remain here, for your safety." Erik ordered as he gathered some papers from the table. It was almost relieving to hear him speak, though she wished he would acknowledge her. His eyes refused to look in her direction. Christine watched numbly, waiting for him to glance at her. Maybe then, he would answer her questions. Yet, he remained focused on the task at hand. "You may sleep in the bed again. No one will disturb you. Nadir will fetch for you in the morning."

Christine swallowed. "Where are you going?"

"I have work to do." He muttered, storming past her. It almost felt like a natural instinct to reach out for him, which is why she nearly gasped as he lurched away from her hand. It was like her touch was hot water that splashed against his bare skin.

"S-Sorry." She gasped. "What's wrong?"

She watched as his lips formed into a thin line before snarling downward. He looked down at her shoes, though his head was raised. "There is nothing wrong. I am just very busy. Excuse me."

His daring tone only encouraged her stand more boldly. For someone who claimed to detest lying, he surely was quite proficient in it. She refused to step aside. "You leap from my touch as if I have hurt you. Have I?"

"No."

"Then what have I done to earn such coldness from you?"

"You've done nothing wrong."

"Can you not explain why you have remained so silent?"

"I thought I explained that the Shah has many loyal followers in this palace who would gladly gossip their suspicions if they thought we were accomplices. You do realize how dangerous my bringing you here is?"

"Of course, but-"

"Then you do understand the source of my cold demeanour. Congratulations."

Erik attempted to move past her again, but Christine quickly stumbled back. He growled. "I have brought you here to keep you from the Shah's clutches. How is that ignoring you? Would you rather me leave you in the harem?"

Christine stumbled slightly at his continued outburst. His intensity easily chipped away at her resolve until she was nearly unable to look at him in the eye. "No, I-"

"Then I do not see the issue. I apologize that my attempts are not heroic enough for you."

"Heroic? What are you talking about? You're not making any sense!"

"Step aside!"

"Not until you look at me!"

Her voice cracked as she screamed out the words. Quickly, her fingers covered her mouth, ashamed of her outburst. A voice in the back of her head chided her. She should be grateful at all he had done, so why did she feel so angry? The silent air became suffocating, and Christine hated the echoing ring of her harsh words in her head. His eyes, which stared down at her feet, seemed to freeze before finally meeting hers. It was the first time he had looked at her this entire conversation.

"Are you satisfied?" He hissed.

Christine trembled at his piercing glare. She was not satisfied. She wanted more.

"I just want to talk." She pleaded, her voice softening.

"As I said, I am busy. Goodnight, mademoiselle Daae."

Erik stepped around her, reaching for the door handle. For just a split moment, time seemed to freeze. He had broken her defenses, but she refused to yield. Christine threw her body against the door, shutting it before he could step through. At first, they stared at each other, both shocked by her brash movements. Her eyes were drawn to his open lips, which slowly formed into a menacing scowl.

The last thing she wanted to do was anger him, but another night alone would tear her apart. She saw the pain in his heart and wanted nothing more than to console it. Slowly, her fingers stretched out to touch his arm; a calming gesture to keep him grounded. But he shrugged her off, slicing at her heart in the process.

She sighed in frustration. She had seen his violent outbursts before and wanted to avoid it at all cost. "Can you not stay, just for a short while?"

"You vixen!" He snapped. Christine squeaked as he threw the papers against the wall, storming towards the table. Dramatically, he collapsed in the seat. Christine's peaceful attempt was shattered by his outburst. She couldn't stop the bubbling sensation of fury that grew as he angrily gestured around the room.

"What is so important that you must act this childish? Hm?"

Christine scoffed. "I do not think that I am the one acting childish. I merely want a conversation. So much has happened and I am lost in the dark. Who is the Sultana? Why is she so interested in you?"

He chuckled darkly, interrupting her line of questions. "Jealous, mademoiselle?"

Christine felt her skin crawl. "I am not jealous, I am terrified."

