To those of you who preread: this has changed. Please read again (or reread the ending)

Noir39

Mr. Desai's carriage bumbled along the winding road, each jolt rousing Erik, who released a labored groan of protest.

"Stay still, my son," Sanjeev whispered. "We're almost to the port in Gao. I can see the ships from here."

Erik had slept for two days, rendered senseless by the pain, kept lethargic by the fever that had overtaken him before Ari and Sanjeev had found him tied to a tree. With each hour his condition worsened, the open wounds blistering and draining constantly.

"Where is she?" Erik asked. His breathing was shallow, his voice trembling with each word.

"Rest," Mr. Desai replied.

He couldn't rest. He couldn't think of anything but Corinna and how much he never wanted her to see what happened to him. Before the Sultana left him for dead she told him that she wouldn't kill him. If fate willed it he would live, and she hoped he would live a long and miserable life, as no woman would ever look upon him again.

The Sultana had pried his left eye open with her long fingernails and showed him a mirror in the palm of her hand, forcing him to gaze at his own terrible reflection.

Horror swept through him as he had stared back at himself, at the melted flesh, the blistered, reddened skin. His eyebrow had been burned completely off, as had the hair along his hairline. His eyelashes were gone, his nose misshapen, his upper lip burned from the center to the right corner.

With the image seared into his mind, Erik inquired again, fearing Corinna would see what he had become.

"Where is Corinna?"

Erik strained to open his eyes, but the carriage was too dark to see anything. He gripped the cushion and arched his back, struggling to sit upright against the bruises and lacerations across his back.

"Quiet now, Mr. Levesque. She's right beside you," Mr. Desai answered.

"No," Erik protested. He reached for his face, his fingers hovering above his tender flesh. "No, don't let her look."

A hand gripped his wrist, a small, feminine hand.

"I don't care about what happened," she whispered, her breath hot against the left side of his face.

She sniffled once and started to sing, her voice a low, sweet sound that only he could hear. For a moment he listened, surprised by her voice, finding comfort in the sound of the Hindi song she sang.

In his mind he pictured her face twisted, contorted in pity and horror of the beast she sang to him in the darkness. He envisioned tears streaming down her face as she turned away, appalled by this creature she had once found handsome and worthy of her affection.

His was the face of a man who designed torture chambers, a man accused of raping and stealing a young woman.

Corinna deserved better.

"Don't touch me," he demanded, prying her hand away.

"Erik, please…" Corinna cried.

"Stop the carriage," he said through his teeth, tightening his stomach and forcing himself upright.

"Lay still," Mr. Desai urged. "We'll have you on the ship soon enough."

"No," he wheezed. Pain roared through him and his stomach churned. "No, I want to leave now."

"You're not strong enough," Mr. Desai said as he gripped Erik's shoulder. "You'll kill yourself."

Erik's body slumped forward, his momentum stopped by Mr. Desai and Mr. Nadir catching him by the arms.

"Tell her to forget me," he whispered before he lost consciousness.

Erik shook the memory from his mind as he tied his robe and toweled water out of his hair.

There was a lawn shirt and clean trousers laying on the double bed when he walked into the bedchamber. He shed his robe, feeling the warmth from the fireplace engulf him as he dried himself and dressed.

Once his trousers were buttoned he examined his living quarters, taking notice of the fresh roses on the dresser and a small black satin box with a red bow tied around it. A small note card bearing his name was propped against the mirror.

Erik,

The box is for you. I will meet you at the end of the hall when you are dressed. If you wish to rest, there are pajamas in the top drawer. I will return for you at dinnertime.

Corinna

He held her note for a moment, reading the words over and over, running his finger along the lines and her name. With a wry smile he placed it on the dresser top and opened the satin box.

The ribbon fell from his fingers and his jaw went slack as he stared into the box. He swallowed hard as he plucked the skull-shaped cufflinks from the box and studied them for a moment.

They were flawless, polished to perfection and smiling back at him with sinister grins. He had forgotten that he bought them when he first came to India. The skull had become his moniker in the years he ruled the opera house with terror. His feelings were mixed when he studied the small pieces of brass.

With a ragged sigh, Erik turned to retrieve his shirt and found Corinna standing in the doorway with her hands behind her back.

"How did you find them?" he asked as he placed the cufflinks back inside the box and walked toward the bed.

She met him in the center of the room, her head turned to the side. "I took them from your room," she answered, her voice low. "It was a long time ago, but I remember putting them in one of the tubes with your artwork when...when you disappeared."

Erik studied her face for a moment but said nothing. Her eyes were no longer painted, her lips no longer stained. Over the years she had aged, but her face was still that of the young woman he first met in London. The sight of her gave him shivers, and for a moment he wondered if he had dreamed his hellish existence.

