Finally! Finals are over, and I'm out of school for a few weeks! Yay! Of course, that also means that I should be updating with more frequency again, which I'm certainly looking forward to doing. (And just in case any of you happen to be wondering if I've forgotten my other on-going phic Mistaken Destination, no, I haven't forgotten it, even if the updated date on it seems to say otherwise. I do plan on continuing it until it's done, so have no fear.) So anyway, here's the next chapter.

Chapter 23 – Of Charm and of Strangers

The next few weeks passed slowly for Christine. Frederic spent little time with her, preferring instead to pass the time with his Moroccan friends. She would often find them shut away in one of the rooms discussing something fervently in the Arabic language. He always spent a little time with her each evening, however, and Christine began to feel strange whenever they were together. It reminded her vaguely of the way she had felt toward Raoul, or even toward Erik, and she wasn't sure she liked feeling it now with Frederic. Still, everything he did and said to her was overflowing with a perfect charm, and despite her misgivings, she found it increasingly difficult to feel indifferent toward him whenever he was around.

At first, she had tried asking if she might be able to return to Paris. Frederic had promised to take her once he had time, but it didn't take Christine long to start thinking that he would never have enough time for such a trip. She had asked if perhaps someone else could take her instead, but Frederic had only laughed and told her they couldn't be inconvenienced by something like that.

So Christine had done what little she could do to occupy herself while still managing to avoid him during the day. She was never permitted to leave the house because it would be too dangerous for her, so she contented herself by exploring the inside of the house instead. She was amazed at all of the wonderful things the house contained. Each room seemed to hold a new set of exotic treasures. Even the simplest sitting room was lovely to her, as the Moroccan style charmed her. She had been especially thrilled to discover the room with the piano and the bookcase of music. It was near her own room, and the singing acoustics were remarkably suited to her voice. She had immediately resumed her practicing in that room, and was pleased at how quickly her voice improved toward where it had once been.

Isra had discovered her during one of her first practice sessions. She had quietly entered the room, and Christine hadn't even noticed she was there until Isra finally shut the door behind her.

Christine jumped and turned to see who had just entered. Seeing Isra there, she smiled in greeting.

"I- I sorry to stop you," Isra said in her halting French.

Christine smiled and shook her head. "No, it's quite all right," she said. "I have more than enough time to sing. Did you want me?"

Isra blushed and lowered her eyes. "No, I… I hear you and… and I come…" She looked back up at Christine and gave her a slight smile. "You good."

Now it was Christine's turn to blush. "Thank you, but I'm not particularly good. I was once, but that was when…" She trailed off. She had been good when Erik was teaching her. It was sad enough to think about, but it seemed even worse to actually say. "Do you ever sing?"

Isra gave a little laugh. "Me sing? No… I- I no good." She glanced at the piano. "I play… some."

"You play piano?" Christine asked. "I always did wish I could play. I learned a little once, but that was so long ago."

Isra walked over and stroked the hard wood of the piano. She murmured some things in Arabic, then smiled at Christine. "My mother…"

Christine smiled, feeling a slight pang. Isra's mother must have given it to her. It was such a gift to have… much more than Christine's father had been able to give her.

Isra was already changing the subject. "I wish I teach," she said.

"Teach piano?" Christine asked, confused.

"No…" Isra shook her head in frustration. "We… we talk little, but… if you teach me, and I teach you… we talk much!"

Christine grinned. "Oh! You want us to teach each other our languages! Yes, I'd love that!"

Isra nodded, satisfied. "Good. We start tomorrow. Here, this time." With that, she turned and left the room.

Sure enough, the next day, Isra came into the piano room at the exact same time the next day, and immediately began exchanging words with Christine. She was back the next day, and then the next, until soon several weeks had passed. Christine was still far from fluent in Arabic, but she found the combination of such regular lessons and of hearing it everywhere she went helped her learn much more quickly than she had ever expected.

But now over a month had passed since she had arrived, and she was growing tired of being endlessly shut up inside the house. She began to spend more and more time at the various windows looking out into the streets, but their position in a fine neighborhood prevented her from seeing any sights of particular interest. She began to question Frederic again to be taken back home again, or at least to be allowed outside, but he only said he was busier than ever, and if she wanted outside so desperately that she should simply go out into the courtyard. Christine reluctantly accepted his answer, knowing she would get nothing different if she pestered him. He seemed by now to be quite determined to stay. Still, she was desperate to go somewhere.

She caught him only a few days later outside in the courtyard, alone for nearly the first time since they had first arrived in Morocco. She walked over to him and waited for him to notice her. Finally, he looked up at her and smiled. "Good afternoon, Christine," he said with a smile. Christine noticed that it made him look more charming than she had ever seen him before, and couldn't resist smiling in return, despite the uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach. Frederic's smile widened. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Are you sure you can't take me back to Paris?" she asked.

Frederic laughed with that impossibly charming laugh of his that always made Christine's heart beat a little faster. "Christine, I already told you, it's quite impossible just yet. We're in the middle of very important business matters, and for me to leave right now would destroy everything! I promise to take you the instant I can be spared."

Christine smiled faintly, wondering how he always managed to content her so easily with all of his promises. "You promise?"

"Yes, I promise," he said earnestly.

Christine smiled a little more brightly, then looked toward the outside gate. "I- I don't suppose I might be allowed outside sometime…"

"You honestly want out, don't you?" Frederic asked. Christine nodded and Frederic sighed. "I was afraid of this. You're not made for this sort of life, are you?" He brightened. "But I do have a bit of spare time, and I believe I could take you on a short drive… or a walk if you prefer."

