A/N: This chapter is for E.M.K81, my first fan and a wonderful friend and helper... and for Marblesky... my biggest fan and another wonderful Phan phriend.

For a long time; Erik simply held his wife with his eyes clamped shut, and his masked face buried so close to her shoulder that no one could possibly make out a single one of his expressions. He slowly brought one hand up across her chest until he could press his palm over her heart; feeling the elevated beat of the struggling organ, and the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. He took in slow deep breaths of her hair and skin, trying to memorize it… even though there was a distinctly sickly smell to her that he recognized as different from before. The scent was still essentially his Arabella.

I'm a little afraid…

I don't want thoughts like that to be the last ones I have…

Her words echoed in his brain and sent terrible needles down into his chest. Had he so much as suspected she was afraid of anything worse than the physical pain of her condition… he never would have added the valerian to her tea… or any of the other herbs he'd been trying to research during his little lessons with Tsifia. He still hadn't learned a great deal; and hadn't been taking much effort to make his own versions of the teas she introduced him to… but the way the last concoction had worn off so quickly had terrified him into unthinking action. The only thing he'd wanted was to take away her pain… and he'd deliberately gone overboard with the ingredients because he'd known she might refuse to take very much. He'd been right... but she'd still taken a bit more than he'd anticipated.

What have I done to her?

He couldn't imagine what dreams might come to her now that she was sleeping deeply enough so that her physical pain couldn't touch her. She would be powerless against whatever her mind threw at her. There would be no waking her, or reassuring her that what she dreamed was nothing but her imagination going insane.

It was something he should have thought through… thought of at all. He knew how terrible the mind could treat a person. Even in his own youth, his mothers' abuses had never hurt as much as the things she would spew in her anger. Even in her nonchalant, happy moments, she often said things that had stayed with him – and probably always would. Why hadn't he thought about Arabella's past before submitting her to the darkness of her own mind? He knew what a terrifying place your own mind could be!

But she wouldn't be suffering physically anymore… and no matter what her mind suffered; they would be no more than dreams. When it was all over, she probably wouldn't even remember them… The good part was that she wouldn't even have to remember the physical pain either. What he had just done would – if he'd done it right – keep her asleep through all of it. He wouldn't have to see her tears, hear her moans, or watch her writhe.

And…of course… there was always the decent chance that she was so deeply sedated that she wouldn't even dream at all. If he'd done just right... nothing would ever hurt his beautiful gypsy princess again.

"Oh, mon dieu…" With a slight whimper and a catch to his voice, Erik grit his teeth together so hard that his jaw and neck strained painfully. "Don't take her from me... Don't take my only light away..."

She was his light; the first real glimpse of it he'd ever had in his dreary life. Music was glorious, and a part of his soul that consumed him the way fire consumed oil or coal or wood. But Arabella was a bright but gentle light... something that helped im to see hope and joy and life. He'd been happy to be her safe haven... but she was everything that constituted hope. What kind of darkness would he be left in when she was gon? He knew all too well how much darker a room could be when even the smallest of lights had been put out - far darker than it had been before the light ever existed.

He should have acted faster that night; when she discovered she was with child. If he hadn't reacted so rashly and run off to vent his anger… then maybe he could have shared it with Arabella. He could possibly have expressed it to her so that she knew where his rage came from. He could have proven to her just how deep his love went; and he could have expressed his deep desire to be with her forever more fully, more passionately… more tenderly… than he ever had before or since. Maybe Aria would still be growing within her belly, and his wife would not be quietly slipping away and taking her light away forever. He wouldn't be feeling the world fall away from him piece by piece, leaving him scrambling like a man on a slippery cliff for purchase of solid ground.

I should have told her that I love her… just one more time… Why didn't I tell her?

Because telling her was simply too much like saying good-bye; too much like acceptance. He'd been selfish… nothing but selfish… and she was going to die without ever understanding just what she was to him… She had some vague idea, of course. He'd told her and shown her numerous times since their friendship had blossomed into something more. But what she knew was nothing in comparison to the monster his love really was.

