Enjonine

Someone To Hold Onto

Eponine huddled on the couch, her knees pressed up against her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested on her knees and she stared blankly at the wall opposite her. 

She couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept in days… or at least, it felt that way. The truth was, she was terrified to close her eyes. Every time she did, a thousand things danced before them, things she didn’t want to remember. Voices echoed through her mind, a cycle that never ended. She was safe, they had assured her of that… but the memories never left her alone.

It had been a week since Enjolras had found her, huddled in the ditch of a Paris alleyway, bloody, bruised, and starving. He had scolded her at first, angry that she hadn’t simply called for help when she first had needed it. She had gasped out her story in broken words, trying to make him understand… his expression had never changed, but she had seen the worry in his eyes. 

She was alone right now, too afraid to leave the apartment. The others were off taking classes or maybe they were at the Musain right now… she hadn’t really bothered paying attention when they told her their plans. She was too tired even to cry. Oh, she wanted to sleep… so badly…

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to force her body to relax. She had been constantly on edge, ready to bolt like a frightened deer at the merest shadow of a threat. But the darkness was a curse… a threatening enemy. Faces loomed at her, towered over her, shouted words sending shivers through her body. She cried out, her eyes flying wide open, and her gaze met Enjolras’ concerned blue eyes. He was standing in the doorway, holding his backpack, and looking at her curiously. Startled, she clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her shout of surprise.

“Are… you okay?” 

She shrugged, hiding her face in her folded arms. Silence. And then she could hear him step closer, heard the door shut softly. He heaved his backpack to the floor, and then sat beside her on the couch, brushing his fingers against her arm.

“What’s wrong, ‘Ponine?”

“Can’t sleep,” she murmured, her voice muffled. 

“Maybe if you went to your room, it’d be easier,” he laughed. “I know from experience that sleeping sitting straight up on the couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable situation.” 

“It’s not that,” she sniffed. “It’s the nightmares…”

“They’re getting worse?” his tone changed and he laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. She nodded, lifting her face.

“Every time I close my eyes…” she whispered. “I… I can’t… I’m gonna die of exhaustion…” she was crying now, shocked to find she still had tears left in her. “I keep hearing those voices… and everything that happened… it swirls through my head… even when I do sleep, I’m more exhausted than if I hadn’t…” her words ran over each other, almost unable to be understood. She was sobbing, shaking with fatigue. 

“Shhh, don’t…” he murmured awkwardly, wrapping a tentative arm around her. “You’ll only wear yourself out more, crying like that…”

She turned into his half-embrace, burying her face against his shoulder, and sobbed harder. 

“It was horrible,” she cried incoherently. “I’ve been so afraid… I can’t get a moment’s peace… I’m sorry for being so much trouble, I don’t… I don’t mean to be… I…” she went on, stammering garbled phrases, half of them not even making sense. She couldn’t think straight. 

He didn’t speak, just sat there in silence, listening, while she poured out her torrent of words. She was clinging to him now without even realizing it, desperately afraid to be left alone. He lifted his hand, gently wiping away her tears, and let it rest on her head for a moment. Slowly, the tension was beginning to leave her body, her panicked sobs giving way to quieter sniffles, but she was still shaking. He ran his fingers through her hair, wrapping his other arm tight around her shoulders. 

“I… I can’t…” she breathed, her voice growing weaker. “So… t… tired…” 

“Just close your eyes,” he whispered. “It’s okay, ‘Ponine… I’m here…”

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered back.

“I won’t.” 

She was already asleep, curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. He could hear her breathing slow… deep and even. She seemed peaceful. For a long moment, he stared down at her, brushing tangled strands of hair back from her tear-stained face. Something about her suddenly frightened him… his heart was doing funny things. He shifted sideways tentatively, cautious not to wake her, and reached for a book on the table beside the couch.

More than two hours ticked slowly by. Enjolras paged idly through the book, more focused on the girl sleeping in his arms than the words on the pages before him. She hadn’t moved in all that time, except to let out a sleepy murmur every time he adjusted his position. Not one sign of the nightmares that had tortured her for days. 

The sun had gone down, the room growing darker… he had forgotten to turn on a light. Not for the world would he have gotten up to turn it on again, so he simply sat there in the dark, holding his book, and listening to her breathing. He could hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he groaned inwardly… that would be Courfeyrac back from his evening classes… the door opened and Courf poked his head into the room, his hand on the light switch, but he didn’t turn it on. He glanced around, his eyes falling on Enjolras and Eponine on the couch, and he barely stifled a gasp. Enjolras glared at him, lifting a finger to his lips.

“She’s… asleep…” Courfeyrac whispered, his eyes wide, and Enjolras nodded. “She hasn’t slept in days,” he added. “What’s… going on?”

Enjolras only shook his head, hoping Courf would go away. He didn’t want to speak, afraid to wake her. 

“She was pacing her room all night last night,” he went on, still staring in disbelief. “I was afraid she’d die, she’s been so tired…” 

Eponine stirred slightly, mumbling something, and Enjolras froze. If she woke up, so help him, he was going to kill Courf. Or if the talking happened to trigger her nightmares and she woke up screaming… instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, bending his head to rest his cheek against her hair, while glaring a warning at his friend. Eponine sighed happily, nuzzling against him, and fell silent again. He didn’t care how long it took, he wasn’t moving for as long as she needed him to be here. 

“I…” Courfeyrac edged towards his own room. “I’ll go… and let her sleep… sorry…” but he paused in the doorway and grinned teasingly at his friend. “You really are just a big old softie, aren’t you?” He laughed quietly while Enjolras rolled his eyes.

Nightmares

Eponine woke up crying. Outside her window, jagged lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled eerily. She felt a chill creeping over her… she was terribly cold and she wanted to dive under the covers, but she couldn’t sit still here in the dark with that storm raging outside. Not with the memories that were flashing through her head, the memories that had distorted her sleep with nightmares and left her terrified. 

She sat there in bed for a long, long moment, arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked slowly back and forth, fists clenching the covers against her mouth to muffle her sobs. The longer she sat there, the harder she cried until she was trembling everywhere. She wasn’t afraid of storms, it took more than that to scare her, but the relentless thunder and lightning somehow only made her feel that much more lonely and miserable.

There was no use trying to sleep again. She was too worked up, too cold, too afraid… and her head ached horribly. She dragged herself shakily out of bed, pulling the tangled covers with her as she tried to free herself from them. She almost fell to the floor, stumbling forward as she pulled the blankets away. Shoving open the bedroom door, she slipped out into the hall, remembering just in time that there were other people sleeping around here and she had to somehow stay quiet. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, shuddering with suppressed sobs as she staggered to the kitchen. She needed water, and maybe just to turn the light on and sit up for a while.

Enjolras was dragged reluctantly out of sleep by a thump from Eponine’s room and the sound of her door swinging open. He usually was a heavy sleeper, but the storm had already interfered, leaving him just on the edge of consciousness. He groaned at first, pulling the blankets over his head as he rolled over onto his stomach, trying to get back to sleep. But he didn’t miss the quiet footsteps through the living room and towards the kitchen. With another groan, he rolled onto his back again and blinked up at the ceiling.

“Eponine?” he whispered into the darkness. “What on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t hear him… but he could hear the sound of her muffled sobs in the kitchen. He hesitated for a moment, and then got up, moving silently to stand in the doorway. 

She was slumped over the kitchen sink. The faucet was running and a glass dangled from her hand, but she wasn’t bothering to fill it. Her head drooped as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears tracing their way down her cheeks. Her shoulders were shaking. She hated this feeling, the one she was always trying to fight. It never completely left her, that miserable, painful feeling of worthlessness and misery, but it was stronger now than it usually was… stronger than it had been in a while. It was washing over her in waves, threatening to drown her in its icy depths.

And suddenly, she was surrounded with a sunny warmth that chased away the chill. Without even saying anything, he had wrapped his arms around her from behind, bending his head to press his cheek against her hair. She went limp against him with a shuddering sigh, nearly dropping the glass still in her hand. He took it from her, reaching forward to the faucet. He would have filled it for her, but she twisted in his arms, turning against him to hide her face against the warmth, clutching his shirt with both hands. She was crying harder now, although she didn’t know why. 

