sosososo sorry about the wait, with classes starting up again i feel like i barely have any free time. fortunately this chapter was a fun one to write. shit gets real!

The entrance of the museum hall was massive, with large, intricately carved arches sweeping up to the ceiling from the floor. It was cleaner inside than she would have expected from such a large and evidently well-known location in the city, but other than some trash and leaves that covered the marble flooring, it looked fine.

The air of the room was silent as they all examined the space around them. Erik remained standing a few feet from her and Nadir, and the light of his flashlight glinted off the walls as he scanned the small exhibits that lay around them. Broken glass lay smashed around a few display cases, most of the items within long looted and gone, though some did remain. A reconstruction of a caveman's axe. The remains of a pair of boots from hundreds of years ago.

Erik led them through the wide double doors at the end of the hall, shutting them behind them as they passed through. It was even darker in this new space, where no windows were visible and the carpet underfoot muffled every step. It did not seem as though the people back in the house had followed.

Christine glanced back towards the tall, solid doors they had just closed before speeding up a little to catch up with Erik's stride. "What was that, back there?" she breathed. "Were they RF?"

She could see the reflection of the flashlight in his eyes. He did not look at her as he replied. "Unfortunately, yes."

"You knew that man."

He made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a huff. "You sound surprised. I've lived here long enough that we've encountered before. It usually does not fare well in their favor."

The sound of that smoke bomb going off still echoed in her ears. She could see why not.

Erik spoke again. "The plan, however, still remains the same. We will simply have to make slightly more haste in returning to the theater, for they will undoubtedly be on the lookout to apprehend us. Do you have that pamphlet, still?"

"Of course," she murmured, reaching into her pocket where she'd folded it up. In the mad scramble of escaping the house, it had become unfolded slightly, wrinkled at the corners. As she withdrew it, she noticed that the second map, the one of the city and their destination, was no longer there. She must've moved it into her backpack and resolved to double check later.

She handed the pamphlet over to Erik, who scanned its contents briefly before returning it to her.

"The Western European Art wing should lead us near the side entrance we will be leaving from, and if I remember correctly, there are a few hidden passages meant for staff that we should be able to cut through," he said. "Coincidentally, it is one of the few exhibits that has been the least destroyed."

They turned down a corner and came upon another set of double doors, this time Nadir reaching over to open them. Erik, weapon withdrawn, carefully peaked through before deciding the coast was clear, and so they passed into that new hallway, too. There were odd statues– busts of heads, really, lining either side of them. Their faces were twisted into grimaces. Christine crept closer to Erik and Nadir's side.

They continued to weave through exhibits, past towering glass cases, some full of old artifacts and paintings, some entirely empty. Discussion was kept to a minimum, the only sounds their fervent breaths and the occasional murmur of directions from Erik. The entire museum was nothing but inky blackness, illumination only provided where the flashlights pointed.

Minutes passed. They entered into a large chamber that appeared to have been a small foodcourt of sorts, with a tall skylight window reaching above them, from which the moon was visible. A small stand with a faded, mildewy poster proclaiming the assortment of snacks and foods sold within stood beside the counter. Here, Erik's countenance eased. He glanced back toward her and Nadir, and beckoned with a nod to one of the great arches that stood around them. The food court seemed to be a central hub of sorts to the museum, with entrances to most of the different exhibits accessible from there. He led them towards an entrance to their right, and when she briefly lifted her flashlight up to see the words etched into the masonry of the arch above them, she could make out WESTERN EUROPEAN, in detailed cursive.

They descended down the hall, and Erik was right– this exhibit was more intact than the others they had briefly seen, with more placards remaining standing upright next to their respective cases, and very few of the display shelves lay in tatters. The items held within looked interesting, and some even made her want to stop and look, such as a gorgeous painting of what appeared to be a woman in a very billowy dress sitting on a swing– yet Erik did not leave them time to gaze at the art around them. They moved through at a quickened pace, through silent halls, when suddenly, Erik paused before them. His head turned to the side. For a second she thought that he had caught sight of their pursuers, but his posture was not one of alarm as he swiftly turned down the aisle. She glanced at Nadir, but he did not seem even slightly surprised, rolling his eyes and continuing down the way they had been going.

Christine paused uncertainly, unsure of which to follow, and eventually she found herself turning down the route Erik had taken.

