So in Chapter 42: Why You, crap went doqn and Grace left. Sorry for what ensues.

    In one day the Treacles and Rodger managed to pack up and buy their tickets back to the States.

  And Rodger, unbeknownst to Grace, managed to sneak down to the Opera House.

   And they were on their way.

   Grace was silent the entire time, packing her things up with a speed one would not think her small body capable of possessing. Leo never strayed from her side. He stopped eating to be with her, to keep his head in her lap, or his paw somewhere on her. She had his food brought to him on the ship, not wanting him to waste away as she had began to.

   Erik was a mess and now she was staring to mirror him. Gaunt and shadow-eyed.

   Now, on the second night of the voyage, she sat leaning against a dresser in her cabin, skirts strewn on the floor, Leo making his bed on them as she sat with silent rings of wetness coating her eyes. She cried silently, with no emotion.

   Rodger came into her room, hands on his hips then, without knocking. He had been sent to see why Grace had not cone to dinner. He scooted her over so he was inbetween the dresser an her.

   "You know I was not ready to leave yet. I had three new suits being made by one of your fancy French designers and I had only gone for two fittings. Now they'll be shipped to Georgia and who knows if they'll fit right," he said in the whiniest voice he could muster.

  She remained silent, the treacherous tears that had been sliding down her face for the past few days were the only insight to her feelings.

  "Ah Gracie," Rodger shook head. "Come here, tell old Rodge what the trouble is." He lifted his arm for her to slide over.

   She tucked herself against his chest, hiding her wet face in his shirt so that she didn't have to look at him when she was ready to speak.

  His arms settled around her and he waited. He knew what heartache felt like after all.

"Nothing is wrong," she said.

  Rodger tried to stiffle his laugh but she felt it spasm through his chest anyway, shaking her.

   He sighed. "You loved him and it didn't work out right?"

  "Yes."

   "It was your employer, manager, instructor, and friend? The man who raised you for a few months. Took the time to find your mother's grave. And paid thirty thousand francs to buy a bunch of prostitutes who meant nothing to him and find them lodgings?"

  "He doesn't love me. And it's not love, it can't be love. Love doesn't hurt," she sobbed.

   "Shh, love does hurt. To love is to embrace pain. Love is wonderful, you just have felt the dark side of it."

  "No."

  "You always felt the dark side of it."

  "No."

  "Yes you did. You felt pain when your mother died. And I'm sorry for referencing your past. But you felt pain then. And when Leo was howling as his leg dragged behind him after the accident. That hurt you."

  "Yes. Yes, I did love him. But now everything is over and I want to forget."

   "Forgetting is not easy."

    She wiped her nose and looked up at him. "How do you know?"

   He smiled sadly. "You're not the only one leaving your heart with a seductive, maddening Parisian."

  "Oh, Rodge. I'm sorry." She tightened her arms around his torso. "All this time I've just been thinking about myself. Who was it?"

   "Guy."

   Grace froze. "He's... but he was always with Véronique or another girl."

  "He was denying it. I was helping him and then we were found out and to save himself he blamed me."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay. That's why I play thia game. It hurts but ot can get better. And it is fun while it lasts. But what do you say to being broken hearted together, hmm? Let's go eat a pile of cookies and cry while we share funny storiea and what we loved about our lovers. I bet we can finally discuss the sexual escapades we've had. He seemed quite passionate. And cookies make everything seem sugary."

  "I'm not hungry, Rodger." She pushed herself away from him. "I'm not hungry and I don't want to gossip. Or think."

  "You haven't eaten in days. You barely drink water."

  "Please just give me sometime."

  "You need to face it sometime, Grace. You always run from your past, and you are going to run put of breath at some point. It's really going to hurt then."

   A long pause ensued between the friends. They had never had an argument before - or a real one at least.

  "I'm sorry Grace."

  "No. It's not Grave anymore. You're right. So was he. He said the same thing when it happened. So from now on, I'm Celine."

                              🌹

   Erik was a wreck. He couldn't eat and he couldn't sleep. Or, more than usual. He hadn't really eaten or slept before, but now he did nothing of either kind. All he felt was an emptiness. A deep emptiness, like a valve of his heart had been removed and he could still feel the ghost of it, see its shadow. He needed her. But she didn't want him. He was a monster. Why should he force his company on her? Why ruin her more? How could he even like her to begin with. Was it not unnatural, that a man would grow to love the woman who he had once been ready to accept as the equivalent of his daughter? What if she had grown and he had loved her... no, even his morals, low and weak as they were would not have stood for that. And more importantly, she was broken. He wanted something beautiful and whole. Yet her shattered, flat outline haunted him. She was a dull, edgeless picture in his mind that was somehow beautiful to him, when in reality, it was almost below average. He was confused. He was in pain. He could lie in bed, wide awake for hours and stare at nothing and still she would be the only dreamland he made it to. He missed her so much. Her laugh. Her scolding. Her somber moods and playful teasing. And more recently, the sweetness of her loving looks, her tender touches, smiling lips that always welcomed his. Never had a woman so loved him, nor wanted to touch him or show hom affection. No human being did. She had seen his face too, and still wanted him. Still touched and kissed him. Still graced him with her smile and love. But then she had left. He had pushed her too far. She had provoked his monstrous side into the light at the same moment his inecurities had made his nerves shot, and she had angered him. The most horrible pain of though, that topped his unsatiable need for her presence, the greedy lust for her voice and smile, was the knowledge that he had hurt her. He had promised her even as a child. Again when he had hovered over her, wrestling her fear down at that brothel. He said he'd never harm her. He had now harmed her and it was killing him. He loved her so much.

  Perhaps her friend waa correct. Maybe she needed him too. She might not mind a visit. Or she might throw knives at him but it was worth the risk. This was his Grace, his love. The ridiculous woman who caused him hell and tormented him without actually being with him.