Huzzah! I'm back from vacation, tanned, rested, and eager to write. I didn't write much on the beach, but I DID get some major outlining done for the rest of the fic.

I was so unsure about this that I had to have my husband read it first. Thanks for the insight, honey!

Please let me know what you think. :) Your reviews thrill me to no end.

Chapter 17

When she pulled back again, her lips were kiss-swollen, her knees aching a little from being wedged between his bony hips and the chair. His long fingers still stroked her scalp in a way that both relaxed and thrilled her. As she broke away, he dipped his head to press his lips to the curve of her neck, and she shuddered in response at the feathery touch. It was all too much – his arms around her, his mouth on her, his chest rising under her hands, her thighs spread atop his.

She sat back further to escape his mouth and put a little distance between them. When his brow furrowed, she gave a happy sigh and lovingly traced the edges of his mask with her fingertips.

"I love you." Would she ever tire of saying that?

His response was to try to encircle her with his arms once again and pull her closer, but she laughed and pushed against his chest with straight arms.

"You can't devour me, you know," she said teasingly.

He leaned toward her, more insistent. "I can try."

Oh, to give into that threat. She let him capture her mouth once more in a slow, deep kiss, breaking away after a moment to try again. "Erik."

"How are you real?" He buried his face against the crook of her neck and shoulder, his breath hot. "You are real, are you not? You came here, on your own? You are here on this ship, at this very moment."

She splayed her hands across his shoulders, soothing his bunched muscles. "I am here."

"I may never let you go again."

She played with the black strands of wig at the nape of his neck. "Eventually, I must sleep, eat, and drink. Those things that normal people do."

"Nonsense," he said, his voice muffled by her collarbone.

"You have six more days with me on this boat alone. I think you may get sick of me by the end of this journey."

She couldn't bring up what would happen after that just yet. Nadir had mentioned a safe house, but she and Erik had never discussed what a future between them would look like. After everything she had done to get here, she was fully committed to entertaining a life with Erik for a long time. She just didn't have the guts to broach the subject herself.

"Not possible," he clipped again.

As she searched for a witty response, he abruptly stood, setting her on her feet. She was a bit disappointed that he had given up on the verbal battle, but she needn't have worried – swiftly, he scooped her into his arms, one behind her back and one under her knees, and started to carry her up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Her heart began to pound. This could of course be a response to her mention of sleep. It was well past 2 a.m., and while she knew she could sleep in however much she wanted, sleep should be on her agenda at some point. On the other hand, she loathed to leave his side when they had only just been reunited.

Stepping into the room, he set her gently upon the giant white comforter, and then knelt beside the bed, capturing one of her hands in his. His jaw clenched. "You are right, my dearest. After all you have done today, you should rest."

She wanted to protest, but the lure of the bed was already starting to weigh her down. She pulled his hand toward her. "I know you don't sleep much but… you could sleep with me?" At the look that flickered across his features, she immediately wanted to take the words back. "I mean, just sleep. Together. In the same bed but while we are sleeping." Gah, she sounded like an idiot.

"I fear I cannot," he said, reclaiming his hand so there was no contact between them. "I thought you and I would be parted forever. I thought I would never see you again. And here you are, and you touched me – you kissed me. And you are lovely, Christine. So, so lovely." The way he looked at her then, his eyes glowing warmly in the lamp light, heated by a new fire – she had seen that look from him before. "So I cannot trust myself tonight. Not tonight, my dear Christine."

Oh… oh. Her face heated as she realized what he meant. Of course, she had thought about that; she would be lying if the contemplation had never crossed her mind. While she had kissed other boys, other men before, she had never gone as far with anyone as she had with Erik already, and she had certainly never really wanted to before.

"I-I understand," she said, knowing her face was red. "I just want to be by your side."

The exposed side of his mouth curved upward. "I will be here as you sleep and when you awaken. I assure you of that."

She pulled down the covers, snuggled into the soft sheets, and when she was settled, he bent and kissed her forehead, her cheek, and finally, her mouth. He didn't let the kiss become too impassioned, and she was careful herself, not wanting to test his self control. At least, not until she was ready.

"Sleep well," he murmured. He turned off the lamp, throwing her into darkness as he pulled close the heavy curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite.

However, sleep would not come to her, no matter how hard she tried. The bed was a plush lump of expensive wonderfulness that soothed her tired body and made her want to sleep, but her mind could not settle. She hadn't rested well the last night either, the night before she had decided to leave her past life behind. Her brain had spun out in all directions, making her write down a list of things to do before she boarded the cruise ship at 3 p.m. and causing her to pitch every scenario for what could happen when she showed up in Erik's cabin.

