Sorry this chapter took a little while to get up. Me and my sister have jobs, I have schooling, plus family situations and other stuff that we have in our lives. In short, we're pretty busy. (The first chapter took about this long to write too.) So I can't promise that we'll have a new chapter up within a week, but we'll definitely keep chugging along, writing when we get some spare time. And since there's two authors, we decided that a note from me (SubtleFighter) would be in bold, whereas if it's from FallenScarletRose it will be italicized.

Also, I heard a rumor going around that this site has banned answering reviews. We think that'd be horrible if that were true, since reviewers are the life-blood of the stories. So until we hear definitely that we can't reply to reviews, we're gonna reply to reviews.

I just want to say "Thank you" for all that reviewed. (cries) I just love you all so much!

Now for the reviews!

Prd2bAmerican18 – Thank you!

tink8812 – That's cool that you like "Court of Miracles" so much. I asked my sister, and we both like "Hellfire" and "The Bells of Notre Dame" the best, although we like all the songs from Hunchie. I love the Hunchie book (my sister hasn't read it yet), although it's pretty depressing. We decided to go with the movie rather than the book because we know the movie characters more. As for Esmeralda's age, the answer is in this chapter. Thanks for reading!

Sharpie – Basically, how we got the idea to do a Hunchie/Phantom crossover was because we was sure someone had done it already (because it seemed so obvious), so we searched around this site; and shockingly, no one had done it! So I went, "That's it. We have to do it." I'm glad we weren't the only ones with the idea! As for using wording that's corresponding to the time period, well, we're not even sure what time period it's in since the two stories took place in different centuries. So I can't promise that we won't use phrases that weren't around in the middle ages/19th century (especially neither of us are experts in that sort of thing), but I can promise we won't do something like have Erik stop to answer his cell phone. (Lol, now that's a weird thought!) Thank you for your compliments.

Dernhelm – Your review made me laugh out loud! "Misunderstood Fugly 'Monsters' Who Just Don't Get A Happy Ending", lol, that should be a separate genre! Yeah, we thought the concept was obvious too, and we were shocked that no one had done it, so that's why we decided to do it. Glad others like the concept! Thanks for your enthusiasm.

UnknownWorldCreator – Thanks. Here's chapter 2!

Chapter 2

"STOP!"

Those that were around the woman gave her confused looks as she began shoving her way to the front of the crowd. The cloaked figure was looking around with what might pass for a horrified expression on his face. Probably for his mask, she thought. When the mask had come off, the men that were fighting him had stopped dead in their tracks and now stood gaping at the incredible sight in front of them. At the sound of his name on some stranger's lips, Erik had also been startled. The rumble had come to a halt, and a hush fell over everyone in the Court of Miracles.

I have to take advantage of the confusion, the woman thought. "Stop this right now!" she yelled again, now standing right in front of the scaffold.

Clopin blinked his eyes a few times, then glanced at her. "You know this . . . ," he looked at Erik with a slight gleam in his eye, ". . . man?"

"Yes, I do. Release him at once."

Clopin glanced back and forth between her and Erik a few times, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. Finally, he raised his hand in assent, waving it at the men around Erik. The men seemed all too glad to get away from the gruesome being, scurrying off as quickly as they could. Erik, on the other hand, had his head bent in such a way that most of his face was shadowed by his fedora. A wave of compassion rushed over the woman as she saw this. How terrible it must be for him to have everyone hate him so much because of something he was born into! And then to have his face carelessly exposed like that!

A bleating noise at her side interrupted her train of thought. She glanced down and saw Djali with his head down, chewing on a shiny, white object. The mask! She quickly grabbed it from the goat's mouth before too much damage was done. On inspection, it now had a few new scratches at the bottom and it was covered in slobber, but otherwise it was fine. She wiped the drool off on her dress, grimacing a bit. Then she raised the mask up to the shadowy figure. From what she could see of his face, he was staring at it incredulously. She also became aware again that everyone was still staring at them.

"Come on," she entreated softly.

As this new woman led him off the scaffold, Erik's head was spinning. He wished he could taken them all on; make them pay for how they treated him. But there were too many of them, and he wasn't stupid. He'd already seen what happened when he tried to overpower them. Oh, well. It wasn't like he wasn't used to hiding from people for his own safety.

His eyes drifted to the woman in front of him. Her hair was dark and hung in soft curls around her head. Just like—

Nobody. Just like nobody.

And yet he did know her from somewhere. Come on . . . . Where had he heard that voice before? . . . Ah, yes . . . .

It was when he was still in the clutches of the gypsies as a sideshow freak. He was fifteen. His . . . caretakers had decided that making him look even more like a corpse would draw in more money. So they started feeding him less and less. Pretty soon, his already lanky form began to shrink even more. He was dizzy and weak all the time. Just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, they would give him a few pieces of bread, which wouldn't be nearly enough. It seemed like all he could think of was the growling pain in his stomach, so he didn't have the energy to play his tricks on them, which probably only encouraged them to keep him in this condition. He often thought he would just keep whiddling away until he actually did become dead.

But one day, after one of his "performances", he was leaning against the back of his cage trying to go to sleep, when a little girl quietly came up behind him. She was about five years old. Her jet-black hair fell messily to her shoulders, and her clothes were in the traditional gypsy style. He had groaned inwardly. A gypsy child come to laugh or throw more stones at him.

But instead, she'd simply stared at him with a sad look in her eyes. "Does it hurt?", she'd asked in a soft, sincere voice.

He'd turned to face her. To his surprise, she was gazing at his face with compassion. There wasn't a trace of malicious intent to be found in her eyes. He was slightly amused. She thought his face had gotten that way because of some injury? He almost chuckled. Did it hurt to have his face? He stared at her for several seconds, appraising her.

