A/N: Okay, I don't think I can put off the crossing of paths of our favorite fun-couple any longer. I tried, but I don't think I can wait any more. A mess o' thanks to Chibi Hime and Night Owl for their advice (sorta anyway, lol), you guys are the only reviews I got! **sigh**, I shouldn't expect reviews for every chapter, I didn't review every one when all I did was browse, and I shouldn't expect it from all of you. But you guys, at least those who haven't written, don't understand what a FAN-FREAKIN'- TASTIC feeling it is to get good reviews. If everyone in the world could have, like, five minutes of that feeling, the world would be a better place. Here we go.



So I started working alongside Crawford in the library. I wasn't ridiculously surprised to see that Crawford understood my need to visit Heaven. He even set aside a time for me to do some cleaning there: after lunch to two o'clock. During that time, nobody could ask me to do anything else. I was beginning to feel a real kinship with the elderly butler, being that Dad wasn't exactly a model father figure. While dusting shelves and polishing the hardwood, I recounted tales from my festival days, as well as shared a few of my folk songs, my voice ringing up to the ceiling, and even confessed my sadness about Dad. He soaked all this information up like a new sponge, laughing at my stories and being silently supportive during my sometimes-raging monologues about everything from the death of my mother to a stubborn stain in the kitchen.

Obviously, I began to learn my way around the library itself, despite my illiteracy (A/N: Go me! I spelled it right on the first try!). I memorized the shelves by what color the book was on the end of the bottom shelf. Fortunately they were all different colors. Sometimes, while cleaning the windows, I'd have an Ivan-sighting. I'd spot him carrying bags of grain to the animals, or working some dirt out of a horses hoof. I'd wave, and he'd nod, never saying anything.



One day I decided it was time to ask for his help with Operation: Rose Garden. My time in the library was had just ended, so I was feeling blissful and able. I squared my shoulders and strode out to the stables. The stables themselves were pretty average, two wooden buildings with feeding troughs and places for the animals to sleep. Also a fenced-off chicken coop and pigsty.

After searching for a moment, I found him refilling the trough for the chickens with grain.

"Ivan?" I said, hoping I wouldn't startle him. He didn't even move for a moment, until I was just about to call to him again. By then he'd finished refilling the trough. He set down the bag and looked me straight in the eyes, just as he had in the carriage yard. Once again, I felt my breathing go shallow, like drowning.

"Yes?"

I took a few gulps of air, all the capability instilled in me from the library had deserted me, "I was wondering," I looked away to try and compose myself. This just made him impatient.

"Was there something you wanted, Sasha? I've got a sick pig in the sty that I have to see to." He hopped over the fence of the chicken coop and quickly started making his way to the pigsty. I jogged after him and didn't catch up until he'd stopped by the door that led into the shed attached to the sty. He stopped and froze me in my tracks again with his eyes. Uh oh, I had to get this out before I couldn't speak again.

"IwaswonderingifyouwouldhelpmecleartheweedsinthecourtyardsoIcanstartanewrose garden." (A/N: That was hard to type.)

"Do you need my help now?"

"Not if you're busy."

"How about I help you tomorrow morning, this pig's in somewhat bad shape and needs attention for the rest of the day."

"Okay." I turned and left the stables. Sweet Jesus is he hard to talk to! But at least I'd gotten my answer.



Night had fallen, and I was helping Svetlana scour the dishes from dinner. The only way to describe working with Svetlana is that it's probably as close to being in the army as one can get without enlisting. The woman made less small talk than Ivan. My work in the kitchen was probably the exact opposite of my work in the library. When I left there I felt relaxed, happy, and was always smiling broadly, when I left the kitchen I felt hot, tired, and annoyed.

She wouldn't even let me crack a window to battle the oppressive heat. I mused about possible reasons why: she was from southern Italy and it made her less homesick if the kitchen was three degrees away from the fiery Inferno, or maybe she felt it was healthy for food to be cooked right on the table, not in an oven. I entertained these thoughts while drying and storing the immense pots she used. Crawford popped his head into the kitchen, wincing at the blast of heat.

"Sasha? Could you come here a minute?" I bolted from the kitchen, leaving a pot's top spinning on the countertop.

I sucked in cool, sweet air in the hall before asking what Crawford wanted.

"I'd like you to fetch a certain book for me, if that's all right?" he said. Oh God, he'd forgotten.

"Crawford, you know I can't read. How'm I gonna get a book for you if it won't even do me any good to know what it's called?" Crawford didn't answer right away; he produced a piece of paper that had something scribbled on it.

"Just look at this, it has the title on it, all you have to do is look for a title that looks like this. I know it's in the blue bookcase, possibly third shelf from the bottom. If you can't find it, that's all right, I can get it in the morning." Oh great, to make my stay in the kitchen complete I will now go to my favorite place to do something I know I can't do! At least I'm going alone, so no one else can observe my hopeless stupidity as I wonder around looking for a book whose name I can't even say!

"Okay, Crawford. But don't get your hopes up." I turned and began my journey through the dark castle to the library.

