You all thrill me with your anticipation. I hope this measures up to your expectations!

This chapter is most definitely rated M. I will likely have to raise the rating for the entire fic from here on out. :)

Chapter 22

She slept better that night, maybe a sign that her seasickness was finally beginning to end. She hadn't thrown up at all yesterday, and her stomach rumbled in its quest for food before she even rolled out of bed.

Erik was already gone, and by the feel of the cold sheets, he had gotten up a while ago.

She took a quick shower, careful to go slowly when getting in and out, and went downstairs with her hair still damp. She felt a bit more back to normal now, dressed in regular clothes and hunting for some breakfast. The cart was still here. She grabbed a piece of toast and a little egg, feeling like she should try to get some protein in her. The pot of coffee was calling her name, and even though she shouldn't push herself, she just had to have a cup.

She sat at the dining table and began to eat. Soon, Erik stepped out of the guest bedroom, in the middle of tying his cravat, looking like he had only gotten dressed too.

He halted in mid-stride when he saw her at the table, his quick eyes taking everything in. "You did not wait for me."

She put down the toast that was hallways to her mouth. "Wait for you?"

He came closer, seemed to sniff the air, and stopped again. "You bathed."

"I did." She took a big bite, loving the strawberry jam.

"Without me." He came next to the table, and he really did look offended.

She glanced at him without concern. "Since when do I bathe with you?"

His fist came down on the wooden surface in a loud clang of china that made her jump. Her coffee sloshed, sending the hot liquid careening toward her across the table. She scooted back before it had a change to hit her lap. When she glared up at him, she saw that even he was startled by his own outburst.

"Look, Erik, I don't know why you're so mad at me, but I didn't do anything, okay? I feel fine – I am fine. My head is only a little sore today, and I'm not feeling nauseous at all. In fact, I'm feeling so great that I want to go out."

He recovered quickly, a hand slicing through the air. "Out of the question."

"I didn't ask for permission," she said coolly. "I was politely letting you know." She took up her plate, her appetite gone. She could grab a bigger lunch out anyway.

As she stepped away from the table, he wrapped a hand around her upper arm and held firm. "You could barely stand on your own yesterday. How can you possibly-"

She scowled at his long fingers. "I said I'm going. Now let go of me."

"Christine-"

"Let go of me, Erik!"

He did but like he had been burned, stumbling back a pace. She hadn't meant to shout at him, but what was done was done, and there was no way she was apologizing when he was being so unreasonable. He put his back to her, his body a towering line of tension. She raised a hand to place on him but thought better of it. Maybe they both needed a few hours apart to cool off.

"I have to get out of this cabin," she said more calmly. "I've been cooped up for too long, lying around too much. I just want to wander around for a while before I go crazy, okay?"

"Have Nadir escort you."

She scoffed, and he swung around, eyes blazing.

"Do not push me on this, Christine!"

"Fine!" Stalking over to the front door, she grabbed her purse and shoved her feet into her sandals. "You may call him and tell him why I'm on my way over. I'll be back for dinner!" She whirled on her heel and all but bolted out the door.

The walk to Nadir's stateroom was longer than she remembered, and by the end of it she was falling apart, emotionally and physically. It was the most activity she'd had since falling ill, and her legs felt like jelly when she stopped to knock on his door. Maybe Erik had been right that she was pushing herself too hard by getting up and about today. But she refused to think about that right now. There was no way she was going back until much later no matter what.

It was still pretty early, and she had no idea if Nadir would even be in the room, so she was relieved when he opened the door. He looked like he was expecting her, and she guessed he had spoken on the phone with Erik. At the sight of his combed wet hair, fresh from a shower, and the concerned but kind smile on his face, she broke apart from both guilt and relief.

He ushered her inside and helped her sit on the very small couch in his room. A cup of cold water was pushed into her hands, and she gratefully took a few sips.

"What happened?" he asked.

