Here you go everyone. Hope you like this newest chapter. It is a bit longer than the other ones. But oh well.

Chapter 15: Learning to Let Go

Erik sat quietly in the library, vainly trying to occupy himself with a good book. So far he was failing miserably at the task. Brittle winter sunlight slanted through the window on his left, warming his face and lighting the pages laid out upon his lap. He sighed with boredom as he flipped the book shut and placed it upon the table next to his chair.

Tapping his fingers upon the armrest, Erik slowly surveyed the room for the hundredth time that day. The library, like the rest of the house, was cozy and well appointed. Every item within the room had obviously been carefully selected and showed the keen good taste of the decorator.

Odd foreign knickknacks dotted the bookshelves, an oriental jade dragon sat proudly next to a fierce African mask and in one corner he was sure he saw a shrunken head. Intricate Persian rugs lay across the highly polished wooden floorboards, muffling every sound from the rest of the house and giving the room an odd sense of isolation. The furniture was surprisingly simple, lacking all the frivolous embellishments currently considered fashionable, and yet the clean unassuming design of the pieces were elegant nonetheless. He was sure none other than his fascinating hostess had been the mind behind the clean-cut, if eccentric, décor of the household. The woman didn't seem to have a trivial bone in her petite body.

Yes, the library was the perfect room to be alone in; it was his favorite room for this reason. Being a man used to solitude, Erik had found it frustrating to suddenly find himself tossed into the convoluted social interactions of the Donovan/Sinclair family. He was completely out of his element.

The siblings were as opposite in their personalities as they were in appearance - Conner shifting from fiery hot tempers to easy smiles in the blink of an eye, and Brielle serene and cool as a mountain pond until something broke her wintry exterior revealing the passion flowing just under the surface. Their opposing characteristics often set one or the other off into a railing tirade. Two to three times a day an argument would break out between the two, yet neither one ever seemed to actually be angry with the other. He had come to realize the fights were more of a game they liked to play, rather than a true display of frustration or fury. To put it simply, the people were absolutely mad.

Even worse than the incessant battles between Conner and Brielle were the unexpected displays of affection the siblings often shared. Erik had never been exposed to people who were more open with their fondness of each other. Every kiss on the cheek and playful swat one dealt to the other only served to enlighten him further on how families actually worked - and on how much he had missed out on in his lifetime. God, how he longed for such simple contact, the brush of a hand on his shoulder…

Or the feather soft pressure of delicate fingers brushing my lower lip, while soft gray eyes concentrate on removing the blood from my chin. Erik jerked to his feet, disconcerted, as the errant thought floated unbidden across his mind. It had been five days since Conner arrived in the household; the bruises of their first encounter had faded now to a pale yellow. It had been five days since Brielle had gently washed his face with her handkerchief and yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

The shock of her casual contact still thrummed through his blood every time he looked at her. The places where her bare fingers had brushed his jaw still burned from her touch. He suspected the girl had no idea how powerful even her slight stroke had been; in a way, he hated her for it - hated her for her effortless beauty and unintentional sensuality.

Erik had never known the tender touch of a woman until he had met Christine. At first their relationship had been strictly teacher and pupil. She hadn't even known he was real, he was her angel; at the time he liked it that way. But one day everything changed; one day he looked at his young student and was struck deaf, blind, and dumb by what he saw.

Christine's face had the fresh and young beauty of a girl, a face which sharply contrasted with the dark and knowing depths of her cinnamon eyes. She was a girl who knew she had a beauty that drew a man's eye; he now knew she longed for that attention in some secret part of her soul because she terribly missed the love her father once bestowed upon her. He filled that doting fatherly position for a long time, but eventually he couldn't help but notice the young woman who had replaced his student.

When that day came, when he saw her as a woman, he knew with a certainty that shook him to the core that his life had just been irrevocably changed by that mere slip of a woman. Oh how he had loved her, how he had lusted after her. And now it is over. Stop thinking about it like a love struck pup. I should have known better, he thought bitterly as he paced the room. Monsters are not meant to be loved. In the real world Beauty never chooses the Beast.

