Chapter 9

Disclaimer: (blows harmonica note) All together now! We all know I don't (clap!) own the Phantom (clap!) Own the Phantom! (Clap!) Own the Phantom. We all know I don't (clap!) own the Phantom! We all just love our Erik!

Erik limped back inside, humming the song Louise had been singing that morning (By the way, It's Golden, Golden by Silly Wizard), it felt good to sing again, he paused inside the door, looking at a familiar brown object, Louise's kit.

"Merde!" he hissed, she would need that. He looked out towards the town. The dust from his healer's wild ride had already settled, he paused uncertainly. He could take it, but he would need his mask, and he had no idea where Louise had put the damned thing.

He stood there undecided, when a familiar toll started out over the hills.

Clang! Dang-dang-dang-dang-dang-ding dong! (My failed attempts at belling Point of no return). Erik started, only Louise would know that, the signal was for him. He limped quickly into her room and looked around. No sign of a mask on the shelves, but a half opened trunk gave a glimpse of white through the shadows. He reached in and tugged the item out.

It was not his mask however, but an ivory box, with gilt paint that spelled the words

For My Darling Daughter Claire

Erik stared, Louise had a daughter? Yet she wore no ring, and had claimed to have no husband. Unless she was lying to protect them from him. He gripped the box in anger. Damn his face!

Then Point of no Return started again, over the hills. Erik shook his head, dropping the box, a tiny scrap of paper fluttered out from inside and disappeared under the bed, he reached out one long hand and felt around underneath, beside the dust, his fingers brushed against a familiar object, his mask.

Pulling it out, Erik quickly shoved the box back into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. He looked at the white porcelain for a moment, then slipped it on. Strange, he thought, that it would ever feel uncomfortable to hide my face, rather than show it. He would have mused longer (mused, I love that word) but this was not the time for reflection. Tying the strings on his shirt he walked determinedly to the door and picked up the kit. Then he winced, looking down at the gravel track, then down at his bare feet, he looked around for a moment, and found his boots, cleaned and polished, just behind the door.

Aha, he thought, sitting to pull them on, he grabbed up his crutch, he would have preferred to leave it, but he knew in his weakened state, he could not make the distance, let alone survive the berating from Louise once she found out.

Kit in one hand, and crutch in the other, the remasked Phantom set out, limping along as quickly as he dared to Dion.

It took Erik forty minutes to walk to Dion, stopping once for a breather. The kit was heavier than he thought. He limped into the small town and looked about in bewilderment, where to find Louise?

Then he shrugged, a town this small, everyone had to know everyone else's business.

"Excuse me?" he called to a woman sweeping her porch, she looked up, took one glance at him and made the sign of the cross over her ample breasts, quickly stumbling her huge weight back into her house, slamming the door shut. Of course, Erik thought, it wouldn't be easy.

He sighed and turned away, to find a young boy of about eight, clutching a half eaten apple, staring at him.

"Yes?" he asked coldly, the boy gaped, tilting his head back to look up at him.

"Gor Blimey!" he whispered, "You is tall!"

"How observant of you," Erik retorted, scanning the streets for another adult.

"Hey!" the boy said sharply, "What you doin' with Miss Louise's bag?"

Erik looked down at the boy piercingly, "You know her?" he asked, quickly taking a more mollifying tone, the boy snorted, taking a bite out of the half eaten apple.

"Course I does" he replied, around the mouthful "she delivered me little bruvas 'n' sistas for me mam."

"I need to find her" Erik said, lifting the kit to prove his point, "She needs this. And I don't know my way around town."

"D'ye ken where she be?" the boy swallowed his apple and looked at Erik expectantly, Erik racked his brain (has that term ever struck someone as a little odd, not to mention the mental picture it goes with).

"Someone called Sara, went into labour?" he guessed, the boy whistled,

"Gain?" he mumbled around a fresh bite, "Hooee, she'll be lucky te keep it. Too early she is." He turned and wandered down the street, then looked back at Erik, "Ye comin?" Erik snatched up his crutch and the kit and followed. The boy's name, he learned, was Shaun, second son of Peter the blacksmith, he had seven siblings, apparently fairly average around here, four of whom were "Sprites fresh outta the kettle" and still too young to work, while he, being third eldest, but youngest to work, "Gets stuck with all the rotten jobs ye ken?" helping his father in the smithy. He told Erik not to worry about Old Missus Crumper "Grumper Crumper with the biggest Rumper, we calls her" he whispered conspiratorially to Erik, looking around fugitively in case the large bodied woman was to come swooping down on him with her yard stick.

