"What the hell happened to you?" Garridan asked when a bloody and bruised Cato stumbled back into the gypsy camp. "I mean, really, I thought your face was ugly before."

Cato glared at his brother. "You're hilarious," he snapped, tilting his head forward and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "I think the bastard broke my nose."

"What happened though? You look like she used to after Javert beat the crap out of her." Garridan sighed. "He never did know how to handle her. What a waste. He treated her like a punching bag instead of using her to her fullest potential."

"I found her," Cato said suddenly. "She was in an alley in the city."

"You WHAT?!" Garridan shouted. "You found her and you just let her walk away? Do you know how much she's worth? Do you know what we could do with her?"

"It wasn't my intention," Cato replied bitterly. "There was another man with her."

"So then he was the one who colored you black and blue?"

"Apparently he didn't want to give the whore up, not that I blame him. But now we know she's still here. We can find her and bring her back and put her to use."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Garridan asked skeptically. "Do you know how big Paris is? The city is massive. There are millions of people here. It had to be pure chance that you found her at all. And the only reason we've stayed as long as we have is that the others are still trying to find the bastard that killed Javert. They might stand a chance if the police were involved, but one: having the police here too much wouldn't be good for us, seeing as Javert didn't always listen to their rules, and two: they thought it was just a suicide. But Javert would never have let her just go."

"I have a gut feeling that it's the same person," Cato explained. "If we find her, we find Javert's killer. After all, why would you just let a pretty thing like that just walk out? "

"That still doesn't solve the problem of the sheer size of the city."

"But the man who was there wore a white mask on half his face. That's not common. Somebody somewhere knows something about him. And we can use that to find him, and therefore find her."

Katja woke with a start. She sat up and instantly turned, not surprised to see Erik beside her. His arms came around her, pulling her close. Being in his embrace instantly comforted her. "Did I…?" she started to ask, realizing that her cheeks were wet.

He nodded. "Yes, you were screaming again."

"Did I wake you again?" she asked, seeing his disheveled appearance and wrinkled shirt.

"I told you before, I don't need that much sleep," Erik replied gently. "It's more important for me to know you're alright than sleep." He cupped her cheek. "This nightmare was different, wasn't it?" She looked away. Was she really that easy to read? He rubbed the tears away with his thumb, waiting patiently for an answer. "It was him this time wasn't it? The gypsy in the alley?"

She finally nodded. "Yes," Katja admitted quietly, but that wasn't the whole story. For a moment, her eyes flitted up to meet his gaze, but she didn't hold it long. Katja wasn't about to tell him, but Erik himself had frightened her last night. When he saved her, she was afraid that he was going to beat the man to death. Maybe he had, she didn't really know. But she had been scared that Erik wouldn't be able to control himself, and wind up hurting her. Perhaps she shouldn't have doubted him, but that half-crazed look in his eyes had been enough to terrify her almost as much as the reappearance gypsy.

Erik seemed to sense that the nightmare wasn't the only thing bothering her. "Is there something else?"

"No," Katja lied with a shake of her head. Erik hadn't hurt her. There was no reason she couldn't trust him. He was still the (almost) perfect gentleman that he had always been towards her.

He opened his mouth like he was going to press the issue further, but seemed to change his mind. Luckily Katja's stomach chose this moment to grow, ending the awkward silence before it had a chance to begin. "Sounds like you're hungry," Erik said with a chuckle. "Get dressed, I'll prepare some breakfast."

Once he was gone, Katja pulled off her nightgown and changed into a dark blue dress. She didn't remember putting on the nightgown last night, but then again, she didn't really remember much of what happened after Erik saved her. Everything was more or less a blacked-out blur. It was something that used to happen to her when Javert raped her. She would just shut down until the pain was over. It was the only way she had been able to cope.

As she brushed her hair, Katja caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror. Her hand went to her cheek, where an ugly bruise that was forming from the gypsy hitting her the night before. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had finally healed from Javert only to get beaten and bruised all over again.

"Katja?" Erik called. She made her way to the kitchen, where Erik had set up a plate full of pastries and fruit for her. He gently tilted her face up so that her gaze was locked with his. Instantly he saw the tears in his eyes. "What's wrong?" She buried her face in his shirt, allowing the tears to fall. He instantly pulled her into a soothing hug. Katja closed her eyes and let him hold her.

Erik was safety and security. Erik was warmth and comfort. Erik was caring and compassionate. Erik was patient and kind. Erik was…Erik was everything she ever really wanted Katja realized. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. His hands came up to her cheeks, gently pulling her closer, as her hands ran up his chest. This felt inexplicably right. For the first time in a very long time, Katja felt like her life had meaning.

Her fingers reached the buttons of his shirt, but Erik suddenly grabbed her hands, pulled them away, and then backed away from her. Katja could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, desire burning in his eyes, which made her wonder what she had done wrong. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret," he said softly before walking away.