And even now, after all that had happened, his heart rebelled against this fact. And he remembered the fire burning through his blood at the brush of a lace lined handkerchief, the sight of kind gray eyes.

He shook himself violently, throwing off the unwanted thoughts. Damned if he would let lust cloud his eyes ever again. Damned if he would let another woman's frivolous heart turn him away, condemn him to his own personal hell, to a place where the sun had burned to ash and he lay screaming in the darkness.

A scowl soured his face as he stalked to the library door, throwing it open with too much force, no longer able to stand the silence of the room. As the echo of wood cracking against wood faded, his sensitive ears honed in on the wafting notes of piano music. The sure and confident notes indicated a skilled and practiced hand, yet at odd moments a sour note would sound, making him wince in response.

"Odd…" he murmured quietly, his dark brows drawing down over his wild blue eyes. "I was sure Brielle said she would be out for the rest of the afternoon. And her buffoon of a brother is still trying to repair the destruction from this morning."

The girl had said something about seeing to her duties at the nearby Veterans' hospital and left early that morning, leaving the household in the Conner's hands. A decision which once again caused Erik to seriously doubt the soundness of Brielle's sanity.

As soon as her snowy head had disappeared out the front door, utter chaos had erupted in the house. Erik had watched dumbfounded as a squealing Aria ran by the parlor door with a sheaf of loose paper gripped in one tiny fist over her head. As the child scampered down the hall, pieces of the paper in her hand fell free and scattered over the floor, leaving a trail in her wake. Seconds after the child had run by, Conner, bellowing at the top of his lungs, raced after the toddler trying to snatch at the paper in her hands. The red headed man stumbled over his own two feet and fell face first onto the floor. Laughing Aria had escaped into the next room, just ahead of Conner when he got to his feet.

At the time Erik couldn't help but smirk slightly at Conner's misfortune, though he hid the expression before anyone saw. He was just grateful he didn't have to race after the child. Her energy made him tired by just watching her (the fever's weakness still lingered in his limbs), but he had to admit that from a bystander's perspective the girl was a riot.

The morning had worn on like that, hours and hours of childish screaming and the sound of thundering feet echoing throughout the house. When he hadn't been able to stand it any longer he had retreated to the library - though he would never have admitted it was to hide from a three and a half year old terror.

Now that he thought about it though, the house had been rather quite for some time now. Except, of course, for the melancholy piano music issuing from the parlor now. He found himself slowly strolling towards the sound of the music; it had been so long since he had heard the sweet sound of chords blending together in perfect harmony that it drew him.

He stood outside the parlor door, one hand resting on the doorframe as he bent his head, listening to the melody drifting through the quiet of the house. Erik found himself unwilling to disrupt the lovely sounds. The song was low, mournful and vaguely familiar. Something stirred, then shifted back into place within him as the notes wafted through the air. Something he thought had died that last night at the Opera. The music in his mind began to play again, replacing the silence which his heart's agony had woven about his consciousness.

After several moments he straightened and quietly nudged open the parlor door, expecting to see Conner seated at the grand piano in the middle of the parlor. What he found instead shocked him into stillness.

The tiny figure seated before the keys barely took up a fourth of the bench's space. Small stockinged feet dangled over the pedals, unable to reach them and swinging in the air. Aria's chubby baby hands stretched as far as her fingers would allow; once again she missed a note, being unable to reach the proper keys. The delicate winter sun illuminated the child from behind, getting lost in the darkness of her hair.

Erik took a step into the room, unable to stop himself; the music pulled upon the very foundations of his soul. His foot landed upon a loose floorboard and a load groan issued from the offended wood. The music came to a crashing halt, ringing sourly in the sudden silence.

Large gray eye rose to meet his over the closed top of the piano. He felt odd with those eyes studying him so closely; they were Brielle's eyes. Aria slowly slid her hands from the ivory keys and folded them in her lap, instantly transforming from prodigy back into toddler.

"Hello Aria," he said quietly when the girl merely stared at him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as her mother often did. Erik frowned slightly, totally in the dark as to how to deal with a child.

