A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read my story. I know that many of you haven't reviewed, but it's obvious by my story stats that at least some of you are returning to my story. (I'm fascinated by which chapters look like they're getting revisited the most) Although I'm addicted to reviews, just seeing my view stats goes up means so much. Thank you for putting up with all my morbid and perverse sense of angst. There's a whole LOT more where that came from on its' way.

How can there not be, when the story we know and love isn't even close to occurring yet?

Erik stared at Arabella as she tried to find a break in the crowd as it shoved close to the stage. They were ravenous for more music and dancing, still haphazardly clamoring their declarations of 'Beauty and the Beast'. She'd seemed awed and happy when she'd said 'thank you' to him… but now she was beginning to look a little frightened. The crowd was almost getting out of hand, and she could see the group of gypsies that had been staring at her begin talking together in a heated way that simply couldn't be good.

He wanted to stand there forever and bask in the warm glow her words had created in him, replacing the desire and passion that had taken over his music. He had meant for her to feel elegant, beautiful, and confident… but not to feel as though he were trying to ravish her in front of the entire crowd. That had been nearly accidental; driven as he'd suddenly been by the sharp want that roared through him the moment she began dancing. It reminded him that he really was still just a human man made of flesh and blood… and one young enough to still be reasonably controlled by his body.

He felt a little ashamed of himself, after his reassurances that his love for her wasn't connected to his admiration for her beauty.

He couldn't bask in her love, or the undeniable forgiveness she showed in not condemning what he'd done. The crowd was getting out of hand, launching forward and reaching their hands out to the beautiful dancer that had entranced them. There was a frenzied glint to their eyes, making them look more animal than human.

He stepped forward and lifted his hands above his head, calling for silence. Arabella turned to look at him questioningly; clearly anxious to get off the stage now that she'd had her fun, but curious as to what he was up to next. He inserted himself partially between her and the gaping audience, who shied away from the suddenly all-too close proximity of the Freak they'd all but forgotten existed; until that moment. Far in the background, her family and tribe members stopped their arguing to turn and glare up at him, clearly wondering the exact same thing.

"Even angels need rest after such an exhaustive performance!" he entreated the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, I will be pleased to perform for you again this afternoon… but please let the young lady pass!"

He found himself actually worried as he helped Arabella step from the stage, as the crowd began to reluctantly disperse. They didn't seem as pleased as they had been moments ago, some of them actually having previously tossed coins into the air in praise of the performance. Maybe losing his control that way had cast a far more powerful effect over the crowd than the one he'd intended. He'd wanted to try and convince Arabella to perform just the one time so that she could see what a great team the two of them might make; which would allow him to keep a nice close eye on her to better protect her from her father if she agreed to it regularly. He hadn't expected the results of his audience turning almost volatile.

His eyes followed her through the crowd until she was confronted by Tsifia, her parents, and the chief of the tribe. Anton didn't look quite as cross as he'd initially been, nor did Tsifia… but Yaakov looked ready to chew and swallow nails in his anger, and his wife seemed to be doing little better. In her however, he could also sense a hint of fear as she looked quickly between husband and daughter.

Once the crowd had thinned enough, Erik took his own leave of the stage and began gathering up what coins the audience had thrown in their adulation, carefully keeping one eye on the inaudible conversation. Distractedly, he thought it was a slight miracle no one had been injured while the shower of coins rained down. There was probably more money lying around than he'd earned in the past three days' performances put together. Clearly, the spell Arabella and he had cast over their audience had made them careless with the amounts they pulled from their pockets.

Who was he to complain, he wondered briefly, as out of the corner of one eye he saw Vlad and Sven hurrying to beat him to as much as possible. He slowed down his own careful inspection of the ground, not caring how much they took on top of their share. Only the day before, he'd actually gotten them to agree on a specific amount of money per day, whether he'd earned much more than that amount or not… and it had been something more than reasonable to both sides.

Apparently, someone had been pressing these men to make life easier on him, rather than harder.

His eyes were drawn to Anton, making him recall earlier in the week when the man had approached him and very quietly thanked him for coming to Arabella's aid when she was attacked by one of their very own. He supposed Tsifia must have told him about it, to try and protect her granddaughter from further attack should the gypsy bastard ever make a return appearance.

