Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

You owe this chapter to casuallllfollower. She is the one who picked the plot of this from the three possible plots in my head. As you can probably tell, I rely on her a lot. She is awesome.

Enjoy and don't forget to comment what you think!

sarahlet2999

----------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 11

.

.

"Erik!" Christine gasped, hopping off the cold counter and dropping down beside the fallen man. His chest rose and fell faintly but he didn't stir from his sprawled position on the kitchen floor. Surprisingly enough, the memory of her tenth-grade health class returned and she fetched several pillows from the living room to prop his feet up above his head. The next step her mind reminded her of made her nervous.

I've never touched men's clothing before, let alone had to loosen it while someone wore it.

But, he needed to be able to breathe freely so she carefully unbuttoned his suit jacket and, being very careful not to touch anything other than the metal and leather, unbuckled his buckle to free his stomach. The top buttons of shirt soon followed, revealing gray skin that concerned Christine.

He isn't healthy.

As the clock slowly ticked towards a minute of unconsciousness, she began to wonder if calling 911 would be a wise move. When she finally decided she would call them and had stood up to dial the number, a muffled groan escaped Erik as his eyes blinked blearily.

"Oh! Thank all that is holy!" She exclaimed, sliding down beside and hovering over him. "How do you feel? I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I'm so sorry!"

"Why are there two of you?" He whispered, reaching up towards empty air beside her face.

"You probably have a mild concussion. Let me call an ambulance and get you to the hospital to make sure you're going to be okay." She moved to stand but his hand grappled for her wrist, holding her tightly despite his weakness.

"No!" He attempted to shout, ending up merely releasing a large amount of air with the gasp. "Don't call them. Please don't. I hate the hospital."

"But I have to make sure you didn't do any serious damage." She insisted, trying to gently peal his fingers off her wrist so she could reach the phone.

"Just help me to my bed. I'll be fine." He tried to stand but his head spun and he felt backward a little ways, connecting with the floor again.

"Okay." She responded, exceptionally reluctant to move him in his state but aware he wouldn't relent. "But, if anything changes, I will call 911. You won't be able to stop me." She bent down over him and hooked her elbows under his arms, dragging him upward and using her slim body to hold his while he swayed on his feet, dizzy.

"Go up the stairs, two doors down on your left." He instructed her, unhappy with leaning against her but knowing if he tried to stand on his own feet he would hit the ground again before he could take a step. As his head lulled against her shoulder, the heat from her skin burned his skin and he realized his suit jacket hung unbuttoned.

"What did you do?" He gasped, tempted to clutch the edges of his shirt closed to keep his awful gray skin concealed from her.

"I had to loosen your clothing so you could breathe." She remarked, realizing that he had never showed her any part of his body, even the usual parts such as hands or neck and his face always carried that mask. "You don't have to be ashamed of how your skin looks. It doesn't bother me." The pallor reminds me of a corpse but I can live with that. It's just a peculiarity of his and I don't want to lose him over something so trivial.

"Bother you!" He almost laughed as they reached the upstairs landing. "How could it not? It's hideous."

"It is not!" She exclaimed emphatically, finding that speaking the words only solidified her feelings in her mind. He began to respond when she hushed him and opened the door to his bedroom, the heavy door swinging to reveal a completely black room reminding her of an oppressive abyss.

Flicking on a light, she gasped in utter horror at the furnishings of the nearly bare room. From the center of the ceiling, sheer red curtains hung down, cloaking a spacious black coffin in a blood red light. The finest black silk lined the hardwood sides and black sheets spread through the coffin revealed its true purpose as Erik's bed.

"No." She resolutely exclaimed. "I refuse to let you sleep there. Where is your spare bedroom?" She demanded, turning to face the exhausted masked man. His golden eyes looked up at her, confusion read in the depths of the liquid gold.

"Why? What's wrong with my bed?"

"It's not a bed. It's a coffin. Please, let's find you a proper bed." She flipped the light off and he wearily gave her in the instructions for the spare bedroom, too exhausted to even fight her. The spare bedroom proved much more appealing, light and airy and colored as a proper bedroom should be. In the center, a nice four-poster bed stood with a white quilt draped over it and several throw pillows laying against the headboard.

A rosewood dress stood in one corner, the white pull-handles darkened with dust. A neat little bathroom opened to her left and a bookshelf occupied the wall beside the door leading outward. All in all, the place oozed hominess.

"Here." She gently helped him to sit down on the end of the bed and turned down the covers, helping him to lay down before tucking him under the warm blankets. "How do you feel? Are you sure I don't need to call 911?"

He slowly shook his head and closed his eyes, wincing against the light coming through the windows.

"Close the curtains, will you?" He requested.

"Of course." She stepped away from his bedside and closed them, shedding the room in darkness. "Anything else you need? Does your head hurt?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and lightly touched his forehead, frowning as he flinched away.

"I'm fine." He whispered, tendrils of shame creeping around his heart at her expression. I'm sorry, Beauty. I'm not used to being coddled.

