A/N: So few reviews for my last chapter, and it was one of my favorites! It makes me very sad : ( Well, I will give you guys a chance to make up for it by reviewing now and making me feel better. Ok? Ok.

He wasn't entirely sure what her motive was for telling him about her shameless abandonment of the poor man who loved her, and he wasn't sure whether he was touched that she trusted him enough to tell him, or disgusted with her that she would choose money and comfort over love. Of one thing he was sure: Remy was the strongest woman he had ever met. Her physical appearance was deceiving; it concealed the strongest will to live he had ever encountered and a heart more honest than he had ever thought possible.

"Are you going to tell me why you are staring at me so, Erik, or are you going to make me guess?"

"I was just thinking that it seems some of us are destined not to find love."

"Not destined?" She looked at him incredulously, as if she couldn't believe his stupidity. "You mean that you think your failure with Christine and mine with Stefan and Leon were the work of fate?"

"You don't believe in fate?"

"Fate is an excuse for people too weak-willed to make their own destinies. It is way to avoid responsibility for actions by placing the blame on some undeterminable force. I used to think that we were each fated to live a certain life, that there was nothing we could do to control our futures. I used it to justify my actions, to make myself feel better. But if I believed that my life was destined to end a certain way, I would have given up in prison, and I wouldn't be standing here before you. If I believed in fate, my body would b a pile of ash and Leon would be crowing over his victory!"

She really did take every excuse to launch into these impassioned speeches, and Erik found it more appealing than he would like to admit. Yet even as he admired her fire, he didn't like the idea that she would dismiss fate so easily, when he had consoled himself with the concept of being destined for loneliness.

"So, you say that no one has any extenuating circumstances, that we have complete control over everything?"

"You are trying to make me sound ridiculous by putting words in my mouth, and creating illogical conclusions."

"Well then, give me a little help and clarify your thinking for me."

"I never said that we had complete control over our lives. I believe that God sets us each on a path, some of us with larger burdens than others, and lets us make our own choices, and those choices dictate what direction our lives take."

"So, you are one of those." He heard bitterness creep into his voice, and knew she wouldn't appreciate it.

"One of what, may I ask?" She sounded annoyed at his dismissive tone. "I believe in God, if that's what you mean."

"Really? Would you mind giving me a reason? I'm not sure I understand why an intelligent girl like you would fall for such lies."

Now she was more angry than annoyed. "It's called faith! Have you ever heard of it? You are willing to believe that fate guides your existence, but you can't believe that God does? All the evidence I have seen points to God; there are times when I could not have survived if it were not for little things that could not have happened by chance."

"So you think that God is some benevolent higher power?"

"Yes."

"Then how do you explain this?" He pulled his mask off, revealing once more the horrible distortion of his face.

I knew I had to try to find some way to explain this to him, some way to justify the pain he had suffered, as I tried not to stare at the red and purple tinted skin and ridges of twisted bone.

"The only man to raise a finger to help me was a priest; a man I had known since childhood. When I went to him in Loraine after escaping prison, I was...I was so angry at God for allowing this to happen to me, but Père Renault told me something I shall never forget. He said that God only gives burdens to shoulders strong enough to carry them."

"Well, apparently, this all-knowing God of yours misjudged my strength." The pain in his voice tore at my heart, and I wished I could make it stop, heal his face; heal his heart. Interesting, I thought, that even staring at the horror of his face, I was still attracted to Erik, still wanted to hold him and stroke his hair and let him cry on my shoulder...I really had to stop thinking like this, it wasn't at all good for me.

"I think you misjudge your own strength. Listen to me, Erik, I don't know why life happens the way it does, I don't know why God would give you that face, but I know must be a reason."

"What reason could he possibly have for this?" He hissed at me, and his green eyes looked almost yellow in the candlelight, giving him the appearance of some wild animal ready to attack. "Is this his idea of fun? Some sick joke? Or is this a punishment for my parents? Did they not pray enough? Tell me, Remy, why did this God of yours decide that I should be forced to live my whole life alone?"

"God gave you the face, but he did not force you underground to live like a hunted animal. Perhaps he-"

"Didn't force me-!"

"Don't interrupt me! I let you have your say, now let me have mine! Perhaps he gave you your face for the sake of the people around you, to give them a chance to live the virtue of charity, a chance that they did not take. But God did not exile you to this prison. The evil of some men and your own fear did."

"Fear? You dare to tell me that I am afraid?" Wonderful, Remy, why don't you just make him want to kill you. I was just full of brilliant ideas today. Interesting, though, that a few days ago, he would have come closer as he tried to intimidate me, now he kept his distance, as if afraid of coming closer.

"Aren't you? Why else would you remain here? You are afraid that if you try again, if you make another attempt to be a part of the world, you will be rejected. And you think that it would be worse to try, and find yourself alone once more, than to not try, and live your whole life wondering what could have been. You're even a little afraid of me, aren't you?"

"You have no right to–I don't know why you– afraid of you? That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard!"

"Then why do you refuse to come near me?"

He had been hoping she would not notice his hesitance to draw nearer to her, but she noted his distance with some measure of satisfaction in having made a very good point. He noticed that his mask was still in his hand, and threw it to the ground in frustration. He had known this would not end well when he walked in and saw her in that beautiful dress that exactly matched the color of her eyes; with every moment that passed, the urge to take her in his arms and press his lips to hers grew. She was fascinating to watch when she was angry, the way she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she prepared to begin a verbal duel, the way she always looked directly into his eyes when she spoke to him, as if there was nothing about him that even began to frighten her.

But he could not allow himself to wallow in his own weakness, to give in to urges he knew were foolish and wrong. For all that she swore she trusted him and enjoyed his company, she would be sick if she ever knew what thoughts were playing in his mind, if he ever allowed himself to touch her. So he did what any man who wanted to protect himself would have done under the circumstances.

In an instant, he was by her side, and before she could react, he was standing behind her with a hand around her throat and his other arm wrapped around her waist pinning her arms to her sides. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart, and the tenseness of her shoulders against his chest.

"Afraid, my dear? I think not." She tried to pull away from him, but her movement was futile. "But you seem to forget, Remy, exactly what I am. Did I not warn you that I was a monster? Did I not tell you that I had killed before? What makes you so sure I will not do so again?" He heard himself saying the words, but they were so disconnected from his actual thoughts that it seemed he was watching someone else threaten Remy. She must have felt the hesitancy that ran through his body in that moment, and she took immediate advantage of it. He felt her fingernails dig into his wrist, and he instinctively loosened his grip; Remy responded by whirling around and bringing her fist upwards to connect with the good side of his face. She has a strong arm for such a small woman, he thought fleetingly as he stepped away from her. She apparently wasn't done yet, and stepped down hard on his foot, before retreating a few steps.

They stood there for a moment, as she looked at him reproachfully, her cheeks flushed and her hair falling in her face. Without another word, she turned and ran to her room, leaving him staring after her wondering what he had done.

A/N: So much for imminent fluffiness. Maybe next chapter...review to find out!