SQUEE! Thank you all for your reviews! They make me so happy! For your devotion and praise, I shall be giving you all...a cookie! (gets clobbered) Ow...ow...alright! Alright! Here's your update! (goes off in search of band-aids)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. (sighs) do you have to rub it in????
Part Fifty-three:
Lark tossed and turned in her bed, her mind chock full of worries. What was wrong with Erik? What was he talking about leaving? Why did they run off without saying goodbye to Rachel and Richard? She hoped they weren't angry with them… Lark rested her cheek against the wood paneling of the bed's end. She tried to focus her eyes on the candle that sat silent and alone on her bedside. This was beginning to look bad for her. Everything was going in her sight….all was fuzzy and dim. She could barely see the candle's bright little flame. She feared the worst. But surely it wouldn't leave her….not tonight! The child sat up, clinging to the wooden pole. "Eriiiiik!"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Rachel could only stare helplessly as Erik suddenly gasped, going paler than a sheet. Paler, paler, all color around his gold eyes leaving his face. Fear and pain entered his emotion rank as he gasped for breathe. What was wrong with him…? "Rachel?" a hand tapped her arm and she looked up into Richard's concerned eyes. She had been replaying the scene over and over of Erik going so pale from….was it fright? It had only happened about ten minutes ago, and the woman was furious that she had not gone after him to see what was wrong. "Rachel? Where did Lark go?" Richard asked her again, looking worried. He had removed his mask and it hung limply from his hand. Rachel shrugged helplessly. "I think she went off with…Erik," she said uncomfortably. "He said, well not technically said, that they had to leave." Richard raised an eyebrow and started to question further but was interrupted by the joyous music blasting through. The dancing had restarted again. "We'll see them afterwards," Richard muttered, taking his sibling into his arms to dance. "Lark said she wanted another carriage ride before we left…" Rachel nodded, smiling slightly. "She'll never let us go before she gets her ride." She laughed. Richard only shrugged and twirled her. "Still I wonder what was wrong…" he mused. Rachel glanced at the Vicomte and his wife warily.
"I wonder…" she murmured.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Erik had finally calmed his frantic heart into beating more normally, though it jumped speeds whenever he heard a small sound. Changed out of his gaudy costume, he donned his night cloths of a black kimono with satin lapels. His hair was tied hastily out of his face with a black ribbon as he plucked up his regular full-faced white mask and fastened it on his face. Sighing, relieved only so, he settled himself at the organ and stared at the pile of papers. Underneath the music, there was a single drawing of a lady. He drew it not so long ago when there was no Lark to accompany him in his dreary lifestyle. No. Erik tugged the drawing out and stared at the lovely woman looking back at him. Christine Daae, how truly lovely she truly was. His sketching never did her justice. He sighed heavily and set the paper aside and rubbed his temples. They really should move out of here away from the Opera. He leaned back. Perhaps they would leave tomorrow, he and Lark; he was foolish to think they could continue to live down here in the house. Too many people knew were it was now, and Erik would not put Lark in any more danger.
"Eriiiiik!" Lark's timorous voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back into the present. She was calling him? He paused, listening again not sure if he had heard correctly. Again the wail came again, more urgently. "Eriiiiiiik!" Erik was on his feet in moments and striding quickly to her room. Poking his head in he saw that she was already dressed in her nightshift and was clinging to the bed's pole with tight, whitened fingers. "Lark..?" he questioned, walking over to her side. She glanced towards his voice, eyes scanning back and forth for a moment, searching before settling on his masked face. He noticed that the child was squinting quite a lot these days… Her face, however, relaxed at the sound of his voice and as he approached she reached out a small hand towards him. Erik took it gently in his own, not sure of what to do. "What is wrong?" he asked, peering into her squinted eyes. Her hand was surprisingly cool and shaky, as if she had been terribly frightened. "Erik." She sighed, smiling, eyes widening to regular size.
A slither of irritation slipped into his mood. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked curtly, "Or may I go back to my work?" Lark's lips trembled as she attempted a small smile. "I'm scared." She whispered, shamefaced. Erik immediately crouched down to her level. "What are….you afraid of?" he asked her seriously, dread filling him once again. She bit her lip and refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she traced one of his thin hands with her free one, following one of the few larger veins with an unsteady finger. By instinct, he would have drawn away, but he managed to stay put as he stared at her, puzzled and worried. "I…" she started softly, "I'm afraid…you're going to leave….me." she mumbled. "I don't…" tears started to spill down her face. "…want you to leave!" Erik stared at her with surprise as she cried, her tears falling like pearls onto her lap and his hands. "Lark," he began uncomfortably, "Look at me, please." She raised her head, face streaked with falling tears. "I'm not…" he fumbled with her small hands in between his, "…going to leave you. Ever. I don't want to, I don't need to." Suddenly the child threw her arms around him, sobbing. "Promise?"
Awkwardly, Erik entwined his arms around her, finishing the embrace. "I promise." He vowed quietly. Releasing him, Lark sat back in her bed, crawling underneath its covers. "Erik…" she whispered. He looked at her. "Yes…?" She twisted the bed covers in her fingers. "Never mind…" she said finally, snuggling deeper in the blankets with a sigh. Erik shrugged and got up, turning to the candle to blow it out. "Oh! Erik, don't blow it out, please!" Lark cried, grabbing his sleeve anxiously. He turned to her, prying her fingers gently off the black silk. "Alright," he said, looking at her oddly, "I won't." She smiled at him, relieved and closed her eyes. "Thank you," she sighed. Erik eyed her strangely for a moment before turning his back on the child and exiting her room, closing the door behind him. She should be fine tonight, and tomorrow they would leave together…perhaps find another Opera house to haunt. He smirked at his own joke then shook his head, tired. He never wanted to step foot in any Opera house ever again. "But now…" he murmured, "to my wor-…" He was cut off as he stepped into the Louise Philippe room. Erik felt his heart speed up double time and his eyes widened to beyond comprehension. "Oh God…" he breathed, all terror refilling him to the brim.
Christine got up from her chair at the table, looking back at him unsteadily, like she wasn't sure she was really seeing him. "Erik." She whispered.
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