The Beauty Underneath

Part Three: The Song Inside of Me

Part Three: The Song Inside of Me

        Eponine looked shyly at the man in the mask. She still didn't trust him - she had learned long ago not to readily give anyone her trust - but there was something about this man that made her feel at peace, as if she were among friends. She glanced at his fingers, which were twitching nervously at his side. Obviously, he was greatly distressed by something, although Eponine was hesitant to ask what was bothering him. The man covered his head with his hands, making it apparent that he did not enjoy the rain as much as she did. Eponine sighed and took his hand.

        "Come with me, Monsieur," she said, leading him into the alley. His hand was soft and warm in hers, and her heart fluttered as their skin made contact. She blushed, then turned her face away from him so that he would not see. "I know a place where we can have shelter," she explained. She led him to the corner of the alley to a place she had not shared with anyone, not even Marius.

        "It's my special place," Eponine explained, indicating a dusty corner covered by a blanket. She wondered why she was so ready to reveal her secret spot to this strange man, but she felt comfortable around him. After all, she reasoned, he did hear me sing. She rarely sang in front of anyone, so the fact that she had given this man a private concert made him, in Eponine's eyes at least, practically family. "It's not much," she admitted, "but it's home."

        The man smiled. "It's wonderful," he said, and quickly ducked under the blanket and out of the rain. Eponine followed his suit, and soon they were both huddled in the corner underneath the dusty blanket. There was little room in that corner, so Eponine and the man were in very close proximity to each other. Their knees pressed together. Eponine pretended not to notice, although in reality, it was the only thing she was aware of.

        "So, Eponine," said the man, clearing his throat and breaking their silence. "Who is this boy you were singing about in that song?"

        Eponine raised an eyebrow. "My, my. That question was very direct," she remarked. She thought she saw the man blush, although it was difficult to tell because his face was obscured by that mask. "I'm sorry," the man mumbled.

        Eponine shrugged. "It's okay," she replied gently. She suddenly felt the urge to answer the man's question, and before she could stop herself, words came pouring out of her mouth. Her emotions, which she had bottled up and hidden behind a mask of toughness for so long, came out like a flood because, for the first time, someone was actually willing to listen.

        "His name is Marius," she began, her heart skipping a beat at the mere sound of his name. "Marius Pontmercy. He's a wonderful man, tall and handsome, but I don't like him just for his looks. No, the reason I fell hopelessly in love with him is because he is so kind and generous. He doesn't judge me because of my background. When he looks at me, he sees a person, not a filthy gamine. He is my only friend, but..." her voice trailed off as tears filled her eyes again. "That's all he sees me as. Nothing more than a friend. I try to capture his attention but he ignores me! And then the other day, he met this girl called Cosette. He only saw her for a second, but it was enough to convince him that he is in love with her. Then he asked me to find her for him. He used me to find her. He didn't even say thank you, he just ranted on and on about how wonderful his precious little angel his Cosette is, and I had to listen to it all! He never sees what I do for him. I could take a bullet for him and he still wouldn't notice me. All he cares about is Cosette." She quickly wiped away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "Listen to me, babbling like a child," she muttered, angry at herself for acting like such a baby. "It doesn't matter though. I'm not good enough for someone like Marius anyways. He's a rich bourgeois and I'm just an ugly gamine."

        "Don't say that," the man said firmly. "Don't ever say you're not good enough."

        Eponine laughed bitterly. "You don't understand, Monsieur..."

        "Ah, but I do understand," the man said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. In a soothing, almost hypnotic voice, he began to sing to her. "You feel ugly, you feel used. You feel broken, you feel bruised. Ah, but me, I can see all the beauty underneath. Yes, you've been robbed of love and pride, been ignored and pushed aside. Even so, I still know there is beauty underneath. Diamonds never sparkle bright, if they aren't set just right. Beauty sometimes goes unseen." He smiled at her, and Eponine stared at him in awe, wondering if what he had said could be true. The man gazed back at her, and then, in a quiet voice, sang one more line, a line that Eponine was quite sure she was not meant to hear. "Maybe I don't need Christine...."

        "Do you really believe that about me?" Eponine asked.

        "I do," the man replied in a firm voice.

        Eponine pondered what he had said. Could there really be something beautiful about her? All her life, she had been told she was worthless, ugly, filthy... The list went on and on. Could there really be beauty underneath? She wasn't sure.

        "Monsieur?" she asked tentatively. "May I ask you something?"

        "What is it?" the man said.

        "Who is Christine?"

        The man froze, his body growing tense. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "Christine," he murmured, his eyes full of pain. Eponine realized that her question might have been a bit too personal, and immediately backtracked.

        "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she said gently. "You never did tell me, Monsieur, if you are not a robber, then what do you do?"

        The man looked grateful that she had changed the subject. "I am a composer," he replied. "I write music."

        "And did you write that song you just sang to me?"

        "Yes," the man replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "I made it up on the spot. Songs do that. They just come to me. I can't explain it. When I'm feeling strong emotions, they come out in the form of music."

        "That happens to me too sometimes," Eponine remarked. "You know that song you heard me singing a moment ago? It just came out of my head. It was like the song was inside of me, waiting to be released."

        The man looked at her with interest, but did not say anything in reply. Instead, the two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other's company. Finally, the man broke the silence.

        "Erik," he said quietly.

        "What?"

        "Earlier, you asked me my name. It's Erik."

        "Oh," said Eponine. "That's a beautiful name."

        The man's fingers drummed nervously on his knees. He took a breath. "Do you still want to hear about Christine?" he asked quietly.

        (Author's Note: Hey! Hope you're enjoying this story. It's almost done. If you are enjoying this, then you might want to check out The Phantom of the Barricades, by jasminecat99. It's another les mis/ phantom crossover, and it's very good! Bye for now!)