Hey, look at that! I'm posting in a timely manner! Which is rather incredible to me given how much cold medicine I'm currently taking. (Remind me next year to NOT sign up for nursery duty the Sunday before Christmas. Inevitably one of the kids is sick and infects me. This is the second year in a row!) But I did get to see Star Wars and fear not, this shall be a spoiler free zone. But I think I saw it too early because none of my friends have seen it so I have no one to discuss with! Grrr...

Anyway, have a very Happy Christmas! In between coughing bouts, I shall be watching Downton's Christmas Special as well as Doctor Who. Sooo... not a bad day for me either!

But for now, onward!

viii

Erik was not generally prone to fear. Not anymore. Years of terror and pain had stripped him of such paralyzing emotions, leaving behind only anger and determination.

And yet as he stared at the empty passenger seat, he knew it, if only for a moment. Before intense annoyance settled over him.

She would dare run from him?

He knew perfectly well that there was not in fact a murderer looking to do her harm, but that did not preclude the usual evils from occurring that were typical within a city. Erik was well aware that while he was a monster, there were plenty of those to be found within the human race as well.

But Christine thought that there was a man actively pursuing her to do her harm, yet evidently she so detested his presence that she would prefer to risk that concept rather than remain with him a moment longer.

He comforted himself knowing she could not have gotten far.

The view from the car would have allowed him ample opportunity to see her flight from this direction, meaning she must have taken the second exit from the cafe and turned right. His stride was long and with every step, his hold on his temper loosened slightly. How could she? Despite his best efforts, he had grown to... care for her. From what he had seen of her at the theatre, he thought that she would be a kindly sort of person. Quiet, a bit reserved, with a lingering sadness that did not seem to suit her features very well. But with him, she smiled, and he could not ignore the feeling it produced in him when it was directed at him. A longing for what most certainly could never be.

Especially if she ran from him.

There did not seem to be many alleys or cross streets that she might have hidden herself, or used to divert from their original course, but he used every bit of his many talents for observation so that he would not risk missing her.

Until suddenly he spotted her coming out of a convenience store, a plastic bag in hand. He hurried his pace, ready to grab hold of her when she made to turn the opposite direction—before she could move away from him. But to his surprise, she turned and walked toward him, only to startle as she seemed to finally notice his presence. Her shoulders sagged somewhat, and he felt a moment's triumph that he had foiled whatever foolish plan she had concocted. "Did I really take that long? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I thought I could be back before you got worried."

She was coming back? Nothing about her countenance suggested she was lying to him, but he was in a temper and his voice grew snide. "You have a strange concept of what protection might mean if you think I may do so while sitting in a car parked two blocks away." He leaned in closer, watching her cheeks redden and her eyes grow wide. "Or perhaps you thought to seek protection from me."

Christine gripped her purchase a little tighter, her gaze settling upon his shoulder, evidently no longer able to meet his own. "Do I need to?" she asked quietly, her words wavering ever so slightly.

Erik straightened, disgust seeping into his tone. "Of course not. Though I warn you, Christine, I do not appreciate when a charge makes my job more difficult by running from me. As you have already ascertained, I make a great deal of personal sacrifice to keep people safe, and you making such foolhardy choices only adds to that burden. Do we have an understanding?"

Christine nodded, still refusing to glance at him fully, and suddenly an unfamiliar feeling of guilt clutched at him when he saw her eyes water. He had been too harsh with her. Erik sighed, battling down the last of his anger—and refusing to acknowledge the tendrils of fear and disappointment that had wrapped about his heart when he thought she had escaped him. "What was so important that you would risk your own safety?"

Christine held the bag more firmly against her. "I... it's personal."

And with that, she brushed past him and presumably began the trek back to the car.

Now that he was beginning to calm, the more rational parts of his mind noted that she truly had not gone very far. "If you had need of something, you had only but to ask. There was no need for you to run."

She halted abruptly, her eyes holding their own bit of fury. "I wasn't running from you, or trying to make your life more difficult! I'm sorry that I did, but I just... I needed to get something in private, and I genuinely thought I could do that without you getting mad at me!"

Erik frowned down at her, his gaze flickering briefly to the bag still clutched tightly against her chest. "Private? What could possibly require privacy to attain?" He liked to select his weapons when he had time to peruse and handle each with care, seeing what would suit him best. But then, until just recently, he had done everything alone.

Christine glowered at him, her lips pressed into a firm line as she stared up at him, before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of crimson. Could people come to harm from such a blush? Erik suddenly began to wonder if such a thing was possible.

"I know I shouldn't be embarrassed about something so natural, but I am. I don't even like buying these things under normal circumstances. But if you simply must know, I got my period and other than what I had stashed in my purse, I forgot to pack any of my supplies. I thought I could slip down here to take care of it without having to explain all of this to you, but apparently not!"

And with that, she silently stormed back to the car, waiting none too patiently by her door for him to unlock it.

