A/N: I was in a good mood tonight and decided to put up another chapter. However, you have to take the good with the bad, since this is a horrible cliffhanger. Sorry, loyal fans.

Ch. 11 – The Fragile Rose

As the days turned into weeks, the men onboard the Fereshteh grew accustomed to Christine's presence. Most were extremely kind to her, falling over backward to bring her a chair or a cup of water. But, much to her growing frustration, it seemed that each time she would appear, Erik would take his leave shortly after. She sarcastically hoped that his duties weren't neglected because of her, but felt sure that he would have let her know if that were the case. Dryly she thought, Perhaps he would have written me a note.

She was growing wearisome of his game of avoidance; her anger now subsided for the moment. She wished that he would speak to her just once as a means of acknowledging her. She knew that her feelings for him were flighty and ever-changing. One moment she wished that she still lived with the belief that he were dead, the next she felt the urge to run to him, throwing herself at his feet and begging him to forgive her just so that he would hold her. Several times she had considered doing just that, only in a less dramatic fashion. But she found that she held doubt in her heart, not confident that his reaction would be the one that she expected. So many things had changed and the one conversation they had shared did nothing to encourage her that Erik still loved her as he had before her desertion.

Sometimes she would dare to believe that God had brought her here, to Erik on purpose. That Erik was meant to be the savior that she and Charles needed. If anyone could protect them from what she was running from, it was he. She had stopped herself from going to him and telling of her plight several times, knowing that if she did, he would help them out of obligation. She would be binding him to them, selfishly keeping him from making his own choice. If he chose to help them, she did not want him to do it based on his sense of chivalry, but based on his heart. Otherwise, it would be no better than what he had done to her.

In truth, Erik had taken to abandoning his post each time she emerged from below decks because he couldn't stand the sight of his men being able to speak to her and look on her without fear of being noticed. Each time she bestowed a smile or a laugh on one of the crew, it was a knife in his heart. It was a reminder that he was not worthy of her.

Because he was dodging her most of the days, Erik had taken to completing his inspections at night knowing that she would not be present. Another result was that he was not able to spend as much time with Charles as he would have liked. Sensing that this was part of the cause of his frustrations, Stone had talked to Christine about allowing Charles to visit the Captain in his quarters for a luncheon. She gave her permission, knowing that her son was also going through withdrawal from not being able to spend time with his hero.

The accuracy of her decision was apparent when the boy returned to her hours later, boisterous and silly. She envied him the time that he was able to spend with Erik with no preconceived notions of the man's intentions. "Captain Apollos said to tell you happy birthday, Mama and give you this." He handed her a rose that was made of paper dipped in red ink. "Is it your birthday Mama?"

She stared at the paper flower incredulously. He had remembered her birthday, she had not. "Yes, little man, your Mama is twenty-seven years old today." That would make Erik about forty-three she calculated. As an after-thought she forced herself to remember Raoul, he would have been thirty-one next month.

"I didn't get you a present. I'm sorry Mama." Smiling at her son's wonderful compassion for others, she soothed him by suggesting that he draw her a picture as her present. Encouraged, he set off to create a masterpiece.

She turned the flower between her fingers musing on Erik's possible meaning. Was this a peace offering, finally? Or was he merely giving her a gift out of propriety? Something that he prided himself on was his etiquette. He may never be able to look like an acceptable member of society, but he could act as one better than any nobleman.

He had remembered her birthday, it meant something to him. She decided then and there, before the night was over, she would go to him again and she would present him with an apology. She would finally give him the gratitude that he deserved for all that he had done for them. Then she would wait to see what he would say. If he sent her away again in anger, she would at the very least be safe in the knowledge that she attempted to make amends.

Happy with her decision, she began to rummage through her meager belongings to find her very best dress. It was nowhere near the standard of fashion, in fact it was quite drab. There were a few loose stitches and the material had become pilly because of its age and the number of washings that it had gone through. She tried to use her new found skills as a seamstress to repair and make some improvements to the garment. Once she had done all that she could with it, she stepped behind the dividing screen and put it on. In order to quell the butterflies that had begun to float in her stomach, she busied herself in front of the mirror, putting up her hair into a loose chignon, applying a bit of rouge and generally trying to improve upon what Erik would consider the perfection of her appearance.

Suddenly, she heard a man yelling for help. She pressed her ear to the door, not wanting to open it in case there was danger, but only heard several sets of running footsteps in the hallway heading for the stairs. She hoped that whatever was happening, no one was hurt. She wished that she could be of some assistance, but knew that more than likely she would only serve to get in the way if there were any real trouble. She returned to her makeshift vanity of the desk chair pulled in front of the mirror to finish her preparations, wondering if Erik was involved in whatever was happening up top.

Her thoughts left her mind the instant she heard someone pounding savagely on her door. Instinct told her not to open the portal and she moved to Charles. The pounding was becoming more threatening and she feared that any moment the door would splinter off of its hinges. Whoever was on the other side was determined to gain entrance. Shaking she told Charles to hide under the bed. Just as his head disappeared, the door swung open and thudded against the opposite wall.

Standing on her doorstep was Harcourt and two other crewmen. She recognized the two men as being very unfriendly to her whenever she was near them up on deck. Now she knew why, apparently they were the redhead's friends.

Stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind them, one of the men moved a chair under the doorknob securing it from the inside while Harcourt closed the distance between himself and Christine. "No one to save you this time, bitch. My men made sure that the freak captain and his lap dog will be occupied for sometime with a fire in the galley. You are going to pay for the pain you caused me."

He made a gesture at his accomplices and they grabbed Christine by her arms, pulling her spread eagle. Harcourt approached her with a sick and deadly gleam in his eye and before she could scream, he reached forward and tore the front of her dress. Fixing his hungry gaze on her flesh, he growled low in his throat, "Oh yeah, you're gonna pay."

A/N: You are not happy with me right now are you? Leave a review, I love reactions to cliffies!