Chapter 4

Not one to disappoint, Drosselmeyer once again appeared behind Fakir's eyelids while he slept. "Good Evening, my boy. Am I to understand that you are having second thoughts about rejecting me yet again?" The old man's features were twisted into what Fakir figured was supposed to be an impish grin.

"Not likely," Fakir huffed. "I'd much rather a sword rip me in two again…" Fakir begged is unresponsive body to wake up, for he was whittling away very quickly now. It would only be a matter of time before he caved, but Fakir was willing to squirm until that day came.

"I can arrange that, my boy. Or have you forgotten that little tidbit about your life?" Drosselmeyer was suddenly everywhere at once. His face appeared only inches from Fakir, but the old man was also hovering several feet away.

"What's your ploy to nab me this time, old man," Fakir asked in what he hoped was a menacing tone.

"I'm going to show you something, my boy," The wizard's clockwork eyes glowed mischievously. "I know for a fact that after you have seen what I am to show you, you will accept my terms. Trust me, my boy. You are my puppet, just as young Duck was."

"When are you going to understand, old man? I'm not going to succumb to your whims, no matter what ideas you throw into my head. Give it up, nothing you show me will be worth it." Fakir screamed out in his sleep.

"We'll see, my boy, we'll see…" The wizard's laugh was cold and evil; it filled Fakir's mind to bursting.

All of a sudden, the images behind Fakir's closed eyelids swirled into one mass of color. He could not distinguish anything he saw. He cried out yet again, his voice raw and unrecognizable, and then everything came to a halt.

He stood once again on the dock that overlooked the small pond that is now Duck's home. He searched the water with his eyes for her, but he could not see her.

"Duck?" Fakir called out. When no response came, he called out again. "Duck! Where are you? It's Fakir!" Fakir raced to the grassy bank to the right of the dock.

A head popped out from behind a bush, a familiar head, just a few yards from where he stood. Duck was standing before him, and she was stark naked…

"Fakir?" Duck's face lit up in a huge grin. She rounded the corner and started running to him, completely unaware of her nudeness. Fakir turned his face away for a split second and when he turned it back, everything was black again.

"Well, well, my boy, what do you think," Drosselmeyer appeared before Fakir again. "I can make that happen. I can bring our young Duck back; she'll be with you once more. All you have to do is give me your gift…"

Fakir stood in shock, staring at the place where Duck had popped out of the bushes. Was it really that easy? Could Fakir really have his Duck back? Fakir turned to the old man, his eyes wistful and shining. "Listen up old man; you have no right to play with my heart. You were stripped of your powers after what you did to Duck. I don't want you to have that power over me as well," The old man made to speak, but Fakir cut him off. "But, I am willing to make a deal with you…on my terms, that is."

"My dear boy, that isn't an option. I've already given you my proposition. I'll give you a reminder: You give me your gift to write which will replace my gift that was so wrongly taken from me," Fakir scoffed at this. Drosselmeyer gave him a crude look. "Then, I will give Duck her human form, with some neatly placed garments, and thus you'll have your significant other by your side once more…" Fakir heard the wizard mumble something under his breath, but didn't think twice about it.

All he had to do was give up his gift to write, something with which he always found comfort, and he'd have Duck back, someone who he loved more than anything. It really wasn't a hard decision, he wanted Duck, but he hated giving Drosselmeyer the upper hand.

"Can I ask you something, my boy," Drosselmeyer floated closer to Fakir.

"I suppose. What is it?"

"Have you ever felt this way about anyone, Fakir," Drosselmeyer asked, surprising Fakir by using his actual name.

"Honestly…no, I haven't. But what does that have to do with anything?" Fakir was becoming impatient and he wasn't sure if he could stand another second in the presence of this deranged old man.

"My boy, love has to do with everything. I'm surprised you don't know that already, what with how you cared for Prince Mytho." It looked as if the wizard's eyes softened, if cogs could soften in a clock.

"Don't you dare bring him into this, too," Fakir snapped angrily. It still hurt that Mytho had left with that harlot. "You've messed up enough already, now just leave me alone."

Ringing laughter echoed through Fakir's head. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat dripping over every inch of his skin. Damn that conniving fool! Fakir turned sharply in his bed and slammed his fist into the wall behind him. He shouted in pain and curled into a ball. He rocked back and forth on his bed, silent tears running down his face, until the sun rose well into the sky.