"Damn you!

You little prying Pandora!

You little demon!

Is this what you wanted to see!" – Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Monster

When Nasrin awoke, the lair was deathly silent but for the rhythmic dripping of water. There wasn't a hint of the magical melody that had taken wing the previous night. Something was different, and she wasn't sure if it was boded well or not. An eerie feeling tingled up her spine and her stomach twisted into a knot.

"Erik?" she whispered, stepping out of shadow and into the candlelight. She saw him sitting at his organ, his head bowed and his mane of brown hair disheveled. "Erik, are you all right?" she asked again hesitantly.

He looked up at her ruefully, his eyes submerged in the most profound sorrow. "Hello, my little Fire Rose."

Nasrin walked slowly over to him, her copper skin aglow in the light. Her gilded top that ended just under her breasts was dirty from sleeping on the grimy floor. When she reached his side, she pressed his head against the sloping curve of her waist. His eyes closed and he sighed.

"What happened?" she asked him softly.

"She saw my face! My hideous, terrible face! I had to bring her back!" He slammed on his organ keys, a haunting chord echoing his despair into every crevice of the catacombs. She held him to her affectionately, her gaze soft and pitying.

"The side you keep under that mask? How did she see it?" Nasrin touched the porcelain barrier.

"She did what you doing now, and as soon as I got comfortable, she ripped it off and saw me, the monster in darkness. Now, she will never love me. For my face will be an imprint in her mind forever." He pressed against her waist more, her flesh warm against his cold skin.

"Unrequited love is a painful thing," was all she said.

"What would you know of it?"

"I too lost someone important to me because of my deformity."

Erik pulled away and looked Nasrin up and down. Her curves were ample, her body slender and her face unblemished. "Perhaps you are confused as to what deformity means. Your body is . . ." He looked at her incredulously. "Perfect."

"From what you can see. I hide it, just like you. Only, my malformation is much easier to cover than yours." She ran her fingers over his mask, smiling. "Regardless of whether Christine leaves forever or not, I will still be here."

Erik sneered. "A lot of good you do me. You are the most frustrating girl I have ever met."

"Perhaps you need some frustration in your life; just as I need some pomposity in mine," she cooed slyly.

He looked up at her. "Do you ever run out of things to say?"

"Not when you give me so much to talk about." She looked fondly down at him, her eyes lost behind her dark, thick lashes. "And I know that, no matter what the right side of your face looks like, I will stand by you, always with some snide remark to make."

"Your assuring comment soothes me," he said sardonically.

She smiled and laughed. Her eyes softened in good humor and she sat down next to him on his organ bench. Her hands found their proper positions on the keys and she began to play. Each wrong note she played made Erik cringe.

In order to better her playing, he stood behind her and rested his head on the bare part of her shoulder. She shivered. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his hand over hers, guiding her slim fingers to the proper keys. In no time, she had formed a melody of her very own, playing it over and over until it was perfected.

She turned to him and smiled, wary of the lessening space between their lips. In the last moment before their lips would join, Erik retreated, releasing her from his grip and taking a seat beside her. He cleared his throat, pretending not to see the dejected look on Nasrin's face.

"Have you ever played before?" Erik asked.

"Once, but it was a long time ago. My father, when I lived at home, tried to teach me to play. But that time has been dead for a while." She looked ruefully down at the stained yellow keys.

"What do you mean, when you lived at home?" Erik asked.

"I am the youngest child in my family. I have eight older brothers, all of which my mother holds in the highest favor. When I was born, I was a disappointment to my family. After all, who wants a useless girl in the family? I was cast out of my home when I was seven years old, because no man offered to take my hand in marriage.

"I was picked up by a group of dancers who taught me their art of singing with your body. I became a dancer, and slowly, I began to get better and better. Then, a few years later, I was proclaimed the best. At the age of fourteen I earned the nickname Fire Rose, because I would send my male audience into a burning trance; that, and because of the undeniable fact that no one has ever been able to control me.

"Finally, the daroga's brother, Khortdad, proposed to me. My family, by obligation, paid the dowry. Then, he was killed under mysterious circumstances and the daroga took me here to you." Nasrin looked up at him through sullen eyes.

Erik gazed over at her with sympathy, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Little Fire Rose, you have earned your namesake."

Nasrin smiled weakly, her shoulders tensed slightly at his touch. "Why? Do I send you into a burning trance?" Her voice was soft.

"Not quite. I haven't seen you dance."

"And you probably won't, seeing as though this is an opera house, and there is no music from my homeland here." Nasrin touched Erik's mask before walking to the other side of the room. "Though if I did, I'll bet you would forget all about Christine." She turned to face him, her waterfall of hair falling in loose ringlets down her body.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, looking up and down her body that seemed to call for his.

"It would be nice if I had some one . . . anyone . . . who loved me." She turned away once more, staring out into darkness.

"Nasrin . . ." Erik stood up and walked over to her. He gently put his hands on her shoulders, shivering at the warmth of her flesh.

"What? You have your Angel of Music; why would you have pity for a little girl like me?" Nasrin turned her head to the side, looking over her shoulder at Erik, whose face was close to hers.

"You said you would remain here with me despite my face. I don't pity you; I admire you. I wouldn't stay with me for any amount of money or wealth. How much did the Persian pay you to come to me?"

"Nothing, I had no choice."

"And now that you're here?" Erik's face was moving closer to hers, his fingers running through her hair.

