A/N And so little house on the prairie! Nah not quite. Erik has a ways to go with his "issues" before he gets anything close to equilibrium but he is getting there. Sorry, i'm evil. Anyway, hope you enjoy meeting their new friends...lots more of them to come. Thanks as always for the reviews...especially my Evil Twin Ace - the peaches are for you!

Chapter 10

The little house above the pasticceria was perfect, Meg thought. Small but perfect. They had two whole floors above the shop which was a vast improvement on their tiny quarters on the train and in the hotel. The front door to side of the shop front led up a narrow stairs to the relatively large sitting and kitchen area. This opened out at the rear through glass double doors onto a tiny balcony – just large enough for a small table and chairs – which led back down a stone staircase to the enclosed courtyard, which they shared with the Pellizzaris. The Italian family's own house backed on to the courtyard with their trade entrance at the canal along Fondementa Gherardini. The rooms above the shop had been inhabited by an elderly relative of the family until her death the previous year and fortunately much of her furniture still remained.

Upstairs Meg had a beautiful iron bed in her room and had been thrilled to find it also came with its own copper bath which had actually been plumbed to fill from a rainwater tank on the roof. Erik did not have the luxury of one of his own but of course he would not hear of her taking the room without. They could share use of it. There was a separate toilet on the same floor as the bedrooms and that completed their home.

They had met with both Signor and Signora Pellizzari the day they had spotted the advertisement in the window. Marcellino or Marcello as everyone seemed to call him was a master baker and pastry maker. He had taken over the little business from his father and had been up to his elbows in dough since he could walk. He was a large jolly sort with a beard and rather expansive waist that his apron barely accommodated. Rosa, his wife was small and capable. She had a warm smile and eyes in the back of her head especially when it came to Marcello sampling the merchandise. Meg had explained their circumstances according to the story she and Erik had fabricated in Paris but something in the look that passed between husband and wife told her that they did not entirely believe her. All the same they had agreed to lease them the rooms above welcoming them with armfuls of flowers in every room and huge baskets full of pastries, bread and fruit. Meg was beginning to think it would be detrimental to her waistline to be living above such a temptation.

The Pellizzaris had three children, two daughters and a son. The son they had seen in the shop the day they had picked up the keys. Federico was twenty four and worked for the family business making deliveries and deals in the family's gondola. He was good natured like his father and always had a ready smile for the new tenants. They had not yet met the daughters. Elena, the elder one had just turned twenty and was due to be married shortly; consequently she was always out with her beau. The youngest Pellizzari, Isabella was only six and she was in school during the day so Meg had not yet seen her. Rosa had told her that they had been all done with their family and then little Bella had come along; much to everyone's delight it appeared. The little girl was plainly keeping her parents young and was obviously doted on by her older siblings from what she had been told.

A few days had passed since they had moved in and she and Erik had fallen into a sort of routine, with her going down to collect pastries for breakfast and then going out somewhere exploring together until lunchtime. Meg had noticed Erik pulling on his cape every morning before leaving along with the associated aura of indifference that seemed to help him deal with being outside. Venice was a very busy city especially in the more touristy areas around San Marco and she had wondered how he would handle such vast numbers of people, never mind the incredibly narrow streets. He seemed a little less tense every single journey and Meg knew that when they were somewhere especially busy he would find some completely random piece of historical fact to regale her with. It was like a mental diversion for him and she found it fascinating; all the little ways he employed to adapt to his new environment. She could not imagine how strange it must be for him to suddenly be out in daylight, having lived his entire life deprived of it. She knew it was extremely unfashionable to be seen with anything other than a pale complexion but she was not of the elite and she loved nothing more than turning her face to the sun letting its warmth bathe her.

Erik still wore the binding around his face, keeping up the pretence of their circumstances. She changed it for him every day and if she did not know better she would think he actually enjoyed the few minutes she spent before breakfast tending to him. He had begun to take the wrappings off at night and then appear at first with his hand over his face and then gradually just turned slightly away from her next morning. Erik never spoke to her when she was working but once or twice she had felt his head fall back against her, his eyes closed; an involuntary movement she could understand. She supposed it was something like when her mother used to brush her hair when she was younger; she would let her mind empty and just give herself up to the sensation of the brush against her scalp and the feel of her mother's hands about her face and neck. Strange; she knew Erik was particularly sensitive about his face and to her knowledge had never let anyone near it before yet now it seemed he was becoming accustomed to her touch.

