Chapter 26

Suspension of Disbelief

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Geoffrey still couldn't make himself move into what he considered to be Erik's office - the private suite on the top floor. Switching the lights on in the reception area, he realized that it was still early and it would be at least another hour before Shay arrived. He moved across the thick carpet to his old office and unlocked the door.

"Good morning, Riggs. Glad you're an early riser."

Geoffrey almost jumped out of his skin and his heart hammered in his chest.

"Damn it, Micheil! You scared the crap out of me." What a way to start a morning, Geoffrey thought with irritation. He had been considering calling Micheil to run some ideas by him for helping Christine and Erik, and to ask for his help, but hadn't yet decided if it was wise. Discretion was usually the better part of valor when dealing with the two brothers Geoffrey had learned.

"How in the hell did you get in here anyway?" He asked the smirking Micheil.

"You don't need to worry - this place is actually very secure. I ought to know; I designed the security for Erik."

"So what are you doing here - testing it?"

Micheil chuckled. "No, Riggs. I wanted to ask you about Erik's little songbird."

"Christine Davis? What about her?" Geoffrey asked, wondering what Micheil knew about Christine and her relationship to Erik.

"Is Cry Me a River part of her repertoire, because she's certainly been doing plenty of that lately," Micheil informed Geoffrey. "Do you happen to know what she's so upset about?"

"How in the hell do you know Christine has been crying and upset?" Geoffrey asked, becoming concerned for his star now that Erik was no longer watching over her.

"My company has her under pretty tight guard and twenty-four hour surveillance. One of Erik's last requests as it were." Micheil supplied.

Geoffrey thought about what and how much to tell Micheil before deciding to tell him the truth.

"I don't know much - she's never really talked to me about their relationship, only begged me for a new phone number for Erik after he'd ditched the old one when he went underground. I do know that she's taken his "death" pretty hard. Much harder than I had anticipated." Erik would probably kill him if he ever found out that he had talked to Micheil about Christine.

"Thanks, Riggs. You've confirmed my suspicions. Knowing my pig headed brother, he'd never do anything about it, so I propose that we help the two love birds along."

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was perfect - Micheil would be the one to take Erik's wrath if he didn't appreciate their interference. "What do you have in mind?"

"Simple. I'll take her to him. Disguised of course, in case anyone is watching her. I'll put a look alike in her apartment to keep anyone from becoming curious as to her whereabouts - your job is to keep the press away from her - while I whisk Christine out of the country."

Geoffrey had to admire the simplicity of the plan, although he worried about one major detail. "And what do you think Erik's reaction will be to Christine showing up on his doorstep?"

Micheil shrugged, obviously not concerned. "This is the first and only woman he's ever cared about. Erik is probably doing the 'poor, ugly me - I don't deserve her' routine. Trust me, he'll be thrilled to see her."

Geoffrey had to think that Micheil was right where Erik was concerned, although he never would have had the audacity to put it quite that way. He'd always thought that Erik had placed way too much emphasis on his face, and obviously, Christine had been able to see past it to the man inside. Good for her - she was not only supremely talented but wise as well.

"Give me a week to get the paperwork in order and to make the travel arrangements. Make sure she's packed and ready to go," Micheil said, moving to the door.

"What do you want me to tell her?" Geoffrey wondered.

"Tell her she's going to see the world's richest horse race - the Dubai World Cup." Micheil winked and was gone.

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Erik sat at the grand piano in his state of the art music room/recording studio glaring at the keyboard. The only music in his head, the only voice he heard, was hers. Christine's music. Christine's voice. He had been trying to compose to get his mind off of her, but to no avail. Somewhere along the line she had changed him utterly. He no longer desired solitude, no longer cared to shun society and all of humanity. He found that he actually missed sparring with Geoffrey, missed his long phone conversations with Dr. Miller about the progress of his program and the men under his care, but most of all, he missed Christine. Missed their recording sessions and brainstorming over compositions with her. Missed her voice, her eyes, her laughter. He missed her.

More and more he thought about asking her to join him. How much worse would it be if he asked her and she turned him down? At least he would have tried; he wouldn't have taken the coward's way out. She had declared that she loved him. Should he put her to the test? She had certainly passed the test of being able to look at his unmasked face without flinching. Perhaps that was love.

Angrily, he pushed away from the instrument and paced back to the living room, restless. The bank of windows showed him a breathtaking view of the Gulf, littered with expensive yachts. He watched for a moment as a speck in the sky approached and grew larger until he could tell that it was a helicopter, coming in for a landing atop his building. This was not at all an unusual occurrence as many of the condominium owners were wealthy enough to own their own jets and helicopters.

