A/N. I hope you all don't hate me for this... but I couldn't leave this chapter alone. I lost SO MUCH after my first edit. FFnet lost it all on me and my repost was no different than the first. I was just so upset that I wasn't thinking clearly and repsted the schlock of my pre-edit. Here is my attempt to return it to the glory I felt my final edit was.
Arabella was surprised after the bedroom door closed quietly behind her. There was no suspicious tension in the room from unansolved mysteries. Nadir did not seem to be ready to leap on her with fresh questions. He seemed, instead, to be far more quietly curious. After cleaning out the chamber pot, his eyes were on where she stood over the stew, which was finally beginning to heat over the fire in the hearth. They were on her... and they didn't move... but he was silent.
She decided to concentrate on the meal in order to keep from becoming nervous under his curious stare. She was making far more stew than necessary, honestly. It would take nearly all day for it to cook properly, which meant Erik would likely have to drink a great deal more sugared milk… if he wasn't kept completely senseless from the spiked cup he'd only recently ingested.
The thought she'd been so bold as to give him that laudnum was a good distraction. Erik had spent months trying to wean himself off of the habit that had never been a particularly strong addiction but merely an emotional and mental crutch. The night Christine had carried the package to him from her accidental meeting with Bernard had been one of the last times he ever touched the chemical. He'd been so ashamed to be caught guilty of such a vice. And, the further he'd spiraled into his terrible darkness, the more he'd craved keeping his mind as clear as possible.
After stirring the stew for the few distracting minutes it took to ignore how uncomfortable Nadir's relatively innocent stare could be, she turned to Erik's room where his coffin-bed and organ were. Erik had told her where to find cloth for a dicklo, so now would be the best time to get some. Maybe she could even use some of the same cloth to make a vest (while further avoiding Nadir's silent inquisition) to put over her worn blouse. The fact that the shirts' modest cut hadn't kept it from being just as revealing as the red dress hadn't passed her notice. It was worn almost to the point of opacity after all – and she had no undergarments to wear beneath it.
She was digging through the chest Erik had told her about when she heard Nadirs' quiet breathing behind her. Of course he was curious about what she was up to, and had followed her. Being alone was not going to be an option while he remained in the house, apparently. But now he'd caught sight of the disaster Erik had left of his room; and the shock had made him catch his breath in a noticable gasp. First; there were the ruins of Erik's music, scattered everywhere so that it could never be recognizable to even the most discerning of eyes. Then there was the bench usually tucked up against the organ... the canopy that had been set up over his coffin bed... and the black candles with candelabra's surrounding them. All had been smashed, ripped, and obliterated to greater or lesser degree.
It looked as though a terrible storm had gone through and left nothing but chaos in its wake.
"What happened?" he breathed, his voice unsteady as he realized what his friend must have suffered even after their cup of tea during Christine and Raoul's escape.
Arabella's searching hands came to a sudden halt within the chest. Her lips parted to answer, but the cloth she'd uncovered had swept her response away. It temporarily scattered her mind; just as the debris of Erik's rage was scattered... For a long moment, it was as if Nadir wasn't even there.
Slowly, one hand moved to finish pushing aside a folded square of tan leather to further reveal what she'd seen. Erik had been collecting things from his adventures around the world for years; so she'd always known about this trunk… but she hadn't really thought about its' contents before. Slowly, however, she pulled out a large piece of plumb purple satin that unfolded in her seeking hands to reveal it was really a dress shirt.
Arabella felt light-headed as she stared at the startling reminder of their wedding day. Her grandmother had been quite sneaky – as had Erik. They had gone behind her back to make certain Erik could wear a color matching the dress she was wearing for the ceremony. It had been mostly hidden through most of the ceremony under his dark blue tuxedo… but… the effort had been there. Arabella had never realized in all these years that Erik had kept it. She probably shouldn't have been surprised. Honestly, she ought to have noticed long before this. Erik had left the gypsy camp with such a tiny collection of belongings. How could she have missed such an obvious object of sentimentality?
He'd kept it... even after all these years.. Maybe he didn't even remember that he had it anymore... But at some point, he'd undoubtedly come across it without her noticing; and not tossed it to the side.