What would happen when her mother and Meg received their letters? Would they get them tomorrow – that seemed doubtful. They would probably receive them in a few days, maybe on the third or fourth day of her cruise. She hoped they wouldn't be too upset… Maybe eventually there would be a way for Christine to contact them. If not by phone, then maybe email or another letter.

And along with all of that, she still wore her bra, having been too afraid to take it off. She normally didn't sleep with it on, and now it dug into the puckered ridges of scars at her sides. Erik of all people should understand what she had gone through, what it meant to have scars to cover up, but she still couldn't shed the illusion without worrying about the outcome.

With a groan of frustration, she kicked off the covers and clicked on the nearby lamp. The alarm clock on her nightstand said it was five in the morning. Though she probably couldn't see much daylight through the thick curtain across her bedroom, she thought it was likely dawn was still an hour or so away.

Somewhere beyond the bedroom, she heard the soft plinking of the piano.

She was a bit chilly after being so warm under the heavy covers, but she hadn't unpacked her suitcase yet. The lure of seeing Erik again pulled her out of the bedroom. Once she stepped beyond the curtain, the music sounded louder, a gentle tinkering upon the keys of someone trying to play quietly.

The piano was to the side of the main room of the cabin, tucked under the second floor bedroom. She couldn't see Erik until she was almost to the bottom of the stairs, and he was lit by the glow of a lamp across the room. He sat on the piano bench which was slightly askew of the stairs, and he glanced at her as she walked over to him.

"I apologize," he said, continuing to run his long fingers across the ivories. His song was slow. Thoughtful. "I woke you?"

"Actually, I couldn't sleep anyway."

She slid onto the bench next to him, immediately wishing she had sat on the other side, opposite his mask. The white porcelain covered almost the entirety of this side of his face, making his expressions difficult to read. He seemed relaxed enough, though he straightened his spine when she joined him. The scent of his soap wafted over to her – at some point, he had showered. She felt a longing pull that she forced aside.

"Too much on my mind," she added.

The movement of his hands became more measured. "Regretting this choice already?"

"Don't do that." She clenched fists in her lap and glared down at them. "I knew what I was getting into."

"Did you now?"

What was his problem? She twisted on the bench and grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat at his shoulder, causing him to hit the keys in a discordant note. "Of course I did! Maybe all of this is impulsive, maybe there's still a lot left to figure out, but don't make light of the decision I made, Erik."

Staring at the keys in front of him, he gave a long sigh. "I do not mean to berate you. I suppose I still lack the ability to believe you are truly here of your own volition." He turned toward her and brushed a curl of hair from her face with infinite gentleness. "Give me time, my dear."

She caught his hand and brushed her lips across his bony knuckles. "You… do want me here, don't you?"

At that, a throaty laugh bubbled up from his chest. A real, true laugh unlike she had ever heard from him. "Gods, yes!" He leaned forward with obvious intent to kiss her, but she put a finger to his mouth.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"Oh the things we must consider now." His yellow eyes glittered as he continued on his path. "I am likely to not care." And he kissed her slow and deep, without tongue and sensuous heat, but still enough to send an ache pooling low within her.

"No fair," she said. "You already brushed yours."

"A fortunate side effect of needing little sleep."

She pulled back and gazed at him, studying his features now that he was turned toward her on the bench. He seemed more relaxed now than he had been earlier. The corner of his mouth that she could see was turned upward, and tiny wrinkles creased the corner of his eye.

Right then, she knew she wanted to see more smiles from him, hear more laughs. She pledged to do her best to get him to do just that.

She couldn't remember if she had ever seen the hidden part of his face twisted in anything but anger or fear. What would those malformed features look like when peaceful in sleep? What would he look like when he smiled?

Oh my God, when he laughed?

Without quite realizing what she was doing, she began to reach for his mask.

He pulled back, although he didn't capture her wrist like he so often did. "Please, Christine. Let me alone in this."

She let her hand fall to her lap. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you."

"And yet."

She sucked in a startled breath. "Of course I don't, Erik. I- I just want to be with you. Surely you understand that?" He was silent for so long that she had to continue to fill the void. "Don't you know that you haven't any need to hide yourself from me anymore? I want you to feel comfortable just… being with me."

The right words wouldn't quite come to her, but she hoped he understood what she meant.