Erik sighed heavily, thankful that no one was around to hear him give in to the ridiculous, melodramatic gesture. Whoever was arriving at the building that afternoon via helicopter, they certainly weren't coming to visit him. And worse, he couldn't go anywhere in his own jet, registered now to his newest reincarnation and waiting patiently in a hangar at the airport. He and Micheil had agreed that it would be safer if he lay low for several months just to make sure that the plan had indeed been successful. He felt like the proverbial prisoner in a gilded cage.

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Christine's knuckles were white from gripping the hand strap so tightly. She felt like she was bouncing around unprotected in space, hundreds of feet above the ocean. She tried to look anywhere but down but it was virtually impossible in the small helicopter. She glanced over at Erik's brother, who was calmly texting on his phone, seemingly oblivious to the noise and vibration of the machine in which they rode.

When Geoffrey had first told her of her destination barely a week ago, she had shrieked, "Dubai?" at practically the full volume of a voice capable of filling an arena. He had refused to answer any more of her questions, saying only that she needed to be ready to leave in a week. Christine had finally understood in a blinding revelation one night just before she fell asleep that this is what Erik had meant by not believing anything she heard in the media about him - he hadn't meant the wild speculation about his businesses and him personally, but the entire report of his death itself.

She had been understandably hurt and angry at having been deceived, but over the intervening week, she had calmed down considerably, realizing that Erik would only have pulled a stunt like this if his life had truly been in danger and he had no other option.

Christine had had a further shock when she opened her door the morning they were to depart to find not only Erik's brother, Micheil, whom she had never met, but also a fairly plump Middle Eastern woman with him. The shock had only deepened when the woman emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later looking thirty pounds lighter, her scrubbed face now several shades fairer, and carrying a black wig along with the clothing and extra padding she had just taken off. Christine found herself staring incredulously into the face of a woman who could be her own twin.

She gasped in surprise and turned to Micheil for an explanation.

"Christine, meet Gillian. She'll be staying here in your apartment in Toronto while you're gone. Geoffrey knows about this of course, and he'll keep the press away from her. This should nip in the bud any speculation as to your whereabouts."

He took the wig, the traditional clothing and the fat suit from Gillian and handed them to Christine. "Here, go put these on. As soon as you're dressed, Gillian will help you with the wig and make-up. We'll be traveling as husband and wife on passports from the United Arab Emirates." Speechless, Christine took the costume from Micheil and did as she was told.

Most of the trip had been quite comfortable even with the extra padding and swathed in the traditional dress of an Arab woman as they had flown in a private jet owned by the ruling family of Dubai. However, for the trip from the airport to to Erik's residence, they were crammed into a warm helicopter, and Christine was feeling claustrophobic and light-headed. She hoped they were going to land soon. To take her mind off of her distress, she tried to make conversation with Micheil.

"What did Erik say when he spoke with you about taking me to him?" She inquired.

An unreadable look passed over Micheil's face before he answered. "For security reasons, Christine, I haven't been in contact with Erik."

Christine gulped in shock. "He doesn't know I'm coming? Surely you know he doesn't like surprises. He may not even let us in."

Micheil laughed, thinking how he had broken into Erik's loft. "Don't worry, we'll get in. Trust me, I know my brother and I know he'll be glad to see you."

"Glad to see me? Surely you're not serious? He'll be glad to kill us both more likely!"

Micheil observed her silently for a moment, and Christine could see what almost looked like tenderness in his eyes. Micheil's eyes were a warmer brown than Erik's and not nearly as penetrating or as frightening.

He sighed and then spoke.

"Christine, everyone in Erik's life, and I do mean everyone with the exception of me, has hated and despised him. Even our own parents. He has been abused, tortured, and ridiculed. He's never had a relationship of any kind with a human being that didn't involve pain and suffering. Until you. So it is understandable that he's run from a relationship with you, even though I suspect he loves you. As brave and as unflinching as he can be in the face of overwhelming odds and even pain and torture - and believe me, I've seen him do it - he is terrified of the pain of a relationship with you." Micheil paused and looked out the window, deep in thought, before he turned back to her and continued.

"You were the main reason that he faked his own death and left behind everything that he's built. I know because it is my business to know, that the men who were pursuing him were unaware of the identities of the people in Erik's life. However, it wouldn't have taken them much longer to find you, and Geoffrey as well as any of the other people involved with Shadow and Erik's other companies. But especially you. And I cannot even begin to describe to you the horror that they would have inflicted upon you until you begged for your own death. So don't worry, little songbird, Erik will be happy you've come."

Christine could only hope so, but she had her doubts. Serious doubts. Which Erik would greet her: the one who refused to let her into his loft and left her standing out in the cold, or the one who sent her ivory roses? She'd know soon enough.

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"Afif al Jameel bin Ahmed al-Batoushi?" Erik repeated into the house phone, surprised. "And his wife? Yes, all right, send them both up."

