My Beta Amy is a marvelous woman! You are marvelous for reading my story and reviewing as well. I now accept unsigned reviews, but I do like knowing who you are.

Re-cap: Gabrielle has left the manor for greener pastures (or so she thinks). She is hiding from Erik and has spent the night under a pine tree in the woods (yes, she will have some 'splainin' to do when Erik get to her…).

Ch 24 - Falling

The drum corps marching in my brain was quite insistent, and what was that smell? The scent of pine—I pried my sleep riddled eyes open. Of course, now I remember, I'm underneath a majestic white pine on the floor of a French forest—nothing oddball about that, eh? Even with the many layers of winter clothing and my heavy wool cloak, I was shivering; a light snow had fallen sometime during my slumber. What a tangled web, I mused silently. I rolled over and sat up. Yuck, there was pinesap and brown needles all over my black wool cloak. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I contemplated my next move.

Erik would be back, that was a no-brainer. I would have to walk to the other side of the woods and hope to hitch a ride on another road. I think it eventually led to Brussels, but I no longer cared where it went, as long as I could find a town with a train station and be free of Paris.

I thought of Erik. I though of what life with him would be like. There was the enigmatic Erik, aloof and mysterious. Then there was the good Erik, brilliant and passionate, with compassion toward women and children. Then there was the scary Erik; the phantom Erik. Volatile, angry and irrational, his unpredictability frightened and angered me. I could understand how a life of solitude might dull his senses to the needs of others, but how could Erik take me as his lover one moment, then hunt me like prey the next?

Was it merely his lack of social interaction, combined with the cruelties heaped upon him as a child, or was it my fault? I bore no delusions of understanding even the typical nineteenth century male. Hell, most days I didn't understand the twenty-first century male.

Dear God, I prayed, please, can't I just click my heels together, recite there's no place like home a few times, and wake up in Chicago…or Kansas?

I wasn't going to be picky, as long as the year was 2006.

Right—and pigs are going to fly out of my navel too. Let's go girlie. I stood, brushed the pine-goo from my cloak, and dragged my large carry on bag from underneath the tree. The sun shone through the high bare branches, highlighting the snow that had made its way onto the forest floor.

It took my eyes some moments to adjust to the brightness. I began to walk stiffly in the direction of the opposite side of the woods when I heard voices and dogs. Holy crap! I tried to run, but instead tripped on a fallen branch. The last thing I remember is crying out in pain as I lurched forward.

Cold—I was so cold, freezing in fact. There was motion too. The surface beneath me rumbled roughly, like riding in a child's wagon over a gravel road. The smell of hay permeated my nostrils, and when I opened my eyes I saw only sparkling blue sky.

The last time I fell and blacked out, I awoke in another century. I groaned, attempting to sit up, which only caused me pain. Feeling nauseous, I closed my eyes again.

The wooden wagon stopped, and I heard an unfamiliar man's voice say, "Wait right here Jacques, I will ring the bell." Something jumped on the wagon next to me and licked me in the face. I jerked my eyes open to the curious eyes of a huge black and tan hound. "Good dog, nice dog, now, go, shoo," I muttered to the hound while weakly stroking his head, then I lay back in the damp hay, and nearly lost consciousness.

Somewhere, a door creaked open and I head Marie Roux's voice, "Good Monsieur, what business brings you here today?"

"Dear Madame, we do not wish to be a bother, but my brother and I were hunting in the woods. We live on the farm four miles down the road, toward Paris, and well— Cornelius, that is my dog, discovered a young woman unconscious in the snow. She appears to have a considerable lump on her noggin. Yours is the first residence along the way, therefore, we thought to begin checking for her relatives at your door. Do you know her? She may well require urgent medical attention."

"Here, in the game wagon," said the man.

I heard soft footsteps and the swishing of skirts, then silence. A frantic Marie started yelling, "Henri, Monsieur DuPuis, come quick—Gabrielle, she is hurt!"

Peachy, I had returned to hell, 1877.

"What is the matter, Marie?" Henri's concerned voice cried out.

"In the wagon, it is Gabrielle! She must have been walking and fallen! Monsieur DuPuis, please!" Her pleas became more insistent.

Suddenly Erik's booming tenor broke through the din. "Out of the way Madame. Who are you, where did you find her?" he demanded of my rescuers.

"In the woods Monsieur. We were hunting when we found her unconscious in the snow. She is alive, but barley conscious, and very cold."