Erik could not believe how his pathetic excuse for a life was beginning to change. He had woken up this morning with the sun on his face; he refused to close the heavy wooden shutters having become addicted to the feeling. He had gone downstairs as usual to see Meg fussing around the kitchen, spooning coffee into the little pot that sat on the range for that thick brew the Italians were so fond of. He would normally walk straight to the chair by the balcony doors keeping his face turned away so she would not see the ruined side but this morning something shifted in him. He did not know why only that for the past few days he had been unconsciously letting go of a tiny part of the fear surrounding his appearance with Meg. It had started with him taking off the bindings before he went to sleep the first night they moved in removing them before he realised he would then have to face her without them next day. Before breakfast that morning he had walked in with his hand over his face and sat in the chair. Meg immediately stopped what she had been doing and proceeded to dress his face as usual. She had been doing this for days now and he had eventually dropped his hand and was turning away instead. She had acted no differently each time and it appeared to him that it really did not seem to bother her.

This morning as he spied Meg with the coffee he stopped and waited for her to turn around. Instead of turning his face away he stood and faced her; determination to conquer this phobia warring with the trepidation of what her reaction might be.

"Good Morning Erik, it is going to be a warm one I think! Did you sleep?" Meg could not believe what she was seeing and was determined not to let it show lest she scare him back into his shell. He was actually standing directly in front of her, not turned to one side, hands by his side; his handsome face gloriously naked! She could see the subtle signs that betrayed the presence of Erik's alter ego helping him stand his ground; feet planted apart in a battle stance, shoulders back, chest out. He really was quite something when he did this and she wondered if he had any idea that she could see it. It was almost like a treat to get a little bit of the Phantom with her breakfast! She was thrilled. Venice was beginning to work its magic on her friend.

She was smiling at him! A huge dazzling smile that reached her eyes and crinkled the corners; she was literally pouring sunshine in his direction. He was inclined not to believe his eyes except that it was Meg and he should have known that she would not let him down. She had asked him a question and he had completely forgotten now what it was...

"No... I mean yes...umm...Morning." He could have kicked himself. Now he was totally incapable of stringing a coherent sentence together but damn her she had addled his brain with that smile.

"You are looking particularly well this morning, if I may say so. Would you like some coffee now or if you can wait a few minutes I will go down for some croissants and then join you?" Poor Erik! He could not even speak, focusing all his energy into not bolting for the door! She was hoping he would respond in the way of most people to flattery; accept the compliment and try to do whatever it was that caused it again.

"I can wait." Congratulations, you managed a whole three words without tripping. He was going to have to get a grip on things; the wordsmith inside him was having a fit.

She had said he looked well? He never looked well. It was not something he could ever even aspire to look. How did one look well with only half a face? Meg baffled him and he had almost given up trying to figure her out. She did not act the way he expected her to and she certainly never said what he predicted she might. Was everyone like her and had Christine been the exception? Experience was inclining him to think otherwise.

She had disappeared now, down the back steps to sneak into Marcello in the kitchens downstairs. It really was a glorious day, warm for late March he supposed, not that he had been outside in any season in broad daylight for longer than he could remember. But it was definitely warmer than yesterday and the little balcony would be flooded in light all morning and well into the afternoon. Perhaps he would take out his violin and play her here later, just inside the doors. So far he had only tuned his precious violin, something holding him back from taking the bow in his hand. He did not want to tarnish his beautiful new city with sad or angry music; there had been enough of that in Paris. He supposed he was holding back until he could release whatever was inside him gently, without hurting her. He would never take his anger out on her, the organ would have been able to take it but she could not. He would have to think of something hopeful to play.

Meg skipped down the last step and swung in through the open door at the back of the pasticceria just in time to wave back to Federico who was on his way out with a huge stack of delight filled trays. He gave her a beaming smile and a cheeky wink before disappearing through the trade entrance at the far side of the courtyard. "Buongiorno Marcello...your son seems in wonderful form today!" Meg dropped her basket on the bench beside where the older man was folding pieces of sweet dough into intricate little shapes.

"Ah this is because he has just seen a beautiful girl. He was out very early this morning and brought you back a little something from the markets," Marcello waggled his eyebrows at her and pointed to a small brown paper sack behind him on a shelf. She went to take it down and peered inside to see half a dozen peaches, all creamy pink and fat with ripeness. Her mouth was watering as their syrupy smell wafted up her nose. How sweet of him!

"Ooh I adore peaches! Please tell him thank you." Meg could not wait to sink her teeth into one and maybe Erik liked them too.

"I think he would prefer if you told him...he brought them especially for the bella signorina. We were all warned not to eat them!" Marcello winked suggestively, placing two handfuls of pastries into her basket. She could just see Rosa leaning back from the counter in the front smiling pointedly at the bag in her hand, nodding enthusiastically. Meg waved good morning and blushed to her roots. Really he was a nice boy and she did not mind one bit getting fresh peaches for breakfast but she suspected her landlords knew something she did not.