He turned the water off instead and pulled her closer against him, running his fingers through her hair while he pressed his other hand against her back.

“Shhh,” he whispered, as if comforting a frightened child. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He didn’t know what on earth was wrong, but it didn’t matter.

“I… I… can’t…” Eponine gasped out between sobs, not knowing what she was trying to say. A deafening clap of thunder rattled the windows and she sagged against him, holding on tighter as her knees buckled. He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, carrying her back into the living room.

It was dark in there, with only the glow of light from the kitchen doorway extending a little ways into the room on one side and the momentary flashes of lightning coming through the window on the other side. Enjolras sank onto the couch, reaching for a blanket with one arm while the other never let go of her. He wrapped it around her shoulders, gently brushing back the hair that fell loose and tangled around her face. 

“You’re freezing,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”

The darkness didn’t feel lonely and threatening anymore… just warm and comfortable and peaceful. Eponine didn’t answer at first, just lay back against him, drawing slow, deep breaths as she let the tension fade from her body. 

“Just a bad dream,” she whispered, her voice growing steadier. “That’s all.”

He nodded. He knew it wasn’t just that. It was never that simple. But he never pressed for answers. She would tell him if she needed to. 

“It’s better now,” she added faintly, tucking her head under his chin and letting her eyes fall shut. She was still clutching handfuls of his shirt, but her grip had loosened a bit. 

“Wish I could protect you from the nightmares,” he smiled sadly, holding her tighter. He tilted his face down and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Just don’t let me go,” she breathed. It was funny… she couldn’t put it into words… how this made the nightmares worth it… how it was almost good to go through the horror and fear and pain to be held like this… 

“I won’t,” his voice was firm, reassuring. And it suddenly held more conviction than usual. He was almost overwhelmed by the urge to protect her, to hold her close like this for always…. The words slipped out before he could rethink them. Surely there were ultimately better times and places to ask such a life-changing question as that… but it was already out… and she already knew. 

“Marry me,” he whispered urgently. “I’ll never let you go.”

Enjo Stabbed

“Enjolras, what on earth have you done now?” Combeferre sighed longsufferingly as he glanced up from his lecture notes, and Eponine smirked from where she sat on a corner of the couch with her book. It seemed that Combeferre said a version of that phrase nearly every other day. 

“Nothing,” Enjolras snapped abruptly, shoving the door shut with his shoulder. Eponine looked up as she finished reading the paragraph she was in the middle of, and shut her book. It took her a second or two to realize that something was wrong. Enjolras leaned against the door wearily, his face pale as ashes, and his hands clutching his stomach. 

“Are you okay?” she was instantly concerned. She looked him over carefully, and when her eyes reached his hands pressed against his side, she froze, her book falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Blood was seeping from beneath his fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he sounded annoyed. “Jus’ gonna… catch my breath a minute…” He didn’t move.

“You’re hurt…” Eponine jumped up from her spot on the couch, crossing to his side in a moment. “Let me see…” she pried his fingers off but he pulled away, clamping his hand over the blood soaking through his jacket. She barely caught a glimpse of torn fabric.

“It’s fine,” he insisted, straightening up for a moment and then slumping back against the door again. Eponine glanced back at Combeferre in panic. He was already putting his notebook aside and shoving his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he moved forward.

“C’mon, man, don’t be so stubborn,” Combeferre frowned. “What happened?” He wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and firmly led him to the couch, pushing him down onto it. Enjolras let himself be moved, but he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have time for this, Ferre,” he sighed. “I have an exam in the morning…”

“And you’re going to reschedule it,” Eponine spoke in a tone that was not to be argued with. Except, of course, Enjolras couldn’t help but argue. And he did so, as she went to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom while Combeferre forced him to lean back and peeled up the hem of his jacket so he could get a look at whatever had happened.

“You’ve been stabbed,” Combeferre said bluntly, and Eponine gasped, nearly dropping the first aid kit. Enjolras only rolled his eyes again.

“Damn it, I know, Ferre,” he groaned, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. 

“It’s pretty bad,” Combeferre went on, in an almost clinical tone. Eponine leaned over his shoulder, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the stab wound in the side of Enjolras’ torso and the blood that was now dripping onto the couch. Combeferre reached automatically for the first aid kit, rummaging through the supplies. “Ep, help him get his shirt off,” he ordered, adjusting his glasses again before pulling out a few supplies and setting them out neatly, his organizational instincts kicking in, even in an emergency. 

Eponine leaned forward, already undoing the first few buttons of Enjolras’ shirt. He protested, feebly trying to push her hands away, but she kept going, pushing the fabric down over his shoulders as gently as she could. 

“Oh, Enjo…” she breathed, horrified as she glanced over his torso. The deepest wound was lower in his side, but he had a few fairly deep gashes across his chest and another running down his upper arm. “What… what even…” her voice faltered and Combeferre pushed her aside gently, his voice reassuring as he pressed a gauze pad against the wound in Enjolras’ side.

“Don’t worry… we’ll patch you up quickly and get you to the hospital. In the meantime, how about you tell us how this happened?”

“Knife fight, of course,” Enjolras answered, as if it was a perfectly rational daily activity. But his voice was strained. “And I’m not going to the hospital. I have too much to do. Exams… in the… morning…”

“Oh yes, you are going,” Eponine glared at him as she unwrapped another gauze pad and held it out to Combeferre. “You freaked out when I got hurt, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as this, so you have no excuse.”

“Ep…” Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut, moaning in pain as Combeferre pressed down on the wound in attempt to slow the bleeding. He reached out, his fingers tensing, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Just breathe,” she murmured to Enjolras, her eyes worried as she watched Combeferre. He added a third gauze pad before he was satisfied, and nodded to Eponine. 

“Toss me that roll of bandages,” he frowned and then added to Enjolras, “I just need you to lean forward so I can wrap this up, and then we’ll get going.”

Enjolras didn’t answer while Combeferre wrapped the bandages around his stomach, but he opened his eyes again and tilted his chin forward determinedly. “Thanks, Ferre,” he mumbled, pressing his hand against the bandages as he stumbled to his feet. “I’ll be… okay now... just gonna… gonna grab some ibuprofen… and get to work… studying.”

“Ibuprofen??” Eponine laughed in spite of herself. “You think that is going to help? You didn’t hit your head, did you? Because you don’t seem to be thinking clearly.”

“What else can we expect?” Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty much how he is, no matter what. Stubborn as a box of rocks, and you know it, Enjolras. Please, I’m begging you, go to the emergency room!”

“I’m sorry, is this your stab wound?” Enjolras spun around to glare at them both. He was barely standing upright, his face twisted with pain as he clutched his stomach, but he looked angry too. “Stay out of it!” he snapped and turned heel, moving towards his room. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he folded in on himself, collapsing on the floor like a ton of bricks.

Eponine shrieked, running to fall on her knees at his side. “Oh my word… Ferre… What do I do?” her hands were trembling as she reached out and then pulled away, afraid to touch him.

“Call me crazy, but this is a good thing, in a way,” Combeferre sighed as he moved to kneel beside her. “Believe me when I say an unconscious Enjolras is much, much easier to deal with. I’ll just call for an ambulance.” He was already pulling out his phone, punching in a few numbers. “We need to get him flat on his back,” he added quietly as he jammed the phone between his head and shoulder. 

“Yes, hello…” he spoke into the phone as he and Eponine together carefully rolled Enjolras onto his back. “My friend has been stabbed and he’s fainted. I’m currently doing first aid…” he glanced at Eponine and pulled the phone away for a moment, speaking in a whisper. “Get some pillows, we need to prop his legs up.” 

As she scrambled to grab pillows from the couch, Combeferre told the emergency operator their address, his voice calm and controlled. Eponine marvelled at the fact that he didn’t seem to be freaking out. He put the phone on speaker and set it aside while he carefully stacked the pillows under Enjolras’ legs.  “Eponine… calm down…” he whispered sharply, frowning at her. “I don’t need you passing out too. Breathe.” 

