A/N 1: I have edited this story - AGAIN - to repost for future readers. Apparently even when I edit word-by-word, I either miss things or ffnet decides to F**k with me. So... you don't have to re-read this one if you've already been here. But, yeah, I admit there will probably be plenty of new or re-arranged sentences. It's so easy to suddenly think "That part could be better!"!

I can't find a particular edit I know was in here last night that needed fixing. Something along the lines of "How she how"... which obviously was a place I must have gotten distracted during my typing and editing multiple times - so if that's still down there PLEASE forgive me!

A/N 2: Some people may consider this chapter graphic. It involves bodily fluids. And I won't lie; this chapter gave me an extremely hard time... it's hard to find explicit information on this subject... only point by point details that are helpeful but not complete. I apologize if this sees unrealistick, or overblown, or even jumpy.

Arabella shifted uncomfortably; wishing her body would make up its' mind as to whether it was freezing cold or burning hot. She'd pulled up and kicked off the blanket so many times that it felt as though she hadn't slept for a single moment all night. During the cold spells; she shivered so badly that she was surprised the shaking didn't affect Erik on the next mattress. Even inhaling somehow felt like an impossibility until she managed each one. The shivers kept shovin the air out again much too quickly. During the hot spells; she thought she was going to have to strip naked and run through the encampment to the nearest river to cool down. The problem was that she simply didn't have the energy to get up; and without a way to cool herself off she felt combustable.

Sighing in aggravation, she took a glance towards Erik, asleep on the bed beside her.

They'd been together for nine days.

Nine glorious days; during which he'd taught her how to be his magicians' assistant, and allowed her onto his stage - under the absolute condition she not attempt to dance again until both he and Tsifia felt she was entirely recovered from her injury. He did everything that he possibly could to see she was comfortable and rested, while still allowing her to work a little, and earn her own income while she continued suffering her infection.

He didn't like it; having her out and about when she should be resting… but he certainly knew better than to try and restrain her and keep her in their tent. She'd done so much recovering from various injuries in the past months that she was sick to death of it. Telling her to stay home and rest or take care of domestic issues would have driven her insane. It was much easier to let her work while always under his watchful eye.

He had began teaching her how to pick pockets – although that was more for amusement than any future use. She had a distinct feeling he might have a heart attack if she ever risked arrest – or worse – due to being caught. He wasn't yet permitting her to practice the art; but she did sometimes wander through the crowd, and simply brush against them to see just what she could get away with unnoticed. As long as her hands stayed in plain sight; very few people seemed to even register her presence.

Each night: after they ate and decided it was time to retire; they would lie on their separate but pressed together beds, and lie facing one another. Conversation could drag on for hours on end; and each night they found themselves falling asleep with a smaller gap between them. On the previous evening; when conversation had been lacking but neither had felt tired enough to sleep, he'd read to her from one of his recently acquired books as she lay with her back pressed to his side. Only once she'd fallen asleep and he was done reading did he move further away.

Just that night, she'd fallen asleep with her head barely atop Erik's shoulder; hearing and feeling the beat of his heart against her ear. Erik supported her uncertain neck with the bicep attachhed to said shoulder, folding his arm carefully around her and keeping his fingers curled in towards his palm - so that she wouldn't feel as though he was trying to intimately touch her waist. Although ... several times, she felt his thumb flicker just slightly in a little caress over her nightgown.

She shifted once more; as carefully as she could. Impatiently she picked at her clothing to unstick it from her legs. Apparently her hot flashes had caused copious amounts of sweat.

"You're doing a terrible job."

Arabella started almost violently, blinking hard at the relaxed face of her husband. His lips hadn't seemed to move even the slightest bit; but he still managed to make himself perfectly audible.

"At what?" she demanded softly; wondering if he'd spoken in his sleep.

His lips quivered slightly as though he were fighting off a smile; and she watched as his golden eyes slowly cracked open in the darkness. It was creeping towards morning; so she wasn't at all surprised that she was able to see the tiny glint of moisture in his eyes reflecting whatever available light existed in their dim home. They were like two tiny stars staring at her from afar.

"At moving quietly." He explained. "You haven't been still for nearly a half hour; and every breath you try to take quietly nearly echoes around the tent."

