Arabella tried to ignore the shivers wracking her body. She was focusing as hard as she could only on the fact that Erik was holding her, and that he had called her 'my love'. It was so much easier to think about than how she'd completely botched their evening and her silly, romantic, and ever-so-slightly alluring game. Her muscles ached terribly as they trembled from the cold; but she was bolstered by his affectionate words… and hope that she was usually so cautious about flared in her.
They were suddenly enveloped by air just warm enough for it to make a severely distinct difference between the outside and whatever building Erik had carried her into. She opened her eyes and looked about dazedly, expecting perhaps they were in the Opera through a back secret door… or maybe a hotel if Erik had been in too much of a rush to get her warm. She honestly wasn't completely aware of just how much danger her life had so recently been in. She just knew that she was cold, that it was dark out, and that something had wakened Erik's old affection for her enough so that he had called her something absolutely beautiful.
There was a desk near the door; but towards the back of the strangely lit room sat a group of men in dark uniforms. They were at a table playing cards and drinking tea. At least… she assumed it was tea. She felt Erik go tense with his arms under her, as he stood in the door and stared at the group of professionally attired men as two of them stood up to see what was happening.
"What do you need?" one of the standing men demanded, his eyes locked onto Erik's masked face. The other man was paying more attention to Arabella. Even in her state, she felt his eyes boring into her curiously.
"This is not a hospital." The man looking at Arabella stated quickly. "You should move on to-"
"-She is freezing!" Erik interrupted, taking a step forward. Arabella wound her arms up around his shoulders, although her arms were weak and stiff. It had been difficult removing them from the articles of clothing Erik had wrapped around them back at the grotto. She could feel the hesitation in his actions as she realized that the men in dark uniforms were police officers. She, herself, did not care for the police, although she couldn't quite remember why. Whatever caused her personal dislike, though, it could be nothing to Erik's aversion. What had driven him into facing men in a place where he could be imprisoned? "Please, messieurs! The hospital is too far! Let me get her warm!"
Erik was not doing so well, himself. Arabella was able to feel how his body shivered. She could hear it in the quavering of his voice and the chattering of his teeth.
"Come in." the man that had been looking more closely at Erik raised a hand and motioned towards them in invitation. "Bring her here to the couch. Jacques, find warm blankets. Martin, fire up the stove again. We'll bring the couch closer to it."
The men still sitting around their little card table rose instantly and began working cooperatively to get it out of the way, even as Erik carried Arabella in a rush towards the stove. Arabella looked slowly between the faces of each man; uncomfortably aware that they were all staring at Erik's mask. Still, as the couch – a ratty old piece of furniture that had seen much better and much worse than her soaking body – was dragged nearer the warmth of the stove, one of the officers carried a half-filled cup of tea over to the stove and lifted a kettle from it to pour fresh hot tea before offering it in her direction.
As Erik placed her on the couch, her hands slid down his body briefly and it drew attention to how soggy he was.
"You are… you're freezing, too!" she exclaimed. At least, she would have, if her voice hadn't come out such a weak slur. She licked anxiously at her painfully chapped lips. "I don't remember… you didn't fall in, too, did you?"
"Shh." Erik sat on the extreme edge of the couch, completely stiff and trying to ignore the men staring at him. He took the offered tea from the one officer and reached down to lift her head gently towards its' steaming rim. "Drink this… It will make you feel better."
His voice sounded off, she realized, her eyes widening slightly. She looked up at him over the blissfully warm cup of tea. As he gently tipped some of its contents into her mouth, she tasted that the added hot liquid hadn't made the tea scalding. It had only warmed it to a endurable warmth.
"What else does she need?" the officer who had been giving orders asked as Erik gently settled her head back onto the arm of the couch and rose so that the officer who'd been sent to fetch blankets could help him cover her.
"You should take those wet things off of her." The man recommended.
"No." Erik said instantly. "No, keep everything on her."
He glanced at the officer who was clearly in charge of this little group.
"She needs a … a dress…"
The reaction to this is a brief and intensely uncomfortable silence. Erik sats beside her again, reaching out to smooth back her wet hair.
"Go." The commander said simply to the man who'd just brought in the blankets. "Find something for the gentleman as well." Then he returned his attention to Erik.
