She smiled, with me, in my presence, me, unmasked. Part of me hoped I was dreaming the other was hoping this was reality. I moistened my cracked lips, it stung, ignoring it, I looked down at her hands, there was an odd mark on her skin, it coiled around her, wrist, it reminded me of when the gypsies would catch my own hand with the whip.

"What happened?" I asked, pointing to her hand with the hand she didn't have in her surprisingly strong grip. She released my hand to study her wrist. "Oh, its just a scar." She said simply and reached for my hand, I snatched out of her reach, "How did you get it?" She glared at me, "You sure do ask a lot of questions, Erik?" She hissed. "I ask questions because I want to know things, how else do you think I became the genius I am today?"

"Is it just me or does that sound vain." She said with hot intensity, she had quite the way of exciting a man.

"Just tell me." I said basically begging and I don't beg.

"Why?" She barked.

"I can't be curious?" I mushered

"Obviously not." She snarled, a spark of anger glowed in her eyes. Something told me I wasn't going to win this fight. I snatched her hand and studied her wrist, it was most indefinitely a whips mark, the design of it looked familiar, I pulled back my own sleeve and gazed at my scar, it was a match.

"How?" I had never seen her in the freak show, and I had seen every 'exhibit.'

"Happy?" She spat, anger dripped like acid with each syllable. Her eyes were aflame looking very much like Greek fire.'

"No," I snatched her hand again, held it to the level of her gaze then showed her my own wrist, "Your scar and my scar were created by the same whip, each whip has a different cut. Identical cuts from to different whips is an impossible chance, now tell me: How. Did. You. Get. This. Scar." I demanded slowly.

"Alright, fine, I used to be part of this protection group, called the Redeeming Angels, they fought for those who couldn't fight for themselves. A freak show rolled into town and I took action to free victims, so I went and somebody got a whip a caught it around my hand. There, I told you, will you let my hand go, now?" She confessed, I released her hand. "How many people did you manage to free?" I asked

"Most of the exhibits. Why?"

"Just wondering." My voice came flat. I left the kitchen and went into the parlor, where I paced for a while, I stopped in front of the piano and turned to face it, the sheer black finish gleamed, I idly played a few notes, not sitting down. A small hand placed itself on my shoulder, "Tell me, Jaclyn, how did you manage to beat all the strong men?"

"Two reasons: They were drunk like sailors, and I knew how to use am enemy's own size against him." Her quiet voice chided. It puzzled me, women now-a-days turn their nose up to playing heroine, and other people that couldn't fend for themselves. She was quite different, the way she spoke was different, she had the oddest practices for a woman, she almost acted manly, in a very mild way, something told me if you gave her a sword, she would be able to defeat me in a few minutes, you give her any weapon and she could most likely beat a master at his own art.

I would like to she her in a fight with that de Chagny boy, she'd rip his head off if given a good reason.

"Erik, are you alright?" Jaclyn asked, slightly worried. I looked at her, "Fine, I'm fine, don't worry, love." I muttered, she smiled, I couldn't help but return it, I hadn't been this content for a while, actually as I thought about it, I never was this content, not even with Christine. I snapped out of my trance when I heard Jaclyn playing the piano, she looked up at me, its alrigh-"

"No, no, dear, continue." I waved my hand towards the keys of the piano. She turned back and placed her hands on the keys with expertise, she played a few soothing notes. I strode to the sofa and seated myself, just to relax a feeling I scarcely had the privilege of enjoying. The music Jaclyn was playing was absolutely original, relaxing and lulling, I knew exactly what she was doing, she was trying to put me to sleep, "I know what you're doing, you're trying to escape, I won't have it, I have the only key."

"Erik, I'm not trying to escape, I see you're extremely tired." She cooed gently. She resumed to the lulling song and I eventually fell asleep.

He was in a cage, people laughing and snaring at him, his keeper entered the cage, ripping off the bag that covered his face, the sight of his face made some people scream, other snared and laughed harder. A few vomited, all but one reacted, or from what he could see, he stayed still, no reaction from the dark hooded figure that he so hoped was the Death Angel come to take him from this cruel world to an even harsher one. Anywhere but here. But it wasn't the figure shook its head furiously. It turned and ran out of the tent.

After the sick show, when the strong men and keepers were drunk the figure returned, sadly it was noticed, all of the strong men got up to face the figure, but one other black clad figure joined him.

"Nice to see you sister." Said the first figure as they went back to back

"Likewise, Dragonfire." Said the second. The strong men attacked drunkenly, but 'Dragonfire' and her sister took them down easily. "That was a waste of my time." Dragonfire hissed, then there was a crack of the whip. Dragonfire cried out, "Son of a bitch." She hissed angrily, as she reached for the keys of his cage, but the dreaded whip cracked again and cut her wrist, she cried out again, but the dries of pain turned to mad laughter in a matter of seconds. She fisted the whip and jerked it, hard, bringing the gypsy to her, then wrapped the excess of the whip around his neck and pulled, strangling and slitting his throat. Dragonfire retrieved the keys and unlocked his cage, opening the door and stepping in.

"Silverfire, help me." 'Silverfire' came and slung his arm over her shoulder. The next time Dragonfire spoke, the voice was gentle and familiar. "don't give up on me Erik, everything's going to be fine." The voice was Jaclyn's