Frowning, Arabella began pushing herself up into a sitting position; making it only so far as her elbows. She'd been doing a good job of hiding it - particularly since all her normal duties and practicies were forbidden her - but she had been feeling something beyond weary the past days. There were moments where standing or sitting up made the horizon shift and swirl around her for a second or two; and she did all she could to keep it from Erik so he wouldn't have a brand new reason to worry and hover around her.

"I've been keeping you up all this time; and all you can do is tease me about it?"

Smiling more broadly, Erik lifted himself effortlessly into a sitting position to stare at her with an intensity that always managed to shake her to the very core. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. For a young man with a considerably higher speaking and singing voice; his laugh was astoundingly low-pitched. Maybe it was just that he so rarely did more than chuckle.

"I've told you before, Mira kom…" he reminded her. "I need far less sleep than most people. I only remain in bed so long so that I don't disturb you."

He inched his knees forward so that they crossed onto her mattress, and reached out to brush his fingers down her cheek.

"Besides; I enjoy the feel of you sleeping nearby far too much to simply get up and leave it behind the moment I wake."

Arabella rolled her eyes at his once-again overblown sense of sentimentality. She was distracted, however, by the frown that suddenly twisted his already distorted features. Her eyes snapped back to his as he turned his palm around and placed the back of his hand against her cheek, then moved it to her forehead. Finally, his other hand came up to test her throat; as if that somehow held the answer whatever puzzling dilemma had occurred to him.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"You have a fever…" he stated musingly, still brushing his hands over her as though trying to gauge just how hot she was. "Higher than I've ever felt before. How are you feeling?"

"I… I'm all right." She replied thoughtfully. Erik's skeptical gaze flickered to her eyes; using a scolding gaze he'd picked up easily from her grandmother.

"Bella…" he began sternly. "Don't make so little of this. You're really warm. How are you feeling?"

Annoyed, she smacked his hands away from her face impatiently - but not roughly. Her face twisted with her annoyance at so often being treated like a child since the discovery of her pregnancy. She understood that she hadn't made wise choices during that time; and that she now had a great deal of physical healing to do because of it. But that didn't mean she was always so stupid.

"I'm fine." She persisted. "I have chills and sweats. I've had them before. They go away."

"You didn't already have an infection from a knife wound before." He reminded her. "You struggled a little to sit up just now. Do you feel weak?"

"No." Arabella sighed, turning to climb off her side of the two beds. It wasn't easy to lie when she was looking him dead in the eyes. "My stomach hurts, but that's nothing new."

"Bella-"

The moment she was on her feet; Erik sucked in a sharp and startled breath. Less than two seconds later; he was on his own feet; and had leapt across the space of the two beds to stand at her side. Arabella jerked her head up to look at him in shock; wondering just what exactly could have alarmed him so strongly.

"You're bleeding!"

Stunned, she dropped her eyes to her nightgown. She had been having so many suddenly hot spells that she hadn't thought much about the clothes sticking to her body. Sweat had such an effect on material, after all. But the smears on her pale blue evening dress were far from clear. They didn't merely darken the material. Instead, she was horrified to see a strange maroon splotch right by the spot between her legs. It was rather small, clearly because her nightgown hadn't clung between her legs so much in the front.

No doubt there was a larger, similar spot on the back side of her clothing; or Erik wouldn't have been so quick to notice. It also made sense, as she slept most nights entirely on her back, that any blood would be pulled down to that part of her clothing.

"…Oh…"

It was such a feeble reaction; but it was all she could manage as she struggled to think of what this could mean. There was really only one excuse that made sense… and it was hard for her to work up the right emotions that connected to such an idea. Living with Erik for such a short time had softened her to the idea of raising a family with him… but she hadn't thought she was at peace with the concept yet. She hadn't realized that it was almost to the point where it was something she actually looked forward to...

But the blood was a very definitive solution to her lack of enthusiasm so far… and all she could seem to feel was a sort of hollow horror at first.

"I'll get Tsifia!" Erik decided within a matter of seconds, releasing the elbow he'd instinctively grabbed when he first reached her side. Arabella lifted her eyes to watch him spin toward the opening of their tent and begin to work frantically at the ties sealing it shut. After a moment, his fingers froze on the last secure knot; and he looked back at her worriedly. "I should take you with me. Or you should get back into bed… or…"

Her eyebrows lifted; faintly finding herself amused by his flustered state. For all Erik's genius; this was one scenario he had no answers for.