He had come to a stop before a grand display case, half built into the wall. Light reflected off the glass as he tilted his flashlight up to look at it, and as Christine slowly neared, she could see that a violin lay behind. It was clearly old, the wood sun-stained and faded, though it still looked immaculate.

"Giovanni Battista Rogieri," he said. "Created in 1671." There was a sense of awe-filled reverence to his words, as though he were gazing upon something celestial, heavenly.

"There are very few like it left in the world," he spoke again, and she realized it must've been for her benefit, for he had undoubtedly been here before. "I imagine even fewer now. Created by one of Nicolo Amati's students, one of the best luthier's of his time…"

"Amati," she murmured. "Wasn't the creator of the violin- the modern one, that is- wasn't he an Amati?"

"Andrea Amati," he supplied. "Considered the 'father of the violin." A moment of silence, and then she could feel his gaze focus on her. "I admit, I had not assumed you to be familiar with violin history."

She glanced down at her shoes, and then back up at the violin from where it lay gleaming within its case. "My dad played," she simply said.

"Ah."

Silence set in, though for once it was not an uncomfortable one, and she could almost call the moment peaceful, basking in the small piece of history that lay before their eyes.

"How come it's still here?" she wondered. "How has no one stolen it?"

Erik exhaled softly, and his reply didn't come immediately. For a second she did not think he would even say anything back at all.

"After the asteroid, once everything began to die down a bit… some of the surviving employees remained in the area. They made it their duty to protect the museum and its contents from looters that ran rampant in the area. Eventually those with such desires in mind turned their attention elsewhere. At one point there was even an entire encampment of sorts within the building where the workers lived. I do not know how much of it still remains."

She turned her head slightly to look around the vacant room that surrounded them. In their entire journey through the museum, they'd not encountered a single hint of life within the place. He must have picked up on her curiosity, for he supplied: "Those people have long moved on from here. This building has sat disused for ages. Very few have any use for delicate, ancient historical artifacts nowadays."

"I suppose not," she said. "Did you know them?"

"Not well. I'd trade with them, on occasion."

Once more, silence supplied the space between them. When she shifted away from the exhibit long enough to look back up at him, he was still gazing at the violin. His hands twitched at his side, and there was something akin to an awe-like reverence on his face, like a person praying at the foot of their God, the way his eyes were softened an entirely unfamiliar expression on his face to her. He looked entirely alight.

"Do you play?" she asked, softly. She couldn't recall if he'd made mention of it in the past– and she'd only seen him play the piano once, briefly, the week before. Still, she remembered the extreme technical skill he'd possessed, and she would find it hard to believe that he was not equally familiar with another instrument, as well.

He paused, and then nodded.

"For how long?" Then she became self-conscious of how many questions she was asking, and quietly added, "If you don't mind."

Those gleaming eyes briefly flicked down to her, and then away, as though in deep thought. "For… nearly my entire life, I suppose."

She looked back towards the violin. It remained unstirred behind the glass case, untouched, an old slumbering thing, far older than the floor of the building upon which they stood. "I wouldn't mind hearing you play sometime," she said.

He looked down at her again, and she could hear the inhale of his breath as if he were opening his mouth to reply, but she never would find out what it was he was about to say– for right then the lights flickered on.

One by one, darkness was flushed from the aisle that they had arrived from, like something from a horror movie she'd watch as a kid with her dad. The panels buzzed, crackling from the sudden surge of electricity connecting through its circuits after so many years in disuse. The dark room was suddenly entirely illuminated.

She turned to Erik, alarmed, as though she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"No," he gritted, "It is not. Nadir!"

"Erik?" came his voice from a few rows down, and Christine had to speed to keep up with Erik's long steps as he hurried to make way towards where Nadir stood. As they came within eyesight of one another, a very loud alarm began to go off, making all of them jump. The main overhead lights that had been on moments before flickered out, and were replaced with flashing red emergency ones, blinking in and out in time to the howl of the alarms.

"They're here," Erik hissed. "They triggered the security system. We need to get out of here."

They broke into a run towards the end of the room, now illuminated with a gleaming sign upon the archway, and she saw what looked like a metal gate begin to descend from the ceiling rapidly. Nadir, the one closest to the exit, ducked under it with no issue, and he turned around to beckon his hand at them desperately.