Erik nodded and followed, sympathizing with the boys woes, and laughing at the amusing, but accurate descriptions of the townsfolk.

"That there be Jessie Cutts, could cut butter with that nose o' hers, if ye could get past her ego, and sittin' over there on the log is Ol' Toby, he tells the best stories in town, if ye kin stand the stench o' the pipe he smokes, reckons he does it jus so all the busybodies don't come near 'im. And this 'ere is Sara Bickerman's house, good luck." He indicated the house with his apple core, where a loud screaming and crying could be heard, issuing from the open windows upstairs.

"Thankyou," Erik said gratefully, leaning on his crutch, he looked down at young Shaun and a thought crossed his mind, "May I have that?" he asked, pointing at Shaun's apple core. Shaun stared at him, then shrugged.

"Don't know what ye wantin' it fer, but sure Mister, here" the slightly sticky core landed in Erik's outstretched palm, and he quickly retracted his hand against his breast.

"Now you have to keep this a secret," he whispered, setting down his crutch. "One" he held up a finger, and wrapped his hand around the core, "Two," he made a ball with his hands and shook the apple core next to Shaun's ear, "Can you hear that?" Shaun nodded his sandy head. "Now blow on it" a short huff brushed over Erik's fingers.

"Three!" Erik opened his hands and tossed out a big shiny red apple, Shaun caught it and stared at it wide eyed.

"Thanks mister!" he exclaimed, taking a bite, "How'd ye do that?" Erik chuckled,

"Ah, now that would be telling," he laid a finger to his lips, "Now remember, not a word."

Shaun nodded delightedly and scampered off down the street as Louise rushed out the door, covered in blood and fluid.

"Oh Erik, thank God!" she exclaimed, snatching up her kit, "Come inside, I need your help!"

Erik baulked at the door, "Me? But, it's a birthing…" Louise grabbed his hand,

"There is no time!" she stated, dragging him upstairs. "Genna's fainted, Missy's got one baby and I've got to get the other baby out before we lose Sara."

She towed him up the stairs and into the room with all the screaming. An extremely pale dark haired woman of thirty or so lay exhausted on the bed, while a white-faced child of fourteen clutched a wailing bundle and a crumpled heap of blue on the floor bespoke the fate of the third.

"Put your hands here." Louise grasped Erik's wrists and placed them on Sara's distended belly, then she pulled open her kit and started smearing an oily lotion onto her hands. "Now when I say push, push down, one steady hard movement. Alright?" Erik nodded, keeping his eyes trained on a crack in the wall, even as his face continued to burn bright red. Louise flipped back the Sara woman's skirts and gently reached in her hands, "Right" she murmured, then her voice cracked, "Push!"

Erik pushed down, and felt something move under his hands, he risked a look at Louise who was holding a slimy bundle of something, then glanced away again, feeling sick.

Louise looked down at the second twin, no screaming came from the lungs of this little one, no breath moved in its chest. It was half the size of its sister, Louise gently wiped the blood from its brow and eyes and bowed her head in sorrow. The baby's heart had been formed outside its body, it had been dead for close to a week. She checked the sex, a male, the heir to the Bickerman's dead before he even began.

"Here is your longed for son, Patrick." She muttered, breathing deeply. She looked at the other girl. "Can you handle Sara, Missy?" she asked quietly, "There is something I must attend to." The fourteen year old nodded fiercely.

"The weed?" she demanded harshly, Louise nodded and the girl's eyes hardened, "He's going to pay." She promised ominously.

"That he will," Louise lifted a damp cloth from a bowl of water by Sara's head and wiped the baby's face down, Sara moaned quietly. Then she took a blanket from a cradle set in the corner and proceeded to wrap the baby gently, with infinite tenderness. She glanced at Erik, "Come with me."

A/N: Shaun is a pigment of my infatuation, he jumped straight out of my head while writing, I think I quite like him actually. (giggles) Think I might keep him, what do you think? Should be become our little Healer Mascot?