As another wave of heat slammed into her; it was accompanied by a twinge of pain in her back, which swiftly grew and circled round to grip her stomach in what seemed like the cruelly squeezing hand of a giant. She lurched into a slightly bent position, cupping her belly in her hand; but uttered no sound of distress. She wasn't sure what hurt more... the cramp... or the pressure of her hand on her still healing stomach. With the infection located there, her skin was quite sore. She had been aware of how her injury had turned puffy and brilliantly pink over the last days, and more recently a strange spotty rash had broken out around it. Still... she had done a decent job of not letting her husband in on that little string of facts in full detail. Erik had been trying to monitor her condition; but she admittedly hadn't been particularly cooperative.

She loved Erik dearly; but he made an insufferable nursemaid.

Her jerky action seemed to make Erik's decision for him. He strode right back to Arabella and scooped her up into his arms; only to plant her right back down onto her bed inches away. Frantically; he piled every blanket he could reach onto her, smoothing them over as though he was familiar with tucking her in. Then; with a curse muttered under his breath, he charged back to the tent opening and ripped the last tie loose before sticking his head out the door. Arabella could see – although she was hardly paying any attention – that dawn was creeping over the world. That relieved her guilty conscience for waking Erik; because she was certain he had been fast asleep before her tossing and turning began.

She blinked rapidly; wondering how she could even think about her guilt - or lack thereof - while bleeding and in such pain.

"Get Tsifia!" he bellowed to someone that must have been within sight. "Get her now!"

Arabella shook her head and offered the smallest of moans as the brief cramp released its' grip on her.

"It's too late, Erik." She stated loudly; the horror slowly growing stronger in her mind and heart; along with the pain. With the stronger aches and pains.

Her voice brought him back to her side; but he hadn't seemed to have understood her.

"You'll be all right." He soothed. "Your grandmother will know what to do."

"Erik-"

"No." he persisted. "It will be all right."

Arabella found herself smiling slightly at his persistence, which seemed to give him pause. As he distractedly smoothed the hair from her face, his look became quizzical. It was a very interesting combination; that quizzical look added to the frantic brow and the mouth pulled taut with fear. She found herself only chuckling even harder in a moment of brief hysteria.

"What is so amusing?" he demanded.

"You are." She replied simply. "Things can't be all right just because you will them to be, Erik. You aren't God."

His next skeptical frown had her outright laughing; even though it seemed to bring on another cramp. This one was a little stronger than the last, and it was accompanied by a small wave of stickiness that made her grimace. Helplessly laughing and moaning simultaneously, she placed both hands on her stomach. Putting so much pressure on her already suffering flesh proved to be an agonizingly bad idea.

Erik hissed out a string of French words she had absolutely no doubt whatsoever were obsceneties

"Where is that woman?" he finally managed when he returned to Spanish. He stalked over to the doorway; and stuck his head and shoulders through again. "Where is Tsifia?"

"Erik…" Arabella shook her head, grimacing even more, as the stickiness between her thighs increased noticeably. Her laughter was diminishing into a string of bubbling giggles with absolutely no real humor.

He raced back to her and tried to continue soothing her; making empty promises and doing anything he could think of to increase her comfort. It seemed like an eternity that he fluttered around her; driving her to madness more than the blood and discomfort by the time her grandmother finally hurried into their tent for the first time since their marriage. Obviously having been aware that she wasn't being summoned for an early morning chat, she carried with her a large basket of what were undoubtedly medicines, bandages, salves, and other such medical concoctions. Tsifia would never have been able to care for Arabella's stab wound when it had first happened; but she was often a miracle worker with lesser injuries and ailments. It was not her fault that her granddaughters' infection had been stubbornly remaining during many days of constant medicines - or that Arabella had refused to make a scene over it during any new developements.

"I'm here!" she announced unnecessarily; hurrying to the bedside and pulling the blankets back to examine her blood-moistened granddaughter. "Oh Dear God…"

The old woman instantly crossed herself and uttered a low Romani prayer; finishing with a superstitious but empty gesture that Arabella knew all too well. It was one of those things meant to cast away evil spirits when their presence was suspected.

"What's happening to her?" Erik demanded instantly; although Arabella decided by the fear in his eyes that he already knew the answer. "Can you stop it? Can you help?"

Tsifia didn't lose her calm composure, in spite of her obvious shock and horror. She placed her basket at her feet and looked at Erik somberly.