Again, the gypsy seemed to be unconsciously siding with Erik, as he stood close to Tsifia and Arabella, talking more to her parents than to the girl herself. He hadn't quite gone so far as to place a fatherly hand on her shoulder, but it was clear in his stance that he was feeling rather protective. Maybe it was knowing what she had almost suffered the previous week. Maybe it was being able to so clearly see the anger in her real fathers face and deciding she needed an extra advocate.

Abruptly, Yaakov stepped forward and took Arabella by the upper arm, saying something loud enough for Erik to hear his grating voice, but not loud enough to make out the words. Arabella flinched back, Tsifia stepped forward and reached out to yank her granddaughter free, and Arabella's mother quickly but tentatively grabbed at her husbands' elbow in protest. Anton was the only one who didn't move to intervene, although his eyes went wide in astonishment.

None of them did enough for Erik's liking, who immediately dropped the small pile of coins he'd already collected into a pocket, and strode in their direction. As he grew closer, he could make out hisses and spits, growling that had something to do with who was responsible for Arabella, who was suffering the most shame after her performance, and how she was to be dealt with. She was still in her father's grip, and he could tell that the man's grasp was going to leave new bruises on her.

"Let her go!" he bellowed, making every single one of them freeze. Eyes shot in his direction, and Arabella jerked away from her father; turning instinctively and instantly to Erik. Her head was bowed, her shoulders hunched high up towards her ears as he stepped close enough for her to press her face into his chest. He made no move to touch her, and she made no move fully lean into his promise of comfort. The physicality of their relationship was still clearly undecided – particularly in front of the people so closely connected to her life.

How quickly she had come to seek him out for protection. He wondered if this was from loving him… being loved by him… or because of what had happened with Adnah. Maybe it wasn't even his protection she sought… but merely the comfort that he understood why she was so afraid in the first place.

"You have interfered enough!" Yaakov spat at him. "Get away from my daughter!"

Erik shook his head, wanting to reach out and break the man in half; knowing how he'd been treating his daughter. Instead, he slowly lifted a hand and let it deliberately drift over the braid that fell down Arabella's back. He didn't quite touch her… but his tender implication was clear enough. All four of the older gypsies scowled, but none moved to pull her away.

"At least when I interfere with your daughter…" he said in a deadly calm voice, eyes meeting Yaakov's. "It is to protect her… to care for her."

He looked purposefully into Anton's eyes.

"Have I done anything but protect her?" he demanded. He could feel the power in his voice seizing their attention, commanding honest answers the best it could.

Anton shifted uncomfortably. His silence lasted a long several seconds before Erik nodded once, hard, as though that had been answer enough.

He turned back to the fiend that had raised Arabella.

She certainly hadn't gotten her goodness from him.

"You, on the other hand…" he breathed dangerously. "You… I don't even want to think about what you've done to her. I will say, however, that it's hasn't been protection you have had in mind."

Arabella's mother stepped back so suddenly from her husband that he knew his meaning had come across loud and clear. Tsifia stiffened, mouth dropping open in shock; and Arabella grew taught so that he could feel her trembling through the scant air between them.

"Don't." she whispered, as Anton looked between them all suspiciously. "Please don't, Erik."

"What are you-"Yaakov began, taking a threatening step in Erik's direction, but he was interrupted.

"Would someone please tell me what is going on here?" Anton demanded. "I thought we were going to discuss what just happened. How did it turn out into a territorial dispute?"

"Because men often think they own women." Tsifia answered instantly, her voice thick with dry humor, although she was clearly in shock from Erik's near revelation. "Two men are beating their chests over a beautiful girl… one because she is his daughter and the other because he's in love with her."

The group again grew still, all eyes – including Arabella's – freezing on the older woman in shock.

"Oh, please!" The woman laughed, although her eyes were hard when they landed on her daughter and son-in-law. "Anyone who has watched these two together in the past weeks could see it! A blind man could see it!"