"Once you find the book," Crawford called after me, "Leave it in the servants' quarters! My bed is the second on the right side!"



I walked the halls of the castle a little more warily. I'd never been down to the library at night, and it was very dark. Dad and my cleaning of the castle had progressed nearly to the library, but not all the way. As I neared my destination, I found the darkness so cold and haunting that I took off my apron and wrapped it around my shoulders for warmth. Every so often there'd be small candelabras whose light traveled about a foot and a half from their origin. I decided a foot and a half of light was better than nothing, so I snagged one off the wall and resumed my mission.

I sighed in relief when I'd finally made it to the library, and, holding the candelabra away from the wooden door, pushed my way into the room. My stomach churned as I took in the sight of the library at night. Moonlight poured through the cathedral windows, illuminating everything with it's backwards sunlight. Again, along the walls, small candelabras created orange circles of light. However, there were also standing candelabras next to all the armchairs, for late-night reading I supposed. I padded to the blue bookcase, which had the moon shining directly into it. That's lucky, I thought, only half believing myself. I looked at Crawford's note and sighed, not making heads or tails of the scribbles on it. This is going to be soooo much harder than Crawford said, I whined in my head. Knock it off and just do it, you gigantic wuss, my bossy mind-voice countered. I sighed and again scrutinized the note. Okay, here we go, I thought, an up-and-down line with another side-to-side line over it, gotcha. And another line with a hump coming out of it. Now an almost circle but an opening. Another line goes across it. Greeeeaaat. I scanned the third shelf for a book with anything like that at the beginning. I counted twenty-five books with that exact thing at the beginning. Oh, for Christ's sakes, my mind cried.

Just then I heard a noise, something big. My head snapped up from its deliberations over the note. Oh God, what should I do?! Should I call out, ask who's there? Yeah, sure, great defense, genius, scoffed the bossy mind- voice. How 'bout, it continued, you tie yourself up and hop over to them too, just to save them the trouble? Okay, fine, snapped my other voice, YOU come up with something! I crept to the end of the bookshelf, peeking around the corner to where the noise had come from. It had sounded like somebody shifting in a seat. Ivan, come for a bit of light reading, my mind suggested, but the thought was thrown out almost immediately, since when had I seen Ivan inside, let alone the library! The master's inner sanctum, to say the least! Well, you don't know what he does at night, it debated. That was true, but this didn't sound like a boy shifting, it sounded like a beast shifting. Oh God, the thought struck me with a great force, what if it's the MASTER come for a bit of light reading! Well, another voice said solidly, then I guess I'll finally meet him. Oh, to be as sure of myself as my mind thought I was! I again looked around the corner, the thought of the master had sent my head back into hiding behind the bookcase. It was time to be brave, but it was so hard with all the darkness and frightening folk songs that ran around my head from the village about the beast lord.

My mind became a completely blank abyss at the actual sight of the master, the man, oops, creature, that had toyed with my nightmares and still fascinated me since Crawford first mentioned him. By the way, I had had little experience with beasts. Sometimes, while traveling through the smaller villages, we'd see a giant or dragon roaming the hills, or spot a pixie flitting around the bushes, but not a flat-out, no frills beast. He looked all right to me, which was the mind-erasing part. He was lounging in one of the chairs, legs spread out comfortably, head supported by a clawed hand, reading a book. He wore a simple, white shirt with the arms cut off, his arms looked long and strong, the arm not on his head draped across that of the chair. He wore no shoes, and his pants were simple, cut-offs whose tatters hung by his knees. His legs were long and sinewy. His feet were more paws, with very dangerous-looking claws that I guessed were retractable. His fur was a deep orange-gold, and covered his whole body. His head was only slightly larger than a human's, I'd guess he was about six and a half feet tall. He had a brown-black mane, and a mouth that, well, I couldn't decide if it was more lion-like or human-like. I wondered how sharp his teeth were. His hand on his head shadowed his eyes. I smiled at the sight of a lion's tail that slowly drifted back and forth between his legs.

Suddenly his nose twitched, and he was staring right at me, his hackles rose showing sharp white teeth that glinted in the candlelight. My jaw dropped and my heart jumped when the combination of candle and moonlight illuminated his eyes. Wow, they were amazing. Fiery amber, the pupils flashing an incandescent green that I'd seen in cats' eyes at night. Some people felt that the green was a sure sign of possession by the Devil, but I thought it was the most beautiful color, besides this blue-tinged amber. Slowly, the master got up, and I felt my pulse pump at the sight of him upright. I had been wrong, he was easily seven feet tall, and his arms and legs were all muscle, not an ounce of fat on 'em. His hackles dropped, and his body relaxed, his brow creased as he took a look at me. This gave him a very human look of general curiosity and confusion. I felt myself drawn out the rest of the way from behind the bookcase, my heart popping off so strongly, I thought it'd blow right outta me.

"What are you doing awake now?" his voice was a rumble of thunder, pure and simple.

SPEAK, damn you! Don't clam up! "Crawford asked for a book." I was surprised to hear my own voice. I sounded shell-shocked, but at least it was something. He cocked his head in confusion. I felt a smile creep upon my lips despite myself. It was such a boyish gesture, that cock of the head.