“Breathe…” Eponine echoed distantly, a violent tremor passing through her body as she tried to force herself to hold still. Combeferre was still calmly busy, talking to the emergency operator occasionally as he continued to go through steps of first aid. Eponine’s hand was still shaking as she reached out again, tentatively brushing a few strands of hair back from Enjolras’ face, her heart twisting with fear to see him so pale and still. 

“They’re on their way…” Combeferre’s voice seemed to come from far away… distant and echoey. Eponine nodded vaguely, hardly comprehending his words as she dared to touch Enjolras again, laying her hand against his cheek. 

Hugs

❥ sinking into each other: melting until there is not an inch of space between them

She hesitated on the landing, staring at the front door as if it was a barrier she must break down. Her stomach turned and her heart was beating too fast. Unnatural. She took a long, slow deep breath in a futile attempt to calm herself and then knocked on the door, quickly, before she got too afraid to do it at all. Silence. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door at all. She had probably come too early… Likely he was still asleep… she knocked again, noting that her hands were trembling. If he didn’t open soon, she’d just leave again. More silence. And then footsteps, stumbling across the floor… she could hear the lock turning and her heart beat even faster… and then the door swung open, and there he stood, leaning wearily against the door frame. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. His eyes were red, his hair a tangled mess… he glanced down at her dismissively, almost annoyed… and then his face changed. Surprise at first, and then overwhelming relief. He reached for her, hesitated, and then his hand fell limply to his side.

“You’re okay?” His voice was raspy with weariness. She nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered, blinking hard.

“You’re… are you… back? To… to stay, I mean? Or were you gonna…”

“I’m staying.” she hardly trusted her voice. “If… if you’re okay with it, that is.”

He reached for her again, taking her hand gently and tugging her inside, letting the door fall shut behind her. His lips moved, as if he was trying to say something, but no sound came out. She sniffed, letting her eyes fall to the ground for a moment… and then she simply couldn’t bear it another moment. She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” she gasped out and burst into tears. She was shaking all over, trembling like a leaf in a storm. He stiffened at first, and then slowly wrapped his arms around her, melting against her bit by bit. She let her body sag limply against his, burrowing into his chest as she moved to clutch his sweater with both hands. The scratchy gray wool was warm against her cheek. She let her eyes fall shut, breathing in the comforting scent of him. He completely enveloped her in his embrace, pulling her closer against him than he ever had before as he bent his head over hers and buried his nose in her hair.

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back, his voice breaking.

❥ in bed: falling asleep with arms and legs intertwined, choking on hair, drowning in their scent, limbs losing circulation, uncomfortably warm, and still pulling closer

Eponine squeezed her eyes tighter shut instead of opening them as she woke up that morning. She felt absolutely miserable… her head pounding painfully, her throat sore, and she was freezing to death. She could feel Enjolras moving beside her, getting out of bed, and she moaned in protest, reaching out blindly to clutch at his arm.

“You okay?” He stilled for a moment and then she could feel him bending over her, brushing hair back from her face. She mumbled something incoherent, leaning her head against his hand. He pressed his palm against her forehead and when he spoke again, concern filled his voice. “You’re burning up, Ep… you getting sick?”

“Mmm… don’t leave…” she whispered. There was a moment of silence, and then she felt him settling back down beside her, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders and tucking her in. 

“You need medicine? Tea? Hot water bottle?” he asked, cupping her face in his hand and tracing his thumb over her cheekbone. She shook her head, opening her eyes just long enough to see his face only inches away from hers, his eyes worried.

“Just need you,” she murmured sleepily.

He reached for her under the blankets, pulling her towards him until she was pressed close against his body, her head tucked under his chin. She clutched handfuls of his t-shirt, snuggling against his chest. His warmth was comforting and she let her eyes fall shut again with a sigh of relief. 

“You’ll need medicine for the fever, soon,” he said again, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her hair. She was burning against him, and that combined with all the blankets was making him miserably hot, but he didn’t say a word about it… didn’t even move… just pulled her closer as she melted against him. She murmured something… he couldn’t catch the words… but his arms tightened around her reflexively. “I won’t leave yet though,” he added in a whisper.

❥ lift up: hugging with wind up, being lifted into the air, legs flailing, surprised laughter, spinning in place, pressed tightly into the other's chest

He had been gone too long. Well, it had only been a week… but it felt like forever. Impatient and restless, she had been haunting the airport like a ghost for the past two hours. The plane was behind schedule and it made her mad. She wanted him… now, already. She checked her phone for what must have been the thousandth time, but there was nothing. Not one word. Of course he couldn’t text from the plane, but she couldn’t help checking, just in case.

She heard him calling her name before she caught sight of him and whirled to face him. He was rushing towards her, pulling his suitcase behind him. He let go of it then, dropping his backpack to the ground beside it, and ran the last couple of steps, scooping her up in a tight embrace. Before she realized what was happening, she felt herself in midair as he lifted her off her feet, spinning in place as he almost crushed her against his chest. She clung to him, arms around his neck, her legs flailing in the air as she laughed dizzily.

“Stop… stop!” she gasped out, half-choked with laughter. “You’re going to drop me! Agh… Enjo, stop!” 

He chuckled and then she felt firm ground beneath her feet again, but still he didn’t let go.

“I missed you,” she added breathlessly, and sighed happily as she closed her eyes, resting her head against him.

“Missed you too,” he grinned. “Next time, you’re going with me.”

❥ side hug: walking side to side, head resting on their shoulder, swaying with every step, still twisting heads to look at each other

She fell in step beside him as they walked out of the bookstore. The tote bag heavy with their recent finds was slung over his shoulder. They really didn’t have the space for more books, thinking practically, but really… was there any such thing as too many books? They never really questioned it. 

“Mmm… it’s been a good day,” Eponine murmured, drifting closer to him automatically and letting her head fall against his shoulder. He stayed perfectly in sync with her, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders.

“Can’t wait to start reading that Marx book,” he grinned, twisting his head to look at her. She laughed.

“You and your stuffy philosophy. I’m going to bury myself in Jane Eyre.” She turned her face towards him, nuzzling against his shoulder. He laughed softly, squeezing her gently.

“You’ve read that book three times, aren’t you bored with it already?”

“Says you, with your silly political theory book as if it’s the best thing that ever happened to you…”

“Oh, it is,” he nodded teasingly. “I can’t imagine anything better.” 

She pulled back, her eyes glinting with mock anger as she jabbed her elbow into his side. He clutched at it dramatically, making a show of crying out in pain.

“Agh, that was counterrevolutionary," he moaned, grimacing at her. “You traitor to the cause.”

“You knucklehead,” she giggled, ducking under his arm again and snuggling against his side. “Take it back. That darn book is not the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Alright, alright, so I’ve been found out,” he smirked, bending to press a kiss on the top of her head. “So it’s not the best thing. Just… just the second best.”

“And the first?”

“You know.”

❥ unexpected: arms around the other, pinning their arms to their chest, and squeezing them tight

Enjolras hadn’t moved from his desk since six o’clock that morning, except to grab a sandwich around noon. Exams were just around the corner and he was studying harder than Eponine had ever seen him study before. She had gone out that morning, doing the grocery shopping alone for the first time in a long while. It was lonely that way. She had hurried home again, but he was frowning over an essay and hardly even glanced up when the door opened. So she had read for a while, but couldn’t seem to focus her mind on the story. After that, she had tried baking cookies. Grantaire’s instruction had paid off… the cookies turned out well, and she didn’t even light anything on fire. She left a plateful on Enjolras’ desk with a glass of milk and although his only reaction was an absently muttered ‘thanks’, she smiled when she noticed how fast the cookies disappeared.

She was just watching him now, sitting perched on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees and her chin propped in her hands while he typed so fast his fingers were a blur. She tilted her head sideways, smiling slowly as an idea crept into her mind. Slipping silently to the floor, she sneaked up behind him, not making a sound. He was leaning forward, hunched over his desk as he deleted and retyped a sentence, muttering to himself under his breath. Without warning, she threw her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and squeezing him as tight as she could. He let out a startled cry, twisting his head back in attempt to look at her. She laughed, dropping her chin onto his shoulder.

