“Well, this is a problem.”

With a groan, Crutchie forced his eyes open. He felt a sharp burst of panic when he realized that his hands were tied behind his back. The ropes were biting into his wrists, and tugging only made it worse. “Its not going to do you any good,” Pip commented from across the room. “I'm serious when I say that this is a problem.”

Giving up trying to get his hands free, Crutchie shot his younger friend a sharp look. “Did you just now know that, or did you have to think about it for a little while?” he asked. The younger boy shrugged in response. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Sighing, Pip glanced around the wood walls, and the piles of containers that surrounded them. “I think we're in the attic of the opera house,” he answered.

“Why are we here?”

Shrugging again, Pip leaned his head back. “Who would look for us here?” he responded. “What I want to know is who is that guy working with that he was able to get us in here? Someone would have had to run interference for that stupid Arden to drag you and me in here. Two unconscious kids has to look suspicious.”

“Does it make you feel better to insult the guy who kidnapped us?”

“Well, it doesn't make me feel any worse.”

Frustrated, Crutchie jerked at his bonds one more time, just to be certain. “Why would this Arden guy take us?” he asked, vaguely remembering the man that had come from behind and the hand that had held a strange smelling cloth over his mouth.

“To get back at Erik and Katherine,” Pip responded. “He hasn't hurt us so we're probably just a distraction.”

“He's going to hurt Miss Katherine, and Mister Erik.”

For the first time, Pip looked helpless, nodding in agreement. Crutchie scowled. “We have to get out of here! Is there anything you can reach over there that can get us free?”

Pip shook his head. “I don't think Arden was considerate enough to put us anywhere something useful,” he said sarcastically. “The next time we see him, we'll just have to tell him to keep that in mind for the next time he kidnaps kids.”

“Really, you two need to hush or you'll wake the baby. And it took me so long to get her asleep.”

Both boys jerked upright at the woman's voice. “Maeve?” Pip recognized, his tone incredulous at the red haired young singer walked out from around a pile of old props. She held the sleeping Cordelia in her arms. “You? What-? I don't understand!”

“What is there to understand?” Maeve asked, bouncing slightly. “I was asked to keep you here, out of the way, so that's what I'm doing. The other little boy had to be gagged because he kept crying and bothering this little angel.”

The boys looked at each other. “Why?” Crutchie asked.

“I imagine he misses his mother.”

Rolling his eyes, Pip made an exasperated sound. “We know why the boy would be sad,” Crutchie said, trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, that's not what you asked.”

“Stop trying to play dumb, Maeve,” Pip snapped, his tone impatient. “You know what we're asking now, so just tell us!”

The red haired woman sent him a sharp look. “I don't like your tone, boy,” she said sharply. “Just because you were his pupil first doesn't mean that you are more important than me. I'm the one who appreciated his lessons, and became a star!” She grimaced. “I was before that Christine de Chagny came!”

Pip's eyes lit up. “You're jealous!” he accused. “That's what this about? You're mad that another singer has outshone you? Well, get used to it, Maeve! Christine de Chagny is a better singer than you, and she always will be.”

If his hands had been free, Crutchie would hid his face with his hand. “Yes, provoke her some more,” he muttered.

“What do you know of being ignored, you ignorant child?” Maeve demanded. “I devoted myself to learning from the Master! I even helped protect him, but what did he give me in return? He takes on that annoying little Isabella as if I wasn't enough for his attention! And then, to add insult to injury, he replaced me with that French woman!

“So you betray us all to the very man you helped protect the Master from!” Pip fired back. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense. So, all you're getting out of this is revenge for your injured ego?”

A smile appeared on the woman's face. “He's going to take me away from here,” she said, her voice taking on a dreamy tone.

Even Crutchie scoffed at that. “You're naive,” Pip responded. “You're just a pawn in his game of chess, and once he's taken out Erik and Katherine, you'll just be left behind. What could a man like Arden want with a theater girl like you?”

Maeve's entire frame tensed, so much that the toddler she held woke up and began to whimper. “Now, see what you have done!” Maeve exclaimed, turning away. She began to bounce the child. “Hush, little one. Maeve has you.”

“I think she's crazy,” Pip said in a mock whisper. He held his chin up defiantly as Maeve spun around to glare at him. “What? Was it something I said?”

Scowling, Maeve abruptly dumped the little girl into Crutchie's lap and advanced towards Pip. “I've had enough of your mouth, boy!” she spat out. For a moment, as he tried to keep the girl on his lap from toppling over, Crutchie was afraid the spiteful woman was going to strike Pip. “I'll teach you to keep silent in the presence of your betters!”