"What is wrong?" Nadir asked; apparently having noticed her astonishment. The question brought Arabella back into the present a little; and resentment at having such a shocking moment interrupted swelled briefly in her. It was becoming truly startling, just how easily annoyance swam to the surface of her mind.
Nadir carefully picked his way across the disaster Erik had left in his grieving wake, and looked down at the material in her hand.
"What is that?"
Arabella shook her head abruptly ad folded the shirt to return it to its' hiding place.
"It's nothing. Just something I didn't expect."
"A shirt…? How is that unexpected in a storage chest!" Nadir sounded genuinely amused now, and Arabella rolled her eyes.
She grabbed for a different cloth – something innocuous but thick enough to keep her head warm in this oftentimes cold house. What she found was simply a navy blue yard of wool. Then, she hid Erik's bridal shirt under the many items that had been covering it. She didn't even know what kind of vanity had driven her to search through his things in the first place. All she'd needed was a plain piece of cloth. What did it really serve to discover a piece of Erik's past only she could connect to a memory? He could have entirely forgotten about its' existence in there over the years.
It wasn't worth dwelling over - although it was nice to know.
She barely even gave Nadir a glance as she began a search for where Erik had stowed away his small sewing kit – rarely used now; since he liked to have so many brand-new and expensive things.
"So… what happened here?" Nadir repeated; once more reminding her of his constant presence.
I wonder if Erik would have been annoyed if he'd been able to feel my presence all these years... He doesn't mean any harm. Let go of your discomfort, woman!
"Erik happened." She replied finally. "That's all. Erik… briefly lost his mind and decided to take his anger out on his own belongings. I'll clean this all up before he ever gets better and has to see it. He doesn't need such blatant reminders of his own misery."
She finished making her dicklo quite quickly. It was far easier than making the dress that had been the exact same material as Erik's wedding shirt. It took mere moments longer to stow the sewing kit back in its proper place, and then she was covering her hair in the cloth, and beginning to gather the shreds of paper scattered all over the entire room. As though he'd been asked, Nadir wasted no more time in watching her; and instead decided to occupy himself with picking up the shattered bench and candles. He searched so carefully that she finally realized he was seeking out slivers of glass from a broken tumbler. He'd found the majority of it under Erik's organ, wedged between two of its' pedals by the force of Erik's now rather long-ago rage.
"Thank you…" she offered slowly once the room had been halfway straightened. "I think that will do for now. I need to check on the stew."
Again, Nadir followed her.
"Do you think I'm going to steal something?" she challenged after tasting the stew and stirring it thoroughly. Apparently, it wasn't quite so easy to simply discard the annoyance Nadir was causing in her. It was actually rather funny; considering how often she had expected she and Nadir could make marvelous friends. Then again... this wasn't the building of a friendship. This was the stalling of getting to know each other honestly.
"No, mademoiselle." He assured quickly. "I'm trying to take your proper measure."
"That would be easier done with a tailors' kit." She replied – startling herself with the sudden wittiness of her comment. Listening to Erik for so many years had apparently rubbed off on her. As it was, Nadir offered a very nasal chuckle that was more air than sound. "You don't need to follow me like a lost dog."
"I am trying to figure out exactly how you know so much about Erik and his house." The Daroga explained. "I have only stepped foot in his home once before today; and I have known him better than anyone in his entire life."
He was wrong… so wrong. But Arabella couldn't think of how to explain that to him without lying. She gnawed worryingly at her lower lip as she cleaned the parlor. She was aware of Nadir following her with his gaze; insatiably curious in spite of his barely restrained questions.
"You should go home." She offered abruptly. "Erik will be sleeping for hours. It will take him a few days before he can be up on his feet again. The less you are here during that time... the better behaved he'll be likely to act when you reunite."
"Is there anything I can bring for either of you?" Nadir offered.
"Why would you want to bring me anything?"
Arabella's body froze as the question passed her lips. She could scarcely believe such a suspicious nature still existed in her. Especially since she was asking the mostly honorable Daroga of Mazandaran… her husbands' closest confidant! There wasn't even a slight reason for her to react so cautiously to one of his offers! But the words slipped out even as the ill-ease filled her.