“You’re working too hard,” she murmured and he slumped in her arms with a sigh.

“Good grief, Ep, you scared me half to death…” he was laughing. Without letting go, she moved until she was facing him, her head tipped back as she grinned up at him, still holding on tight.

“Take a break,” she urged. “We can run out to a cafe for a little while and you’ll still have plenty of time left to study.”

He smiled thoughtfully and bent his head to drop a quick kiss on her lips. “Just let me finish this paragraph,” he winked.

❥ from behind: seeing how they look together, pressing kisses on the side of their neck, eyes meeting in the mirror

Eponine groaned, sticking her tongue out at her reflection in the mirror. Sometimes she felt pretty, but today was not one of those days. She stared back at herself, cheekbones jutting out sharply, a sprinkle of freckles over her nose, and that hideous scar streaked across her left cheek. She shuddered at the sight of it. 

“Hey, you in there, you ready to go yet?” Enjolras called from the other room. Eponine sighed, tugging at the end of her braid and grimaced again. She didn’t want to go.

“Not really,” she yelled back, her mind spinning as she wondered how she could conveniently back out of the commitment. There was a moment of silence and then he stuck his head into the room.

“Ep?” He frowned. “We’re gonna be late. What’s the hold up?”

She shrugged and sighed. “I’m ugly today.” Without turning around, she could see him in the mirror, still standing in the doorway. He stood there a moment longer and then moved forward, resting his hands on her shoulders and dropping his chin onto the top of her head.

“Why would you say such a stupid thing?” he grinned suddenly. “Look, look at that girl in the mirror…” he wrapped his arms around her from behind, squeezing her tight. “Isn’t she beautiful? The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in all my life.”

She sighed again, managing a tiny smile. He held her close for a long moment, lowering his head to brush his lips against her scar. She went still in his arms, melting into his embrace. When he lifted his head, his eyes met hers in the mirror, turquoise blue staring into deep, velvety brown. She couldn’t help but smile wider.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered, smiling back. “They’re all gonna be jealous of me.”

❥ standing up: burying face in the other's shoulder or chest, arms around their ribcage, leaning against them

“Please… no… you can’t…” Eponine gasped out, struggling against the policeman who held her arm firmly. She could just barely glimpse Enjolras beyond the police line, so close and yet so far. They had him down on the ground but she couldn’t see what they were doing to him. “Let me go…” she sobbed, yanking harder on her arm. 

“You need to stay still, mademoiselle,” the officer warned her, his voice muffled behind his riot mask. “If you interfere with the police, we’ll have to arrest you.” 

Eponine went statue-still, her heart beating wildly. She bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood. Enjolras was being pulled to his feet now and a few of the officers had moved so she could see him clearly now. Blood was trickling from a gash in his forehead and his face was already bruising. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and he stumbled as an officer shoved him forward. 

“Please…” Eponine said again, forcing her voice to stay calm, although it was still trembling. She was terrified. She had seen him detained by police before, taken for questioning, but never handcuffed. “Let me go to him. I’m begging you.” 

A moment’s silence, and then the officer nodded. Keeping a firm grip on her arm, he led her in the direction the others were taking Enjolras, to where a police car was waiting, the back door open. “Only one minute,” he snapped as he let go of her, and she ran to Enjolras, who was standing beside the car, held between two officers. 

“They can’t take you…” she cried out incoherently, throwing her arms around him so hard he flinched. 

“Ep…” he groaned as she buried her face in his chest, holding on tightly. “Calm down…” She was sobbing against him. He slumped wearily in her arms, leaning slightly against her as his head reeled dizzily. They had hit him pretty hard and the pain was bad. But he was more concerned about her at the moment. “Just breathe, Ep,” he whispered, bending his head so she could catch his words, meant for her ears only. “Go with Ferre and Courf. They can’t keep me long. I’ll see you soon.”

“Promise?” she whispered back, not lifting her head. He nodded, grimacing as pain shot through his skull.

“Promise.”

❥ arms around their neck: burying face in the crook of their neck, pulling them closer

❥ piggyback: jumping on their back, wrapping arms around their shoulder, cheek kisses, tugging hair, throwing on bed to get them off

❥ tickles: catching them from behind and tickling them, squealing, twisting and turning, getting the tables turned on them

Enj in Prison

"If you don’t slow down, you’re going to wear a path right across the tile,” Combeferre chuckled ruefully as he watched Eponine pacing back and forth across the dingy waiting room of the police station.

“If I don’t move I’ll go crazy,” Eponine muttered, wrapping her arms tight around her body as she turned to cross the room again, her eyes on the floor. From time to time she glanced at the door that led to the temporary jail cells. “We’ve been here for over half an hour…” she paused for a moment beside Combeferre’s chair, her worried gaze flicking to his face and back to the door. 

“These things take time,” he shrugged helplessly. Eponine groaned and dropped into a chair, burying her face in her hands. If this went on one moment longer she was sure she really would lose her mind. But at that moment, the door opened and a young officer holding a clipboard glanced around the lobby, his expression bored.

“Mademoiselle Thenardier and Monsieur Combeferre?”

Eponine jumped to her feet, nodding anxiously. The officer gestured towards them lazily. 

“Follow me.”

They had to empty their pockets before going through the metal detector in the next room. Eponine shuddered as they followed the warden down a long, narrow corridor, everything the same depressing shade of grey. They were ushered into a small room furnished only with a dilapidated table and a few chairs. And here they had to wait for another quarter of an hour before they finally heard footsteps in the hall. 

Eponine was out of her chair even before she saw him, her hands flying restlessly to her heart and then clenched into fists at her sides. The door opened and Enjolras was guided in, flanked by two wardens who kept a firm grip on his elbows as they shoved him in, a bit roughly. He stumbled, barely managing to regain his balance as the wardens jerked him back up, yanking on the chain between the cuffs that bound his hands. He shook off their grip, jutting his chin out stubbornly and rolling his shoulders back as he glanced around the room, his eyes settling on Eponine. She was standing silently in the corner, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Enjo…” she murmured his name, staring fixedly at him, and flew forward before she realized what she was doing. She collided with him so hard that he grunted from the impact, but she hardly noticed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

“Back off, M’amselle,” one of the wardens spoke in warning, stepping towards her as if meaning to pull her away, but the other, an older man, shook his head. 

“Hey…” Enjolras whispered, his voice raspy. He bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m okay.” 

“It’s been too long…” Eponine choked out, turning her face into the crook of his neck, trying to hide her tears. “They wouldn’t let me come in earlier. I’ve been here every day since…”

“I know.” He buried his face in her hair, letting his eyes fall shut. His arms flexed against the handcuffs as if he could somehow free himself of them. She felt the movement and reached behind his back, gripping his hands tightly. His fingers were cold. She pulled back slightly, glaring through her tears at the warden.

“Please… take them off him…” she begged, her voice trembling slightly. “Just for a little while.”

“Can’t,” the younger man shrugged. “Procedure.”

“Damn your procedures,” she hissed, growing angry. “He’s not going anywhere. The door is locked, and you two idiots are here…”

“Eponine…” Combeferre spoke for the first time, his voice pleading. But the older officer was nodding.

“Get the handcuffs off the kid,” he sighed. “It’s not necessary.”

Rolling his eyes, the younger guard pulled a set of keys from his belt and took his time rattling around with them.

Ep Falls Down the Stairs lol

“Honestly, I can’t believe you actually agreed to go see this movie,” Eponine giggled. “I told Ferre I could get you to go but I didn’t actually have much faith.” 

“Well, hold your horses,” Enjolras muttered as he pulled the door to the apartment shut behind him and slipped the keys in his pocket. “We aren’t there yet. I might still change my mind.”

“No, you won’t,” Eponine flashed him a brilliant smile and grabbed his arm. “You’re going because you can’t resist me, now admit it.” 

He only rolled his eyes in answer and moved slowly down the stairs, as if he was determined to waste as much time as possible. She gave up tugging on his arm after a while and hurried on ahead of him. “Race you to the sidewalk, slowpoke,” she called over her shoulder, still laughing.

