The morning of the arrival at Turkey was an exciting one. The last few days on board the ship had been rough, as the Mediterranean had taken a turn for the worst. The crew had been fighting to keep the ship on course, while the passengers had hid below deck out of the raging weather. They had finally arrived a day late at the port of ….. in Turkey. Christine again had leaned over the rail of the boat to watch them pull into dock. The sight had been amazing. She had never experienced anything like the sigh that met her eyes. The dock was crowded, rather like it was in Marseille, but there was a different aura to the place. The majestic colours that sprinkled the dusty port were entrancing. Women in brightly clad robes and veils carried large baskets of fish and spices to the ships, in an array of colours. Deep reds and shocking oranges were the norm, and everything seemed so finely detailed. Christine drank the sight in hungrily. The crew said their goodbyes to the passengers sadly, waving farewells and shouting hopeful promises of seeing each other again. Christine was slightly glad to be gone of the claustrophobic spaces, and Nasih suddenly had a new spring in his step that Christine had not seen in France. He was grinning slightly, and pointing out things to her animatedly. She gaped at some of the sights, like street performers for the new arrivals, seaside markets, selling fish of every sort, the smells and sounds were so foreign to Christine, she almost felt she had landed in a new world.

"We now have to get on the final train." Nasih said, pointing through to a small rickety building, which was lay next to a rail track, hardly recognisable as a train station. The crowd was a lot more rowdy here than what it was in Marseille, yet Christine hardly noticed. She was too enthralled by the amazing sights of this new country.

"Wait till you see Persia." Nasih puffed his broad chest out proudly. "There you will see beauty you only see in your dreams." He had slipped into his Persian accent a lot more now he was in his own territory. She noticed, despite his lack of darker features, he blended in wonderfully with the crowds, looking like this is where he belonged, a lot more comfortable. She felt, however, like a foreigner, which she was, yet she felt she stuck out quite a bit, clad in her Western dress, which was beginning to feel very uncomfortable under the midday sun. She shifted slightly, frowning. She felt the same horrible sense of faintness she had felt back in the crowds at Marseille.

"Nasih…" She tugged his at his arm, which she had been linking onto. "I can't wear this damn dress any longer. I feel like I'm about to melt!" Nasih smiled. He lead her too a large stall in the market, where beautiful fabrics were draped all over the canopy, shading the dark haired women who owned the little shop. Nasih spoke to them in another language, different, Christine recognised, to the Persian language she had heard him speak before. After he had finished, the women had took Christine by the arms, smiling and chatting to each other, stroking her curls, and clutching her chin. Christine gave a worried glance to Nasih.

"Go with them." He smiled. "You'll be ok."

Nasih waited by the stall as the women took Christine to a small hut not too far away. He pulled out another cigarette, taking a slow drag after lighting. He was ever so glad to be off the boat, and back to where he belonged. He felt at home again, away from the drab, mundane atmosphere of Europe. He made a mental note not to return if he could help it. He missed his life here in the East. He also thought of Christine. She had enchanted the company that night with her awing singing. He had got the feeling there was a lot more to the situation than what he had expected. This girl and his master, he could not comprehend. The deepness he saw in their eyes, the sorrow and the dreadful pain he had felt protruding from them made him think hard. He was a rational man, a man who believed in what was in front of him. Yet his mind had been opened by the mysterious Christine, young, yet beyond her years at the same time. He felt his attraction to her disturbing, and tried to shake it away, but his heart gave a skip when she came out of the small hut once more, smiling with the women, who babbled in their language, obviously admiring Christine. Nasih had never seen anyone look so beautiful before. He had heard stories of woman that had made men mad with their beauty. Fairy stories of course, but now he was beginning to doubt their fiction. Christine had been dressed by the women in their own eastern clothes. She wore a long cotton black skirt, which just covered her boots which she had kept on. Her top was a wrapped over back material which complimented her figure astoundingly, and over that was a long, see-through veil, which the women had traditionally wrapped around her waist, up to her shoulders, and loosely draped around her hair, which they had gathered into a bun, letting stray curls fall flatteringly around her porcelain face. Christine blushed slightly at Nasih's gaze.

"You look…beautiful." He stammered. She smiled sadly.

"Thank you." She said awkwardly. She felt a lot better in this dress, comfortable, and cooler. She had never sported her hair like this before, and she felt the back of her neck cool considerably. Yet she felt strange under Nasih's stare. She decided to ignore it.

He now led her to the train station, were the crowds were waiting for the train to arrive.

"It will take about a day to get to the capital," Nasih explained. "And about half a day to get to our destination." Christine frowned.

"But I thought we were going to the capital of Persia. Isn't that were he…where we are going?" Nasih shook his head.

"He utterly refused to ever go to the capital." Nasih looked distant, as if in deep thought. "He said it would dangerous for him."

"Why?"