Erik was lurking in the doorway off the balcony when she came up the steps with a dour look on his face. He was doing that thing he did with his shoulders again making her feel claustrophobic while still outside. What was wrong with him? She looked him straight in the eye from her lower position on the steps trying to find some inner, more assertive Meg that could match him. She tried to stand up straight and put her shoulders back but with a basket over one arm and a sack of peaches in the other she was failing miserably. Oh for goodness sake! She threw her eyes up and marched up the final three steps, ignoring the hair standing on the back of her neck as she slid past him into the kitchen to drop her basket on the worktop. What had gotten into him this morning? Maddening creature! And she had been delighting in this apparition earlier? He was a complete contradiction today and Meg could feel the beginnings of a headache just trying to anticipate his humour. Well she would not rise to it. If he wanted to play silly games with her head this morning he was wasting his time because she refused to allow it. Pouring coffee from the pot on the stove and taking a sharp knife she walked straight passed him to sit at the small table out on the balcony and took a peach from the bag.

"Where did you get those?" Erik had seen the young virile Italian waving at Meg as he left and he had actually turned and waved up at him too, giving him a big cheery smile. Just as well he had been standing with his right side facing into the kitchen. He had also partially heard the exchange with Marcello. He could hear her breathing through both bedroom walls while she slept so eavesdropping on what was happening below him was almost laughable in the lack of effort it took. Federico had brought her something, he had heard that much. He had also deduced that it had been Meg that had put the big insolent grin on the Italian's face. Not that it was of any consequence. Why should he not smile at Meg? The young boy was friendly and easy with his smiles to anyone who encountered him.

"Peaches. Federico brought them from the market this morning," she responded casually, slicing into the velvety skin of the one in her hand with glee and then feeling slightly remorseful handed one half to him in a truce. Except that he did not move. Erik stayed there hovering by the door alternately staring at the peach and then at the ground. What is it you exasperating man? Oh damn and blast! She had completely forgotten his bandages. Of course he would not come outside. After all his efforts this morning and now she had gone and undone it all by being an insensitive ninny. She winced at her oversight and the pain she knew she must have caused him. She stood up, her head heavy with shame and made her way back inside to get fresh bandages from her bag. Erik was still rooted to the same spot when she returned. Oh Meg, what have you done? She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, "Sit."

Erik did as he was bid, careful not make eye contact as he turned. He could not bear to look at her like this; he was pitiful, not even able to do something simple like sit in the sun with her and share her breakfast. Meg was as she always was; quiet, gentle and neat. She never changed the way she did this for him, always careful around his eye and mindful of the dark wig he wore underneath. He tried to relax and enjoy the small moments of peace this always gave him, closing his eyes and knowing in his heart he did not deserve any of it.

Meg stared at the back of his head, biting her lip against the tears that were threatening to fall at any moment. She could not believe she had forgotten this. It was so important, vital. It should be second nature to her now but Erik had thrown her this morning with his revelation before breakfast and then her mind got distracted with his stubborn theatrics on the balcony. She must not forget why she was here. Erik would never be able to cope if she made mistakes like this. Goodness knows when he would be able to stand in front of her again like he had this morning. He was so fragile really despite appearances and his constant effort to appear otherwise and she had probably done irreparable damage by her thoughtlessness. Stupid, stupid girl! Finishing at the base of his skull she tucked her finger underneath at the nape of his neck to push the pin through and felt him flinch. Oh God, she did not stick the pin in him?

"I am so sorry, did I hurt you?" Was there no end to her ineptitude?

"No, it was... it just...umm...tickled." Not this again. He really had to sort out his inability to construct complete sentences. He was acting like a blessed female with a fit of the vapours. He had felt that right at the base of his spine, whatever she had just done and it had actually tingled but he was damned if he would admit that to her.

"Oh...sorry, I always hated being tickled; it feels creepy. There you are finished." She placed both hands on his solid shoulders as she always did and gave them a squeeze...well as much as she could with her tiny hands.

"And Erik, I am really sorry I forgot about your bandages, it completely slipped my mind. It will not happen again, I promise." Please do not let him get worse because of my total and utter incompetence.

"It is alright Meg, please just go and enjoy your breakfast. I will come out in a moment." When he had a chance to process what she just said. She had forgotten...it had completely slipped her mind! Did she have any idea what she had just said? Or what it meant. She had forgotten about his face, did not remember she needed to cover it because it had slipped her mind! Would Christine have ever forgotten his face; ever learned to live with it? Or would it have always been something she would have pretended very hard to ignore? He hated that he knew the answers. He hated that he had become so completely obsessed by one who he thought could deliver him from his prison, from his loneliness. She was everything, his every waking thought and the purpose behind everything he had done. Yet when it came time for her to decide she chose another. She chose the light. She chose to betray him, hurt him and deny him. He had not felt like that since he was a child, being kicked like a dog for not performing. It made him sick to the pit of his stomach how someone he had given everything to could throw it all back in his face, could not see, could not feel, and was blind to him. He thought she had heard the melody, understood his words, felt his music wrap around her like he had intended but it was a mirage, no more real than the Opera Ghost. She took all he taught her and used it to trap him; the poisonous viper that had crushed his stupid wasted heart. He would never be so careless again.