“Eponine!” He yelled back. “Slow down, you’ll fall…” 

But she was already too far down, and still going. She had turned round the corner and he couldn’t see her anymore, just hear the clatter of her footsteps down below him. He moved a little faster, but still carefully. He knew from experience how treacherous these stairs could be. They had almost killed Courfeyrac in the middle of the night once. Enjolras still used that incident as proof that one shouldn’t be out past midnight… unless it was for the cause, of course.

Only a few seconds had passed when the inevitable happened. He started running when he first heard her shriek, and the horrible racket of her body thudding against each step. By the time he rounded the corner, he caught sight of her lying crumpled on the landing. It was enough to make his heart stop beating, and he ran so fast down the last few steps that it was a wonder he didn’t fall himself.

“Oh my word, Ep…” he knelt on the landing, his hands hovering over her, afraid to touch her. “Are you… okay?”

Eponine groaned. She didn’t dare move yet, just lay still as a statue where she had fallen in a heap. There was a dreadful burning pain in her back and shooting down her leg. It hurt so bad that she couldn’t even think.

“Where are you hurt?” Enjolras’ voice trembled as he reached out to gently push the hair back from her face.

“Everywhere… I think…” Eponine gasped out. “I… I think… I broke myself…”

Ep Runs Away

Eponine stumbled down the stairs, clutching wildly at the railing as she wrapped her other arm around her torso, trying to control her gasping sobs. She should have expected it, should have been waiting for it… but she let her guard down, and it hurt her more than she had expected it to. She didn’t even have the heart to go through with any sort of divisive plan, she just wanted to get out and away from him, as far and as fast as she could. She could hear him calling after her, his voice echoing down the stairs… telling her to wait… was he coming after her? She ran faster, reaching the street in record time. She didn’t stop running until she was a block away from the apartment and hidden around the corner of a building so even if he did come down the street, he wouldn’t see her.

She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and dialed a number with shaking fingers. She held it to her ear, taking deep, slow breaths as she listened to it ring… and then a cheerful voice on the other end saying, “Salut, Ep, what’s up?”

“Louise…” Eponine gasped out, falling against the side of the building. She was trembling. “I… I need… can I… can I come over? I… I need to crash somewhere for a couple days…”

“Of course, but…” Louise sounded instantly alarmed. “What’s happened? Everything alright between you and Enj?”

“No…” Eponine whispered. “Um… please… you can’t tell him where I am… even if he asks you… please…”

By the time Eponine made it to Louise’s flat, half an hour later, her phone had rung five times. Enjolras, every time. She hadn’t answered. Now the texts were coming…

I’m sorry…

Eponine, please… I’m sorry…

Please don’t run away…

She glanced at the messages that came through and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. She wasn’t going to answer those either. Louise was standing in the doorway when Eponine came up the stairs, holding the door open, her eyes flooded with concern. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t…” Eponine whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she ducked inside and Louise closed the door. “He was so angry, and I just…” she gripped her wrist where his fingers had been not long ago, clamped around her in a vise grip…

“It’s okay,” Louise said quickly, wrapping the other girl in a hug. “Stay as long as you need to.” She guided Eponine into the living room, pushing her gently onto the couch and shoving a box of kleenex at her. “What happened?”

“I hardly know how it started… the… the protest… and… and he was mad that I… well, I was being pretty stupid, but I was worried… and…” she couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts. “If he’s so worried about me getting hurt, then why does he hurt me himself?” she was suddenly angry again. “Does he not realize how much it hurts when he grabs me like that?” her own fingers tightened around her wrist and she shuddered.

“Oh no, no… he would never hurt you on purpose… you know he doesn’t mean to do it…” Louise said quickly. “He’s just scared, that’s all… and he doesn’t know how to cope with it. Yes, it’s wrong for him to lash out like that, but… just remember, he’d rather die than hurt you.” 

Eponine sighed and dropped her head into her arms, her shoulders trembling. Louise’s phone was ringing now.

“Ep, it’s him…” she said in a low voice and Eponine’s head shot up again, her eyes wide with alarm.

“You can’t tell him…”

“No… I won’t. I promise.” Louise bit her lip and stared at her phone a moment longer. “But this is really gonna hurt him.”

“Good,” Eponine spoke between clenched teeth. Louise answered the phone, and before she could even say anything, Eponine heard Enjolras’ voice on the other side, spilling out a torrent of frantic words that she could just barely hear…

“She’s gone, Lou, she’s gone… I don’t know what to do…”

Louise got up from the couch, pacing a few steps back and forth across the living room. 

“Enjo, Enjo… calm down… yes, yes, I hear you… you won’t fix anything by freaking out… just breathe, breathe, okay?” she shot a look at Eponine that was hard to decipher. Eponine curled herself into a ball on the couch, wiping away the tears that refused to stop. 

“No, no don’t… you can’t… no, just… listen, maybe she just needs some time to herself? She’ll be okay, I’m sure of it. She’s tough, she’s an adult, she’ll be just fine. Just… drink some water, sit down, breathe. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” Louise cast a desperate glance at Eponine, the question in her eyes obvious. Her lips formed the words, he’s freaking out. Eponine shook her head. 

“What happened with you two?” Louise asked him, listening for a minute. “Oh, Enjy… oh no…” she deflated a little, her brow creasing in a worried frown. “You’ve got to learn to control your temper…” Another long pause as she listened. “Okay. Well, just… don’t do anything else for now. Just sit and breathe. Yes, I’m sure she’s safe. She knows better than to walk into trouble again. Don’t you dare go looking for her dad… promise me you won’t.”

She came back to sit beside Eponine on the couch after she had hung up. She sighed long and slow, but she didn’t say anything for a few minutes. When she finally spoke, her voice was tense. 

“You need to text him. At least tell him you’re safe.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Eponine faltered and Louise sighed again.

“I’m serious, Eponine. Either you tell him you’re safe, or I’ll call him right now and tell him where you are. He’s going to do something crazy if you don’t. He is already talking about looking for your dad, he’s afraid you’re going to get hurt again.”

Eponine felt something like the pain of a knife twisting in her chest. He… he was scared. For her. It was enough to make her want to show up on his doorstep in tears, begging to be forgiven… but no. She steeled her resolve. She had meant to do this anyway, to test him… she wasn’t going to back out now.

“Alright,” she said after a long pause. She pulled her phone out of her pocket again, her thumbs hovering over the screen for a moment before she managed to type a few words. I’m safe. Don’t worry.

The answer came back immediately, as if he had been sitting there waiting for it. Text after text came through. This wasn’t like him.

Thank goodness, Eponine…

Where are you?

Please come back.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…

Please…

Talk to me…

Almost savagely, Eponine hit the mute button on her phone and shoved it away again. She couldn’t bear it. If she read one more text like that, she’d lose her nerve. She couldn’t just go running back to him that quickly.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Louise said softly. “He’s not gonna get a moment of rest until this is over.”

“I don’t know what else to do…” Eponine shrugged. “You think I’m gonna rest? We’ve both gotta go through this…”

She was right. She couldn’t fall asleep that night. And that after staring dismally at her plate at supper, unable to take a bite, until Louise finally cleared the full plate and told her to go get some sleep. She was curled up on the couch now, clutching a blanket and crying into it. The last texts had come through only minutes before…

Did you find a place to stay?

Are you hungry? Cold? Please… just tell me you’re okay…

You forgot Rossie…

I miss you…

She had relented just enough to send one text back. I’m in a safe place. I’m okay. Don’t worry. That had only triggered more texts. She had muted the phone again and lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Silent tears dripped onto her pillow. Why was she doing this? She hated herself for it. But she couldn’t stop now. She had gone too far already.

It was almost midnight when Eponine heard Louise’s phone ringing from her bedroom. She could hear Louise fumbling for it, heard something crash to the ground, and then a light snapped on and Louise was answering sleepily. Eponine couldn’t distinguish words, but she could hear the tone of Louise’s voice… low, concerned, trying to comfort. 