Christine moved to take another step forward, yet her ankle rolled as she did, the lights and sounds throwing her balance off. She fell with a cry, chin hitting the marble flooring painfully. She looked up through tearful eyes to see Erik stopping just feet from her, then turning and hauling her up with his hands on her forearms. His hands were frigid. Her balance wavered and his grip remained steady on her for a second, before standing back. She glanced past him to see the gate had nearly reached the floor. They weren't going to make it.

Both Erik and Nadir seemed to realize this the same time she did, Nadir running towards and gripping in between the links as though trying to stop it from descending any further, but it was fruitless. It met the floor with a clatter.

A door slammed open distantly, and Erik's eyes were wide as he turned to look behind them. "Get out of here!" he yelled to Nadir, who still held the gate tightly.

"And leave you two here?" Nadir replied.

"I'll find us another way out. You need to leave. I'll meet you one block over. Now go!" he added when Nadir didn't initially move, and the booming power of his voice had her shrinking back.

Nadir hesitated for a moment as though he were going to disobey, then reluctantly withdrew from the gate and backed away. He cast one last uncertain glance in her direction, and then turned down an unseen doorway and vanished.

Behind them another door was loudly busted open, and Erik's grip was bruising as he grabbed her wrist and practically hauled her down one of the side aisles on their left. The glass cases and shelves went by in a blur, flashing red lights reflecting from their surfaces with an almost fevered intensity. One of the decorative arches that spanned the room's diameter was within reach, and he pushed the two of them behind it until they were just out of view of the main hall they had stood in just moments before. What sounded like dozens of footsteps came thundering near, and Erik reached down into his coat, withdrawing what seemed to be another grenade in the flashing light, and his eyes clenched shut for a moment as their pursuers neared, almost as if he were chagrined by whatever action he was considering, before he turned, removed the pin, and threw it directly in the path of the oncoming group of men. She saw little more than a bright flash before he had her pressed tightly against the wall as a shrapnel cocktail of glass shards and shattered wood burst forth from the explosion. Gunfire rang out as well, as though someone had pulled on the trigger of their gun in a panic.

The whole room seemed to shake, and there were agonized yells and screams from the direction the grenade had blown up in, causing her to shrink further against the wall. She found herself suddenly grateful for Erik's tall presence above her. Overwhelmed, her hands curled against the lapels of his jacket. Then the shaking stopped.

She was close enough to smell his cologne, and she was suddenly filled with a confusing mix of fear and warmth as he pulled away to look down at her, those melted-gold eyes so unreadable as always, before he shot a glance to the hallway. His hand grabbed her arm again- though this time gentler, and he tugged them both down the direction they'd come. A hazy film of smoke covered the air, making it slightly hard to see, and she heard the crunch of glass under foot when they passed by a freshly-shattered display case. Something from within caught the light, and she turned to see the violin… lightly scratched from the force of the glass, but otherwise unharmed. She pulled herself from his grip to reach over and lift it from its cradle in the case, before turning to catch up to Erik. He said nothing.

They turned sharply down a nondescript hall, this one no longer lined with display cases, and rushed past two sets of restrooms to arrive at an unlabeled door, hidden just out of view from the main hall by a vending machine on the right wall. The door had a padlock hooked on the knob. Erik swore.

Distantly, a voice, clearer than the others, broke through the smoke and chaos.

"I know you're in here, Erik!" it called out, and she recognized it as the man from earlier. Joe. "Why don't you quit being a pussy and face us?"

Erik dropped to his knees before the door. He turned to her, speaking in a very low voice. "Do you have a bobby pin?"

She scrambled to pull the backpack off her shoulders and unzip one of the smaller pockets, digging around with a hand until she was able to find one. He plucked it from her fingers, and immediately began fiddling with it inside the padlock. She (as carefully as possible,) shoved the violin into the largest zipper to free up both her hands and threw the backpack back on, casting a panicked glance back towards the main hall.

"...and who's that bitch with you? You manage to find yourself someone desperate enough to sleep with you? For what? Food? I'm surprised anyone can tolerate that fucked-up face!" Joe continued yelling out.

Her face flushed, and beside her the narrowing of Erik's eyes were the only indication that he, too, was angered by the words.

"Don't think we haven't forgotten about you. You deserve to fucking die. It's people like you that need to rot in hell. I'm gonna wipe you from the face of the fuckin' earth."

