a/n: The recovery for Sophia begins. Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed. I hope the notes I provided to those who asked for them worked out well.

On a completely different note...two of my readers, HDKingsbury and MadLizzy, are posting a story on here under the name HDKingsbury called Gypsy Heart of Darkness that takes characters from my other story trilogy (Heart, Ghost, One Week) and made a fan fic of a fan fic. Please go check it out and leave feedback, especially if you're in the mood for something quirky, perverted and fun. They even have a sequel in the works.

Paladin57

Citrine sat at arm's length from Sophia long after Monsieur Belmont disappeared. "We must return you to your bed," she said gently.

It was difficult not to rub Sophia's back or hold her and protect her, but Citrine allowed her close friend the space she requested and waited for her to respond. There was no other way for her to show Sophia that she cared for her. More than anything, Citrine was grateful that Sophia still allowed her in her house, as she expected that once Monsieur Belmont dragged Karl's body out that Sophia would want to be left alone.

"You'll be more comfortable there, and once you are situated I'll bring you some tea and a bite to eat."

Through her tears, Sophia shook her head and buried her face deeper into the armchair. As she took a deep breath, Citrine saw Karl Turro from the corner of her eye, his face a mask of blood, his body sprawled out on the snow several feet from the door. Seeing him made her wish that Monsieur Belmont hadn't seen her walk in, as Citrine knew that her employer would have killed Turro swiftly. That was as much as that vile pig of a man deserved.

"I'll prepare a compress for you unless you want me to help you stand first," Citrine offered, trying a different approach. "It will lessen the pain you feel."

When Citrine turned her attention back to Sophia, she followed her gaze, which had settled on her attacker. Recoiling visibly, Sophia pulled herself to her feet and wrapped Erik's cloak around her waist.

"Lean on me," Citrine said when Sophia nearly doubled over, cradling her wrist with her hand. Her knuckles were a deep red, and Citrine noticed that one of her fingernails had split lengthwise. There was blood beneath Sophia's nails, which Citrine knew had come from Karl.

"I can walk," Sophia said under her breath, and without another word she hobbled toward the front door.

Citrine beat her there and slammed the door shut, locking it at once. She shook her head, a sympathetic expression on her face.

"Sit in the kitchen with me while I make a compress for you," she suggested. Citrine wrung her hands and pursed her lips. "Do you think you can sit?"

Still Sophia said nothing in return. Clinging to the cape ensuring her modesty, she took small steps into the kitchen while Citrine followed closely behind.

While she kept herself busy in the kitchen, Citrine watched Sophia, who sat with her trembling hands folded beneath the table and her eyes fixed at a distance place on the wall. Finding a half-empty bottle of whisky in one of the cupboards, Citrine added two teaspoons to Sophia's tea in hope that it would calm her nerves.

"I will help you into the tub," Citrine said under her breath as she placed the tea, sweetened with honey to mask the taste of alcohol, before Sophia. "You should wash yourself. It may help to keep you from…something unwanted.

Sophia blinked and glanced up at Citrine, her eyes red and face blotchy. Her expression told Citrine that she didn't understand.

Citrine trained her gaze on her tea cup. "It is possible to conceive your first time, whether you consented or not."

As she continued to sob, Sophia shook her head. "I fought him as hard as I could," she cried into her hands. "I fought him until I knew I was dead."

Citrine sank into her chair beside Sophia and choked back a sob. They both sat in silence, their hands wrapped around their cups of tea and the house growing colder and colder now that there was no fire burning.

Eventually Sophia slumped forward and wearily rested her head against her folded arms. "I should never have opened the door," she said, her voice hoarse.

-o-

Everything was his fault.

Even after he had rounded the corner, Erik still heard Sophia crying and Citrine offering her comfort. Erik had no desire to return home. Over and over he heard Sophia's request, the lashes to his heart deepening each time he replayed her words.

Don't touch me.

His eyes rapidly blinked away tears, the blame he felt for himself making his insides numb. With Fidelio on his heels, Erik sat on a block of wood and placed his head in his hands, ignoring the cold of the night. He deserved to suffer, as even one night of cold was not equal to a mere second of the agony Sophia suffered.

Good intentions were not good enough. While he sat alone, Erik evaluated everything that had happened, finding the different ways he could have kept Sophia safe. If he had insisted that he stayed with her, Karl never would have entered her home. If he had kept a watchful eye on her house, no one would have crept through the night and attacked her. If he hadn't offered Philippe a partnership, Sophia would be safe and Philippe would be alive.

This was his doing, not hers.

The pain Erik thought could not get any worse became increasingly unbearable. Sophia had lost both of her parents and now her brother. She was an orphan, he thought, who would be unable to provide for herself, what with her vision failing. Not only was her sight crippled, but Erik knew that she didn't trust anyone—not even Citrine. What would become of her now?

As he wiped his eyes, Erik looked around, needing something to occupy himself before he went mad. There was nothing on the property that didn't remind him of Sophia. She was this place to him, the comfort he found in his room, the sounds of laughter in the kitchen and the notes played on the piano in the parlor. He was just beginning to know her—really know her—and now he wasn't sure if he would ever have the opportunity to be near her again.

How would he tell her how he felt when she didn't want him near her?

There was not a single corner that would bring him solace now that Sophia had suffered on his property. Her memory was outside the Manor as well as inside. This was where he had cut firewood for Sophia, where he had been stopped and stayed at the Manor on the night he was certain there was no place in the world for him. Such kindness, such innocence had been destroyed. Erik closed his eyes and envisioned her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the expression on her face as she listened to him speak. He wondered if he would ever see her blush again, or hear her laugh coyly in his presence.

Fidelio licked Erik's wrist and garnered his master's attention. There was blood on the dog's chin still, which was all the reminder Erik needed to climb to his feet. He wanted Karl Turro far from her and nothing would bring Erik greater pleasure than sending Sophia's assailant straight to hell.

-o-

Gabe called out to Philippe every few minutes until his throat was raw from yelling. With a second horse tied to his mount's saddle, he sat up in the stirrups and surveyed the stark white landscape.

Before he yelled again, a figure stumbled through the trees and slid halfway down the incline, his feet snagging on snow-covered roots. Gabe jumped from the saddle and walked the horses forward, leaving them both tied to a young tree.

"Gabe," Philippe wheezed as he forced himself to his feet and wobbled toward the waiting horse. "Where is Sophia?"

"She's with Citrine," Philippe said, which was as much as he knew. Before Philippe fell, Gabe grabbed him under the arm and helped him toward the waiting horses. "What happened?"

Relief showed on Philippe's forward as he clung to the saddle's pommel as well as Gabe. Taking a deep breath, his relief turned to anger, and as he clenched his teeth he struggled to mount the waiting horse.

"I'll kill the bastard," Philippe spat. His face was deathly pale, save for the smear of blood across his forehead. "Make haste, Gabe. Karl Turro was here a moment ago…he…have you seen him?"

Gabe looked away briefly and felt Philippe grip his shoulder, demanding answers. "I believe Monsieur Belmont found him."

"Where?"

Lifting into his saddle, Gabe untied the reins to Philippe's horse and handed them to him. "Are you well enough to ride?" Gabe questioned, his concerns growing.

"Gabe, where was Karl Turro found?" Philippe insisted. Both of his hands were wrapped around the pommel to keep him from collapsing.

"I'm not certain," Gabe lied. "I came to find you."