Shade: IMPORTANT! Any lyrics not made by Andrew Lloyd Webber in this story are copyright to me! I don't want to keep saying in later chapters that I'm copyrighting my lyrics. No stealing any lyrics copyright to me. Thanks!

"Close your eyes

For your eyes will only tell the truth . . .

And the truth

Isn't want you want to see . . .

In the dark it is easy to pretend

That the truth is what it ought to be . . ." –The Music of the Night

Chapter 5: An Inconspicuous Deformity

"A Punjab lasso? When?" Erik asked, immediately interested.

"Eight months ago yesterday."

"You are so certain of the date?"

"Yes, it was a terrible, terrible day." Nasrin shook her head, two crystal tears blooming from her eyes.

"Did you love him?" he inquired gently.

Nasrin shook her head again. "No, he wanted to marry me because I am a young virgin girl. I was untouched, and as I said, my dancing was rather alluring. I couldn't love him, though. He was too cold and too dry of a soul for me. He had no spark in him of vigor, of life. I would have killed myself eventually from boredom." She twirled a lock of her hair between her slender fingers.

"But he loved you, that's why you would have married him?" Erik conjectured.

"He didn't love me; he wanted me for my flesh, and I had no other choice."

"I see."

"And now I'm married to a man who is as damned as me, such a sense of humor fate possesses."

"Damned as you? What do you mean? You say you have a deformity, yet I see none." Erik surveyed her closely, looking for any type of concealing fabric or makeup that could cover up a distortion as terrible as Nasrin made it sound.

Nasrin bit her lip. "Unfortunately, it is fair that you see it, though I wish not to show you."

Erik looked somberly at her. "Then don't. We have an eternity together." He said the last sentence with a hint of remorse.

She grimaced at the tone in his voice. "All right then. What are we going to do now? Oh, I know. I'll get you something to dry off with; you're still soaked." Nasrin stood up and walked towards her bag.

"I must write some notes to some members of my opera. Some issues must be immediately addressed." He stood up, walked over to his desk and picked up some blank pieces of parchment and envelopes. He took a brief moment to move the melting seal wax over the waning candle.

Nasrin walked over to Erik with a crimson shawl in her arms. She watched him write his notes, her head next to his. He felt the shawl drape over his shoulders.

He looked up at her before continuing. Her face was right next to his, her large eyes magnified by how close she was. His heartbeat began to quicken. Their breaths entangled in the air and she smiled. As he moved in to diminish the space between their lips, she pulled away.

"Forgive me, Erik. But I don't want you to be close to me when there is so much you don't know about me, and so much love you have for another." She walked away from him and moved towards his organ, playing around on the keys again.

He smiled weakly at her and began writing his notes with his quill. Erik soon found himself unconsciously humming the tune she played. As he finished the letters, he placed them in a pile. When the last note had been written and sealed, he turned to Nasrin who was absorbed in the music, her eyes closed.

"Fire Rose? What are you doing?" he asked her. But she didn't respond. She was playing the song Erik had sang to Christine the night before, but new words came from her lips.

"Midnight blackens

Shrouding us in shadow.

Music plays

And trills as far as night goes . . "

Erik stood up and walked over to her, enthralled. He sat down next to her, watching her every movement.

"Feeling is believing

Alluring yet deceiving

The melody that soothes the harshest plight . . ."

During the short pause in the melody, she turned to him, eyes aglow with the sound of the song.

"Play once more the Music of the Night."

When she finished, she smiled at him, eyebrows raised. "Well? What did you think? Not as good as Christine, I know, but for a first time."

Erik smiled and kissed her cheek gently. "Not bad, Fire Rose. You have a wonderful way with words, though your voice . . . could use work."

She wiped away the remains of his kiss and smiled. "I know I am no singer, but I guess that makes Christine inferior to me in dancing. It's only fair."

"I haven't seen you dance, so I cannot judge that," Erik said weakly.

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to. That was just something I said to make myself feel better about my compromising situation. Pay no heed."

"I am going to deliver these letters now. I could use another pair of hands. Would you care to join me?" Erik extended his hand. Nasrin looked first at his hand, then at him.

