Disclaimer: I own nothing. Victor Hugo owns Les Miserables along with Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer. Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber own Phantom of the Opera.

Am I dead? Eponine thought as she blearily opened her eyes. She was in a strange room, full of exotic scents and strange tapestries hanging on the walls. It most certainly didn't look like any room in France.

Groaning, Eponine sat up and winced, putting a hand to her middle. Looking down, she saw the bandages wrapped around herself, a little blood seeping through. No, no she was alive. She was fairly certain that physical wounds didn't carry over into the next life, though she could be wrong. It had been a long time since she had gone to church.

Eponine squinted at the room. Where was she? There was something vaguely familiar about the whole look of the place . . . but what was it? She was certain she had never been here before. Eponine frowned. Being shot had obviously not helped her thinking abilities.

With a start, Eponine remembered how she had been shot. The barricades! Oh, what had happened to her friends? What had happened to little Gavroche, to Grantaire, to Enjolras?

What had become of Marius?

Quickly, Eponine swung her feet out of the bed and stood up, almost immediately sitting back down due to the pain in her torso and the sudden rushing of blood to her head. Not a good idea. She had to get up slowly.

Eponine set her feet firmly on the ground, and slowly pushed herself up. There, that wasn't so hard!

Carefully, she walked towards the door, and cautiously opened it. The outside hallway wasn't as nearly ornately decorated, but there still were a few trinkets here and there that looked the same as the decorations in the room.

Quietly so as not to disturb whoever lived here, Eponine crept down the hallway, wincing and putting her hand to her middle. Merde, that hurt!

Eponine stepped into what appeared to be the kitchen, and started when she saw a man sitting at the table there, calmly drinking coffee. Looking up suddenly, Eponine gulped as his black eyes bore into hers, his ebony skin seeming to glisten and his curly black hair neatly combed back.

"You're awake, I see." he said, speaking in a strange accent that Eponine was not able to place.

"'ello, Monsieur," she said cautiously.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" the man asked.

"My stomach 'urts a little," she replied warily.

"Well, that's to be expected. You really shouldn't be walking about after nearly dieing. In fact, I'm surprised you survived at all. Erik wasn't exaggerating when he said you were strong and stubborn," the man chuckled.

"Erik?" Eponine asked.

He looked at her curiously. "The man who saved you and brought you to me. You don't know him?"

"'is name is not familiar to me, Monsieur," Eponine replied.

The man frowned. "He's tall, deathly pale skin, wears a mask most of the time . . ."

"Monsieur le Fantomme!" Eponine gasped.

"Ah, yes, I had heard he had been going by 'the Phantom of the Opera' and 'Opera Ghost' now. And he did say you were a chorus member at the late Opera Populaire. I suppose that explains why you only know him as such." the man said.

"'e's the one who saved me?" Eponine asked incredulously.

The man nodded. "Yes, that he is, my dear."

Eponine sat down on a chair in shock. The Phantom? The one who had saved her was the Phantom? Why? Last time she had seen him he hadn't exactly been very fond of her. Unless drugging her, tying her to a chair and putting an acid-like substance – she didn't care what he had said, anything that hurt her wrists that much had to be acid – on her skin was his way of saying he liked her.

"Why?" Eponine asked.

The man shrugged. "I don't know. I was hoping you would tell me."

Eponine looked down and shook her head. "I'm afraid I know as much as you, Monsieur."

"Did you interact with him at all while you worked at the Opera House?" the man asked.

"Well, yes, though I was more of an annoyance to 'im." Eponine said.

The man laughed. "An annoyance! How so?"

"I found a few of 'is secret passages, figured out a some of 'is aliases, and I took Christine's place in Don Juan Triumphant and basically ruined 'is plot to capture 'er." Eponine said.

The man laughed. "Well, if he isn't fond of you, then perhaps he saved simply because you're the most interesting person he's ever met!"

Eponine gave a small smile. "Per'aps, Monsieur."

Smiling, the man held out one ebony hand to her. "My name is Nadir, also known as the Persian and the Daroga."

Eponine took his hand and shook it. "Eponine Thenardier, Monsieur. Sometimes known as the Jondrette girl."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eponine. Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to get back into your room, you really shouldn't be up and about in your condition." Nadir said, gently helping Eponine stand up and leading her to her room.

"'ow long 'ave I been asleep, Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

"A few days, I'm afraid." Nadir replied.

Eponine gulped. A lot could happen in a few days. Many lives could be lost.

