Um, I forgot to do this before, but my story is divided into parts. This is part One (obviously). And I shall give it a name.

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:PART ONE: ISOBEL :

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Thankee readers for wonderful support! Hope you like!

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It was snowing. The flakes twirled through the air like ballerinas in the middle of a pirouette. They caressed Adrian's cheek with their biting kiss before melting from the warmth of her face.

Unlike the children laughing and shouting and trying to catch the flakes on their tongues, Adrian was not enjoying the snow. And she had an excuse. With snow, there is cold, and without gloves, Adrian's hands were suffering.

"But that's why I'm here" she thought resolutely, pulling a shawl she had borrowed from the prop department a little tighter around her.

"I'm here to find out how long I have to keep starving for a pair of gloves. And when I get back, I'll take a nice, long, hot bath. And a nap"

It was Saturday, Adrian's first day off. She had got up later than her usual ungodly hour, dressed, found the shawl and was now heading down the shopping district in search of a pair of gloves. She was relishing the time to herself after yesterday.

She clenched her jaw a little.

Yesterday...

Yesterday, Sir Charles had arrived. Mlle. DeFleurette had demanded her corset tighter and her makeup more copious for the occasion. The diva was as fidgety as a cat on a hot tin roof, and only made Adrian's job more difficult.

Then came the long expected knock on the door.

"Come i-in!" said the mistress in a singsong voice.

An Adonis stepped through the door. His golden hair was long and curled like a child's, and his sun-browned skin made his blue eyes seem to sparkle. All together, a thoroughly handsome man.

But then his full lips curled into a smile, and the illusion was gone. As white as his teeth were, his smile was ugly. The Adonis had been exposed a Nero. He was exactly like most young noblemen; a spoiled brat who would chase anything wearing a skirt. He and Mlle. DeFleurette were a perfect match.

"Charley!" squealed the diva, and she ran to embrace him. After a long kiss, the lovebirds went to sit on the couch to coo at each other. Adrian was all too happy when they sent her to the Opera house kitchens for refreshments.

The sum of money Sir Charles had given her was more than enough to pay for wine, and with the bottle and change in hand, Adrian made her way back upstairs.

She was about to knock on the door, when she heard something. It was a rather indecent rustling sound punctuated by deep breathing and giggles (I'm sure you can guess what it was).

So, she turned and walked down the hall to wait. It made her sick to her stomach to think of what was going on inside.

When she returned, the sounds had stopped, and she entered to find a blushing and disarrayed diva and Sir Charles, looking hungrily at the woman next to him as a cat does to a mouse. Suddenly, he turned toward Adrian. His eyes wore a lustful, excited expression, and Adrian felt her gorge rise. He looked as if he would pounce on her any minute, and the feeling it gave Adrian was one of horror.

Luckily , Sir Charles turned back to his companion on the love seat before she noticed his attentions had been elsewhere. Adrian poured wine into two crystal glasses and handed them to the lovers who toasted each other and drank them down. As the glasses were lowered, the diva parted her lips rather sensuously, and began to say something in a breathy voice. Then, she seemed to remember that Adrian was standing there.

"Mlle. Cartier, since your workshift is almost over anyway, how about you take the rest of the day off?"

Since the prospect of watching the diva and her company become gradually drunker and drunker and eventually doing something indecent on the couch did not suit Adrian at all, she was all too happy to leave.

And now it was the next day, and for the next forty hours (she got up at eight) Adrian would be free of her employer and Sir Charles.

Adrian bit her lip nervously. Sir Charles posed a threat. Since he could find most of what he wanted to know about Adrian's hours from his mistress, Adrian herself would be a relatively easy target. He could ambush her as she left work, or even if Mlle. DeFleurette left the room for a few moments. The way he had looked at her both puzzled her and filled her with disgust. She was not as pretty or shapely as most of the other girls in the Opera house who would be more than happy about the attentions of such a wealthy man. He was a puzzle as pleasant to open as an occupied coffin.