When she stayed silent he tried again, taxing his already limited social skills. "I didn't know you could play the piano." He cleared his throat, oddly nervous being alone with the girl;(,) a silent part of his mind waiting, waiting for her to open her mouth and scream in terror because of his presence.

At his words, the solemn expression faded from her face. Aria flashed a shy grin his way. "I d-don't play very g-g-go…." The last word struggled to escape her mouth but seemed unable to work its way over her tongue. Giving up in frustration she clamped her teeth shut, color rising to stain her cheeks an angry red.

Something about the bleak cloud darkening her eyes touched him, breaking a tiny chink from the fortress about his heart. Before doubt could stop him, he crossed the room and sat down upon the piano bench next to the three year old.

"Now who in the world told you that? I thought you played wonderfully."

A moment passed as his words sunk in before Aria raised her eyes to his, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "L-Liar," she said quietly, as if afraid that one word wouldn't come out right. Successful, she barreled on. "M-My hands are t-too small!" she exclaimed, raising her tiny hands up before her face to demonstrate their size.

"And your feet don't reach the pedals either," he teased, shocked by how easy it was. He was secretly pleased when Aria smiled at him again, a dimple flickering momentarily in her left cheek. "But don't worry, in a few years none of that will be a problem anymore."

She pouted at that. "That is a l-long time!"

"Oh, you would be surprised how fast it actually is." She merely pursed her lips, skeptical.

The room settled into a comfortable quiet, the wind outside the windows murmuring against the frosted glass. Erik studied his hands folded in his lap, listening to the sounds of the house. For once not feeling pressed to think of something to say.

Suddenly Aria turned on the bench, one of her small hands reaching out to tug upon his sleeve. "D-Do you play any m-m-mus…" music. She clamped her traitorous mouth shut, looking up at him uncertainly, as if waiting for him to laugh.

Though his ears stung from the discord of her words, his face remained impassive. The gray eyed child relaxed once again when he made no comment on her speech. "Yes, I used to play some music."

"D-Do you play the p-piano?" she asked excitedly, her other hand coming around and gripping his sleeve.

He looked down at her hands fisted in the loose fabric of his shirt sleeve and found himself smiling. "Yes, I do play the piano."

"W-Will you play s-something? N-No one else ever p-plays with me!"

Erik lowered his eyes to the well used keys inches from his folded hands. The smile upon his face sobered slowly. Would he ever be able to play again now that he was without the one woman who had inspired him over the last few years? Would he be able to play without thinking of her?

Automatically his hands rose to rest lightly upon the cool piano keys, even as whispers of doubt bounced about his brain. Erik closed his eyes, the music in his mind quickly drowning out everything else. His fingers came down upon the keys, caressing the first note out of the instrument with an innate tenderness he rarely revealed.

He felt Aria still next to him, her hands sliding free of his sleeve, enthralled. God, he had almost forgotten how good it was to feel the give of ivory under his hand, to hear the sound of his own music ringing in his ears. Turning his head, he flashed a brilliant smile down at Aria and she grinned back at him.

Feeling giddy with the exhilaration he always felt while playing, Erik began shifting from song to song, his facial expression matching the tone of the music. Aria shrieked with delight when he drew his face into a dark leer, the music deepening, low notes pounding like a heartbeat. Suddenly he shifted to a light airy piece, his features matching pace with raised eyebrows and dramatic smile.

"Y-You are a funny m-man!" the child stuttered between giggles, her hands pressed to her cheeks in delight.

"You are the only person in the world who has ever thought me funny," he said with a smile.

"L-Liar," she responded, a chubby thumb rising to her mouth. Closing her eyes, Aria leaned her dark head against his side, shocking him into tense silence. "I l-like the w-way you talk," she sighed deeply, as only a child can. "It is s-smooth l-like mu-mu-music."

He sat stiffly, the slight pressure of a silky head upon his arm totally foreign to him. Finally Erik turned his head and looked down at the child snuggled up against his side, feeling for the first time in his life as if he was acceptable, as if he was not a monster after all. It felt good.

"Aria, have you ever had music lessons?" he asked her softly, his voice lowering to accommodate her suddenly gloomy mood.

"N-N-No."

"Why not? I am sure you would be even better if you did."

