"Thank you, Sir."

Arabella took the jar of fresh milk and placed it into her recently acquired basket of grocery items. She had entirely forgotten about transporting the food until she was standing in the middle of the market street with an armful of food. Luckily, finding a basket had been easy enough... although her obvious desperation for it had probably caused the merchant to swindle her slightly. She clearly couldn't stand there all day arguing with him in her thickly accented French. She'd filled the basket with cheese, fruit, vegetables, a little fresh meat, milk, and bread. She saved the meat and milk for last, after realizing she had no clothes and hurried to buy a second-hand blouse and skirt from one of the shopkeepers on the edge of the market. She probably could have afforded something brand new, but she hadn't wanted to press her luck with spending Erik's money for her own needs.

It took over an hour to find the things she needed. If it hadn't been for her obvious foreignness, perhaps she could have returned to the lake sooner. As it was, her looks and accent earned her hard glares and several cold shoulders. Obtaining all the things she needed was not easy when you were so clearly an outsider in oversized boots and cloak.

She began to think halfway through her errand that perhaps wearing the bright dress and no shoes at all might have gotten her better results. Maybe then she could've at least distracted the male merchants with what little skin and ample curves she owned. She hated using her looks to get anything - due to her past. But she would use it if necessary. She wasn't beyond seeing the positive side of such a thing.

Now that she had all the food they would need for several days – including ingredients for a stew that she could cook until everything was soft enough for Erik to eat without much effort – she could return to the Opera. She could start taking care of him and cleaning up his dusty home so it would be a better place for him to recuperate. Maybe she could even give him the comfort he so clearly needed.

He would just have to want such a thing from her. Accepting her presence when all but delusional was not the same as welcoming her back with open arms.

She was so preoccupied with these thoughts, that she didn't think much of the slightly open gate leading to where she'd left the boat on the lake. She had, after all, taken off rather quickly when she saw Darius. It was entirely possible she hadn't latched the gate tightly. She certainly hadn't locked it! She hadn't wanted to carry around that cumbersome key. With a sigh of relief that all she had to do now was make it across the lake without drowning, she barely noticed that the underground lake was slightly lighted and she wouldn't have to grope blindly to the boat.

"Who are you?"

She nearly dropped the basket she carried; but was so determined to bring it to Erik that she quickly redoubled her grip on the handle. Her wide eyes turned, and she nearly toppled in the oversized boots she wore. Now, of course, she could quite plainly see the lantern that had offered her its meager light.

Nadir Kahn was stepping forward from where he'd been leaning against a wall to the side of the gate; apparently having waited until he was thoroughly able to block her escape route outside before making himself known. There was no sign of his man, Darius.

"I…" She stared blankly at Nadir, realizing she hadn't even tried to think of what to tell him. She'd known this could happen, and hadn't even considered what her answers to his questions would be! As she stared dumbly at him, Nadir swept his eyes slowly up and down her frame, taking in her darkish skin, oversized cloak, and cloud of hair.

"I know that cloak." He murmured quietly. His tone wasn't quite accusatory, but it was fairly close. No doubt he was building to it. "I saw it many times in Persia. Where did you get it?"

"He let me use it." Arabella finally managed, hoping that if she could be as succinct as possible, Nadir wouldn't drag her into a long conversation about where she'd come from and who she was.

"He?" Nadir raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Arabella pointed toward the opposite side of the lake, feeling the weight of her basket drag her now overburdened shoulder down.

"You know him?"

"Yes." She admitted quickly. "Yes. I must go. He is ill. I must go to him."

"But who are-"

"Please, Daroga."

The form of address threw him off guard, and Nadir took half a step back, staring at her with eyes as wide as her own had been when he'd startled her.

"You know me, mademoiselle?"

Arabella shifted uncomfortably.

"I know of you." She admitted reluctantly, motioning to his affected Parisian garb - influenced by his Persian beginnings. "It is obvious who you are."

There was a moment of silence before Nadir seemed to comprehend everything she had said so far.

"I didn't know he cared enough to speak of me." He whispered, seeming a little stunned. Then, he blinked and seemed to shake off the disbelief. "You really do know him. You say he is ill?"

"Yes Sir." Arabella felt like she would slip into one of her own native tongues if she didn't get moving soon. The worry over Erik was simply too great to continue concentrating on the French language. "He needs food."

