Authors comment: Alright, quickly; thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Keep it coming!

On another note, the line in this chapter, "I'm sorry, I can't, don't hate me," is from one of the best shows…Sex and the City! I had to used it, but I don't own the show, or the line, or anything for that matter! Ok, on with story….

Chapt. 14

When Tom returned with the scissors, he handed them quickly to CJ and then backed up and looked awkwardly around the room. I eyed him from the window.

"I just wanted to…apologize to you," he said uncertainly to CJ, and she hardly let him finish before she cut in,

"That is very sweet, but I am still not going to sleep with you,"

"Damn it! Why not?" Tom seemed both amused and angry,

"I'm sorry, I can't, don't hate me," she said in her signature unaffected tone,

"Well, if you ever change your mind, just yell for me,"

"Good day Tom," CJ said with an unmistakable finality, and a slight flash of her bright eyes, and Tom left, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

"I told you Tom would bring you something if you asked," I said to her matter-of-factly,

"Yes, I had a feeling he would, but I still did not want to ask him,"

"What changed your mind?"

"I suppose we are going to be here for some time, and if we ever want anything other than bread, butter and water, this seems to be the only way to get it,"

I nodded and pushed my back off the wall behind me and came over to stand next to her, "So what exactly are the scissors for?"

"I need to cut my hair,"

I shook my head, "How menacing, no wonder you are an assassin," it seemed that even though she was a mercenary, she could not fight off that urge to maintain some sort of vanity

I watched as she raised the scissors to her hair, "How are you going to see to cut the back?"

"I just pull it over my shoulder and cut,"

"Won't it be uneven?"

"Maybe, but its too long, I have to do something; if I had not been in prison, I would have not let it get this long, it gets in the way,"

I stared at her; so maybe her reasons held more practicality than pure vanity. She raised her hand to a front lock of hair, however as she raised her arm, I saw her wince with pain and then drop her arm to her lap again,

"Shoulder still sore?" I asked her with a sigh; it was a shame she had been hurt and it was worse to be reminded of it,

"Yes," She muttered, prying the bandage away from the wound to peek at her shoulder,

"Here," I held out my hand, "Give me those scissors,"

She looked at me with a questioning smile, "Are you going to cut my hair?"

"Just give me the scissors,"

"What if I don't trust you?" She smiled,

"I think I can cut in a straight line," I said, taking the scissors from her,

"If you make me look stupid…" she began,

"Don't worry; you will look lovely for Monsieur Le Roy tomorrow,"

She shook her head, "I hate you sometimes," She said, thought I knew she was not being serious,

I took her pile of blond hair and let it all fall on her back. I shook my head; this was a very bazaar thing to be doing, but everything I had done since I had met this girl had been bazaar; so what was the point in stopping myself now?

Her hair had not been brushed in some time, and the tangles were going to make it difficult to cut. I set down the scissors and began to untangle her hair with my hands. It was not a gentle process, and CJ frequently flinched,

"That hurts!" she squealed as I yanked at her hair,

"Beauty is pain," I said in an amused voice; she could climb through windows, fight off attackers, but her hair still caused her discomfort,

"You are a pain," she muttered,

Her hair was a mess; a tangled, blond rat's nest, however it was a bit entertaining to watch her flinch every time I undid a snarl. In the end, it became apparent that I would not ever work out all of the knots in her thick blond hair; but it was possible to work most of the tangles down to the bottom of her hair where I could cut it off.

I picked up the scissors, "Now, don't do anything…weird," CJ said nervously; she really did not trust me with her hair,

"You want me to cut it just below your ears, correct?" I teasingly, opening the scissors and placing them close to her head,

"Erik!" She said in her most warning voice,

"What?"

"You know what,"

"Don't try to be humorous?"

"Exactly,"

I moved to actually cut her hair; she sat up straight on the end of the bed. It was a bit silly really, she was situated on the end of the bed with her back toward me; the reasoning being that this way her hair would not fall on the bed. Of course; the beds were already quite repulsive; so a bit of hair on them would make no difference really.

The scissors were a bit dull; but other than that there was no problem. I had worked on many artistic projects in the past; I had built things, painted things, engineered things; so cutting in a straight line was not a great challenge.

It was very strange for me to be cutting her hair. In the past, I had had very little contact with other people; especially with other women. It was true I had touched Christine; I had even kissed Christine, but I had been sure she would be the only woman ever to let me get that close. CJ had taken me by surprise.

After all of the knotted ends had been removed, her hair hung just below her shoulders; a considerably shorter style than what most woman of the time wore.

"How does it look?" CJ asked as she ran her hand through her blond locks,

"Your hair looks fine, but," I stared down at the pile of hair on the floor, "it looks like I killed a small sheep in here,"

CJ turned and looked down, laughing as she saw the pile. She got up from the bed and stretched her long legs, then she looked up at me; "Thanks for helping,"

"Not at all," I said; I still found it awkward when she thanked me. I lay back down on my bed. It was now growing dark outside and in the distance I could hear the faint rumble of thunder.

CJ lit a candle with the flints Dumas had given us our first night in the upstairs room. She sank down on her bed. She was looking at her shoulder and peeling away the bandage.

Sitting up I grabbed the candle and moved it closer to throw a better light on her. The wound was circled by a blue purple bruise from the pressure of the bullet entering her shoulder. Thankfully it did not look infected.

"Where can you move your arm without hurting your shoulder?" I asked her,

"It only hurts when I raise it up like this," she made to move her arm above her head, but I quickly grabbed her wrist,

"Don't actually do it, if it hurts, I just wanted you to tell me," I muttered sharply, then I realized I was still holding on to her wrist. I let go quickly.

CJ shrugged and lay down, "I will be fine," she said as she closed her eyes. I blew the candle out and lay down as well. I listened as another thunder clap rolled out in the distance.

"Storm tonight," CJ said with a yawn.

"Maybe, but it could hold off until tomorrow morning,"

"I suppose…" CJ's voice trailed off; it seemed she was already falling asleep.

I had far too much on my mind to fall asleep quickly. Tomorrow I would be returning to my old haunt; no pun intended. The house by the lake held quite a few bad memories. There was the Christine fiasco; then there was the added pain of reminding me of how I used to live.

Most of my life had been spent in as much solitude as I could possible achieve. I had wanted it that way; if no one was around me than no one could reject me. A lifetime with out acceptance had pushed me beyond bitter and into self loathing and despair. After leaving Persia, I had been so disgusted with myself; I had punished myself by filling my surroundings with things which reminded me of my mother; from her furniture to the baby doll I had tried to trick her into believing was me.

In the deep, all consuming glum beneath the opera I had truly begun to lose my mind. I had rigged barrels of gun powder to explode, destroying the opera, if Christine refused to stay with me. I had almost let the daroga die in the torture chamber, I had almost killed myself.

Now I felt a something I had not my whole life; I wanted to live. It was not the lusty, passionate love of life some young men felt, but there was a desire. I wanted to be with Christine. I wanted to change for her; to show her I was not a monster she should be afraid of, or a pitiful being she should pity. I wanted her to love me as much as I had loved her. I blinked, the way I had loved her? The way I did love her.

I sat still for a moment in the dark. The storm did not seem as though it was going to patiently wait until morning to burst; a sudden flash of lightening illuminated the room.

The light did not disturb CJ; she lay quietly on her side with her face toward me. I stared at her; I owed her a great deal. She was the first person who I had ever identified with. When I told her of my past; she did not pity me, nor was she terrified or disgusted. CJ understood me.

I, on the other hand, did not understand her at all. Why, when everyone else had always treated me as something to be feared, or shunned, or hated, why did she treat me as though I was any other man? I had threatened her angrily the first time I had met her; yet she had barely blinked an eye. She had helped me; she had treated me like a human being.

Another flash of lightning made temporary day in the room. I was still staring at CJ. Suddenly I thought back to Le Roy and how irritated it had made me when he had kissed her hand. I hated to admit it; but I had been jealous. Men like him could meet a beautiful woman like CJ and unabashedly take her hand and kiss it; and instead of being offended by his slick comments or put off by his lack of wit, she would blush and laugh because he was handsome. That was why I was jealous; beautiful people could be wicked, stupid, and vile, but they would still be loved.

I had to admit however that that was not the only reason I had been jealous. A part of me was drawn to CJ, in a way which frightened me, and I did not want any other man charming her.

Pushing all thoughts away, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.