"As you should be. You should be mortified. You are trapped in the clutches of the Angel of Death."

"Don't call yourself that."

"Why?"

Christine fidgeted uncomfortably. "I dislike it."

At first, Erik was silent, his glossy eyes merely gawking at her. It was as if she had pierced him with a spear, pinning him to his chair. She wished he would move, to show some sign of life. Unfortunately, her wish came true. Christine winced as he released a loud burst of laughter. His head rolled back as his mocking chuckle set her emotions aflame.

"I do!" Christine defended. "It paints a horrible picture of you."

"It paints a very accurate picture of me."

"No. The Shah forces you to do those things. You are not an angel of death."

Erik scoffed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His forward approach caused her to lean back.

"The Shah does not control my every action. In fact, everything I did a few days ago was based on my own decisions. My own, monstrous decisions."

Christine was taken aback. "What decisions?"

"Do you not remember? Was it so traumatic that you have pushed it from your mind?" He approached her, raising his hands to the side of her head. She pushed them away.

"Don't do that." She snapped. He had done this to her before, trapping her in between his arms. The little determination she held would spiral out of control if he suffocated her with his presence like that. She blushed at her own girlish weaknesses.

"Why, do you dislike it?" He teased cruelly. "I am sure you disliked my performance in the harem, but probably not as much as you dislike the knowledge that I enjoyed it."

Her skin crawled at his revelation. The flame in her cheeks were clearly apparent, as his lips twisted into a victorious grin. Everything he said was a puzzle, one that she could never understand. This front he displayed, one of a lustful madman was all an act. She could tell, because the rim of his eyelids were swelling with tears. Was it that much easier to hurt himself than be honest with her?

"You are doing this to scare me. Stop it."

"I am showing you who I really am. Do you dislike it?"

"Stop!"

"Forget your dislike, I deserve your hatred!"

"I don't hate you!"

"Then you are a fool!" He turned from her, storming off to the back of the room. He paced around, his hands combing through his hair as he glared at her. "Lying to yourself will not change the fact I am worthy of your hatred. Saving you from the harem did not have to require my assault. I touched you, I stained you with my disgusting desire. It was wrong and you should hate me for it! I should have sent you away, but my selfishness has thrown you into the fire of hell! Why can't you just hate me like everyone else?"

"STOP!" Christine screamed. Her hands clasped around her ears. This was wrong-so wrong. His words were like a knife to her skin and it hurt to hear them. Yes, his actions in the harem were unwarranted, but the situation called for it. He had to take the form of a monster in order to survive, but Christine could see how badly it tore him apart. He pretended to be something so horrible that, over time, he fell victim to his own performance.

"I hate this." She cried. She glanced at Erik, who remained motionless in front of her. It was her time to pounce. Before she could change her mind, she stormed over to him, grabbing him by his collar. She pushed him back until he stumbled back into his chair. His arms gripped onto her shoulders as she shook him with each sentence. "I hate that you think so lowly of yourself! You have gone through so much to save me and my friends and you never give yourself credit. You forget that you saved my friends from being poisoned, killed, raped, and tortured. It was you! You did all these things! I hate that you can't be honest with yourself."

Erik quickly grew out of his shock. He freed himself from her grip and leapt from his chair. He sauntered around her, like an animal cornered and prepared to fight.

"Tell me more." He hissed. "Tell me everything you hate about me."

"I hate lying. I hate that I have to pretend you are a monster."

"You hate speaking the truth?"

"It isn't the truth!"

He threw his hands into the air. "Well you know what I hate?"

"Do tell me. I would love to know what is going on behind that thick skull of yours!"

"I hate this!" He roared, leaping forward. His hands gripped so tightly at her shoulders that he nearly lifted her off the ground. "I hate the way you touch me when I am angry! I hate that you look at me with such affection!"

"I hate that you avoid me!"

"I hate your persistence!"