"All right. I'm sure I should be getting to know the corridors of the opera since I will be living here." She placed her hand in his, her eyes sparkling with a bright smile. "Just let me get some things."

"What things?" Erik asked hazily.

"Some things that will help your mystique around here." She took from her bag a long black cloak that she pulled over herself. Then, she pulled out a small white mask, identical to Erik's, and put it over her face experimentally. "See? I can be in one place, and you in another. If people see us, we can truly deceive them."

"Very clever, little rose. Let's go." He took her hand again, waiting a moment for her to take off the mask and pocket it.

He guided her to the boat, his eyes never leaving her. He sat her down in the gondola, the same place where Christine had sat before. Erik pushed off with the oar, guiding the small boat through the underground lake.

Nasrin noticed that when she was in Erik's presence, the labyrinth seemed much more magical and enigmatic. All the candles were lit around her and there were no cobwebs on the walls, no rats, no darkness. Everything was dimly lit, a sensual waterway that aroused passion and filled Nasrin with a warm, tingling sensation. Her chest burst with song as the unstoppable torrent of emotion flooded her veins, overcoming the blood and becoming her life force.

She sang a loud, wailing note, a tear falling from her eyes. Here, she was in the presence of angels.

Erik stopped rowing and looked down quizzically at Nasrin, a smile at his lips. He knew that he had complete control over her at the moment. He could make her do anything he desired. He smiled, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Sing!" he commanded in his most spectral voice. If he couldn't have his Angel of Music to control, he would at least have his Fire Rose.

Nasrin's voice rose and she stood up in the boat, slightly rocking it as she moved suddenly. Her veins stood out on her neck and her body shook with tension.

"Fire Rose, show me your passion!" he instructed, walking behind her, laying the oar over the boat.

Nasrin's voice rose higher, higher than she thought she could ever sing. Her eyes closed and she craned her neck back, her body an embodiment of passion. Suddenly, her voice faltered and her eyes snapped open. Her breath fled her and her knees buckled. She toppled backwards, almost falling off the side of the boat.

Erik caught her before she touched the water. Her head fell back against his chest. He smiled. "Very, very good, my little Fire Rose. You could be good to have around yet." He ran his fingers through her black mane, smiling fondly at her. He felt something loosen in her hair and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked himself as he pulled down more on her hair. In a moment, Nasrin's wig fell harmlessly on the boat floor. Erik's eyes widened and his breath fled him. "Oh God Fire Rose . . . if ever you were right . . ."

Now that the wig was gone, Erik could see the extent of Nasrin's distortion. It looked as though her head had been set on fire. She had a few random thin locks of hair that fell like wisps of smoke from her scalp, which was scarred black and charred. Her scalp had inconsistent bumps and crusting ridges where the burned skin had dried. There were numerous pink scars that streaked across her head, resembling hurried slashes from a blunt knife. Her face, however, had remained unscathed from the terrible scars.

In his shock, Erik dropped her from his arms. She fell to the boat deck and immediately awakened. Her eyes snapped open and she shook herself.

"My head." She reached up to massage her scalp, and then gasped, her face twisting. She could feel the cracking skin of her deformity and her eyes immediately found Erik's. His gaze was soft and pitying, his eyes squinted in painful compassion. "Oh no." She covered her head with her hands and frantically put her wig back on. Tears spouted from her eyes, her breath choked with anguish. She curled up in a ball on the boat, shaking with sobs.

"Nasrin, don't cry," Erik implored, kneeling down to her. She didn't stop, only cried louder as she curled up into a tighter ball. "Fire Rose . . . please." He grabbed her wig and removed it gently.

"What are you doing? Does my head fascinate you?" she hissed as she stretched herself out.

Erik put his hands on the sides of her head and looked down at her. "I never realized . . . how much like me you are. But if you can see my face and not cringe, your head couldn't bother me any less." He bowed his head and kissed the top of her head lightly. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him incredulously, her eyes still watery.

"Did . . . did you just kiss my head?" she asked, her bottom lip still quivering.