"Yes, it does," he'd replied honestly.

The little girl came closer. He shrank back instinctively. Just then, his stomach growled. The girl looked pensive, then reached into her pocket, pulled out a big chuck of chicken, and held it up to him.

"I didn't finish my dinner," she'd explained. "So they told me to take it with me to eat later . . . but you look hungry."

Erik was astonished. Completely overwhelmed. Just the fact that this little girl not only was not repulsed by his appearance and was immediately sympathetic that his deformity might be causing him pain, but she also was willing to give up some of her own food . . . . He couldn't help the tears that were forming in his eyes. Never in his life had he experienced something like this. Never in his life.

He just sat there, trying to control the sobs that overtook his body. She stared at him confusedly, then glanced meaningfully at the chicken in her hand, which was still outstretched in an offer to him.

"Come on," she'd said softly, her eyes wide.

Erik, almost reverently, reached his hand out through the bars of the cage and took the food. The girl watched him eat it with an innocent smile on her face.

"Thank you," he'd said with his voice full of emotion.

She smiled wider, her emerald eyes sparkling. "I'm Esmeralda," she'd told him. "What's your name?"

The Spanish name suited her. She was a rare jewel indeed.

"Erik."

After that, she'd come by every day to see him. And every day she'd bring him some food she'd saved. He savored every visit, since it was his only source of human contact. She even defended him whenever the other children would make fun of him. Soon, his body started to fill out more and his strength began returning to him. And when he escaped from the gypsies not long after that, his only regret was that he'd never see her again.

And yet here she was, twenty years later, leading him into the safety of a green and yellow tent in the middle of the Court of Miracles. He would've chosen another fabric to construct the tent—he knew of another type that would last longer—but the color was intriguing . . . .

"I'm sorry about the way they treated you," she was saying, pulling down a curtain at the entrance once they were inside to give them some privacy. He relaxed a little, being out of the public eye. "Believe it or not, it's nothing personal. It's just that this minister named Frollo has been hunting us down for years. And if he found this place, he'd kill us all. So, as you can see, we're pretty jumpy about strange men appearing in our hideout."

He couldn't say he was too sad about the prospect, although he didn't wish any harm to come to her.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle, but I wish to clarify something," Erik told her. "Your name is Esmeralda, is it not?" He was pretty sure it was her, but she had been only five the last time he saw her, so he wanted to be certain before he started making conversation with some woman he didn't know who happened to look like her.

"Yes," she replied, smiling, "although I'm a little surprised you remember me after all this time."

Of course I remember you, he thought. You saved my life. "You decided to leave that other group?" he asked.

Esmeralda nodded and found a place to sit. She motioned for him to sit next to her, but he shook his head. "I left as soon as I was old enough to take care of myself," she told him. "I couldn't stand being around people who treated others like dirt just because they're less fortunate than they are. I'd heard about the Court of Miracles in Paris for years, and I decided I wanted to go there. So the next time they traveled by here, I took Djali and left to find it. Eventually I did, and here I am."

"Did the people here welcome you as openly as they did me?"

She got a wry expression on her face. "They were wary at first, but I convinced them pretty quick that I was one of them. Now things are going good in my life."

It must be nice to have people around who are like you and accept you, he couldn't help thinking sarcastically.

"The people here are much nicer than the others," she continued. He resisted the urge to laugh. "We just go about our business, not hurting anybody." She smirked. "Unless, of course, you're a Frollo spy," she revised.

He gave a small smile behind his mask. It felt so weird to be having a normal conversation with someone. He wasn't sure he even remembered how. He hadn't had much chance for small talk while he was living under the opera house. Who would he have talked to anyway, the rats? The only person he interacted with was Christine, and they certainly didn't have normal conversa—

He cursed under his breath. No, he ordered himself angrily, I will not even THINK about her.

When he glanced back at Esmeralda, she looked startled. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

He turned away, annoyed that he'd said it outloud. "Nevermind." He'd have to be more careful in the future.

She paused, then shrugged it off. "So, Erik, what have you been doing these past twenty years?" Esmeralda folded her arms in front of her.

He turned back to her with a smirk that she couldn't see. "I died," he joked. "In fact, I was quite a popular ghost for awhile."

Just then, they heard a shrill whistle, which interrupted Esmeralda's response. "We only have one more day. Let's continue with our preparations!" they heard the skinny man from before shout. Esmeralda jumped up from her seat.

"Who is that man?" Erik asked.

"Him? He's Clopin, our leader. Listen, I gotta go rehearse for tomorrow. Do you mind if I leave you here for a little?"

"Rehearse?" he repeated. "For what?"

"Tomorrow's the Feast of Fools. It's a big celebration that we have every year. Everyone stops what they normally do and has fun and breaks the rules. Even Frollo doesn't come after us then, unless we really do something to make him mad. So we mostly have the run of the show." She stopped and smiled. "Hey, why don't you come along?"

"Me? I don't think so." Was she crazy? Him, going out in broad daylight in the middle of a crowd of people?

"A lot of people wear masks or costumes," she pointed out.

He paused. People go there in costumes and masks?, he thought. But those people can take off their masks at the days end. What if something would happen and people would want to see who is underneath? That's a risk I don't want to take.

Esmeralda sighed. "Well, it's not until tomorrow anyway. Why don't you think about it? Let me know if you want to come." She gave him a final smile and then disappeared through the curtains.

But yet, even after she was gone, the thought still raged in his head.

The Feast of Fools.

What would happen if he went?

If you remember what happens during the Feast of Fools, you may have an idea of what's gonna happen next. Next chapter the story really gets rolling!

Next chapter we will show you the king of fools. HUNCHIE!

Once again, please review and thank you to everyone who already has. You have no idea how happy you've made us :)