Even as she reveled in the fresh warmth of the tea and the blankets and the stove, Arabella could tell these men had instantly gone into a cautionary frame of mind. She frowned, trying to understand. But then she remembered the mask… even though it hardly seemed like enough motive for their instant wariness.
"What happened, Monsieur?"
"It was an accident." Erik said instantly, obviously having prepared for the question. "We were foolishly playing about in the Bois de Vincennes. She fell through the ice…"
"What on Earth was she doing out on the lake?" one of the – until that very moment – quiet officers demanded.
"He was chasing me…" Arabella whispered, feeling herself blush hotly. "It was just a game - stupid game!"
"Monsieur… may I speak with you over here?" the man in charge asked – although it was clearly more of a command than a polite request. "Here. Have a hot cup of tea. We'll give you a blanket, and you can sit on this side of the stove."
"I did nothing wrong!" Erik defended himself, his voice raising half an octave in distress. "She is my wife!"
Arabella thought her heart had stopped in its' chest for a moment. She stared in utter shock at Erik, barely able to control her shock and awe at his words. She had heard them earlier, but not been entirely certain she was not hallucinating.
"It was just a silly game that we should have thought better about playing!"
"I should say so." The commander agreed drolly. "Come, sit. Get yourself warm."
Erik placed a hand briefly on Arabella's shoulder. Her heartbeat thrummed anxiously in her chest as she watched him rise like a man condemned to obey the 'suggestion'. He lowered himself into the offered chair and pulled the offered blanket about his shoulders. This much he did with obvious relief, the cold having clearly gotten to him. But he and Arabella both wearily eye the men that are trying to very casually step in between them as the commander crouches by Erik and begins speaking to him in a low voice not quite soft enough to keep the conversation private.
"What is your name, Monsieur?"
"My… Erik. It is Erik… Sauveterre…"
"And where do you live, Monsieur?"
"I… we… that is… we are between residences." Erik tried to think up a fast lie, and Arabella had to struggle to pay attention to his every word. He was doing a much better job at keeping his voice low than the officer. That and she was exhausted. She could barely keep her eyes open – even though she was now growing quite comfortably warm. One of the officers was watching her closely, holding the cup of tea Erik had been giving her just in case she asked for it. "We are currently visiting Paris… trying to agree on a place to live. I am … retired… and my wife she…"
Erik shrugs as though he is too exhausted to go into great detail.
"Do you have your identification papers?" the commander asked quietly. Arabella could recognize his neutral tone.
"No. I mean yes. I mean…" Erik lifted a hand as though to rub at his temples, but his mask was in the way. "I had them on me. I took most of my outerwear off to make getting my wife out of the water easier. I knew she would need something warm and dry. But they… they were lost. I was foolish with them by the ice."
This, of course, is a lie. Erik did not carry his papers with him. Arabella didn't even know for certain if Erik had papers with the name Sauveterre on them.
She was distracted by the conversation as the officer with her cup of tea knelt beside the couch. She drew away from him instantly, not liking his closeness. She knew police officers were mostly decent people. But… she had always shied away from police – even before tonight when she was so closely acquainted with a wanted criminal. She prayed to God that these men did not know of The Phantom of the Opera.
"What is your name, Madame?" the gentleman asked gently.
"Ara-Arabella…" she replied uneasily.
"Arabella what; Madame?"
"Arabella Sauveterre… Please… I fell through the ice by the Temple of Love… by the grotto… My husband pulled me out…"
Her voice was still slightly slurred. Arabella felt a moment of panic from so much stress. She had to be so careful! One wrong word or move, and these men might rip Erik away from her!
"Erik!" She raised her voice, and heard the instant response from across the width of the stove as Erik rose from his seat and it scraped across the floor. He stepped over to her, still wrapped in his blanket, and reached out to seize the officer close to her by the shoulder. She actually saw the moment when he restrained himself, and simply tried to press his body between them.
"Monsieur…" He entreated. "You should not be so close to my wife! She is not properly dressed!"
"I will call a doctor for your wife." The man said apologetically.
