A/N: well this proved more fun than a bag full of wigs so I suppose I shall carry on since now I have some more ideas!

Erik slid around the corner, keeping close to the wall as he crept along on barefoot, now that there was probably no one awake he felt the itch to go exploring. He hadn't realized just how large the house was until he tried to map it out in his head; which soon proved impossible so he chose instead to number the rooms as he went.

1. Bedroom he was in

2. Bathroom he had been in already (despite curiosity, the mirror kept him away)

3. A room with a big desk and fireplace

4. Bedroom

5. Bedroom

6. Bedroom

7. Room with huge glass windows

8. Another bedroom with someone in it (asleep thankfully)

9. Bathroom only this one didn't have the large tub like the other one

10. . . . closet with cleaning things in it.

Erik soon lost interest in trying to count the rooms and this was only on the top floor! He found the stairs again, running his fingers lightly over the highly-polished wood, tracing the delicate lines of the grain as he went down the carpeted stairs.

He peeked around the corner of the stairwell and into another large room, this one was full of . . . things. Erik immediately began to pick up objects and run his fingers over them curiously, some were quite odd. For example, there was a large ball in a stand that turned in every direction and had different colored splotches painted on it with symbols on each blob, Erik spun it several times, thoroughly enjoying how the colors almost melded when it went fast enough. He found something that looked like a small closet but instead of brooms or coats in it there was a gold disc that swung back and forth, it was mesmerizing and Erik found himself staring at the shiny object that made a distinct clicking sound each time it made it to either side of the closet. Erik shook his head and moved on, feeling a bit giddy as he went to some shelves with the same objects on them from floor to ceiling.

Erik pulled one object off the shelf and stared at it, it was flat with a soft leather wrapping but only around part of it, He sat down on the floor with it and turned it over in his hands, surprised when it opened up like a box but it wasn't a box, there was no compartment inside, instead there were wafer-thin pieces of paper, very unlike the thick posters the circus had used when they went into a new town. And on the pages were the same symbols that had been on the ball that spun. Erik stared at the symbols, some were joined together and each group was separated from its neighbor by a space. It was vastly confusing because it felt like there must be a reason for having page upon page of these symbols and Erik found himself frustrated with the notion that he didn't understand it at all. He pulled another off the shelf only to find himself confronted with even more symbols. Another and another and another and still they were there, the same ones over and over and Erik felt anger welling up inside, why didn't he understand them? Why were there so many but not one symbol or group of symbols looked familiar? Should they be familiar? Was it a puzzle or a game and he just didn't know the rules?

Erik sat with the stack of things full of symbols and began opening them up randomly, trying to find some correlation between the groups and the long lines of them that would start over with a different leader after a spot or curved line at the end. He pondered them then began to question why this was so important? Why did he want to know so badly what a bunch of nonsense meant? Why did he care at all? He was almost in tears of frustration when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Erik jolted in surprise and snapped the thing shut, he scrambled to his feet and there was Damien, eyebrow raised and the half-smile in place,

"You're up early."

Erik opened his mouth to say something in way of an excuse but nothing came to him, he glanced back at the shelves and realized he'd pulled the first two free of all the flat, perplexing symbol pages.

"Reading, were you?" Damien crossed the room and picked up a book, "I didn't figure you for a de Balzac man."

"Reading?" Erik blinked and moved closer, peering up at the Comte as the man's eyes moved back and forth along one of the pages of the book.

Damien looked up, "Yes, you've pulled nearly all the books off my shelves, I-" He stopped himself as Erik's eyebrows knit together, " . . . Can you read?"

Erik flushed a bit, he didn't know what was being asked of him, could he? He wasn't quite sure what was meant by the question, he hadn't even known the objects were called 'books' until just now, whatever they were, "I don't know."

Erik felt his frustration again, saying that phrase felt odd, it felt wrong somehow and he felt stupid that he either didn't understand what Damien was asking or what it was this 'reading' was but then how could he?

