Chapter 12

I'mmmm Baaaaaaaaaaaaccccccccccccckkkkkkk!

Disclaimer: Nopedy nope-nope-nope!

Review Replies

EbonyLilyofOz: I LOVE Hugh Jackman! But I also think that Christine's choice wasn't between good and bad, but passion and security. Though if it had been, Hugh would have been an excellent choice, even as the Phantom himself, he's an awesome singer. Hugh? Drool every time he walks on screen. But in essence, I am Erik's slave, though a choice between Van Helsing or Wolverine and Erik would have had me hard pressed. Raoul is just to safe for me, he's so boring, sweet secure, lavish in praise and gifts, just like my ex bf, yawn city. Anyway, nice to hear from you

Trisana: Sorry but I'm going on without you my dear. One Cloned Gerry coming your way my dear, don't forget to feed him every now and again.

Aurella: Sorry about the wait, writers block

Reltistic: rhino? Uh...yeah, cant wait for your block to end

Lady Assassin Moonbeam: Mm...I liked that dream

Daylightsshadow: Welcome! Shaun mascot flags are on the table by the door.

Jen Lennon: (cries) poor Don Juan outfit...am sad

Cap'n Meg: Don't glare at me like that! (but I am a lucky bitch)

Erik woke when his elbow slipped off the chair and his chin connected sharply with a wooden arm. Groaning he rubbed his jaw, his gaze flickering towards the bed. The sheets were crumpled, but with no sign of Louise. He jumped up and ran out the door, worry etched into his face like a second disfigurement. He found her in the kitchen, measuring grain and feed for Cinnamon. She gave no sign she had heard him enter, eyes lost in the steady stream of golden grain that poured from the wooden scoop into the bucket with a rattling chinking sound.

"L-Louise?" he blurted out, she let the last of the grain fall into the pail and turned to look at him. "Good morning Erik," she replied calmly. Erik looked at her with concern, a scant few hours ago she had been weeping in his arms, how could she act so calm now?

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, she shrugged, "As well as can be expected." She put the scoop back in the large bin and looked around for the lid, "How is your leg?"

"Fine," he replied, snatching the lid from the kitchen table before her fingers reached it. He paused and looked at her for a moment, searching for any sense of pain or anguish, but she remained as closed as Pandora's box. Beautiful outside, but for all he knew, a rampaging storm of emotions trapped within. Seeing nothing, he finally handed the lid "Why did that man call you a gypsy?" he asked. Louise's eyes suddenly blazed in her calm pale face, "That fool knows nothing of me Erik." She hissed, slamming the lid on the bun with a dull clang. "Nothing!"

Erik was taken aback by her sudden fury, but waited, raising an eyebrow at her, she glanced up at him and bit the inside of her cheek, "Just leave it will ye not?" her voice slipping into the village brogue. For the first time Erik noticed her voice and pronunciation were different to those of Dion, she spoke with a deliberate but late education, impressions of her youth still printed under her words. Erik started slightly as he realised, all was not as it seemed, but the again, he was the lord of all illusions, was he not?
"Where are you from?" he took the pail from her hands and placed it beside her, Louise turned from him and rested her hands on the bench, staring at the whitewashed walls.

"What was that song you sang to me?" she asked instead.

"Music of the Night" he answered automatically, "Wait! Don't change the subject mademoiselle!"

A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips, "Too late" she replied, he scowled at her.

"Then tell me of yourself," he tried a different tack.

"Of my life here?" she shrugged, "There is little to tell,"

Frustrated he went and stood beside her, breathing in the rosemary scent, he knew if he ever was lost again, he could probably find his way back to this place simply by that scent alone. "Tell me," he said quietly.

Louise stopped and took her hands off the bench. "Erik…" she paused and took a breath to start again, "Erik, I know I've asked you about your own past, and I feel honoured that you have trusted me enough to allow me to know what lies in your soul. But I cannot tell you the same of me…at least, not now." She picked up her pail and went to take it outside, Erik blocked her way, "You do not trust me," he accused, she shook her head,

"I do not trust myself," she answered. She walked around him and out to where Cinnamon neighed impatiently, Erik followed doggedly,

"At least tell me who she is?" he pleaded, Louise stiffened, "Who?" she asked, though her heart already told her the answer.

"Claire" Erik breathed, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, she moved away from him before his fingers even reached the cloth of her shirt. Loose blonde hair falling like a barrier between them. "Claire? She was mine…a lifetime ago." She strode over to the stables, not looking back at him, "And I've asked you not to do that Erik, for my sake, please?"

Erik followed her out, noting with guilt that he had not bothered to rub down Cinnamon properly, he took up a brush and began the task of smoothing the dust and sweat from the young mare's coat. "Leave it," Louise commanded, "She has a temp- "

Cinnamon tuned and clamped her jaws on Erik's arm, he jumped back with a curse as Louise laughed cynically. "I suppose you think it funny?" he demanded, massaging his wounded arm. "Go inside, Erik, I'll calm her."

Stubbornly, Erik shook his head, "It has never been my life to sit around and be waited on," he told her, she sighed, taking up the fallen brush, "There's a pile of wood outside that needs to be chopped, I trust you know how to handle an axe?" Erik nodded briefly and left, he would wait, he had not given up yet.

