A/N: This came to me when I was watching the scene in which Franz goes on a killing spree in the office. I thought to myself; what would happen if his gun didn't run out of bullets, and he hadn't turned the gun on himself? This is the result, inspired by a Les Miz song. The song is copyrighted to the owners of Les Miz, and any dialogue I used, as well as characters, from The Producers movie/musical is copyrighted to Mel Brooks and Tom Meehan.

And You Will Keep Me Safe

Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius

I don't feel any pain

A little fall of rain

Can hardly hurt me now

You're here, that's all I need to know

And you will keep me safe

And you will keep me close

And rain will make the flowers grow

- A Little Fall of Rain from Les Miserables

"Give me those freakin' books!" I scream at Leo, struggling to pull the two accounting books from his tight grasp. I can't let him turn us into the police. It's too early in the game, and who knows, maybe they won't even catch us if we keep quiet about our scheme to make millions off of a fraudulent musical.

But Mr. Leo Never-Tells-A-Lie Bloom has other plans. "I never should have listened to you!" he yells, yanking the books towards his chest. "I was an honest man!"

"An honest man? You were an honest mouse!"

"Oh how I HATE you!"

"Double! Double!"

We sling insults back and forth at each other for quite a while, acting more like third graders fighting over a swing than full-grown men. Once Leo tires of the verbal assaults, he decides to try physically assaulting me by jumping on top of me. And who just happens to drop in at this very moment?

Roger and Carmen, the two biggest fruits I ever met.

After Roger makes the observation that Leo and I look like we're . . . erm . . . celebrating to put it in his words, I push Leo off of me, letting him have the books, and march up to Roger. "You lousy fruit! You ruined me!"

Carmen steps in front of Roger to try to defend him, but I know how to get him to shut the hell up; I grab those chains around his neck.

"My chains! My Italian chains!" he screeches just as our next visitor decides to make his grand entrance, greeting us by shooting a few bullets from a pistol all while walking about with a crutch and his left leg in a cast.

You guessed it. Franz Liebkin.

"You have broken the Siegfried Oath!" he exclaims as Carmen, Roger, Leo, and I scramble about the room. "You must die!"

Franz shoots more bullets while we all frantically try to hide. Roger and Carmen pick what else but the closet while Leo and I dodge some bullets to look for a spot. We only manage to get under the desk. It doesn't take long for Franz to find us under there.

"Remember when I told you I'd tell you when we're in too deep?" I ask Leo as he inches closer to me.

"Yeah?" he replies.

"We're in too deep."

Franz approaches us, that insane-killer look plastered across his face. My heart is pumping against my chest. Leo is breathing heavily. "Alright, Bialystock und Bloom," he says. "Now I've got you! Say your prayers and auf wiedersehen!"

He raises his pistol, prepared to slaughter us like cows that will soon be turned into juicy hamburgers. Leo and I clutch onto each other and make desperate pleas for our lives. "Please don't!" I exclaim. "Franz, don't do it! We didn't mean to! DON'T DO IT!"

I expect to hear a gun shot despite our begging, but instead I hear a sound of disgust from our not-so-friendly Nazi.

"Sniveling cowards!" he shouts. "Cringing under a desk like baby booterflies! Now die like men!"

Tears burn my eyes, and I can hear Leo's soft weeping. I want to tell him that everything's okay, but I can't, especially when Franz has his gun pointed directly at him. Of course he picks Leo first; he's Jewish after all.

"Eine . . ." he begins to count.

"HELP!" I scream. No use in running. He'll shoot us either way.

"Zwei . . ."

"DEAR GOD, STOP!" Leo is staring down the barrel of the gun in terror.


Franz pulls the trigger just as I push Leo to the side, but the bullet is too quick. It punctures his chest, probably less than a centimeter from his heart considering I can still hear his breath. Franz turns the gun on me, but it fails to emit anymore bullets. He mutters a few German curse words as I thank my lucky stars and attend to Leo.

Blood is gushing out of his chest and all over his clothes. His body lies limp in my arms. I scream at Franz at the top of my lungs, overcome by a crashing wave of emotion. "YOU SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING COCK-SUCKING BITCH!" He flees the scene before I can add anymore insults to it, though. "ROGER, HE'S GONE! GET OUT OF THE CLOSET AND CALL 911!"

Roger and Carmen sneak out from the closet. Their mouths drop when they see Leo. "I'll call the police," Roger says, quickly making his way to the phone on the desk. "Carmen, darling, help out Max."

Without a word, Carmen kneels down beside me and stares at Leo with wide eyes. I don't know if Leo can make it until an ambulance comes. He's convulsing and his eyes are shaky.

"Stay with me," I tell him. "Just stay with me!"

I pull his blue blanket from his pocket and hold it against the wound in a desperate attempt to lessen the blood flow. "Max," he groans, spitting up blood in the process. His body becomes limper as each second passes by.

"They're already on their way. Someone called earlier saying that they heard gun shots," Roger explains after hanging up the phone. He looks down at us. "Dear God . . ."

"Leo, I don't know if you can even hear me, but Leo, I'm sorry!" I exclaim, burying my head in his shoulder. My words become slurred and incomprehensible from crying. I realize he doesn't have much longer. "I'm sorry I argued with you, I'm sorry I called you a lousy little mouse, I'm sorry I said I hate you! Oh God, Leo! I don't hate you, I love you! I don't want to see you go!"

Leo steadily spreads his trembling fingers apart and folds them into my hand. I clutch his hand just as I see his eyes close completely. The pulse in his hand dies away and his body becomes limp in my arms.

"LEO!" I scream, and then hold the corpse close to my body like it's some crude type of rag doll. I'm smeared in blood, but I couldn't care less.

"Max . . ." Carmen says, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. Even he's choked up. "Max, it's okay."

"Just put him down, dear. It will be alright," Roger tells me.

My hand won't depart from his, though. I allow my tears to drip onto his body. I cry harder and louder than I ever knew I was capable of. I hope this is all a dream, or maybe my tears will make him come back to life, but I know I'm only hurting myself by thinking that.

But I just want to see his little smile again, and I want his shaky, insecure voice to say my name one last time. I want to wrap my arm around his warm shoulders and sit on the couch with him, chatting about the Great White Way, and most of all, I want to see him wear that "producer's hat" he's been dying to get his hands on.

Forget about that one. It must be five years old by now. Instead, I take off my hat and gently place it on his head, a bittersweet smile wiggling its way across my face.