When she started avoiding him, Erik was worried he had seriously injured Gaia. He felt horrible for ever having touched her, especially when he hadn't been of sound mind. When one morning Gaia woke to find the glass music box she had made for him outside her door, she finally broke the wall she had put up between them and ventured down in the basement warily. She knocked at the door, and frowned when there was no answer.
"Erik? It's me. Please open up," after a moment she could hear movement from inside the room and finally the door opened just a crack but didn't say anything. It was always hard to tell where his deep-set eyes were looking but Gaia could tell they were glued to the floor. "What was this doing outside my room? I could have stepped on it."
"I thought you might want it back."
"Why would I want it back? I made it for you. Here, take it," Gaia, slipped it through the door to the boy, who accepted it warily.
"You're upset with me."
Gaia folded her arms some and nodded. "Yes, I am. But that doesn't mean I want the music box back. It was a gift, it's yours to keep."
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Erik told her quietly, and Gaia frowned.
"I know you didn't, Erik. But you did. You broke Marco's arm and if you had wanted to you could have broken mine too. All I tried to do was take off your mask so you would be comfortable…"
"That's exactly it, Gaia. Nobody touches my face."
"But Erik-"
"But nothing, Gaia. It's just… you wouldn't understand."
The girl frowned some. "Maybe if you would tell me I could try."
Erik shook his head, but opened the door all the way to let her inside. "You could never understand. You are as beautiful as I am ugly," Gaia's frown deepened at that.
"Then why is it I get the feeling this is about more than just how you look?" She asked quietly. "I've been watching you for a long time, Erik. You're incredibly talented, and passionate. Everything you touch turns to gold if you want it to, but… I saw that night you can cause as much destruction as you can beauty. That power doesn't come from vanity."
Erik looked down at the ground as he moved to sit in the chair by his working desk, considering what she said but not speaking. It was Gaia who broke the silence. "Why did you leave France? And how did you come to Rome?"
"…I left France for the sake of my mother. She was in love with a doctor, who hated me. A group of boys started tormenting us. When they attacked me and killed our dog, I overheard the doctor telling her I needed to be locked away, for my good and for hers. I knew in spite of the fact he was more concerned for her good than he was for me, he was right. She would never be safe while I stayed, so I ran. I didn't get far before I was picked up by Gypsies," he explained, quietly. Gaia sat, listening intently.
"Picked up?"
"Kidnapped is more like it, I suppose. If someone with no place to go can be kidnapped."
The girl frowned deeply. "That's why you never made a cent. They forced you to perform."
Erik nodded, quietly. "I eventually won a little freedom, because I made the proprietor so much money. At least I thought that was why at the time, I'm not so sure anymore. He had… something of a fetish for the freaks in his show," Gaia's eyes widened immensely and she covered her mouth with her hand.
"I can't even… Oh God, Erik, I'm so sorry."
The boy shook his head. "God had nothing to do with it. There was no God in that place." He said simply. "At any rate, his perversion allowed me the opportunity to leave. He… attacked me, one night. Or tried to anyway; I ran him through before he could touch me, with his own blade," Erik removed the blade he kept in his boot and handed it to her. Upon inspecting it, Gaia could tell it was Romanian in origin from its homely but practical leather strap around the handle. It was certainly the sort of knife a Gypsy would own. Her heart sank when she looked closer and saw flecks of brown at the hilt of the blade that she realized must have been dried blood.
"Erik how many times have you used this blade?"
"Only on Javert," Erik promised quickly, taking the knife back and tucking it into his boot. "That was just west of Venice. I moved due south from there, where your Father found me."
"No wonder you ran from him," Gaia told him with a frown. "I'm surprised you stayed with us at all."
"After eight years of hell, his kindness was… refreshing. Strange, but not unwelcome," Gaia nodded her understanding and bit her lip some.
"Thank you for telling me this, Erik. It couldn't have been easy. That couldn't have been more than two years ago…" Erik nodded without saying anything, and Gaia continued. "I don't how that relates to what happened when I tried to take your mask, though," she frowned.
Erik frowned as well. "You saw my face, didn't you?" Gaia nodded. "How would you describe it?"
After a long moment of consideration, Gaia finally spoke. "After my mother died, it rained for days. Papà decided to exhume the body to rebury it in a mausoleum... the men dropped the casket, and it opened. Your face looked likes hers did, after weeks of death had sunk in."