"I hate that you're angry at me when I've done nothing wrong!"

"I hate that I care about you!"

Christine gasped. His voice cracked, as if the strength in his body had been ripped out by some unknown force. The once violent animal had fallen to a damaged pup before her. Christine remained frozen in front of him, staring at his downward eyes. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe entirely.

"I hate that I want to touch you too." He whispered, tears choking his voice. "I hate that I want to abandon all self control around you. I hate that I need to be with you, but when I do, I hurt you. I hate that I can't breathe around you but I suffocate when you leave. I hate that I can't get your voice out of my head. But most of all, I hate that I cannot hate you, no matter how hard I try. Because maybe if I did, I would never hurt you again."

Christine blinked back her tears as fingers traced the outside of her cheek, not daring to touch her skin. "You are the only friend I have ever had. I hate that what I do, one day, may make you hate me too."

Christine leaned into his hand, reveling in the softness of his gloved fingers. "I don't hate you." She cried. Her bottom lip trembled. "In truth...Erik, I-"

He hushed her gently as his lone finger rested on her lips. "Don't." He begged. "Saying it will change nothing."

Christine shook her head, her lips sealing together to hold in her tears. The words burned in her mouth, eager to escape into the air. But she swallowed them down. He was right, finishing her sentence would change nothing. After a choked whimper, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as his arms hesitantly wrapped around her waist. She almost said it, that burning confession that lurked in the darkness of her mind. It terrified her, it angered her, it hurt her more than anything she could ever imagine. But it was the undeniable truth. They remained like this for so long that her body shivered from the cold when he gently pushed himself away.

"In the morning, I will answer all of your questions. I promise. But I think it would be best if we talked with clear heads."

Christine nodded numbly. "Will you stay?"

Erik nodded wordlessly. Slowly, they walked into the bedroom. Christine didn't realize she was holding his hand until she felt a slight tug back as she climbed into the bed. She looked up at him, her heart racing. What was she thinking? Why couldn't she let go?

"Erik, stay-"

He leaned forward, gently kissing the top of her forehead to silence her. His thin lips felt like the warmth of a summer's day. "Goodnight, Christine." He whispered. Quickly he turned and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind him. Tears snaked down her cheeks as she curled into his bed. The gentle scent that lingered on his pillow stilled her tears.

"I don't hate you." She whispered into the night. "In truth, Erik, I love you."


Erik POV:

Erik barely slept, though for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he was sleeping or dreaming. He had returned to the chair, collapsing in it as his knees gave way. It was so easy to remain hidden behind his mask, locking his heart away from the world. Yet she always unlocked it. It ached every time, but he craved it nonetheless.

Erik did not expect her to retaliate the way she did. In fact, he was hoping she would just grow to despise him more. Maybe then, it would be easier to let her go.

He remained frozen like this for hours. Despite his best efforts, she still believed in him. Her words haunted him.

"I don't hate you. In truth, Erik, I-"

He audibly hissed. His mind wanted to finish her sentence. He wanted to cling to the small sliver of hope that he knew what she wanted to say. But he refused to believe it. She was probably going to say that she cared about him too, like a brother or a dear friend. Though it would be an honour, it wasn't what he wanted to hear at the time. He had decided to drop it, knowing that whatever she chose to say, it would not delay the fact that they only had a few days left together before she would be gone forever.

Yet, his decision didn't stop him from entering the room many hours later. He didn't have a plan, or any motivation for his actions. He just needed to be near her. She looked like an angel when she slept. Her soft ringlets cascaded around her like a halo. Her pink lips contrasted deliciously against her creamy skin. He hovered over her like a ghost, unable to touch her but insistent in haunting her.