Damien cocked his head to the side and held the book out with the pages facing Erik, pointing at a line of symbols, "Do you know what this means?"

Erik squinted at the line but tried to keep his head down at the same time, Damien was looking at him expectantly and suddenly this felt like the single most important thing in the world to know. He . . . he liked Damien and he didn't want to disappoint the man, this of course didn't mean that Erik was going to move any closer than the space he'd created by stepping back a few paces. But, alas, as he moved his eyes over the line several times, he didn't know and he sadly shook his head because there was a lump in his throat and he couldn't seem to get any words past it.

"No? Then what were you doing?" Damien knelt down and began putting the books back on the shelf.

Erik didn't know how to answer that one either, what had he been doing? Now that he knew that Damien knew what the symbols were and what the 'books' were for he felt stupid in admitting that he had sat there struggling with the symbols in a vain attempt to force them to make sense. His shoulders slumped and his eyes stung, this felt . . . wrong, he suddenly didn't like not knowing something someone else knew, he wanted to know and understand and not having that knowledge hurt.

"Erik?"

Erik lifted his eyes a little and caught site of Damien's look of . . . concern? He faltered a bit, he was unused to someone looking at him like that . . .

"Erik, are you alright?" Damien tried to move closer but Erik only pulled back another step, this made a flicker of temper flash in Damien's eyes but he sighed and it went away, "Erik, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Just tell me what's wrong."

Erik's eyes flitted from Damien to the door and back, he backed up another step, not out of fear he just needed a little more space to think better but he was disarmed by Damien's continued look of concern and he found himself considering things like admitting to how upset not understanding and knowing made him. He opened his mouth once then closed it and tried again,

"What . . . what does it mean?" He asked softly.

Damien blinked then picked the book up again, flipping to a page, "It's a story, Erik, a book has a story in it."

"How?" Erik peered at the book.

Damien opened his mouth a few times then shook his head, "I do not know how to explain it. Perhaps we shall have to teach you to read and then you will see for yourself."

Erik blinked, "Someone would teach me to read?" He shifted his weight slightly, "I don't . . . Who?"

"Robért's tutor could, if you were so inclined to sit in on the lessons. In fact, I think that's a splendid idea, I'll inform him tomorrow and you can begin immediately." Damien nodded to himself in satisfaction as he put the other books on the shelves, "Though I think you'll find some of Robért's books more enjoyable and age-appropriate, these are a bit daunting, even for me."

Erik muddled through more unexpected feelings, he had yet to meet Robért and was uncertain as to how he should feel at this point about meeting new people, or how they would feel about meeting him for that matter,

"But . . . " Erik bit his lip.

"Yes?" Damien glanced around at the child.

"What about . . . " He gestured to his face vaguely, he was conscious of the fact that since Damien had entered the room he had kept his head down or slightly to the side out of his own apprehensions, only just discovering that night as to why he'd been where he'd been the past years.

Damien blinked for a moment then smiled gently, "You have nothing to worry about."

"How can you say that?" Erik snapped, anger once more rearing its head and he glared up at Damien, "Look at me! I'm-"

"I am looking at you and I can assure you, with Robért you have nothing to be- "

"Papa?"

They both turned to the doorway and Erik quickly hid himself as best he could as a small boy moved into the room,

"Who are you talking to?" The boy stood close to the book's shelves and had a hand on them but didn't look like he was going to take any down, he was just . . . touching them.

"Good morning, petit faon," Damien moved in front of the . . . fawn? And put his hand on his shoulder, gently maneuvering the boy to stand directly in front of him and a few paces from where Erik was pressing himself into a corner, "Robért, this is Erik, he's going to be living with us for a while."

"Oh. Well, hello then, Erik." Robért smiled and started to move forward with his hand outstretched.

Erik was about to bolt when he got a good look at the boy. Robért was blind. He could have kicked himself for not coming to that conclusion earlier but it was now quite obvious. The younger boy's eyes were pale and were focused on a spot on the opposite wall. It was so strange, Erik had never actually known any blind people but the older Gypsies in the circus lost their sight and had to be lead around so he knew what it meant to be blind and he knew now that Robért could not, in fact, see him.

