A/N: As promised, the rest of her story. Or, part of the rest of her story. She has a whole lot of story left to tell.

"When my grandfather finally found us, my mother had been sick for months. None of the doctors we hired had been able to so much as diagnose a particular illness, but they were all very sure that she was dying. My grandfather visited her and asked for permission to adopt me, as he had no other heir. I didn't want to go with him at first. I had known a good life in the camp, and had...people who cared about me there. But my mother wanted me to go; she told me that I would have a better life with him. In the end, he promised me all sorts of comforts, and I consented."

What I conveniently did not mention was the fact that I had been more swayed by his promises of beautiful dresses and splendid parties than anything else. I left the only home I had ever known for the stupid things that selfish children like me wanted. I got the strangest feeling that Erik guessed why I had gone with my grandfather, and it made me sincerely uncomfortable. I just hoped that he did not guess that I, like my father, had left behind someone who loved me. I could not bear for him to know my secret shame, that being rich had been more appealing than being loved by a good man.

"I returned with him to Alsace when my mother died. He never tried to cover up the fact that I was the illegitimate daughter of his son, but he never let on that my mother was a gypsy dancing girl. He had everyone in the town convinced that my mother was some noblewoman from Paris, whose name he did not reveal out of respect for her family. In fact, Leon was the only person who knew who she really was, untilI was imprisoned and he told the whole town."

"How did he find out?" Erik's eyes were very disconcerting, and I felt that he was staring through my body to the somewhat tarnished soul beneath.

"I told him." He raised an eyebrow. "I was in love with him, I never imagined that he would use it against me."

"So that is why you did not tell me." I was a little confused by his comment, and looked at him for an explanation. "Your past made you vulnerable to his scheme, and you didn't want it to happen again."

I had never thought about it that much, but it was true. Leon would never have been able to do what he did if my mother had in fact been a noblewoman. The people he used to condemn me never would have followed him if they feared a wealthy, influential family's wrath.

"I suppose that's true. But I think that if he didn't know that I was vulnerable, he would have found some other scapegoat." A small voice in my head starting whispering that he had never loved me at all; that he had courted me because he knew that I would let him use me. I didn't much like the direction that thought would take me in, and tried to divert the attention back to Erik.

"How did you guess my heritage so easily? I hate to think it was that obvious. You must know something about gypsy clans."

He got the strangest look on his face, and quickly turned from me to hide it. There was a horrible sadness and anger in his eyes that I could see even in the growing darkness, that told me any experience he had with gypsies was not a pleasant one. He hesitated for a long while, before speaking, and I became increasingly aware of the fact that many of the candles had burned out around us while I told my story.

"I also traveled with a gypsy fair for a time." His voice was colder than before, as if he was steeling himself for some terrible test. "They found me wandering around Rouen, and decided that a face like mine would have great value on display."

Oh God. It made sense; I had seen the people who traveled with our sideshow, and none of their faces really compared with his. In the dark recesses of my mind, a memory began to surface, a memory of a story I had been told, that had been used to frighten me. While my mind tried to recall the specifics of the tale, he continued, his voice coming out harshly.

"A man named Zurka adopted me." From the way he spit out the words, I could tell that his adoption had probably been more like an imprisonment. The name seemed familiar, though, like a warning.

'Greedy old Zurka made a mistake,

Took in a demon, a profit to make.

But such evil cannot stand to be bound,

and he killed greedy Zurka, with a rope that he found .'

I remembered the other children chanting it, when they dared me to enter that forest in Orleans. What were those last lines? "He put me on display for the crowds to come and gawk at." The steel in Erik's voice was threatening to cut through me. He must have noticed my distant expression as my mind reached in vain for that story, and he seemed to take offense at it. He grabbed me by my shoulders, his hands shaking with rage, and lowered his face to my level, so that I could stare directly into his furious green eyes. "Do you want to know what he called me? What he wrote on the banner above my cage? Do you!"

I remembered. 'So hush, little child, be on guard at all time...' How did it end?

"Or the Devil's Child will treat you in kind."

This last line I spoke out loud, before Erik could continue. His eyes grew wide with shock, and he released my shoulders, stepping back as though I had slapped him. For a moment, he was silent, staring at me in shock. Then he spoke again, his voice a harsh whisper.

"How did you know that?"

"It was a story. The older children used to tell about a boy with the face of Satan himself. A boy who killed his master and escaped in Paris, around the same time that I was conceived. They always told us that we shouldn't wander too far from the camp, or he would come and get us." Erik's breathing was becoming erratic and loud, as he turned his back on me. I decided not to dwell on that particular note any longer. From what I knew of this man, he was prone to sudden, violent mood changes, and I didn't really want to find out how exactly he had earned the fear that was accorded to him.

For what seemed like an eternity, he stood a few feet away from me, his back turned so that I could not see his face. My intution told me that something else ought to be said. Erik looked so dejected, standing the way he was, with his hand on his mask, and his shoulders slightly hunched, as if the weight of his memories was too much for him to carry. I began to walk toward him, hoping that he would not move away. I needn't have worried; even when I stood directly behind him, he did not take notice of my presence.

Hesitantly, unsure of how my gesture would be received, I placed a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered at my touch, but did not say a word. Slowly, I walked so that I was facing him, running my hand down his arm as I did so, until I reached his hand. Impulsively, I reached out to grasp the other, and stood for a moment just staring at the black leather gloves he always wore, not wanting to see his expression.

"For whatever it is worth, and I realize that it may not mean anything at all, I am sorry. I am sorry that the people I called family treated you so. I am sorry that I laughed at that story with all the other children, thinking that it was funny. And I am sorry that I have nothing to offer you in return for the kindness you have shown me."

He just stared at my face, while I wondered if he would take offense at my pity, if I had only made my situation worse. My questions were answered when he uttered a strangled sob, then dropped to his knees, overcome by some emotion I could not read, and tangled his hands into my skirt, his face pressed against my legs as if I were the only thing left to support him.

A/N: Many thanks to my little sister for the Devil's Child rhyme. Looks like we are headed towards some fluffiness. Or maybe not. Better review to find out!