Louise continued to brush Cinnamon with the lost expression of one utterly absorbed in her task to the point of no longer thinking of anything else, the steady rhythmic chopping of Erik with the axe lulled her thoughts into nothingness. Finally finished with Cinnamon's grooming, she put the bush and combs away to walk outside, blinking in the midday sun. The slow creak of a goat drawn cart caught her ears and she turned to the track to see a dusty Shaun making his way up her road.

"Shaun!" she cried in genuine pleasure, the boys face lifted and he grinned and waved from under his hat. Flicking a birch rod at the hind legs of his white goat, he trundled up to the gate as she ran down to meet him.

"Shaun Peterson, well if you ain't a sight for sore eyes. What is it that ye doin' a visitin' me?" she laughed, Shaun drew himself up proudly, and handed her a mended iron pot, full to the brim with fresh raspberries. "Me Pa jest finished ye pot Miss Louise," he stated, "And these 'ere berries is frum me Mam an Missy fer yer help with Sara." His face took on a solemn tone, "The funerals this Sat'day, Miss Louise, Sara wants ye there,"

"Right," Louise frowned slightly, "What does Mickel say to all this?"

Shaun grinned mischievously, "I dunno what it is that ye friend did te 'im, Miss Louise, but he sure as eggs got all them big men a quakin' in their boots, bin a fun thing te watch, no mistake"

Louise smiled at him, "Well come in fer a cool drink then young Shaun, I've a mind that ye've been out in this sun fer longer than what's good fer ye, n I can't be eatin' these berries all on my lonesome now can I?" Shaun grinned guiltily in reply, tugging on his jacket in an attempt to hide the red stains already on his sleeves, Louise saw this and hid a grin. "Come on then, leave poor Bessie in the shade under the tree." The two began to make their way back into the house, Louise balancing the full pot against her hip when an unmasked and red-faced Erik came around the garden wall, axe in one hand and rubbing sweat out of his eyes. Shaun took one look at Erik's face and the axe in his strong arms and gave a yelp of dismay, then, rather bravely for an eight-year-old, jumped in front of Louise. "You run Miss Louise," he said valiantly, holding his birch whip at the ready "I'll hold 'im"

Erik, whose face had flickered into a small smile at the sight of Shaun, collapsed and he dropped the axe, shielding his face with his arms. Louise dropped her pot onto the grass, spilling half the berries. "No Shaun don't!" she cried, catching the young tigercub's arm "He's a friend" She pulled Shaun into her embrace, working the branch from his fingers, "He's a friend," she repeated, half to herself. Erik took one look at them together and ran back out into the garden, "Erik, wait!" he heard Louise cry, he tripped on a rock and stumbled to his knees, pain shooting up his leg, he crawled to the well and knelt, resting his hideous face on his arms in despair.

"No Shaun, no! Come inside, he wont hurt you, I promise," Louise hushed his young fears, she picked up her pot, casually tossing in most of the berries that had spilt, "Come on now, inside, I'll get you a drink." She ushered him inside and set him down with a cup of milk and a plate of bread butter and berries. "Wait here," she told him as he dug in, worry creasing her pale brow.

She walked outside to find Erik still kneeling at the well, his shoulders shaking with invisible sobs. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was still in her garden. "Erik," she called softly, touching his shoulder with light fingers, "Erik, look at me."

Slowly he lifted his face and looked at her, tears coursing down the ravines of his torn face, with a sigh she dipped a corner of her apron into the bucket hanging over the well and wiped the tears from his eyes, "Come inside," she urged gently, Erik turned away from her, "I cant," he muttered thickly, "You can," she said firmly, "You must, if you ever want Shaun to trust you."

Erik rounded on her angrily, "You would have me show him! Show this face which earnt a mother's fear and loathing?"

"Better than this heart which knows a mother's loss and sorrow!" Louise cried in pain, tears forming in her own eyes. She took a shuddering breath and getting a hold of herself, continued, "Shaun has seen you Erik, nothing can change that fact, but you have a choice, you can meet and find a friend in him, or you can turn yourself away from his kindness and my own."

"We've already met," Erik replied with a humourless laugh, "He was the one who guided me to you yesterday." Was it only yesterday? He thought, it feels so long ago. Louise smiled gently, "Then it will only be easier, he already trusts you."

"And yet you don't" Erik returned bitterly, hanging his head. Louise put her fingers under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes.

"I only said I didn't trust myself Erik, that doesn't mean I don't trust you," she smiled.

"But how can you know that he will not run to his village and call his father and uncles to arms?" Erik cried brokenly.

"I only know that he will not do such a thing if only you will talk with him," Louise retorted impatiently, Erik's face flickered with a half smile, "Can you promise that?" he asked in a humourless tone, Louise shook her head, "I can promise nothing," she replied, cupping his jaw in her hand, "But this," she reached up and kissed him tenderly, with lips that tasted of warm butter and dry tears, and skin that smelt of rosemary. Then she drew back and looked at him with a smile, Erik's eyes fluttered open in surprise, taking her hand with his own he pressed it ho his lips. "Now come," she said gently, "Let's go inside"