A glance in the mirror reaffirmed his dread. He had become a monster, both inside and out.

In silence he threaded one arm through the shirtsleeve and stopped, feeling Corinna's hand along his bare arm. She squeezed his bicep gently, her thumb caressing his right arm inches above an old scar.

Her fingers moved with grace and traced along the scar, slowly drawing a line up to his shoulder where the burn marks scattered across his flesh like stars through the night sky.

Erik held his breath and watched her closely, waiting for the curiosity in her gaze to fade and for repulsion to stain her expression.

She pressed her lips to his bare shoulder and he closed his eyes, feeling her long hair brush against his arm. His hand slowly lifted from his side and settled in the middle of her back, drawing her into a gentle, soothing embrace.

"I hated you for a long time," she whispered against his shoulder. "I hated you for leaving."

Erik nodded, pulling her closer, feeling her hands grip tighter to his upper arms.

"Why did you do it?" she asked quietly.

For years Erik had known he had done the wrong thing. The moment he stumbled aboard the ship with Ari Nadir, he had wanted Corinna by his side. Pushing her away had only added to his bitterness, to his anger, to the hopelessness he had felt growing inside with each year that passed.

"I didn't want you to see this," he answered, turning his face from her.

"I've been searching for you," she replied. "For twelve years I've searched every corner of Europe, asked every person I've seen if they knew you, if they knew where..."

"You should have married," he said softly. He boldly moved his hand up and down the length of her spine, feeling the warmth of her body against his palm and the silkiness of her hair against his knuckles.

"There was a wedding arranged," she told him. "My father's brother found a nice man, twenty years older than me and quite wealthy. I met him twice and he was a good man."

All he wanted was for her to be happy, but deep inside he dreaded hearing her say she was married and had children. He hated himself for his selfishness, for wanting her to belong to him when he had asked her to forget him.

"Were you happy together?" he asked, his fingers raking through her perfumed hair.

"No," she admitted. "Two days before our wedding I left for France."

His knees weakened at her revelation, his hand falling away from her. Corinna looked at him a moment and nodded toward the bed, telling him to sit.

"I couldn't marry him," she said as she sat beside him. "He was good to me, but I wasn't in love with him. In time perhaps I would have felt differently, but I knew….I knew if I looked for you, I would find you."

Erik merely nodded, uncertain of how to respond to her words and astonished that she was sitting beside him on his bed. He wanted to touch her, to take her by the hand and sit with her forever, but he also wanted more. He had lain dormant for too many years. The Goddess had given life to a sleeping seed, kindled a desire that grew with each heartbeat.

Corinna leaned forward and ran her fingers over the backs of his hands. "I knew I would find you. If I searched long enough I would find you. And now I've found you," she said.

She sat on her knees and looked him in the eye before gently kissing his left cheek. She moved in closer as his hands gripped her hips, holding her as she kissed the right side of his face. He shuddered at her gesture, drawing in a sharp breath before her lips found his.

They lowered to the bed together, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, neither one willing to let go of the intimate embrace.

A rush of memories flooded Erik's mind. He remembered what it felt like to kiss her in the parlor long ago. Kissing her again was like waking from a dream and being able to return to sleep again and continue the pleasantness.

Her hand ran down his arm, along his ribs and up to his chest where it came to rest over his heart. The kiss deepened and she moved her hips forward, pressing her body to his as they lay on their sides.

There was nothing rushed, nothing urgent in their kisses or soft caresses. After a while Corinna lifted her hand and held it to left side of his face. His eyes opened and he found her smiling at him, her eyes half-opened, her face flushed.

"Rest," she whispered to him. "I will be here when you wake."

Erik kept her close to him once she draped a blanket over their bodies. He closed his eyes as she snuggled up against his chest, feeling her warm breaths on his bare skin and her lips planting small kisses from the middle of his chest to his shoulders.

"I love you," he whispered as he embraced her, as he held her to him as though he feared she would disappear. "I've always loved you, always. I've thought about you constantly," he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head and her forehead and her eyelids until his lips kissed tears. "You are my…"

She kissed him on the lips before he could call her a Goddess, before he could give her a title that no longer held sway over their lives.

"Why?" he asked.

Her answer was another kiss.

Erik looked into her eyes, into the dark orbs pooling with tears. She raked her fingers through his hair and gently caressed his ear. Words were useless. He knew why she had done it, why she had appeared to him as a Goddess.

He had fallen too far. He would not have come to her, the woman he longed to see again, the kindness he no longer deserved. It was the only way, and they both knew it.

"I loved you," Corinna whispered. "From the moment you first touched my hand in London. That will never change."

He kissed her, longer and deeper than before, his insides surging with an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy. For the first time in too many years he felt safe and secure.

For the first time in his life he felt hopeful and able to love.