And yet, you would crawl into Erik's arms this very moment if he beckoned you... right in that bed. He's a genuine and unashamed murderer; but you'd do that rather than answer a question. How ridiculous can you be?
"You are nursing my friend back to health." Nadir replied, his voice cautious because of her sudden rigidness. His eyes, as she forced herself to turn to him, showed nothing but gentle honesty and a tepid warmth. It would have been difficult for him to truly like her after all her reticence, and after such a short acquaintance. But he seemed to be tempted to like her. "He clearly trusts you – and you so clearly… care… for him. Why shouldn't I make such an offer? At least if I can bring you anything, you won't have to leave him alone. You were obviously uncomfortable being away from him when we first met."
Slowly, Arabella forced herself to take in a very deep breath, and nodded.
"I understand." She conceded. "Thank you, but… I think I have gotten everything we need for now."
"Are you certain?"
Arabella's brow furrowed and she stared at Nadir in confusion. She didn't understand why he pressed the issue so hard. Had she done something to hint they were lacking? Her eyes briefly scanned the room, knowing he hadn't gone into the kitchen at any time. He had no way of knowing how lacking the pantry still was - although she could deal with the food she'd gotten that morning until Erik was better.
"Certain? No…" she admitted reluctantly. "But I'm fairly sure. We'll survive a few days, at the very least."
"All right." Nadir nodded simple acceptance. "Tell Erik I will be visiting again soon to harass him once more."
"Yes… yes I will." She promised. "Thank you."
"Do you need to go with me, so you can bring the boat back?"
"No." she shook her head and quickly turned away. She recalled that Erik had bid Nadir remain inside while he retrieved the boat from the other side of the lake after Raoul and Christine's escape. "I know how to get it back when we need it."
"Oh…" Nadir looked a touch skeptical; but didn't bother to argue. "Very well then… It was a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Arabella."
She nodded briefly, watching as he turned and reluctantly left the house on his own. It took every fiber of self-control she'd acquired over the years to keep from telling him to please stop calling her that insolent form of address. She hoped that by the next time they met, she would be able to tell Nadir at least more of the truth about her past with Erik.
For nearly an hour, Arabella idly dusted and cleaned different areas of Erik's home – most of which had been left unscathed by the disastrous fallout of Christine's abandonment. Between tasks she would stir up the pot of soup she was carefully cooking, and make adjustments as she thought necessary. She was afraid to make it too flavorful; lest it upset Erik's empty stomach… but she didn't wish to feed him anything unappetizingly bland, either.
Once the cleaning was done, there was virtually nothing to do… and she found herself returning as silently as possible to the bedroom where her husband slept. She lowered herself into the chair Nadir had dragged closer to the bed during his visit, and simply watched him. His terribly twisted face looked so close to normal when he slept – bereft as it was of anything but peace. She wondered if he had so much as inkling of how old he looked while awake. The world had been so unkind to him that he rarely so much as opened his eyes before the weight of his woes twisted him in some way or another. But when he slept she could all but see the boy she'd fallen in love with… the one who'd been so incredibly and painfully gentle with her. That softness of a boy who was bruised and beaten but not yet broken returned only when he slept… and she wondered if her return would ever be enough to bring back that gentleness within him.
Or had time eradicated it?
Remaining with Erik because she could see where he'd come from and how he'd gotten to this pathetic near-end had been easy. It had only been easy, though, because she'd been partially removed from it. She hadn't needed to suffer the consequences of his change in demeanor. If she were to assume that absolutely not one iota of his life would have been changed by her survival… could she have survived with him for so many years? Could she have been cool-headed enough to understand him, and remain by his side through all the times he might inadvertently cause her pain? Everyone caused others pain – even those they loved. It was a simple fact of being human she hadn't been able to truly grasp until she had been dead for many years… and seen Christine do the things she'd done to Erik… and vice versa.
He wouldn't have become what he did. Not if I'd been there. She denied – an argument she was very familiar with from the intervening years. He wouldn't have been so desperate to drown his horror in the opium and hashish. He wouldn't have allowed himself to become the Angel of Doom in Persia. He wouldn't have suffered through loving Christine at all!