Slowly, all eyes except for Arabella's turned to stare at Erik. He realized with something close to disappointment that Tsifia had just thoroughly distracted Anton from the accusations he'd just flung at Yaakov, protecting her granddaughter from the one man who probably could have helped her.

His mouth set in a firm, grim line beneath the mask. How long had the old woman been keeping Arabella's secrets in some mistaken belief that hiding Yaakov's crimes was doing more for her granddaughter than bringing it out into the open? Was it Arabella she was protecting, or the daughter who did nothing to stop the abuse?

He'd promised not to kill Yaakov… but he'd made no promises to keep her secret. He'd just wanted time to discuss the matter with her… and since these were her first hours out of confinement since her revelation… it hadn't been possible yet.

"I would scoff." Tsifia continued casually. "But my own daughter ran off and married a gaje. It's almost poetic justice that her daughter's only serious love interest is a gaje as well."

Anton frowned, rolling his eyes in her direction before returning them to Erik.

"Is that true?" he demanded quietly. "Are you in love with Arabella?"

There was a taut moment as the feelings he had for Arabella surged forward and overwhelmed him. The hand that hadn't quite touched her hair cupped itself gently to the side of her head, the heel of his palm catching the length of her jaw and lifting her face until they were looking into one another's eyes. Slowly, he smiled, knowing he was probably all but glowing with his emotions. He was delighted to see that she had all but started glowing, too.

"Very much so." He admitted almost breathlessly.

She returned his words with a ghost of a smile.

"But… but you can't have her."

His golden eyes snapped furiously towards the gypsy chief. Instantly he was on edge again, hand dropping from Arabella's cheek. If it hadn't required him to bodily push her out of his way, he might have taken a single lunge at the man. He like he was going to say more, his eyes even suggesting that he hadn't been attempting to be cruel or dismissive, but Erik's temper was always faster than the thoughts or words of the people around him.

"Thank you for stating something so obvious!" he hissed. "I am just a freak gaje! Of course I cannot have her! But that doesn't mean I cannot love her! It doesn't mean I cannot protect her!"

"It isn't your job to protect her." Anton pointed out, his face growing red at the confrontation.

Instantly, Erik found an opening to return to the subject that he found most pressing. In spite of how it seemed Anton still had something to say about his earlier comment, which had so quickly heated Erik's temper, he couldn't let the man speak and distract the topic again. It took no thought on his part at all to make his decision– again.

"Then you should have made certain that someone else did a better job!" Erik nearly thundered, his eyes again shooting to glare daggers at Yaakov.

The gaje bastard was being entirely too quiet now, his jaw still hanging open from the revelation that someone loved his daughter. No doubt he'd spent years trying to convince her she wasn't lovable at all. He was so overwhelmed by tis foreign concept that he couldn't even think to try and defend himself from Erik's vague implications.

"You shouldn't have let an abusive bastard raise her!"

Yaakov clenched his hands into fists, and he took a threatening step forward as Arabella made an alarmed whimper of despair. Those words had gotten his attention.

"Abusive?" Yaakov challenged. "What kind of bold-faced lies-"

Again, he was interrupted. Having seen Erik's antagonism being so abruptly returned to Yaakov, Anton had begun to realize there was a real pattern and meaning to Erik's flung insults. His red face had begun to go a sickly yellow. His eyes shot between the members of their little group, calculating and recalculating every possible scenario, interpretation, and option.

"They aren't lies." Tsifia hissed angrily, losing her false composure; or, apparently, her desire to distract Erik and Anton from the subject. "I've helped take care of the wounds you've caused over the years! Erik has seen them with his own eyes, still bloody and raw! She bears the scars! Don't you dare try to call them lies!"

"What scars?" Anton cut in, his eyes hardening immediately. "I knew that you were a bastard, Yaakov, and that maybe you beat your wife… but a woman who puts up with a man like you deserves what she gets. You've been doing it to your daughter, too?"

Arabella whimpered, and both Erik and Tsifia edged in closer to her. Tsifia tried to wrap her arms around her granddaughter, but the girl only pressed nearer to Erik. He was slightly stunned by her choice, but instantly reacted by wrapping his arm completely about her, stroking her head with his long fingers. He couldn't help but touch her when his proximity had thus far done very little to reassure her.