"All right then." Nadir stepped toward her, rolling up his sleeves ad looking as though he were going to step around her. "Get in the boat. I will take us there if you point the way for me."

"He won't want to see-"

"-He won't have a choice." Nadir nearly snapped. "He is my friend, Mademoiselle. I don't know you. You seem to mean well enough, but I will see him for myself. And if this is some strange trick – being done to you or being done by you … well… we shall see."

His threat should have made her cower; but Arabella of course knew Nadir quite a bit more than she'd let on. He wasn't the type of man to harm a woman simply because of some sort of weird trick. Yes, he would be upset if she was luring him into a trap… but he wasn't likely to harm her. She knew he was more concerned about Erik truly being ill. Maybe he was even half convinced that his old friend had truly gone around an irreversible bend and lost his mind; tricking her into being near or with him. He had, after all, abducted Christine. In his latest of emotional states; who was to say he wouldn't do it again?

Arabella climbed into the boat, again folding the cloak under her as a cushion and then kicking off the annoyingly clunky boots. After being wrapped in Erik's cloak for so long, the closed-in lake seemed uncomfortably chill… but she was desperate to stop feeling quite so clumsy. She rested the basket of food between her feet while Nadir climbed in and took the oars from her when she attempted to take them up herself.

"Such a pretty young lady should not have to exert herself." He stated with a touch of flirtation in his glittering eyes. This made Arabella blush slightly and manage a little smile. He was further confirming her sense of safety around him. Even though he didn't know what to make of her or her presence here, his instant concern for Erik overrode his suspicions.

He is a good man. She thought. It didn't matter that he was several years older than Erik; and frail from his imprisonment in Mazandaran. He was a gentleman – and a gentle man. I am glad he and Erik found each other again.

They were halfway across the lake when he spoke again.

"How ill is he?"

Arabella considered her answer to this, but could not think of why she would lie.

"He's very weak. He'll get better soon with food."

Nadir stared at her. She could feel his eyes boring into her. But when she didn't get more specific, he sighed in resignation.

"You don't say much, do you?"

"The French… is new to me."

"I see… What is your name?"

Arabella ducked her head. She tried to remember if Erik had ever mentioned her – even slightly – to Nadir before. Had he, perhaps, said something in his delirium after being poisoned at the new Vizier's wedding? She didn't think so. He certainly had never mentioned her by name. This man couldn't possibly guess that she was someone from Erik's long-gone past.

"Arabella."

"It is good to meet another friend of Erik's, Mademoiselle Arabella."

In spite of all the years that had gone by, she couldn't help a flash of indignation that Nadir had called her Mademoiselle. It wasn't his fault, of course. He had no way of knowing she was a married woman. And she wouldn't correct him because of all the questions that would follow the statement. Still… she was surprised that she could feel so much pride in being a Madam instead of a Mademoiselle; that being addressed incorrectly might sting. She simply stared ahead while Nadir continued rowing, straining her eyes for the sight of Erik's door.

Not long after, the boat lightly struck the stone embankment of the lake, and Arabella nearly leapt from the boat in her eagerness to reach Erik. She brought only the basket of food with her, ignoring the clothing she'd left behind and not caring that Nadir paused to collect them. It felt as though days had passed since she'd left Erik. It was more unnerving than she'd have ever imagined, being that far away from him for so long.

She burst through the front door and placed the basket hurriedly on the nearest clear surface on her way to check on him in the bedroom. It was on the tip of her tongue to cry out his name; but quickly reminded herself that he might still be resting. Besides… what was she to do if he was awake? All she could really do now was to give him a little milk, and maybe a small piece of bread. It would be better if she just reheated the kettle of tea and served him that while the stew cooked.

Erik wasn't sleeping. To her great surprise, he wasn't even in bed. Erik instead seemed at first to be completely gone. The simple lack of his presence in the unmade bed, with his shoes still dropped carelessly on the floor, sent her into a near panic.

Then she noticed how the blankets and sheets were all fell off the side of the bed opposite the door, as though they'd been pulled in that direction. Even one of the pillows was perched precariously on the edge.

"Erik?" she cried, rushing around the foot of the bed and peering anxiously down at the floor. Nadir's shadow - faint but still visible – fell over the floor and bed of the room as he tried to see what had alarmed her.