So this was who had arrived this afternoon in the helicopter - his own brother. Afif al Jameel was one of their code names for Micheil and a joke at that. Afif meant "chaste" in Arabic, while al Jameel translated as "the beautiful". But who in the world was "the wife" he had brought with him? Micheil had had a few relationships over the years, some of them close ones even, but due to his physical limitations, they had always fizzled out in the end. Or at least that is what Erik had always assumed. But then, who was he to judge? He certainly hadn't done any better in the relationship department, always placing the blame for keeping people away on his own physical problems.

He barely had to wait five minutes when the doors to the private elevator slid open, allowing Micheil and the woman with him entrance to his spacious marble tiled foyer.

"My brother enters as a normal guest. Will wonders never cease," Erik greeted with a sardonic grin. He realized that he was absurdly happy to see him. "What in the world brings you all the way here, and with a - guest?" Erik stole a quick look at the Arab woman with his brother, but quickly averted his gaze as was proper in Muslim countries.

Christine opened her mouth to address Erik, but she felt the slight movement of Micheil's hand against the small of her back and realized he wanted her to remain quiet. She was surprised, but went along with Micheil's game.

"I knew you'd be getting restless, and perhaps even," Micheil paused, a mischievous look in his eyes, "lonely? So I thought I'd come for a visit to see how you're faring, little brother. Allow me to introduce my traveling companion, Safiya. Sadly, Safiya is not my wife, but out of respect for her culture, we travelled as such." Turning to Christine, he added, "Safiya, this is my younger brother, Erik."

Christine wondered how long this charade was going to continue, but played along, only murmuring softly to Erik, "I am pleased to meet you."

Erik felt his chest clutch at the sound of the woman's voice - it reminded him so much of Christine's. But he supposed that was only because he heard her voice in his head constantly even when he wasn't playing her music.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Let me show you to the guest rooms," he said then narrowing his eyes at Micheil, he added "And then we have some catching up to do."

Erik showed them to the guest suite, two large rooms with an adjoining bath, deciding that they could figure out their own sleeping arrangements. He wasn't happy that Micheil had just shown up without warning, and Erik hoped that he had a damn good reason for the intrusion, to say nothing of the breach in security. It was often hard to tell with Micheil, but at least he didn't seem to be bearing bad news.

A half of an hour later, Erik looked up at his brother's reappearance, and was stunned. There on Micheil's arm was Christine. Christine, whom he was convinced he'd never see again. A kaleidoscope of emotions flashed through him - joy at seeing her, shock that she had come to him, anger at being manipulated by his brother.

Christine hesitated, glad to have Micheil's support as she struggled with her own conflicting feelings. She was flooded with relief at finding him alive and apparently well, but at the same time, she struggled with the idea that after the closeness they had shared for the past year, he had put her through such mind numbing grief over his faked "death".

Before Erik could recover his wits enough to speak, Christine flew at him with a shriek of rage.

"How could you do this to me?" She screamed at him, tears of anger forming, her fists hammering his chest. "How could you put me through this? I want to kill you myself!"

He caught her flailing arms effortlessly and drew her to him, pinning her against his body.

"Christine, stop. Listen to me," he said as she continued to fight him.

Christine grew still, her breath coming in short angry spurts as she glared up at him. With a final wrench of her arms, she pulled free of his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck, attacking his mouth with the same vengeance she had just attacked him.

Erik froze with shock, but as she kissed him passionately, aggressively, covering his face with kisses and pressing her body against him, he responded, finding her mouth and deepening the kiss.

Christine felt his resistance finally begin to crumble as he matched her passion and the heat rose between them.

"Get a room you two," Micheil laughed, instantly bringing them back to the present. "It looks like my work is done here."

"Where are you going?" Erik asked his brother who had already started for the door.

"To my own condo."

"What? You live here?"

Micheil laughed again at having successfully surprised his brother. "Yeah, on the floor right below you. I thought you love birds would kiss and make-up, and that I would be escorting a certain young lady between here and North America with some regularity." Micheil winked and disappeared via the front door, leaving Erik alone with Christine.

"Christine." Erik murmured to himself in disbelief. He buried his nose in her hair, tightening the embrace again. He felt her kiss the side of his neck, then his jaw before he turned his face down to hers and met her lips with his own. They kissed softly, tenderly this time, lost in the wonder of each other.

"I can't believe you're alive," she said softly, her eyes still wet with her tears.

"And I can't believe you're here," he returned, kissing her forehead before releasing her. "Come, sit down. I owe you an explanation."

He led her to the sofa and sat down with her, still not releasing her hands. He, who been in complete control of his life and the events in it since he was a young boy, had finally surrendered that control and was happier than he would have ever believed possible. Still, as much as he wanted to keep Christine here with him, it wouldn't be fair to her to ask her to stay. He refused to ask her to sacrifice her career for his own selfish motives.