He had watched her sleep before, as a teenager. He was always blown away by her beauty, but it never felt like this before. Then, he truly felt as though he was in the presence of some holy being. It was like looking at art, a feeling of admiration and wonder consuming him. He admired her then, but now he craved her. She had nearly pulled him into the bed with her. For a moment, he was willing to collapse in her arms. The sharp, biting memory of what he had done last time he let go of his inhibition caused him to withdraw. He would never dishonor her like that again.

His mind danced down memory lane as he scolded himself for ever leaving her. If he hadn't, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe they would be happy if he remained a recluse in the shadows, writing music below the opera house for her to one day perform. He could continue to be the Phantom and whisk her away into the night to his underground lair. Wouldn't that be a better alternative to this?

Even though she had been the one to bring him to the Opera house, Madame Giry was the one that encouraged him to leave the Populaire. They rarely talked face to face, but many years ago, she had found him sneaking around the corridors. There was an unspoken understanding between them. He knew she was aware that he was the Phantom of the Opera, but nonetheless she remained silent. In fact, she must have been the only one who knew the truth as she was the only one who knew he existed. Because of this, Erik felt obligated to follow her when she motioned him to the back stage door.

She clearly seemed shocked by his appearance, politely asking what he had been up to the past couple years. Erik had been short with her, clearly disgruntled that she played dumb. After she got over her initial shock, she engaged in some small talk, but shocked him when she asked about his future.

"What future?" He grumbled.

"You must be what, 20 by now? You cannot lurk in the belly of the Populaire forever."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

She scowled. "You are a young man. You need to find a profession, some accountability, and maybe even a wife. Preferably one who will put some meat on your bones."

Erik frowned. He had never paid much attention to his own well-being but had noticed how angular and bony his hands had become when playing the piano.

"I don't need anyone."

"Yes. You do. Despite what you may think, you are human. Humans are social creatures. You need others."

"I have an...other."

She raised an eyebrow. "A significant other?"

He nearly puked. Christine was beautiful, that he could not deny. But she was a young girl sent from the heavens, not some romantic fantasy.

Besides, who could ever love you? He had thought.

"A friend." He corrected.

She still seemed equally as surprised. "I hope you're treating your friend well."

He scoffed. "As well as someone who has never had a friend can."

Madame Giry sighed. "You remind me of Meg sometimes; so temperamental. Listen to me. Having a friend is more than just enjoying someone's presence. It's an ebb and a pull, a give and a take. To take their time and their support, you must return it in full. Not because you have to, but because you want to."

Erik didn't reply. He gave Christine music, and she gave him music. That must have been friendship.

"Your friend doesn't know who you are, does she?"

Erik turned to her, hating the knowing smile that formed on her lips.

"Make a name for yourself. Then she can know the real you. I have a friend in Italy who is looking for an apprentice. You've shown aptitude for architecture before. I encourage you to consider his mentorship."

It had taken many months of internal struggle, but Erik had eventually agreed to go. How magnificent it would be, he had thought, to greet Christine in person. Would she still smile at him when she saw him like she did when she heard his voice?

For two years, he worked under a man named Giovanni. Erik was initially mortified to meet this man, but was shocked when he welcomed him into his home. A home full of light, laughter, books, even furniture. It was difficult for Erik to adjust to, but the thought of his angel pushed him forward. Giovanni taught him many things, not only about architecture but about what it meant to be a man. He learned about society and how to fit in as well as what it meant to be a husband. Giovanni was the first person to break apart his shell, though only just. The old, stout man had a way with words that Erik could not resist. Though he was always grateful for the experience, a part of him knew he wouldn't be in Persia if he had declined Madame Giry's request. If he had, Luciana would be alive. He never would have met Nadir as he fled home. He never would have been so close to making such a terrible mistake.

Erik shook his head. Thinking of the past would not change anything.

At some point in the night, he had returned to the chaise. He tried to close his eyes, but every creak and footstep caused him to jolt upwards. Though he would be surprised if the Sultana or the Shah came looking for Christine in his quarters, he refused to be caught off guard. After a gruntled sigh, he forced himself to study his designs. He could sleep when he was dead.