"No – no doctors!" Arabella pleaded, forcing herself into a sitting position so that Erik turned his full attention to her. He again sat on the couch – this time close to her side. He put a comforting arm about her shoulders.
"The officers only wish to help us, Bella." He promised in a low voice.
In that moment, the man who'd been sent out again for clothes returned carrying a pile of them in his arms.
"This is all I could find." He sighed, offering them to Erik. "They won't fit properly, but they are clothes and they are dry and warm."
"Thank you, Monsieur." Erik said with genuine gratitude. "Ma Belle… do you need…"
His eyes moved quickly about the room, realizing he didn't know where to take her to get changed. He certainly wasn't about to let these men see her undressed – or let them see him.
"You may use the holding cell." The commander suggested, moving over to the front desk to pick up a key and toss it to him. He saw Erik's eyes behind the mask – which had gone wide. His pupils had dilated in almost instant panic. "I'm sorry, but it's all we have."
"All right." Erik sighed heavily, turning back to help Arabella to her feet. "Ma Belle? Can you-"
"-Before I allow you to go there together… Madame… this gentleman is your husband?"
Arabella stood slowly with Erik's help.
"Yes, Monsieur." She said clearly, her voice almost hard in its decisiveness. But to keep talking, she had to think for a moment that she felt took much too long. "Our marriage is new… but he is my husband."
The commander nodded curtly.
"Do you want me to carry you?" Erik offered. But she could tell he was not very keen on the idea. No doubt he was in enormous pain from already having carried her God-alone knew how far.
"No…" she murmured, although her legs were starting to almost burn as the feeling returned to them. Her fingers and toes ached, her elbows throbbed.
"We will send for a doctor." The commander offered again as Erik very slowly escorted Arabella towards the nearest holding cell.
"No."
Arabella and Erik glanced briefly at each other, both amused that they'd spoken simultaneously.
"My wife and I will be able to care for each other well enough once we are warm." Erik continued. "Thank you."
Erik gently pressed his hand to the small of Arabella's back, making her walk first into the holding cell. For a long moment he stood in the doorway, looking at her in the cramped space that was no more than 3 meters squared – and probably not even that. There was a window set up high in the wall so tiny that even a toddler could not worm its' way out… and a hard looking wooden cot attached to the wall. But the brick walls and tile flooring were all clean. It was a bleak room, but not dreary. It was just the idea of shutting himself in a cell – even voluntarily with full control over the locks – that had him instantly on edge.
"I can wait for you outside…" he offered uncertainly, stalling a moment to try and gather what reserves of his courage he had left - after forcing himself into the presence of multiple police officials.
"No… I think I need your help." Arabella admitted, blushing and looking away from him slightly. "My hands… they are too stiff. I don't think I could manage any stays or laces…"
"My fingers are likely to be just as stubborn." He admitted, frowning and finally stepping into the tiny space. He could not think of how they were going to change without bumping into each other – or without looking at…
He shook his head briefly to get rid of that burgeoning thought. He certainly did not want Arabella to see him unclothed – and imagined that her discomfort must have been even greater. After all, he was merely ugly as sin. She… she had been through far worse in her relatively much shorter life.
Arabella was slipping off the blankets and fur coat, revealing the camisole and pantalets that were still soaked through to the point of opacity. Erik sucked in a sharp breath and whipped around sharply enough to nearly smack his head into the nearest brick corner. He put his forehead against the cool wall, pressing his palms there as well to keep them from curling into animalistic claws.
Damn this body. He thought bitterly. It always picks the most inopportune moments to misbehave!
"Aren't you going to get changed?" Arabella asked quietly after just a few moments. "If you wait for me to peel these things off, you'll only get colder."
"Please don't put images like that into my head." He groaned. "You're quite siren enough without doing that!"
He was slightly startled by Arabella's low chuckle – having expected her to recoil and chastise him for his moment of indecent honesty. Heat suffused his face beneath the mask. Soon sweat would start beading on his forehead if he didn't get himself under control. Considering the anxiety and exhaustion of the evening, he was not as quick to leash his body's impulses as usual. This was not the first time since Arabella's return he'd had an indecent thought… but it was certainly the first time he'd had such a good reason for it. If you could call this situation a good reason…
"Erik… you can get changed." She pressed after a moment. "I won't look. I promise."
