Author's Note: Still pretty out of it guys, but I'm feeling a little better. Still no idea what caused it, but it seems to have been just a bad allergic reaction. Could be worse, could be bed bugs (or Lupus! A couple of terrifying hours went by when I thought I was actually really, legitimately sick. Not fun). Good news is I'm getting better, bad news is I'm getting better on account of the massive dose of antihistamines I'm on, which make me feel crazy weird. But I really want to write right now, so here goes nothing. Also, I posted the first two chapters of the Russian Ballerina story I mentioned a few chapters ago under the title 'Letting Go'. They were also written under the influence of Benadryl, and currently involve a much darker Erik than I've dealt with in the past, which is admittedly a little fun. I reserve the right to change them (and this chapter too) upon recovery.

Adrian's fourth year of life was stressful for everyone involved. In early February, the young boy developed a horrible, deep cough both Erik and Gaia immediately recognized. By the end of the month the boy was coughing blood, and by the end of March he had not only grown an inch taller but had lost two pounds, and was beginning to look as skeletal as Erik had when he first arrived in Persia. The stress of knowing she had given her son her disease caused Gaia to fall ill also. By the end of March she could hardly get out of bed without coughing blood into her handkerchief.

It was a vicious cycle Erik was desperate to break before he lost both of his wife and son; the sicker one got, the sicker the other got in turn from worry. "Gaia, I think you should go to Rome for a few days," Erik ventured one day in April as she stood in the kitchen, stirring pot of chicken bones and vegetables to make her son a broth. "it would be good for you to take a break, let me take care of Adrian for a couple of days while you focus on getting well-"

Erik had not quite finished his thought before Gaia glared back at him with dark eyes. "I am not leaving this house while my son is sick, Erik. I won't do it."

"Gaia I can take care of him just fine. I've been taking care of you for years."

"He is my son, Erik, and I will not leave him while he needs his mother the most. Pass me the garlic and an onion."

Doing as he was told, Erik frowned. "He needs you for his entire life, My Love. I need you for my entire life. This is the worst you've been in years, if this keeps up… If this keeps up I'm afraid I'm going to lose you."

"You're always afraid you're going to lose me, Erik, and I've always told you I'm not going anywhere. I'll die when I'm good and ready, which isn't now," she told him stubbornly, stopping to cough into her shoulder well away from the soup. "Adrian is going to get better, I'm going to get better, we'll open up the inn again and things will go back to normal. It's all going to pass, it always does."

"It didn't pass for your father, Gaia," Erik reminded his wife. "And one day it won't pass for you either. Let me take that," he insisted, taking a bowl out of Gaia's hands and ladling the broth in it with a couple of pieces of soft vegetables for his son, about the only food he could swallow with a hoarse throat from coughing.

Gaia sighed and leaned against the counter. "I feel awful, Erik. I do. My whole body aches, I'm never hungry… but it's from guilt as much as it is from any bodily illness. This is all my fault! I gave it to him, and if he dies… If he dies I know my guilt will swallow me whole, I could never possibly live-" A quiet sob cut off her words as Erik put aside the bowl and moved to hold her tightly.

"It's not your fault, Gaia," Erik promised, though he had to admit that the deepest, darkest portions of his mind had once or twice blamed her for getting Adrian sick; it certainly had not come from him, or from the world outside. They were nearly completely isolated on their little house in the vineyard; Adrian was not even allowed into the inn while there were guests present. There was simply nowhere he could have contracted consumption except from his mother. "You got it from your mother, who got it from her mother in turn. It simply runs in the family."

Gaia hummed, not believing him in the least but appreciating his weak attempt at comfort nevertheless. "Go bring him the soup, I'll take out the dog," she offered. Erik seemed hesitating until Gaia explained. "I could use the fresh air, now couldn't I? And Adrian would do better seeing you than he would seeing me looking like such a mess."