There was the great problem…

His love was monstrous; just as he was and just as his face and body were. It did damage where it tried to heal… it caused pain when it tried to bring joy. Everything he touched that had no emotion turned to gold, something that created awe and inspiration and very deep emotion in others… But when it came to his own emotions? When it came to trying to interact directly with another emotional creature? He destroyed…

Just look at what he'd done trying so hard to connect with his mother.

That monster was going to die of starvation once Arabella was gone... and it would not go quietly.

Tsifia was shifting where she sat, obviously growing not only slightly restless, but pained due to her constant position. She reached out to collect the cup of tea that Erik had made for Arabella and sniffed at it – probably having smelled something off even at the simple distance of lifting it from the ground to get rid of it. Erik didn't have to see her actions from more than his peripheral vision to understand the grimace she must have given.

"What, exactly, did you put in this?" the woman demanded – more curious than suspicious. "It doesn't smell like the tea I taught you to make."

"It has some extra ingredients." He admitted hoarsely without lifting his head. He was concentrating much too hard on Arabella's breathing to care about Tsifia and her questions. He didn't even care that the mostly kind old woman was losing the only family she had left. She had had family in her past. She had been loved, and had loved, through a great deal of her life. Her loss was nothing compared to his. For a man-child that knew how hard love would be to find again in any capacity… his loss was utterly incomparable.

"Like what?" Tsifia insisted.

"Like valerian." He admitted simply.

"You… sedated her?"

The older woman sounded absolutely surprised – but in a nearly pleasant way. Erik could scarcely believe that he wasn't being screamed at. Then again… they had been fighting earlier over Tsifia wanting to do much worse. She probably thought that his willingness to sedate Arabella out of mercy was a step in the right direction to putting her out of her misery all together.

"What will you do when it's over?" Tsifia asked, her question taking him so off guard that he thought even his heart had grown momentarily still.

"What?"

"Once she's gone." She elaborated in a thick voice. "You are no longer being held here against your will. Will you remain with us and continue to perform?"

Erik wanted to grit his teeth again; but felt if he did he just might break his them.

"I don't know." He admitted. "I haven't thought about it. I don't want to think about it. I'll worry about it when the time comes…"

More time passed, and Arabella made tiny noises that suggested dreams or hallucinations; but the sedative seemed to do its' job properly. Her distress – or at least restlessness – never grew beyond a few small twitches. The clouds overhead continued slowly breaking up, allowing for a little more cold yellow sunshine and just enough heat to begin drying the ground. Where Anton sat with his family, Sarima looked as though she was finally starting to realize that the friend she'd barely spoken to since her own marriage was dying; as she seemed to fight off a small wave of grief. Tsifia stood and paced close by, obviously restless and partly just anxious to have this horrendous waiting over with.

Erik didn't care about it ending. He could have laid by his wife forever and simply waited for her to wake up. He would have waited years if it meant the ending didn't include being alone. The sunshine slowly being revealled was not warm or comforting to him. The brilliance of it hurt his eyes, and the breeze that occasionally wafted by left him all the colder for it.

The rise and fall of Arabella's chest as she breathed was almost soothing, except for the slight hitch her terrible cold created. The longer he lay there holding her, listening to that rhythmic breathing, his body began to relax and his eyes began to drift shut. As her fever slowly climbed back to dangerous levels, her heat began to seep through their clothes and into him; making him all but pleasantly warm. If he weren't paying such sharp attention to every detail of the young woman in his arms; he actually could have drifted to sleep. As it was… his body simply couldn't keep up the horrified tension surrounding him. It seemed to be saving what strength it had left for what was to come…

Two or three hours had crept by, and his right arm and leg had begun to numb from lack of motion when Arabella shifted just enough to snap him into full consciousness. His eyes opened to try and discern exactly what had happened… and nearly jerked back when Arabella proved to be less than three inches away with her eyes staring directly into his.

