"I don't know where I'll go now" She confided. "Your always welcome to stay here, as long as you like" He replied. "Do you think the Opera would really hire me?" Elisabeth asked. "There will be auditions, for ballet and chorus; however, top priority will be given to those with a reputation and some experience." He wondered if he could persuade the future managers to take a chance with her, she was wonderful; and he wanted to see how far his power might extend once the Opera House was finished and running. She moved her head slightly, and the sensation sent tremors through Erik's body. Here was a young woman, so beautiful, and she did not draw back from him. Rather, she appeared quite comfortable in his arms. "Sing for me" He asked. Her lovely voice rang out with enthusiasm, and Erik closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sound. "Do you dance?" He questioned. "I've been trained in formal ball dances, and a little ballet." She answered. "Let us dance then" He smiled as he led her to the center of the room, and they moved together with precision and grace.

She fit his body perfectly, slightly smaller and able to rest her head on his shoulder. He tried to hide his growing desire, but with every turn and move her body would excite him. He held her loosely, not wanting her to feel his ravenous passion. "I believe that is enough dancing for tonight my dear" He told her. "Erik, is there anything you can not do?" She teased. He smiled as he led her to a corner of his living room where he kept his painting supplies. "I'm a mediocre painter, and my handwriting looks like a drunk five year old" He confessed. She looked down at the landscapes he'd done. "These are amazing, how can you say your mediocre?" She chided. "Who is the Indian lady?" She had noticed his painting of the Kaunum. "A very disturbed and troubled woman. I entertained her court in Persia." Elisabeth looked at him. "You told me you were a political assassin?" She said.

"I was many things, I dug myself a hole so deep I couldn't crawl out." He looked down and sighed. "Yet here you are, so you were able to crawl out somehow." She took his hand and he stepped back. He traced her fingers with his thumb and told her, "I had a friend who helped me out, at the risk of his own life. I often wonder if he is ok, or even still alive." She held his cold hand in her warm one, "Perhaps after this war is over we can travel back, and find him." "Perhaps" He agreed. He led her back to the chair and she sat beside him on the floor. He told her a story, and she began to drift off. Erik led her to her room and said goodnight. He looked at her soft blue eyes and kissed her cheek. That small token of affection meant more than anything in his miserable life, and he went to bed content.

The next morning he woke up to the smell of something delicious. Elisabeth was busy cooking a quiche, and he kissed her on the cheek. What caused him to do that he didn't know, it had just come over him. They talked about Paris before the war, and she suggested they take a small walk outside. Erik hid Elisabeth beneath his cloak as they walked in the sun on the sidewalk. Beggars stood in the streets, and there were absolutely no mice or small animals wondering around. It was a grim time. They returned to the lair.