She shouldn't be here, in Nadir's room, after fighting with his long-time companion. Never would she want to drive any sort of wedge between the two men. Erik deserved every bit of friendship that Nadir offered even if he acted like he didn't want it, and Christine couldn't imagine saying something that might sour his perception of the masked man. However, Nadir knew Erik better than anyone.

He was the one who had made it possible for her to be here, after all.

"I'm a horrible person!" she said, and quickly took another drink of water to swallow down the wail that started up.

"Now, now, we both know that's not true."

"It is, though. He's done nothing but take care of me these past few days, asking for nothing in return. But I pushed myself too hard, and I fell and got hurt, and he got so mad at me for it that I just blew up at him – I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran here."

Nadir passed her a box of tissue, and she took several. "Back up a bit," he said, frowning. "You fell?"

She nodded. "In the bathroom. I hit my head."

"And he was furious, I take it."

"Yes, mad at me, like I said."

"Ah." Nadir leaned back and ran a hand over his face, scratching at his beard a moment. "He is most definitely not mad at you."

She blinked at him through her tears. "What?"

"Think about it, Christine." He patted her knee, then abruptly stood with a sudden burst of energy and headed for the door, opening it and indicating she should follow. "I wanted to go to a lecture by this oceanographer on the global perspectives of environmentalism before lunch. Let's go."

Stunned, she could only follow.

How could he say Erik wasn't mad at her? After she had gotten hurt, he had done nothing but avoid her and snap at her, if he spoke to her at all. She knew she had strained herself during that first bath, and she had pushed him into leaving her alone for a while, thinking he could take care of himself instead. It was her own stupidity that had resulted in the fading knot on her head – not anything he had done.

The lecture distracted her for a while, interesting enough to let her zone out and watch some incredible videos taken of the ocean floor. Nadir had a lunch reservation at a pan-Asian restaurant that turned out to be exactly what she needed. She was able to order a rather plain stir-fry that filled her up for the first time since the storm had hit. The food gave her the energy she needed to explore one of the outside decks with Nadir. Thank God the sun was starting to peak out of the clouds again, warming her upturned cheeks. She wasn't sure she could take another overcast day.

She was actually pretty happy to wander around outside for a long time, and Nadir didn't seem to mind. While sipping hot beverages, they laughed at the passengers who braved the outdoor pool in this chilly weather. When she was shivering too much, they went back inside and found a casino. Christine didn't want to spend much of the money Erik had given her on something so frivolous, but she enjoyed playing a few card games and watching Nadir win two hundred bucks at Blackjack.

Soon, the sun was beginning to close in on the horizon, and other travelers were starting to filter their way to the first dinner service.

She hadn't done anything but sit in a chair by the window and watch the sky darken for the past half an hour. She could feel Nadir's steady gaze on her.

"You can't hide out here forever," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"I could try." The joke fell flat. She puffed an annoyed sigh. "I love him. You know that. He knows that. So why is this so hard?"

"Did I tell you how I met my wife Rookheeya?"

She shook her head. "Only that she died giving birth to Reza."

"Well, before that we enjoyed five very happy years together, two of which were spent married." Nadir leaned back and steepled his fingers, smiling at the memories. "I met her at a dinner before I became daroga, when I was only another office in the Shah's police task force. I knew at once that this was a woman I could love. She had large green eyes, and when she smiled, her whole face lit up like a light bulb. I had to talk to her, and she was so quick-witted, my head and heart were both spinning before I knew what had happened."

He sat up, took a sip of his tea, and relaxed again. "But alas, she wouldn't have me! Even though I had her father's blessing, she wouldn't marry me until she had finished her education. That was very important to her, you see, but not something encouraged among the women in my country, especially at that time. It took her three years to earn her degree, and I married her the month after."

He laughed. "I was an impatient man back then, but I learned much of patience from her. I knew she was worth the wait, no matter how long that waiting took." His eyes grew soft. "She would have made a fantastic mother."

Her heart broke for him. "She sounds like it."