These dark thoughts on her mind, Adrian opened the door of a small shop and entered, unaware that she was being watched.

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Erik was thankful for the cold. It was easier to wear his mask on days like that, and in such weather his heavy black cloak was not out of place. He had been on his way back from Jules's, and on noticing Adrian decided to follow her.

When she stopped inside a small store selling clothing, he marked the name in his mind: Madame Belle's Boutique.

He reviewed what he knew of the store as he waited for Adrian to exit. It was a place that sold low priced clothing to the middle classes. The store's wares were not of remarkable quality, and were rumored to be stolen. He would stop by later to ask the clerk what a certain lady had bought or inquired about. This would give him an idea of what sort of gift he should give her.

After Adrian exited the shop, he followed as she made her way back to the Opera house. He was slightly puzzled by her attire. The dress she wore was a dark chestnut color, and while the high collar and long sleeves were suited for the weather, the fabric by itself was much to thin to withstand the cold, and the shawl she wore did little to relieve it.

Suddenly, a small woman with stern gray eyes stopped her. It was Madame Bufont. She was smiling.

"Why Adrian, I haven't seen you in such a long while! I have missed you. M. Wagner and I were just about to go to lunch."

Erik noticed a large bear of a man come up behind Madame Bufont.

"Frauline Cartier! I vas afraid I vould see your beautiful face never again! Please, you vould insult me if you did not let me treat you to lunch! You will come, yes?"

Adrian paused, obviously thinking something over.

"Yes, I would be happy to go to lunch with you."

The trio set off down the street towards a small cafe, and disappeared inside. Erik followed them at a safe distance and sat at a table within hearing distance. He pricked his ears for the sound of their voices. Hearing a conversation between Adrian and people she appeared to trust would tell him a bit more about her personality. He remember that the same trick had worked with Christine. In the morning, he watched how she behaved when Meg was around, and then later he knew what sorts of things he could say to make her feel at home and eventually draw her closer.

"-haf you been getting along Frauline?"

The voice was Wagner's. Erik rather liked the big man. He was attentive to his job, not his pretty female workers. He had artistic sense, but also a head for business. Perfect for his position.

"Fine, thank you."

A waiter came to the table to take their orders. There was a shuffling of menus.

"Vat do you suggest, Louis?"

The waiter, obviously well aquainted with M. Wagner suggested the Duck au l'Orange with white wine sauce.

"M. Wagner, for you, I will give discount."

"How generous, Louis! Und also uncommon. I haf been coming here for years und as far as I know, you haf never given even half a franc of discount! You are not drunk, are you?"

The waiter laughed with M. Wagner, and explained that he had been promoted to headwaiter, and wanted to celebrate. There were congratulations from around the table, and the waiter went off.

"So Adrian, how have you been lately?"

Madame Bufont had spoken up.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

Adrian's voice, while not icy, was still guarded.

"Come now, you must tell me how you are bearing up to that obnoxious peacock you work for!"

Adrian sighed.

"Well, I suppose she's not unlike anyone else I've worked for. She's childish, spoiled, lazy. And her beaux is worse. He gets drunk whenever he comes to court her, and I don't like the way he eyes me when she isn't looking. All together, a most infuriating couple."

Erik enjoyed hearing her talk. Her voice was oddly soothing, like the sound of rain on the roof; soft and exact. He had to wonder what it sounded like when she was happy. Obviously she liked the two sitting at the table with her. As she spoke, her voice seemed to relax slightly.

They chatted for a while about the Opera house business, till the food came.

The smell that rose from the dishes was wonderful. The spices in the wine sauce mixed with the air to create a perfume that was rich and exotic. There were sounds of thanks, and then a clink of cutlery signified that the meal had begun.