Erik became so engrossed in his work that he barely heard Nadir knock on the door. The older man entered, a tray of food in his hand.

"Oh. I am surprised to see you here."

Erik nearly broke his pencil as Nadir grinned mischievously. "I decided to remain here, in my study, in case she needed protection."

"Of course." Nadir chuckled. "I will let you wake her then, as I prepare the tea."

Erik felt his stomach flip. That old bastard was worse than Meg Giry when it came to gossip. "Now that you are here, I will be leaving." He quickly gathered his supplies, rolling up parchments. "I have to deliver these plans for renovating the mosque. Those imbeciles will require an extraordinary amount of guidance if they are to pull this off. I may not return until late."

"Can I come with you?"

The two men tensed, both slowly turning to face Christine's sleepy smile. She quietly stepped out of the bedroom, somehow able to sneak up on the two trained soldiers.

"Ah, good morning, mademoiselle." Nadir smiled, his nervous cracking of his knuckles the only indication he was caught off guard. "Tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you. Good morning to you both." Erik did his best to stare evenly at her. Yet, when her eyes lingered on his own, Erik couldn't stop the sudden spike in his heart rate. He looked away, focusing on anything but the stunning glow of her skin in the morning.

"I do not know if that would be wise. You are not supposed to be in my company unless I require your services."

Nadir shrugged as he poured the hot liquid into a small teacup. "After all we have been through, I am sure this would be the easiest of tasks."

Erik glared at the Daroga. Yes, he would admit that he would enjoy Christine's company. However, if she came along then they would have to discuss last night and possibly more. His stomach twisted at the thought of being so vulnerable yet again.

"Do you think so?" Christine beamed. Nadir agreed, winking at Erik as he returned to the tray. For a moment, his heart ceased to beat. How could he deny her when she smiled at him so genuinely? For just a moment, he was grateful that he left to study under Giovanni. All these years of pain had lead up to his dream moment, when she would smile at him knowing who he was.

It was the greatest gift he would ever receive.


Christine POV:

The carriage jostled against the dirt paths of the city. The last time she was here, she was on display in a cage. Now, the people ignored the carriage as it meandered through the busy street. She glanced over at Erik, who had remained silent throughout most of the morning.

It was the perfect opportunity to break the silence. "The last time we came through here, people were giving us flowers. Why?"

Erik sported his white, half mask today. She enjoyed looking at his jawline as he spoke. It was so jarring that she could see its every movement as he spoke. "Joining the harem is a great honour. They must have known that a cage full of young women would most likely contain at least one new member. The flowers are a sign of good fortune."

Christine shuddered. "I do not understand why it is considered such a great honour."

"It is about more than just desire. The women of the Shah are highly educated and often influential members of politics. It is the most recognition a woman can receive in this country, and it does not have to require selling their bodies to earn it."

Christine pondered his words. It didn't seem logical to hold many lovers in one room. There would be fighting, even hostility between them. Yet, she barely saw anyone laying around waiting top be bedded. IN fact, most of the day the Harem was busy and active. Many danced, some read or talked in languages she had never heard before. The four of them had tried to remain discrete during their short time there. But the more she thought about it, the more sound Erik's reasoning seemed. There were plenty of women in the harem, some of them much older than her or Fazia. Not all of them could have been lovers.

"Lately, however, this has changed. Our current Shah emptied most of the harem after his wife and son were exiled. He grows more detached from society with every new day."

Christine straightened, her brows furrowing at his last sentence. "Why would he exile his wife and son?"

Erik interlocked his fingers. Christine worried her questions were growing to be too intrusive or bothersome, but he nearly chuckled at her question. She dared to believe that he seemed to be enjoying their conversation. "They believed he was growing to be cruel. The once peaceful mentality that ruled this kingdom had grown more militaristic in the Shah's conquest for glory. He wanted to put Persia on the map as a world superpower and was not afraid to use whatever means necessary. His son openly defied him in court and chose exile over an apology. The two of them never got along, but I believe he lost a part of himself when his wife decided to support their son instead of him."