Erik relented, taking the tray of soup in to his son who was reading in bed. He put the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. "You've been in my library again. Do you need more of your own books?"

"No, Papa. I just saw this one and wanted to read it." Adrian explained, slipping a piece of parchment between the pages to mark his place. "Did you know Mozart died a pauper? I can't even imagine…"

Erik nodded. "Considering that is my book, I would say I did," he commented, amused.

"Mama's a lot like his wife, isn't she?"

"If by that you mean remarkably patient with her husband's eccentricities, than yes, I would say so. You know without his wife, we probably would never have known about Mozart today. He wasn't appreciated hundred years ago quite like he's becoming today. We might not have known about many of his great masterpieces without her dedication to him after his death."

Adrian thought about this for a long moment. "Do you think Mama will be that dedicated to you when you die?"

Erik was quiet for a moment, diverting his eyes to the floor. Having such a curious son, he was so often torn between being honest and telling a protective lie. "I don't think I will ever have to worry about that, Adrian," he finally said.

"Why not?"

"Well for one thing my work doesn't need to be played to survive. Buildings can last for hundreds of years, maybe even more."

"Not that kind of dedicated, Papa. The book said Signora Mozart never slept with the man she married."

"Did it now?" Erik demanded, taking the book; if he had known it mentioned anything about sex whatsoever he would have kept it on a higher shelf, especially after the incident a year ago when Erik was forced to explain to the boy what sex was after being caught in bed with his wife.

"You know it did, it's your book," Adrian pointed out, and Erik gave him a look that caused the boy to smirk innocently. He got that attitude from his mother, Erik noted sorely.

"I still don't think it will be a cause for concern, mon fils," Erik told the boy quietly. "I will probably outlive your mother, though if God is merciful not by long."

Adrian's little brow furrowed. "What do you mean? You said men die before women do."

"That is often because women are far more sensible than men are. They are far less likely to be trampled by a horse or crushed under stone, or duel to the death. But yes, I have observed far more lonely old women than lonely old men," Erik admitted.

"Mama's told me your job is dangerous, being a stone mason and an architect. What if you get crushed, then what would Mama and I do?"

"That's less of a risk these days than it was before you were born, you needn't worry about that," Erik promised. Lately I've been drawing plans and not doing much of the actual building, which is the dangerous work."

"You're still not worried Mama might replace you if you die?" This caused Erik to frown deeply. There really was no avoiding it anymore.

"It's not a worry I've had for a long time, mon fils. I am almost certainly going to outlive your mother. Her illness… it rarely allows people to live into old age, certainly not to an age where I might die naturally before her."

This news caused Adrian to become very quiet. Erik frowned, wishing sometimes the boy weren't so dreadfully curious. The four year old coughed deeply, sounding younger when he coughed than when he spoke Erik realized. It was so easy to forget how young the boy was at times… Gaia came into the room with the dog, cheeks and nose rosey from the morning sun and fresh air. The collie-type dog jumped onto the bed at her boy's feet, nearly knocking over the soup which was still untouched.

"Adrian, you haven't eaten the soup I made for you," Gaia frowned, moving to feel her son's forehead for a fever.

"I'm not hungry, Mama."

"Won't you please eat just a little?" She asked, nearly begging. "You didn't have any breakfast either."

"…Mama, Papa says you're dying."

Gaia immediately gave her husband a hard look. "Why would he say such an awful thing?" Fluidly she moved to pick up the white cat who was demanding her attention.

Erik gaped. "I didn't – I didn't say it like –" Oh, there was no sense in arguing. Erik stood and moved out of the room to pour himself a large glass of wine, frustrated. Gaia sat at the foot of the boy's bed, allowing the lazy cat to curl up peacefully in her lap.

"Adrian my darling, everybody dies. It's part of nature. It's nothing to be sad about, I'm not going to die for a long, long time."

"Papa doesn't think so. He thinks you're going to die before him."