For all she knew, all of her friends could be lying lifeless in the sewers.

The Phantom, also known as Erik, sat in his lair, sketching gently over a piece of paper, his pen fondly drawing out the lines. There were piles and piles of paper, all of them covered in drawings of the same person. Of the same woman.

Christine.

Sighing, the Phantom felt his heart ache as he looked at her picture. It did her absolutely not justice. It would be impossible for him to capture her absolute beauty and perfection on a simple piece of paper. He couldn't even do that with a mannequin. No, they were only pale shadows of the true beauty that was his Christine.

No, not his. Not anymore.

Clenching his jaw and fist, the Phantom closed his eyes. How could the thought of her bring him so much joy and pain at the same time? Why? Why did God torture him like that?

Standing up, the Phantom decided that getting out would do him some good. Perhaps he should check on how Eponine was doing.

Not that he cared whether she lived or died. But it would be courteous to at least pay a visit to the Persian after dumping the street girl on his table.

Sighing, the Phantom donned his familiar cloak and fedora before beginning the journey above.

Nadir started when he heard the nock on the door. He cautiously edged towards the door.

"Daroga!" a voice called.

"He's not here right now!" Nadir replied.

"Nadir, you booby, I know it's you!" the voice replied.

Ah, he had thought that was Erik at the door. Nadir opened the door and glared at Erik irritably.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" he asked.

"I'm trying to be less deceitful now," Erik replied before entering.

"Of course you can come in," Nadir said sarcastically.

"How is she?" Erik asked, ignoring Nadir's comment.

The Persian crossed his arms. "I thought she meant nothing to you."

"My words were 'what does she mean to me.' It was a rhetorical question. Now, the question I asked you a few seconds before was not of the rhetorical sense, so I suggest you answer it." Erik said.

Nadir sniffed. "Right. Well, she was up this morning, walking about. Tell me, Erik, why did you save her? It sounds like you two weren't the best of friends when she was at the Opera Populaire."

Erik frowned. "She was a nuisance, yes. It seemed like she took special pleasure in making me look like a fool."

Nadir chuckled. "Oh, I thought I liked her when I spoke to her this morning, but now I know for sure."

"Where is she now?" Erik asked.

Nadir raised an eyebrow. "Asleep. She lost quite a lot of blood, you know." he said.

Erik nodded. "Yes, I suppose she did,"

"I can wake her up if you wish to speak to her," Nadir offered.

Erik shook his head. "No, I don't think she'd be very excited to see me."

Nadir nodded. "Very well, is there anything else you were wanting or needing?"

Erik shook his head. "No, no there wasn't." Erik turned away to leave, but Nadir stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. There was something off about Erik. A certain hopelessness to him that Nadir didn't like at all.

"Erik, are you alright?" Nadir asked.

"I am fine, Nadir. But I would appreciate it if you would let me go. I have things to attend to." Erik replied, his voice hard and sharp.

Wordlessly, Nadir released Erik's shoulder, and watched as the tall man left his apartment. Nadir frowned. There was definitely something wrong with Erik. He had always been moody and detached, but he seemed to be more so than usual.

A few days passed in which Eponine continued to heal. She came to think of the Persian, Nadir, as a friend of hers. He was certainly nice enough, and he always treated her respectfully and always made sure she was feeling alright. He was the perfect gentlemen, and Eponine enjoyed his company greatly.

She refrained from asking too many questions about the Phantom – or Erik, as it seemed his name was – even though it was apparent that Nadir was previously acquainted with him. It wasn't Nadir's story to tell, and even though Eponine was burning with curiosity, she had a feeling that even if she asked, Nadir wouldn't tell her.

About five days after Eponine first woke up, someone nocked on Nadir's door.

"Go back to your room, Eponine, you shouldn't be up for more than an hour, anyways."

"But Monsieur –"

"Do as I say, Eponine," Nadir said firmly.

Pursing her lips, Eponine nodded, and limped to her room. After closing the door behind her, she pressed her ear to the door.

"Daroga!" a voice from outside called.

"Wrong address!" Nadir called.

"Don't play that game with me, you booby, I need to speak with you!" the voice cried.

Eponine giggled at what he had called Nadir, but was silent when she heard the door open.

"By Allah, Erik, you're white as a sheet! Have you been eating?" Nadir asked.

Eponine gasped. He was here.

"What does food matter to me anymore? Nadir, I feel so lost! I don't know what I'm to do, who to turn to. My life is in shambles!" the Phantom – no, Erik – cried.