Louise was out in the hall within a few minutes, pacing slowly back and forth. Eponine listened for a long time. She couldn’t hear anything on the other end, but of course it was Enjolras. And he must be distraught, because all Louise was trying to do at this point was to calm him down. She had wandered into the living room now, casting meaningful glances at Eponine who was sitting up on the couch, clutching the blanket round her shoulders and shivering. Louise held the other girl’s gaze for a moment and then hit the speaker on her phone. 

Enjolras was crying. It didn’t even register at first… the thought of Enjolras crying was so foreign to Eponine that she was merely confused for a while. 

“It’s so cold out,” he was saying between gasping sobs. “And she could be anywhere… she… she said she’s somewhere safe, but… what if… what if she’s under a bridge somewhere? Or… or with the Patron-Minette… I’d never forgive myself if… if anything happened…”

Louise was shaking her head, glaring at Eponine. You need to stop this, now, she mouthed. And taking the phone off speaker, she went back to her room.

oOo

“He cried himself to sleep over the phone,” was the first thing Louise said the next morning. “At like three in the morning.” Her eyes were red. “The other guys are worried too… Look at what Courf sent me…” she slid her phone across the table. Eponine had been sitting there at the table since five o’clock that morning, feeling more miserable than she ever had in her life. She didn’t answer Louise, just glanced up listlessly and took the phone. Courf had sent a picture of Enjolras slumped on the couch, his face buried against Rossie. He seemed to be asleep, and what she could see of his face was stained with tears. Eponine pushed the phone back, folded her arms on the table, dropped her head onto them, and burst into tears. She didn’t say anything when Louise offered breakfast, just cried harder.

“You two idiots,” Louise groaned as she pulled cereal from the cupboard, poured herself a bowl, and sat down. She stared at the cereal for a long time, watching it get soggy. “Damn it, I can’t eat either,” she pushed it away and groaned again. Her phone was ringing and she picked it up with a longsuffering sigh.

“Hey, how’s it going, Enj?” she answered softly, her voice worried. “Get any sleep? Listen… she won’t… she won’t stay away forever, I promise you that. You know her better than that. She… she loves you. You know that.” She was looking pleadingly at Eponine again, silently begging her, but Eponine shook her head again, hardly knowing why.

“No… no, Enjo, you can’t go to the police… she’s an adult, she left of her own accord, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet… No, seriously, don’t. Stop. If you even think about looking for her there, I’ll get the others on alert, they will lock you in your room… No. She’s… she’s not with her dad. I promise you that. No, no… she hasn’t called me recently… I just… I just know, that’s all. Okay? She knows better than that. And she told you she was in a safe place…”

Louise shook her head as she finally hung up. “He’s talking about going to the police,” she looked pointedly at Eponine. “To file a missing persons report. Never, ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, has he ever even thought about going to the police before. He’s about to start searching for you down that road where he found you with your dad the last time this happened… the others hopefully will be able to keep him from doing that. But he… he wants you to send a picture of yourself, just so he can be sure you actually have your phone and it’s not someone else texting him with your phone. You’d better do it, Ep, or I will.” 

“He told you that?” Eponine murmured, her voice shaky. “He’ll guess that I’m with you…” she glanced at her phone. Fifteen missed calls and twenty-three texts. One of the most recent ones was asking for a picture. With a sigh, she took a quick selfie, making sure there was nothing in the background that could prove where she was, and sent it. It was a terrible looking picture, her eyes red and swollen, her hair a tangled mess, but she didn’t care.

Oh my word, Eponine

Are you okay? 

Please… 

What do I have to do to prove how sorry I am?

She turned the phone over so she couldn’t see the screen. The calls and texts from Enjolras slowed down throughout the day, though, as if he was starting to wear out. But others were trying to get in touch… Courf, Ferre, Jehan, Joly… even R, who sounded half drunk and very angry. While the others sounded merely concerned, he took the angle of “How dare you treat Enjolras like this…” which hurt more than the rest. She answered a few of the texts, mostly Courf, assuring him that she was alright. And she answered one more from Enjolras when, somehow unconvinced by the selfie, he begged her to tell him something only she would know.

“My favorite book is Monte Cristo…” she typed half-heartedly. And in case that wasn’t enough, she added, “Once I dared you to kiss me. And we had a pillow fight three nights ago. Rossie’s full name is Jean-Jacques Rosseau.”

By evening, he wasn’t texting her anymore. It scared her, the silence of her phone. Louise had taken to pacing again, Eponine mostly just sat curled on the couch, staring vacantly into space. He hadn’t called Louise either, not in hours.

By ten o’clock, Louise decided there wasn’t much point in staying up longer, even if no one was going to sleep anyway, and she shut herself up in her room. Eponine didn’t move.

It was almost midnight when the doorbell rang. It startled Eponine out of a half-sleep. Louise poked her head out of her bedroom, glancing dazedly from the door to Eponine and back again. She crossed the living room and looked out the peephole in the door as the bell rang again.

“It’s him,” she sighed, looking back at Eponine. “I’m going to let him in.”

Eponine nodded. “Let him in.” She stood, moving to stand halfway behind Louise, to the side. Wrapping her arms tight around her body, she waited while Louise fumbled with the lock and slowly opened the door. He stumbled in before Louise could say anything and she reached out to grab his arm, steadying him.

“Aw, Enjy…” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head, mumbling a barely coherent answer. “Can’t… can’t take it, Lou… can’t sleep, can’t eat…” His eyes were bloodshot, his hair falling tangled over his face. Louise pushed his hair back, smiling sadly. 

“Enjy…” she turned and nodded toward Eponine. She didn’t need to say anything else. He saw her then, and a hundred things passed through his eyes. Eponine tensed, resisting the urge to step backwards. She held her ground, waiting. She was determined to take whatever came… anger, hatred… even if… even if he hit her.

He didn’t move at first… and then he stumbled towards her… hesitantly. He stopped right in front of her, looking down at her. She saw relief first… sorrow… guilt… and… and something else that she couldn’t name. But not anger. 

And suddenly she was in his arms, held close against him. He buried his face in her hair, holding her as tight as he could, but still gentle. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her. “So sorry.”

“No…” Eponine sobbed, moving to wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry.”

He breathed a shuddering sigh of relief and the tension went out of his body. She could feel his tears dripping in her hair and her heart broke all over again. How had she done this to him? She hadn’t thought it would be like this.

“Forgive me,” she gasped out, trembling in his arms. He stood there a moment longer… and then he bent, slipping one arm behind her knees, the other around her back, and scooped her up, holding her close against him. He carried her to the couch and sank onto it, cradling her in his arms, her head against his chest.

“Enjo, I’m so sorry,” she tried again, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He didn’t answer her frantic torrent of words as she tried to explain. He looked tired… so desperately tired… tired and broken. She sat up halfway, still trying to explain, but he just shook his head and pulled her back towards him again. She let herself go limp in his arms, hiding her face against him. They could talk later. For now… they just… needed each other.

She lay still after that, listening to the beating of his heart beneath her cheek. His breathing slowed, his body relaxed, his head falling limply against hers. He was asleep already, and still holding tightly onto her as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

She stirred just a little then, looking up to see Louise smiling at them. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows, and Eponine knew what she meant. He loves you… isn’t this enough proof? But Louise only whispered “thank you,” and slipped from the room.

As if he sensed Eponine moving, Enjolras’ arms tightened around her. “Stay…” he murmured, half-awake again, and she settled back against him. He sighed, pressing a sleepy kiss on the top of her head, and fell silent. She didn’t care what happened. Nothing was going to make her leave him, ever again. 

Bookshop

“Two years,” Eponine murmured absently that morning as she stood in front of the mirror, running a brush through her tangled hair. She stared at her reflection, the way her cheekbones jutted out, the scar running across her cheek, the freckles sprinkled over the bridge of her nose, and she stuck her tongue out at herself. No one loved the girl in the mirror… not even herself. But she tried. That was why she had walked away. She wasn’t going to let herself suffer anymore, loving and not being loved.

Except leaving… it hadn’t ended her suffering. It had only made it worse. Two years, two long, lonely, miserable years. She sighed, tossing her hairbrush onto the dresser and falling backwards onto the bed.

