Helloooooo readers! (turns on applaude machine) Yes yes, thank you all very much, I'm here forever! (turns off machine) Well lucky yous I have been writing a lot and I have come with the new chapter! (applause) Yes, yes, wait...where are you going? Aren't you going to listen to me talk? You're going to go read it? Why? Nooo! My publicity!
DISCLAIMER: I dun own Phantom, happy??
"Goodness, Lark, don't do that again!" Christine scolded, relieved as the child came in through the back door from the garden. The Vicomtess was waiting in the hall, looking worried as her husband had gone upstairs. "My apologies, Madame," Lark said softly, her voice switching back to the monotone. "I wanted to see the garden and I just now asked for the time." Christine sighed and walked over to her to give her a tight embrace then pulled her away to look at her straight in the fogged eyes. "Who did you ask?" The child remained blank faced but she shrugged. "I never asked for a name, Christine." The woman shook her head and gave a little sigh herself. "Next time you talk to people," she warned gently, "you must ask their name, alright?" Lark nodded and headed for the staircase, her hand closing over the rail for support. Raoul was heading down the stairs with gloves in his hand and, in passing the blind child, gave a small sneer before bidding his wife goodbye and telling her he would be back in awhile for he had business. The child felt rage bubble up inside but she kept her cool. She had sensed he had looked at her, and not with fondness that Christine would.
"Stupid man," she muttered darkly, and she raced up the stairs careful as always, and slammed her door in finding it. The child threw herself on the bed and fought against the tantrum that wanted to be released. Think of the gentleman, think of what you're going to tell him. She thought to herself, then her clenched fists relaxed and she traced the lace pattering on her sheets. "Wonder how I'll tell it?" she murmured.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Are you sure?" Rachel sat up more, nearly knocking over her glass of wine as the table gave a tremor. "Oh my God, are you sure, Erik?" They were all sitting at the dinning room table, Rachel and Richard still having their unfinished meal in front of them as they had started dinner not too long ago. Erik bowed his head. "Yes, she is completely blind." The woman gave a small cry and her hand covered her mouth. Richard looked pale as he wiped his lips with his napkin. "How?" he croaked, "How could her vision just…go?" Erik shrugged and fiddled his mask, he had changed out of the other he had worn while talking to Lark as soon as he got home, and making sure that the owners never saw him as such. Best leave what he was working on to himself then worry the two siblings. "I believe it was failing over the years and she just failed to notice until it was completely gone." But he had seen her squint from time to time…and didn't she say she was afraid of the dark? He shook his head sadly, now she would see anything but the dark. Rachel traced her lip in self-thought, wishing intently that this was all a bad dream. As she had promised to her brother, her work had been covered and she was not to work on it until Lark was back. Rachel agreed as it was a good idea at the time, and it still seemed so now. Nothing was more important than getting back that child to her rightful guardian.
"I'm going to go see her," Erik broke in quickly, looking pained as it took much out of him to admit it. "She doesn't….recognize me so I talked to her of course, and- and I'm going to see her again tomorrow." Richard looked at him with relief. "Of course," he said excitedly, "you can see if she's truly happy where she is! Then we will have something against them and we shall get her back!" Erik concurred and fiddled with his mask, the little black one in his pocket. Rachel, however, bit her lip nervously and spoke with quiet uncertainty. "What if…they don't let her go?" The men gaped at her, her brother with an open mouth and Erik with his silent golden stare. She took a quick breath and spoke again. "What if they don't care and they keep her? Are we going to, perhaps, smuggle Lark away?" Richard started to protest but was silenced when Erik spoke. "If it takes it that far," he admitted chokingly, "Then I shall do whatever humanly possible to get my child back." He glowered broodingly at his hands. "She's unhappy, I can tell that much, but it's like…pardon the crudity…but it's like she's being brainwashed into thinking…" he let the sentence go suggestively and spread his hands. Richard finished for him. "Into thinking she's fine, that that's all she is going to get." He broke and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Rachel remained silently thoughtful as she gawked at both men. Please, God, let it work out. She prayed in her mind.
"As I said," Erik said finally, "I do not care anymore in what will happen. I want my child back and I will get her back in whatever way I can." He looked at both siblings square in the eye. "Do you support me? I can understand if you don't, but in order for this to work, we shall have to be on the same level." Rachel and Richard glanced once and each other and simultaneously voiced, "Yes."
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Lark had tossed and turned that night, her nightmares filled with new horrors and people she couldn't see and…Mama. She awoke that morning with a gasp of fright, drenched with a cold sweat. As usual she woke to nothing but darkness, but the sound of a servant wrenching back the curtains and mumbling a brief good morning and scurrying out of the room told the child that it was early morning. Trembling, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hobbled out to her wardrobe. What do you wear to a secret meeting with a kindly old gentleman who you are going to tell everything no matter the consequences? Lark didn't know either and she felt each different shaped bead on the tip of the dresses' skirts over and over again, trying to decide. The dream frightened her and all she wanted right now was to get out so in her hurry, she tugged out the next dress she touched not caring the color –why? She couldn't see it- or the style –also not important as she never saw the stares she knew she received-. The child was about to trip over to the bathroom when a soft knock at the door made her turn around as the door creaked open.
"Lark, such an early riser for one so young!" Christine's sweet voice came through and Lark heard her careful footsteps cross the floor and felt her gentle arms embrace her. "Good morning, Christine." She said deceitfully. It wasn't a good morning unless she could feel the sun on her face and rose petals between her fingers. The Vicomtess smiled at the child and gave her another quick squeeze before looking at the dress she held. "Do you want me to brush your hair?" she asked, "we can make you look very pretty." Lark was used to this. Kind was Christine, and she was like an over-loving mother smothering the child with affection. The girl, however, nodded once and allowed herself to be carted to the bathroom and to be dressed and trussed up like Christine's personal doll. "You look so lovely," the woman gushed fondly as she gently brushed through the soft tangles in Lark's hair. "It's like you are going to an important meeting or party almost!" Lark nodded and rewarded the woman with a faint smile.
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