Those things were probably all true… Had she remained alive, it was quite likely he would never have amassed the not inconsiderable fame he had throughout Europe. Nadir may or may not have come seeking an audience to fetch him for the Shah… By that point in Erik's life, it was possible that they would have been quite the pair… Would a married freak have been as appealing to the Khanum? Would it have even slowed her down in her wretchedly twisted avarice and desire for what Erik had and refused to give over? Could Arabella, herself, have slowed him down once he'd been given his first taste of cold-blooded, indefensible murder?
She didn't know. But she could recall recognizing – before she ever died – the shadow of darkness that lay mostly dormant in her husband. If it hadn't been for Persia, she didn't know how much of that inner demon would have ever been released.
But, as it was, Arabella had died. Erik had gone to Persia and become the Angel of Doom. He had become more wretchedly twisted with every day he spent there… and the demon had never more than hibernated ever since. He'd grown bitter and spiteful and… honestly… a little bit insane.
How was it that the concept of being in Erik's presence didn't make her shudder in horror? Not at his face, of course. His face hadn't bothered her for more than a few days. But how could she stand so steadfastly at his side and love him in spite of the violent and dark creature he'd become? How could she be willingly to constantly make excuse after excuse for him; even though some of his actions had been inexcusable?
How could the prospect excite her as it did? Was there something wrong with her; that she felt a thrill with the knowledge that all Erik's often violent passion was now within her reach?
Because… he is Erik… her mind whispered simply. He would never harm me.
He'd changed in the last few days of his…'courtship'… of Christine. But he'd still never directly harmed the girl he loved – even in his darkest and most dangerous moments. Yes… the chandelier had undoubtedly killed many people… or at least hurt them severely. Some of them had probably even been women… But Erik hadn't been anywhere even close to in his right mind that day. He was a lot better now, even if he wasn't completely healed.
It was a lapse… That's all… Just a lapse in his ability to think and act rationally…
Still making excuses for him? What if it happens again?
Arabella jolted, her eyes going huge. That … that last thought hadn't been her voice. It was a voice she knew fairly well… but it hadn't been her own. For a long moment she could barely even breathe… and then suddenly she was nearly panting in the chill that overtook her entire body. That voice had not been heard since before her death… a voice she knew damned well belonged to a dead man.
You couldn't contact Erik while you were dead. She reminded herself quickly. The dead can't reach you. They can't hurt you. It was your imagination. These are your doubts. Own them! They don't make you love Erik any less!
For a moment it seemed like something responded to her thoughts… but it was so insubstantial this time that it really did seem to be her imagination. Now it was more than her skin that was cold. It felt as though tiny ice flecks ran through her blood. The tiniest of sounds escaped her astonished and frightened lips before she could force herself to settle comfortably back into the chair where she'd been perching.
Erik stirred on the bed, his head shifting in her direction and his eyes cracking blearily open. She cursed inwardly, reminding herself that Erik always had had a high tolerance for drugs. If she had wanted to help him sleep, she probably should have given him a higher dose of laudanum. But she hadn't been trying to outright drug him… just assist his sleep. It was no wonder the tiniest shift in atmosphere – especially one that brought fear into the room – should wake him up.
"What is it?" he murmured, not sounding particularly alarmed. He wasn't even trying to shift his gaze around the room in search of whatever had alarmed her.
Still stunned by that invading thought in her mind, Arabella stared at him mutely until his eyes closed again, and he settled back into restful sleep.
I have nothing to fear from Erik… she thought determinedly, although even her mental voice shook. Not really. I'd be a fool not to recognize the changes in him and keep them in mind… but keeping it in mind doesn't make him a danger to me. It makes him capable of being a danger, should he lose himself again… yes… but not an actual outright danger… I am not going to fear Erik. I will not be made to fear my own husband!
A/N: Thank you for putting up with my comparatively small edits.
I've already said this; but a reminder may be necessary from time-to-time. This is not my only project, and I have been struggling with a flat-out working plot. Please don't be mad if it is quite awhile before the next chapter - now and for future chapters. I want to give you all quality, not just nonesense. I'm sure slow writing with cause some continuity errors and such... but little such mistakes aren't what I'm concerned about.