A few blind gunshots rang out, and Christine flinched and crept closer to Erik. His face- what she could see of it, was one of extreme concentration as he continued picking the lock. The gunshots came closer, and her heart practically lunged into her throat when the flashing red lights revealed the silhouette of someone appearing at the mouth of the hall. Gun in hand, aimed at them. The lock clicked beneath Erik's hands, and the door pushed open as he stood, and beckoned for her to enter in before him.

"Found you," Joe hissed before firing.

Christine wasn't sure how she managed to summon the strength to grab Erik and pull him with full force through the doorway as bullets whizzed past their ears, lodging solidly in the wall behind them. They nearly fell into the newly-revealed room, though Erik, much more graceful than she, quickly caught his balance and spun around and closing the padlock once more on the doorknob. He quickly backed away from the door, and she echoed his movements.

"That won't hold them long," he said, and turned around to scan the room. It wasn't big— wasn't much more than a custodial closet, really, and there were no other doors to exit from, nothing save for a small window bolted high near the ceiling. It looked just big enough to fit a person through, and Erik tugged over a metal chair from where it sat rusting on the floor, opening it beneath the window to stand. Shouting came from the other side of the door, where the others must have caught up.

Erik's hands were pushing at the glass, though it wouldn't budge, and there seemed to be no latch with which it could be opened. He pivoted to look around the room, and she immediately understood that he was searching for something to smash the window with. There. A small fire extinguisher sat neglected on a lower shelf, and she crouched down to haul it out, lifting it up to him. He took it, and swung it against the window with a loud bang.

The metal door shook. Gunshots sounded closely enough for her ears to ring, as though they were shooting directly at the door.

Erik swung the extinguisher against the window again, grunting as he did so. A small crack began to spiderweb on the glass.

"Come on out, Erik!" Joe yelled from the other side of the door, "And we'll make it quick for you!"

Again, the extinguisher hit the window. The crack spread further.

"I didn't know you were such a coward!"

A crash rang out as the pane finally gave way with a final hit, glass splintering onto the concrete floor. The fire extinguisher dropped with a clatter to the ground, and when he reached out a hand towards her she did not hesitate to take it, hopping up on the narrow chair beside him.

His voice was barely audible through the gunshots and yelling. "I am going to lift you up. Are you ready?"

And before she could ask what he meant, his hands went to her waist, hoisting her up to the window. She scrambled to find a grip on the frame as he shifted to support her feet, and for a second she panicked that she wouldn't be able to fit through, not with all her layers, and a very visceral, instinctive sort of terror began to raise within her throat– but then she was through and falling against cold dirt.

Christine pushed herself to her knees in time to see Erik haul himself up behind, and then he was in front of her, reaching a hand to help herself up. He pulled her from the ground, and she turned back to look at the small room from which they'd just escaped. She shuddered with stunned exhaustion.

Beside her, Erik's breathing was heavy through the nose-holes of his mask. He looked like… a mess, quite honestly. His black hair was completely ruffled, the paint on the mask chipped, clothes torn and stained from dirt and grime. She imagined she couldn't have looked much better, not from the way his gaze flickered from her head to her toes.

They quickly left the museum and the window from which they'd climbed out of, weaving through a maze of buildings until they were a few streets over before he finally deemed them safe enough to stop. Their flashlights were both turned off, leaving it difficult to see beyond what little moonlight there was out there, but now that they were away from active danger, she could see him scan her more closely.

"Are you injured?" he asked. His voice was gruff and raw.

She swallowed. She'd nicked her hands slightly on the glass climbing out, scraping against old wounds that hadn't quite healed yet, and her jaw felt tender from where she'd hit it, but she wasn't injured, not truly. "No," she breathed.

He'd been the one with his back facing the grenade when it went off, after all. He'd shielded her from the blast. In the moment she had been so startled by all that had been going on that she hadn't truly thought about that. God, was he alright? Her eyes went round. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I am fine," came his words.

"But when the grenade blew up– detonated– you protected me." She stopped to inhale a breath, her heart still racing fast, though beginning to calm, now. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you." She rubbed at the loose fleece on her coat. "I mean it."

When she looked up at him, his eyes were watching her very intently, and a strange look had come over his face. He took a step back, nodding curtly and running a hand through his hair.