"Yes."

Nasrin threw herself into Erik's arms, weeping into his neck. Her whole body shook and her grip on his cloak tightened. "Praise Allah for you, Erik. Thank you."

"Poor Fire Rose. What type of torment did people put you through?" Erik asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"I wasn't born like this, Monsieur. This is the result of a punishment given to me by Khortdad."

"What, why would he do this to you?" Erik asked in shock, touching her head.

"Because even after we became engaged, I danced. He wouldn't trust me, even if I wore these." She pointed to a string of beads that hugged the curves of her waist.

"What are those?" Erik asked.

"These are chastity beads. Only virgins can wear them in my country; it is a symbol of a young girl's purity. Once a girl is married, the husband must cut the chain after they lay together for the first time. Then and only then does a girl become a woman and a wife." (A/N: I didn't do any research. I just made that up.)

Erik looked at the string of small wooden beads, knowing she expected him to cut them off one day and liberate her from the title of a child. He realized she was waiting for his leave to continue.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Go on with your story," he ushered.

Nasrin nodded. "Khortdad thought dancing was something only a love slave would do, so he set my hair on fire to ensure that I wouldn't dance looking as I do now. The blaze burned more than it should have and I was left with this." She pointed to her scalp. "This was two years ago. When I showed my parents, they wouldn't come near me, and they gave me this wig. I was never treated as anything more than a slave after that." She pulled away and looked Erik in the eyes. "That is, until you kissed my head. It . . . felt so good. Could . . . you perhaps do it again?" She looked so hopeful, her eyes pleading for him.

Erik kissed her head again, smiling as she sighed. Nasrin's heart hammered hard in her chest. Her skin tingled where his lips had brushed; she tightened her grip on him, never wanting to release him. He held her in his arms, nuzzling into her scalp.

Nasrin pulled away and gently removed his mask. He looked discerned, not used to anyone willingly removing the white barrier if they knew what lay behind it. She smiled and kissed the part of his face he believed no one could look fondly at. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her gentle, soft lips press tenderly against his sagging, gruesome flesh.

"Fire Rose, what are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Showing you how good it feels when someone cares," she answered in his ear. Erik, with his arms around her, pushed her over so that she lay sprawled on her back underneath him. She looked up at him affectionately. As he moved in to kiss her, she pushed him off her.

"What's wrong now?" he asked.

"If I kiss you . . . I won't be able to stop. And we are on a boat. A small boat. We would capsize if we were to . . ."

"Perhaps you're right. And . . . you aren't my Angel of Music after all."

Nasrin's expression darkened and she roared, striking him. He was brutally pushed off her, causing the boat to rock and water to splash around the sides. She moved to the farthest side of the gondola and put on her wig again. "Let's just deliver your God damned letters and be done with it." She turned from him and faced the waterway before her, not allowing Erik to see the look of profound dejection that she knew plagued her beauteous face.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!

DragonheartRAB: Yes, it does. And you really won't find out what happened until a bit later but . . . . yeah. Thanks for your comment! And now you know what's wrong with poor Nasrin. (sniffles) I'm sorry Nasrin, really I am!

Videociraptor: Thief! Come back with the smilie's mask and no one gets hurt! JK. Thanks for your random tangent, it was much fun to read, and I'm glad you thought chapter 4 was cute. (silently agrees) Thanks! (glomps)

phantominhell: LOL! Well here is your update, though as I said for DragonheartRAB, the whole Khortdad's death thing will be revealed in due time. Thanks for your comment!

Color Me Gray: First of all, love the name. Very cool. Pleased that you liked it, and well, we may have to get through the 'angst' part of the story before the 'heating up' can commence. But do not fear! There will definitely be cute displays of affection before then. Thanks for your comment!

Maska: LOL, a cliffhanger can definitely get one more reviews I see. Perhaps I should do that more often. (gets evil eye) Well, for now, here is your update!

The Charo: Hello again! I'm glad my story has your full attention; I hope I don't disappoint anyone with the chapters. (And I agree, updates are very yay.) Thanks for your comment!