"You can't stop things like this." She told him simply. "But I can make her more comfortable; and maybe help lower the fever. You can start by going and getting some fresh river water. It will be cold enough to cool her from the outside."

Arabella wondered how her grandmother even knew she had a fever. Was it just from her physical state with the infection; that having a fever would make sense? Was there something about her color that spoke volumes about her bodies' temperature? As Erik seemed to nearly fly from the tent with the porcelain basin in his hand – tripping over himself as he quickly back tracked to pick up a large empty pail as well – Arabella realized what her grandmother was up to and managed another vaguely humored chuckle.

"Men in a panic…" Tsifia sighed, shaking her head in disgust as she turned back to her granddaughter. "…are about as useful as guitars without strings."

Arabella laughed again, but it was cut short by a sharper stabbing in her stomach. She was amazd just how taut her lower back muscles had gone; as though they were turning into ironwood.

"I'm losing it…" she whispered after a moment; as the amusement her grandmother and Erik had created faded away. In spite of her certainty; she looked up to her grandmother in the vague hopes that Tsifia would contradict her - already knowing her grandmother would never give her pretty lies or false hopes.

"Yes." Tsifia replied softly; sympathetically. "I'm sorry, my dear. But if I could have countless disappointments before finally having your mother; then you will have a chance to have your own children as well. I know it won't comfort you now... but in time you could try to have another."

Arabella stared up at her grandmother with a scowl; but said nothing. The longer she lay in her own blood with the cramps slowly increasing; the more she began to truly understand what was happening. It wasn't just what was happening to the baby. It wasn't just what she was losing. It was what Erik was losing – which was so much more than just a child that wasn't even his. It was what they were losing.

He had claimed he wasn't willing to have a child of his own… but he deserved his chance to have his family... even if the child involved wasn't his by blood.

They were losing a family…

Closing her eyes with a moan, Arabella laid her arm across them in order to hide the few diamond teardrops that began clinging to her lashes. She wondered how just how she could possibly hope to be enough for Erik after he'd so clearly begun to embrace his future with so much more.

While she became lost in her woeful train of thought, Tsifia pulled up her nightgown to examine the obviously infected knfe injury. Arabella made no sound at all - not even a whimper - as the old woman began plying her stomach with pungent smelling salves that had done very little so far to stop or even slow the infection. She then began folding large pieces of cloth and pressing them hard against the bleeding orifice between Arabella's legs.

Once that was done, Tsifia placed a clean cloth over the by then quite sticky flesh, and began uttering frantic prayers in Romani as she began to prepare the tea she'd mentioned to Erik.

It was nothing less than what she deserved; Arabella's mind continued. She hadn't wanted this baby from the start… but Erik's enthusiasm had become infectious in the past days. No… she couldn't quite yet love the child growing inside her… but she could feel loss over the possibility of loving it… of being loved by it… And... after all... it was still another life. It was another human life that had deserved to survive... Erik had made her see that once her initial madness had faded.

"Bunica…" she whispered; clearing her throat viciously to keep her tears down. She was sick to death of crying – sicker of it than she was of having to heal from so much past trauma. But now it looked like they were two things forever integrated into her life. Erik and Tsifia would take even more careful care of her now; which was more infuriating than endearing to Arabella. As much as her own condition had frightened her; she hadn't wanted them to share her fear. "Do you think he'll ever want children of his own?"

"All men want their own children." Tsifia murmured simply; not understanding the seriousness of her granddaughter's question. "They want heirs to carry on their legacies and their names. Why do you think so much emphasis is put on marrying within ones own tribe?"

"Not Erik. He doesn't want to risk having a child that looks like him."

Tsifia slowly stood from her place by the stove; and moved to the foot of the bed.

"Then you'll have to remind him that he also risks having a beautiful child that looks like you – or how he should have looked himself. ...Not right away; of course."

"It isn't worth the risk to him." Arabella said with certainty.

Tsifia didn't seem to have a response; so returned to her work. As the water began to boil on the stove, Erik bustled back into the tent with a reasonably full pail and basin; placing the pail by the tent doorway before bringing the bowl to Arabella's bedside. By the wetness on his pant calves and shirt, as well as the water level in the pail; he'd hurried so fast to bring the water that he'd spilled a great deal of it on the brief journey.

