"She's smart," Meg said indignantly, pushing Jacques-Louis aside. It had been nearly three months since she had met Jessica in the ballet studio, and the two girls had grown closer and closer together, much like sisters. Meg had helped Jessica meet other ballerinas, and even one or two of the chorus members, had given her advice about how to act around everyone from La Carlotta to Monsieur Martin, who had taken a liking to the girl right away. Meg, like everyone else in the Populaire, loved Monsieur Martin; it was his son who was the little perverti.

"Why do you want to know about her?" Meg asked defensively, fixing Jacques-Louis with a stare she learned from her mother. "Are you thinking of following her around now as well?"

"No, no," he replied, his hair falling into his eyes as he tried to fix her with a dashing smile. His smile dropped back to a frown once he realized that Meg was most certainly not amused. "I merely wish to know more about her for… that is, so I don't make a fool of myself around her. I wouldn't want to embarrass your new friend."

Meg turned her head away with a little huff, gathering up her dance bag. "I told you already, she's smart. She doesn't know much French, but she's smart and lively. She can follow a conversation fairly well, though half the time I swear she's only listening so she can pick up new words. Honestly, go ask her yourself; I'm sure you'd get more information from her than from me." And with that, Meg left Jacques-Louis standing all alone in the corridor without as much as a glance to say goodbye.

Jacques-Louis let out an exasperated sigh; couldn't his darling little Meg understand? He could just go and talk to Jessica, but that glance, that fleeting glance she had given him… it sent his mind spiraling. He needed to know what she thought of him, if only so he could learn whether or not it would be worth staying friends with her in order to get closer to Meg. Ah, Meg. The sweetest, kindest, most gentle girl in the entire corps de ballet.

Jacques-Louis smiled, and decided to take his little lover's advice: he would seek out Jessica himself.

Monsieur Martin, the Director of the Arts; Director of Public Services; Assistant Manager of the Opera Populaire; and Overseer of Budget Distribution, was on the same mission himself. He had found Jessica not only to be a likable girl, but to have a fine head on her shoulders, and he was in dire need of a secretary. Life as the Director of Arts; Director of Public Services; Assistant Manager of the Opera Populaire; and Overseer of Budget Distribution was chaotic at best, and he was drowning in paperwork. The latest opera had had such a large turnout that Monsieur Martin almost felt at ease with the idea of paying the Opera Ghost his monthly salary.

Almost.

Monsieur Martin found Jessica in the back, helping the Props Master organize the current state of the props room. He smiled when he saw her hard at work; it was obvious by the intense emotion plastered on her face that she would make a fine secretary.

"Mademoiselle Jessica," he called out to her, motioning with his hand that he would like to have a private word alone. Jessica looked up hesitantly at the Props Master, but once receiving his consent to leave her work, she hurried to Monsieur Martin's side.

Erik had only just lain down his quill pen when he was assaulted by a warm mass of euphoric screaming. An involuntary noise passed his lips as his diaphragm forced air out of his body. He looked down, at first startled, then annoyed.

Jessica. Of all the people…! Strands of her hair were caught in his lips, a direct result of her throwing herself on him, even though her head lay comfortably buried in his shoulder. He could feel her smiling through the cotton of his shirt, and in an instant all his annoyance abated.

"I'm glad to see you too," he chuckled, his hand resting gently on her hair. "Though I'm not so sure that attacking someone is the best way to say that you missed them in your day aboveground. What did you do today? Did you finish sorting the props? It was a mess in there last I checked!" Erik voice wavered into a more teasing tone as he lowered his head, his lips barely brushing against her forehead every time he spoke.

He felt her body shake as she started laughing back, and found himself staring into her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Yes, I finished with the props." She started laughing again, and Erik felt a mild thought of how cute she looked when she was laughing flutter across his mind. "But I have even better news!" She waited for him to guess, but when he refused and decided to let her tell him, she rolled her eyes.

"I got a job!" she cried, throwing her arms around Erik's neck again. His entire body went stiff, and not just from her flung body weight.

"A job?" he rasped out, barely forming his mind around the concept. Jessica nodded and continued.