"Erik, I want you to sit down, and I'm going to get you something to drink," Nadir said soothingly.

"Anything in high alcohol content would be helpful," Erik said.

"I don't think getting slobbering drunk will help you in your current state, Erik." Nadir said reproachfully.

"What do you mean 'my condition'? I'm perfectly fine!" Erik protested.

"Of course you are," Nadir replied calmly.

"You don't know what it's like, having no one care for you! To never have felt a loving touch! My own mother was disgusted by me, Nadir! I can never remember her once kissing me, holding me when I was scared, or even saying a kind word to me." Erik said, his voice full of pain.

"I know you've lived a hard life, Erik." Nadir said.

"Life! If you can call my existence living! Sometimes I feel that everything would be so much easier if I just ceased to exist!"

"Erik!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Nadir!" Erik exclaimed, Eponine hearing him stand up suddenly.

"I know you're mind, and you only pity me! Oh, poor Erik! Poor unfortunate Erik! Sad ugly Erik!" the Phantom cried.

"Yes, I feel sorry for you Erik. And I would feel even more sorry for you if you were to kill yourself! So, I beg you, do not do such a thing. There are those who care for you. You are just too blind to see it." Nadir said.

There was a moment of silence.

"Thank you, Nadir. This conversation has helped me very much." Erik said quietly.

"Erik?" Nadir asked.

"I think I shall leave now,"

"Don't you want to see Eponine? She's doing much better!"

"I don't think I'd be very welcome. Good bye, Nadir, old friend." Erik said coolly before leaving, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Eponine heard nothing for a while, and scurried back and onto her bed when she heard approaching footsteps. Slowly, the door opened, and Nadir stepped in.

"I assume you were listening?" he asked.

Eponine hesitated, then nodded.

Nadir sighed. "I'm worried about Erik. I don't like the way he was acting when he came here. He's normally not that gloomy. I mean, he can be very reserved and thoughtful, but not to that extent."

"What do you think 'e's goin' to do?" Eponine asked.

Nadir looked up. "Nothing that will harm anyone else, but something irreversible all the same."

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked.

"Eponine, I need a few hours to consider a few things. Could you just stay in here quietly while I do?" Nadir asked.

Eponine nodded.

Nadir sighed. "Thank you. I shall be back soon," he said before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Sighing, Eponine sat cross-legged on the bed, and did something she normally was not very good at.

She waited.

When the door finally opened, Eponine looked up expectantly, and immediately knew something was wrong. Nadir had this panicked look on his face.

"What is it?" Eponine asked, standing up.

"It's Erik," Nadir said.

"What about 'im?" Eponine asked.

"My fears were correct: Erik is drowning in depression. Very intense and serious depression." Nadir said.

"'ow bad is it?" Eponine asked.

"I fear he may try to take his own life."

Eponine's eyes opened wide.

"Listen, Eponine, I need you to help me stop Erik from doing this," Nadir said.

Eponine nodded. She wasn't exactly fond of Erik, but still, suicide was a sin. As if Erik hadn't committed enough already. The fiery pits of Hell most certainly awaited him if he took his own life.

"What can I do?" Eponine asked.

"I need you to go down to his lair – I believe he is still residing beneath the ruins of the Opera House – and convince him out of it."

Eponine's eyes opened even wider. "What?" she exclaimed.

"Eponine, he will not listen to me. You, however, may be able to nock some sense into him." Nadir said.

"Monsieur, I don't know if you remember, but Erik isn't exactly very fond of me. 'e may just kill me before killin' 'imself." Eponine said.

"If he wanted you dead, he would have let you die at the barricades. Please, Eponine. I know you aren't on the best of terms with him, but please. If not for Erik, for me. We are friends, are we not?" Nadir asked.

Eponine looked into the kind eyes of the Persian, and sighing, she nodded. "Fine, I'll try."

Nadir smiled. "Thank you. I'll owe you."

Eponine shook her head. "Just consider it payoff for lookin' after me while I was 'urt." She said, putting on her familiar coat and hat. By her request, Nadir had kept her old street clothes, but he had cleaned them, so they weren't as grimy as they had been.

"Wish me luck, I'll need it," Eponine said.

Nadir nodded. "All of my luck and prayers are with you, Eponine."

Eponine nodded, and taking a deep breath – and ignoring the slight stab of pain she still got from her wound – she exited Nadir's apartment, and walked into the streets of Paris.

Eponine looked at the ruins of the Opera House. Everything had collapsed, and there were remnants of soot everywhere. How was she supposed to find a way down to his lair?

