This chapter is dedicated to my kitties, cause I miss them while I'm at collage. Oh, and to JPT, cause she has been such a faithful reviewer, and has been 'with me' on this fic almost since the beginning.

I love all my reviewers!

Chapter Fifty Two: What Lies Beneath

Eric

Though my trap had dissipated the instant she picked up the lantern, I continued to track the girl.

It was an idle pursuit, for she no longer posed any threat to me, but I had to grudgingly admit that I enjoyed watching her. By the meager light of her lamp, she appeared to be some sort of ghost in her own right. The pale color of her damp, clinging shift provided an artistic contrast to her dark, dripping hair and olive skin, for with only the lantern to illuminate her features, she seemed to be solely comprised of soft shades of gray.

But despite the pleasant scenery, my mind was focused elsewhere.

The Giry girl's words had confused and threatened me. She spoke of fear, of uncertainty, and of joy. I could roughly understand those concepts, and her sisterly advice gave me hope even as it befuddled me. I had felt those very things! Granted, the context was often different from the manner in which she had described it, but the emotions were there none the less.

I was sure that I would come across the joy that she spoke of in due time. Once my fiancée had grown to love me as I did her, I would certainly find my own little slice of paradise. Though my feelings for my beloved were rarely uncertain (for I knew with every inch of my soul that she was mine) they sometimes unnerved a small part of my mind with their feverish intensity. Was it possible to love something until it hurt? Regardless of my questions, it was a bit empowering to know that others shared these same reactions.

Perhaps I was human after all?

The thought nearly made me giddy. Once my love was mine, that thought, that incredible dream would become a reality. She would banish the darkness inside me with the light of our love. I was with out a doubt in my mind that my beloved would be my savior, rescuing me from the deepest hells within my mind, forcing the voices that haunted me to flee with her demure beauty and soft words.

Yet this passion, this sense of certainty, was the very thing that bothered me.

Mlle. Giry had made no mention of any of these feelings. She had been so clear about everything else, so why had she forgotten to speak of the ache, the need that was such an interregnal part of love?

That overwhelming desire to have my beloved near me was the strongest ingredient in the solution of my love for her. I was possessed and consumed by my desire to please her, touch her, speak to her … I wanted every moment of her life on earth for my very own. I would make her happy, I would keep her forever, and she would be mine!

The potency of my desire to possess her caused me a sort of pain that far surpassed any I had every known.

Maman had beaten me, De Tham had been a harsh task master, and I had nearly died in my endeavors to protect Azadeh, but those injuries had been physical. That sort of pain was something that I had learned to ignore as a small child.

But that was not to say that my heart had had an easy journey through my miserable life either.

As a boy, I had done everything within my power to convince Maman to care for me. Every attempt had been shunned, punished, or simply ignored. I gave her everything, every gift that I possessed: Drawings, compositions, even an entire garden planted with my nine year old sweat and tears on the sweeping grounds of my father's estates. Only my music had moved her.

When I sang well enough, her eyes would glaze over in a familiar manner, and she would cease her constant tirades. Later, in Persia, I would come to learn that I had happened upon a unique form of hypnosis in my frantic attempt to win my mother's affections. At times she would nearly seem at peace, and my heart would swell with joy and ecstasy knowing that I had brought her something good.

But even I could only sing for so long, and soon she would forget that anything at all had changed.

I had not really understood at the time just how pointless my efforts would be, for it had taken me years to come to grips with the cold fact that my mother was completely insane. Even though I had lived with her for four long years in the asylum, I had never truly believed her to be mad until years after living among the sane.

Somehow, it had seemed utterly normal that she would often seize me from my seclusion and force me to chant prayers with her as we knelt on the cold floors of father's mansion. Her fits of religious zeal were unpredictable, and came at all hours of the day … and the night. It was rare event back then for me to have an entire night's sleep, for she often came for me while I dreamed and shrieked that we must confess our sins or we would be damned to hell. She terrorized me constantly with descriptions of a vicious, vengeful God above and an even more evil devil below. Even now, as a grown man, I avoided sleep whenever I could so as not to revive my constant nightmares.

The praying was far from the worst of it though … and the worst of it had finally caused me to run.

After escaping the house, I had thrown in my lot with De Tham and taken my chances on board the great ship Vanora. It had been a hard life, and I was often tormented by the crew, both verbally and physically. Yet had I not been there, I would never have met Mitra.

I had loved her the instant that I saw her, just as I had in the case of Mlle. Daae, my beloved. And Mitra had been every inch of the angel that her namesake implied. Of course, she was not nearly as lovely as the exquisite Swedish vision that now clouded my every thought, but she had been beautiful all the same.

The daughter of a powerful Rajah, she had an air of exotic beauty that drew me like a moth to a flame. Raven hair, richly tanned skin, and a body that put goddesses to shame… she had stolen my breath the very instant that we first met. Indeed, I had loved her before I had even seen her face.

It had been a cool, quiet evening on the Vanora. Her sails were unfurled, and she cut cleanly through the calm waters along the Tonkin coast.

The day had been a busy one, for De had entrusted me with apprising and dividing our latest booty. The captain of the 'elegant lady', as he often referred to his ship, De Tham had far too many responsibilities to see to such a trivial task. He had spent his day sequestered with several of the better navigators in the crew, planning our next attack on a wealthy vessel.