"I am more concerned with your modesty." He admitted.
"Erik… it's all right." She told him quietly. "I… I don't mind if you see me."
"Since when?" he challenged – more angry at his own mind and body because of how tempting they found her simple admission. "You used to shy into a corner or under a blanket the moment I came into the tent."
"That was thirty years ago." She pointed out. "I was younger… closer to the reasons I was so shy. I think I can handle you simply seeing me. It isn't your fault there is nowhere else to-"
"-I should have taken a different holding cell."
"I'm glad you didn't." she admitted. "I can't imagine either one of us having to be alone in one of these… things…"
After another long moment, Erik took a deep breath and finally forced his mind and body to behave. The very last thing he wanted was for Arabella to see how obnoxiously affected he could sometimes be by mere ideas or flashes of... He thought it was despicable how easy it sometimes was… He turned; cracking one eye open to see that she had dropped her wet underthings onto the floor and had just finished struggling into the dry ones. She was already stepping into the oversized dress that was built for a stouter woman with much longer legs, and covering up quickly enough where he wasn't quite so ashamed of seeing her in that state. At least these clothes were completely dry, and thus he could not see through any of them.
"Let me fix up your laces." He offered through a voice that had become thick and unattractively nasally.
"You're getting sick!" she realized, turning toward him in her rather obscenely dangling dress. He could read the alarm and regret on her face and in her wide eyes as she reached up towards him. "I'm so sorry!"
"Nonsense..." He chided, catching the hand that sought his masked face with his own palm and gently curling it away from him. "You didn't fall through the ice on purpose, and I certainly didn't have to take off so many pieces of clothing. This isn't your fault."
He took her shoulders in firm but tender hands, and turned her around so he could tighten the stays on the back of her dress. The last thing he needed was to see her traipsing about in clothes that could fall off of her at any moment. Still, he moved slowly so he could drop his voice and use his ventriloquists' skills to send it directly into her ear.
"When we return to the other room, please let me do the talking." He murmured. "They are … going to want some way to prove our identities. I have already claimed we are not living in Paris. But they will want an address. I will have to tell them that we are staying with Nadir, on the Rue de Rivoli. The Daroga will be furious with me; but I have no other feasible options. The only other people in this city who have ever known me … I don't know where they are. Charles Garnier is in Italy now…"
Arabella nodded, her loose wet hair brushing the back of his hands as he tried to finish the stays and then get the buttons near her collar. The dress was still going to be ridiculously loose, and she would have to be careful not to trip on the hem of the skirt. But it was dry and warm. She could always put the fur coat on again.
"Bella… if I cannot give them satisfactory answers…"
She looked at him sharply over one shoulder, her eyes wide.
"Please tell me you are not going to be arrested!" she breathed – her voice dropping low simply so that she doesn't give into nearly hysterical screaming. "You've done nothing wrong!"
"Bella… if any of them have heard of The Phantom… if they know how that gossiping scene shifter Joseph Buquet described me… They are already suspicious that I wear a mask. Their first thought was that I had kidnapped you – or that I was a rapist."
"But… but you brought me to them!"
"It is the harsh world we live in, Bella." He explained wearily.
"They cannot possibly-"
"-Will you let me get us out of this situation, Arabella?" he demanded. "Do you trust me?"
She turned to face him completely, her face pale and her eyes solemn.
"Yes…" she managed to wheeze out. "Yes, I trust you."
It was probably the most moving thing anyone had ever said to him, and Erik swallowed the phlegmy lump in his throat that blossoming sickness had already created on its own.
"Then let me do the talking." He insisted again, waiting for her to nod. "Now… if you would be so kind… I need to change, too."
They carefully switched position, and Arabella stood leaning heavily against the locked door of the cell. Erik felt instantly nauseous, not wishing to be so deep into even this tiny space. He felt claustrophobic, and his chest tightened around his already straining heart. It was difficult to breathe. His mind just kept screaming to get him out – get him out before it was too late. All indecent thoughts about the barely dressed woman sharing the space with him were already long obliterated from his memory. He was in a locked prison cell… and it felt as though some sentence had already been passed on him.