"Anyway, the point is this: I wanted her, and she wanted me. Eventually, we made it work. I won't say the journey was all easy – the three years waiting for her hand or the two years of our marriage before she died. But I never regretted any of it, not even the way our life together ended. I would go through all of that again just to be able to spend those years with her."

Christine sucked in a shaky breath and wiped away fresh tears. "Thank you for telling me, Nadir."

"So you see. You and Erik complete each other. Of that I am certain."

"I'm… ready to go back now."

He didn't have to say anything else – he'd already said enough. Once they reached the door to the stateroom she shared with Erik, they exchanged hugs and plans for dinner among the three of them tomorrow. She watched the Iranian leave, then used her keycard to enter the cabin.

In her absence, Erik had drawn the curtains over the two-story windows, casting the main living area into dim light. She knew immediately where he was, seated at the piano and pounding away at the keys. The song was a tremulous one, fraught with the same stress from that morning.

She came to stand near him, and said loudly over his playing, "Aren't you afraid someone might hear?" Truth be told, she hadn't been able to hear him from the hallway, but he was the one who had brought up the lack of privacy here, after all.

He ignored her, sliding into another melody just as disturbing and traumatic in its intensity.

She sighed and went upstairs to change. Her body ached from so much activity today, even though she thought she had taken it easy. The hot tub on the balcony was calling her name, and from what she had seen, the sunset tonight would be beautiful. Despite her talk with Nadir, she wasn't ready to address anything that had happened between her and Erik yet.

She found her bikini, the only swimsuit she had that covered the most on top while still adding a little padding. She put up her hair in a thick bun, wrapped a towel around herself, and headed back down the stairs where Erik hadn't moved from his position at the piano.

"I'm going outside on the balcony," she told him. "To use the hot tub."

For the first time, he paused, though he didn't shift in any way to acknowledge her. "Do you require assistance?"

"No."

His fingers began to fan back over the ivories, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything else.

She pulled the curtain away from one of the doors while leaving the other closed so Erik could keep his own solitude. Checking to make sure he was still in the same location, she quickly draped her towel over a nearby lounge chair and sank into the hot water. Once she turned on the bubbling jets, she relaxed against the side, facing the deepening sunset.

Should she apologize? Would that do anything to help them return to the peaceful moments they'd had before she had gotten sick? He had done such a wonderful job taking care of her, and it had all fallen apart when she had gotten hurt. They both could be so stubborn.

The jets against her back and legs loosened the muscles there. Despite the drama she knew was waiting for her back inside, she felt her body soak in the much-needed recreation. She wished that Erik would join her, but she shook away the disturbing image of Erik in a bathing suit; she had worked hard enough just to get him to don a pair of pajamas.

Maybe she was the one pushing too hard. Hadn't their relationship been that way? Whenever Erik pushed, she snapped at him in anger. Whenever she pushed, he tended to freak out and run away.

But he hadn't, with the pajamas, with joining her in bed. He was trying.

She had spent enough time in this hot tub. She got out, dried off and wrapped the towel around her, and headed back inside.

Erik was still at the piano, his hands flying.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said. She might as well have been talking to an empty room.

Needing to cool off in more ways than one, she ran the tap lukewarm and quickly rinsed the chlorine from her body. She was tired from the busy day, and she wondered what Erik would do if she went ahead and went to bed without him.

Instead of changing into her usual pajamas, she slipped into her robe once again, wearing nothing underneath. It felt rather freeing to do such a thing, but she was still hot and didn't feel like putting on any restrictive clothing just yet, and most definitely not her heavy bra.

She went back downstairs, careful to take small steps so her robe didn't gap open. Maybe she would just grab a glass of water and tell him she was going to bed.

He did glance at her, no doubt catching her in his peripheral vision. "Dinner arrived," he said without missing a beat in the song he spun. The man was going to play until his fingertips bled, wasn't he?

"I'm not hungry," she said. "Are you?"

"No."

