For a time, there was little but cold and pain. There was sound around her, but she saw nothing but darkness. She could feel so little beyond the pain coming from somewhere in her core that concentrating on anything else was extremely difficult. Sometimes, when she could understand what was being said or done around her, she wasn't even entirely certain that what she heard was real.

"She should be dancing right now. Her father will be furious."

"The hospital is too far away. She'll be dead long before we get her there. Besides… there's nothing they can do for her."

"You've burned our entire meal, you stupid little slut!"

Arabella flinched at that one, although she had no idea whether Erik or her grandmother could see it. That was certainly one that made little sense… but it still stung to hear such a vile chastisement come to her in Erik's voice. Who was he talking to? Was he speaking to her?

Or was he punishing Aria?

She tried to open her eyes and sit up; to figure out just what was going on… but her body felt both insubstantial and as though it floated in space, while simultaneously feeling as though it were made of nothing but dead tree limbs. If Erik was punishing Aria, then what could she have possibly done wrong to make him use such vile phrasing? It wasn't like him to be so crass and cruel! Good God… Erik wasn't her father!

After what seemed long hours of struggle, she felt her muscles collapse. She hadn't been able to do anything at all… and with the surrender came the memory that she had no daughter for Erik to punish.

Aria is dead…

Horrified at the loss but relieved by the lack of danger, Arabella floated longer in the painful darkness. Sometimes a brush of something moving over her face, head, or hand would startle a large part of her body into awareness… but opening her eyes was simply too much work. It was so much easier to simply lie there and endure whatever was being done to her. Even though her mind constantly thought of Erik; she found herself expecting even further pain than what her own body was already doling out.

"Hurts…"

She was startled again by her own voice. Her body jerked briefly, and for just a moment she managed to crack her eyes open. The light around her was blinding, even though what little sunshine existed was thoroughly blocked by the canopy she was resting under. There were shapes around her; many of them crying and murmuring quietly. She had little time to make out more than the merest of silhouettes – understanding that one of them simply had to be Erik. Her father wouldn't have put up with people being so close to her. The brief glimpse she caught of the world surrounding her was terrible, but she couldn't think of why.

Again there was a hand on her – definitively a hand this time. She was almost certain of it - and was equally certain that it was Erik's hand. She knew the feel of his touch by heart.

"This will help the pain." Her grandmothers' voice promised; just before the hand lifted her head up a little, and a warm liquid began to be dribbled into her mouth. She managed a few swallows before the need to cough violently nearly made her drown in the soothing offering. Someone pulled her into a nearly sideways sitting position, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair repeatedly, bunching it into a fist at the nape of her neck to keep her from possibly spitting or even puking all over it.

Erik... Erik was always with her...

She was relieved when she finally calmed down enough to be settled onto the ground again. The coughing had really been terrible that time, and she'd been afraid she really was going to be physically ill. She could feel most of her body again by that point, and it shuddered violently with cold and pain as blankets were meticulously settled over her frame. She could feel it enfold her before slowly settling into each deep crevice of her prone frame.

"What about the fever?" Erik's voice murmured from somewhere nearby; making her instantly want to reach for him. As it had been with her nightmares, Erik's voice was her anchor to reality. But her body was still so heavy… Without the ability to simply lift her arm and reach back toward him, she felt the world sliding away from her again; as though she were rolling away from it down a steep mountainside.

"It will help that too." Tsifia's voice promised, although by then it was so incredibly distant and vague that it seemed more dreamlike than real.

Soon, the strange voices started again; the ones she wasn't entirely sure she could trust. There were simply things that didn't make sense… but things that made perfect sense and terrified her as well. Things about her father… things about Adnah…

Things about Erik and Adnah…

"You killed one of our own!"