"You told them I was your wife."
Arabella's low murmur snapped him out of his darkening and swirling thoughts as he quickly exchanged his soggy but elegant suit for the rougher working mans' suit. It was built for a shorter gentleman, and one not so lanky. But it would do. The socks were long enough to keep his calves warm, and the shoes would still barely accommodate his feet. The arms were not long enough, but the shoulders were wide and that gave him just enough extra fabric to force down onto his arms so that he could keep the wind outside off of him.
"I had to tell them something." He offered lamely. "A man carrying a barely dressed woman that is soaking wet… would have be positively indecent under any other circumstances. Now, please tell me… do you know the geography of Spain? Where could you and I claim to have been living?"
"Valencia." Arabella's response came so fast, that he understood this must be a town or city she knew well. He had never returned to Spain after her death except perhaps to pass directly through it as fast as possible. He had to trust she knew the country better than he did.
"Good. Then that is where we met and married." He stated decisively. By this point he was in his own 'new' clothing and trying to force enough of his oversized shirt into the waist band of his trousers to make them stay up. Even with bracers, it was going to be a trial to walk without tripping himself up.
He made sure they were both properly covered before opening the cell door, the keys dangling from his long fingers. He did not like having to be seen without so much as gloves on. His hideous hands – although they were virtually normal compared to his face – were all too visible. It spoke volumes of what must be hiding beneath his mask.
All five of the officers were in the room again, all of them turning as if one being in order to watch their approach. It made him hesitate briefly, and he felt Arabella follow his lead even in this. She hesitated at his side, sliding so close to him that his arm brushed her shoulder. With a deep breath he stepped forward, holding the keys out to the commanding officer. When he did this, the group of men relaxed slightly, as though knowing they were safe from… something. Maybe they'd been whispering about him and suspected he'd overheard them. Maybe they were just nervous men – and men like that never should be in law enforcement!
"Come, sit by the stove again, Madame Sauveterre." One of the officers offered, motioning to the seat that had earlier been given to Erik. "I am brewing a completely fresh pot of tea."
"I just want to go home." She objected softly, looking up to Erik for some cue. "Well… to the place we're staying, anyway…"
"Soon enough, Madame." The man insisted. "Come, sit. Let us speak privately with your hus-"
"-I am not leaving my wife alone." Erik interrupted almost icily, briefly forgetting that he was supposed to be attempting civility. He cleared his throat to distract from his slip in tone. "Forgive me… but I almost lost her tonight. You cannot ask me to leave her alone for one moment until I am satisfied that she is in no further danger."
"She certainly isn't in danger from us." The commanding officer stated.
"That is debatable." Arabella muttered, ducking her head when she realized her inability to keep her voice as low as Erik's. Color suffused her face.
"Please." Erik said quickly, to distract from her minor slip. "You may ask me anything you wish to right here. My wife and I are hiding nothing."
"Very well." The commander sighed in resignation. "Please take off your mask, Monsieur."
Erik's body went rigid as iron, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He had known this might be coming… he had just thought he might have a bit longer to prepare for it. His immediate instinct was to lash out at the officers with his fists, to throw a piece of furniture between them and run. But Arabella was in no state to run! He certainly couldn't leave her behind! And if he did run – with or without Arabella – it would soon have every single officer in Paris after him. He would never escape the city or make it back to the Opera House.
"I beg your indulgence in this…" he began through gritted teeth. "My face is nothing but a ruin. It … suffered a terrible maiming. No one should ever have to look at it."
He could see Arabella trying to rise to her feet, her face pale with two hot spots of bright red high up on either cheek. He could see the rage in her caramel eyes and forced one fist to relax into an imperious flat axe that cut across the air in one short slash. It was an absolutely authoritative command that she sit back down. She did not listen to him in that, but did obey otherwise by not speaking. She did not sit… but she also did not speak, and he turned his attention back to the commander of the small group.
He was the one out on the thin ice now. If he wasn't extremely careful… he and his gypsy princess could end up back in that holding cell – this time involuntarily.
"I apologize that this is an inconvenience." The man said rather sincerely. "But we need your names, your address, your papers; and we must file a descriptive report."