The room was tiny. It was all she could afford… just one little room high at the top of an ancient old apartment building somewhere in Paris. Somewhere far away from him, way on the other side of the city. It was a big city. Lots of people. She had only seen him a few times since, and just in passing. Standing on a street corner giving a speech, marching in a protest… once on the metro. That had been awkward. He had been polite… and she had been stiff and almost rude.

The clock was ticking. She could hear it. With a sigh, she dragged herself up again, running her eyes around the little room. There was a desk in the corner, heaped with papers… she had taken to scribbling in the past two years. Her shelf was crowded with books… most of them books he had given her. Monte Cristo had a place of honor on the top… she still cherished that silly, tattered little paperback. In the other corner was a small table with a toaster, hot plate, and coffee maker. Her kitchen. She sighed. It was pathetic. But at least it was a roof over her head… and she was doing well for herself, considering where she had come from.

But what cared she for food and shelter when she was dying of loneliness?

She laughed out loud. Why be so dramatic? It was over and done with. She shook her hair back from her face, not caring that it was loose and untamed, and snatched her jacket from the back of a chair before clattering down the stairs. She had to hurry or she would be late.

She made it to the metro on time and sat in her customary seat in the far back left hand corner. She had a half hour’s ride to the bookshop where she worked. Pulling out her phone, she slid her finger idly across the screen. Not one single message. No one ever texted, no one ever called, unless it was her boss. But she texted… she texted someone every day.

It had become a silly little habit. But habits were hard to break. Every day for the past two years, she would pull up his name on her phone, type a few words into the messages, and delete it. And then she would blow a kiss in the general direction of his side of Paris… just because. The texts varied  in what they said… 

“Five hundred and twenty three days since I left”

“I dreamed about you last night”

“Today, the memory of you is making me cry.”

“I miss you.”

“I just want to see you… just for one moment. Just to look into your eyes, and see your smile and know you’re okay… that you’re happy…”

Today, her thumbs lingered in midair as she stared at the screen for a moment… and then she typed a few words into the text box.

“I wonder if you ever think of me.”

She glanced at the words for a moment, reading them over, and then she went to hit the delete button. Except somehow, her thumb brushed the send button… and before she even realized she had done it, the message was sent.

She stared at her phone in horror, feeling for a moment as if she had been turned to ice cold stone. And then her stomach turned over, frighteningly alive. Her hands were shaking. It was too late, the message was already sent, there was nothing she could do about it. She could text again, say it was just an accident… but maybe that would only make it worse. She hadn’t spoken a word to him in two years, except that one time she had met him on the train, and that had been only a simple greeting.

Her message alert dinged within a few minutes and she jumped like she had been shot. 

“I do. Every day.”

She must have read his message a hundred times before the meaning of those words finally sank into her brain. She gasped, feeling a shudder go through her entire body. Should she answer? Should she let it go? Could she even stop herself? She was already texting a reply.

“Do you miss me?”

He must have been sitting there just waiting for her to answer. His text came back almost immediately, just one simple word.

“Yes.”

The metro had stopped at her station. She didn’t notice at first. The train moved on… and she was still on it, staring at her phone. She sighed at herself. This was ridiculous. There was nothing to say. She shoved her phone back in her pocket, realized she had missed her stop, and muttered angrily under her breath. She’d have to get off at the next stop and walk back. But her phone dinged again. She scrambled for it, nearly dropping it. Her heart was racing.

“Why did you text me? It’s been two years.”

She felt tears stinging her eyelids. He was annoyed, wasn’t he? He thought she was gone for good, and here she, like an idiot, had sent him such a stupid message out of a clear blue sky…

“It was an accident. Sorry.”

The train had pulled to a stop at the next station and she practically jumped off of it, clutching her bag tightly as she wove through the crowd on the sidewalk, hurrying herself as fast as she could go. She was more than half an hour late. The owner of the shop was behind the counter when she came in and glanced up at her disapprovingly.

“You’d better have a good reason, Thenardier. Fifteen minutes, I’ll excuse. But this is very late. I have several crates of books in the back that need to be sorted, get to it.”

“Yes sir,” Eponine sighed and dragged her feet to the back of the store. She dumped her bag unceremoniously on the floor and sank down cross-legged beside the aforementioned crates. Her phone had been silent since her last text. She had guessed right… of course he didn’t care. Why would he care? Surely he had found someone by now, someone he truly loved. Or maybe he was more married than ever to his stupid revolution. She had tired of the cause. It didn’t matter much to her on her own.

The morning passed by slowly. She sorted the books, taking her time, not wanting to emerge from the back room. She’d rather not see or speak to anyone today. But after a while of stalling, she had no choice but to take the books out to place them on the shelves. She started with classics, traipsing back and forth with armloads of books, alphabetizing them neatly in their places. She helped a highschool student find a copy of The Three Musketeers for school, recommended a few romance novels to a young woman, and joined an elderly man in hunting for a classic mystery before she managed to move on to philosophy. 

They had quite a nice collection of revolutionary philosophers, she noted as she stacked books up, preparing to take them out. It made her think of him again… as a thousand little things did, every single day. She sighed as she hefted a large stack and staggered under their weight. Too many books for one trip… she couldn’t see around the stack. Which is why she collided smack into a customer. Books flew everywhere, lying in all haphazard angles, covers falling open, pages splayed out. A pamphlet that had been tucked into a used Voltaire fell out, landing near a bookmark that had been thrown from a Marx book. Eponine groaned, rubbing her nose ruefully where it had gotten bumped pretty hard.

“I’m sorry,” the customer was saying. “Wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

She froze. She knew that voice… why, she heard it echoed in her head a hundred times a day. And now she was afraid to look up. He touched her arm tentatively, his fingers barely grazing the sleeve of her sweater. She jolted, jerking away from him, and glanced up almost fearfully to meet familiar blue eyes.

“Eponine… are you okay?”

It took her only a moment to find her voice and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if nothing at all was the matter… as if her head wasn’t reeling wildly and everything inside her screaming. 

“Yeah… fine…” she knelt on the floor, reaching to pick up the scattered books. He crouched down beside her, scooping up a few and stacking them neatly. 

“Poor Rosseau,” he murmured, rescuing a book that had fallen face down and attempting to straighten a few crumpled pages. “Rather counter-revolutionary of me to knock him to the floor…” he closed the book carefully and added it to the pile. 

“What are you doing here?” Eponine spoke abruptly, and he looked at her in innocent surprise.

“What? Shopping for books, of course, what else would I be doing?”

“You live on the other side of the city,” she pointed out.

“Right. Very observant of you,” he grinned crookedly and reached for a few more books. “But you know me. I’ve already ransacked the bookstores closer to home. I need new material.” 

“You’ve read all these books a thousand times,” she said bluntly, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “Hand me that stack, please?”

He accordingly held the pile up to her and she took it, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered when his hand touched hers. He stood up then too, forcing her to angle her head up to look at him. He was standing too close, almost bending over her… she moved quickly away to hide the flush spreading over her cheeks. She turned her back to him, focusing on carefully cataloguing her books, hoping to signal to him that this interaction was over. All was silent behind her. Maybe he had gone.

No… of course he hadn’t… she could feel him standing there behind her… just standing… not moving, not speaking. She stopped, motionless in her place with one hand still gripping the spine of the book she had just placed on the shelf. She spoke without turning back to look at him.

“Liar. You didn’t come here for the books.”

“Wow…” he chuckled. “Two minutes after I meet an old friend and already she’s accusing me of lying.”

“Don’t play games with me,” she hissed, whirling to face him. “You came because I texted you this morning. How did you even know I worked here?”

“Would you believe this is a coincidence?” he shrugged. “Came here by accident?”

“Accident, ha!” she laughed scornfully. She was angry at him. Why, she didn’t know… but it felt good to be angry somehow. “You got it out of Louise, didn’t you. She told you I would be here.”

“Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t. Regardless, I am here for books,” he shrugged again and took the Rosseau from her hand, the one with the crumpled pages. “This book, actually.”

“You already have that book,” she raised an eyebrow. “I should know. I gave it to you.”

“So you did,” he grinned, turning it over in his hands and pretending to study the cover. “Well, you never can have too much of a good thing.” 