I felt Henry's gentle old hands stroking my brow, checking my pulse. "Her pulse is slow, Monsieur DuPuis; we must get her inside now, hurry!"

Erik's strong hands hauled me out of the wooden cart. He began issuing orders, "Her lips are the color of slate, and she is shivering profusely. Hypothermia may have already set in. Marie, run a warm bath and find her flannel nightclothes; make haste."

"Henri, deal with these men please."

"Indeed monsieur, I'll fetch her bag too."

He carried me up the stairs and into the water closet. "Monsieur, it is not be proper for you to be in here with her," I heard Marie caution.

"There is no time for modesty, Marie. Fetch her warmest nightclothes, post haste."

"As you wish," she tisked. I heard her heels clicking down the hall toward my bedroom.

Erik sat me against the door and began to undress me. I flailed like a rag doll as he peeled off layers of clothing. With only my chemise and scanty underwear left on, he lifted me up and gently placed me in the warm water. My head lolled back against the edge of the tub. Erik cradled my neck with his arm and used his other hand to squeeze warm water from a washcloth over the top of my head and brow.

"Gabrielle," he exhaled, "what have you done, child? Why do you run from me? I would never hurt you, never. "

Gently, Erik slapped my face attempting to bring me to. "Please wake up."

"So cold," I whimpered weakly.

"Yes, yes, I know, Marie and I will warm you. Stay with me now."

"Oh, what misfortune have I once again wrought? I do not deserve the company of good people."

I began to feel the blood flowing through my body. My eyes fluttered open slightly, revealing a blurry Erik hunched over the tub, smoothing warm water over my neck and shoulders.

"Erik," I mumbled weakly.

I heard him draw in a sharp breath. He put a hand on each side of my face and tilted it up toward him, "Gabrielle, can you hear me?"

"Umm," I moaned.

"Thank God. You have a nasty bump on your forehead, scratches on your face, and your right ankle is swollen. What happened to you?"

"I heard people in the woods, I ran to hide, tripped, passed out…I'm freezing and my head hurts terribly. Will I be ok?"

"Time will tell dear. You were on the verge of hypothermia when the hunter's dog found you. You should be fine, providing it is possible to raise your body temperature. If not, it's off to the hospital in Paris with you," Erik looked concerned.

I heard the door creak open and Marie's worried voice, "Here Erik, give her this, if she will drink it. The hot tea will help warm her. How is she, monsieur?"

"Lucid but still cold. Is that right Gabrielle? You do not feel the warmth from the bath water yet?"

"N-no," I said through chattering teeth. Every nerve in my body felt raw with cold.

"Drink this if you can," Erik held the china cup to my lips and I took quick sips of the hot tea, rapidly finishing the cup's contents. Marie hurried off to bring up a pot of the beverage.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the tub, Erik was moving away from me. I heard the squeak of the faucet; he was filling the tub with as much additional hot water as the basin would hold.

"You must have been dreadfully frightened of me for you to run so. Where were you running to?" he asked.

"Away, anywhere I might find employment and lodging." Culling up strength, I pled my case, "I must have a life Erik; I am not the kept-woman kind of girl."

"I know," he said quietly. Forgive me; please forgive me, can you? I am incredibly ill prepared to deal with conflict when it is someone I—I care for. In the past, my method was to fight or flee. With you it is not cut and dried. Mankind perplexes me; womankind perplexes me more."

"I do not want to be a prisoner in your home, Erik."

"Nor do I wish to keep you as one, Gabrielle." He kissed the hand he had been washing.

Naturally, a man of his era would want to protect a woman from harm. I wasn't afraid of his intent as much as his reaction to what he did not deem appropriate. Erik was controlling, but I supposed it was the only successful method he had found for getting what he wanted.

Thinking back what I had learned about the man, I realized he had never attempted to control or manipulate my spirit. Erik's intensity did alarm me at times and I did not always understand his intentions, but hey, ours was an unusual arrangement in a myriad of ways. I cared for him more that I feared him. I supposed that we would often confound one another regardless of what century we were from. Was he worth the effort? Oh yeah, and he deserved to be treated as such. I had to be careful in my relationship with Erik, but I did not have to be dense.

And here he was, this stoic gentleman, humbly washing my frozen body and kissing my hand.