"Crawford told me you couldn't read." Hmph, so Crawford and the master had been having a conversation or two about yours truly? His brow furrowed deeper, "What's so funny?" he rumbled defensively. The smile dropped off my face. Oh, so we're going to be a cranky master, are we? My own brow creased in annoyance.

"If you must know, I've never seen a grown man cock his head like that," I could feel he was about to protest my statement that he was a man, but I kept talking, "It was a very boyish and endearing thing to do. I don't know why Crawford sent me on this errand, and to be honest, I'm having a mess of trouble with it due to the aforementioned fact that I'm illiterate." Where was I getting all this? Suddenly I'd become as haughtily talkative as one of my former bosses wives at a dinner party.

He studied me for a moment, both our brows continuing in their furrowed state. If this was a staring contest, I was game. The silence continued with neither of us blinking. Then he growled, "I can help, if you'd like." He still hadn't blinked, but I took the statement as an admission of his defeat.

I smiled and replied, "Absolutely. That'd be very kind of you, master." His nose twitched at the title.

"I've never enjoyed being called master."

"Well, what do you want me to call you?"

"I suppose," he replied, the growl not far from his voice, "Beast will do fine." I pursed my lips.

"Beast? That will not do fine. I'm not calling anyone 'Beast.' How demeaning is that?" I couldn't believe my courage. I felt more comfortable in his presence every second, and couldn't understand why.

"You will do as I say!" he barked. I felt a spark of sadness well up inside. There it was, the enforcement of rank. He's the boss, I'm the help, and I will do as he says. My eyes narrowed, and I dropped into the elaborate curtsey taught to me by Lady Grottenbaum.

"Yes, Beast." I turned and retreated back to the bookcase where Crawford's book hopefully resided. Beast, ugh, I hated to think of him that way, followed me.

"Where is it?" he rumbled behind me. I could almost hear the apology in his voice, but it may have just been the ever-present growl in every word he spoke.

"Crawford said third row from the bottom. Here," I handed him the note, "he told me to look for the title. But I can't make heads or tails of that thing."

"Well, that's not surprising." I could see Crawford's dry wit had worn off on him. Was that a crack about my illiteracy? I sincerely hoped not, I wanted to like this guy, "Crawford's handwriting may as well be Chinese calligraphy, I can barely read it. But, wait a moment." He took the candelabra from my hand, and walked sideways down the shelf, nearly having to double over to peer at the titles on the spines of the books. He was making his return trip to me when he stopped and plucked a small, brown book out of the shelf, carefully, so as not to scratch the cover with his claws. He must have to do that for every page of every book he reads, I thought. He walked back to me, handing me the book, "The Flight of the Masters, yeah, I think that's it. It's one of Crawford's favorites." I looked at the cover of the book sadly, the symbols on it meant so little to me. I was suddenly cranky.

"Okay," I said more sharply than I'd wanted, "thanks for the help, I'll make sure Crawford gets this, good night." I held the book to my chest, took the candelabra, and began to walk to the door. But I nearly dropped to the floor when I felt a very heavy, warm hand on my shoulder. I turned slowly, and the hand didn't leave.

"Do you want to learn to read?" Beast said quietly, his amber eyes soft.

"Yes, I do, very much." I wanted to be able to take advantage of the library, with all my heart. I knew what was in books: stories. I loved stories, like in my songs. But I only knew so many songs, and even those were fading in my memory.

"Do you want me to teach you to read?" My eyes widened. This kindness, this compassion, had been suspiciously absent from the villagers' stories and songs. All they ranted about was horrifying looks and a heart of stone, not to mention an appetite for human flesh. But Beast's drop dead gorgeous eyes held no hunger, that was for damn sure.

"Okay." ABSOLUTELY, was what I wanted to shout to the ceiling of this magical place.

"You can meet me here at night, I wouldn't want me to interfere when they need you." That brought me down a bit, remembering that there was a world outside Beast's eyes. One that involved a catatonic father, and, of course, paid servitude. I found myself hating that place. I didn't want to leave where I was now, I could see my reflection in Beast's eyes.

"You're right."

"Okay." His hand left my shoulder, exposing it again to the cold. I'd forgotten it was cold in here. I wanted his hand back, to keep me warm, to protect me. Ugh, my head murmured in disgust, get over yourself. Time to go, servant girl. Stop bothering the master.

"Okay." I replied more to the commanding voice in my head than to the master, I mean Beast.

"Good night, Sasha." Why was my head dizzy, all he said was my name, for God's sakes! He disappeared into the darkness outside my foot and a half of light.

"Good night, Beast." I disappeared out the door and eventually into the servant's quarters, where I left Crawford's book on his bed and climbed into my own. Dreams of amber eyes with myself in them floated in my sleep.



A/N: Happy? Beast and Sasha met. That was a nice chapter, if I do say so myself. I hope all you who didn't review the last one are still reading and get to enjoy this one. I still wanna know, do I have a chapter from Beast's p.o.v or not? See you guys, review w/ advice if you feel the urge! ^^