Author´s notes: This is the confrontation scene, thus what you´ve been waiting for since you found out Christine was in Persia. I hope it´s realistic, because I didn't want Erik to be fluffy in this chapter. Actually, I don't want him to be fluffy in any chapter, since he´s not supposed to be fluffy. This is Kay´s Erik, people – cynical, mysterious, with murderous instincts… and, let´s face it, drop-dead sexy. So no, he´s not supposed to be fluffy.

Enrinye – here you go!

Mominator - here you go!

Mina - here you go!

Sandra - here you go!

Moonjava - here you go!

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Chapter XIV

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If there were any other people around them, preferably people who took good notice of their surroundings, they would probably be very surprised to see the strange scene before them, a true masquerade, where only two knew just how think the web of events that was closing in around them was.

Still they held hands, facing each other, silent, motionless.

One was gathering all the remaining courage and boldness that was trying to flee from a weakening grasp. Never before, not even during perilous times or life-affecting moments, though there were few of them, was she faced with such a situation. She didn't know if she should turn and run, no matter where, simply run as fast as she could and, hopefully, hide somewhere far away or stay and confront things head-on.

The other was mildly amused by her reaction on one hand, on the other, a feeling of possessiveness was threatening to take over. It was what kept him from releasing her again, as would be proper and respectful. The eyes he was looking at were wide and fearful, almost pleading, but most of all, they flashed with recognition and uncertainty. Clearly, reality had just returned to take over her thinking again. A chance to destroy much was at hand… and he didn't use it.

Did she think he would use it? Probably yes. But the fascinating concept of ruining what seemed to be a perfect engagement between her and the boy had its drawbacks. One, it would affect his position, which wasn't his current interest, not before finishing his work on the palace. Two, the five words she had uttered ever since they had met were simply not enough to tell him what he wanted to find out. And three, in a war of one, perhaps two, if she wouldn't resent him, against a country, their chances of victory were somewhat slight.

The grasp on her creamy skin weakened and Christine pulled her hand back. It felt as if she were a child that tried to see if she could touch fire and got her hand burned, badly. Contrary to the coldness Raoul felt after being released, she felt flames. The single questionable thing was whether it was because of his touch or the furious blush that must have appeared on her face, forcing her to look away again.

At last, the burning eyes moved away from her, because the shah chose that moment to speak. Or it seemed that way to both Erik and Christine, for neither had been really paying attention to whatever was happening around them in the past few minutes. Erik's guess was that, because of the shah's obvious need to impress people, the king would start rambling about his importance to the monarchy and the wonders he created. As usual, his guess was precise.

"…after hearing such a tale, who would believe it, especially when it came from a common trader?" the shah was asking. Raoul nodded after hearing the translation, but the story progressed without a pause. "But, nevertheless, if such a man existed, his talents were greatly wasted in Russia, as I'm sure you'll agree. Thus I had our resident daroga – chief of police, you probably haven't heard the term before – go search for him. As you can see, successfully, and they even managed to create and maintain a semi-friendly relationship, to my knowledge, do correct me if I'm wrong, Erik." The shah turned to him, secretly pleased with his own hidden interrogation.

Erik shook his head. "Nadir Khan did all you ordered, your majesty." he noted simply.

"Yes, indeed." the shah commented. He then proceeded to explain all the major things Erik had constructed, designed or planned for the rebuilt Tehran, the services he had offered the shah and the khanum, the tricks and magic he had shown them during feasts, what would be created in the future and so on.

Raoul was fascinated. Anyone who would see the degree of his interest now would compare him to a young boy who had been brought to a circus and had seen the first tricks of a famous magician, and was most eager to see the rest of the performance. The only thing he was still unsure about was why the man he had been introduced to chose to cover his face with a mask. In February, during a masquerade ball, he would make nothing of it – all would be masked, naturally – but now, in the middle of summer, he was bewildered by the sight.

His mind debated whether or not he should ask about it. In the end, he decided against it. It could offend the man in some way and the last thing the Vicomte wanted was to insult the shah's favorite. Besides, there was something deep within the man's eyes that disturbed him. As if there was some deep-rooted, primal loathing there… at least he saw it when Erik looked at him, or he thought it did. The eyes alone were, if you will, eye-catching. Gold was an unusual color, to say at least. He had to admit, though, that it was one of the least unusual details about the man – Erik, he reminded himself.