"Bella-" be began softly, his voice revealling just how shocked he truly was to se her so seemingly lucid so quickly. Her stare was serene as she looked at him, a tiny smile trying to pick up the corners of her mouth. She was definately seeing him... but it was almost in a surreal way that suggested she was also looking straight through him.

"Miri..." she murmured in a pleasant hum that brought on wild imaginings of... well... Erik wasn't entirely certain, honestly. But it was much like her tone after their performances together... something that revealld utter bliss. He stared at her, dumbfounded, as she slowly lifted a hand and reached out to brush it across his cheek. "Pakvora..."

Erik's eyes widened and he placed his hand quickly ovre hers. If she was callin him 'beautiful' then maybe she wasn't nearly as lucid as she appeared.

"Mira kom..." he whispered back uncertainly; trying to beat down the flare of hope her eyes had ignited in him.

But she didn't say anything else. Her smile grew for a moment, and then her eyes slowly slipped shut again. Erik waited, holding his breath the entire time... but when her arm went limp only his hand over hers kept it in place against his mask. He was too afraid to relax his breath... afraid to make the world continue on for evn one more moment. Everything simply hung in the air around him while Tsifia crept closer to them from her all-too-clear observational spot moments before.

"Erik...?" she asked uneasily. "Erik... did she just..."

Slowly, Erik bit his lip and closed his eyes, curling his fingers around Arabella's and bringing the tips to his mouth.

She'd stopped breathing...

"Erik?" Tsifia pressed, real fear welling up in her usually steady voice.

Erik shook his had in denial, his hand clamping around his wife's so hard that he nearly shattered bones.

No, no, no, no, nononono no NO!

His grandmother-in-law burst into sudden motion; moving much more spryly than he'd suspected she was ever capable of, to crouch just on the other side of his wife and press her fingers to Arabella's chest - where his hand had fallen away. There was a low keening in the air, but he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. It sounded like a wild animal caught in a snare. Slowly he forced his eyes back open to see Tsifia jerk away from the body with a moan much too different than the continued keening for it to have been coming from her. It allowed him to see Arabella again, her body so much more relaxe than it had ever been.

For the first time, he understood the word 'lifeless'. With Aria, there had been no life to compare it to. But with Arabella... it was much much much too clear what an empty vessel looked like that had once been thriving with life.

The keening grew louder and shriller, and as it did a strange mass of purple-blue blotches pulsed over his vision. He'd experienced extreme headaches with such symptoms in his past; and it was only the sudden onset of them that made him realize the kening was coming from him. In an effort to control himself; he suddenly jerked violently away from the thing that had once been living. He didn't want to remain in view of all the tribe, who were standing and coming closer out of curious grief and relief. There was no relief for him. And standing over the shell that had once been a living, breathing human... his wife... made that all the clearer.

People were beginning to openly cry out around him; far louder and more dramatically than he thought they had any right to. He supposed that meant he had every right to keen and fall apart as they did... but he couldn't do it. He couldn't be seen like that by these strangers. He couldn't fall apart over a body that had nothing to do with the woman he'd loved so much.

With a moan, he whirled and nearly tripped in his effort to escape as the tribe began circling the area. He didn't know what to expect from them next. Tsifia and Anton had only explained so far as Arabella's actual death. Oh, he was aware that items would need to be discarded in different ways at some point; but he had no idea how or when. He just knew he had to get away... he couldn't think about it on top of the thing that was clawing its way loose from the bowels of his very soul.

"Erik!" Anton called, the older mans' voice cracked with emotion.

No...

There was absolutely nothing for him at that pallet now. Nothing could make him turn around. He went straight passed the tent he'd shared for such a brief length of time with his wife... into the woods... and kept going until his very grief tripped him over a fallen tree branch. It was there he remained while his entire body shook ad nearly tore apart with the denial and grief warring within him.