"Monsieur Martin came up to me and asked me to be his secretary. You remember his old one? Well, I couldn't catch exactly why she left but either way, she's gone and I get to be his new secretary! The hours are as long as anyone else's and he told me that he would pay me overtime if he needed to! Isn't it great?" She finally took a moment to look at Erik, and, noticing his less than enthusiastic face, asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied, then plastered a grin on his face. "I'm excited for you. Truly, I am. I'll help you get a bank account settled with your first pay check. You need to understand money; after all, I can't go shopping with you all the time."

The news of a job presented different emotions, in two decidedly different people.

For Jessica, she felt elated beyond all measure and just a tad bit smug. She still felt that she owed Erik; after all, he had taken her in those months ago, had given her a place to live and food to eat, and had helped her ease into the life of the Opera Populaire. Without him, Jessica was sure that she wouldn't even have a job, or even know where to look for one. Though normally these ideas did not cause one to feel "smug", Jessica had some reasoning to her madness: she would pay back the Opera Ghost for what he had done for her.

Yes, she knew that Erik would hate the very idea of it. She knew that he wouldn't want her to owe him anything. The last time she had brought up the subject had been a few weeks ago, and he had nearly yelled at her for an hour, insisting again and again that she owed him nothing.

Still, she reasoned, she couldn't go around with this guilty feeling in her. She knew that Erik had done more for her than he realized, and though she couldn't give him exactly what she rightfully owed him, her money could serve as a substitute. She wouldn't give him her entire paycheck, that would make him suspicious, but if she saved up, little by little, she would eventually have enough money to ease her conscience.

As for Erik, he felt defeated and a slow, throbbing pain in his heart when Jessica mentioned a job. How could she? How could she leave him? True, he would see her as much as he saw her on any other day, but a job would… complicate things. After all, Erik would often pull Jessica away from whatever was going on above ground and take her back home for a singing lesson, or a dancing lesson, or for any other reason.

Because of him, and all the others who spoke to Jessica during her stay here (mostly him), she could speak passably, if not overly well, in French. It was because of him that she could sing, dance, read, and cook. It was because of him that she knew how to embroider, sew her own clothes, and recognize the differences between Michelangelo and Da Vinci. And Monsieur Martin thought he would be helping her by giving her a job?

Not bloody likely. A certain Opera Ghost had a lot to say about this decision, and one could easily infer that what would be said wouldn't be pretty. It was he who ran the Opera Populaire; not Monsieur Martin! Who kept the ballet rats in line when Madame Giry wasn't paying attention? Who kept the chorus members singing their best, if only out of fear? Who knew exactly what was art, and what was trash from the gutter? Him, Him, HIM!

And they thought that he would just take this lying down? That he would just let Jessica work herself to death, smiling though she was—!

Smiling?

Erik turned back and looked at his ward; they had long ago left his piano bench and had worked their way to the living room. Yes, she was truly smiling. Her eyes were softly unfocused; a lock of hair was tucked behind her ear. He watched, almost dumbfounded, when she caught herself, laughed gently at her dreamy state, and walked over to a bookshelf. Taking out the thickest book in Erik's collection, she made her way over to the Phantom.

"Read to me," she commanded, then, as if realizing what she had just said, added a small, "Please." Erik just stared; Jessica continued. "You have an… amazing voice, and I'm nervous about tomorrow."

"You'll be fine," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry about too much. For as long as I've known you, you've worried over everything. Your French, your friends, your family. You worry more than Antoinette!"

Three hours later, Erik had Jessica snuggled up under his arm, deeply engrossed in The Complete History of Babylonian Textile Workers.


Special Thanks to: Phantom's-only-Christine, WaveRunner22, Keyra93, LunaBelle13, and batgirlblond for their lovely reviews. They give me giggly butterflies, and cause Erik to think that I'm insane.

Author's Commentary: Yeah... I'm pretty sure that I fluffed up this chappie. I mean, even I wouldn't be interested in The Complete History of Babylonian Textile Workers, even if Erik was the one reading it. C'st la vie. I'm going on vacation for awhile, and I just wanted to get this chapter out that before I got to work on my LONGER AND MORE DRAMA FILLED CHAPTER for you guys. So if I'm not posting for awhile, you know why.

C'mon, you know you're only human. You know you like to have your ideas aired. So why not leave a review? All reviews are welcome! Tell me what you thought, your favorite part, what you want to happen. Remember, Erik bakes cookies for all reviewers! (The sad news is, he EATS nearly every single batch... I think that man may have a serious addiction.)