Despite watching the child intently, Erik still jumped a bit when the hand touched his arm and then moved down to his hand, grasping it firmly in a handshake before releasing it and stepping back a few paces.

And this is where it truly began to get interesting.

Erik followed Robért about the house, the boy's cane tapping against objects as he moved it back and forth rhythmically with his own steps. It was as mesmerizing as the swinging thing in the closet that Damien explained was called a 'clock' and kept 'time' for them. Erik wasn't certain why they would store something inside the closet with that disc moving about so much but he didn't really care, he was more interested in the fawn.

Robért stopped walking and looked over his shoulder for a moment in Erik's direction, " . . . what?"

"Nothing." Erik said quickly, backing up a step, he knew he liked his space so maybe the fawn wanted his too and perhaps he was disturbing Robért by being so very close.

" . . . " Robért scrunched his nose up and turned around, resting the top of his cane under his chin and putting his jaw forward in a rather comical expression, "Is there something you want to ask me, Erik?"

"No." Erik lied, he actually had a multitude of questions but he didn't want to encroach upon another person like that in the same way he did not think he would care for too many questions.

"Are you sure?" The boy pressed, his eyebrow arching in a mirror of his father's normal expression.

Erik hesitated and looked more closely at Robért. The fawn was really a spitting image of his father aside from his eyes, he had the same dark hair kept short and facial structure, he was obviously younger than Erik by his height alone, his head coming just under Erik's shoulder, but there was something about him that wasn't his father but someone else, not quite just Robért but not quite apart from him. Erik couldn't put his finger quite on it . . .

"Well . . . " Erik fidgeted, unused to being put on the spot so much, "What can you see?"

Robért actually snorted at the question and crossed his arms, pushing his cane under one armpit, "Nothing."

"What?" Erik's eyes widened slightly, "What do you mean, 'nothing'? Surely you must be able to see something."

"No, I can't see anything, its all dark." Robért set his jaw like he expected something.

"But . . . but how do you move about so well?" Erik looked around the expansive dining room with all the chairs and a long table and white plates in cupboards and wine glasses made of delicately thin glass or something similar.

"Because I know where I am and where I am going and I've lived here forever so I know where everything is." Robért shrugged his shoulders and gestured around, "And if I don't know it's there then my cane will find it. Though I don't like it as much since it jabs my belly when I do find something different." Robért grimaced and rubbed his middle a bit.

Erik blinked slowly then narrowed his eyes and got right up in Robért's face, bending down a bit so that they were eye-level, "You can't see me."

"No." Robért backed up an inch as if he knew Erik was closer.

"Then how did you know I was close?" Erik grinned, he'd found a loophole! Robért was obviously lying otherwise he wouldn't have backed up! Erik liked this feeling of knowing better than someone else, it felt . . . good.

"Because I felt you." Robért snapped, narrowing his eyes and balled his hands into fists.

"I didn't touch you." Erik pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

"No, but I can feel you, like I know there's a chair right here and- Look, I don't know how I know I just do, okay?" Robért pouted and glared in Erik's general direction.

Erik grinned wider, practically sneering as he sidestepped and laughed when Robért kept looking in the same direction, "Where am I now?" He taunted, this felt good to be in power for once, to have someone that was powerless to do anything about him.

The fawn's head snapped about in confusion then he turned toward the wall and moved forward, his hand outstretched for it, leaving the cane aside as he touched the wall, "I don't care."

Erik laughed then, "Yes you do, you can't see me and I could do whatever I wanted and there's nothing you could do about it!"

There was no response from Robért then the boy shrugged and turned and started to feel his way out of the room, "I suppose you're right."

