Adellade gasped, waking from the nightmare. She sighed, staring at the wall of her room. She slowly sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to banish the nightmare.

Something made a noise and she looked around, searching for the source.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

She stood and pulled on her robe, wrapping it over her nightgown as she walked out into the living room. She glanced around at the flat, wondering what made the noise.

There was a bang and she whirled around, sighing in relief when she saw it was only a window. She walked over and closed the window, tightening the lock. Adellade shook her head, thinking how silly it was of her! Being frightened by a window of all things!

"Strange. The things a girl can be frightened by when she doesn't have her mother…."

She turned, seeing the woman sitting in the chair. Adellade stood there, staring at her in shock and disbelief.

"How are you-you can't be…."

"Haven't you learned, dear?" Madeline stood and walked over to her. "I'm your mother. I'll always be here for you."

"No. You can't be here! You're dead."

"I'm here for my daughter."

Adellade took a step back. "I am not your daughter. I will never be your daughter."

"Adellade…."

"No! I am not your daughter and you are not my mother!" She stepped around her. "Besides: you're dead. You have no control over my life anymore."

"I am your mother!" Madeline insisted.

"You are not my mother," she growled, reaching for the nearest object. "And you never will be!"

She hurled it at Madeline, watching as the object flew through her and against the wall.

XXXXX

Adellade sighed, staring at the grave before her, reading the words over and over again. Madeline Destler was dead. She was dead and buried right here in this very grave. There was no denying that fact. She was dead. The woman was dead. She didn't have to worry about Madeline. She didn't have to worry that her mother would try to find them, would try to hurt Erik, would try to take him away from her….

Some others walked by and she caught their eye, seeing the glances of pity. How strange it was to have pity. They thought her to be a loving daughter still mourning her mother's death.

It was also strange to feel no loss for Madeline's death. She was the woman who had demanded that every single thing Adellade did be perfection. She was the woman who had sold her own children off to the gypsies for a sack of coins. She was the woman who had threatened to hurt Erik unless Adellade had played along. She was the woman who had looked at her with a smug grin, expecting that she would take the revolver and kill him out of loyalty….

Yet a part of her stil felt wrong for feeling no loss. She felt as if she ought to feel something at least-anything at all, even. Even with everything she had ever done: Madeline had still been her mother; she had still been the woman who had given birth to her. She wanted to feel something, yet she couldn't no matter how hard she tried. There was simply nothing there.

XXXXX

Erik adjusted the brim of his hat as he returned home, glancing at the people passing by. Now that the composition had been delivered, he was free to return home. Though he did enjoy the ability to walk amongst the crowds, he never did grown accustomed to the amount of people.

He sighed and glanced at one of the shops, seeing what they had for sale. There were some interesting toys in the window. Perhaps Gustave would enjoy one of the wooden ones. His birthday was approaching soon. His son was growing up fast, that was for certain. One of the other toys caught his eye and he smiled to himself, wondering if Gustave might enjoy having a little brother or sister.

He paused though, seeing something reflected in the glass. Erik turned to see what it was. He frowned and crossed the street, walking over where she was.

"What might you be doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Adellade pointed out.

"A composition needed to be delivered…." He glanced at the name on the grave, seeing that it was none other than Madeline's.

"I'm certain he'll enjoy it," she murmured half-distractedly. "They always enjoy your music, you know."

"Erik is always happy to compose if it makes Adellade happy. Why are you here though?"

"I needed to know she was dead." Adellade sighed. "Is it wrong to stand here and feel nothing? To feel as if I'm looking at another grave?"

He reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him. He wanted to reassure her that it wasn't wrong at all, yet he could also see the desperation on her face, could see the years she had spent believing that Madeline had been a good mother….

Instead he led her back to her flat. She walked over to the kitchen and began making tea, though he had a suspicion that she wouldn't drink any, yet the habit was still there years later.

Erik watched as she moved, seeing her go through the motions despite her mind being elsewhere. He sighed, catching the sight of faded scars whenever her sleeve would move. He had thought Mazenderan would always be the worst for her, yet now he wasn't quite certain. He had never imagined that Madeline would cause her this much pain...that she would cause Adellade to have nightmares once more….

It didn't take much for him to see how little sleep she had been getting. The paleness to her skin, the shadows forming underneath her eyes, even the way her dress seemed just a bit too big for her size. All that from a nightmare that carried the name of Madeline Destler.

She walked over and poured a mug of tea for him, setting it on the table before going to examine her collection of books for something to read. He turned to his mug, swirling the contents around before taking a sip.

Erik stayed there for a bit longer, watching her as she read. He could see her flinching every time she was about to fall asleep, could see her trying to keep herself awake despite wanting to sleep. He sighed and walked over to her, sitting on a nearby stool.

"It's late," he pointed out. "You ought to get some rest."

"I'm alright for now. You ought to be returning home. Christine will be wondering where you've been all this time."

He reached up and took the book from her and set it aside.

"Erik?"

"You need sleep, Adellade," he insisted.

"I'm alright." She stood and he stood with her. "Honestly, Erik. You worry too much sometimes."

He sighed and hugged her. "Promise you'll sleep tonight?"

"If it'll put your mind at ease."