He glanced over her quickly; taking in the slightly larger stain on her nightgown and glowering at it in distress. Tsifia had lowered the nightgown after dealing with the infected wound; so he was far more interested in her blood loss than the state of her infection.

"Your grandmother will take care of you." He whispered; plucking up a scrap of cloth from one of his in-progress costumes and wasting no time in beginning to bathe her face with the frigid river water.

"So will you." Arabella offered with a little smile; hoping her reassurance was convincing.

"Yes…" he agreed simply; although she could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "Bella… are you… Will you be all right?"

"Of course she'll be all right." Tsifia stated as she approached with a steaming mug of hot tea. Her face was stony as she gave Erik a side-glance that suggested he just might be the greatest idiot she'd ever met. "But it will take time. This type of loss is not easy – mentally or physically."

Erik opened his mouth as though to argue with her, but Tsifia slashed one hand through the air in a forbidding manner. Arabella lie on her bed-cot, eyeing her husband miserably as he slowly seemed to understand what exactly was occurring. It wasn't as though he hadn't understood the moment he saw her bleeding… but he seemed far less willing to accept the truth than she had been.

What had surprised her was how Tsifia had given Erik the answer to his question, instead of letting Arabella answer. She wondered what her grandmother was so concerned about; that she wouldn't allow anyone to have a chance at jinxing her granddaughters recovery.

"Mira kom…" she offered softly; placing her hand comfortingly on his wrist. "I'm sorry…"

Erik blinked hard at her.

"This isn't your fault." He murmured; slowly tearing his gaze from hers and staring off into mid-distance.

They were quiet for a long time. Erik bathed her with the cool river water; while Tsifia fed her the fever-reducing tea she'd concocted. The pains in her stomach increased; making her wonder just what else was going to happen to her… if anything could happen to her that was worse than what she' already suffered.

It wasn't until her grandmother tried to force Erik from his tent that she realized something terrible could happen.

"Why?" Erik demanded angrily.

"It isn't a man's place to-"Tsifia began.

"A man's place?..." Erik interrupted furiously. "What can possibly happen out of my view that involves my wife?"

"It is improper!" the old woman persisted. "This is a birth, Erik! A tragic one – to say the least – but a birth just the same! Men have no place during such a time! You had no argument from me when you allowed Arabella to continue any form of work during her pregnancy; but I won't allow you to remain now! It's improper, and you'll only be in the way."

Erik stared at the woman in total incomprehension. Not only was she speaking of Romani traditions he had never been informed of; but he knew of no such similar ways his own people treated a birth or miscarriage. He seemed horrified at the very thought of leaving Arabella alone during her ordeal. If this were a natural birth, he might have been persuaded. But, given Arabella's bloody and clearly frightened state; he was far from willing to cooperate.

To Arabella, the thought of Erik being banished solidified her predicament. She knew that she was not simply going to bleed until there was nothing left to bleed. She was going to be giving birth to this child; which was undoubtedly already dead in her womb! She was going to have no choice but to feel it's very physical being slipping from her body… to see it wrapped in clothing… and to know what its' unfinished face would be!

"No…" she moaned, clamping her eyes shut tightly and throwing her head back on her pillow. "No! I… I can't! I can't!"

Terror gripped her; and her body began shuddering violently from the combination of fear and a new wave of icy cold. The very thought of failing so miserably at something as simple as carrying a child to healthy life...

It didn't matter that her grandmother had suffered the same calamity multiple times. She somehow felt as though she were the first woman on earth whose body and mind was so inadequate as to cause this.

She had no doubt that she had indeed caused this. If she just had kept her head that one night...

Now God was going to punish her... make her see the consequences of her actions even though she'd tried to make amends and learn from her stupidity.

"Shhhhh…" Erik soothed, moving to sit on the side of her bed, and pulling her into his arms. "I'm here."

"But you can't be!" Tsifia protested desperately. "Erik, I am not trying to be cruel to you! But this is women's business! And I know how hard this will be for you! It just might be harder on you than on Arabella!"

"This is happening to my wife." Erik stated coldly. Although Arabella's eyes remained closed, she could sense his intense glare being aimed at her grandmother. "She is my business. Anything that happens to her is my business. I'm staying."

