A/N: To those who might wish to point out - rightfully - all the typos that probably still exist in this chapter... I've been kept up by obnoxious neighbors for four days in a row until 2 a.m. ... and my family usually settles down to sleep by nine or ten. I haven't been getting much sleep. Add that to all the trouble I had just writing this chapter without the exhaustion, and I hope you can take it easy on me with the criticism. I've been through Hell trying to get this chapter up today. I've looked it over and havent seen anything severe in terms of typos, but I can barely concentrate. I apologize if my general mental state has hurt this chapter at all... but at least I can finally start working on the stories closure.

When she awoke, it was to find that she had been cleaned, changed, and moved to the bed Erik usually used. The light filtering through the tent was considerably stronger than it had been; suggesting she hadn't just been sleeping deeply, but for quite some time. It was well past noon, from the way the light struck the tent… There was coffee on the small stove – apparently very strong coffee based on how awake she felt just inhaling the smell... for a moment at least. A plate of bread and cheese had been left within her reach in case she woke up hungry; but it wouldn't be necessary for her to worry about reaching for the plate any time in the near future. She wasn't anything even close to hungry.

"Erik…" she mumbled softly, looking around the still somewhat dim interior of the tent. She was under every single blanket that Erik had ever acquired in his short weeks of freedom, but she still felt no desire to push them off of her – in spite of the late-summer heat. The chills had remained, even after her ordeal and long sleep.

She remembered everything, of course. How could she not? It was impossible to forget losing your child – no matter how much or little you'd wanted it while there was still an option of doing so. The hysteria that had overtaken her when her short labor was over had surprised her; but apparently she'd had an easy enough time getting over it with just a little sleep. All she felt while looking back on that morning was a numb kind of grief… uncomfortable and body-filling… but no longer all-consuming.

That part must have passed with the dreams and nightmares that filled her slumber.

"Erik?" she repeated a little louder, slowly pushing up onto one elbow and peering about more carefully.

"I'm here."

He pushed his way quickly into the tent, wearing a light but long-sleeved white button–up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and dark trousers with black shoes. For the briefest of moments, he wore a black mask she'd grown accustomed to – it had become his favorite as of late – until he whisked it easily from his face and tossed it aside. She could instantly see the darkness around his eyes; suggesting he was utterly exhausted as he moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. Maybe it was the darkness of the canvas room; but he seemed to have aged several years since the previous evening.

"I was just washing the bed linens and clothing." He explained unnecessarily. She wasn't terribly concerned with what he'd been doing. She took his arm in both hands, and he braced her as she struggled to sit up all the way. The blankets that had been cocooned around her fell in a clumsy pile that formed a sort of barrier between them.

"The baby…" she began uneasily, careful not to use Aria's name. "Did you-"

"-I took care of it." He promised quickly, placing a hand so that it spanned her side and part of her back for support. "She's been buried on sacred ground; and she'll have a marker with the name you picked."

Arabella's stomach dropped, her mouth sagging open slightly in astonishment as this news smacked her smartly across the face.

"Already?" she asked. "I mean… you went alone?"

"Y-yes…" Erik shifted uncomfortably, brow furrowing in concern. "I… should I have waited for you?"
"It isn't that." she admitted. "I didn't mean for you to do it alone, is all. No one should have to go through something like that alone."

"Oh…" Sagging in relief, Erik turned his face away slightly with a little shrug. "It's all right, Bella. It was time I needed alone."

She stared at him a long moment, trying to decide exactly what that might mean. With Erik; there were always so many interpretations to the things he said. Still… since her interpretations were usually wrong – resulting in Erik feeling he needed to comfort her in some way – she decided not to try and interpret his meaning at all this time. She had lost a great deal in her life already… but she knew that somehow Erik had lost even more – in just one morning – than she'd ever lost.

"I'm still sorry." She offered weakly, slowly and uncertainly placing her hand on his arm again, doing nothing to discourage the hand on her waist. It wasn't a touch she was unfamiliar with by now – little progresses had been being made on a daily basis… but she still wasn't always altogether sure just how to respond. It wasn't easy to think; either. She felt weak and fuzzy-headed… the bleakness of the day adding to how generally bogged-down her fever made her feel. "You could have had time alone afterward…"

Erik shook his head again – firmly.

"I needed to do it alone." He admitted. "Besides… you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

She plucked briefly at the clean clothing she wore. She wasn't exactly a light sleeper, but she was surprised she'd slept through being changed. She found her thought distracted by her cleanly condition; wondering if it had been Erik or Tsifia to change her clothes. Erik glanced at her fidgeting hand, and managed a weak, embarrassed smile.

"Don't worry… I didn't see anything." He promised. "Not anything intimate, at least. Your grandmother did ask me to help a little… especially in cleaning and redressing your stomach."

The way her stomach rolled had nothing to do with the fever raging through her. She could feel herself go cold and pale as she stared into her husbands' eyes. He himself looked a little sick to his stomach… so world-weary, sad, and… resigned. She should have seen resentment there, scolding anger and judgement. But, for some bizarre reason, Erik never judged her selfish or foolish decisions. Even when she'd stabbed herself, he'd only reacted from his fear of losing her – never his judgement on how she felt or whether or not she was in the right.