"That must have been a difficult decision for her." She muttered. For a moment, the Shah almost seemed like a human being. How tormented he must feel after being abandoned by his wife and child.

Erik seemed to read her mind. "Do not pity him. They had begged him for years to abandon his greed and fury. He ignored them and continued to shed bloodshed. He was a fool for losing sight of something precious."

Christine smiled slightly, glancing down at her feet. Knowing that a wife and child was something precious to him released a swarm of butterflies around her stomach. "Maybe he will realize what he is missing and change."

Erik scoffed. "I admire your faith in humanity, though I think your judgement is ill-placed."

Christine chuckled. "I think you may be right."

They continued to talk, discussing the differences in culture in Persia as to Europe. She had so many questions, Erik quick to answer them. It was a breath of fresh air to finally have a decent conversation that did not revolve around their death. She almost wished the carriage ride continue forever. But her dreams were cut short as they finally arrived.

Christine clung to her scarf. nadir had fetched one for her, a thin white scarf that hid her long curls and draped down her back. She fidgeted with the corner as the driver opened the carriage door. Erik exited first, hesitantly turning back towards her and offering his hand. Christine took it warmly.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

He offered his arm, which she took as they walked towards the mosque. Christine was glad he was there to guide her, as she spent the entire walk with her mouth agape and her head craned back to take in the view. The building was elaborate, a wide palace of marble and stone, decorated with around arches and golden shavings. Most of the art and tile was a soft blue, one that gleamed against the white marble. The center of the mosque was a large golden dome that glistened in the sunlight. Christine looked over at Erik. The corner of his lip rose ever so slightly as he watched her admire the mosque.

"This is where you work?"

"It is." Was his curt reply.

"It is beautiful. I have never seen anything so colourful."

Erik chuckled. "Wait until you see inside."

Christine wasn't sure how any inner design could beat the outdoor beauty of the mosque. She looked at the many foreign plants that paired well against the gold and blue design. Everywhere she looked, it was as if she saw something new and magnificent. They entered through a large archway, the elaborate design and colour scheme continuing in the main foyer. A couple of men ran up towards them, both bowing before them. Christine stumbled to curtsey awkwardly, unsure if that was what she as supposed to do. Erik remained motionless.

He spoke to the men in Persian, the foreign tongue effortlessly escaping his lips. Christine watched in admiration. It sounded nothing like French, though she could almost decipher the frustration in his tone. Clearly, he was not happy with the work they were performing.

"Come. I am afraid I must educate these men on how to complete their jobs. I must apologize. You have to stay with me, though we will be speaking in Persian and I will have little time to give you a tour."

Christine waved her hand. "No need to apologize. I am grateful just to join you. Please, do not let me interfere with your work."

Erik shook his head, gently kissing her knuckles. "Your presence is a most welcomed interruption."

A fire in her heart sizzled at his smooth words. She noticed the apparent shock on the workers' faces as their pupils dilated dramatically. Christine giggled.

"Be nice to them."

"No promises."

Erik lead her through the many rooms of the Mosque, though they mainly stayed in the main area. It was a large, open space with an altar towards the front. Though there were no pews or chairs, Christine assumed this was the main place of worship. As Erik grumbled and battled with the supervisors, Christine waltzed around the room, admiring every tapestry, archway, and splash of colour. The world of the palace completely abandoned her mind as she enjoyed the gentle breeze against her cheeks. She felt transported to an entire new world, like the one her father used to tell her about in his stories of the east. Though she did not know the meaning for the markings on the walls, she imagined they told daring stories of the Islam faith.