The only warmth I felt was from the tears sliding down my cheeks. I cried for my loss, for the nearly inconsolable fear in my heart. I cried for Erik, for how he had been cheated by life, for his confusion and his sorrow. He was not a bad man; I knew he would never harm me. But I also understood that learning to love with trust would be complicated for him.

I raised my hand up to stroke his face. "I'm feeling warmer now; can I get out of the water?"

"If you are sure you are warmer, I will have Marie take your temperature to see how it has risen. Are you able to stand? Of course not, your ankle is bruised. Here," he removed his shirt, pulled the drain plug and reached into the tub to lift me out. Erik placed me on the floor, and sat me on a small vanity chair. He was helping me pull off my wet undergarments when Marie rapped on the door, "I have more tea, how is she?"

"Take the tea to her room. Gabrielle's temperature will need to be checked as well," Erik directed through the closed door.

He assisted me in drying off, politely averting his eyes the best he could, then lifted my arms up so I could slide into my flannel old lady nightgown. He bent down to pick me up again.

"Put your arms around my neck, there, hold on to me dear," I was carried down the hall to my room where Marie had pulled back the bed covers. Erik lay me down, and then pulled the pile of blankets and quilts up to my neck.

Marie nearly pushed him out of the way so she could stick the mercury thermometer in my mouth, "Now be still until I remove it."

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back into the mountain of goose down pillows. With fatigue tugging at me, it was a struggle to keep the instrument still in my mouth. Old-time mercury thermometers weren't large, but they were heavier than the ones pediatricians used when I was a kid.

Marie checked her watch, satisfied that enough time had passed. She plucked the thermometer from my mouth and scrutinized it closely. "36.4 °C," she announced, looking up at Erik.

"Her temperature is barely acceptable, it needs to rise. Come Gabrielle, do not go to sleep, sit up and drink more of this tea," Erik insisted.

I obeyed, and sat up. Erik picked up the teapot from the bedside table, poured a cup and handed it to me.

I smiled weakly and consumed the hot liquid. Unlike the first cup, I felt the warmth from this one spreading throughout my body as I drank. Looking up from my cup, I noticed Marie and Erik watching me expectantly.

"I'm feeling much better now, really, forgive me for worrying you so. Next time I go for a walk in the woods, I'll stay closer to the property, I promise," I said this mostly for Marie's benefit. There was no need for her to know about the conflict that had erupted under her roof.

"I will stay by her side tonight Marie, you rest. In the morning when Gabrielle is warmer, I will wrap her sprained ankle. Go now. You know I am able and well versed in basic medicine. If her condition worsens, I shall alert you that I am taking her into Paris for further treatment."

She gave Erik an alarmed glance, "Yes, if you are certain, monsieur."

"I am certain, Goodnight Marie."

"And to you, Monsieur DuPuis," she gave us a short nod and left the room. Erik pulled the desk chair up to my bedside. His hand came to rest on top of mine, "Don't," I mumbled, brushing his off and turning from him.

Silence, then the sound of the chair being pushed violently across the floor. I could hear him pacing the room.

Shyly, I turned to see him glowering at his reflection in the room's full-length mirror. Turning abruptly and stalking back to my bedside, he spoke.

"How dare you engage me in your little web of deception, leading me to believe you wanted to be here with me. You must have been in desperate need to bed a gargoyle, Mademoiselle." His voice had taken on a maliciously honeyed tone. Moving closer, he continued, "Let this be a warning; those who toy with Erik, suffer grave consequences."

"Wh-what? Where is this coming from? Have you misplaced your marbles Erik? The only one in this room playing games is the one who forgot to say farewell to the woman who gave him intense sexual pleasure a few nights ago. Or does the occurrence escape your mind Monsieur? I was truly hurt by your nonchalance, Erik. I felt used."

Erik sat back and stared at the fringe on the bed's canopy. He appeared to be considering my words, "If you felt so abused," he said meeting my eyes, "then why did you feel the need to embark on a clandestine outing with Madame Spencer? You must have sensed I would disapprove."

He had me there. "I wanted to go out, and I didn't want to argue should you give me a hard time about going, that's why."

"And why do you suspect I would disapprove? Keeping you like a caged bird is not my intent dear. While your century may be more evolved than ours, the one that you now reside in holds its fair share of treacherous villains whose only vocation is to prey on unsuspecting men and women. Evil lurks on the streets of Paris. Can you not see this Gabrielle, or are you too stubborn?"

