So I guess it's been some eight months since I put up the last update. Sorry about that. I can't guarantee further regularity, as my previous attempts at such failed miserably, but I'll at least make more than a token effort to put something out once in awhile. I've been on the busy side with my last year of high school, and Izzi has been with her first one, so that certainly puts the brake on our fic-writing. Anyway, I'd like to give a big thank you and a large container-ful of appreciation to the people who reviewed Afterthought even during its long hiatus. It is such feedback that gives us a large dose of happiness. Izzi says she loves you, and I concur. That said, here's the next chapter of our saga for you:

As time wore on and Erik stood still, contemplating the various churning thoughts and emotions, he noticed a man, also partway in the shadows, watching him. He took a step back into the shadows, reflexively, though of course he'd already been spotted.

Erik could instantly tell the man was used to shadow and quite acquainted with the people who hid in it. Though anticipating a confrontation, somehow Erik knew that the man would observe first rather than running up and accusing him of things.

Erik turned to watch the man in turn, his gaze steady. He kept his hand ready by a dagger he had but was just as ready to flee. He didn't know why the man was interested in him, but, hopefully, this would not be too much hassle. He began to get a bit angry when he clearly saw the look in the man's eyes; he was like a cat playing with a mouse, and Erik was the unfortunate rodent. Unflinching, Erik locked gazes with him, still and silent, daring the other man to make the first move.

He stared right back, as if trying to decipher something.

Erik shifted uneasily. Something about this man wasn't quite the same as every adversary he'd had in the past; no, here was someone who could watch his every move. But he has no reason to suspect me... right? Besides that I am a monster. Of course. Erik could never trust men. And so, as he stood there, waiting, he knew that he must suspect everyone, except Eponine. Perhaps the man would have left by the time she'd return. If not, well, there would have to be a confrontation, if the man's ground proved firm. Erik stood, resolute, ready, gaze fixed, stance set. He would not let himself be disturbed, not by an inspecting man, not by a cold wind, not by the feelings of impatience, nor the guilt that always came out to fill his mind in quiet times such as this. But no, banish the thoughts, banish the remembrances of deeds done, monstrosities undergone and committed. He would think only of Eponine, the one for whom he strived. He would wait for her, and nothing else in all this new world.

For a brief minute, the man turned away and Erik thought he might have gone, but he spotted his boot at the end of the alley, though he was hidden. The man certainly was suspicious, but who was he?

Now thoroughly nervous, Erik darted into another splotch of shadow, coming into sunlight only for part of a second, hoping that he'd gone suddenly enough that he'd lost the onlooker.

The man hadn't lost him and the heat was on now. He followed him viciously with his eyes, and was not about to lose him. He might have made his first move if not someone else had entered the alleyway on the other end.

Erik ducked behind the person, not even looking to see who it was.

"Erik?" the figure said in a nearly sweet voice, looking behind it and reaching out. "What's wrong?" Eponine's voice sounded normal enough now. Erik hadn't realized how long he'd been staring at the man.

Erik took her hand instinctively, then winced inwardly at the thought that he was being baby-ish. "We should go for a little while... explain later..." He ushered her quickly into another lane, pretending that he'd only grabbed her hand in order to lead her better.

Stepping into the light for a moment, he could see that her face was clean for once, her hair tied up in an actual ribbon instead of wire, and a clean outfit. "What's wrong?" she asked, stepping out of the light instinctively. "What happened?"

Erik moved his hand back. "There was a man there, watching, and I'm sure that he only meant me ill. I was barely able to evade him."

"Oh, probably a cop," Eponine said under her breath. "Ah, well..." She looked off wistfully. "I gave the rest of the money to my sister. She said she'd bring it back once she was cleaned up."

He nodded. "Well, you're looking very respectable now. Let's see about getting you that job."

She nodded a little, waiting for him to lead the way. She didn't necessarily want to work, but she had to help herself now. Being a moderately respectable citizen would give her a greater chance at Marius...but...do I really want him if he only sees me when I'm clean, and presentable? I was always comfortable with how I looked before, and being like this is an odd experience...I've been poor from a child and destitute from nine years. Can I change my way of life so quickly? What will Father think?

Erik started for the music shop again, taking a long way around, lest he be encountered again. "Well, here you are."

She looked in the window and sighed, seeing all the high-class instruments. She had never particularly loved music, though she found it entertaining, and she certainly wasn't going to try and play it. Would that matter for a job?

She slowly opened the door. "Hullo?" she asked in her convict's voice. She tried to clear it up and then tried again: "Hello?"

Erik stepped back, listening, ears alert.

A clerk waved at her. "Come in!"

Eponine did as she was told, standing near the doorway. "I was supposed to come here for an appointment?" she asked, clearing her throat. It made her voice sound a bit better, but still scratchy.

"I don't remember setting up an appointment with you, but I'll see if the boss has any notes." The clerk rummaged through some papers and came up with one. "Ah, yes, he says that there will be a woman to see him about a job this afternoon, highly recommended. Well, he's out at the moment, but I can interview you in his stead."

Eponine nodded. "That sounds...wonderful," she said with a grimace, trying not to use any slang, but it was quite hard.

The man took out some notepaper. "Well, to start with, what is your name?"

"Eponine Thénardier," she replied, going further away from the door and looking around at the shop's contents.

"Please, do take a seat." He frowned. "Well, where have you worked up to now?"

Eponine did as was instructed, afraid that if she didn't, she would loose the job—not that she wanted it in the first place. "Well...actually, I don't—didn't—work...my father did, but he...er...he's not there to take care of me, and I don't have a husband." Most of it was true, aside from the fact that her father cared more about money than taking care of her with that money.

He nodded. "Your first job. I see. But you are familiar with music?"

She bit her lip. "Not much...someone told me to come here, though..." Internally, she sighed.

"This is not a charity organization. You must have some useful skills. Well, can you do accounting?"

Oh, no, she thought, getting both nervous and angry. Why a music shop? He could have just thrown her into any old factory, and she would have been just fine! "I can calculate, yes," she said, looking away. "...and I can write and read...and...such."

He handed her some financial logs. "Can you make sense of these?"

Eponine looked down at them and thought for a moment. She knew a little of what she had to do from watching her father, so the logs weren't complete gibberish. "Yes," she said, looking up. Now she was just uncomfortable here, and didn't want to be. Just do what-ever, she thought, and relaxed in her seat. Looking the man in the eyes, daring him to refuse her, she repeated, "Yes." The expression was strange on a quite young girl like herself.

I wonder if anyone has any guesses as to who the person in the shadows is…