Gaia frowned. "Well. To be honest I rather hope that's the case. As much as he frustrates me sometimes I do love your father dearly, and I don't know what I would do without him. But Adrian, even if I do die before your father, it won't be for a very long time, not until you're grown yourself," she promised with a gentle smile.

"Do you think he'll marry someone else when you die?"

"Goodness Adrian, what have you and your father been talking about while I was out?"

"Mozart, and Mozart's wife. She remarried but never consummated the marriage," Adrian said simply, and Gaia sighed. Sometimes she worried her son was an adult in a young boy's body, he was so terribly old for his age.

"I… don't know that your father would have the opportunity to remarry. He's a strange man, you see. I flatter myself to think I'm the only woman he would ever love, but… I don't know that anyone would love him even half as much as I do. But if he did meet someone he could marry, I would want him to. I can't say I wouldn't mind him not consummating the marriage, but I certainly don't want him to be alone for the rest of his life."

Adrian was quite another moment. "It's because of his face, isn't it? Why your don't think Papa will remarry."

Gaia gaped a moment before closing her mouth and biting the inside of her cheeks until they bled. "I… yes, among other things. But Adrian, you mustn't think about that. You're far too young to be worried about marriages and death. Come on now, eat your soup before Sophie does." Gaia smiled, stroking the dog pleasantly.

"Only if you have a bowl with me," the boy demanded, and Gaia frowned.

"Oh, all right. If you insist," she relented, moving out of the bedroom and returning moments later with her own bowl of soup. They sat together on the bed, drinking soup and chatting about more pleasant things much to Gaia's relief. She slipped out of the room half an hour later with two empty bowls, setting them in the sink before moving deliberately across from her husband as he drank and stared off into space.

"He's four years old, Erik. Will you be discussing taxes when he turns five?" She reprimanded harshly, and Erik swirled the wine in his glass. Quietly she wondered what glass he was on.

"The boy has a right to know, Gaia."

"A right to know what, Erik? That his father will never remarry because he's too ugly for another woman to love? That everything dies?"

"No, Gaia, that his mother is dying," Erik snapped. "Something you need to start accepting yourself."

"…Erik you are a monster sometimes, do you know that? What on earth puts you into these moods? Get your head out of the grave and start enjoying life again, my love! How many glasses of wine have you had?"

"Enough?" Erik answered curtly, finishing his glass and standing.

"How many, Erik?"

"I believe that was the last of the bottle."

Gaia glared at him. "I don't like you when you get into these moods, Erik. Drinking isn't the answer-"

"Then what is, Gaia?" He whirled on her, shouting. "I'm tired of pretending like nothing's wrong! I'm tired of you trying to distract me with sex and games when you're well, and of you making me into the monster when you're sick. The disease is the monster, Gaia! You're never well, it's only in hiding! I can't… pretend anymore, Gaia. I just can't. Seeing you like this, seeing Adrian like this, it's killing me, and you won't even acknowledge that it's happening! So while you think of another answer for my misery, I'm going to get another drink," he announced, stalking off into the cellar for another bottle of wine.

His wife gave pursuit, moving down the stairs after him before finally catching him and pulling his arm hard enough to cause him to turn. Gaia pressed her lips on his firmly, not having to pull his head down from where she stood a step above him on the stairs. Erik's mouth melted against hers as she kissed him soundly, jumping up onto him after a moment and wrapping her legs around his middle. She was surprised to feel him so thoroughly aroused after a full bottle of wine, and began unbuttoning his shirt just enough to nip at his neck and collarbone. He groaned delightfully, carrying her down the final two steps to press her firmly enough against the wall to undo her trousers and take her while she was still in her skirts.

Gaia returned to her feet, breathing heavily as her husband caught his breath, still pressing her firmly against the wall. She held him tight around his middle, breathing in his wonderful scent. "…I can't do anything more than pretend, Erik. I'm not ready to leave you."