Erik stood with his arm outstretched over the door, keeping it shut. He wasn't looking at her, rather looking downwards. She backed away slowly from him, stumbling slightly. How could she have been so stupid! She cursed herself for ever having a curious nature. His eyes slowly rose to her. They glittered hypnotising her, flashing with menace. He was clad in just working trousers and a loose white cotton shirt. His white mask sat perfectly on his face, showing his eyes, reflecting the flames in the room. He looked like the devil himself. Christine felt her mouth go dry.

"So, are you going to explain why you insist on…entertaining me with your presence?" He said, unnervingly calmly. She swallowed nervously. She was so close to him, she could see the laboured beads of sweat on his visible forehead. He was breathing heavy, and every step she took backwards, he took one forwards. She whimpered slightly, and he let out a nasty grin.

"That's it?" He mocked. "You came to show me you were afraid? You came all this way just to show me that?" He surprisingly bowed slightly, never taking his eyes from her face.

"Well Madame, I am honoured."

He pushed past her roughly after a few moments of staring. He retreated around a wooden screen panel, and she could hear him returning to his work. She had been unable to think clearly in his presence. She was terrified of him, and the strange thing was, it was still because of the strange grip he still had on her. Now she saw him in light, unlike the first encounter, he seemed all the more intimidating, yet all the more familiar. She recalled times when the man, who made her fall with his pushing past her, had held her like a china doll, careful as not to break her with one abrupt motion or word. She gulped back her tears.

"It's…its Mademoiselle." She called back to him timidly. She heard the shuffling of his work stop. He appeared once more, making her heart shudder slightly, with which emotion she did not know. He gave her a venomous look.

"I don't care." He growled. Christine now let the tears bubble to the surface. Why was he being so cruel? She had been through enough to shatter a weaker heart, and now he was trying to break it even more. She felt the familiar anger arise with her tears, which spilt over as he turned his back away from her.

"How…How dare you!" She spluttered. He turned to her with a look of amusement and shock He crossed his broad arms, awaiting her speech silently. She faltered slightly, but found courage from somewhere. "I…I have travelled half way across the globe! I almost died! I watched R…I saw people close to me shot dead! I had no choice…I…I had to come here…"

Erik had his eyes narrowed at this point. The look of amusement remained, yet the shock had turned to fury.

"I gave my world to someone once," He almost whispered, walking towards her as he did. "I died a thousand deaths for them. I endured the worst pain. I watched…" He was directly in front of her now. "…the closest person I had, kill me. And you still think you had to come here? You still think you had to remind me of what I am to you?" She shook her head in silent protest, but he ignored her. "I would rather you sulk back to where you came from, and stay there."

Christine snapped. "Then why did you bring me back!" She screamed. "Why did you send Nasih to watch over me? Do I really not mean that much to you anymore?"

Christine saw anger flash through his eyes, but he hesitated on replying. He snarled at her and turned away.

Erik had tried convincing himself that he now hated Christine. Hating her for leaving him, hating her for cutting out his heart. He wanted her to feel so unwanted that she would just leave him alone. He could force her out, but damn god, he could not do that to her. Why? Because of why he hated her so. Because he still loved her.

But he was not about to let that come between how he wanted to feel about her. He repressed the feelings, but now, she was bringing up questions he had tried for so long to answer himself. Why couldn't he just leave her be? The same reason why she couldn't to him? Now that was just hopeful, ridiculous wishful thinking.

"Why won't you answer!" She yelled at him. She was going to drag it out of him, why he wouldn't turn to her when she spoke of such things, why he wouldn't see her, why he had turned her away, and then brought her back so quickly. She needed answers, and pushing him was the only way she was going to get any.

"Erik…Erik, please! I need you to tell me! Don't walk away when I…"

"Christine, SHUT UP!" He grabbed her wrist, her good one fortunately, as it was a terribly strong grip. He tightened it, making her moan in pain. She thought she saw an angry tear slip down behind his mask.

"Christine! I…When I see you, I feel nothing…nothing! Do you understand? I don't know why you came to me, and I really don't care anymore! Just stay out of my way, and don't come snooping around here again! Go…go back to the house, Christine."

His voice became softer towards the end of speaking, but this was because of the crestfallen face Christine had taken on. She looked as he felt, her face twisted in pain, maybe not from his grip. Her beautiful eyes radiated the magnificent sorrow he could hardly bear in his own heart, let alone hers.

She twisted from his grip and ran from the hut. For once, she was not crying. She ran in a state of realisation. Her heart felt like someone had cut a huge slice out of it. She now knew how it felt for Erik. How it felt to be completely heartbroken.

- --

Dull and bright days past, and Christine had not left her room. She had shut herself in, only letting Hadjira the maid in to give her food. Every night she had cried herself to sleep, waking the next day with a terrible headache, and spending the day in bed. She became so lethargic; she hardly got out of the bed at all. Her hair was straggly, and her eyes were constantly swollen. Sometimes she couldn't even bring herself to eat the food that was brought for her. Her mind had slipped right back into its darkness, like it was in Paris. All she had was her memories, which were becoming sour.

One night, she heard a horse coming down the path towards the house. She didn't get up to see, but she listened carefully, as it was the one visitor she had heard since her own arrival. Yet, despite the danger she could have been in, she quickly dismissed it, and dozed in a depressed state, letting more tears stain her grubby face.