Tsifia let out a string of inventive curses; but Arabella was too mortified by what was happening as her stomach locked in another cramp to find any amusement in her husband and grandmother butting heads. She shoved herself into a sitting position; and Erik quickly settled himself behind her as a physical support before her grandmother could work up a fresh argument. With a frustrated sigh, Tsifia stood at the foot of Arabella's bed and pushed up the now blood-soaked nightgown. No one had suggested she remove it or change; all knowing that there would only be fresh blood spilled later.

"Darling…" Tsifia told Arabella; for the first time showing fresh pain and sympathy in her eyes and tone of voice. "I need you to push."

"I can't…" Arabella whimpered once more, feeling Erik's hand as it smoothed her hair; and his lips as they brushed along her scalp. "No..."

Her husband's arms came around under her armpits and held her securely against him that way before he went back to petting her hair.

"I know it's difficult." Tsifia admitted. "I once lost a child at seven months along. You're lucky you haven't gotten anywhere near that far. But you have to face what is happening to you! Fighting it will only prolong it, and hurt you more!"

"Hurt?" Arabella gave a sharp, hysterical, humorless laugh. A tiny part of her wondered just how much worse the pain would have been if she'd carried her child to full term. "It isn't hurting me! It's destroying me!"

"No it isn't." Erik promised quickly. "It is only breaking a small part of you… a part of you that can be mended. Don't be afraid; mira kom. I'm right here…"

As though his mere presence were truly enough to be of comfort, considering the circumstances.

"Erik…" She sighed, rolling her eyes back to look at him before giving up and giving in. Based on his response to being banished by Tsifia; she doubted her own entreaty to make him leave would end well. It was pointless to bring up the matter again. Besides… she really did need him there. His voice was soothing her terror; although her hysteria remained just below the surface as she determined to listen to her grandmother and husband. She wasn't wholly comforted by Erik and his empty words... but it did help at least a little to have him there.

"It's her fever." Tsifia told Erik in a low murmur as she knelt on the foot of Arabella's bed. "She's not... entirely herself."

"She's losing her child." Erik replied coolly. "That is excuse enough to panic anyone."

The woman scowled in concentration, chosing to ignore him as she placed her hands on Arabella's knees.

"Push." Tsifia ordered. "Push just for a little while; and then I promise it will be over."

It didn't take long at all. Arabella kept her eyes clenched shut the entire time, agonized over how her body seemed so anxious to expel the life she herself had once despised. It was so much harder than she'd ever imagined it would be; even with Erik keeping up a constant rain of soothing words in her ear. Even with his supportive arms around her, his palm even pressing on her stomach as though to help get her job done faster. At least he had the frame of mind to place his hand lower than her actual wound.

When it was over; her grandmother swiftly wrapped an old blanket around the incomplete infant and turned to hurry outside. Arabella; with tears coursing down her face, pushed herself wearily into a full sitting position. Erik shifted instantly to help her remain upright, grasping her shoulders to remain supportive of her... even though she could hear the quiet hitch in his breathing that suggested he just might have given in to tears of his own. She wondered if he'd seen her dizzy sway; or if he just didn't want to release her when they were both in such emotional turmoil.

"Bunica…" she implored. "What was it? Can you tell?"

Tsifia hesitated near the door; glancing over her shoulder at the young devastated couple; while Erik began too rock his wife slowly; undoubtedly to comfort himself as well as to comfort her. Slowly, she parted the blanket enough to peer down, her face twisting in what could only be called grief.

"Just barely..." She replied softly. "It's a girl.."

The word made Erik moan softly, but Arabella only tried to sit up even further. She wasn't sure what her grandmother meant by just barely. Was the baby so unformed that it was not certain just what her child had been meant to be?

"Let me see her." She demanded.

At once, Tsifia covered the baby and hurried out of the tent.

"No." the firm reply drifted back through the canvas.

"No, Bunica!" Arabella tried to scoot herself to the edge of her bed. "Erik – I want to see!" Arabella moaned,

His arms encompassed her again, and he began rocking her almost frantically. He was definately restraining her; and Arabella cursed her realization that in her current state... he was going to win whatever physical battle she might put up against him. If she hadn't felt weak earlier; she felt completely strengthless now.

"No ma belle." He denied gently. "No. You don't want to see her like that."

Her breath caught momentarily in her throat; failing to take in an astonished and almost hopeful - but jealous - gasp.

"Could you see?"

"...Only a little." He admitted reluctantly. "It seems they are only just barely human at that phase… worse off than even I am now. You wouldn't feel any comfort in seeing so much as the glimpse I caught."