Sighing, Eponine hiked up her skirt and trudged through the rubble. She would only find an entrance if she searched for one.

The mirror was probably not the best option, and neither was the entrance above the rafters. So, where to look? Eponine squinted, and her eyes brightened when she saw what looked like the entrance to the kitchens. He had to get food somehow. At least, when the kitchens were still working.

Digging around, Eponine made a cry when she saw a trap-door. It would have been hidden behind the stove normally, but the stove was now a pile of junk. Pulling on it, Eponine fell on her bum as it opened suddenly, and she stood up, wiping the dirt off her skirt before entering the dark tunnel.

The labyrinth below had not been touched by the flames, so Eponine had no obstacles as she walked through the cool and damp passages. Squinting, she followed the sound of water, and eventually she found herself at the edge of the lake. The gondola not being there, Eponine took off her coat, and pulling her hat on tighter, she jumped into the lake. It wasn't that deep, and she could probably walk through it if need be, but it would be quicker to swim through it anyways.

Eventually she came to the gate, and saw that it was closed. The reason being that standing on a chair against it, a noose tied over one of the bars and around his neck, was the Phantom.

"What are you doin'?" Eponine cried in alarm.

Erik turned around in surprise, and then frowned when he saw her. "Leave me in peace, urchin."

"I'd be 'appy to, but I'm afraid that leavin' you in peace isn't goin' to do you much good. Get down from there!" Eponine exclaimed.

"You are not one to tell me what I am to do!" Erik shouted.

"I am when you're not thinkin' properly!" Eponine replied.

"What would you know of that?" Erik snarled.

"I seem to remember bein' drugged by a certain masked man. No relation, I presume. Now get that thing off of your neck!" Eponine cried, running towards him.

"You can't stop me!" the Phantom cried.

Frowning, Eponine took a knife from out of her dress and smartly cut through the rope.

"There, I just stopped you. Now open the gate." she said, her hands on her hips.

Erik glared at her, but he relented, stepping off of the chair and pulling the lever, raising the gate. Eponine walked into the Phantom's lair, and he eyed her warily.

"Can I help you?" he asked irritably.

"You can 'elp me by not tryin' to kill yourself," Eponine replied, frowning at him.

"What do you care about whether I live or die? I don't ever recall us being close." Erik said.

"Oh, I can recall a number of occasions when we were "close" thanks to you tryin' to intimidate me. And I don't want to 'ave your ghost 'auntin' me because I've got a debt to you, if you really must know." Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"A debt?" the Phantom asked.

"You saved my life, remember? Or do they all blur together after a while? Oh, wait, that's the people you've killed." Eponine said sarcastically.

Erik bristled. "If you've come here to just insult me, you may leave. And for your information, I would not dream of haunting you, my little mouse. However, that booby Daroga is another matter." Erik growled.

Eponine raised an eyebrow. "Those who say what's not theirs to tell

Find too late that they should not have spoke at all." she sang, deliberately doing a bad impersonation of Erik's voice.

Erik raised an eyebrow in response. "And those who lurk where they should not

Find that they should have learned to use the door." he replied, singing in an awful imitation of Eponine's accent.

"My voice does not sound like that!" Eponine said indignantly.

"No, but you certainly do lurk where you should not." Erik said.

"Well, at least I don't 'ave one-way mirrors into people's dressin' rooms. That's just creepy." Eponine said.

"Like I ever peeked in on Carlotta. Listen, is there a purpose to you coming down here, or are you my punishment sent from God?" Erik asked irritably.

"You realize you just complimented and insulted me in that same sentence. It would 'ave been better 'ad you called me your punishment sent from 'ell or somethin'. And Nadir was afraid you were goin' to do somethin' stupid. I can see he was right," Eponine said, pointedly looking at the noose still partly around Erik's neck.

The Phantom snorted. "What do you or that booby care about whether I live or die? I should like to think that the world would be better off without me," he said, his eyes suddenly growing very sad. "I have not purpose here. I have been condemned, it would be so much easier on all of us if I were to just end it all – "

Erik was cut off by Eponine's fist hitting him in the face.

"What was that for?" Erik exclaimed.

"I can certainly understand feelin' sorry for yourself and needin' to wallow in that self-pity, but you just do that excessively. That, and I think I should warn you that every time you call Nadir a booby, you make my days of takin' you seriously less and less." Eponine said, putting her hands on her hips.