"Hello kettle? This is the pot, you're black…sheesh Erik, your name is in the dictionary under the word stubborn."

With this remark he gritted his teeth. "I am merely concerned for your well being woman. Your insolence annoys me!"

I'm not sure why it happened, but this remark tickled me, causing a tiny smirk to creep upon my lips. "Erik, I'm sorry for making you worry. I wasn't thinking. You're correct, there is still much I don't comprehend about my surroundings. I am sorry to have worried you."

Was this me backing down? I wondered what spell had been cast upon me.

Erik's face fell, and he sighed heavily, "Gabrielle, you make me feel again; I don't know how to handle such emotions. Living with Erik is like living with a cancer; disgusting, destructive, and unwelcome. This is why I cannot share a life with anyone."

"Erik, lord knows you have scads of emotional scar tissue to deal with, but you are not a cancer. You are a caring and passionate human being, capable of wondrous things."

He placed his elbows on the arms of the chair, slumped forward, and buried his head in his hands. "Oh Gabrielle," he moaned. "You have no idea how deeply embedded the blackness in my soul is. I am a wretched, wretched, man. I do not deserve a moment of your empathy or affection."

I reached out and touched his knee in consolation, "Oh, Erik, you deserve more than affection from me, you deserve my respect, although I have not treated you with it these past few days have I? Look here, all people have a measure of darkness in their souls. Nothing is unforgivable. Besides, you haven't harmed me; frightened me some, but not harmed."

He absentmindedly ran his hand over the edge of his mask, "My intent was never to harm you Mademoiselle. It was imperative that you stop and listen to my directives. Reason has seldom worked well for me; that is why I choose physical action to attain my goals."

"Um, you might want to work on that, most women don't appreciate being manhandled. Well maybe in the bedroom…"

He raised his head and looked at me curiously.

"Just a hint of levity to lighten the mood, but no, women generally do not respond well to a heavy hand. Good advice to heed in your relations with the fairer sex, Erik."

"You would not be the first woman to convey such wisdom to me," he responded soberly.

I grasped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You know what I think a big part of our problem is, Erik? We're simply on a different page right now, that's all. In time you and I can learn to communicate on a more parallel level," I added hoping to appeal to the architect in him.

"Hey, look at me babe," I eased his head up to face me. "Misunderstandings can be cleared and wounds healed. I would like to get to know you better, to grow closer; you don't have to tell me more than you want to divulge, but I require your trust in my intentions. When you don't understand something I have or have not done, tell me, don't assume. I know you have dealt with nothing but hot and cold running assholes your entire life, but as a rule, I am not one, at least not on purpose."

His eyes met mine, and he cleared his throat, "Gabrielle, I am bereft of words to say. You are a curious woman, but I trust you more than most people. I cannot deny my feelings for you; but to act upon them, that is the only thing in this world that frightens me. You see; these relationships, as you call them, do not end well for me. I am not sure such conventional privileges are meant for the likes of me."

Erik released my hand, stood and walked to my writing desk. He picked up the bottle of jasmine massage oil I had used the night I massaged his sore muscles. A small, lonely smile appeared on his lips as he rolled the bottle around in his hands.

"Erik," I called from the bed, "You know what I think? I think I'd rather try and fail in love than not try at all. Relationships aren't easy, but if you find the right person, it can be worthwhile. Compare it to your music. It often takes you a long, long time to complete a score, am I correct?"

"Quite," he nodded in agreement.

"OK, so you're in your music room, your creative juices are flowing and you're writing like a wild man, then poof, there goes the inspiration. You walk away for a while hoping a break will help revive your mind, but it doesn't. You write some more, but you hate it, crumple up the parchment in frustration, and toss it away. This frustrating process keeps up until finally, viola, it all clicks and you compose the most beautiful music of your career."

The bottle of jasmine oil slipped from his fingers and rolled to the floor. Erik turned and stared at me. His narrowed eyes and slight pout,communicatedconfusion.

"What I mean is, you don't give up your music simply because it's occasionally difficult do you?"

"No, that would be highly illogical."

"Love is like that too, Erik. Highly illogical."

- O -

There you are. Warm chocolate brownies to all who plan to review. Cookies for the rest of you too. Just a note: If you have been affected by the Katrina disaster in the Gulf, my thoughts and prayers are with you. Peace - Leesa