Arabella clenched her hands into fists around the cloth of Erik's sleeves, pressing her soaking wet eyes against his arm as tightly as she could in her misery. She was exhausted; still burning with fever; and her grief was suddenly all encompassing. She hadn't even really been far enough to start feeling the baby move inside her yet… but she could feel its absence keenly. A great void had opened up in her womb… and she knew nothing would ever be able to fill it again. There would never be another life growing inside of her…

Erik had been right.

She'd wanted to have a family just like any other woman.

And now… it was just gone…

She found herself turning completely into Erik, and curling up against him as the sobs overtook her. She prayed that it would be the very last time she ever had to cry…

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Erik crooned, his own voice now choked with grief beyond question.

"They'll bury her..." Arabella whimpered; certain her voice was probably incoherent. "They'll bury her and I... I won't even know wh-where..."

She was almost surprised into laughter by the hiccup that interrupted her words. But she couldn't find any reason to laugh; even out of surprise. In fact... the hiccup was so large and strong that it hurt. She should have been mortified at the path her mind was taking... but all she could feel was desperation.

"What do you want me to do?" Erik asked desperately.

"I n-nee-eed... I need to b-bury her ri-ight. Don't let the-them pu-ut her in the w-woods!"

Erik hesitated for such a long time that Arabella knew her request was probably hysterical; and that it probably made very little sense to him. Her child couldn't have even been rightly called a human at that phase... could it? And she'd been born dead... unnamed and unbaptized... No one would ever allow such a creature to be buried in a churchyard. But her need to do just one thing right by her poor and innocent offspring was the only thing she thought might ease her grief and guilt - if only slightly.

Very slowly, Erik eased her back onto her pillow, pulling up the blankets that would soon be as ruined by blood as her nightgown, and tucked them around her firmly. She opened her eyes blearily to stare at him, and she could actually see a single track where a tear had fallen down one cheek. It startled her - just enough to make her breath catch again in her throat. He stared at her with so much pain and tenderness that she wished she knew how to comfort him the way he was comforting her.

Why was she always the one being comforted? Was it another failing of hers?

"I'll do what I can." he promised in a whisper. "Stay still... rest... I'll be back soon."

Stunned that he was listening to her so readily; she watched as he made his way slowly toward the doorway. As he had much earlier; he paused and glanced back at her.

"Do you want to give her a name?" he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible.

Blinking rapidly, trying to calm her hitching breaths, Arabella thought frantically... Her eyes on her brilliant husband the entire time. She thought almost instantly of what a comfort the child would have been to them both... how Erik would have taught her with infinite patience anything in the world he could. And; considering her mother was a dancer and her step-father was the most brilliant musician anyone in the tribe had ever seen... she knew the child would have been musical in some way as well.

"Erik..."

He turned towards her fully; managing a weak smile of amusement at the name she'd uttered; even though he coppletely understood she was calling to him. His eyes weren't actively shedding tears; but it seemed the longer he stood there, the closer he came to it. His eyes were badly swollen and bloodshot from self-restraint.

"Please don't." he teased.

She was not quite able to make herself smile at his joke.

"The music... what you called that piece yesterday... the one from Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes?..."

"What did you say that type of song is called?"

"Ah..." He took another hesitant step back toward her; swallowing so hard it was nearly a comical gulp. "An aria?"

Arabella nodded weakly; her shudders of cold and grief exhausting her after all she'd just endured in so short an amount of time. No doubt the copious blood loss wasn't helping any...

Her mind was still spinning with thoughts of the light their child would have been to them both. A brilliant light to give them love and hope... with her own talents in music that would bring them together as a perfect performing team... If she wanted it; of course.

"Aria ... Luz ... Sauveterre ..." she murmured; her eyes so heavy they could barely stay open. The tears were still spilling down her cheeks; har face aching from how long her grief had twisted it.

"Luz?" Erik echoed; his voice seeming to come from very far away. "What does Luz mean?"

Arabella sighed, feeling the muscles that had locked over her entire body finally give up and release all their tension. It left her feeling even more tired... but also watery and almost insubstantial.

"...Light..."

Erik stared at her for an endless moment as her eyes drifted shut and darkness began to overwhelm her. She was still conscious enough to hear when he finally left the tent; leaving behind a sigh she took as one of relief.