Christine looked at him eagerly. "Oh, I'd love a walk! Thank you!"

"I shall let them know I will be out for a while, then we can go." He smiled at Christine's dress. "In the meantime, I think you might be needing something a bit different to wear."

Christine looked down at her dress and nodded. She was no fashion expert by any means, but she still suspected that her current dress would look rather conspicuous on the Moroccan streets. "I- I do have a dress Isra gave me," she suggested.

"Yes, I'm sure that would do beautifully," Frederic agreed. "Now, please excuse me. I must hurry if I am to be back in time to allow for a decent walk."

He left the courtyard and Christine ran inside and up to her room. As she put on the Moroccan dress Isra had given her, Christine thought over her meeting with Frederic. What in the world was wrong with her? She knew what he had been like when she had first met him. He had done nothing but violently pursue her, trying everything to claim her for himself. But that was no different from the way Erik had once been, was it? Yes, it was rather similar. Erik had changed, and now Frederic himself had changed. Oh, how much Frederic had changed! He acted like a perfect angel with her now, and yet managed to completely weaken her whenever she was around. She smiled, remembering that it had been much the same way with Raoul. Raoul had had that perfect smile which was nearly as charming as Frederic's own, and had never failed to melt her within moments. She had always loved the feeling of lightheaded ecstasy Raoul had made her feel, and she had always imagined it to be the surest sign of true love. Oh, she had found out soon enough that there was so much more to love than that, but surely that was one of its signs?

And now Frederic was making her feel that exact same way! She pulled her dress on the rest of the way and put on its matching shawl. Only a month earlier she had decided that she could never love anyone more than she loved Erik, but now she wasn't so sure. Her mind was such a tangle of emotions, and she was afraid she might never be able to sort them out again.

At last, finally having finished changing, she left her room again to go down into the courtyard. She found Frederic sitting on one of the benches waiting for her. As she entered, he rose and bowed to her with an awed expression. "Christine," he breathed, "you look perfect!"

Christine blushed and smiled, and awkwardly set to fingering the hem of her silk dress. "Are we going, then?" she finally asked.

"Oh yes, of course!" Frederic replied. He hurried forward and offered Christine his arm. She hesitantly took it and he smiled. "Let's go, then," he said quietly, and together they walked out through the gate.

They walked past several streets before Frederic stopped and turned to Christine. "I'm sure you know very little of this city," he said, "but is there any place you know of you wish to see?"

Christine looked up at him eagerly. "Where is the new house being built? Perhaps if its close enough, we can go look at it?"

"It's a good ways from here," Frederic replied. "I don't believe you would find it too far, but it's still a good distance."

"Let's go see it, then!" Christine looked expectantly down the street, then back at Frederic. "I- I suppose you have an architect again?"

"Yes, I believe so," Frederic said with a broad smile. Christine bit back the sudden butterflies she felt. "I personally haven't met him yet, but Fahd assures me that he is an architect who is more than worthy."

Christine wished she could know who this new architect was. Surely it could not be Erik… or was it the same architect as before? She felt a thrill run through her, and she squeezed Frederic's arm. "Which way do we go?" she asked.

"The house is straight ahead, and slightly to the right, I believe," Frederic replied. His smile softened as he let his eyes meet hers for a moment, then he turned his gaze back onto the road ahead of them. "Well, I suppose we should be moving on if we wish to return by nightfall," he said lightly.

Christine followed beside him as he led her down the street. It gradually changed as it left the neighborhood, passed through various marketing streets, and finally found itself in a part of town which was even lovelier than the part they had just left. Christine was strangely attracted to its charm, and watched the elaborately designed buildings as they slowly passed each one.

They eventually turned to the right, and were soon in a rather undeveloped area. There were a few scattered homes, but the street here seemed to be lined primarily with unfinished structures or empty plots of land. The street was completely empty but for them, and for a lone figure Christine could see in one of the vacant lots. Frederic stopped directly across this last lot and beckoned to it. "This will someday be Fahd's new home," he said with a bit of pride.

Christine smiled at the idea that he should be so proud of someone else's home, but it was no longer the future building that she was interested in. She watched intently as the lone figure stood in the lot. Occasionally he would take a few steps and stop again, a dark cloak swirling around his legs. It was almost as if he were studying the land, or perhaps looking for something. Christine looked quizzically up at Frederic. "Who is he?" she asked.

"Him? I'm not sure. No one is working today…" He frowned. "Sometimes scavengers come to these construction sites, looking for something they might find useful. I doubt this one will find much, though."

Christine watched for a while, then turned back to Frederic. "Aren't you going to do something?" she asked.

Frederic shook his head with a slight smile. "No, it's too early in the process for him to do any harm. I'll be sure to let Fahd know, however. He might want to position a few guards out here in the future, just in case."

Christine turned back to watch the stranger, and bit her lip lightly. She wasn't sure why, but something about this stranger was beginning to seem vaguely familiar to her.

"Come, we should be going," Frederic said. He offered her his arm again and began to lead her back up the street.

Christine took his arm and followed, but found herself looking behind them at the strange figure. He took a few more steps as usual, but this time when he stopped, he turned and looked directly at her, his face shadowed by his deep hood.

She quickly turned forward again and hurried faster to stay up with Frederic. The way the cloaked figure had turned to look directly at her had been strangely disconcerting, almost as if he knew she had been watching the entire time… almost as if it really was her that he had meant to look at. She couldn't shake the feeling that he even knew her, though she knew that such a thing was impossible. Who in Morocco could possibly know her, outside of Frederic himself and Fahd's small family? Or was that man really a simple scavenger like Frederic had said? Of course she didn't know, but she was determined to find out.