Nasih dismounted from his horse, and knocked on the door. A maid answered, and he requested someone take leave of his horse to the stables. On entering the dark entrance hall, he climbed up stairs and turned down corridors, to go to the room which he dreaded. He gritted his teeth as he lifted a fist, to rap lightly on the iron frame.

The door shifted slightly, and a warm, soft glow poured into the shadows of the corridor. A large frame blocked the light source instantly, and it moved out of the room. He shut the door behind him.

"Well?" He growled in monotone.

"Nothing."

Erik sighed. Some of the weight on his chest was lifted for a moment. But he still did not feel any gratitude towards the man in front of him. He gave him a murderous look, before turning to enter his room once more.

"I had to do it, Sir." Nasih spoke up in Persian this time. Erik turned, his jaw locked, restraining himself against the door frame, knowing that one wrong word of this man would mean death. Erik had no patience to speak of.

"No…You didn't." He almost yelled, but caught himself at the last second, not wanting servants to over hear the conversation. "You knew my instruction, any danger, you protect her. I'm sure her Vicomte husband, or apparently, her fiancée," He remembered Christine mentioning she was still Mademoiselle. He had told her he didn't care, but his lies did not fool his heart. It had jumped slightly, ever wondering why. ", was there to look after her. You did not have to bring her here." This was something else Erik had wondered about. Why had the Vicomte not come looking for Christine? Surely he had no give his consent to send Christine to him. Erik saw the grim look on Nasih's face.

"Sir…The Vicomte de Changey was…he was killed. He was shot by intruders in his house looking for Christine."

Erik froze. Raoul was dead? He did not know what emotion was gripping him first. But one thing that surprised him the most was the lack of pleasure he had from hearing this.

A few months ago, he had threatened to kill him himself. He loathed the man to the core of his soul. He had almost killed him the moment he saw him touch Christine. The only reason he had let Christine leave with that particular man, was because he knew that she loved him, and because she could be safe with him. But he could not comprehend that another man could love Christine has much as Erik did, but if Christine saw it, then what could he do? He had to let her go. And now, through his actions, she was now in even more danger.

Erik began to breathe deeply, verging on hysterical rage. Rage with no one but himself. In a flash, he had shoved past Nasih, and was running towards the room which he had given for Christine to stay in. On arriving at the door, he stopped. He looked at the floor for a few seconds. What was he doing? He had already succeed pushing Christine away, no matter how much it tore at his heart, but now, he could not carry on. Not when his angel had been torn from happiness. And yet, why should he feel like this? Hadn't she left him torn the same way she was now? Erik spun around from the door, growling. Then again…He stopped once more. His head and heart raged a war against each other, sending reason and hope up in arms.

His decision finally came to a conclusion. He cursed himself, and flung open her door.

He was surprised to see Hadjira sat by Christine's bed, clutching the girls hand feverishly. She looked terrified at Erik as he stormed in, and then cast a worried glance back over to Christine. She looked terrible. Her complexion had turned a ghastly white, and beads of sweat lingered on her forehead. She was not asleep, but tossing, as if she was in pain. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she muttered silent nothings through her darkened state.

"She's been like this for a while." Hadjira muttered. Erik paced slowly around the bed, never taking his eyes from Christine's face. He stood watching in horror for awhile before looking to the maid.

"Leave." He demanded. She gave him a worried look, but slowly picked herself up. She hesitated.

"Sir…"

"It was not a request." He said through clenched teeth. She gave another look to Christine before shutting the doors behind her.

Hadjira ran to find the one person she knew she could confined in. Nasih. She found him smoking on the patio courtyard in the centre of the house.

"Nasih, praise Allah, I found you." She shook. He frowned and stood up to hold her hands as she spoke rapidly. "The master…he….oh my, he demanded I left!"

"What, he fired you?" Nasih said in shock.

"No, no, he told me to leave Christine alone…alone with him!" She explained whispering, but hysterically. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she clung to Nasih's hands strongly.

Nasih thought for a moment, and patted one of her hands.

"You know, Hadjira, I think it might be ok."

"What!" She shouted this time. "He's a lunatic, you know that!"

"And he loves her." Nasih said flatly. Hadjira gave him a shocked a questioning look. He sighed, and sat her down in the chair he was previously. "I know, Hadjira, that he will not harm her. You can see it in both their eyes; they both would die for each other."

"Not harm her, like he wouldn't harm you?" She raised an eyebrow. Nasih felt the dull pain in his neck reacting to her words. He looked down.

"I gave him reason." He explained. "I do believe I have faith in the man yet. Don't worry."

But Hadjira could do nothing but worry. Christine was ill and defenceless, and she had just let a man in her room alone. A man who she didn't trust at all with anyone alone. He had scared her the day she had took one of the maid jobs. He paid his staff well over what any lord did in Persia, yet, Hadjira wasn't surprised that he did. Any less, and the staff would have left along time ago.

That night she wandered by Christine's room a few times, listening and watching for something suspicious. In the morning, she had timidly entered the room with a small knock. She got no answer, yet she peeped he head in, and saw the room as she had left it. Just Christine lying in her bed, sleeping, the windows open, with a soft, refreshing breeze cooling the room. One way she hadn't left it thought, was with a small smile that had appeared on Christine's lips.