Erik obliged, but he was seriously tempted not to. If he prevented her from entering the vehicle, she could not fully engage in a sulk and perhaps grow even angrier with him. But she looked so unhappy standing there, and with a sigh he stepped nearer to the car, allowing the car to unlock as he did so.

Today had been an utter disaster. Maybe he should have allowed her to sleep in later. The overage charges at the hotel would have been nothing, and with a bit more rest perhaps she would not be so very displeased with him.

But even he knew that he had pushed her too hard—broached subjects he had no business discussing with her, even on the most amiable of terms. No woman would wish to be with him, and permitting himself to consider Christine in such a light would only bring himself more heartache. And he had experienced quite enough of that in his lifetime.

They drove on in silence, but Erik was very aware of the way Christine shifted in her seat, a grimace crossing her features now and again as she seemed to struggle to find a pleasing position.

He knew little of periods.

He had studied anatomy throughout the years, both to slake his curiosity on the subject and to learn how better to care for the wounds he incurred throughout his miserable existence. But when the chapters had strayed to that of the female composition, he could not bring himself to dwell there for long—not when it served as a painful reminder of how irrelevant such information would ever be in his life. He would have no companion who suffered from such ailments, no need for the excruciating details of ovulation and conception. Not when he had never, and would never be permitted to engage in such pleasures that would allow him an acquaintance with such dealings.

Especially not with Christine. He held no illusions on that point.

Erik cleared his throat, not liking the necessity of asking, but determining it a necessity. "Are you in pain? Do you require something?"

He was not expecting the vehemence of her glare, nor the way it made him feel to receive it—almost as if he was prepared to do anything she asked so they might restore the relative ease they had achieved over the past few days.

"I usually hole up in my room for the first day with a hot water bottle and some Advil. I don't suppose you have any of that in the car, would you?" He glanced at her sharply, not appreciating her biting tone, but as he looked at her, something in her seemed to crumple. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "I shouldn't snap at you; you haven't done anything wrong." She placed her hands over her face, shaking her head firmly. "I'm just embarrassed and grumpy and I miss..." She stopped, dropping her hands and looking out the window the cars speeding along the highway with them.

Erik proceeded with caution. "What do you miss, Christine?"

She was quiet for a moment before she sighed, this time her eyes showing a grave sadness when next they met his. "I miss things that are familiar. I miss my routines. I'm supposed to go to Papa's grave tomorrow before I go to church and now..."

Erik felt rather helpless. Those were things he could not offer her—could not simply stop at another convenience store and find medicine to soothe away her ailments. He had robbed her of such things, and there was no pretending otherwise. So instead he tried to simply get her to keep conversing. "You attend services?" He tried to keep his voice neutral, not wanting to upset her. In his earliest days, he had sought comfort there—sought answers for his deformity.

They had spoken of a plan. That something good would someday come of his hideousness.

Erik had left, angered and disgusted.

And then later, when all hope and goodness had left him, he had stumbled back, desperate for whatever absolution he could find.

Only to feel no peace there, not with the taints on his soul.

But they were not all his fault...

"Yes," Christine answered softly. "I don't... I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

Erik frowned at her. "Why would it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I often get teased for it at the theatre. That I'm a goody-goody because I go and I enjoy it. But I... they helped me so much. First when my mother died and then with Papa. They knew him there, and that means something to me."

"A shared place," Erik confirmed, wondering what it would be like to treasure someplace simply for the memories it held. He was almost envious.

Christine seemed to blink back tears. "Yes. And now I've lost that too."

"I am sorry," Erik said, finding himself remarkably sincere. "That all this had to happen."

Christine took a deep breath, and offered him a shaky smile. "Thanks. I think... I think if we can get along, it won't be so bad though. I think we could be friends if we can manage to talk to one another better and... I'd like for us to be. Especially if we're going to be staying together."

He noted that she refused the term living together, and he could not blame her for it. It suggested at things that would not be shared between them, and everything he had seen of her thus far suggested that she was a true lady—and he would not impeach her character by allowing others to make undue assumptions regarding her person.

"You shall require a ring if we are to appear married," he noted, rather abruptly if her widened eyes were any indication.

"But they're so expensive! And you've spent far too much already."

Erik watched her carefully. Her brow was slightly furrowed, and she was nibbling at her lip—something she seemed to do when she was nervous or uncomfortable. "You think so? And this... troubles you?"

Christine gave a hesitant nod. "It doesn't seem fair, that all that money is getting spent just for me... to keep me safe. I'm sure people would rather their taxes go to schools, or to roads, or..." she shrugged, and Erik bristled.

Schools or roads? Those were more important than Christine's wellbeing?

"That is ridiculous in the extreme," Erik informed her firmly. "Do you not think that the preservation of a life is worth more than such things?"

Christine shifted again, another grimace marring her features as she did so. "No," Christine conceded. "It is. But I don't know how many people would agree with you on that."