"I am too s-stupid to have l-lessons."

The instantaneous fury which erupted into his bloodstream at her words caught him off guard. Memories of taunts from his own childhood flickered across his mind. "Who told you that you were stupid?" he growled softly, blue eyes glittering dangerously.

She turned her head to stare up at him, startled by the tone of his voice. "Uncle Andrew d-d-did, he's D-Da's brother. H-He wants me to g-g-g-go a special s-school cause I t-talk s-slow." Her tiny face darkened suddenly. "It m-made M-Momma cry w-when he s-s-said that."

She scrambled up onto her knees cupping her little hand about his ear. "Uncle Andrew is a m-monster!" she whispered, as if it were a secret. "It w-was his fault D-Da was s-shot. AND he wants to m-marry M-Momma!"

Something about the last part of her whisperings irritated him even further. Especially since this Andrew character sounded like a damned ass. He just didn't like picturing someone low enough to call a child dumb going after Brielle. "Just because you speak slowly doesn't mean you are stupid," he stated firmly.

Aria smiled then. "T-That is what M-Momma says. She s-says that p-people aren't always w-what they s-s-seem to be."

"Your mother seems to be a very smart lady." Aria smiled at his words, forgetting her frustrations as only a child can, in the blink of an eye. "Has your mother ever tried to find you a teacher in order to help your speech?"

"Y-Yes, but they w-were mean l-like Uncle Andrew."

The inner workings of Erik's mind shifted into action, turning the thought forming in his brain over and over. "How would you feel if I offered to help you speak better?"

The child's ecstatic squeal erupted instantly from her lungs as the girl took hold of his shirt sleeve once more, bouncing up and down upon the piano bench till it shook. He momentarily marveled at the girl's complete lack of decorum. It was refreshing really, to not be treated with caution.

"I suppose that was an answer in the positive," Erik muttered sticking a finger in his ear, worrying that he would never hear again.

"T-Teach me something n-now!" the child whispered excitedly, but before Erik could reply, the creak of a loose floorboard announced the presence of another in the room.

"Why, don't the two of you look pretty as a picture," a smiling voice said from the doorway, startling the pair on the piano bench.

Erik slowly brought his gaze up until he caught Brielle's laughing gray eyes behind her shaded spectacles. She stood in the doorway, still clothed in a thick traveling cloak and black leather gloves, her sparkling white hair swept atop her head in a loose bun. When his gaze fell to her full lips, he quickly jerked his eyes back to the piano keys. She had an enticing mouth, especially when she smiled like she was now.

He quickly noticed that despite her light expression and bantering words the woman was bone tired - though her eyes remained soft with warm affection as they settled on her daughter and him. And, just for a moment, a haunted sadness dimmed the sparkle in her gaze.

Speaking out of the corner of his mouth he slowly removed Aria's tiny hands from his arm. "Perhaps another time, child." He let the openness of his expression cool, his guard quickly reinstating itself under Brielle's gaze.

"Good afternoon Brielle. Did you have a sufficiently rewarding time at the hospital?"

The woman merely shook her head, too tired to rise to the barb hidden in his voice. "No, but that is neither here nor there. Thank you for looking after Aria. You didn't have to. Conner always keeps his eye on her. Even when he is cleaning up his messes."

Erik shrugged off her thanks as Aria hopped off the stool and skipped over to her mother. "M-Momma Mr. Erik c-can play the p-piano!"

"Can he then? My, won't Uncle Conner be happy to hear that?"

"Y-Yes! Can I go t-tell him!"

"Yes, you may." And with that the girl disappeared through the door, calling out for her Uncle. Erik and Brielle suddenly found themselves tossed into a strained, almost electric silence.

He watched as the woman took a deep breath and advanced into the room. Erik raised his chin defiantly, ready for the condemnation he would receive for getting to close to the child. When Brielle sank onto the piano bench beside him he tensed. He didn't like her being so close, it made him feel oddly warm all over.

Erik watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, unable to stop himself from appreciating the loveliness of her profile. He felt his expression sour as his lips drew tight over his teeth. Brielle, almost as if sensing his unrest, turned her head towards him then and took off her shaded glasses.