As she watched, his arms slide around her. She thought he was going to hug her to him, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the pressure of his arms around her. However, the hug didn't come. Instead, she felt cold fingers feel along the middle of her back, and she realized a split second too late what he was doing before the clasp of her bra gave way under his deft manipulation.

She gasped and flung herself away from him, throwing her arms over her front to keep the discrete article of clothing from falling away from the flat pane of her chest. It was all she could do to stop from falling off the bench in an effort to get away as quickly as possible.

"H-how dare you!" she said in shock, stumbling backward toward the stairs. Her vision grew hazy with a quick welling up of tears, but not before she caught a glimpse of his face, blank, the lines smooth and showing no emotion. A sob bubbled up within her, spilling forth with her next words. "How could you do that to me?"

As he rose to his feet, she fled up the stairs, taking a few two at a time. She had to pause to catch her balance halfway up for running with her arms clasped to her chest was not easy, and she saw he was following.

"Stay away!" she cried, stumbling up the rest of the steps to the master bedroom. The room didn't have a door she could slam in his face, but she cupped her loose bra with one hand and used the other to fling the curtain closed. A moment later, his arm pushed the curtain aside as he strode into the room after her.

"I said get away from me!" It was all she could do not to scream in his face, revealing all the fresh misery that dampened her cheeks and sent adrenalin racing through her system. After everything, after last night, he was doing this to her now? How could he – how could he do this horrible thing? He can't have expected her to react well, and when she spun around to glare at him through her tears, she didn't see surprise in his calm expression.

He looked like he had expected her to react this way.

She backed away so the bed was between them. The bathroom was behind her, and she was only steps away from darting inside and locking the door.

He stopped his progress toward her at the foot of the bed. His arms hung at his sides, his hands unfolded, his posture at ease. The sight of him standing there so calmly sent rage through her system. She grabbed the only thing nearby to hurl at him, but the alarm clock caught on its cord and wouldn't turn loose. She tugged on it twice more before screaming at it and heaving it at the wall.

"Are you quite done?" he asked smoothly. "I would hate for you to alert our neighbors during your tantrum."

She cried out at him again, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at him. He let it softly hit his chest. The surge of anger had quickly faded away, leaving only grief.

"How dare you, how dare you," she hissed between clenched teeth, her mantra a high-pitched testament to the pain she felt.

He spread open his arms. "How many times now have you taken off my mask, Christine? How many times have you forced me to reveal myself to you? Time and time again I have allowed it because it pleases you, and every time I have been forced to be reminded of the part of me that I despise. I thought it past time that you understood."

She could feel the straps of her bra slipping down her shoulders. No doubt he could see them. Humiliation joined the fray. "S-so you thought this was the best way to do that?" Her voice rose shrilly. "You couldn't just tell me?"

"I have told you, my dear, time and again." He pressed a hand to his mask, the revealed part of his face finally showing a bit of emotion, darkening with anger and despair. "What do you think drove my mother to abandon me? Sent me to slavery with a traveling carnival? Shackled me to a life as an assassin? Drove me beneath the opera? This was the cause of all of it! Again you try to remove my cover when you won't even take yours off to sleep?"

She shuddered and shook her head. "I can't. I'm not ready do that around you!"

"Not ready!" He took several steps closer, his long strides bringing him around the foot of the bed. "And yet you want me to be."

"It's not the same thing." She stumbled away from him, her calves hitting the nightstand. He was between her and the door to the bathroom, and she would have to crawl over the bed to get away from him if he came any closer. "You told me that my scars wouldn't bother you. You- you called me beautiful."

"That has not changed," he said, softer.

"But now you don't understand. I haven't had anyone shun me for what happened to me. Not like they have you." She drew in a quivering breath and forced out her own truth. "It's the pity I can't deal with, Erik. Did Nadir manage to uncover that my hometown threw a benefit in my honor?"

She chuckled, the sound coming out more like a sob. "They sure did! Two hundred people I didn't know showed up to give my mom money for my treatments and surgery. I was on her insurance at the time, you see, and I guess I should be grateful we even had insurance, but even so, the cost was thousands of dollars we didn't have. My hometown raised money for our deductible and coinsurance and endless copays. Don't get me wrong – the money was needed, and my mom was thrilled. But over and over I had to deal with the hugs and the looks on their faces. Their goddamned pity, Erik! The pity was never ending!"

He shifted on his feet but said nothing. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, not yet.