"Then there you have it." She stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at him as he played. He really was beautiful, though he would likely never believe her. He worked hard to paint an immaculate vision of himself: the wig carefully combed, his mask polished white and glowing in the sunset's colors, his suit ironed and always so formal.

She came around the side of the piano until she was behind him. When she lifted her hands and placed them to either side of his shoulders, he jumped, missing a note. She hated the reaction, thought maybe she should just go upstairs and leave him alone. However, she kept her hands still until he caught the rhymth back, but she wanted more than merely this light touch. His back was tight as he played.

Splaying her fingers, she gave a gentle squeeze, and encouraged by the fact that he was at least back to ignoring her rather than flinching away, she let her thumbs press against the muscles on either side of his spine just below his neck. That place was always the first of hers to hurt when she was tense, and it seemed a good place to start.

"What are you doing, Christine?" His voice was velvet smooth. Oh, he had that under control, did he?

"Giving you a massage." She tugged on his jacket. "This is too thick." Without waiting for a reply, she slid her hands around to the front of his neck, hooked her fingers into the collar of his suit coat, and began to pull it off his shoulders. To her surprise, he didn't stop her, even pausing his song long enough to shrug the heavy linen off the rest of the way.

She set the coat on the piano bench and went back to that spot, now able to more easily feel the muscles of his back. Tucking between his vest and shirt, her thumbs found the wide bumps of what could only scars, but she pushed them from her mind. She massaged that line of muscle for a while, kneading with thumbs and the heels of her hands.

She was about to start in on his neck or lower on his back when he swung around on the bench to face her.

"Erik-" she began, her speech ready in her head, but his arms were wrapping around her in a fierce embrace. He tugged her close, long legs to either side of her, and like this, they were of a height, so much so that he could bury his face in the curls of her hair at her neck.

The collar of her robe came up around her neck, so she heard rather than felt his shuddering breath. "I thought you might never recover," he said, the silkiness in his voice replaced with a different, rawer emotion.

"I would have eventually," she said softly, holding still in his strong clutch. "Even if I had to wait until I got off this boat. But thank you so much for taking care of me. You're always doing that – taking care of me."

"I didn't well enough. Despite my best intentions, you were still harmed."

"It was an accident, Erik. And really – it was my fault. I should have asked for help."

His hands flexed. "I should have been there."

"Nonsense," she huffed. "I would've kicked you out anyway. Please don't blame yourself. You have been so amazing to me. You're a good man, Erik."

She wasn't prepared for him to chuckle in her ear, his arms tightening almost to the point of pain. "Oh yes, sometimes I am well able to play the caregiver, and taking care of you is something I always want."

He paused for a long time, and she felt nervousness flutter within her belly.

"However," he continued, his voice taking on a new roughness, "if you but knew the thoughts within my mind at this moment…" He shifted his head, his lips finding an open spot of skin below her ear. "Sometimes, I merely want."

She was now sharply aware of the fact that she wore nothing under this robe.

"Erik…" she began, but before he would let her figure out how to end that beginning, he swept her into his arms.

Christine feebly tried to keep herself covered as he settled them onto the couch, but she needn't have worried. He gathered her robe around her, ensuring the ends overlapped to her knees, and then she was back in his arms, sitting sideways across his lap. It was a position he seemed to prefer, and she did too because it made it oh so easy for her to kiss him.

As soon as she leaned in, he closed the rest of the distance. Although years hadn't passed since their last meeting of lips, she ached as though she hadn't kissed him in so long. Their lips slanted across each other, and their tongues began their slip-slide dance that left longing pooling deep inside her. One of his hands fisted in her hair, holding her close, avoiding the sore spot at the base of her scalp. The other hand found one of her exposed calves and stroked the smooth skin on the back of her knee.

She whimpered into his mouth, the sound startling her enough to surface for air. When she broke away, he pressed kisses along her shoulder, on top of her robe. His eyes seemed like two flames, and she couldn't quite meet them.