Erik blinked, watching the fawn leave the room, it wasn't any fun if Robért didn't get upset or angry . . . he glanced over and spotted the cane that Robért had left behind propped up on a chair. He blinked for a moment then reached over and took it in his hand, he could snap it in half over his knee . . . he could hide it . . . he could do whatever he wanted and Robért would be helpless to stop him. Erik bit his lip slightly because suddenly his game of power wasn't fun, it wasn't exciting to be in power this way, because he remembered how he felt when his face was unmasked and he couldn't stop it. He hefted the cane in one hand and made his way to the door, wandering about until he found the fawn in the Solar, sitting next to a potted plant. Erik hesitated before moving closer and sitting arm's length from Robért and pushed the cane across the floor until it nudged the fawn's leg. Robért didn't jump in surprise, he simply reached down and took it then went back to running his hand over the large purple flower's petals.

"I . . . " Erik bit his lip, "I'm sorry, I was a bully."

The fawn nodded and gestured to the flower, "It's an iris. I only know that because Papa told me so, but I do know exactly what it looks like."

"You can't see." Erik pointed out, but he wasn't being cruel, he was genuinely curious as he watched Robért stroke the petals with his fingertips.

"No, I can't, but my fingers told me what it looks like," Robért explained, looking at Erik, "I can't see anything at all, I've been blind since birth, but its okay because my fingers make the picture I need and everything is okay again."

" . . . what about color?" Erik asked softly, reaching out to touch another of the large blooms, this one was white.

"I don't know color."

Erik's eyes widened, "You don't? Not any color at all?"

"No, I was born blind Erik, I don't know colors. Just darkness." Robért huffed and dropped his hand from the flower, "Don't be difficult on purpose."

"I'm not." Erik defended, he was truly flabbergasted by a person not being able to understand color, something that Erik could lose himself in forever, color and sound and motion and all sorts of things that enthralled him and made him feel safe and happy.

"I like flowers though." The fawn said quickly, changing the subject when the silence stretched uncomfortably, "They all feel different and Papa keeps them here in the Solar for me, like a greenhouse. And, oh, here."

Erik watched Robért move about the room on his knees until his hands found another planter, he ran his hands about until he could find another blossom. Erik saw him wince and pull his hand back then push it forward again toward the dark red folds of another flower's petals,

"This . . . this is a rose. They have thorns so I know which one it is but they don't smell as nice as other flowers, but they feel very nice." Robért leaned forward and dipped his nose among the folded petals.

Erik quickly moved next to the boy, touching the flower, petals, thorns, leaves and indeed it felt so soft and smelled rather bland but it was a beautiful flower nonetheless. Erik put his hand down and sat back against the planter, staring at the fawn as he sat down too,

"Do you wish you could see?"

"Of course."

" . . . I wish you could see the colors." Erik whispered because in all honesty, he didn't want Robért to be able to see, he wished all people were blind and all they talked about were how things felt and sounded and not about how they looked and if they were ugly or pretty, just like the flowers . . .

"Me too." Robért murmured, pulling his knees up, "That's what I wish more than anything, to be able to see my flowers or the sky or the grass . . . but I can't and there's no sense being sad over what I can't have. At least that's what Papa told me when I used to cry about not being able to see. I don't cry anymore about that, but it doesn't mean I don't still wish."

Erik looked at the fawn and he felt something he didn't ever remember feeling before, he felt . . . something. His chest was tight and his mind was whirring with ideas and all he could think about was how he could possibly teach Robért about color.

A/N: For those who are unaware, I am legally blind, I use a cane and everything. I cannot see beyond three feet in front of me and nothing on either side of my head and am almost totally blind in my left eye. So, I know what I'm talking about with Robért and as an artist myself, I know both sides of what's going on in Erik and Robért's heads. (I read a story of two children, one blind and one sighted, where the little sighted girl was trying to describe what a tree looked like to the little blind boy and that's where the flowers came from) I also know how it feels for a sighted person to stop and try to tell me how something looks or feels or moves, it's an experience that i treasure because . . . well imagine not knowing what a flower looks like or color. As for Erik referring to Robért as 'the fawn', Damien calls Robért 'little fawn' in the beginning and Erik just sort of stuck with it. Forgive the long A/N. RnR if you please.