"I told you that I lost my papers while rescuing my wife. I also already told you that we are between residences at this moment!" Erik insisted.
"Well… is there no one in Paris who can vouch for you?"
"Perhaps…" Erik pretended to think. "I was a contractor under Garnier during the construction of the Opera House. I am sure some of the men under me are still around. Someone in the building authority might know of me."
"Do you have names?"
"For any of them? No. I have long since forgotten. I left the country after the premiere of the building, and only recently returned."
"Well hunting them down could take days, or longer." The commander sighed heavily. "If you do not wish to be held here –"
"-Held here?" Arabella had finally lost her temper and strode back over to Erik, threading her arm around his. "What is the matter with you people? My husband saved my life! He did not commit a crime!"
"This is a mere formality that must be addressed, Madame Sauveterre." A secondary officer tried to explain calmly.
"Your system is ridiculous." She told him acidly. "My husband saves my life, and you interrogate him like a villain!"
"No one is interrogating him." The commander broke in, as Erik put a hand over her small one as it gripped the inside of his elbow. He squeezed tightly, but carefully. He was trying desperately to calm her down. How very like her to stand up and fight for him… "We simply need to formally identify you."
"Can we not simply come back once we've replaced the proper paperwork?" Arabella nearly whined, and Erik realized with a vicious start that she was… faking. She was exhausted and in pain – mentally as well as physically, no doubt. But she was most certainly faking her outrage and fatigue. It was amazing she was doing such a fine job at it, considering they had already both agreed she was no actress. But these men did not know her, and she still had enough of a Spanish accent so that it would help in confusing how these men read her.
"Oh, if only we had a coin for every time someone promised they would do that." one of the officers laughed.
"Jacques…" the commanding officer warned him. "Monsieur, please. Make this fast and easy on all of us. Take off the mask."
"No." Erik denied again. "It would be undignified. Not only to me – who it will humiliate. But it will be undignified once you've seen what I look like and scream like a group of silly, hysterical school girls.
He reminded himself not to lose his temper. He must not lose his temper ad try to hurt any of these men. He had to get out of this situation before it boiled out of control. He had to get Arabella to safety.
The men grumbled for a moment, before their commander glared at them once again.
"I can offer a solution…" he finally managed. "Earlier, you mentioned a flat on the Rue de Rivoli."
"Yes." Erik pounced on this, having momentarily forgotten the earlier interrogation. At least, he'd forgotten that particular detail. Arabella's distress had thrown his entire plan out of focus for a moment. "We are staying there with a friend of mine from travels during my youth. A former Police Chief of the Persian government named Nadir Khan."
"Very well then. Allow me to give you a ride there in one of our police carriages – a discreet one that is entirely black so that no one will have much to gossip about when you arrive. If your friend confirms your identities, I will leave you there and we can go our separate ways."
The unspoken threat, of course, was that if Nadir did not play along… he and Arabella would be brought back here and locked up. No doubt they would be locked in separate cells. As they continued to be unable to prove their identities, they would be sent to separate prisons. God alone knew how long they would remain locked away. Maybe forever!
"That would be more than agreeable, Monsieur." He sighed in relief. Nadir would be furious… but if he understood the situation he would likely not feed Erik to these jackals. He found it difficult to trust anyone most of the time… but Nadir had yet to let the police take him for any of his previous crimes. He doubted Nadir would let him down now.
Arabella leans heavily on Erik as he helps her outside to the waiting black carriage. Only one officer will be coming with them – so clearly they are not so highly suspicious of her and Erik that they foresaw issues possibly arresting them later. This is foolish, of course, because Erik can easily dispose of this man now without even killing him. But, given that the man already has Nadir's address… that would be much less than wise. This also means that she and Erik will be given some privacy in the carriage.
They settle into the carriage, huddling close together for continued warmth. She can tell that Erik is deeply concerned with her well-being. Considering he has started coughing and sneezing occasionally, she has just as much reason to be concerned for him. Erik is not exactly young and resilient anymore. Even having barely suffered any truly bad effects of the cold and wet of the situation, he was coming down with a cold. As the carriage started, she reached up to brush her hand along his mask as though able to sense a fever through it.
"You really are getting sick because of me." She sighed. "I am so sorry, Erik."