"I can't say I know, Christine. He took up home in Shiraz, a beautiful place south of Persia. They say it is the home to all artists and poets of the world."

That sounds like the right place, Christine thought, with a hint of sickness rushing through her. The nerves were becoming more apparent as every hour passed and every step she took closer. He had spent so long being close to her, so near, and yet she had never seen him for years. She was terrified of him, yet wanted him with her always. The same as what she felt now. She would have run back to Paris and faced death, if it wasn't for the urge to look upon her mentor once more, to see him happy; to rid herself of this waking nightmare of his pain riddled face as she left him.

The train had arrived and set off quickly. The train was not orderly; it was packed with travellers to Persia, India and further East. There were no seats, just railing along the side to hold onto. The ticket collector had to fight to make his way to the end of the train, and sometimes missing people who jumped on and off at stops. Nasih had paid him from the endless pocket he had in his waist coat, and sat on the floor. Christine had leaned out the open windows to watch the foreign landscape whiz by. They passed towns, cities, country, mountains and farms. She felt her head spinning with all the new sights she could not keep up with. Soon she felt herself sitting tiredly next to Nasih as night fell. She moved closer to him, as the breeze from the empty windows was getting quite cold. He put his jacket over her as she placed her head on his shoulder, falling into another troubled sleep. Nasih watched her for a while, putting out his cigarette as not to disturb her with the smoke. As she slept, he felt his own eyes drooping. The light rickety noise of the train on track felt soothing, and the night air was heavy, making sleep inviting, so Nasih also, fell into a thoughtful doze.

- --

Christine and Nasih were both awoke by shouts of annoyance and anger. Christine sat up groggily as she tried to focus on the scene. The train was still moving, yet it was early morning, as the hot morning sun was greeting them with. Nasih stood up and spoke to some of the passengers aboard the train. He looked slightly worried as he turned to Christine, and then swearing in a foreign tongue.

"What's wrong?" She said urgently. He shook his head in annoyance.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have fallen asleep." He groaned. "My jacket. It's gone. Few of the other passengers stuff has gone too."

Christine looked around to see there was no jacket. She looked worried.

"How are we going to pay for anything now?" She said in a high pitched voice. Nasih shrugged and sighed.

"I'm not worried about that." He said, pulling some noted from his trouser pockets. Christine sighed in relief, and looked at Nasih, who looked distraught. "My cigarettes where in my jacket!"

A few hours later, around mid morning, the train came to finally came to Tehran, Persia's capital. Christine felt her heart leap as she left the smelly train carriage. Nasih was right, Persia was a sight fit for a god. The buildings decorated with gold reached up to the heavens with the circular turrets, and their white washed wall gleamed magnificently under the sun. The colours here were also flamboyant, but with more variety. The lack of grubbiness here contrasted with Turkey's port, everything was majestic, grand and regal. Palaces and mosques could be seen all around, and beautiful people wandered past, clad in the most beautiful robes. Christine gasped audibly.

"Ahh, now this, this is home." Nasih said as he breathed in heavily. He almost ran from the station, dragging Christine with him. He spent over an hour just pointing out things to Christine, who spent the same amount of times grabbing Nasih's arm and asking him questions about the amazing sights she could see before her. They almost soothed her eyes which had been so scalded by bad images in her past. And although she missed France terribly, this was a world of dreams, and she wished she could stay here longer. But Nasih had already begun to take her away from the city centre, towards the poorer areas of Tehran. She saw sights that were not as pleasing as before. Children and the old forced to beg in rags, who Christine had given money to after forcing an unwilling Nasih to turn his pockets out.

"You know, Christine, you can't help by giving some money to just those beggars. You give some, and they all come after you."

"At least you helped a little." She muttered. She wasn't enjoying this part of Tehran at all, and she wanted to return to the centre. But Nasih kept her walking to the outskirts, where they finally came to a house. Nasih knocked eagerly on the door, and waited, ringing his hands together. Christine was about to ask him were they were, when the old door swung open to reveal a woman. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, and she flung herself into Nasih's chest. He wrapped his arms lovingly around her, and kissed the top of her head fondly. She muttered something in Persian to him, and he talked back, his voice, Christine heard, breaking with emotion. The woman wept with happiness and to Christine's surprise, lifted herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed Nasih lovingly. He returned the kiss, clutching her to him. Christine stood with her eyebrows raised in shock.

"Christine," Nasih said, eyes shimmering. "This is my wife, Hessia." He seemed oblivious to Christine's shocked face, and spoke to his wife in Persian, pointing Christine as he did so. She seemed to look a little confused, then frowned, then nodded, in a general acceptance. She held Christine's slender hands and bowed into them.

"Please." She spoke in rough English, which Christine understood. "Please, come in to us home."