"It's all right." He promised in a low whisper. "You won't be hurt anymore, ma belle. I won't let him hurt you again."

"There's nothing you can do to stop him."

Her watery words came out so soft that he barely caught them. His eyes locked with Tsifia to see if she'd heard as well, and the woman scowled with a nod, turning purposefully to Anton and Yaakov. She stood firmly between her granddaughter and the two men.

"That's enough for now!" she decided loudly. "Anton… we need to take this somewhere private before things get further out of hand."

Anton glanced around, and nodded briefly once he realized just how many people were trying to pretend not to be eavesdropping. Erik felt his face grow warm in embarrassment on Arabella's behalf, and let his hand clutch her hair a little to further comfort her.

"Erik, Yaakov… we're going with Anton now." Tsifia stated. "We have a lot to discuss."

She turned to her daughter and grabbed her by the shoulder forcefully.

"You take Arabella to my tent. Be a comfort to your daughter for once in your life… because you won't have a husband to speak of by tonight - unless you want to lose your mother and daughter instead! I've had enough of this!"

Her daughter looked daggers at her mother, but reluctantly reached out to gently take Arabella's shoulders and pry her away from Erik. She didn't have the tender finesse of a mother who'd had a lot of practice soothing an upset child, but she didn't seem to be angry at her daughter. She simply seemed resigned to do her best to carry out the order that had been given. Erik was beginning to realize that taking orders was probably all the woman knew anymore.

Both girls kept glancing anxiously at Yaakov. The terrible husband and father simply glared after them, one hand clenched into a tight fist at his side.

They had almost rounded a tent out of sight when Arabella turned back and - instead of glancing at her father - met Erik's gaze. She paused, in spite of her mother's insistent attempt to pull her onward. Impatiently, she pushed away from the woman she should have loved and respected above all women. Like Erik, though, she had lost all real love for her mother a long time ago.

"Bella…" Tsifia said warningly as the girl came back towards them. "Go with your mother."

"I will." She promised; a hint of the sassy exasperation Erik was beginning to know so well returning. The sight gladdened him as she all but rolled her eyes at her grandmother. Then, motioning to Erik to take a few steps away with her, she led him away until they stood in the vague shadow of a tent further off.

"I'm sorry." Erik told her the moment she turned to face him. "I didn't mean for it to come to all this. I hadn't planned this."

She lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him that almost made him laugh… but he forced himself to keep a straight face. Even through the trauma this was obviously causing Arabella, he felt far too much malicious satisfaction over what was about to happen to feel much remorse. He had simply been unable to come face-to-face with her father and let him get away with a lifetime of horror against his own child.

"You knew exactly what you were going to say." She accused. "When they banish him, what exactly do you think is going to happen to me?"

"I expect your grandmother to take you in… for now." Erik admitted simply. "I've seen her take you in any time you've been having particular troubles. You probably could have run away to live with her years ago."

"I never expected her to raise me." Arabella sighed. "She's my grandmother, Erik; not my mother."

He motioned towards the camp in general.

"I have watched the entire community try to help with a single child, ma belle." He noted. "Your grandmother would have done anything for you. You have just been too stubborn to let her help."

In spite of his teasing tone, Arabella opened her mouth to object. He shook his head quickly, holding up one hand to stop her.

"I know how hard it is to accept help, mira kom." He reminded her. "I know a few things about the good and bad sides of being stubborn, too."

Her eyes lit up a little as she managed a bashful chuckle.

"Go with your mother now." He suggested gently. "I'll come to your grandmother's tent with her when this is all over."
She turned and looked at the group who waited on them, biting her lower lip anxiously as she eyed her mother. The woman had made her way back to Yaakov' side; clearly used to being under his control.

"I don't know how to talk to her." She admitted.

"You don't have to speak to her." Erik reminded her, his voice still reasonable. "You can yell and scream at her if you want. For all I care, you can slap her across each cheek a dozen times. She deserves at least that much for standing by and refusing to protect you."

He took her hand briefly, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Go now." He whispered, wanting to lean forward and kiss her cheek or forehead… but afraid of her reaction if he did. "I'll be there as soon as I can."