They turned to see a woman with golden- red hair standing in a large rowboat crewed by amused looking Englishmen.

"Hullo Marguerite, my dear!" Sir Percy called, pulling off the costume he had thrown over his almost entirely scarlet ensemble. "Fell through the time- space continuum?"

Marguerite was holding a little lap dog, which she scratched behind the ears. "Oui. Strangest thing, darling- you vanished, and Percy and I," here the dog gave a bark of recognition at his name, "were running all over the estate, looking for you. Next thing I know, I've fallen through the time-space continuum onto the 'Daydream'. The League members were already there, and we saw you on shore, so we decided to row over."

"That's remarkably convenient," Philippe remarked somewhat sardonically.

"It's a humor fic," Sir Percy replied.

"Well," Marguerite interjected with a sunny smile, "since we're all here, we've a convenient yacht, and there appears to be no other crucial plot points left to go over, do you just want to say that the fan- fic's nearly over and go back to the 'Daydream'?"

The characters from 'Les Miserables' and 'Phantom of the Opera' looked at each other in mild confusion.

"Might as well," the bishop murmured, pushing his hat up so he could scratch his forehead. "There doesn't seem to be any other sensible alternative."

"We might have to make a few trips," Marguerite murmured, blue eyes scanning the number of assembled fictional characters.

"Not necessary," Erik interjected coolly, pulling his boat out from underneath the pile of leaves he had hidden it under. "We can all manage to get to the yacht in about one trip. Once there, I'd like to consume massive quantities of alcohol until this strange rescue actually seems to make sense."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Philippe muttered, helping Erik push out the boat.

Somehow or another, they all managed to get on board the ship. Once there, Marius and Cosette took to standing on one side of the ship while holding each others' hands and staring into one another's eyes. They stood there, looking cute and silently daring any die-hard, fanatical Eppie/Marius shipper to try and separate them now.

Raoul and Christine had found a place to sit, and Christine was leaning against Raoul's chest, looking happy. Raoul looked equally pleased, and kissed Christine on the top of her head. The two were tempted to burst into song, but that would cause all the other happy couples to burst into their respective songs, and for Eponine and Erik (and quite possibly Valjean) to begin singing about how unhappy they were. So they didn't sing and merely sat together.

Percy and Marguerite were farther up on the deck conversing in quiet tones and playing with Percy the lap dog, who Sir Percy had named when he had been feeling particularly whimsical. Sir Percy had been feeling whimsical, not the dog, just to clarify. Every so often, Sir Percy or Lady Marguerite would trail off into silence and stare happily at the other. This happened in increasingly regular intervals, which annoyed anyone who was listening to their conversation.

Erik and Eponine, after moping over their misfortune at being the loser of the love triangle, were playing a game of chess, which became rather confusing, as Eponine didn't know how to play chess, and Erik was slightly sea-sick.

Valjean, Philippe and the bishop were attempting to help with the game of chess, and failing quite horribly, as Philippe had found a bottle of extremely strong brandy and was trying to see how drunk he could get before he landed. Philippe, as you had probably noticed, had not had a good day, and was desperately trying to forget it.

Also, Valjean and the bishop would get distracted about some arcane point in Biblical literature and begin discussing it in depth, thoroughly confusing everyone else who was around them, especially Philippe, who had become as drunk as Grantaire normally was.

The bishop suddenly raised a hand for silence, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Well, there are a few things I feel I must say," the bishop declared. "First off- someone should take the brandy from Philippe before he falls into a coma. Second- Can anyone figure out the moral of the story without me stating it?"

The other characters looked around in confusion.

"Never forget a disclaimer?" Christine guessed, thinking of the fan-girls being arrested.

"Well, that is important," the bishop agreed, "but no."

"Never give the Comte de Chagny alcohol when he's had a bad day," Sir Andrew Ffoulkes grunted, attempting to wrestle the brandy bottle away from Philippe.

"Another valid point, but no."

"Iz not a va... valid poin'," Philippe slurred, clutching the bottle of brandy to his chest possessively. "My brandy! Back off random English... Englishman!"

"How about the fact that my fan-girls are more powerful then anything but snuff-loving policemen?" Erik guessed, grinning. The yacht gave a lurch, and the feared Phantom of the Opera began to look more then slightly green.

"No," the bishop sighed. "But that probably is true, I'm sad to say."

"Always grab a copy of the author's plot notes?" Sir Percy drawled, polishing his gold eyeglass against his sleeve.

"No," the bishop repeated, beginning to feel more then a little annoyed, "though that definitely is useful."

