Aaaand we are here with the big 6 O! WHOO! All I can do right now is look back and say..."Geez, I'm not done yet???"

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Sad day.

"Ouch…!" Lark gasped, clenching her teeth together back against the pain. Heavy footsteps made their way quickly to her side and she felt two hands grasping her around the waist, hoisting her up off the floor. The child held in a scream and stumbled away as soon as her feet were firm on the floor. "Who is it?" she whimpered, squinting and widening her eyes in vain attempt to see the dark figure before her. A gentle hand touched her cheek but, startled, she slapped it away. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle," the Vicomte's maddeningly calm voice reached her ears, "it is I, Raoul de-…" The child's eyes filled with hateful rage as she picked up the dress, backing up to the bathroom. "Chagny!" she spat, finishing his sentence. "I know very well who my captors are!" Raoul took a step back, surprised at her outburst. "Lark," he began gently, "we are only here to help you, not to be your captors." The child trembled with some unspoken emotion as she grasped behind her searching for the bathroom door handle. "I don't care," she said suddenly, "you took me from my…my home….my…" she whispered so softly that Raoul could not catch it. "My Papa."

Christine hurried into the room and came to Lark's side, taking her hand gently and speaking so that she would know who it is. "It's Christine, dear don't worry." She said softly, her words seductive venom in the child's heart. "We never stole you from that dreadful place," she said comfortingly. "Remember? He gave you to us to protect and raise properly here above ground so you could have a normal life." Christine stroked the child's hair as she looked at Raoul with a confused face. He shrugged in response and headed out the door, leaving the two females alone. "You are in our care, Lark." The Vicomtess cooed, "You will be happy soon enough once you get used to everything." The child nodded mutely and trembled until Christine wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. "Now," she continued, taking the dress from Lark's limp fingers, "let's get you cleaned up, alright dear?" Lark looked out in the direction of the brightest source of light.

The window.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Rachel was confused as she arrived home, and furious that she never got to even see Lark at all! Thanking Lewis briefly, she made her way up to the door, opening it with familiarity that she had all her life. This house…she had lived in it for as long as she breathed air; all her life. Sighing with frustration, the comfort of her home could not calm her as she hung up her cloak. "What did she mean?" she asked aloud. "What did she mean by mentioning Erik…?" The woman didn't hear the footsteps that made their way hesitantly down the stairs, nor did she see her brother as he made his way to the parlor. "What about me, mademoiselle?" a soft voice came behind her. Rachel let out a squawk of surprise and spun around only to catch her breath. "Where did you go, if you do not mind me asking?" Erik looked sadly at her through his mask, his eyes still holding the pained grief she couldn't comprehend. Rachel swallowed nervously and remembered what the Vicomtess said about his past…possibly he was dangerous? "Of course," he continued softly, barely using his vocal cords. "It is not my business to know where a lady goes." He turned to leave but Rachel found her own voice.

"No, Erik, I do not mind telling you!" she said breathlessly, stopping him with her outburst. How could she even start to believe this remarkable man was dangerous? She wouldn't ask, Rachel decided then, what happened to him in the past. It didn't matter right now. Erik turned, a slight spark of curiosity echoing in his empty eyes. "Oh yes?" he said, giving her his full attention, making her face flush. "No, not at all!" she said, fumbling with a strand of her hair. Erik listened patiently and she stuttered out her reply. "I- I was going to the Vicomte's home." She admitted quickly, "I wanted….I wanted to get Lark back." Rachel wasn't sure if he heard her, for he remained still as a statue. Then suddenly he gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you." He whispered. "So they are keeping her there." He walked off towards the stairs and Rachel could see how thin, or thinner he had become over the past week. "Erik…" she called hesitantly, coming near the staircase. "What are you…going to do?" Erik never answered that question, but a few days later she noticed that he had begun to work on something. He would come out only to eat maybe a small morsel or two silently before asking Richard to excuse him. Erik went out shopping a lot, and would come back with strange parcels tucked under his arm.

"I wonder what is it he working on." Rachel wondered out loud to her brother. Richard could only shrug but hope was in his eyes. "I think he…has an idea to get Lark." Rachel smiled.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Christine's calming, soothing words were poison in Lark's ears, numbing her senses to the point where she could not even remember who the two siblings she had visited were. It had been about a month after she had been taken, and her eyesight was totally gone. She was alone in this dark world and no one could bring in a light, no one could help even if they brought thousands of candles. For the first few days of her blindness, she sobbed hysterically and threw terribly frightening tantrums that ended in either servants or Raoul and Christine to physically restrain her as she screamed and fought like a wild animal. Then, as though a thought hit her, she would sag and become limp and beg their forgiveness. Christine would forgive the child and give her a comforting hug but Raoul would leave the room with distaste and said nothing to his wife when she demanded an answer for his strange actions. Lark, once alone, would get out of bed, and feel around the whole room with her fingers. She felt every tiny corner, every edge of furniture up and down with her sensitive hands until she knew where everything was and she had a mental picture in her mind. The child never laughed or showed any signs of emotion except when she threw her fits of rage or fright or both. Her once bright and enthusiastic eyes became dull and permanently glazed which was a sign of a blind human. She would move them, however, as though she could still see people, and when she thought she felt someone's disapproving eyes like a passing servant or the Vicomte himself, Lark would muster the most hateful glance in the direction the feeling came from. And she would laugh rudely if she heard the footsteps quicken.

Though she made no attempt to remember the siblings who were once her friends, she could not or would not forget Erik. Perhaps it was Erik who gave her the courage to ask Christine for a tour of the whole house so she could feel everything with her fingers to make a mental map, or perhaps it was Erik who still gave her the rage, the grief, and fright that were her only emotions. And perhaps it was Erik who didn't let her forget him. It was impossible for Lark, and if she had tried, which she never did, she would have found that something else reminded her like a brush of Christine's silk dress against the wall, or the constant music in her mind. Yes, there was music in her mind at all times, how could she forget it? For as long as she had lived with Erik, there was always music even when he wasn't playing the songs were etched into her soul forever. Maybe that's why she showed her first spark of glee in many weeks when Christine showed her the music room where there was one big, grand piano in the center of the room.

Review, please! It makes us both so happy! And it seems now adays my limit for a chapter is at least 1,000 words. I'm so smart!