"And by the end of it, I was their hero! I had gone to war and come back a hero. I had beaten cancer like a warrior. I was a survivor! But I didn't feel like a survivor. I felt like something inside of me had died, something was gone, more than just my breasts, and even though I was alive, I might never get any of that something back again."

Her shoulders began to shake with fresh tears. "I guess that's why I took to Meg so easily. She never gave me that look of pity – she treated me like I was just another nobody. Everyone else, when they find out, they give me that look again, and it never goes away. Once they know, they're lost to me forever."

She finally found the strength to meet his gaze. His golden eyes were wide. He was curved to the side, one hand planted on the bed as though he was having trouble keeping his balance. Her chin raised, and she straightened her back, daring him to speak. He did not.

She continued. "That's why I hid all of this from you until Nadir went digging. I didn't want to see that look in your face. And maybe that's why I press you so hard about taking off your mask. All I ever wanted you to know was that I couldn't possibly do any of that to you. All I wanted was to give you the chance to be like everyone else." Her voice hitched, but she pressed on. "That was all I ever wanted for myself."

She could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. Under her stare, he fell to his knees before her, a sharp thud on the carpet.

"W-what are you doing?" she choked out.

His fingers, visibly trembling, grasped the hem of her nightshirt and suppliantly pressed the fabric to his forehead. "I have never pitied you, never once thought you were deserving of it. I have only ever held you to the highest admiration."

"Stop it," she whimpered.

He pressed on, unmoving from his position. "Here you were trying to be kind, and I repaid that kindness with betrayal."

"You-you were trying to get me to understand." Why was she now attempting to ease his own mind? She should still be fuming at him, but she had never really felt anger. Only betrayal, like he had said. Only a deep sadness. "You're right – I shouldn't push you so hard."

His body shook. His face was hidden in the fabric of her nightgown, and so she couldn't see anything besides the slick black hair of his wig and the wide expanse of his black shoulders.

"Oh my dear Christine," he said, giving way to a moan. "Always in fear of me, and rightly so. You should leave. You should flee this one before you for he will only bring you wretchedness."

She hesitated, unsure what to do. Finally, she let go of her bra with one hand to stroke over the thick wig covering his bowed head. "I told you before – I know what I'm getting into."

And she did, she had always known. She knew the moment she took the cruise ticket from Nadir's hand that she was accepting all of this from him and more. Of course they wouldn't fall into each other's arms and that would be the end of it. Of course the hill between them was still there to climb.

Tucking her hand under his chin, she turned his face upward. That is when she saw the wetness cutting a trail down his uncovered cheek. She smoothed his tears away with her thumb, wishing she could do the same to the other side.

"I can't promise I won't always try to step over your boundaries, Erik. I want so desperately to see you happy. And part of that is learning how to trust me to treat you differently than you have been in the past."

A tremor shook his tall, thin frame. "Decades to unlearn," he murmured.

"I promise to always ask permission first, though. Can that at least be enough?"

"Truly, that is more than anyone has ever offered before." He sat back on his heels, still grasping her hem. "Let me fix it? Christine?"

She didn't know what he meant, but she nodded anyway. She had to trust him despite everything or they could never more forward. His fingertips left her shirt and crept up her arms. In reflex, she tried to straighten back away from him, but his cold hands delved into her sleeves at her shoulder blades, holding her in place. Despite the chill of his skin, his touch burned across the bare patches of her flesh. His hands took hold of the two limp catches of her bra and brought them together at her back. In a few quick movements, he had reattached the clasps, slid his hands free of her shirt, and grasped her upper arms.

His eyes searched hers in earnest. "I will never do that again. You have my oath."

His oath. She wanted to roll back time so this had never happened, but at least she no longer felt like screaming at him. Closing her eyes and taking a deep, calming breath, she let it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him more clearly than before.

He was simply a man, kneeling before her, his expression still frazzled and unsure. A dangerous man, a deeply flawed man, a man who could cut without the need of a knife. But he was hers, of that she was at least certain. In coming here, she had laid claim to him. And eventually, she would let him claim her.

Her hand still hovered at his cheek. She stroked his jaw with a finger, watched his throat bob. "I don't want your oath, Erik," she said. "I just want your acceptance. Can you give that? I just want your love."

The slightest pull on her upper arms, the whisper of yearning, and she followed the draw downward until she could press a kiss to his waiting lips. The caress was almost chaste, and she couldn't handle more than that right now while she still felt so vulnerable, but the slide of his lips against hers contained all the promises she craved.

Next up, everyone's favorite Iranian! Shenanigans aboard the cruise ship! A solution to Christine's insomnia!