Christine

December 1886

Climbing up the rolling hill, breathing heavily as the smoke of her breath puffed outwards, Christine reached her goal: finding her son. Much to her distress, he was standing near an unknown man. They appeared to be speaking to one another. Upon further inspection, however, it looked as if he saved her boy; the taller figure in the distance was holding Traveler, patting her in order to calm the animal down. Nevertheless, the worried mother continued on, clutching Josephine in her arms as she approached the two with renewed anxiety.

Nadir immediately took note of the figure hastily approaching him. So this must be the mythical goddess Erik had spoke of. Christine. Nadir had pitied any woman who would bind herself to such a man as his friend, not just for his face, but his strange behavior and eccentricity. He didn't know what he had assumed, but he did not envision Erik's wife to look like this. Although tousled and worry-ridden, she was beautiful. Erik had not exaggerated about that. Her chestnut curls, tied up, much to their protest, poked out in various ways, as consequence to the violent exercise. It was quite charming.

And the small child in her arms? Had she remarried? Surely, a lovely woman such as herself could easily have. His heart dropped. Erik had loved her fiercely, but perhaps she had moved on. For all she knew, he could be dead by now! After all, it had been nearly four years. He did not know what his friend's reaction would be if Christine had remarried, surely nothing positive would come from it. He grimly imagined Erik being consumed in a fit of jealous rage, the anger that could powerfully take hold, overcoming his better knowledge and conscience. Her clear voice broke this thought, however.

"Alexandre!" She called. He ran to her, and she embraced him fiercely, holding the back of his head protectively.

"I am sorry, mama." He broke the embrace, hanging his head ashamedly.

"Are you alright, Ma cher?" She began inspecting for possible injury, lifting arms, feeling ribs, like any mother would.

"Yes, mama."

She lightly pressed the palms of her hands to his cheeks. "Alexandre, you musn't do such reckless things! You could have been killed! I was worried sick!"

The young boy merely hid his face downwards, hiding his shame.

"Monsieur Khan helped me."

Khan. She knew that name. Christine glanced upwards, suddenly remembering the presence of the stranger. So her estimation was correct, partially. She noticed no barking from the dogs, they merely sat, panting in the cold. The man had darker features, he looked to be Middle Eastern. Recovering her memory of those years ago, clouded over by the emotional fog of her husband leaving, she realized that she did know that name. This was the man that had sent the letter that had changed everything. From her intuition, he was one of Erik's few trusted friends, if not allies. What was he doing here? She immediately thought of the worst. Was he informing her of Erik's death? No, surely it was not possible. She loathed to believe it. Could she trust him? Regardless, he had just saved her son. Now it was her turn to thank him. Placing Josephine down, she faced him.

"Monsieur Khan, I must thank you for saving my boy. I do not know what I would do without him." It came out exasperated, yet honest.

"Madame, I am glad that I could be of service." He dipped his head downwards, revealing peppered black hair.

Her breath caught in her throat. Surely he knew who she was. Erik must have told him sometime, why else would he be here? Gathering all the courage she could muster, she addressed him with a genuine smile.

"Monsieur Khan, I believe we know of each other. I am Christine. It is a pleasure to finally meet you." She reached out a hand in greeting.

"I feel likewise. You have raised a most adventurous young boy. He is much like his father."

Alexandre beamed at that. Christine let out a light laugh, it almost sounded weak.

She did not know why he was here. Not yet. The information he knew was probably the subject on both of their minds. Her nerves bit at her. Just as she had almost lost her son that day, she could also lose her husband. She dared not think of it. Pushing the dark thought to the recesses of her mind, she turned back to the man standing before her, remembering proper etiquette.

"You have already met Alexandre." She said with smile. "This is my daughter, Josephine."