"Are you hungry?" He shook his head, unsure how to feel about the concern in her eyes. "Why did I lose consciousness?" He asked.

"You don't remember?" She inquired.

"It was something about your new 'friend.'"

"Yes, it was. I told you about a friend he used to have when he was a young man. A friend he called Ami because he didn't have a name. Was...was that you?" She asked, brushing a yellow lock of hair from her eyes and peering down at her patient. What a stroke of luck! My "friends" used to know each other!

"It is highly unlikely that I am not the boy he referred to. Did he...did he express any desire to see me again?" He sounded almost shy, scared, and it threw her off for a moment. Taking his gloved hand in hers and lightly rubbing the back to comfort him, she said,

"Yes, he did. He said he looked for you and couldn't find you. Why..." She continued speaking but his eyes focused on her fingers, hard at work. She touches me willingly. She knows what lays beneath the gloves, ugly gray skin. I fainted on her, ruined a perfectly pleasant evening. His mind failed to hear her words, concentrated only on the kind touch he had been denied his whole life. Her hands were so warm and soft, but deceptively strong and limber. Fingers were cut short and painted with clear nail polish. A cute white scar blazed over her right pointer finger, just below the middle knuckle. A few freckles dotted the back of her hands.

"Erik?" She lightly called him, jerking him from his stupor.

"Yes?" He stammered, glancing up into her worried blue eyes. They are so beautiful. Sapphires locked in an angel's alabaster face.

"I asked why he wouldn't want to see you again."

"I ruined his family." He replied quietly, breaking his eyes away from her, unable to bear the expression that would surely take over her face.

"What happened?" Her voice remained calm and concerned, surprising considering that he had just told her he had ruined a man's whole world.

"His mother was a kind woman. She wanted a child so badly." His mind drifted back many years, back to when he had been a little boy craving for attention from anyone. "The woman who birthed me threw me out and I had no one else to go to. She took me in, promised to raise me as her own. Promised to love-" His voice cracked, tears gathering in his eyes despite his attempt to keep them back.

"It's okay." She whispered soothingly, slipping off his gloves and trying to warm his bare hands, ignoring the scars covering his gray, boney fingers.

"I was happy for the first time in my life. I had a mother who wanted me, who didn't ask about this." He absentmindedly waved a hand towards his masked face. "But, she grew curious. When Nadir and his father were away one day, she demanded I reveal my face. She...she p-promised it wouldn't change anything!"

He tried to swallow his tears and found himself struggling to continue. Why am I sharing this with her? The question gnawed at him until he looked into her eyes again, finding compassion pooling in them. If I tell her, will she hate me? Will she leave when she finds out I am nothing more than a reclusive monster hiding away behind a false face.

"I s-showed her. She screamed. Oh, how she screamed!" He closed his eyes and the shrieks of the woman echoed in his ears. "I ran. I came back a year later and found she had died, never having recovered from the shock. I killed her, Christine. I killed with this...face." He clutched at his mask, pressing it firmly against his face, panicking for a moment that curiosity might drive her to discover what lay beneath the porcelain.

"Oh, Erik." She moaned, pulling him against her and rocking him back and forth. Feeling him fighting back the tears, she lightly rubbed his back. "It's okay to cry. It's okay. Her death wasn't your fault." She continued to murmur calming nonsense to him as he sobbed into her shoulder, releasing all the pent-up pain. His arms curled around her waist as he buried his head against her bosom, feeling he stole the comfort despite her providing it freely.

After a while, his tears faded and he felt horribly embarrassed as his display.

"Erik is so sorry." He whispered. "I've ruined your dress. I'll replace it." He tried to assure her before being unceremoniously shushed.

"No, you didn't ruin it. It'll wash."

"At very least, I ruined your evening." How shall I ever receive forgiveness? Our first meeting after my return and I ruin it.

"It wasn't the evening I came expecting but, you didn't ruin it. We're friends, Erik. That means I'll be here for you when you need it. And, you will be here for me when I need it." She gave him a smile and tucked him back under the covers once more.

"You are too good..." He whispered, his eyes dropping from exhaustion and before she formulated a reply for his comment, he drifted off to dreamless sleep.

Seeing he had left the land of the awake, she made sure the pillows were comfortable for his head and the blankets would keep him warm. As she stood up to return downstairs, her eyes drifted to the hard mask, digging into his face while he slept.

Torn between leaving him to his discomfort and risking seeing what he had strained to keep hidden for so long, she finally concluded what she would do. Retaking her seat, she reached behind his head, her fingers shaking as she pulled the strings loose, careful not to catch any hair that might tug and wake him. When the strings gave way, releasing the mask from his face, she hesitated before slipping her hands from behind his head and leaving the mask resting on his face. If it grows uncomfortable, it will fall free so it wouldn't dig into his face.

"Sleep well, Erik." She whispered to him, slipping out of the room and back down to the kitchen for supper. I will stay here until he wakes up to make sure that concussion doesn't become dangerous.

Besides, the roast still smelled delicious.