A HUGE apology for the delay, but, unfortunately, this might be normal from here on in. I don't have a computer at home, and the one I am using may well be off limits until school starts back up. We'll see. Also, I'm trying a new format, to see if it makes the POV changes easier. Because of the shortness of this chapter, I will also post another today, but I implore you to review both. Thanks!

------------------------Erik--------------------------------------

The pain was numbing. The bullet had lodged in my shoulder. I could deal with pain., and it wouldn't be crippling. But I laid on the ground for a few seconds, stunned, before I finally forced myself up.

Or, at least, I tried. By then, Lyra is bending over me.

"Papa! Where did it hit you? Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Are you alright?"

------------------------Lyra-----------------------------------------

"Yeah." I answered. Imagine, asking me if I was alright! I hadn't been shot! That darned, stupid, FOP!

"And where is this'fop'?" -Oops, I said it aloud.-

"Dead," I answered. "I have a lot to tell you. But first, we've got to get you inside. Where are you hit?"

"Right shoulder. Nothing too serious. That boy always was a terrible shot."

"If that was humor, it wasn't funny. Come on, we've got to get you cleaned up."

I served as a prop for him, he was loosing a lot of blood and was probably going into shock. When we got inside I deposited him in the kitchen (it would be easier to clean afterwards) and lit a lamp.

The fact that he was wearing a white shirt did not help the tableau. It was bright red now, and so was I, I imagine. I ran to his room to get the first aid kit and went to work. The actual procedure didn't take long, but it seemed like forever. He was silent, probably from pain. I just didn't know what to say.

Finally, after I was finished, I muttered, "Sorry I didn't get here sooner. I came as soon as I knew what was going on. The poor horse is probably going to drop dead I rode him so hard. I..."

"What horse?"

"Oh. His name's Marc Antony. I kind of stole him."

He looked at me wearily. "You do have a lot to tell me. Did you know that you were humming as you worked just now?"

"Was I? What was it?"

"Something I wrote a long time ago, for the wife of the man outside. Where do you want to start?"

--------------------------Erik-------------------------------------------

First, Lyra fixed herself a sandwich, which was soon gone, (she couldn't have eaten for days at the rate it dissappeared) and got both of us cleaned up. I felt useless, but she wouldn't let me help. Then Lyra got a fire going in the parlor, and we sat together, her head against my chest, and told me her story. She had truly grown. -She's thirteen, but you'd never guess that now.- I thought as she told me what had happened to her. -She acts like an adult. My word, she acts like ME!-

I listened to the whole thing, not letting her stop until she got to the end. I didn't care about Raoul, he could lay there for a while. I wanted to know about Christine, and how this whole thing fit together. It was incredible, there were so many coincidences. In a sane world, it wouldn't have been possible. But I knew that it was true. It was too outrageous to be a lie. Christine, mad, or close to it. Raoul, dead. A boy, Phillippe, without anyone able to care for him. The name of the white horse, Antony did not escape me either. I remembered Ceasar all too well.

Finally, she reached the point where she had come around the corner. She looked up at me, maskless, and her blue eyes filled with tears. "Father, I'm sorry. What are we going to do with the body? Christine will know. She's not stupid."

"First off, it's alright. I've killed quite a few men in my day. You couldn't help it, most likely." She nodded her head. "Secondly, we'll get rid of the body in a way that will, hopefully, throw Christine off of our trail. If she's as unstable as you say, that will be best. Finally, I love you."

----------------------Lyra-----------------------------------------------

I started. No one had ever told me that, not really. I knew that father loved me, but he had never told me. In fact, he probably hadn't told anyone since...

"Oh, father, I love you too."

He looked down at me and smiled slowly, as if his face was unused to it. "Good, " he said, kissing me on the forehead. "Now, let's take care of the body."

In the next chapter, Drugs, Sex, and Violence! (Well, kind of.) Ayesha speaks (or at least, thinks)! And, I promise, it will be longer! Read on! (But Review too!)