Another sucessfully updated story! I'm on a roll here!

DISCLAIMER: Phantom of the Opera isn't mine.

# Part Twenty-nine:

Lark turned around, the person removed one scarf. "Lark, is that you?" the stranger asked again, surprised. The person begun to roll down the scarves until a pink face appeared. The girl gasped excitedly, "Richard?" The man's face beamed at her and nodded. "Richard!" Lark shrieked happily, hugging the man, "Oh, Richard, it's so good to see you again!" Richard laughed and hugged her back, "It's good to see you, too, Lark! You've definitely grown, last time I saw you, you were still learning to talk!" Erik just stood there, bewildered by this encounter and feeling slightly left out. Lark noticed his discomfort and smiled encouragingly at him. She turned back to Richard and led him over.

"Erik," she said, unconsciously taking his hand, "this is an old family friend of ours, Richard Bair. Richard, this is Erik! He's taking care of me, now." Richard gave another startling white smile and seized Erik's other hand and shook it enthusiastically. "A great honor, Mousier!" he said, grinning from ear to ear, "A great pleasure to meet you!" The young man's smile was too large for his face; he looked like a jack-o-lantern. Erik was very unused to this sort of greeting, of any greeting now that he thought about it. Nor did the youth seem to mind his mask. "Indeed," he mumbled, relieved that Richard had released his hand.

The young man turned to Lark and rested his hand on her head and laughed. "I'm glad to see you two get along!" he said enthusiastically, "Lark can be a bit of a handful!" Erik nodded, a faint smile tugging the sides of eyes as he watched Lark make a face. "Don't tell him that, Richard!" she cried out, wriggling away from the young man's hand. He laughed again and apologized. "Sorry, but this good mousier should have a warning, don't you think?" Richard asked Erik, winking. Erik groaned, "Now you tell me," The young girl looked positively horrified and looked anxiously up at Erik's face.

His mask, as always, was expressionless, but his eyes sparkled with the joke as they told Lark silently, 'I don't mean it, I'm kidding.' She relaxed and turned to her younger friend with a curious stare. "So why are you here in Paris, Rich?" She used his old nickname. "I thought you were working on your violins." Erik looked up, surprised to find that this man was a musician. "You play?" he inquired. Richard nodded and gestured to the case, they had not noticed before, sitting calmly on the cold snow. "Yes, mousier, but only little. You see," he puffed up like a proud penguin, "I design and build violins."

Lark nodded, also proud. "Let Erik see, Rich!" she said excitedly, noticing Erik's interest in the case. Richard smiled but shook his head regretfully. "Can't," he said, "the cold weather could hurt the model I'm working on." Seeing the girl's face drop he added hurriedly, "But you may see my work in my home." He looked to Erik who said nothing. "I guess you're busy, but come visit me sometime when you both have time!" He handed Erik his address which he took and shifted it into one of his cloak's pockets. Richard beamed again.

Now it was Richard's turn to fix Lark with a quizzical stare. "Lark," he began hesitantly, "where is your family? Last time I saw you, it was your brother and mother staying with you." Erik could feel her hand tighten around his and her face registered a blank look. "Dead." She said emotion gone from her face, "My brother drowned two months before Mama… before Mama died three years ago." Erik's grip on Lark's hand became tighter. The young man's face drained of color, "Rebecca and Jonathan?" he asked, his voice strained, "But there was so many of you…eight of your family…Oh, Lark, I'm so sorry." The girl managed to force a smile, but it was a bitter, bitter smile devoid of any warmth. "It's okay," she said, "it doesn't matter now. I'm looked after by Erik." She looked up at Erik and smiled gently and wriggled her fingers in his hand, protesting the tight grip he had on them.

Erik's hand loosened, but only just. He gritted his teeth, so that was what happened to her, why she was alone when she first came. Lark had bade Richard goodbye and pulled Erik along gently. "Come on," she said, "I still have to clean up the kitchen!" He followed her, relieved that some of her bubbly happiness had come back. He decided not to ask about her past, not now. Erik smiled slightly behind the mask as Lark raced ahead, chattering about how lucky they were to meet her friend. "You could be his friend too, Erik!" she said happily. Erik only shrugged as he thought of the smiling young man he had just met. "Perhaps," he answered, taking out the skeleton key from his pocket as they came up to the Rue Scribe's door.

"Can I open it?" Lark asked, eyeing the key hopefully.

Updated. XD

YES! I'm soo happy i added the Rue Scribe! (i LOVE the Leroux book!!!)