Any question that Nadir had in regards to Christine remarrying were thrown out the window. This was unmistakably, irrevocably, Erik's daughter. And he had thought his son looked like him. Although no facial deformity, the small girl looked like a small version of his masked friend. With thick black locks, she displayed defined eyebrows, a wide mouth, and sharp cheekbones. The girl's expression looked a century old. The child's yellow eyes stared quizzically upon his person. He had seen those eyes before, they seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Collecting himself, he lowered down, offering out a hand.

"Hello, Josephine. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Nadir."

She hesitantly took it, not being accustomed to grown men. Still, she summoned up her courage and smiled at him. Her mother had taught her proper manners, after all.

Christine almost laughed at the exchange. He certainly looked shocked! Of course he did not know of another child, as even her husband was not yet aware. Josephine was odd enough looking for anyone to take in. She was beautiful, yes, but not in the way Christine looked. Christine possessed a soft kind of beauty, lovely and pleasant. Her daughter, on the other hand, held a kind of regal, stark definition of beauty. At the age of three her face was already defined in its expression, captivating in its uniqueness.

"Monsieur Khan, please, come inside to my home. I am planning on making a fine supper. I am sure you have travelled a long ways to find us here. You are a very welcome guest."

And so, upon thanking his gracious host, the former daroga followed the lady of the house and her two children, offering to put away both horses in his gratitude. Showing him up to his room, he gladly found that she had drawn him a most welcome bath, after being on the road for several months. She was about to leave him to freshen up for supper, when she remembered something.

"Monsieur, you are most likely wondering why there are two children instead of one."

Yes, that was something that passed through his mind. But what could he say? He remained silent.

"A few weeks following Erik's departure, I discovered I was pregnant. It was something I had not prepared for." Why did she feel she could trust this man with personal matters on after just meeting his acquaintance? Perhaps this quality is what Erik saw in Khan. Breaking out of the sentimentality, she realized she must prepare for the evening meal, as well as give Alexandre a stern talking to. Her son would be tracing letters for weeks.

"I will leave you to your devices, I shall be serving beef bourguignon." And with that she went to find her son.

So Erik had a daughter. And he did not know. He remembered spending those brief hours with his son when he was that young age. He remarked on how fast Reza had grown, longing for those days to repeat themselves somehow. How would he react? Surely Christine had thought of this many, many times. Nadir felt like he was cheating his friend, in that he had met Josephine before her father had. He only could pray that Erik would return soon, so as not to miss those fleeting moments of childhood in his daughter.

It was at this moment that he missed his wife, missed her feminine presence and gentle smiles. His son Reza had been only a few years older than Alexandre upon his death. Nadir was thankful that he could prevent such a disaster from taking place that day. He did not know how long the boy would have been able to keep hold of the mare. The loss of a child, whether drawn out, like Reza's, or sudden, is the greatest of any that one can experience. Nadir would not wish it upon the Shah himself.

Dinner was a welcome affair. Following several poor meals on the road, his tongue expressed its joy at the first taste of decent food in months. Finishing the fine supper, and chuckling at the children's disappointment in finding they had to go to bed, when such an interesting guest was present, the light tone shifted. Christine reappeared in the room silent and severe. She had waited for this all evening, mutely preparing herself. Her emotion that was kept quiet for years threatened to come back out. Still, she approached him calmly, sitting down at the dining table, in the spot Erik had been the night before his departure.

"Monsieur Kha-"

He waved out a hand, knowing the reasoning behind her behavior. With the children gone, their innocent ears put to sleep, now was her chance to discover the truth about Erik. It was his reason for coming here, anyway. Such an intimate conversation offered no place for formalities.

"Please, call me Nadir."

"Then you may call me Christine." She had agreed then. Her posture was straight. It looked as if she were preparing. Preparing for the worst.

"I will begin with what you will most likely like to hear first. Your husband is alive."