Again, that surprised him. The shah made no mention of a last name and Erik didn't bother correcting him. Travels, he remembered, were a good reason for not seeing his family often. But surely the man knew his own last name! Even orphans knew who they were, most of them were aware of their parents´ names as well. Or perhaps the man knew his name, but didn't wish to remember it. Yes… that made perfect sense. A bad childhood wasn't something people liked to remember. If he didn't even want to hear the surname, let alone bear it, it must have been dreadful indeed.

Was it the mask? Raoul frowned inwardly. Its true purpose was still unknown to him, but as he began thinking about it with less of his attention focused on the feeling of fascination, he seemed to understand. He had seen deformities – who hadn't? – but imagined that if such a theory was correct, no parent would have love for such a misfortunate child.

These evaluations were one of the primary reasons why he missed the glances, the fear, the anticipation, all that had passed between the tall, dark man and the trembling girl standing next to him, who took care not to touch anyone, lest she would reveal the ripples of confusion and emotion passing through her body.

"A most unusual story, your majesty." the Vicomte noted afterwards, "I daresay I envy your determination. I suppose I wouldn't have gone this far to confirm the words of a trader, especially words that would seem so far-fetched to me. But I will take your word for it. You will have to show me some of your magic someday, Monsieur." he added to Erik, "I am most curious about it, especially if your talent matches the enormity of the tales I've heard."

For a long moment, Erik simply looked at the boy, until Raoul felt almost uncomfortable under the intense gaze. His pride, however, refused to allow him to look away. But he didn't deny the desire to do so. Then, Erik nodded slowly, speaking once more with polite indifference, but the tone was obviously cooler than before.

"Gladly, Monsieur le Vicomte." The temptation to add the statement that he would gladly perform a disappearing trick on him was strong. Truly, that was one trick he wouldn't mind showing the Vicomte de Chagny, even at the immediate moment.

"Splendid." Turning to Christine, he smiled. "Would you enjoy that, Christine?" he didn't even wait for the reply. "I told you that our stay would be wonderful, Little Lotte."

Pushing back a disbelieving stare, Christine nodded, now almost nervous in appearance. "Yes, Raoul." Her last strength was used to force her gaze to return to Erik, in one last show of defiance and will. "Thank you for your kindness, Monsieur." Strength fled traitorously, even quicker than she imagined and, like Raoul, she found herself wishing that she didn't have the boldness to look back at Erik.

Erik returned his attention to her and if anyone would be paying much closer attention, they would see the coolness of his demeanor lift slightly. Truth to be told, the joke was still amusing, but now that he saw Christine on the edge of psychical resignation and surrender, he decided that she had been tormented by the reunion more than she deserved, scared more than he intended to frighten her.

Glancing at her ringless hand for a moment, the remnants of hostility were retreating. He nodded politely, without saying a word. By this time, however, Raoul noticed that even for a woman of Scandinavian origin, Christine was too pale and certainly somewhat too timid. Chirpiness, one of her wonderful personality traits, was gone. Was it simply still a state of exhaustion from the journey? Or perhaps…

"Christine, are you alright?" he inquired, receiving a simple nod in response. His concern grew, because he realized that she probably wasn't used to the sheer heat around them yet. "Is it the heat? Are you feeling well?"

That came as a welcome excuse, Christine decided. She wouldn't get a second chance to get away from this and she had absolutely no idea when her last self-control would vanish, other than the knowledge that it would be very, very soon, especially, if the hypnotic gaze would remain fixed upon her.

"I am a little dizzy, Raoul. It's nothing, just a slight headache." she assured him when concern appeared on his face. "From the heat, I suppose. I am unused to so warm a climate, thus such things are not to be unexpected. I will get over it, but I could probably use a walk."

"Will you find your way?" the Vicomte still seemed unsure of the rightness of the idea of letting her wander around the gardens alone, but when he saw the look on her face that dared him to argue with her, he resigned and chose not to object.

"The palace is nearby and I remember where the entrance is. Besides, I prefer exploring on my own. The servants know who I am and with this," she motioned to her pale complexion, "I really stand out here, so they can't mistake me for anyone."

Raoul, still glancing at her with doubts, managed a nod. The interpreter had already translated most of the dialogue to the shah, so there was no real surprise when a suggestion was flung at them, a convenient, outrageous, mortifying suggestion, from three points of view.

"Perhaps you would care to accompany the mademoiselle, Erik?" the shah noted suddenly. The reasons for such a suggestion were alien to two of the people standing nearby, but Raoul seemed to think it was a good idea.

"I would feel better if you would, Monsieur. Christine, while she no doubt has spirit, is still too precious to me not to arouse concerns at the thought of allowing her to get lost in these vast gardens."