"We need to find Nadir," he said, and turned around to scan the stores visible around them. They seemed to be in a shopping area of sorts, the buildings shorter and placed a little more sparsely apart than they had been by the museum and the hideout. One of the buildings in particular seemed to catch his eye, and he took off towards it without waiting to see if she'd follow. It was a small coffee shop, judging from the faded decal in the windows, and it was made of sturdy bricks that were only lightly weathered with time, appearing structurally intact compared to some of the more decrepit buildings they'd gone by before.

Erik went to the front door from where it hung loosely off its hinges, and he opened it slightly, waiting for her to catch up to his side and enter through before letting it fall shut.

The interior of the coffee shop was fairly ordinary, and he did not stop to look around as he passed. He seemed familiar with the building from the way that he effortlessly moved around the overturned tables and through the small, not at all noteworthy door that lay behind the old front bar. It was painted a greasy shade of green to match the walls.

They entered into a dark back hallway, speckled with two small restrooms connected on the right wall before the place emptied out into what had likely been a small office at one time. There lay another door at the back, and it was through this that they exited into a narrow alleyway. And there, leaning against the opposite wall, hand over his face as though he had just been rubbing at a headache, was Nadir.

He jerked upright at the sound of the door closing, his face melting into a look of sheer relief at the sight of them, and he let out what sounded like a soft prayer before he stepped forward to meet them. He pulled Christine in for a tight hug, and then turned to Erik, as though briefly considering doing the same to him before stopping. Instead he patted his shoulder, still glancing from one to the other.

"I feared the worst," he said. "I was just about to head back to make sure you both hadn't died. I heard the gunshots."

Erik's throat bobbed. "They saw us. I was able to distract them long enough to make an escape."

Distract was a unique way to phrase 'set off a live explosive in a historical museum,' but she was far too exhausted to even bother piping up to mention that. Plus her jaw had started to hurt a little from when she'd fallen, and she really hoped it wasn't going to bruise.

Nadir glanced from her to him, no doubt taking in their ruffled appearances, their debris and ash-flecked clothes, and gave them both a tired smile. "I am glad you are alright."

"Don't be so sentimental," Erik growled, but his words were quiet and without bite. They all stood in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. "The theater should be nearby. Do you still have that map?"

She reached down to her pocket again, recalling how she'd looked for it before and had felt nothing. "I'm not sure," she said. "I must have dropped it. There… there was a lot going on."

He nodded, and then turned to look in the direction that she could only guess the theater must lay.

"No matter," he said. "I know the way from here."

...

It was on exhausted feet that they began the trek back to the theater, through dark streets and empty buildings. They did not turn any flashlights on, instead traveling in the pure blackness of the night, for fear of running into anyone else or alerting any passer-bys of their presence. Everything around them was silent, though, and it all remained silent as the first touches of dawn began to streak the sky.

She trailed shortly behind the two men, rubbing cold fingers at her face in an effort to remain awake. Nadir seemed to reflect her own energy, for every time he glanced back at her, the drooping of his eyelids were ever present, and the most he could muster was a tired smile. Erik hardly acknowledged her at all, so focused was he in his goal of returning to the theater. It must've been around the early hours of the morning when they began to near where the building lay. She began to recognize some of the faded street signs around them, as well as the weathered exteriors of the small shops and apartments that lay scattered around them. A thick haze had settled into the air, moisture evaporating with the sun's return as the cool weather of the night lifted into humid warmth. Perhaps spring was finally ready to return. The street was quiet, calm, welcoming to their bleary eyes.

And yet as the arched roof of the theater came into view, something did not quite feel right.

She opened her mouth to say something, sound coming out and faltering, and both Nadir and Erik paused, turning back to look at her. She could see the question in Erik's eyes, before he, too, seemed to go still.

The haze in the air was thick, and the warmth returned, dusted to them on a light breeze. Erik broke away from them, rounding the corner that led to the grand avenue up to the building, and she followed in quick successive footsteps, nearly running into his back when he came to an abrupt, sharp stop.

A plume of smoke began to rise from the theater's arched roof, an acrid tinge of burnt wood and melted plastic that spread into the air, and they all stared in horror as the large tower perched at the forefront of the building suddenly burst outward with a large boom.

if you want to hear more of me bitching about writing this, follow me over on tumblr at 'aminta' :)