Greetings! Haleybob here! Thank you ALL for the reviews and your concerns about Lark's and Erik's fate. Well, I have to tell you that I cannot tell you personally, and you shall have to read...the NEW CHAPTER! Woo! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I own neither Phantom of the Opera nor "A la Claire Fontaine" (a French lullaby)

Part Fifty-five:

"What have you done, Erik?" Christine asked with severity that chilled him to the bones. Raoul looked at the child with a mixture of unshielded abhorrence and pity. Erik couldn't move, only stare at Christine, and at Lark who glared at Raoul and Christine. She already felt threatened by their mere presence and she wished very, very hard that they would disappear like Erik and Mama in her nightmares. This was horribly unimaginable in both her and Erik's eyes as they both stared at the intruders of their perfect little world. "Erik, who are these people…?" the child asked again, but fell silent when Erik looked at her and shook his head ever so slightly, trepidation plain in his gold eyes. Christine shook her head in disgusted wonder. "Is this what you have been doing since I left?" she asked, appalled. "Have you been luring another innocent girl into your dark world with your voice?" Erik felt sick as his fists clenched tight on the carpeted floor. Dear God, let this be a nightmare…let this be some twisted dream inflicted upon him. Raoul also shared the illness, but of a different kind, and his was shown upon his handsome face. He looked back and forth between Lark and Erik with a pale face.

"Erik!" Christine demanded. Erik felt no energy as he raised his head ever so slightly. "No," he croaked, "no, I have….never sung again…after…after you left." Lark rushed to his side, avoiding the other woman's outstretched arm like the plague. "Erik…" she said hopelessly, kneeling down beside him. He didn't take any notice of her, though, but stared blankly at Christine. "I have not bothered anyone…" Raoul scowled and took a step forward. "You have, Monsieur, obviously bothered this child! What about her family…?" Christine held up a hand and he fell silent once again but glowered at the man kneeling before them. Christine turned to Lark and smiled kindly, like a nurse to an ill child. "What is your name, my dear?" The child clung to Erik's heaving shoulders protectively, her chin up with some sort of fierce pride. "Lark." She said, "And you are Christine De Chagny." Christine's face was pulled into a surprised look, though her eyes were cold towards Erik. "How did you come to know my name…?" she asked, glancing once at the masked man. Lark tightened her grip on her guardian and scooted closer to him. "I saw you at the Masquerade," she whispered, "The manager was announcing your arrival."

A shudder went through Erik, making Lark tremble slightly as well. She didn't dare mention to this woman that she had also seen her in a drawing, but with no name, done by Erik himself in his study. Christine's face tightened slightly but she managed a small smile. "May I talk to Erik alone, mademoiselle?" she asked lightly. Raoul shifted against the wall, his hand resting against his sword. Lark looked at both the Vicomte and his wife, and started to speak but Erik's hand touched her own. "Lark," he whispered, "go back to bed, I shall talk to them." The child looked once more at Raoul with eyes filled with hatred and she shook her head. "I want to stay with you," she started, but Erik stood up. Glassy eyed, he turned towards Christine. "May I put her back to bed…? Or should you accompany me with that as well?" Christine studied his masked face then glanced at Raoul. "We will wait outside the door," she said finally. Raoul nodded and walked over to stand protectively next to his wife. Erik bowed mockingly to them and helped Lark to her feet. "Erik..!" she protested. He shook his head and pushed her gently forward towards her room. "Come, Lark…" he whispered, his throat clogged. "It will be…alright once I talk with them." The child bit her lip, but obeyed without question.

"We shall wait outside the door, Erik." Christine warned. "Do not try anything." Erik looked at her with empty eyes. "I shall not do anything." He promised, following the small child inside the room. Closing it behind them he watched sadly, but fondly, as Lark made her way to the bed, snuggling herself underneath the lovely covers. "Come over here, Erik, please." She asked, patting the bed. With heaviness in his heart, Erik made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, forcing himself to be cheerful. "Don't worry," he said, "I will talk to them." Lark twisted the sheets between her fingers. "Can you make them go away?" He smiled softly at her, even though his mask hid his expressions. "I will try," he said, the sinking feeling returning as he thought of Christine and Raoul waiting outside the door. The child smiled back, but it was a hopeless smile, like those made by prisoners of war when told they would be going home 'soon'. "Erik," she whispered, "can…can you sing…?" He eyed her sadly but nodded. "I used to." He murmured, taking her small hand in his giving it a gentle squeeze.

She smiled slightly. "I thought so, your voice just sounded like it could." Erik nodded and started to get up. "Get some rest, Lark," he said, walking to the door. "I shall….sort things out…" The child sat up quickly, eyes wide with fright. "No!" she cried, "Don't go! I'm…I'm scared!" He stopped where he stood and turned. "You're scared…?" he asked, his mouth going dry. "What are you scared of…?" She was curling up beneath the covers, her eyes once again squinting in her direction. Lark swallowed and clung to her pillow. "The darkness." She whispered. "I'm…I'm afraid of the dark…and I can't go to sleep!" Erik sighed and went back to the bed. "Lay down," he commanded softly. She obeyed and stared at him intensely. Running a hand over his hair Erik hummed a quiet little tune Lark listening curiously. Slowly, he added his voice to the humming, and began to sing a soft lullaby.

Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai

Chante rossignol, chante,
Toi qui as le cœur gai
Tu as le cœur à rire,
Moi je l'ai à pleurer

J'ai perdu mon amie,
Sans l'avoir mérité
Pour un bouquet de roses,
Que je lui refusais

Je voudrais que la rose,
Fût encore au rosier
Et que le rosier même
À la mer fût jeté

By the second verse, Lark was already sleeping peacefully with a small smile on her face. Erik stroked her hair once before getting up and leaving the room. Christine and Raoul were waiting just outside in the halls. "She's asleep, now." Erik sighed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Christine looked over at him sadly and came to him, Raoul quick to be right beside her. "Erik," she started, looking into the room at the sleeping child. "Erik, I don't think…I don't think it's right to have a child live below ground." His throat was clogged right at the moment, but Erik nodded slowly. "Yes, yes it's not right. I should have…" Christine interrupted. "No, Erik," she said staring hard into his eyes, "I mean, I don't think it's right to have her live down here with you, either. With you at all." A jolt went through him as his stomach twisted itself into a horrible knot. He swallowed hard. "What…what would you suggest, then?" he asked hoarsely. Christine motioned for Raoul to enter the room and as he obeyed, she turned to Erik. "We will take the child and give her a normal life up above." Erik felt weak, but he wanted to rush in there and stop the Vicomte from entering Lark's room. He couldn't move!

Raoul came back, Lark cradled in his arms asleep. The child sighed once, and turned in her sleep; Erik wanted to cry. "Goodbye, Erik." Christine said sadly, following Raoul out of the house. He followed them mutely. As they climbed into the boat he could only stare after them. "Why?" he asked wretchedly as Christine started to climb aboard. She, his Angel, turned to him slowly as Raoul took up the oars. "Because," she said softly as they rowed away, "children aren't meant to live in the dark." Darkness swallowed them and, without another sound, they left just as quickly as they had come.

Erik fell to his knees and wept.

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