"That seems to be the common thought," Erik explained. "That my face is the face of death. For years I was forced to remove my mask and was marketed as death itself. The gypsies did everything they could to keep my face exposed for a paying audience. I can't… handle people looking at me, not like that. Not anymore."
"I've already seen your face, Erik, and I never intended to get some sort of… sick thrill out of it," Gaia frowned. "I will admit… I was terrified when I first saw it. But it can't scare me any more than it already has, and I know that it doesn't define you. Do you think Papà would have taken you in like a son if it did? We both know that isn't who you are… but Erik, do you?"
Erik frowned thoughtfully, considering Gaia's words carefully. As he did, Gaia stood and moved to place a kiss his masked cheek. "You don't have anything more to fear from us than we do from you. And the sooner you realize that the better off we'll all be. Life is too short for misery."
"The pot calls the kettle black," The masked boy accused, quiet. "You may have your father fooled, Gaia… but not me. Nobody saves a fortune to move far far away if they are happy where they are, or as who they are. You might love your father, but I see your resentment for him, and for your sisters who pinned him on you."
Gaia could only stare, dumbstruck as Erik stood. "You don't have to stay anymore, Gaia. I release you from your duties. I can care for your father from now on."
This news caused Gaia to gape. "What are you talking about?"
"Your father has taken me on as a son, you said so yourself. I am older than you, surely. That puts his well being in my hands. You're free to go," the authority in Erik's voice startled the girl, who couldn't find words to speak. He was right. He was likely older than she was, even if barely. That combined with him being the only male and unwed put the responsibility of Giovanni on his shoulders. But Gaia knew things were not so simple.
"I can't leave him, Erik."
"Why not? Would you like me to throw you out to ease your guilt?"
"It isn't that, Erik… He needs me, as much as he needed a son. You couldn't cook for him, or clean the house, things he can't do for himself anymore since Mama died. You're too busy at the site to even learn. And even if you could, it just… wouldn't be the same. You never knew my mother. He's never even spoken to you about her, has he?"
"No, he hasn't," Erik admitted, and Gaia nodded.
"It isn't something he can share easily. He only talks about her with me, and only when I ask. I barely remember her… I may hate it here, Erik, but it isn't because of my father and I'm not ready to leave him alone. It isn't his fault I was never meant for the city."
"What is not to like, then? Rome is stunning. A work of art."
"To an architect. To me… to me it's little more than rock. The people are maddeningly shallow and dull everywhere I turn, and the memory of my mother haunts this house. Everywhere I turn I see her, and how wonderful she was… and I hate being constantly faced with the reality that I will never, ever be like her. She was the perfect wife and mother until she got sick and I just… I don't know. I'll be eighteen years old in the spring, plenty old enough to marry but with no prospects. Everywhere I turn I feel like I'm letting my mother down," Gaia frowned deeply, sitting back down on the bed. "I can't help but feel that if I leave the city, there won't be anyone left to know what a failure I am."
"You have plenty of prospects. Marco would have you as his bride in a heartbeat."
Gaia laughed some, glibly. "He would have me but I would sooner die than have him. He is more of a pig than most, you saw that for yourself."
Erik considered his words for a long while before staying. "Marry me then. I would give you all the freedom you require and more, and you wouldn't have to feel like you let your mother down." This thought caused Gaia to smile sweetly as she considered the idea. After a long moment, she moved to kiss Erik's cheek and hugged him tightly.
"You aren't ready for a wife any more than I am ready for a husband," she told him quietly. "But I will certainly keep the prospect in mind, and it does set my mind at ease. You are a wonderful friend, Erik, and I thank you."
The masked boy nodded and smiled quietly. The proposal had been very spur of the moment, but for some reason the idea she would consider it made immensely happy. He had always thought Gaia was surely the most beautiful woman in Italy, but he had never before thought about her romantically, not seriously anyway. In his dreams he had considered what it might be like to hold her and kiss her, but never as more than a flight of fancy. She was surely the most remarkable woman in the world if she could turn down the hand of a handsome man like Marco but consider the proposal of a monster like him.
Her voice broke him from his train of thought. "Come upstairs and have some tea. It's going to rain today, you'll need all the warmth you can get."