She paused only briefly at the bottom corner of the bed, focusing on the form of her weak husband sprawled in the corner of the room; looking as though someone had tossed him there like a rag doll. He looked dazed and half-conscious, with a definitive mark on his forehead, cheek, and what he had for a nose that suggested he'd fallen right into the wall. The already discolored skin of his face was swollen from the impact, and almost seemed to glow a frail but hideous pink in the limited firelight.

His eyes opened blearily at her outcry, and peered up at her with eyes so lost and resentful that she instantly thought she might cry.

"Damned blankets…" he murmured as she came forward to crouch in front of him. "I just wanted the stupid chamber-"

Color rose in his cheeks, and Arabella quickly took his arms in her hands to help him sit up straight.

"Do you still need it?" she whispered as low as she dared. Erik's eyes narrowed, as though he couldn't quite understand why she'd be so delicate of his already decimated pride. Then, his eyes moved from her to the man looming in the doorway and set his jaw furiously.

"You brought him?" he demanded, all signs of bleariness gone from him in an instant as his voice rose with false strength and very real ire. "Why in the Hell-"

"The mademoiselle did not bring me." Nadir interrupted quickly. "I was lying in wait, my friend. It is not her fault I was suspicious of a very young and lovely girl wearing your clothing and using your boat."

Erik snapped something that Arabella missed completely – perhaps a Russian phrase he thought too vulgar to utter in a way either she or Nadir might understand.

"Erik…" Arabella murmured tenderly. "Do you still need to-"

"Does it smell like I don't?" he demanded.

"No…" she admitted. "Stop being so rude. We only wish to help you. There is no shame in needing to regain your strength."

"Why not?" He asked, slipping into her Romani tongue this time. Clearly he was trying to keep Nadir out of the conversation. "I deserve it, don't I? I put myself in this damned position!"

"I suppose you did. But there is still no shame in it." She said quietly, rising to her feet. After a brief look around, she noticed a chamber pot on the opposite side of the hearth. "If you need any help-"

"-God, no!" he denied vehemently. "Please… just take Nadir and get out of here! This is bad enough as it is!"

Nodding uncertainly, Arabella placed the vessel before him and then turned to usher Nadir from the room. Nadir backed out willingly enough, but he certainly looked concerned and baffled.

"Was he being … ungentlemanly to you?" he asked curiously as she closed the bedroom door and began to unpack the basket of food she'd brought home. She began shifting through the ingredients she would need for stew.

"You know him." She said with a wry smile. "Vulnerability is not a state he handles with grace."

Nadir's laughter came out sharp and shocked, but genuine.

"That is certainly true." He agreed. "Do you mind if I speak with him alone once he is finished in there?"

Arabella began to carry what she needed towards the large fireplace, planning to fetch knives and such from the kitchen next.

"That is up to him." She sighed. "But you should stay out of his reach. He will lash out at nearly anything just now, I think."

"And… he doesn't frighten you when he is like this?" Nadir sounded beyond amazed. It almost made Arabella laugh.

"Whatever fear I feel around Erik has nothing to do with him." She said confidently. "Erik would not harm me. You, on the other hand… He may not hurt you severely – you are his friend – but that doesn't mean he would not lash out at you. You are a man. He would think you fair game."

She could instantly tell that her knowledge of Erik was making Nadir more and more curious. It made her skin prickle uneasily to think his suspicions were only rising. There was nothing she could say to this man that wouldn't later seem like a lie if she tried to explain her relationship to Erik without telling the entire truth. Thus, she was grateful when he decided not to interrogate her further.

"Are you certain French is new to you? You speak French almost better than I do."

She blinked hard at the sudden change in topic.

"I… I do?"

"Almost."

She glanced over her shoulder before walking into the kitchen, and was shocked to see Nadir smiling, giving her a sly little wink of amusement. It made her acutely uncomfortable… This man did not even know her; but he was so quickly comfortable enough to tease her. Oh, she wasn't afraid of Nadir… but being teased by anyone other than Erik had usually made her fear what might come next. She had thought she could trust Nadir without thought; but she was apparently unable to instantly drop her guard. They were strangers still.

After a moment, she remembered that she was supposed to be preparing Erik something to eat… and hurried into the kitchen for the tools she would need. Maybe once they knew each other in equal measure, things could be different.