"I . . . no!" She pushed Erik away, shaking her head. "I . . . I'm sorry. I just can't . . . I don't want you to see it." She looked frantic, her eyes darting madly. "I know I can see the man behind the monster, but can you see the bride behind the beast?"

"If you can bear to look at my face, I will not say a word about whatever is wrong with you." Erik reached for her.

Nasrin shook her head. "I can't show you. It's so ugly!" She began to sob, falling on her knees and covering her mouth. Tears fell from her eyes, pattering on the stone floor.

"Nasrin, stop it. Crying doesn't help you or me. Look at me." She lowered her head. "Look at me!" He forced her chin up towards him. She blinked out more tears. "Look at me."

"What?"

"Stop crying, Fire Rose. You're wailing is rather irritating."

Her expression turned black with hate and her hand flew across the side of his face. She then pushed him into the underground lake. He emerged from the water, gasping and sputtering.

"What was that for?" he wheezed as he dragged his waterlogged body out of the lake.

"Just because we're wed doesn't mean I have to like you, you heartless demon," Nasrin spat. "I weep, for I know I can never be like your angel. Just like you can never be like the Vicomte de Chagny. It feels the same way." She immediately covered her mouth, realizing the extent of what she had just revealed to him.

Erik froze. He looked up at Nasrin, eyes wide. "How do you know of him?"

"The daroga told me of him on my way here. He told me of all things concerning you, even your life story." Nasrin walked over to him, her eyes sparkling with guile. She realized he wouldn't bring up what she had admitted about herself. "No part of your life is a mystery to me."

"Such a relief to know that," Erik spat sarcastically, wringing out his cloak. He looked up at her through his grimy soaked hair.

"Don't move, Erik. You still have some slime on your mask." Nasrin walked up to him and dried his pure white mask with her sleeve. His eyes darted madly from her to her hands. For once, he saw her exotic eyes consumed by a soft and gentle gaze, as if she was wiping dirt from a small child after he had been splashing in the mud.

"Thank you, little Fire Rose," he muttered, putting his hand over hers. She froze. Her eyes locked with his. They were mysterious, clear blue enigmas, windows to an unseen soul, and she felt herself drawing closer to him.

His other hand emerged from his side and touched her face that was streaked with dry tears. A very peculiar urge overtook him and he moved to press his lips against the top of her head. She didn't move away and closed her eyes as she felt him drawing closer. But as his lips began to brush her flesh she pulled herself away quickly, not realizing she had a firm grip on his mask.

When she regained her composure, she saw Erik on his knees, clutching the side of his face and roaring in anger. His hair covered his hand, which shielded Nasrin from the terrible sight.

"Erik, it's all right! I told you I would remain no matter what!" Nasrin tried to make herself heard over the uproar Erik was causing.

"Give me the mask! Give it to me!" He reached out his hand desperately.

"Erik, just let me see you. Please."

"No, not now! Just give me the mask!" He grabbed for it again, but she pulled it just out of his reach. She scampered back, still holding the porcelain mask. Her eyes flashed as he ran to get her, upsetting candelabras as he stumbled towards her.

Nasrin weaved daintily between the candles, always staying just beyond Erik's grasp. As he looked at her face, he saw a smile on her face. It was a game to her; she knew that in order for him to get the mask, he would need both of his hands.

He roared and leaped at her, both his arms outstretched. He caught her around the waist and her legs buckled. They crashed to the ground and Erik held her down, face scarlet with anger. Nasrin looked shocked at his sudden violent assault. He turned her face to his angrily.

"There!" he roared. "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it! Isn't it!"

Nasrin looked up at his face, her eyes searching the expanse of his face. They wandered from his sagging eye to the red blotchy skin. His hairline was erratic, and his long hair could barely cover the terrible ridges of his malformed scalp.

"Yes it is." Her fingers ran along his head, caressing the parts of his face that no one but him had ever touched. His eyes widened and he froze.

"This . . . can't be what you wanted. I . . . was certain you'd . . . flee from me."

"Well, I am physically incapable of fleeing anywhere, seeing as though you have me pinned to the floor. But even if you weren't keeping me from leaving . . . Erik, your face doesn't frighten me in the slightest. I've seen much worse." She looked away before looking back at him again, her hair covering the left side of her face. "I've seen a man, weeks dead, and have had to identify him."

"Khortdad?"

Nasrin nodded. "Yes."

"How did he die?"

Nasrin gently pushed him off of her and looked at him through grave eyes. "He was hanged . . . hanged by a Punjab lasso."

Ooooh, the plot thickens! Do I have your attention now? –Shade

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers!

Maska: Don't worry about missing the update. I'm glad you've liked what you've read.

Mysweetphantom: I'm glad you like my story. It's always good to know that people that have been looking for a good story say they find it in yours. It means a lot! And I'm pleased that you like Nasrin. (I hope it isn't like bragging for me to say that I like her too.)

Videociraptor: YAY! I heart you Vi! I am glad you like the chappy, and yes, it bothered me that the manikin and the random voices popped up so I needed a reason. Thus: enter Nasrin. Thanks for your yayness.

Maidenhair: I am pleased you liked it. Hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment.

Charo: Thank you for taking the time to review! I am honored to have you call me "The Shade of good writing". (bows) And I am glad you like it. But don't die! Here is your update!

DragonheartRAB: I'm glad you like it! Hope to hear from you in the future.

Bumble0Bee: Sorry for the misunderstanding! I feel really bad about that. And yes, Nasrin is a bit of a bitch in the beginning, but like I said, you might feel sorry for her later. Hope you continue with it even after my faux pas!