Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

Well, thank you for your wait! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it. The next should be on it's way the week after next because I'm going on a trip and probably won't be able to write let alone post so, this all for now.

sarahandmarquis

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▪ Chapter 7 ▪

The plucking of violin strings woke her from her second nap of the night, this one upright and wrapped cozily in a nest of pillows and the fleece blanket. Light, streaming through one of the high windows, stung her pupils. Rubbing her eyes, she turned away and saw Erik, possessing perfect posture, picking a string to test its tone.

"Ah, Mademoiselle." The violin found a comfortable spot on the settee as its owner abandoned its curved body to consult the sleepy girl on the couch. "You're awake."

"When did I fall asleep again?" She asked, stepping out of the cocoon and scowling at the wrinkles over her entire skirt.

"When Sarah, Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus reached the Goblin City. You missed... the best song of the whole... movie." The corners of his mouth tugged upward but he stymied the expression. She is so beautiful, just woken.

"And, that song would be?" A teasing smile trembled at the edges of ruby lips and a spot of glitter sparkled in blue eyes.

"'With In You.'" He replied, catching the blanket before it tumbled to the ground and draped it over the back of her couch. "The entire set up was inspired. And, the music was nice."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Why didn't you wake me?"

"You... looked..." He hesitated to tell her exactly how long his golden eyes had lingered on her sleeping form before he fetched his violin. "As if you needed rest." He concluded, leaving the real reason unspoken and a moderately truthful comment between them.

"I probably did. I didn't realize I was so sleep. I'm sorry for falling asleep on your couch a second time. I won't do it again." Red stained porcelain cheeks beneath the smudged makeup. Once was bad enough! But, twice!

"No!" His vocal cords acted without restraint. Shame flooded his face and he ducked his head. "No, it's... not a problem." Turning from her, he absentmindedly rubbed a morphine mark beneath his sleeve. "You are... uh... free to sleep here... whenever you need it. The couch is yours." I'll never sit on it again.

"That's not necessary! I wouldn't want to intrude." Her fingers fluttered busily over wrinkles and one finger discovered a lock of hair to tangle around itself. I am an embarrassment. I barely know this man and I'm already sleeping on his couch as if I were an old friend.

"No intrusion." He assured. "If the couch is not satisfactory, there is a spare bedroom."

"You have a spare bedroom?" Tilting her head, adorably, her eyes pierced his, asking the question he had long demanded of himself. Why had he ordered a spare bedroom made, airy with flowered wallpaper?

"Yes... I don't know why..." He trailed off and, noticing his knees trembling, took advantage of the settee opposite her. It's not as if I have visitors.

"It's always good to have a spare bedroom. If for nothing else than for storage." She stretched, joint popping quietly under the gentle strain. "It's very kind of you to offer but I don't know if it would be proper." A gentle smile caressed his eyes before she reached out and brushed his hands, locked across his boney knees.

"Ah, forgive me." He whispered, voice barely carrying beyond the mask. I must have missed the social rule. I hope she won't hold it against me! "Are you hungry?" Abruptly changing the subject, he bounded to his feet and broke all physical contact. "Surely you must be? Supper was... a long time ago."

"Oh no, I'm fine. I usually don't eat breakfast anyway." It won't matter to him that is usually because I don't have anything for breakfast. "I'll just gather my things and go home. I have to be at work in two hours anyway." Soft feet struck hardwood floor as she grappled for her white boots and socks, items of her outfit which had been quickly shed during the runtime of the movie in favor of more comfortable seating. Folding her skirt in ripples on her thighs, she yanked the simple white socks up her calves and tugged on the boots before locking the zipper and tucking the edges of the socks into their white confines.

"If you're sure..." While attempting to occupy his eyes elsewhere from her legs, he fiddled with his hands before clasping fingers behind his back. "I wouldn't want you to go home hungry."

"Don't worry. I won't. But, I really do have to run." Maybe next time I will be more professional. Standing up, she breezed by him towards the entryway where her purse still hung, unexpectedly abandoned overnight. Snatching it off the hooks, she slung it over her shoulder just as he followed her.

"If you must." He replied, still attempting to breath after the breath of light perfume still clinging faintly to her form.

"Thank you for letting me sleep. I'll try to do better next time."

"Please, think nothing of it." Seeing she needed a little reassuring on that point, Erik attempted to form words. "I..." How does one comfort a lady? "What are friends for?" The words rang terribly cliché even to him but what else could he say?

"I shall defer to your judgement. So, uh, same time next week?"

Ah, the bed comment wasn't too much of a problem. Oh good.