Were they going to take Erik away from her? Were they going to seek out a justice that their kind usually avoided like the plague? The thought distressed her; that her own people might so suddenly be able to turn on Erik for defending the woman that was now his wife. Would they really hate Erik if they knew the truth? Had she been right about that from the very beginning? Would they simply - but erapse so much more horribly - put him back into a cage? She couldn't think that they would simply chase him off...

"Get that away from her!"

Erik's voice broke through everything. The sheer volume of his voice was enough to jolt her violently back into her own body. For once, her eyes shot open and stayed that way. All she could see at first was a dingy and dirty red canvas room; as though she were lying with her back against a wall. Then, slowly, she realized that she was simply facing the inside of a tent. Whatever was happening was going on behind her – and it wasn't pretty. That must mean it was just outside… but there was light coming from behind her…

"Let go of me, Erik." Tsifia's voice demanded; her voice hard but somehow strained. Arabella could actually hear the struggle the two were having; although it sounded like a petty squabble between siblings over a toy.

What in God's name…?

With a groan, she rolled herself laboriously onto her back. Her head continued on its' own with the momentum of her strength-draining shove rolling util she could see what was happening. Her body wouldn't move much better than that; but it was enough to see that she was at the Freak Show tent, and part of the wall had been opened. Instead of being pulled to either side, however, the flaps had been formed into a canopy over her…

Beside the pallet she lay on, Erik was trying to claw something out of her grandmothers' hand. They were actually grabbing at each other's hands and wrists, struggling over something that seemed much too small to Arabella to be of any real importance. Her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to take in the two combatants for more than just their silhouettes. She was distantly startled by her grandmother wearing all different shades of white and off-white... the skirt doing very poorly against the mud she kneeled in.

Erik looked exhausted behind the pale yellow-white mask he wore – one she'd known he owned but never before seen him wear. It startled her to see him in anything white at all beyond a button-up shirt underneath a vest or waistcoat. He usually wore dark, colored shirts; knowing shades of white could often imply some form of mourning. Her grandmother's usually covered hair was let loose from its' usual dicklo. Arabella had so rarely seen her grandmothers' hair in the past years that it was astoundingly grey in the sunlight.

It was the way they looked at each other that worried her most; although their clothing made little alarm bells go off in her see both the people she loved nearly sneering in anger and hatred at each other made her lurch violently; wanting to reach out and stop their squabble. Still… she could barely bring her wrists more than two or three inches from her own body.

"Erik?" she demanded, her voice cracking but otherwise much stronger than her body seemed to be. "Bunica? What…?"

Both stopped and turned to her abruptly, hands dropping so fast that Arabella was certain her grandmother dropped the item the two of them had been fighting over into the mud. Bewildered, she watched as they leaned over her together, seeming to fight for the spot closest to her. Erik seemed to realize how ridiculous fighting for a good place at her side was before it could become stupidly childish and comical; for he quickly stood and stepped right over her to kneel on her other side. They each took one of her hands between their own, and Arabella lifted an intrigued eyebrow at them.

"How are you feeling?" Tsifia demanded before Erik could get a word in. She lifted one of her hands from Arabella's and placed it on her forehead. "The medicine has worked a little. You aren't as warm as you were before."

"How long have I…?"

"Not long." Erik promised quietly, staring down at Arabella with such a cautious intensity that it made her want to squirm a little. "Your fever took over yesterday morning."

"Yesterday…" Arabella's eyes widened a little, and she tried to lick at her lips anxiously but her tongue felt like sandpaper. "Is that all?"
Erik simply nodded, squeezing her hand gently.

Bewildered, she stared between the two people who loved her before realizing exactly where she was instead of just noticing it.

Why was she outside the Freak Show tent? Why were they under an erected tarp instead of in a warm and dry tent?

There was something to that… something she should have been able to place immediately - particularly with the white they were both wearing; but she was distracted by a small coughing fit and the curious way Erik and Tsifia worked together to help her through it. There was a tension between them that had never existed before - probably due to the squabble she'd just interrupted – but it didn't keep them from working in near harmony to keep her comfortable.