“Well, when I'm around people who are better than me, you'll have to let me know,” Pip retorted, making Crutchie cringe.

This time, Maeve did slap the boy. Pip's head jerked to the side under the force. “Once this is over, you'll go back to the gutter where you belong!” the woman hissed, searching her person for something. She finally began to fumble with her sash. Pip kicked her ankle and she jerked away with a yelp of pain. “You little-!”

“Language, Maeve,” Pip interrupted. “There are children here, and you wouldn't want to let slip where you really came from.”

“Pip, enough!” Crutchie said, desperately as Maeve slapped the younger boy again. He couldn't see what good would come of making the woman any angrier. The little girl in his lap was sniffing, her brown eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“Maeve!”

Gasping, Maeve spun around at the young female voice. Fourteen year old, Isabella was standing at the top of the staircase, horror on her face. “What are you doing?” Erik's third pupil demanded.

“This is none of your concern, Isabella,” Maeve responded, sneering at the girl. “Run along and practice for Madame Giry. You wouldn't want to lose what little talent you have for dancing now, would you? You're going to need it very soon.”

For a moment, Isabella stared at her and then slowly began to back away. Smirking, Maeve turned back and knelt by Pip. “No, don't go! Erik is going to be killed if we don't warn him! Isabella-!” the boy shouted, cut off by Maeve's sash covering his mouth. He continued to fight and squirm, not making it easy for the woman to tie the fabric.

“Isabella, please!” Crutchie called out, trying to twist around. The toddler let out a shrill scream on his lap, adding to the noise.

A second later, Isabella was striding across the attic, a piece of wood in her hand. Maeve had just started to turn when the teen girl swung her weapon. There was a dull thud, and Maeve hit the floor. Gasping, Isabella dropped the wood, staring down at the evidence of what she'd done, and pressed her hands to her face.

“Untie us, please!” Crutchie called out, trying to get her attention. “We have to get out of here.”

Shaking herself, Isabella dropped onto her knees, and pulled the sash away. “Good work, Belle!” Pip exclaimed the instant he could speak. The girl shook her head, her hands trembling as she fumbled with the ropes. “I thought for sure you were going to leave us!”

“I don't understand what's going on,” the girl admitted.

Pip finally scrambled to his feet. “Get Crutchie free,” he ordered. “I'll find Gustav.”

He darted off to search among the theater relics. “Who is this?” Isabella asked, nodding towards the little girl as she untied Crutchie's bonds. Her hands were becoming steadier.

“I think its Christine de Chagny's daughter,” Crutchie asked, feeling his face flush as Isabelle's hair brushed his face.

Jerking back, Isabella stared at him. “Christine de Chagny?” she repeated, her tone breathless. “Oh my goodness! Who would want to hurt her? What's this all about?”

“I've got him!” Pip announced, hurrying back with Gustav de Chagny in tow. The four year old boy rushed to his sister, who stopped crying on seeing him. Gustav lifted Cordelia up, glaring at the unconscious woman that had held them captive. “Now, we've got to get out of here.”“What about her?” Isabella asked, nodding towards Maeve. The red haired woman was beginning to stir.

“Pip, I can't go anywhere without my crutch,” Crutchie said at the same time, pulling himself up. He leaned against a box to keep from falling over.

Pip frowned, thinking hard. “Lean against me,” he answered. “Isabella, do you think you can keep her from going anywhere?”

The raven haired girl hesitated, glancing at Crutchie. Her chin came up. “I'll do my best,” she said with determination. She looked at Gustav and Cordelia. “What about them?”

“Yeah, they're not going to be able to keep up, even if we go slow for me,” Crutchie agreed.

Kneeling down, Pip said, “Gustav, do you think you could hang onto Crutchie's back? I can carry your sister, and we'll have you back with your mama and papa real soon.”

Hesitantly, Gustav nodded. Pip reached out and lifted Cordelia up. At first the child whimpered, but when Pip started to hum, she settled down, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. As best he could, Crutchie crouched down and Gustave scrambled up. Crutchie wobbled, unable to balance himself on two feet. Pip stepped over and the lame boy was able to use him to stable himself

“Are you two going to be all right?” Isabella asked, her eyes on Crutchie.

“We'll be fine,” Pip said confidently. “Just keep that-.” He broke off, as if remembering the young ears with them. “Maeve. Keep her from catching up to us.”

Isabella nodded, and walked over to her prisoner. “OK, let's do this,” Pip said, taking the first step. “Let's warn Erik and Katherine.”

“I hope you have a plan,” Crutchie muttered.

“Of course I have a plan. Of sorts.”