Sorry for the delay in updating… I've been kind of busy :( anyway, many many thanks to the nice person who gave a review! The credit for the Les Miserables part really does solely belong to Izzi, so do bear that in mind… and check out her fics, too; her pen name is Erik Spice. And while you're at it, check out my other fic; it's lonely. Anyway, it has come to my attention that some people may be reading this without reviewing. Well, I hope you can live with the knowledge that you are causing some unhappiness to me. Anyway, onto the action:

"There he is!"

Erik heard a cry and started. It was morning; nearly midday. How he'd managed to either sleep or slip into a coma for that long was a bizarre prospect. He did not hear what little conversation ensued after that first cry, but the voice sounded very familiar. He went over to the door and peered out.

A handsome, dark-haired man was sitting against a tree, looking up, surprised, at a young girl who was standing over him. She smiled down at him affectionately with a smile missing a few teeth. "I've been looking for you," she said to the man, excited. "Didja know I've been in the jug? They let me go early, though, 'cos I'm two months underage. But if you knew how'd I'd been looking after you! A whole six weeks...you—you aren't living in the tenement anymore?" She spoke quickly, and she sounded both hurt and surprised that he wasn't living in this tenement she spoke of.

Erik leaned closer. He remembered her now... the impoverished-looking girl he'd seen at that garden. And now it sounded like she was sad about something, perhaps because of what she spoke about. He resolved to listen further.

"But, of course, you'd want to leave that place. After what happened, I mean. Awful stuff," she said, nodding. She looked at him for a moment. "You've a ratty shirt on today." The man had said nothing the entire time. "Why aren't you happy to see me, Monsieur Marius?" So this was the Marius he'd heard about. She sounded sad...but again, the man said nothing. "I could try to make you happy."

"What do you mean?" he asked somberly.

"Well, last time—"

"What do you mean, though?" he asked.

She stopped a moment, realizing he meant the comment about her making him happy. "It can't be helped, can it! It's alright, I'm not angry..." He was silent, so she answered, "You promised me something. And you must smile, you must!"

"Yes, yes, what is it!" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"I've got the address," she said calmly, wincing a bit when he turned pale.

Erik opened the door to the shed slowly, careful not to make a noise, and crept over to hide behind a dress on a clothesline.

"You mean...?" the man, Marius, asked slowly.

The girl sighed softly. "Yes...the address you told me to find. The young lady..." She sighed again, sadly.

Erik stayed where he was, but he wished he could get closer without danger of exposure. Young lady? And she's sad about it... and he's not nice to her... she must be like me, and she loves him but he must love the other one instead! But she shouldn't have to be as sad... she must not have my sad fate... that's it, I know, I must have come here for a reason. I must watch over her, like an Angel of Music, but instead be an Angel of Happiness, to rescue her from my plight, and give her into the arms of the man she loves.

He jumped up and took her hand. "You must take me to her! I'll give you anything you ask!"

"She's right on the other side of town, so I'll take you, but I only know the look of the house..." Next she said, in a sad tone which Erik had only heard in his own voice, "Oh...how excited you are!" Marius did not notice.

But, then his tone was serious. "You must promise—promise not to let your father know. You must promise this, Eponine."

She sounded surprised that he had called her by her name. "You...you know my..." Bewildered, actually.

"Promise!"

"I'm glad...I'm happy that you've called me Eponine," she said softly. "Real happy."

"Promise!" he cried, taking both her hands.

"Oh, my father! You needn't worry, he doesn't notice much," she assured him. "But I'll promise, if you really want me to. Heh, me—promise!"

"Good. Now, take me to her." He sounded urgent.

"Right now?"

"Yes! Yes!" he cried in excitement.

"Heavens...how excited you are...come along, then."

Erik inched after them. Where will they go? Is it somewhere Erik can follow? He hoped so, ever so much, for in this new Paris, what else was there for him to live for?

"But you should stay a ways behind me," the girl, Eponine, said to Marius. "It would confuse people to see you with a woman like me." Not that she was a woman at all.

Erik shivered. Why should she say such a thing?

"Wait, Monsieur," she said happily. "You promised me something."

Without saying a word, Marius took out a five franc piece, handing it to her.

She looked at it for a moment and over-turned her hand, letting the coin fall at Marius's feet. "I don't want the money, Monsieur," she said sadly, turning away and scurrying off, Marius following a few steps behind.

Erik followed, darting behind a lamppost. His face twisted into an expression of grief. How woeful is she! But Erik will make her happy.

Eponine led them both to the other side of town quickly, darting from doorway to doorway. The street they ended up at was deserted, a few large houses on the side. One of them had a wrought iron gate, two stories, and a garden, with a shed in the back. She led them to this one. "The gate is loose over there," she said, pointing. "You should be able to get in."

Erik watched from a distance, trying to figure out if he could get through there without them noticing him. It seemed unlikely...

Marius tested the bar and it moved, allowing just enough space for someone to squeeze in. He turned to thank Eponine, but the street was already empty.

Eponine had retreated via a side-street, bypassing low houses. The street lamps hung low with a red tint; an eerie shade of red. She leaned against a wall. "Stupid boy. Stupid...loving boy," she said, scolding herself over her pathetic words.

Erik slipped into the shadows of the side-street, standing by Eponine's side, but shaded so she could not see.

"Why are you sad?" he whispered, making a soft song of the whisper, like a beautiful murmur from without.

Eponine jumped and turned toward the voice, seeing nothing but shadow. She watched them carefully, clutching her chest. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

Erik did not come out, but sang, so as to fill the air with music all around.

The Angel of Music is here

Singing to clear away tears

The Angel watches over you

What is the cause of falling tears?

The Angel is here to help you

Eponine backed into the farthest wall. "Montparnasse?" she asked angrily. "Montparnasse, stop doing that this instant..." How did he get to be so good? she wondered. He sings just like someone in the play.

The music seemed to waft about her, lightening, swinging up into a high sweet pitch, down into the profoundest depths.

The Angel is no man you know

Let him into your mind and heart

He helps gain you your desire

He shall guide your heart to your love

And see your tears be washed away

Eponine tensed again. "Show yourself!" she cried again, at the shadows. "Stop and show yourself!"

The seeming source of the music bounced between the walls, back and forth, from above, then at one end, then another, and then from everywhere.

The Angel must never be shown

But let him aid you from the air

Let him be guardian for you, then

He will stay and wait here each day

He shall be ready once you are

Eponine inched away from the shadows, looking down the alley. "I'm going mad," she told herself, running out, glancing back a few times.

As she left, the music followed her behind, eerily calling to her.

The Angel of Music will wait

Until you return to his sight