Erik rolled his eyes. He did not care what people had to say. "Then we shall not poll them for their opinions." He wanted to add that she need not fret on the matter at all, that thus far only his money was being spent for her comfort and safety, but he forced himself to be silent. She could not know of such things. Ever.

As he continued to watch her squirm, Erik again stated his earlier inquiry, this time a bit more forcefully. "You did not answer me sufficiently before. Are you in pain?"

Erik could visibly see her bite back a retort, choosing instead only to nod.

When he could safely do so, Erik pulled over to the side of the highway, the cars appearing to go so much faster as he exited the vehicle and went to the back. If he had not minded Christine's fear that would have undoubtedly followed should she have begun searching through his bag and seen some of the contents therein, he simply would have sent her to the back to retrieve it herself. He withdrew a small bottle of pills. He was not a doctor, but he knew enough about medications to know that these would not harm her.

"You may take one every eight hours," he told her when he returned to the driver's seat, handing her the bottle.

"That's it?" she answered, looking at the unmarked bottle rather dubiously. "I take a lot more Advil than that." She shook the bottle suspiciously. "What are they?"

Erik smirked. "Not Advil." Christine rolled her eyes, but continued to stare at him, and he realized she was expecting a more forthright answer. "They are a pain medication with very few side effects, that should ease your discomfort. There is nothing dangerous about them, assuming you do not take more than the prescribed amount."

She arched a brow. "Prescribed... by you." She looked down at the bottle, evidently considering whether or not she trusted him enough to take it. "Isn't it illegal for me to take your medicines? I mean, your doctor ordered them for you."

A doctor most certainly did not, but he was not about to explain his method of acquisition to her. "I have a few pharmaceuticals with me with the express purpose of offering them to those under my protection if their needs require them. I also have an epinephrine auto-injector. If you required that, would you also put up a fuss?" That had been a last minute addition, one that he had to specifically locate. He did not know if she had any allergies, but if she was to be under his care, he was not going to be unprepared should the situation become dire.

Christine's cheeks reddened and she smoothed her fingertip across the lid of the bottle. "I'm not making a fuss. I just don't make it a habit of taking other people's drugs."

Erik allowed her to think, even as his frustration grew. She was uncomfortable and in pain and he offered her relief, yet she argued with him. And though he told himself firmly not to allow such thoughts to enter his mind, he could not help but wonder if anyone but him had given her the bottle, if she would have relented much more readily.

"They're mild, right? I won't come to you tomorrow and be begging for more?"

Erik sighed deeply and briefly closed his eyes, returning his attention to the road just as quickly once he had regained a sense of calm. "It is not my intention to make you dependent upon them, Christine, nor would those do so. You would need something far stronger than that, and I am afraid I do not have anything of the sort in my belongings should I prove so devious."

Christine winced, but nodded, undoing the cap and pulling out a small, white pill. She took it with the remnants of her tea, and eased back against the seat, her hand rubbing absently at her lower stomach—the source of her obvious discomfort.

"You don't need to take things so personally," she told him, her voice soft. "I told you I want for us to be friends, but I also can't just blindly do as you say. Not yet."

Erik very nearly wanted to retort that she was willing enough to blindly obey him into accompanying him on this very journey with a mere flash of his badge and carefully selected words. But in that she was acquiescing to a supposed figure of the law, and she doubtlessly feared she would be in trouble if she had refused. It was not that she had any particular trust for him. And that notion was oddly displeasing.

"There may be times when I need you to do as I say without question," Erik told her gravely. "If ever we are in danger and I give you instructions, there may not be time for me to explain all of my reasoning. I hope you can understand that." He hoped they would never find themselves in such circumstances, but he could not predict the future. And if her remembering his supposed position and the apparent risk to her life—to which he would prove the greatest barrier, at least within the confines of the story he had woven for her—then that could only make things better. He wanted her to trust him—for her not to question his motives or his care for her.

"I get that, I do. I just... hope you'll be patient with me. I've been alone for a long time and used to doing things my own way. So to have to start switching my mindset..." she shrugged, and to his very great surprise, she reached out a tentative hand and placed it lightly on his sleeve.

Erik stiffened, his usual reaction when a foolish someone dared to touch him, their intentions generally to cause harm in some manner. He braced himself, not certain what he thought she should accomplish within the confines of a car, especially when she knew he carried a gun—though he could not imagine a circumstance where he would be willing to use it against her—but it was better to be prepared.

But her touch was soft and she merely held her hand upon his arm, her eyes wide and sincere as she spoke. "I am grateful for all you've done for me. I know it's your job, and you're paid to do it, but you're still... willing to do it at all. So thank you."

She removed herself from his person then, leaning against her seat before she closed her eyes, evidently desiring a nap. Yet Erik suddenly felt tense and anxious, his arm feeling strangely warm from where she had been.

And most disastrously, he wanted her to do it again.

Sooo... look who's back! Think it was stupid of her to go off like that? Would you want to have that conversation? I know I wouldn't. I refuse to buy products at my usual grocery store because I've made friends with all the bag boys. Yup, I'm twelve.