"It's only been a day." Erik told her once she'd calmed and was leaning heavily into him as he wrapped an uncertain arm around her. They'd tried to get her to lie back down again, but she wouldn't have it. Moving at all was such a hardship that she refused to be placed back in a position of such vulnerability and uselessness. At least sitting up against her husband, she could pretend to be strong. "We've been giving you as much as we safely can to bring your fever down…"

"It finally worked…" Arabella murmured wryly, her eyes slowly scanning the area around them. Just outside of the shade of the tarp, she saw several members of the tribe standing or sitting nearby. Mainly it was Anton's immediate family; but there were a few others.

They were so quiet and still… except for a startling amount of weeping. She had never seen such a display before. It made no sense…

Except that it made perfect sense. Her father had never held enough respect towards gypsy tradition to allow her to be part in such practices; but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of them.

Her eyes slipped up to the tarp over her head, down to the pallets she was placed on, then back over the small crowd again.

"Oh God…" she breathed; as a horrified shudder wracked her body. Bile rose into her throat; and her stomach squeezed so tightly in on itself that she thought she was going to vomit and defecate instantly. She did gag; but nothing came up.. or out. "Oh God… no…"

Her eyes lifted very slowly to Erik as his arms held her tight against him, his hands futilely moving over her back to try and comfort her. She could see the concern in his eyes that had always been there… but it had intensified to such a degree that he looked nearly insane with it. His head barely moved as he watched her, but his eyes were unable to remain even remotely still. His pupils kept shifting ever-so-slightly from left to right, up and down, examining her as he clearly waited for… something… But that fear and concern wasn't complete. She could actually see the defiant spark of hope deep in his gaze.

Had her new lucidity awakened that wonderful-terrible spark?

The horror inside her intensified tenfold. If she'd had any doubts; the look in his eyes verified everything.

Moaning again, she forced her arms up to his shoulders, and tried hard to cling to them. It felt as though her hands were simply going to flop back into her lap - in spite of her determination. To keep them in place, she shoved them into the collar of his shirt.

Erik's entire body jerked in surprise at the feel of her palms finding his shoulder blades – probably the most intimate touch they'd ever shared – and he let out a nearly silent gasp she only heard because her head was so close to his mouth. She wished she could have concentrated on that moment of surprise: that she could take pleasure in surprising him and giving him even a mildly new experience. But she couldn't. She was simply too horrified.

She wanted to keep her head up so that she could continue looking at him, but she simply didn't have enough strength to demand so much from so many different body parts. It was hard enough to notice Erik's physical reaction to her abrupt touch as her palms slid unfeelingly over scar ridges from the beatings he'd received at the hands of her own people.

But I did the right thing this time! I've done everything right! I did everything I was told! I was taking care of myself, being honest, resting…

"Shh… mira kom… shh…" Erik soothed uncomfortably, nuzzling her as he so often did as of late. "Shh… It's all right. It'll be all right…"

Her eyes burned with tears at his attempt of bravery. It wasn't going to be all right! How in the world could it ever be all right? No matter how hard she'd tried… she was still going to hurt him in the ultimate way! The only thing she could possibly ever do worse would be to have an affair!

"What's the matter?" Erik pleaded as she continued to shudder. "Bella? What's wrong? Are you in pain? We have plenty of medicine…"

She was in pain; real, physical pain. But that wasn't why she was shuddering so hard. Her pain was actually secondary – if that – to so much more… something that was so much worse! Her eyes rose slowly to her surroundings again; almost hoping her revelation would have been nothing but more feverish dreaming. But no… she was still being taken care of outside of her home. There were still members of the tribe waiting quietly nearby for something to happen… and her grandmother was watching her with a quiet misery that accepted what was coming without being at all happy about it.

"Bella?" Erik insisted desperately. "What is it?"