"Copyright my hat and make a fortune off it?" Eponine guessed, attempting to make her king hop over a pawn.

"Again, no." The bishop sighed and rubbed his temples.

"If you write enough nonsensical things containing humorous incidences and oft repeated plotlines in your favorite fan-doms, you can call it a story and post it on the internet?" Philippe suggested, still trying to slap Sir Andrew away from the bottle of brandy.

"No, though you're remarkably lucid for someone who has finished off half a bottle of strong brandy."

"Always make sure you have filled out Section 24601 in your tax forms?" Marius guessed, still thinking along the lines of the law and things that could or could not be defended in court.

"Though it is imperative that you do so, no."

"Teenaged girls can be fooled into thinking I'm one of them if I wear a wig and a mask?" Valjean supplied tentatively.

"No, and that is a somewhat frightening point. Be glad that no one was around to take pictures. Any other guesses?"

"Even the most neglected characters have fan-girls that will sabotage the success of the other fan-girls who hate said neglected characters by failing to turn in tax forms and calling the police on their peers for copy-right infringement?" Raoul suggested, thinking of the group of fan-girls Christine had told him he had.

"Again, no!" the bishop nearly screamed.

The characters fell silent, thinking.

"Don't mess around with the facts actually set down in the original story you are attempting to write fan-fiction on?" Cosette guessed, smiling up at Marius.

"Exactly!" the bishop exclaimed, relieved that they had finally found the moral. "Also- please do not attempt to go against what the author of the work you are basing your story on has stated about his or her characters, plots, or situations. All together now!"


"To clarify," Marius added, "do not make Cosette and I hate each other, or make me fall in love with Eponine or anyone else, for that matter. I'm very happy with my wife and I love her very much."

Cosette blushed slightly. "And I love Marius, so please do not make me fall in love with anyone but him. Or turn me into a ditz, and him into an idiot. We are not. Also, do not force Eponine and I to hate one another- in the convent, I forgave her of all she did to me in my past, and now she is part of the repressed memories of my childhood. It's perfectly all right if you like writing stories about Eponine's love for my Marius, but having her obtain my husband's love destroys the appeal of her character."

"Also," Christine interjected, "do not make me hate Raoul-"

"Or turn me into a fop," Raoul added. "There's no actual evidence for that anywhere in Leroux's book, as has been stated before. And in the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, I am also not a fop. It really all depends on the skill of the actor portraying me."

"And please don't force Erik to keep me in his underground lair," Christine continued, lacing her fingers through Raoul's. "That mutilates his tragic character, as well as the moral of the story. I must also insist that you do not force Raoul to become abusive towards me. I assure you, we love each other every much, and Raoul does not act like that. It's fine if you enjoy writing about Erik's love for me, but him obtaining my love really destroys the moral of the story and his character."

"Did you notice how in most nineteenth century novels, the main characters always end up marrying their one true love?" Marguerite remarked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Please remember that when you write fan-fiction, m'dears," Sir Percy drawled, with a gentle, loving smile at his wife. "None of us are very likely to want to kill our spouses or intentionally hurt them in any way, shape or form." Marguerite's lap dog barked in agreement and Marguerite smiled.

"I think we all learned an important lesson," the bishop concluded.

"Indeed," grunted Sir Andrew, as Philippe managed to whack him in the eye with Eponine's left castle. "I should hide all alcohol on board this ship."

"I learned how to play chess!" Eponine volunteered, galloping her knight around the board randomly.

"I'm going to be sick," Erik mumbled as he dashed over to the railing of the ship.

"That's not a lesson," Eponine objected.

"That was more of an unneeded comment," Sir Percy remarked dryly. "Thank you for sharing, dear Phantom. Sir Andrew- there's some Dramamine in my cabin if you're not too busy with the Comte de Chagny."

"Sorry, Percy," Sir Andrew managed to gasp out as Philippe began hitting him with the brandy bottle. "I'm a bit busy."

"Do you want some help?" Raoul wanted to know, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Christine's.

"I'm... okay," Sir Andrew replied breathlessly as he attempted to pinion the far from sober Comte de Chagny to the deck.

"Shush everyone," Marguerite admonished. "We're near the resolution; let the bishop have his ending line."

The bishop cleared his throat importantly and straightened out his worn cassock. He turned to the assembled characters with a smile and declared, "Now let's all forgive the other authors for changing our stories, as, hopefully, they now know better. God bless you all!"

With that the Daydream sailed off into the sunset, where there were clouds that formed the words:


against the setting sun, simply because the author cannot think of a more creative way to end this fan-fic.