He'd been looking at her injury for the first time in weeks; and he'd seen just how bad it was getting. He knew just how sick she was… and if he hadn't accepted it yet… he still wasn't rightfully furious at her. He wasn't railing at her for being so stupid or selfish.

Was it selfish to resent every secret she ever had been torn out of her through one terrible situation or another? It was no ones' fault but her own when she told Erik about her father's abuse… and the baby would have been found out eventually. Self-denial could only get you so far when a baby grew inside you day by day.

The infection was now something the people she cared about were both aware of – although Erik had known from the beginning it existed without understanding just how far it had spread.

They were all secrets that had needed to be aired… that couldn't be hidden – certainly not indefinitely. But they had been her secrets. They'd been hers, and they'd been stripped from her. She had nothing that was hers – and hers alone. Not only that… but the outing of her secrets always managed to hurt someone. Just looking at Erik now, she knew exactly how hurt he was by her condition. Or… maybe it was the fact that she'd kept it from him… or the combination of the two? If Erik were angry at her, she could never have blamed him… but she didn't want to hurt him again.

God… she hated hurting him… and it felt as though it was the only thing she ever managed to do. But in spite of all her selfish actions and thoughts, he'd yet to sit in judgement of her. Even when she'd stabbed herself, and he'd chided her out of his fear… he hadn't judged her emotions or her desire to get rid of the child. He'd feared losing her; and his only judgement had come from her choice in how to go about it. He'd never scolded her again, once she'd calmed down and been in her right mind once more.

If he could so gracefully handle whatever he was feeling… then she could do the same.

"It's all right." She breathed, reaching up to stroke her fingertips down his ruined and twisted face. "I'll be all right, Erik. I know it's bad right now… but now that… now that…"

She chewed her lower lip; faltering. She didn't want to bring up Aria. She couldn't speak the baby's name… but she couldn't just simply say 'the baby'. It felt too impersonal.

"I'll start to get better now." She finished lamely.

Erik closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"I'll do everything I can to see that you do." He promised; although she could tell he was highly doubtful of her recovery. He sounded so … lifeless and defeated. "But… your grandmother… she says… She says the medicines have barely even been slowing it down."

"Erik…" Arabella sighed. A part of her wanted to curse her grandmother for breaking her promise… but she couldn't blame the woman. Erik had needed to be told for some time. It was her own stubbornness that kept him in the dark for so long… and just look at what the news of her illness was doing to him. It was only being compiled onto the loss of little Aria. Although hiding most of his emotions quite well, he still looked like a man hanging from the edge of a precipice that was falling apart beneath his scrambling fingertips.

Shifting on the mattress, she began to lie back on the pillow; pulling gently at his forearms. "Ava kai, miri kom…" she whispered; feeling the need to comfort him for the first time since his release from the cage that had held him prisoner.

He looked at her quizzically, clearly surprised that her reaction to his promise was to pull him into the bed with her. Still, he shifted willingly enough as she directed him, very carefully settling onto his side beside her and letting her put her arms around him. He was so tentative; as she kept maneuvering him; until he was lying against her with his head pressed in the place between her shoulder and breast. Her hand stroked at his head gently.

"What are you doing?" he asked her curiously, his voice tainted with the hint of amusement.

"Giving you what you've always given to me." She whispered back, brushing her lips on his head as he'd done for her hundreds of times. "Giving you what you need and deserve…"

Erik remained still and stiff at her side for some time, his face pressed to her breast like that of a child who has had a terrible nightmare and simply needs the comfort of his mother. He was trembling slightly by the time his body began to otherwise relaxed, and Arabella wearily closed her eyes with the realization that her husband might be weeping. Hs wrapped both arms around her, pulling her closer than they'd ever been, and all she could do was continue holding him. She didn't care if their bodies became entangled, or if his breath fanned an area that usually cringed at the thought of being seen or touched. She just held him in the quiet semi-darkness of their tiny home… not wanting to break the silence with reassurances that she was going to be all right; or with lamentations that life had gone so wrong so fast.

Everything was her fault… and she accepted that. But for what time she had left – whether it was days or years – she was going to do her best to stop destroying her husbands' life. She was aware of how often she'd promised herself that she would stop doing stupid things, that she would think first of Erik and make sure his happiness was her entire goal in life. So far… something had constantly made her fail miserably… but she was going to keep trying. She would keep trying even if it meant she could never have any of her own.

Never have any happiness? What a ridiculous thought! Erik was her happiness!

"I love you." She finally whispered; uttering the safest words she knew.

His arms tightened around her, but otherwise he didn't respond. His head moved slightly against the swell of her breast; but it was in one of those entirely endearing movements instead of something that would have made her fear what came next.

She sighed and simply continued stroking his scalp, occasionally brushing her lips across his forehead. Each time, she'd have almost sworn he shivered slightly… but his body was a constant thrum of trembling, so it was difficult for her to tell. She wanted to tell him she was sorry a hundred-thousand times over… but knew how useless the words would be. No amount of remorse would ever manage to fix the damage she'd done… and would continue to do.