Exhausted, but unable to sleep, I had been on deck as we stealthily approached our target for the evening. Despite my weariness, I was looking forward to a new conquest. It was only during the actual business of pirating that I ever truly felt like a member of the crew.

When we were looting, I was just another sword in the fray. Not a disfigured, unlucky freak. Not the captain's pet project. Not the uppity boy who only took books and papers as his shares of the winnings.

Just another sword.

So it was no surprise that I was eager to be at my work. I was actually quite good at it, and De had trained me well enough that I rarely had to kill in order to render an opponent immobile.

Back then, I had been greatly disturbed by taking life. If only things had never changed…

In a sense, it had been Mitra herself that alerted me to the new phase in my life, though I had not known it at the time. In the still, quiet evening, the soulful notes of her violin had been the first indicator that we were nearing our target. The song was mournful and solemn, and I immediately resolved to take the player captive for a time. Such art would be a wonderful distraction from the long hours of loneliness.

But when I fought my way to my intended captive, surprise had leapt up and taken my windpipe in hand. I had been struck dumb by the young princess's beauty and nearly forgot to count her violin and personal possessions as my loot when the fighting was over. Every last man in the crew had eyed up my prize with a bit of longing, but on De Tham's ship there was honor among thieves. No one would contest my right to the prisoner and goods that I had taken single handedly.

At the time, I had been deliriously oblivious to it all, or I would have likely run a few of the more lustful men threw with my own sword. I would have done anything for her, and anything to keep her, for she was my first love.

For much of my life, I had been completely cut off from any eligible members of the fairer sex. Mitra had been the awakening of all my needs as a man. I had just turned eighteen, and my newly acquired desires were stirred into a frenzy when I realized that she was mine.

Mine!

In the brief time that she remained in my monstrous presence, she had given me a taste of what it was to love, to desire.

But it was not to last…

Sighing softly, I turned my thoughts back to the present. It was foolish to dredge up the past off of the ocean floor when my future shone ahead of me like a bright beacon lighting my path. My secret love would one day give me all that I had been denied all those years ago, lighting up my life with a brilliance of another world.

With those happy thoughts in mind, I refocused on the little lantern that continued to bob along the shores of my lake. The dim glow outlined the girl against a backdrop of the stone arches that supported the ceiling of the underground ocean. I sometimes tried to imagine those pesky structures away, so that I might pretend that my rowboat was the Vanora, and that I had returned to the sea.

Yet I dismissed my fanciful dreams with growing unease as the chit began to draw near to my abode. There was only a worn door imbedded in the rock to suggest any sort of dwelling, but I could not allow her to come upon it. Who knew (quite literally) what sort of trouble she might bring to my doorstep?

Though she was unsteady on the glistening rocks under her slippered feet, she had nearly managed to walk half of the shore line of my lake while I daydreamed. I wanted to slap myself for being lost in thought for such a ridiculous amount of time, especially when I had something more important to do … such as protecting my identity.

Franticly, I rummaged about my mind for some way to stop her. She was within mere yards of seeing the entrance to my kingdom when I finally did the only thing that came to mind.

Throwing my voice in a desperate attempt to shift her attention, I sent a loud 'crack' to the other side of the water.

How was I to know that the stupid girl would loose her footing?

Author's Notes: Sorry again about the wait and the short chapter. (growls in frustration) Education … what can you do?

So, guesses on what's coming up?

Did you like my brief glimpse into Eric with a C's past? Trust me, there is more where that came from. And I am definitely not basing his past on Kay's book, as I have not read it. Eric's past here is my own warped creation. As for the pirate thing, I know it sounds a bit odd at first (or second … or third) glance, but if you want my justification, look in Leroux's novel.

Late in the book, while the dargoa is trapped in the mirror room I think, he mentions that Eric is somehow connected to the Tonkan pirate, De Tham, and it has something to do with the trick of the reeds. So I say it is not completely unbelievable that Eric had something to do with them at one point in his poor, poor little life. Oh, and don't go thinking that De Tham is some sort of niceity nice father figure for Eric, cause he's not … more on Eric's nutty mother, De Tham, Mitra, Azadeh, and something really creepy about Eric's dad later on in the story … but till then you can only wonder, ponder, and stew.

Muahaha.

But seriously, send me any guesses!

Tigger- Oui, ominous. Is this ominous enough? (lighting and thunder effects from a cheesy horror fic roll in the background as she cackles madly)

Empress Kipper- Hah! Eric and his check list had me laughing so hard, because part of me was actually considering putting something like that in this chapter at first. Unfortunately, I ended up changing it, cause I didn't want to add humor to a serious chapter. It may come up later though… The alien thing made me laugh too, and I have not really been in love yet either, so I guess we'll both have to watch out for that one.

JPT- I too am decidedly 'old fashioned', though it has more to do about my faith in God then my sense of history. :D You really did like that line about the nudity, didn't you? I am seriously going to have to put a scene in this story that involves Eric streaking in the lair. Fun for all the readers! (and the writer I might add) As for the mouse in the pocket, that is what I thought it was supposed to mean, but a little while ago, I heard someone use the term 'pocket mouse' to indicate a guy's … erm … family jewels.