"Stop blaming yourself." He shook his head, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "This is not your fault."
"Isn't it?" she challenged. "I shouldn't have gone out onto that ice. Even Adnah tried to warn me, and I didn't… I didn't…"
She sat up, looking around abruptly as she realized Adnah had not spoken to her since she'd been out on that ice. She searched without thought or word to see if he would respond to her sudden awareness. But no… he wasn't there. She could vaguely recall him making a promise to leave her alone; but she couldn't remember the specifics or if he'd even actually said it. It could have all been in her mind by that point. She'd been so weak and confused…
"What's wrong?" Erik asked tenderly.
Oh… the gentleness of his voice… Even while he was sick, and his voice was distorted… there was nothing quite like it in the world. Arabella decided not to worry about Adnah. Why should she, after all, worry about the ghost haunting her, who'd once been a man trying to rape her?
"Nothing… I just should have listened. Somehow, my little schemes always end in disaster, don't they? So much for a slightly romantic evening…"
"What was so unromantic about it?" Erik chuckled, his eyes glinting. "I was able to be a knight in shining armor to a damsel in distress! And I did not even have to slay a dragon or ogre. All it took was enduring a little discomfort, and forcing myself to be polite to a few officers of the law. Compared to some trials in my life, I'd consider that one quite easy – and romantic."
"Well… the damsel always gives her knight a prize in all the legends." She reminds him, impulsively taking one of his hands between both of hers and squeezing it affectionately. She tilted her head back so that she could meet his eyes through the mask. "What can I give you Erik? Perhaps a… No … a kiss wouldn't do. I mean it would do just fine, but…"
She hesitated at the expression in his gaze then took a deep breath.
"A first kiss should be solely out of love… don't you think?"
Erik managed a slight smile below the edge of his mask. But a moment later his head whipped around towards his side of the carriage, and he let out an explosive sneeze into his arm. He tried to do what most people would call a sniff… but clearly he could not, since he had no nose. He muttered something bitter that sounded like a Farsi curse – if she could recall anything in Farsi. Erik did always find entertainment in expletives when he learned a new language.
"Oh!" he forced a laugh. "Well… there is that aspect of it. But there's also the threat that I may sneeze all over you. Now… that would be unromantic!"
She gaped at him… and apparently it made him uncomfortable enough to gently ease his hand out of her grip and turn to watch out the window on his side of the coach.
"You know… I think I will impose on Nadir for the entire night." He mused.
"Erik-?"
"-I do not fancy another long carriage ride back to the Opera in my current state… and you aren't showing signs of sickness, but you've been through quite an ordeal."
"Erik." She insisted again.
Reluctantly, he looked back to her, and she bit a moment on her lower lip.
"Did you … mean all the things you've said tonight?" she demanded anxiously. "The endearments… the title-"
"-what title?"
"The one claiming that I was your wife."
"Oh… well… you are my wife." He stated uneasily. "Yes, you've been gone for a long time… but as you keep insisting, that doesn't change who or what you are."
"But you called me 'my love'." She pressed quietly, her voice and breathing trembling a little. Her chest and stomach hurt from how tightly her torso was clenching. Hope was unfairly exploding in her like a newborn sun. It was so much more painful than anything she'd felt so far… because she knew damned well what false hope could do. She'd seen the damage it could leave behind. "Just last night you-"
"-I am an old fool, Bella." Erik interrupted with a heavy sigh, reaching over and placing his hand against hers without clasping it again. "Don't you agree? Just an old fool… a coward. But tonight I think the shock of almost losing you all over again… the agony of it… I don't want to be a fool any longer. And I don't want to live without you again."
"No one likes to be alone, Erik." She argued, doing her best to find a good way to dampen down the fire inside of her.
"No." he agreed. "They don't. Not truly. But this is… more than that. It's … because it is you. It is not wanting to no longer be alone. It is... wanting you."
She opened her mouth to respond - without the slightest clue what she was going to say - when the coach stopped abruptly and Erik held up a hand to gently command quiet. This was not the same kind of imperious command he'd given her in the police station when her anger had momentarily caught her in its grip. This was a gentle warning that they could be overheard.