Nasih moved towards the door, allowing Christine to enter before him. She gave him a frown when passing him. He looked down slightly. On entering, she heard the noise of loud shouting and laughter. Nasih moved past her in the entrance parlour, and moved into one of the tiny rooms. His entrance was greeted with screams of joy and squealing. Hessia, Nasih's wife, lead Christine smiling into the same room. She saw Nasih covered head to toe in children. Hugging, kissing, and pouncing on him from all directions. There must have been around 9 or 10. Christine couldn't help but smile as Nasih hugged and kissed them all lovingly, and introduced Christine to them all. Nabil, Amin, Habiba, Henia, Lemis, Jalila, Nadir, Emir and others she couldn't pronounce. They all bowed politely to Christine, smiling happily that their father had come home.

They had spent the night at Nasih's house, having a large meal that Hessia had prepared for them as soon as they arrived. There were a lot of exotic foods, and Christine waffled it down hungrily, as she had not eaten properly since she had left the boat at Turkey. Hessia beamed at Christine who seemed to enjoy the food, a great sign of respect to the household. The children had also taken a shine to Christine, and wanted her to play with them. Although she could not understand them, children have their own language of play, and she could easily interact through actions. She had them laughing like maniacs after some of the games she played with them, ones she had played with her father and Raoul as a child herself. Nasih and Hessia had disappeared for a while as Christine was with the children.

The next day, a carriage was waiting out side the small apartment like house. Christine leaned out of the window to see Nasih saying goodbye to his children, who wept loudly. She rushed down the stairs to the courtyard outside, where Hessia stood, silently weeping into her hands. The children clung to their father, whose face was twisted into silent grief of leaving his family behind once again. Christine was still groggy from waking up so quickly, yet was awaked suddenly by the children leaping on her, and shouting their goodbyes. One of the youngest girls brought a chain of jasmine for Christine, and she hung it around her neck. Christine felt choked and felt tears welling up for the children. She gave the little girl her gloves she had kept from her old travelling dress, stitched with tiny white flowers. The young girl squealed with delight and put the over sized gloves on comically. Nasih was saying a long goodbye to Hessia as Christine climbed into the rickshaw cab. He emptied the last of his money into her hands, and kissed her tenderly. She closed her eyes at her husbands kiss, and Christine felt a wave of jealously spread over her. She turned away and looked into the carriage. Nasih at last climbed into the carriage, and it pulled away. The children ran along side it for what seemed hours, skipping and laughing, and they threw make shift balls to their father, who leaned out the window to catch, then threw back again. Soon, the distance and speed became too far for the children to keep up with, and their cheery faces soon disappeared into the distance. Nasih sat back and sighed, tears settling in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Christine asked. She had a look of annoyance in her eyes. Nasih frowned. "I didn't think it mattered." He said back. His eyes were distant, obviously not concentrating on what Christine had said.

"What do you mean, 'it didn't matter'! " Her voice grew in anger. "You think your family don't matter?" She was getting angry with Nasih, and she hardly knew why. Nasih was brought back to reality by her sharp tone. He looked at her hurt face. He knew exactly why he didn't tell her. Because of the hurt he saw right now in her eyes.

"I never told you," He said in almost a whisper. "Because I thought it inappropriate."

"You think I can't handle it? Is that what it is?" She sneered. Nasih suddenly frowned at Christine and raised his voice.

"Mademoiselle, do not make the mistake that you are the only one with feelings!" He said harshly. "I find it just as hard to talk about loss as you do. Please just put an end to you self obsession!"

Christine felt like he had just punched her in the stomach. She looked shocked at him for a long time, and he glared at her. He moved his eyes quickly to the door window, where feelings of regret met him. He wished he hadn't said that. He didn't mean it; she had every right to feel sorry for herself. Why was he so harsh? After a long period of silence, he finally turned to her.

"Christine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No." She interrupted. "I'm sorry. Your right, I am being selfish."

"Christine, that's not true, I meant I was…"

"Nasih," She leaned over and held his hand. "I was jealous of your family. I was jealous of your happiness. But I know it comes at a price. I have experienced joys you may not know, and you the same, but we still share loss of some sort. I was wrong to be cross."

Nasih smiled sadly at her truthful features. He nodded without replying, and once again they sat in silence. Hours past in silence, and Christine was beginning to feel sick. The nerves were in her mouth now, and she could hardly speak without her voice shaking. Her hands trembled terribly on her lap. All the sights she had seen, and all the feelings she had experienced were not as terrifying as this moment was. Nasih was leaning out of the window every now and again and checking his watch. She bit her nails, and fiddled with her veil. Sometimes she bent over, clutching her stomach at the sickening feeling that was overtaking her senses. Nothing could have prepared her for the moment the carriage came to a halt.

"We're here."

Nasih climbed out the carriage into the sunset light road. He offered her a hand. Christine felt her head go dizzy and her legs felt like jelly. She trembled all over, and her breathing had become shallow. She tried to close her eyes and rid the feelings, but nothing would ease the feeling she got as the first laid eyes of Erik's home.