The frantic look on Christine's face went mostly unnoticed, her attempts to object – silently, because she didn't really find any logical statement against that without exaggerating or making the situation seem far more suspicious than it already was, which, for the record, to her, seemed nearly impossible – were silenced completely a moment later.

"Of course, Monsieur." Erik noted smoothly, "I shall see to the safety of Mademoiselle Daaé, do not worry for her anymore."

"Excellent. I am in your debt, sir."

Christine didn't hear anymore. Or rather, she didn't register anymore. Vaguely, she thought she saw Raoul taking and squeezing her hand for a moment, wishing her a swift recovery from the change of climate. Before she knew it, Raoul, the shah, the interpreter – all of them – were gone, leaving the pair standing in a more than awkward silence.

"The gardens are this way, Mademoiselle." The entrancing voice reached her again, as hypnotic as ever. Abandoned, lonely, and no longer able to resist, no longer willing to defend herself against anything, especially not a call so strong, Christine felt herself nod in despair and began walking in the direction she had been shown.

A step behind her, Erik drifted after her like a shadow. All had transpired a bit too quickly, but he wasn't ungrateful for the opportunity. It was almost like taking a prisoner to a walk out of their cell – Christine was in a trance, mixed despair and weary resignation radiating from her, obediently doing exactly what he instructed her to do. They walked in silence until they almost reached the center of the gardens, where Christine stopped, closing her eyes tightly.

"Please stop this." she whispered, her voice choked.

"Stop what?" the soft question reached her, only confirming her feeling of near-hypnosis.

All of this."

"I am doing nothing, Mademoiselle."

Her eyes almost darted open, but they were anguished rather than angry. "You lie."

"If you are so able to tell apart truth and lies, Mademoiselle, you should be in politics. This country is in dire need of someone who with such an ability, as is probably every other land on this earth." Erik replied dryly, "Then again, I doubt the bureaucracy would appreciate that."

Almost wildly, she spun around, facing him. "Why?" she asked, "Why…? How…? I…" she ran her hands through her hair, sighing loudly, "I… I don't know what to say…"

"There is nothing to say, Mademoiselle." Erik noted coolly, "The past is in the past, and the future Vicomtesse de Chagny surely has no need to associate herself with… suspicious individuals, if you will. Am I not correct?" Her shudder at the sound of the title didn't go unnoticed.

"So you have heard…" she whispered.

"I would safely assume that there is no one in the radius of a few miles who hasn't. Your precious fiancé is rather fond of announcing the fact, is he not? Not that he has no right to be proud of it." he noted, more quietly, before raising his voice once more, "Then again, it is a bit embarrassing that a wealthy gentleman couldn't buy his chosen a proper engagement ring."

Christine felt herself blush furiously. The damned ring! She knew she should have agreed to pick one, but like with the necklace, the variety of engagement rings she had been shown were pompous, thick, and the word bejeweled was a gross simplification of their appearance. How she would have preferred a simply golden band, with no gemstones! Unfortunately, Raoul would have none of it. His Little Lotte would have only the best, he insisted.

Now, this vanity was proving very disadvantageous for her. Her gaze dropped for a moment, but the redness of her cheeks wouldn't disappear. "Or has he forgotten about such a petty detail?" Erik noted, triumphantly ironical.

"For a person who knows that I despise new levels of pathetic and pompous overdone designs, you seem to have misjudged my taste in jewelry." She noted, fighting back timidity.

Whatever hope the ringless hand brought was ultimately crushed. So she wasn't denying anything. It was true, the ultimate decision had been made and the illusion of hope would be corrected as soon as they would find something suitable to Christine's tastes. There was no display of emotion for Christine to see, other than the few rushes of emotion of temporary length. But her ability to determine emotion through them seemed to have diminished or his control over revelations of such clues had grown over the years.

"I should be congratulating you for a happy engagement, Mademoiselle." The tone definitely implied he believed the contrary.

"Please call me Christine." she noted quietly, "Years may have passed and events may have transpired, changing us both, but you have never lost the right to use that name to address me."

"It wouldn't be proper, Mademoiselle." Was the stern reply. "Not any longer. We both have our duties here and we are no longer innocent children­. I never was an innocent child and you are also past the days of naivety. Effectively, we managed to suggest that we knew nothing of each other before the present day. It would be best if we would keep it like that." His lips curled into a cynical smile. "It seems that your wish for a fairytale has come true, Mademoiselle. Your prince had come. What need is there for a monster to reenter your life?"

He was gone before she could open her mouth to object, before he could notice her silent tears.