A literal breath of relief escaped her chest. Her hand clutched the delicate fabric of her dress, the other caught the edge of the tablecloth. The room was painfully still. She began to cry, the years of suppressed apprehension towards her husband's possible death, always weighing upon her very soul finally being released. Erik still lived, thank God. Christine often thought about the possibility that he may never return, and would then push it immediately to the back of her mind, forcing her attentions elsewhere. He had survived. But then again, how could she think any less of him? He was the strongest person she knew. Presently, it seemed silly to ever believe that her husband could be killed so easily. Her angel seemed immortal at times, recalling those days of her youth. Now her hope was confirmed. Now he could come back to her. Whatever had gone awry, he still had a chance to come home. To meet his daughter. She would rest on her knees for hours that night, thanking God for his act of mercy, an answer to all her prayers of the last six years.

Even after such revelation, she felt embarrassed, acting so emotional in front of a man she had just met. Briskly wiping away tears, Christine placed his hand in the both of hers. Her damp eyes spoke a thousand sentiments.

"Thank you, Nadir. You do not know what you have done for us."

The months of travel were well worth it witnessing the expression of gratitude on this young woman's face. It was then that Nadir knew that Christine truly loved the masked man. Any doubts of her devotion for his friend were cast aside right then and there. He would not have believed it without seeing her response at that dimly lit dining room table. Unsure in his ability of offering anything by way of comfort, he placed his free hand on top of hers, giving a quick bow of the head in acknowledgement. She released him, leaning back to a more relaxed position.

"Please, tell me everything. Where is he? What happened?"

What had happened? That was the question. He mulled over the possible ways he could articulate such a story. Erik trusted her with the truth, he knew as much. Still, it was difficult to speak with a woman about that danger her husband had gotten himself into, to word it in such a way that was comprehensible yet not brutal. He owed her the strength of his candor. She had not heard a word of him for four years, after all. Nadir decided to begin with the easier explanation, regarding Erik's whereabouts.

"I believe Erik is somewhere is Eastern Europe, possibly Russia."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. But she did not cut in. She wanted to know everything, and she would mutely push him to speak. So, his weak attempt to side-step the conversation had failed. He gave into her refusal to yield.

"Something went very wrong. The Shah found out about Erik's connection to… you."

They both drew in deep breaths. This is what Erik was ultimately afraid of. But how did they discover it? Erik was a secretive man, even she did not know everything.

"He had suspected from the beginning something was wrong. Erik was… shall you say, different- than before. He is not the man he used to be, I have witnessed it."

She merely nodded in concurrence. He was right in that assumption.

"It was as if he did not care about, anything, really. The Shah wanted to know the reasoning behind this change; he expressed so much to me. He would offer him hashish, command him to perform his 'tricks', like before, but in every instance Erik refused. Except completing the palace, of course. There were constant delays to the project, labor shortages, accidents, and both he and the Shah grew increasingly tense by the closing of every day."

He told her of that day at court, told her of the violence that ensued because of an image. And how the new former Daroga of Mazandaran and Angel of Doom had fled the country, covered in blood not their own.

"We were nearing the border of Romania, just leaving the Ottoman Empire, when he told me that it was time to part ways. I protested, but you know Erik. He would not budge. It was him they were after, anyway. I was wanted for siding with him, yes, but if the Shah's men had to make a choice of who to follow, they would choose Erik. We agreed that it was best for me to come here, inform you of his situation, and that he would try to lose them somewhere farther North. Perhaps they have already given up their doomed quest. That morning he drew me a map of where I could find you, and I left."

Christine was still silent. She just needed time to process this. Erik had been running, all alone, for years. She had promised she never would again, but she pitied him. Cursed to live a life a restlessness when there was a family that loved him. That was waiting for him and wanted him back. She stood and went to leave for her room to do the only thing she could. Pray.

"There are books in the parlor, and wood near to the fireplace, should you wish to stay up." Ever the dutiful host.

"Christine." Nadir called from his seat. She turned.

"Before we parted, he made me swear to tell you one thing. That he will not delay."

She relaxed a bit. Soon. It meant very soon.