"Please don't misunderstand," Erik murmured. "We do not have to go further than this, my dearest. I could live a lifetime on your kisses alone."

She let him demonstrate by capturing her mouth once again, and then she pulled back and said with all of her courage, "I'd let you have more."

His breath hitched, and the hand on her knee convulsed in reaction, long fingers dragging up her thigh for a brief second before settling there. "If- if I could but touch you, only touch. My hands ache for the feel of you, my Christine."

"Yes," she whispered so quietly she could barely hear the word leave her tongue.

His fingers slid further down, the cool touch scorching her skin. The hand in her hair flexed, forgotten. He pressed his face to her shoulder instead of kissing her again, so intent was he on his path. His fingers shifted to the line where her thighs touched, centering between her legs. If he twisted them just so, they would…

"Bid me to stop," he begged.

She shuddered. "Never."

And she felt the first sensual touch of his skin on her skin, on her most hidden place that no one except herself had ever touched before. One finger pressed against her, and then another, and the sensation was so enormous, the moment so profound, that she twisted to throw one arm around his back and grip the blade of one of his shoulders like she would drown if she didn't hold on.

"Oh my Christine, my lovely Christine. So soft." Those fingers shifted, exploring, and she was ready for it, the path slick. He was careful, gentle, mapping the most secret part of her body as though committing her to memory, finding which caresses made her gasp and curl her toes.

She couldn't stand the intimacy, and she had to tuck her heating cheeks against the silkiness of his vest. She felt the first sensation of having another's fingers parting her, and then he was sliding inside, just one finger, and oh god she burned from the heat of it. He flexed, went deeper, then deeper, and out again, and only that one long finger felt her from within again and again, but it was enough to send a moan rising within her throat, the sound foreign and mystical to her ears.

"Erik!"

His strokes grew bolder, and his fingers danced as surely as they had ever danced across her back, pulling pleasure from her as deftly as he could pull brilliance from a violin's strings. She writhed in his arms, and his other hand kept her close, his breathing harsh. She felt a deepening between her legs, his thumb keeping a steady, circular pressure on that point on which her existence focused. She panted his name again, and he did not relent, even when she sobbed and dug her heels into the couch.

She was tense, pulled tight like the strings on his violin, his instrument to play, and finally, she felt something boiling within her break open, and a dark surge of primal pleasure overtook her every sense. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blade, and she keened, her shyness forgotten for that brief moment. Her core pulsed around his finger as she rode out the sensation, and his movements gradually stilled as she slumped against his body. Only after her heartbeat began to slow did he leisurely pull his finger from her, leaving behind tingles that made her squeeze her thighs together.

She looked up enough to see him bring his hand level to his face, his eyes wide with wonderment. Her scent was thick in the air, and her face burned, but she couldn't look away as his pink tongue lashed out and licked one of his fingers.

She squeaked and hid her face again in time to feel the chuckle that rumbled up from his chest.

"Dearest Christine, lovely Christine, you astound me."

"I'm the one astounded, dear sir," she retorted, muffled, and more quiet laughter resounded in her ear.

From her position on his lap, it was obvious that he was not unaffected by what he had done to her. She shifted a little, experimentally, not necessarily to further anything more between them, but too tempted all the same not to see if she could feel more of him. His hands flew to her waist, stilling her. She tried to formulate her thoughts, that she was wondering if she should reciprocate in some way, but he was already kissing her softly and murmuring into her lips.

"Let me have this memory tonight, my dear, of you, just like this."

She kissed her agreement, a mixture of disappointment and relief. She still wasn't sure how far she was ready to go with him, but if he made any moves to seduce her further, she seriously doubted she would be able to deter herself.

She worried the atmosphere would be awkward after they both parted ways to change for bed, but she shouldn't have been. Although he didn't remove his mask until the lights were off, he pulled her to him beneath the sheets without hesitation. He kissed her in the dark, slow and unhurried, and she thought for the first time the surety of the word forever.