"I feel… sick…" she replied weakly; being as honest as she could without allowing herself to bring up the very dreadful reality that had crept up on her. Just when she finally had real happiness… just when she was finally being the wife Erik needed – if not the lover he needed – she was going to take it all away from him…

She wasn't doing any good by sitting against her husband and panicking. She had to calm herself down… she couldn't let emotion sweep her away again. She'd seen where that led her.

It had led her here… to this… to the end of her life.

Were they making her bier even now?

Calm down, you fool! Calm down!

"You are sick, mira kom." He pointed out quietly; grimly. His hands didn't stop smoothing over her back, shoulders, neck, and arms… as though he could never get enough of simply touching her.

He knew… He knew that he didn't have much longer to do so.

His touch was soothing enough that it slowly melted away her horror, and she was able to allow her head to roll back and rest on his shoulder. Her eyes were only half-open, but she watched Erik for a long time. She had to face what she was doing to him – and how much worse it was going to get. No matter how hard she'd tried – from the very beginning – her attempts to free Erik from his suffering were a total failure.

"Miri kom…" she breathed softly, shaking her head ever-so-slightly. But she could think of nothing to say to him… There was nothing that would make this right. Eventually she turned to stare at her grandmother; who remained unmoving and staring at them with her own misery in her eyes. She didn't feel quite so bad over her grandmothers' grief. The woman had suffered far worse through her long past… and she would endure as she must… But Erik had never been through such a thing before – not that he'd told her of, at least. "Bunica…"

"I honestly never expected you to … wake up like this again…" Tsifia admitted to her quietly. Her voice was rough, as though she were holding back tears… But the Romani didn't hold back their grief. Superstitious as they were; the grief often went much too far in Arabella's opinion. Even before someone passed away; they began trying to appease the dead.

Death was unnatural in her people's eyes. It was something that should by all rights anger the spirit who had died. So there would be many things done and changed when the time came… She didn't know if Erik was prepared for that… but she didn't think she could be the one to tell him. She didn't want him to think of her death; and certainly not before the time actually came.

Was there no other happiness left for her to give him?

"I'm glad I did." She whispered, her fingers on Erik's shoulder blade curling in a slight caress that became more of a clumsy scratch. He didn't seem to mind it – or even notice it. "I … I need something…"

"Of course, my dear." Tsifia promised instantly, scooting herself closer. "What is it?"

Her eyes rolled back up in Erik's direction. She could feel his entire body starting to tremble. He was realizing that she was much too aware of the world around her. No doubt he'd never expected her to see her so lucid again… and his happiness with her return to reality warred with his horror that she actually realized she was dying. He expected her to be terrified… and she was… but she didn't want him to know. She just wanted to give him what she could… and maybe to be a little selfish one last time in the process; in a way that wouldn't hurt him again.

"My dress…" she whispered. "I need my red dress."

Her grandmother stood instantly and stalked off; presumably to search for the trunk the dress had been packed in. She had understood instantly. Erik, on the other hand…

"Why do you need that?" he asked warily. "It isn't going to be much good to you when you're this sick. It might even get ruined…"

She managed what felt – and probably looked – like a ghastly smile.

"It's the only thing I have left to give you." She whispered.

She watched as his eyes hardened and his jaw tightened until his teeth almost audibly ground together.

"You have plenty left to give." He protested. "And plenty of time to do it."

Still with that terribly fake smile, she shook her head.

"Erik-"

"No, Bella." He denied. "I'm not giving up until there's no other choice. You have a choice. I won't let you give up!"

"I'm not giving up." She promised softly, sighing and closing her eyes wearily. "I'll keep fighting… I really will… but… Please…"

There was a long tense silence. She knew Erik. She knew he was fighting the urge to remain in endless denial with his desire to give her what she seemed to need so badly.

"All right… I'll play along." he sighed. "What do you want the dress for, ma belle?"

With a grunt of frustration, she reached her hand up again and forced her palm to meet with his masked cheek.

"One more dance." She breathed.

"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent