Chapter four- We aren't like the others

The trip back to the surface was relatively uneventful. Aside from a run-in with the rat catcher,

The trek was almost boring. When they arrived at the Opera house stables, night had fallen and the early April air was cooler than usual. Erik removed Sita's blindfold and told her to wait there and not to wander off. He had a feeling this girl had a knack for getting into trouble.

He glanced over at her while he saddled Cesar. The light of the full moon danced in her hair as she swayed a bit to something she was humming. God, she's so beautiful.

Shaking himself, Erik mentally told himself that the feelings this odd girl was bringing out in him was merely an appreciation of beauty, nothing more. He knew from experience that beauty disguised ugliness underneath.

Sita was startled from her trance like dance by the gentle clopping of horses hooves. Erik was leading a white horse out of the stables, the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. Suddenly shy in front of the magnificent creature, Sita timidly raised a hand to stroke his fine, sliver mane. "He's beautiful", she whispered in awe.

A snake of jealousy slithered its way through Erik's veins as he watched the girl's reverence of the horse. He found himself wishing it were his hair that Sita was stroking, not the damned horse. "He's Cesar," Erik, replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Sita must have noticed his sullenness, for she fixed him with the most curious look, obvious oblivious to the feelings she elicited in him. Desperate to deter her from her curiosity, for he remembered her telling him it was great, she inquired, "That song you were humming, what was it.?"

"Oh, just a little ditty Mother Dela taught me," she said absentmindedly, still focused on the horse.

"Sing it for me."

Sita froze in mid stroke, in disbelief. He wanted her to sing for him? Panic gripped her and she replied, in a wavering voice, "I cannot. You are a musician and I am an untrained gypsy who sings around campfires. I am afraid that my singing would pain your ears and bleed them."

"I believe I am to be the judge of that," Erik replied sternly, slightly irritated with her now. "Now sing."

"But, I-"

"Sing."

The harsh, commanding tone in Erik's voice unnerved Sita slightly. Seeing as he was going to be unmovable on the subject, Sita sighed and resigned herself to the upcoming humiliation.

Tell me a story,

Fairy of the moon.

Entreat me to some of your knowledge,

Fairy of the moon.

I am merely a lonely wanderer,

Who has seem to much.

A nameless vagabond,

Longing to escape for a while.

Dance with me,

Fairy of moon.

Teach me out of my clumsy ways,

Fairy of the moon.

I seek simple comfort in your magic,

The pleasure of the unexplained.

Spin your silk cocoon around me,

And guide and guard me for eternity.

Laugh with me,

Fairy of the moon.

Tell me a story,

Fairy of the moon.

Dance with me,

Fairy of the moon.

Sita let her last note die, and met silence. In the distance she could hear two tom cats in a heavy spat. She looked up at Erik, cautiously, not knowing how he would receive her song. She was most surprised when she saw the awe and surprise in Erik's eyes. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. he liked my singing?

Erik didn't know what to say. He was dumbfounded, completely bewildered and utterly amazed. This common gypsy girl had the voice of, well, he didn't know what. Certainly not an angel; there was too much pain, longing and lack of innocence in her voice. Her voice was too dark and mysterious to be that of an angel. She was something greater than an angel. She was a muse, Euterpe incarnated. Never had he heard anything as beautiful as her voice. She made Christine, who had the fruits of years of his instruction, seem like a common club singer. "That, that was…" Erik couldn't find the right words to enlighten her to what he thought. He had to say something or she would surly think she sounded atrocious. "That was amazing," he said at last. "Never have I heard anything like your voice."

Sita's eyes widened at his words. He's he jesting! Surly I can't have been that good. But one look in his eyes told her he was being truthful. "Thank you, monsieur," she replied shyly, lowering her eyes and shuffling her feet awkwardly.

The girl's modesty of her gift touched Erik. Normally, people gifted with a talent for song were poisoned by ego. Carlotta and Christine were prime examples and this girl could outshine them any day. Lifting her chin so she was staring into his eyes, he said, "Never have I heard anything as beautiful as your voice. I find it very hard to believe that you have had no training." Sita opened her mouth to protest this, but Erik quickly cut her off. "I say this because your voice is so good, so very untampered with. It is natural, the most beautiful sound in the world. I want you to promise me something Sita."

She looked at him warily, eyes, narrowed slightly. "Promise you what," she said, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"Promise me that you will never again doubt your talents in song or insult them. You are far too gifted for that."

Tears of happiness and appreciation welled in her eyes, as she smiled at him. "I promise." He smiled back at her and to Sita, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen. He reached up a hand a wiped her tears away, then cupping her cheek. Sita then realized how close in proximity she and Erik were. Why, their chests were nearly touching! Old habits and memories came back to Sita and she immediately pulled away and looked away, but not quick enough to miss the hurt in Erik's eyes.

Of course she pulls away, Erik thought bitterly. She's a beautiful girl who probably has many admirers. Beauty doesn't want to be touched by Beast. an awkward silence fell upon the pair as they determinedly kept from making eye contact. After what seemed like centuries, Erik said, "Come, we must be off. The night is deepening and I'd rather not bring you back home too late. I know from experience how suspicious gypsies are."

He said the last sentence with utter poison and contempt, provoking Sita's fiery temper. "Yes, but we are correct in our suspicions," she retorted. How dare he talk of my people in such a manner. What is this experience he talks of? He hasn't the slightest inkling as to what my people are like.

While she was fuming, Erik climbed up onto Cesar. He broke Sita out of whatever metal tirade she was engaged in by grabbing her around the waist and swinging her up in front of him on Cesar. He gave her a minute to adjust herself, noting with amusement that she sat astride, giving Erik full view of her skinny legs. Looking away quickly, he clucked once at Cesar, and the pair rode off through the deserted streets of Paris.

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Erik slowed Cesar to a halt as they approached the Gypsy camp half a mile outside of Paris. It was not too far from the road and close to the city, but secluded enough for the gypsies to have their privacy. How alike we are, Erik thought before he could stop himself. He swung off of Cesar and held out a hand for Sita, but it was too late. She had already jumped down off the horse in a most unladylike fashion, landing with an awkward thump. It was actually rather endearing.

"Well, thank you monsieur," Sita said awkwardly, not sure what to do now. She knew Erik wasn't too fond of gypsies and wouldn't be too comfortable coming into the camp. He must have had a horrible run in with another caravan. Well, Sita couldn't change whatever happened to him in the past, but she had to make him see that all gypsies weren't the same. Her caravan was one of the more benevolent groups, one of the few that did not deserve the poor reputation gypsies have. Suddenly filled with purpose, Sita held out a hand to Erik, saying, "Come."

Erik hesitated, and took a few steps back. He could not go into that camp, that gypsy camp. For the first time in many years, Erik feared being put back in a cage. Sita must have noticed his discomfort, for she smiled warmly and said, "Please come, my parents will want to meet you." After a moment Erik took her hand.

The journey to Sita's tent wasn't as bad as Erik expected. True, there were some stares, but they were inquisitive stares, wondering who the strange man with Sita was. Some of the campers rebuked Sita on the lateness of her return and thanked Erik for bringing her back. He was, well, taken back at the friendliness and utter warmth this place radiated. It was nothing like the other caravan that had made his life a living hell.

When they came to her tent, a little girl who looked to be no more than six ran headlong into Sita, wrapping her skinny arms around Sita's legs.

"Sita, you're back . I thought you had been captured by the stone gargoyles and were taken to Tartarus and that I would never see you again and I wouldn't know what happens to Laka!" the child buried her head in Sita's thigh, sobbing. Erik watched this scene with a rather amused eye.

"Ngana, I'm not going anywhere," Sita said laughing. "And you will know what happens to Laka, I promise." The little girl, Ngana apparently, seemed to be appeased. But the older gypsy woman who next came out of the tent was not.

"Sita, were on earth have you been?" she shouted angrily. "Your father is at this moment looking for you, along with five other men and Kartik. Do you have any idea how worried we were about you, young lady you are sixteen years old and still you have not learned how to behave like an adult. Do you how dangerous it is for a young girl to be out on her own?" the woman stopped her angry tirade for a moment to catch her breath. And in that moment, she noticed Erik standing there. "And who is this," she said glaring at him suspiciously, as if she thought he had harmed Sita in any way. Was he to be plagued by people always thinking he was a monster?

"I'm sorry I was out late Mama. I ran into some trouble, and this man, Monsieur Erik, helped me out of it," Sita said to the woman, apparently her mother. The woman's face softened as the suspicion went out of it. In a completely different tone, she said "Forgive me Monsieur for my misgivings about you, its just that Sita has a knack for getting into trouble and a worry about her and…"

Erik cut the woman off, his feelings for her changing now that he saw her suspicions were only motherly concern. "No apologies are necessary; I understand how this might look to you. I assure you I never hurt your daughter, only insured that she wasn't lynched by a mob.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Sita glared at him, Ngana, tightened her grip on her sister and the woman gasped saying, "What! Sita," she looked at her daughter for conformation.

Sita sighed, knowing that she would have to explain this to mother. "Yes, a boy went into spasms in the market today and I was accused of witching him. Erik prevented the mob from finding me." She wouldn't tell her mother where they went or how Erik took her there. She wouldn't give out secrets that weren't hers to give. "You know, I think I should show Erik his way out of the camp so he can go home, alright?"

Erik started to say that he didn't need to be shown out but Sita's foot stomping on his own put an end to that. She didn't even wait for a reply, just took him by the elbow and marched him out of the camp to where Cesar was tied.

"Thank you again for, well, saving me. I truly owe you my life," Sita said, gazing at him with those big, beautiful green eyes, the moon illuminating her face. So beautiful. Erik resisted the temptation to stroke her soft cheek. Instead he took her hand and placed a feather light kiss on top of it. In the darkness, Erik could see a blush crawling onto Sita's face. He smiled and said, "Any time."

Sita found herself gazing deep into Erik's beautiful grey eyes, entranced by them. She did not notice that Erik had pulled a bag from behind him until he placed it in her hand. Confused, she opened it and found…apples. Then she remembered, she told him that she was buying apples when she was attacked. Could this man possibly charm her more or be more kind?

Sita was about to say thank you when she noticed that he had climbed back onto his horse and was about to ride off. She remembered she was still wearing his cloak and handed it back to him saying, "We aren't like the others."

Erik knew she meant her gypsy camp. And she was right. The gypsies here were kind and caring; her mother only had qualms about him because of her love for her daughter. He smiled gently and replied, "I know." Without another word, he rode off, but he heard Sita call after him saying, "Can I ever see you again?"