Her body had fought valiantly. For almost a full week after losing the baby, it seemed Arabella was finally going to mend. The rash went down around the site of her infection, and the inflammation seemed to go down to some degree. Even her fever wasn't quite so bad anymore… It seemed she was really starting to get better for a short time that gave everyone a little hope.

By day four, though, the crowds had thinned considerably. Erik wasn't performing as often; which was a large part of what drew in the crowds, because he wanted to be available to take care of his wife. The natives were getting anxious having a tribe of gypsies remain among them for so long. It was decided that on day five, they would begin to move on and find another county to exploit. Tsifia and Erik wanted to object, but knew they had very little moral ground to stand on. Arabella was already on the mend, and she seemed to get better every single day. She wouldn't have to walk much, either, because by that time Erik had purchased a large wagon big enough to carry the tents and belongings of several gypsy families. This meant that Arabella could ride up on a seat with Erik as he drove the team of horses no longer burdened by Tsifia's belongings – as she was the only one willing to mingle her things with the Living Corpse's. There was even still enough room in the back for Tsifia to ride – or for Arabella to lie down if she seemed overly tired from simply riding on the wagon seat all day.

While they travelled for the second day – the sixth since her miscarriage – the weather turned on them abruptly. Everyone that had spent a majority of their lives in Spain – including Arabella – was surprised by the series of thunderstorms that slowed and then halted their progress. It all happened so suddenly that absolutely no one was prepared for the dampness or drop in temperature. No one had any real time to set up for camp when the storms hit. The wind simply gusted in so hard and fast that even attempting to set up a large number of tents was nearly impossible.

In the end, it was actually the Freak Show tent that was assembled so that everyone could huddle inside. It took nearly everyone to successfully set it up, and there was virtually no room for everyone. Several of the men took turns standing out in the dangerous downpours, so that their friends could go inside and dry off and warm up for a time.

By the time the storms would end, and they would be on their way again, several people were suffering the effects of the foul weather – including Tsifia and Arabella.

It was far more detrimental to Arabella than to her grandmother.

On day eight, Erik woke up in the early morning to prepare for their continuing journey only to find that Arabella was not on the sleeping pallet they had agreed to share beside her grandmothers. They had only pitched one tent between them – as had many other families and friends – to make packing up the next day all the quicker. The storm was really slowing them down, and their food supplies were slowly depleting. It was easy enough for someone to sneak off and find or steal a bit of food for the camp as a whole, but not in the sheer amounts that would soon be necessary.

"Bella?" he asked uneasily, his voice apparently loud enough for Tsifia to stir on her own pallet beside his. He looked around worriedly, quickly rising to his feet. He was usually such a light sleeper – and the coughing fits between both women were something he had thought he'd never manage to sleep through. It must have been the combination of exhaustion and warmth (sleeping up close to Arabella was indeed a very body warming experience – particularly after a long day of plodding along in near-freezing rain) that had allowed him to sleep for such a long time without stirring.

He quickly donned trousers more appropriate for being out of doors, and stepped out into the soaking wet ground. He'd found a damp but grassy spot beneath a giant tree for their tent; but just beyond was nothing but mud. It squished between his toes unsettlingly, and he focused his attention on the strangely spaced footprints his wife had made when she'd left the tent. She couldn't have been gone terribly long, because the footprints were already disappearing as they filled with water and began to smooth over. Maybe it was her absence in and of itself that had awakened him.

He followed the melting tracks, looking around in growing concern. All was quiet – it wasn't even close the time Anton had designated for all to be up and preparing to leave for the day. No one else was awake – or at least, awake and out of their warm tents. It would be easy to find Arabella, because there would be no fresher footprints to interrupt the ones she'd left. Still, it took nearly five long minutes of walking in one meandering direction before he found her in a copse of trees set apart from where the tribe had settled. She was leaning heavily against one of the trees, with a pale and waxy complexion; save for brilliant red spots of color high up on either cheek. The blue night dress he'd barely managed to salvage after her miscarriage was filthy, as though she'd fallen several times in the mud. It was strange, because he hadn't actually noticed any signs that she'd fallen. Then again… he wasn't a master at tracking anything or anyone … not yet, at least.

"Bella!" He hurried over and took her shoulders, noticing how the night dress sagged on her much too thin shoulders. She hadn't seemed to be losing very much weight, but her shoulders seemed so tiny in his large grasp. He turned her to face him and tilted her chin back so he could look into her dazed, heavy-lidded eyes. "What is it? Are you all right?"

He thought she might have just left the tent to relieve herself, but she hadn't needed to do that very much. She hadn't had much appetite in order to produce much bodily waste… and it seemed her bladder was simply bottomless. No matter how much he managed to make her drink, she never seemed to need to evacuate the liquids later. Certainly she might have come out here for that reason, but she didn't look well enough to stand, never mind crouch down by a tree and hold onto her balance. Her fever had returned with a vengeance – explaining how cozily warm he'd felt all night.

"The festival…" she murmured in a despairing voice that he barely understood. "I should be dancing at the festival… He promised to take me."

Instantly outright panicked, Erik scooped her up into his arms without another word and bolted for the half-erected encampment.