"I hardly think that's basis for punching me in the face." Erik said, putting his hand to his eye where Eponine had hit him.

"Yes, and happenin' across two of your passages is hardly basis for effrayer la merde hors de moi at the Masquerade." Eponine retorted.

"Fair enough, but you must understand that my trust abilities are very limited." Erik said.

Eponine shrugged. "Sure, I guess I can."

"Because of my face, I have hardly interacted with anyone before. I haven't had the opportunity to build trust because of this curse upon me –" Erik started, once more being cut off by Eponine's fist.

"Merde, what was that for?" Erik cursed.

"You were wallowing excessively again. Nadir wasn't kiddin' when 'e said you could be incredibly moody. You're 'opeless," Eponine said, putting her hands on her hips.

"If it was your goal to make me feel better about myself, I'm afraid you're failing miserably." Erik said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not tryin' to make you feel better; I'm tryin' to make sure you don't kill yourself. There's a difference. Now, why don't we sit down, and you tell me why you had these sudden suicidal intentions. And if you get too caught-up in your self-pity, I will hit you again." Eponine warned, sitting down on the stairs that led to the lake.

Erik looked at her and then sighed, sitting down across from her. "Well, let me start with a question that I believe that every person on Earth has asked: what is my purpose in life?"

"If that's what's got you so upset, I'm afraid I can't 'elp you there: I'm no fortune teller." Eponine said.

Erik shook his head. "No. You see, up until a week ago, I thought I knew what my purpose was. I thought it was to teach and love Christine. Obviously, that is not so. She has chosen to love the Vicomte, and in doing so has also rejected the rest of my teachings." Erik said.

Eponine pursed her lips. "So, you think you 'ave no purpose anymore. You think that there's no use for you in this world?"

Erik nodded.

Eponine sighed. "Well then, Monsieur, the answer to your problem is simple."

"What is this answer, pray tell?" Erik asked, looking up.

"Find another purpose," Eponine said.

Erik laughed. "I'm afraid it isn't that easy,"

"Well, you'll 'ave to make it that easy, because I'm comin' back 'ere in a few hours with food for you to eat so you don't starve, and I expect you to 'ave some sort of purpose planned out for yourself. One that doesn't involve you diein'." Eponine said, standing up.

"What?" Erik asked in alarm.

"Oh, and just as somethin' for you to think about: you may think you deserve to die and burn in the pits of 'ell, but do you really want to? Because eternal torture for your immortal soul sounds pretty painful. And that's certainly what awaits you if you kill yourself. Maybe your purpose could 'ave somethin' to do with redemption." Eponine said, looking Erik in the eye before turning and walking away.

"Eponine!" Erik called.

Eponine turned around. "Yes, Monsieur Erik?" she asked.

Erik blinked, probably out of surprise that she knew his name, and then shook his head. "You can use the boat if you want to," he said.

Eponine looked at the gondola, and shook her head. "No thanks, swimmin's more excitin'!" she said, grinning before diving into the lake.

Erik had cleaned himself off and set a table for dinner, so by the time Eponine arrived again, you couldn't even tell that he had tried to kill himself.

"Good to see you're still alive," Eponine said cheerily, walking out of the water with a basket in hand.

"I hope you didn't get the food wet," Erik said dryly.

Eponine shook her head. "Nope, I took extra care to make sure it wasn't soggy," she said, smiling and setting the basket down on the table.

"So, 'ave you thought of a purpose yet?" Eponine asked as she took out the food.

Erik took a deep breath. "I thought about it, Eponine, I really did, and it seems that the only thing I can do besides scare and murder people is teach. Teach music."

"I swear, if you start wallowin', I am goin' to hit you so 'ard you're not goin' to wake up for a week." Eponine threatened.

Erik shook his head. "No, no, that's not it. But I also thought about what you said, about redemption."

"And?" Eponine asked.

"Well, I thought that perhaps the best option for me at the moment to atone for all of the lives I've stolen is to help another life. Not only to save it, but to give it the hopes of a brighter future, a future that will bring success for this individual and possibly for any children that they may have." he said carefully.

Eponine nodded her head. "Sounds like a good plan. So, what are you goin' to do, give lessons to orphans or something'?" she asked.

Erik shook his head and smiled at the street girl. "No, I doubt they would be able to stand five seconds with me before running away in terror. No, I had one specific individual in mind."

Eponine gulped. She didn't like the way he was smiling at her.

"Eponine, how would you feel about becoming my next student?"

Yes, I'm evil. *laughs maniacally*

Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)