Every once and a while, she would glance back at Erik. Sometimes their eyes would meet and they would both quickly look away. Other times, she would catch him preoccupied and just watch him work. He stood differently here. In the palace, it seemed as though he was hunched over. It was as if a giant weight constantly pulled him down. But here, in this gorgeous room, he stood like a free man completely comfortable in his environment.

Christine had scanned the room a few times before she joined Erik. At first, the others seemed uneased by her presence, but Erik's growl caused them to continue their conversation. She tried to make sense of the foreign marks and drawings on the many maps before her, but she barely understood most of what it was.

"The dome needs to be repaired. As it is, it could crumble at the slightest tremour."

"What a terrible loss that would be."

"Indeed. Come, there is something you should see."

He lead her through the mosque, walking briskly past the many workers that carried supplies and equipment. Christine watched it all with wonder, eager to soak in as much information as she could form the little she saw. They walked up a flight of stairs, the staircase itself growing narrow and curved.

"Why are the walls leaning?" She giggled as she awkwardly climbed the steps.

Erik was not far behind her. His voice was an enticing low timbre against her ear. It caused her hairs to stand on end. "We are within the dome, but do not worry, we are merely passing through."

Inside the dome? Her mind raced at the thought. Soon the halls returned to normal and Erik escorted her to a small side room. It's walls and furniture were draped in old cloth, as if to protect it from the dust and stale air.

But Christine barely noticed the room around her. There was a sound, a rhythmic noise that captured her undivided attention. It was music.

She stepped forward, slowly at first, towards a small balcony. It was the source of the strange instrument that compelled her forward. But the closer she approached the balcony, she began to hear the sound of voices and drums.

She practically sprinted the last couple of steps towards the balcony. He leaned over, gasping at the sight below. There were rows of people, all of them dressed in vibrant robes and tunics as they danced down the road. Many of the townspeople surrounded them on the pavement, clapping and swaying as the performers danced in the center.

But it was the music Christine was drawn to. She could not identify the instrument, but her heart ached as she heard the choir of voices serenading her from down below. She turned to Erik, a bright smile plastered on her face.

"What is this?" She asked.

Erik remained behind her, leaning against the marble archway to the balcony. His body naturally blended in with the shadow. "Yearly celebrations. There always seems to be a holiday in this city."

"I have never heard that instrument before."

"It is called a dutar. A two stringed lute."

"And what is the dance they are doing?"

"It is called a Bojnordi. You can tell as they are snapping their fingers."

Christine stared at him, her hand hesitantly reaching out for his. "Why don't you join me?"

Erik scoffed. "I do not think the people of this city wish to see the Angel of Death peering down on them. I can enjoy the festival from here."

"I meant in a dance."

Erik remained motionless, the uncovered portion of his face just as still as the nearby porcelain. It unnerved her. She had just asked for a dance, was that so crude? Considering everything else they had been through, a dance was by far the least invasive.

"I-um." He stumbled, coughing to regain his composure. "I do not dance."

Christine chuckled. She rather enjoyed this power she had over him. "Everyone dances."

I hate the way you touch me when I am angry! I hate that you look at me with such affection!

Dancing wasn't out of anger, she told herself. It would be a good touch, a kind bond. She sauntered over to him, gently taking his hands and pulling him into the room. His arms grew heavy, but he followed numbly nonetheless. Christine smiled. He didn't flinch when she placed one of his hands on her waist. She didn't push her away. They slowly began to twirl around the room. At first, Christine clearly took the lead with Erik stumbling to keep up. But soon, the music below them changed to something slower and they found their rhythm.

"See. You can dance." Christine smiled victoriously.

"You vixen." He muttered under his breath. This time, they both chuckled.

"You have asked so many questions, yet none about our current predicament." Christine sighed, their dancing turning into a slow waddling. In a way, she had been avoiding the promised conversation. It was such a lovely day, why ruin it by talking about the hopelessness of their situation?

"I'm afraid I've rather enjoyed our time together."

Erik rose an eyebrow. "We can save it for another time."