A waiter had made his way to Erik's table. When asked what he wanted, Erik said he wasn't hungry any more and walked out of the restaurant. From outside, he caught a glimpse of the trio he had been eavesdropping on. From this angle, Adrian's face seemed oddly hollow, as if she hadn't eaten for some time. There was a ravenous glint in her eyes like that of a starving animal. Well, it wasn't surprising. The salary she worked on was probably too low to pay for a decent amount of food.

The snow had thickened. Clouds loomed over the city like great beasts ready to consume Paris, and the darkness and the cold became intense. It was a relief to step inside the warmth of Madame Belle's Boutique.

The faded blond stood at the counter picking her nails was probably going to spend the rest of her life working at the shop until a some loser came in and married her and she had a bunch of children who would grow up to be exactly like her and their loser father.

She jumped about a foot in the air when Erik entered the shop and tried to look busy. A quick enquiry revealed that Adrian had been looking for gloves, but had not bought them.

"Shall I wrap them Monsieur?"

"No, but here's something for your trouble."

The clerk stared at the considerable sum of money with absolute shock. When she looked up at the generous donor, he was gone.

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The fickle snow had diminished as Erik neared the Populaire. He was soon beneath the ground in the safety of his home.

So, she wanted a pair of gloves. He had noticed the way she rubbed her hands after being outside. The cold had probably gotten to her small hands quickly. Well Madame Belle's Boutique was not going to fulfill her need for warmth. Something he designed would be much more suitable.

He took a few pieces of paper from their shelf along with a charcoal stick. Her small palms and proportionately long fingers wouldn't fit a conventional design. And the gloves would have to be sturdy enough to withstand the cold, but supple enough to allow for movement.

After about a half-hour, he had perfected his design. The only step remaining would be to create them.

But his body itched for movement. He couldn't sit down for much longer without going insane.

Erik stood, stretched and walked over to his bedroom. There, in its smooth wooden case, gleamed his closest friend: his sword.

Lifting the beautiful creature from its velvet casing, Erik held it up to the light. The skull shaped hilt gleamed as if sculpted from diamond.

Carrying the sword in his hand as tenderly as a living thing, he made his way down one of the passageways that were as familiar and unfrightening to him as pathways in the park were to children.

After an hour of walking, the shadows began to take shape. Soon, it seemed that someone was following Erik with catlike grace. Both stopped and faced one another.

"En gaurde." Erik whispered, fierce amusement playing in his voice.

The fight had begun. The light and dark blades crossed with silent ferocity. Of course Erik's adversary was skilled; it was himself.

After what seemed like hours, the shadow began to weaken. Erik's muscles were bulging from the physical strain, but as the candlelight lost substance, his opponent did too. Finally, the light sputtered out, and the fight was over.

Erik quickly produced a book of matches and lit the candle that had been extinguished.

Fighting shadows was nowhere near as satisfying as battling a real opponent. It felt as if he was cheating somehow.

With a sigh Erik walked back to his home.

He peeled of his sweaty shirt and pulled on a robe, his thoughts turning to Adrian. She was built a bit like a swords woman. He could imagine her with a blade in her hand. A small fantasy began to take shape in his mind. Her braid whipped around her face like a flaming rope as her muscles flexed and twisted in perfect synchronicity with the blade she wielded.

Shaking his head at his foolishness, Erik sat in his chair before the fire.

There was not the slightest chance that she knew how to fence.

But maybe he could teach her.

Another tendril of thought began to take shape until it became...

Adrian was sitting on the couch, staring contemplatively into the lake. Instead of her usual high-necked dress, she wore a pair of black breeches and a billowy white blouse. She looked up at the sound of Erik's footsteps, and smiled.

They walked together down one of the back passages, and on reaching a spacious but bare room, they began to spar. She was wonderfully graceful, and obviously very happy with him.

With these last pleasant thoughts, Erik let his head nod forward. He was soon fast asleep.

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I am contemplating a rewrite of Chapter three. Be ready my friends! Buhby now!