Greetings again from me! I hope you have been enjoying your read for I have been enjoying my writing! Ah, this chapter I felt absolutely satisfied with so enjoy and thank you all for reviewing!! I had a few remarking on Rachel's character and remarking she's getting a little out of it. I can't really say she's getting out of character because I am still working on what her character is. Still, I apologize, and I will try to make my own creations more directly from their blueprints.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom. And niether do you. So HA!

Part Ten:

Thomas had already been over to chat, and Richard had gone back with Rachel to their home one hot, Sunday afternoon. Lark wandered around the house, bored almost to tears. Normally she would be curled up in something cool with a book settled on her lap but…being blind had many faults for her to cope with. She sighed sadly and wished that Thursday would come sooner. Richard had promised, after seeking Erik's permission, to come back to visit them. Even though she knew he had work and had another life to deal with, it was awfully quiet in the small house without him and Rachel clamoring around. Erik had been playing softly in the back round for a few hours now, and she didn't want to bother him just so he could amuse her. He already threw a pen at her when she did try. Lark smiled ruefully and felt her way to her favorite armchair in her room. Rachel had been rather more quiet and solemn before they left, she reflected to herself, sinking into her chair. And she refused to look at Erik all the rest of the two days they stayed.

"Hmm, I wonder what happened..?" she murmured to herself, swinging her feet.

Erik had also avoided talking or looking at Rachel though he was still quite kind and polite. She hoped it wasn't her doing. His mask was bothering him more in the heat as well. Lark could hear him sigh with impatience whenever she heard the small snap of his mask's straps as he tried to adjust it more comfortably.

"I don't know why he wears it now since I'm-…"

Inspiration hit her like an arrow and she shot up from her chair.

"Oh! I know what to say!"

With that, she bounded out of her room to head over to Erik's.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Music. The one thing that Erik could not, nor would not, abandon in all his remaining life. It was the pounding of his heart, the air in his lungs, his food and drink. It was his lover and friend; mother, father, brother, and sister. Music, easy to say, was his life. Such as his soul he poured out all in the tip of an inked pen. Some crisp white music sheets lay on his desk, eagerly awaiting the genius that would splash across its splendid pages. Yet, as it will go for such musical wonders, he was at a loss of the melody that was trapped in his mind. They pleaded to be released so that they, too, may share their magnificence to the world that craved their beauty.

He sighed heavily and replaced his pen, his ideas at leave from him for now. They would be back, but they now had rendered him hopeless for a time.

"If only, if only," he murmured wistfully to himself, twirling the pen between his emaciated fingers.

With another longing look at his work, he mutely placed it tenderly in their rightful drawers promising to himself that he would get it finished soon. The sun, so bright that afternoon, was neatly tucked out of reach in this room. Erik thought himself very wise to pick the only room in the house without a window. The light was still bothersome and harsh to his eyes that had seen only darkness and the light of a candle for many a good centuries in his life. He was still musing silently to himself, tapping the pen lightly in an unconscious beat when his door creaked its way open behind him.

"Let me guess, you have another idea?" he drawled, knowing exactly who was behind him.

Lark, for it indeed was her, only smiled widely and felt her way to his coffin, plopping in. Her legs and arms stuck out oddly from the dark wood box but she still beamed with delight and bounced enthusiastically on the dark, red velvet cushions.

"You guess correct, Erik!" she praised. He scowled.

"What is it now?" he sighed, turning around in his chair, wrapping his long arms around the back.

Her face pouted unhappily.
"Oh, now you make me feel like I do this all the time!"

"You do."

"Do not!" she cried out, outrage and amusement battling for victory over her expressions. "Anyways, Erik, I know that….that your mask bothers you in the heat."

"No, don't lie," she added as he had begun to protest loudly. "It does, and I can tell it becomes very uncomfortable for you to wear it all day. So I was thinking…" she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger involuntarily. "Would it be so terrible if, if you just…took it off?"

He made no reply so as to let her know what was going on inside of him. Lark continued rather timidly, but still firmly enough to get her idea across.

"Erik," she said solemnly, "you and I both know I am completely blind. Even when I did see, I saw your true face. I think you would be more comfortable if you took it off while in the house."

"I see."

"Do you?" she asked. "I just…don't want you to be discomforted here. This is our home now, right? Shouldn't you be at ease in your own home?"

Erik was silent, pondering what she was saying. Yes, he would admit it, wearing a mask was horrible in hot weather. When he lived down in the cellars of the Opera, way before Christine –here he grimaced from the dull, slashing pain that would linger still- he had strolled among his home like a castle. Bare-faced and free to do as he wished. He looked at the young woman before him, her face creased with tension. All she wanted was for them to be happy. No one would care if he died or lived, but she did. While he was still living, she wanted him to be at bliss!

"I understand what you are saying and I thank you for thinking of me," he said slowly. The barest hint of a smile started to shine on her face, like the sun peeking out hopefully through thick grey clouds.

"If you would be comfortable knowing I am…exposed, I shall take up your offer."

She clapped her hands together, delighted.

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course!" she gushed joyfully, "I'm happy when you are happy, Erik! Do take it off now! Do, do!"

"Very well, don't lose your head, now."

Carefully, he reached behind his head, cupping the mask's cheeks with his palms. And slid ever so slowly, the white silk material that once covered his entire face. Coolness was the first bliss he felt as he removed it. The lukewarm air was free to dance across his bare features, cooling them whereas the mask had once heated them to near the limit.

"Oh, that's nice," he muttered involuntarily, letting out a relieved sigh. "That is much, much more enjoyable."

Lark beamed in his direction and removed her body from the coffin, carefully making her way over to his side. His vision had broadened, Erik noticed as she came to him, and he could see clearly, oh so clearly, out of the corners of his eyes. She came up to him shyly.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated, almost blushing in her embarrassment.

"I know this is awkward for you but…can I…" she raised her hands close to his face, almost touching yet so far away. "…your face…" she trailed off.

Erik understood and even though she was correct in saying it made him uncomfortable, he willingly let her fingers press gently against the naked flesh of his face.

A small grin lightened her features as she softly traced the crooks and lines of her guardian's distorted visage, remembering clearly now how it had looked the first time she saw him. When Lark reached his eyes, she found them shut and when she felt his mouth it was straight and firm. No one could be more like a statue than Erik could in that moment. His forehead was high and his chin was proud, but there were parts missing, and patches not quite like a normal face would be.

"I remember when I first saw you," she commented, chuckling a bit. "You are very much threatening when you have a mask on, you know."

"I am more of a fright without it, as you also may recall." He replied, still holding very still.

"I don't think so…."
"Well, you are a much different case, now, aren't you?"

She laughed softly at this, and was much more careful now as her fingers explored the region where his very nose should have been. Extra cautious not to harm the delicate skin, she quickly moved on for Lark could tell by the way his stiffened that he did not like that at all.

"How did you cut yourself?" she scolded once finding the newly healing scab.

He shrugged and made no comment. She then pulled away; satisfied that she should forever remember his unique disarray of a face for always.

"I surely cannot tell why anyone thinks you to be frightening," she observed, retreating back to the coffin while Erik leaned back in his chair. "Your very face is a work of art."

Erik snorted.

"One of which none would dare to approach for fear of becoming another canvas." He remarked dryly.

She just laughed.

Hope you like! I am, again, very pleased with how I did this chapter and I hope you are too! Review and tell me what you think! They're always welcome!