Christine shook her head. "No. We should discuss it."

Erik nodded. He slowed down, but Christine took the lead again and continued the dance. At least this way, they didn't have to look into each others eyes. She had three questions, each of them equally as important to be answered. She bit her lip as she contemplated where to start. All three of them could have potentially difficult answers.

"What does the Sultana want with us?"

Erik sighed, letting go of her hip momentarily to spin her. "She is obsessed with torture and suffering. Unfortunately, that means we have been in close contact for many years. She has done her best to repay me with the only way she understands- through lovers and gold. But I have denied them all. I think that I have, in turn, offended her. She is merely curious and somewhat disgruntled that I claimed a prize without her aid."

"She seems dangerous."

"Extremely. She cannot be trusted, no matter how innocent she may seem. Do not fall for her tricks. Is there anything else you wish to know?"

Christine realized he was uneasy about the Sultana. It was clearly a topic he did not wish to discuss in detail. Christine respected his internal wishes. In all honesty, she would rather not talk about that vile woman either. She continued on with her second question. "What happened to the rest of the crew?"

Erik answered immediately, his tone level and words seemingly rehearsed. "They are back in the dungeon, though they are all together. Sophia and Ignacio are frail, but they will survive. The Shah is planning on using all of for ransom, so they are currently unharmed."

He seemed to have known everything she was going to ask, doing his best to summarize it. She thought over his words before. "But what if no one pays for them?"

"That won't matter." Erik whispered. He glanced around the room before turning back to her. "I have no intention of letting you or your friends rot here in Persia."

Christine stopped, her eyes wide. "Do you mean..."

"Yes. Nadir and I have been organizing the Shah's defeat for years now. We are ready to enact this plan and return you to Persia in the process."

Christine gasped in delight. She knew that this wouldn't be the end! She stopped the dancing and gripped both of his hands, a bright smile erupting on her lips. "And you will be free too?"

Her words were more like a plea. How could she leave him behind in this madness? She thought about her silent confession the night before. They were more than friends, more than a maestro and student. After all they had been through, there was no way she would leave him behind. But a loud bang interrupted his response. Christine screamed as the walls of the room began to shake. With lightning speed, Erik swung her around, protectively standing in front of her. Dust sprinkled on top of them as an eruption of cries deafened them.

"What was that?" Christine asked as the crowds below began to scream. Erik dashed to the balcony, peering over the edge. Christine ran to join him, gasping at the sight.

Not far in the distance, a tower of smoke spewed from a blazing building. People ran down the streets to escape it, the old wooden structure quickly setting ablaze. Christine watched in horror as the black smoke painted over the sky.

"Damn him." Erik muttered under his breath. "Christine, forgive me. But I am afraid I must deal with this mess." He grabbed her arm, guiding her out of the room. "You must return to the harem. I will fetch for you later and we can continue our conversation."

Her heart seized. Her last question was the most intrusive one yet, but she refused to bottle it up inside her. But how could she deny that others needed Erik's help more than she did in the moment? Whatever had happened, Erik seemed determined to see to the end of it. Before she knew it, a group of soldiers approached them. Erik barked orders at them in Persian. He turned to her, halting in his tracks.

"Why do you have to go?"

"I am a member of the court who is incredibly close. I must find this culprit."

Christine's hand trembled. Someone had caused that fire and the thought of Erik hurdling towards them caused her stomach to flip.

"Promise you will be careful." Christine begged, gripping onto his gloved hand.

He brought her knuckles to his lips. "Anything for you, mon ange."


I wonder if you can guess her last question... I have done my best to hint at it the past couple chapters. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Phantomgirl24: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter! They still can't seem to admit they love each other. *sighs as if I have no control over the situation*. It definitely is going to be a time! Thank you for your review!

Lucyole: Haha Nadir would get more of a reaction from a brickwall...or he would just explode. No in-between lol. Thank you for the cookies for inspiration!