"Yes, I don't see why not. Be safe driving home." His eyes softened and she smiled before stepping out the door before she paused,

"Take good care of my children." Chuckling quietly to herself, she scampered down the steps and away through the thick line of trees.

I will. Ignoring the faint ache in his chest at seeing her hurrying away, he returned to the living room and gathered up her "children." There is only one place secure enough for all of you. Now, what was the code to my safe?

▪▪▪▪▪

"I'm late! I'm late! I'm so very much late!" A purse skidded across the kitchen table, teetering on the edge before tumbling to the ground. Boots clicked on the tiles before padding softly on worn carpet, only to find themselves unceremoniously tossed into a corner of the closet. The white dress, still wrinkled from her night spent on the couch, landed on the floor, kicked to the side by a slender foot.

Grasping hands yanked work clothes from their hangers and tugged them over a dancer's lean body, buttoning the buttons to the neck. Ratty tennis shoes found themselves laced over thrice-worn socks, completing the outfit.

"One quick check for messages then I have to leave." The gasping Christine declared, running from her bedroom into the kitchen and scooping up the purse with the scattered objects. After digging around for several moments, her fingers curled around her phone, buried in the bottom of the bag. She pulled out and skimmed quickly through her Facebook notifications, brushing many of the friend requests aside.

"I don't even know the people who are our mutual friends. I most certainly don't know you." Perhaps it didn't help that all the friends she had were two old high school chums who hadn't spoken to her since graduation, an ex-boyfriend who, if pictures told any kind of story, had a happy marriage and a baby girl with the woman he'd dumped her for, and, one of her mother's dancing troop, who had been present at her mother's funeral and offered a shoulder to cry but hadn't shown her face since, let alone responded to the former eighteen-year-old whose naiveté had thought she might answer.

A comment regarding her pitifulness later, she closed the app and refreshed her email, shocked to find among the myriad of ads and coupons, a friend request from The Friend Shop.

Dear Ms. Christine,

If the company of an aging cop isn't offensive to your taste, I would be honored if you would consider me for an addition to your clientele. Please respond at your earliest convenience so, if you accept, we may arrange a meeting at the restaurant of your choosing.

Yours sincerely, Nadir Khan

"Well, at least he's polite." After studying his profile picture for a moment, the green eyes framed in dark bronze features and graying hair casting a fatherly light on the viewer, she clicked on the picture, leading her to his profile page.

Simplicity reigned in the completed form, filled with just enough information to interest Christine but leaving enough to allow for some conversation during a meeting.

"I don't see why not." Pressing the accept button, she tossed her phone back into her purse and thought little of her newly acquired client in her mad rush to get to work.

▪▪▪▪▪

Your invitation has been accepted. You are now connected to the Private Messenger with Christine Day.

"Excellent. Maybe she knows something of this creature." Bronze fingers tapped a shot glass before the officer downed it. "Tonight, I will message her. and, perhaps with some very little luck, I will catch before the month is up."

▪▪▪▪▪

Violin strings dug into the strong calluses, turning the skin red from over-use.

"A break then." He declared, setting aside the precious instrument and tucking the several sheets of paper dedicated to his newest muse in the case. His latest commission taunted him from the corner of the table, the demand a simple piece hardly taxing on his skills as a composer.

I shall do it tomorrow.

Noting his trembling fingers, he abandoned the music room stepped down to the hall to his office, where a prepared syringe awaited him, his seductive lover the only one who desired his body. A needle prick later, his weary veins bore the poisonous load through his system, allowing him a moment of quiet before his free hand flicked open the computer and checked his email, empty of any new correspondence.

A desire to see his muse's face drove him beyond his email to her profile page and several moments passed filled with him studying her face before concluding one day he must draw her.

She will make any piece of art divine.

His eyes flickered momentarily from her face to one word in the lower left-hand corner which read "Friends." Before, the number one had occupied the space, a bit of selfish consolation on his part that she had no one else to compare him to. His severe flaws couldn't have been seen so easily with no normal human set in her mind for comparison.

The number was now two.

The morphine failed in its job for a moment as his heart spasmed in panic and he immediately clicked on the number to see if he could find the name of this new "friend" of hers. Who is my composition for her time?

"Curse you!" He shouted at the monitor when several futile attempts brought nothing, not even a name to his eyes. Apparently, they like secrets. It didn't even cross his mind how helpful the feature was to him.

When the moment of jealous panic had passed, horrified realization jammed its way into his brain.

She'll leave. She'll know how much I've failed in my duty as a friend and a host. Goodness knows how many social rules I've broken, unable to be repaired even by the grandest and most sincere of apologies. Not to mention the crime of this face.

Shattered, he lowered the crime into his hands and shook with pent up pain.

"I'm losing Beauty."