Erik hated it, but he no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get Nadir's warning out of his head. He spent every waking moment thinking about it. When he was home, Erik made sure that Katja was in his sight, and when he wasn't home, he all he could think about was getting back to make sure she was safe.

He glanced over at Katja who was sitting on the couch knitting a blanket for the baby. Erik walked into what was going to be the nursery and picked up the paintbrush. When he got home every day, Erik would work in here until supper and afterwards he would either have a piano lesson with Katja or just play for her depending on how she felt.

As he worked, he could hear Katja humming in the next room. Every so often he'd look out to make sure she was still alright. Erik didn't know why he was so worried. Katja was perfectly safe. He was here with her, and God only knew where those gypsies were. But they were far away from here and that's all that mattered.

The pitter patter of rain gently falling on the roof sounded through the house. Knowing full well that his wife was terrified of storms, Erik double-checked on Katja. She was now in the kitchen preparing dinner. At the sound of his footsteps she turned. He raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she was okay. She smiled at him before turning back to the stove. Satisfied, Erik returned to his work in the nursery.

Since they didn't know the baby's gender and Erik didn't want to make the walls generic, neutral colors, he had found himself painting the room much like the Grand Foyer in the Opera Populaire. Even though the splendid room had been destroyed in the fire five years ago, Erik remembered it perfectly.

"Oh my," he heard Katja gasp behind him. "It's like a castle."

"It's the Populaire," Erik explained, turning to face her. "This is what it looked like before the fire. They used to have balls and grand parties in a room just like this. I suppose it's my way of trying to recreate some of the beauty I destroyed."

She walked to the center of the room, slowly spun around, and gawked at the nearly finished design. "It's beautiful Erik. You're truly an artist. Our baby is going to grow up in a palace!"

Katja turned back to him clearly about to say something else, but instead she suddenly burst out laughing. "What?" Erik asked, confused by her behavior.

"You have paint on your face," she said with a giggle. Katja licked her thumb and rubbed his good cheek. When she was done, she cocked her head to one side, studied his face for a moment then smiled. "There you go, it's all gone now."

"Thank you," he murmured. His face colored slightly, since he was embarrassed to have been caught with paint on his face. "Did you need something?"

"Supper's ready." Erik put down the paintbrush and followed Katja into the kitchen, deeply inhaling the delicious smell. One of the perks of marrying someone who had grown up living above a café was that Katja turned out to be a wonderful cook. Since he was unfamiliar with German cuisine, dinner was sometimes a bit of an adventure for him, but so far it hadn't been a bad thing.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, realizing that Katja was barely eating. She nodded, not looking at him. "Do you feel sick?" Katja shook her head no. "What's…?" He finally saw the darkening sky and could hear the rain beginning to pick up. "Oh, the storm?"

"It's stupid I know," she replied. "But I…" Katja cringed as lightning flashed and was quickly followed by the loud boom of thunder as the storm grew stronger.

Erik was quick to embrace to his trembling wife. "It's okay. Everyone's scared of something."

"Oh yeah? What are you scared of?" she demanded.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Losing you."

Before Katja could respond, there was more lightning and thunder loud enough to shake the entire house. She clung to Erik then screamed suddenly. "What's wrong?" he asked, realizing she was pointing to the window.

"Something's out there!" she cried. Lightning flashed again. Erik saw a shadow move outside the window, but it was there only a brief instant, not long enough for him to see what exactly it was. "What is that thing?"

"I don't know." Remembering Nadir's warning, Erik decided not to take any chances when it came to Katja's safety. "But I'm going to go find out. Stay here," he ordered as he grabbed his cloak and yanked it on.

"What if it comes in here?" Katja demanded.

"Don't worry, I won't let it," he replied soothingly. "I promise." She nodded. Erik kissed her quickly before pulling up his hood and disappearing out into the storm.

Katja paced frantically in the kitchen, flinching every time there was thunder or lightning. She was absolutely terrified. Erik was out there alone to face God knew what. If something were to happen to him…

After what seemed like far too long, the door opened back up. "It's just me," Erik called. Katja ran to her husband, threw her arms around his neck, and crushed her lips against his, completely not caring that he was dripping wet.

"Thank goodness you're okay," she cried in relief. "Did you find out what was out there?"

"Yes I did. You aren't going to believe what it was." It was then that she realized her husband was holding something in his hands.

Erik placed a drenched ball of fuzz on the table before her. Katja wasn't sure what exactly it was until it mewed softly. "Oh my God. A kitten?" She began to laugh in a combination of relief and embarrassment. "I was scared of a kitten?"

Her husband pulled off his cloak and draped it over a chair near the stove to dry as Katja ran to get some towels. "It appears so."

"Oh, look at him, the poor thing's shivering!" She handed one towel to Erik before using the other to dry and warm the tiny kitten. "I've never seen a cat like him before. I wonder what breed he is."

"She is a Siamese cat," Erik explained. "I saw a few when I was in Persia. The Shah had several cats, and his favorite was a Siamese like this one. I believe the breed is Asian. I've never seen one in Europe before. She's a long way from home."

"Do you think someone is looking for her?" Katja asked.

"I don't know," Erik replied. "Siamese cats are certainly uncommon and she's small enough that I don't think she could possibly be more than a few weeks old. Perhaps someone was trying to breed them here." He carefully took the kitten from Katja. "But then again, she's too thin to be a recent escapee. Siamese cats are slender, but not like this. Her owner either starved her or she's been on her own for at least a week. Either way, she's lucky to still be alive."

"Can we keep her?"

He looked at her for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he nodded. "I suppose so."

Katja immediately rushed to fetch some milk. "You know," she said as she poured some in a bowl and placed it before the kitten. "This is now your second rescue."

Erik smiled as the kitten began to lap up the milk like it had never eaten before. "I suppose it is. So if we're going to keep her, she needs a name."

"You're right," Katja agreed. She studied the kitten for a moment. "But she's not a common breed, so she can't have a common name."

"What about Ayesha?" Erik suggested. "It was a name I heard from time to time when I was in Persia."

"Ayesha," Katja repeated, testing the feel of the name. "That's beautiful. I like it."

"Then Ayesha it is." Erik hesitantly reached out and gently touched the kitten. Ayesha shied away from his touch for a moment, but when Erik kept his hand out, she timidly approached him and rubbed her head against his hand. Within a few moments, Ayesha was allowing Erik and Katja to pet her. "I think she doesn't mind staying here."

"Of course she wouldn't," Katja replied, hugging Erik's arm. "She's here with you. Who wouldn't want to be here?"