"You play very well," she began her voice unsure, obviously skirting the issue she wished to address. Any second now she is going to ask me to leave for getting to close to the kid.

"I always thought you had the hands of a musician," she said quietly. When Brielle gently took one of his hands in hers, Erik was stunned to the very core of his being.

"Thank you," Brielle whispered quietly, her voice just barely kept from breaking. Her grip on his hand was gentle.

"For what?" he sputtered, becoming disturbed when he caught sight of tears swimming in Brielle's lovely eyes.

"Forgive me; I was eavesdropping upon your conversation." She turned her head until he only could see the curve of one cheek. "Thank you for being so kind to my daughter, for treating her fairly. She usually doesn't even talk to people she doesn't know well. It frustrates her so and people can be so cruel. But I heard her speaking to you. Heard you offering to help her speak better…" She turned and looked at him then, a tired smile upon her face.

"You really are a kind man aren't you? Even though you try very hard not to be."

His brows drew down at her words and he slowly drew his hand from hers. "You have no idea who I am!" he snapped automatically, the words jumping from his mouth before he even registered thinking them. The hurt that crossed her face at his intentional withdrawal was surprising.

"Forget I mentioned it then!" She bit out, barely paused to take a breath before continuing. "I can pay you if you like," Brielle said airily as she got stiffly to her feet, affecting an air of unconcerned annoyance she brilliantly hid her true feelings.

"Pay me?"

"Yes, for teaching Aria. After all, being that you are an insufferable boar you wouldn't want anyone to mistake your actions as being too nice! And since you prefer to act like a stranger perhaps I should treat you like one and pay you for your efforts!"

Erik suddenly realized how deeply he must have hurt her feelings. She looked perfectly composed but he knew she must be as angry as she had ever been in his presence. He slowly stood, the piano bench separating them by only a few feet. Brielle stiffened when he took one step and closed the distance between them.

"Brielle, I didn't mean..."

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare apologize to me! I won't accept it!" she snapped without backing down, going so far as to jab him sharply in the chest with a finger.

With a growl he snatched at her hands, firmly clutching them against the front of his shirt and effectively stopping her annoying movements. "Shut your mouth and listen!" he barked, shocking her into stillness. "I already feel like an ass for being so cruel, you don't have to be so dramatic and make me feel worse! Sometimes I find myself saying things I don't mean. God knows I am trying to control my temper but your mouth would try the patience of a saint!"

Brielle blinked up at him, the barely hidden anger appearing then fading from her features. The closeness of their bodies quickly started to become all too apparent. With her every breath, her bodice brushed against his chest. Erik suddenly forgot what he had been about to say. His eyes, unbidden, dropped to her parted lips. He felt her hands relax in his hold till they lay flat against his collar bone. Another tiny chink fell away from his many defenses.

"Erik," She sighed. "Whatever it is you are holding onto…" There was a slight pause as she bit her bottom lip anxiously. "You must learn to let it go. If you let it fester any longer…it will eat away your soul till nothing remains but darkness."

He didn't understand how this tiny woman, in so short a time, had come to know his very mind. Her insight into his innermost thoughts was unnerving. Erik opened his mouth to reply, but was rudely interrupted.

A roar sounded from somewhere down the hallway, followed by the pounding of two sets of feet approaching the parlor. Erik immediately released Brielle from his grip, springing back from her as if the touch of her skin had burnt him. She raised a shaky hand to her head as if dazed at his sudden retreat at the precise moment Conner burst into the room with Aria trailing on his heels.

Seeing the look on her brother's face, Brielle stepped forward to head the man off. He looked ready have a brawl at a moments notice. "Conner, whatever are you racing about for?"

Conner planted himself in the doorway, a wild glitter sharpening his eyes. Thrusting one finger out to point at Erik, he gave a dangerous smile. "How dare you sir! You owe me an apology!"

Erik glanced at Brielle quickly, strangely feeling as if they had been caught doing something scandalous. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was particularly which had set the redhead off. Silently Erik closed his hands into fists at his sides, preparing for the imminent battle. Ohh shit.