Christine waited, not entirely patiently for Erik to break the silence, but when it seemed he was unable to, she spoke first.

"Tell me why you left," she began.

"I had to. Please believe me when I tell you that I would never have left you if it hadn't been absolutely necessary." He stopped and took a calming breath, finding that his heart was still pounding. He was more nervous now than he had been the night they had broken into Volchok's apartment. "The phone conversation you overheard - I wasn't entirely truthful with you about that. My past in the Soviet Union was catching up with me. I crossed the wrong people there and they were going to get their revenge. My life, and yours, were in danger if I had stayed and they had found me. I wasn't afraid for myself, but I wasn't about to risk your safety."

Christine reached over and gently stroked his cheek, needing to feel him, to confirm that she wasn't dreaming. "But why couldn't you confide in me? Didn't you trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone, Christine. But you were safer not knowing. And it had to appear to anyone watching that you were..." Erik hesitated, embarrassed to admit his assumption now that she was actually there with him. "...that you were actually grieving. Can you ever forgive me for using you that way?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "That's the hardest part, especially since you knew what I had been through with Raoul," Pain and guilt flashed across his face, and Christine was thankful that Micheil had explained so much to her on the way here.

"There are many things I regret in my life, but none more than hurting you, Christine."

"Would you have sent for me, Erik? Or have I made a fool of myself by pursuing you here?"

"You made a fool of yourself singing on my doorstep," he said as he kissed her again, surprising her with his humor. "But in coming here, never. I've thought of you every minute that I've been here. I wanted nothing more than to ask you to join me. But it's selfish of me and too unfair to you. I won't let you give up your career, and I'm no ..." He had started to say 'prize' but trailed off helplessly, gesturing at himself by way of explanation.

Was this the same angry and controlling man who had first refused to see her and then had driven her mercilessly? Christine saw how vulnerable and insecure he still was, but she knew that she was finally seeing behind the wall. She had no illusion that those walls had come down, only that she had somehow gained admittance, at least for the time being.

"I'm staying with you, Erik. I love you and I have for some time now. Can't I have both? You and my career? Your brother said something about escorting... OH!" Christine jumped, startled by Micheil's sudden reappearance, as if she had somehow conjured him.

Erik glared at his brother. "Dammit, Micheil. Ring the bell like a normal person. You might get shot one day doing that." Turning to Christine, he added, "You'd better get used it. My brother rarely enters or leaves a building in the conventional manner."

Micheil only laughed, completely unperturbed by Erik's threat. Christine realized how different the brothers were and wondered if it was due solely to the difference in their physical appearance and the treatment they had received because of it.

"Keeps me from getting rusty," he replied, still grinning. "Now, what were you saying, Christine?" He asked.

"Erik doesn't want me to give up my career by staying here. I remembered that you said something about escorting me back and forth. Will that work? I mean will Erik still be safe?"

He raised an eyebrow, incredulous at her doubt. "Of course, no problem. We'll switch our identities every few trips; we won't raise any red flags that way." Micheil paused and looked Christine up and down admiringly.

"Micheil - what in the hell are you doing?" Erik growled warningly.

Micheil just shook his head. "Relax little brother. I just remembered a new set of passports I've gotten in, and was thinking what a good match they would be for Christine. Swedish passports, a father and daughter, named Daae."

Micheil threw Erik the traditional Arab head covering for a male. "Here, put this on. I'm taking you two out on my boat to watch the sunset. I dare say, Erik, you haven't been out of this place since you got here. I had Teo prepare some dinner for us and I raided your wine cabinet and I have some excellent champagne on ice."

"Looks like we have an uninvited guest for dinner then," Erik said to Christine. "Is that all right with you? I promise I'll throw him overboard if he gets too annoying."

Micheil snorted, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "I'd like to see you try."

"It sounds wonderful," she replied, smiling up at him.

As they rose to follow Micheil out, Erik couldn't resist taking Christine into his arms and kissing her again, more confidently now, grateful that she had come to him. As they reluctantly broke apart, he looked into her eyes and saw her love for him there. And for the first time in his life, Erik willingly suspended his disbelief.

~ The End ~

A. N.: And so our story ends. I am more grateful than words can say that so many of you read my story, and especially to those of you who took the time to to leave me reviews. I so very much appreciate your comments and insights. If you have never left one, please take a minute now and let me know what you thought. I grew up with four brothers, so I can definitely take criticism as well as praise! I've had so much fun doing this, and now I'm off to rattle Iamphantomgirl's cage to get to work on the Western fic, tentatively titled, The Wyoming Saga. Erik sends black-ribboned roses to each of you. Much love, Donna