“You’re impossible,” Eponine muttered, rolling her eyes. And with that, she stalked off, disappearing into the back room again. There were several more philosophy books yet to be organized, but she ignored them, heading instead to her stacks of romance novels. That was one section of the store he would never be seen in… in fact, he probably wouldn’t be caught dead around books like that. She smirked a little as she gathered up an armload.

He was still standing in the philosophy section when she emerged from the back, chin cupped in his hand as he thoughtfully scanned the shelf. He glanced up at her, almost absently, and turned back to the books again. She stuck her nose in the air and made a beeline for the romance section. She was setting books in their proper places, trying to ignore how her hands were shaking, when suddenly she realized he was standing right in front of her. Startled, she almost screeched, lifting her hand to clap it over her mouth. The few books she had been holding went flying again. He caught most of them.

“Careful, careful,” he chided, shaking his head. “Y’know, I’m surprised they hired you, if all you do is launch books around the shop all day.”

She didn’t even deign to answer that. Snatching the books from his hands, she turned her back again.

“You hate romance,” she said after a moment of silence. She didn’t have to look to know he was still there. “If you tell me you’re shopping for romance novels, I will throw them at your head.”

“Rats, and here I am without a helmet,” he sighed. “Honestly, I am shopping for romance novels, do you recommend any?”

“Actually, yes,” she turned on him with a vengeance. “I have plenty. Here, and here, and here…” she swiftly pulled them from the shelf and shoved them at him. “They all have a common theme. Unrequited love. Sad endings. People who end up lonely. Take them, and leave.”

“Eponine, wait…” he reached out as she tried to walk away, grabbing her arm and pulling her back towards him. She yanked her arm from his grasp and drew herself up with all the dignity she could muster. “Can’t we talk?” his tone had changed to pleading and there was something in his eyes that she had never seen before. She looked away.

“What on earth would we have to talk about?” she murmured, clasping her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t be able to see them trembling.

“Well…” he faltered, taken aback. “I… anything. We… we used to talk all the time. About all sorts of things. I’ve missed that. We… we were good together, Eponine.”

“You missed that, huh?” she smirked sarcastically, nodding. “You know what’s wrong with you, Enjolras Guillaume? You’ve got a heart made of marble,” she jabbed a finger at his chest and he flinched. “Cold, hard marble. You’re incapable of feeling anything. You want me around so we can talk about books and philosophy and revolutionary theory. Because you’re bored. I learned my lesson long ago. I’m not going to be used like that. I’m a real person, Monsieur, and I have a real heart, something you can’t comprehend, I know, but try your hardest to understand, alright?”

“Why are you so mad at me?” He shook his head, his eyes growing dark. He looked sad. 

“Why don’t you figure it out, if you’re so smart?” she pressed her lips tight together and blinked hard. She would not cry.

“You’re the one who left. Don’t you remember? Remember how I begged you to stay?” He was pleading again, leaning forward earnestly. 

“And don’t you remember? The night we… we made our agreement,” she laughed bitterly. “I told you I wouldn’t stay if it didn’t work.”

“Who says it didn’t work? I… I thought you were happy… with me…” 

“You never loved me back,” she answered, her voice lowering almost to a whisper. “That means it didn’t work. Now if you’ll excuse me… I have things to do.” 

She tried again to leave, and again, he pulled her back. He held on tight to her arm as she struggled feebly for a moment, and then fell still. 

“Please, let’s talk. Meet me when you’re done with your shift. The cafe across the street…” he nodded towards the window. “Just… just give me a chance…” He let go of her then. She drew back, wrapping her arms around herself in her old reflexive protective gesture. Her mind was swirling, doing battle with her heart. The duality was driving her crazy. Her heart was telling her to throw herself into his arms and burst into tears, and her head was telling her to walk away and never look back. Since she had no idea how to reconcile this, she simply stood still. He took her silence for assent.

“I’ll see you then…?” he said, almost hopefully, nodding at her. He was still holding the Rousseau book and the three romances she had forced on him. “I’ll go check out now.”

She stared at him as he went to the front counter. He actually was buying those books. Perhaps then she was having a dream, such a thing as that could certainly never happen in real life. She drifted closer to the front of the store, hiding around the corner of a cookbook shelf as she watched him pay. He took the bag of books the shop owner handed him, pocketed his wallet, and opened the door. He paused in the doorway, and turning back, blew a kiss in the general direction of the shop. A quiet, subtle gesture, not intended to really be noticed by anyone, so she knew he couldn’t be joking. He certainly couldn’t see her where she was standing. But she pulled back anyway, pressing her hand over her heart, her breath coming in short gasps.

She could see him through the front window, between the display of children’s picture books. He was crossing the street and going into the cafe. The nerve of him… didn’t he think at all that she had several hours of work left? Four, to be exact. No way was he going to sit there for four hours. When she didn’t show up, surely he’d leave within one hour. So… there was nothing to do but get back to work, which she did. Or rather… tried to. She wasn’t terribly successful. More than once, books were shoved onto the shelves with their spines backwards or upside down, sometimes entirely in the wrong section.

When her shift was over… she didn’t leave.

She had gone to the window and glanced out to see him sitting by the cafe window, reading. Or at least he appeared to be reading. Every other moment it seemed he glanced toward the bookshop. She vanished from the window, not wanting him to see her. She retraced her steps back through the shop and found herself back in the blasted romance section. She leaned against the shelf with a sigh and slowly slid down until she hit the ground. She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and pressed her forehead against her knees. And she didn’t move, for a very, very long time. In fact, she might never have moved, at least not until the shop closed, if she hadn’t heard footsteps in front of her, and then felt a gentle touch on her arm. She didn’t lift her head at first.

“Eponine…” he began and then sighed. “I know your shift is over. You don’t have to hide because of me. If you want me to go… then I’ll go.”

She was silent. Maybe if she sat there long enough, everything would sort itself out. 

“It was good to see you again,” he murmured. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Wait… no… he was leaving… he wasn’t supposed to do that. She jumped to her feet and rushed after him. She caught up with him in the doorway, grabbing his hand without thinking about it.

“I’ll go with you,” she said breathlessly, all in a rush. His eyes widened, and she quickly reworded her statement. “I mean… we can talk. Go somewhere, and… and talk. Yeah.”  

He looked down at her and she cowered under his gaze. Now she was really in for it. She had been dreadfully rude, and told him to go away, and now he probably really was done with her. She flinched, waiting for him to stalk off. But he moved his hand until hers slid into it more securely, curling his fingers around hers the way he used to. Her hand fit inside his so perfectly. 

“You look like you could use some hot chocolate,” he said softly, grinning, and she nodded, letting him gently tug her out onto the sidewalk. He was holding onto her loosely, as if allowing her to step away at any point. So she tightened her grip on his hand and he responded, squeezing hers back. 

“You… you’re okay with this?” she murmured hesitantly, casting a shy glance up at him. “After all this time, two whole years of silence, and you just… you’re just gonna hold my hand and walk down the street with me?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Something was pressing in the back of her mind… something that was telling her, this is it, Eponine, this is what love is… don’t you know it when you see it? She shoved the thought away.

“Doesn’t it feel a little funny?” she laughed nervously. “I mean… all that time. I… we haven’t talked in two years, Enjo…” she paused. The old nickname had just slipped out accidentally. He noticed it, and he smiled, a little sadly.

“All that lost time,” he sighed, and his head drooped a little.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” she faltered, not entirely sure what it was that she was apologizing for.

“No, it’s… I… I guess my friendship wasn’t worth enough to you,” he said dejectedly, and immediately regretted saying it. She pulled her hand away from his grasp and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. There were a hundred angry things that she instantly wanted to say, but she bit down on her tongue, hard. She had always known that she couldn’t force love. So why be angry with him for not falling in love with her? That would be selfish and cruel.

“It’s worth everything,” she answered lamely, suddenly hating herself.

“You threw it away.” He kicked at a pop can someone had left lying on the sidewalk. It rattled away, falling into the curb.

“I couldn’t do it, Enjo,” her voice cracked. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be with you every day, loving you and… and knowing you didn’t love me back. It… it was lonely that way.” 

He stopped walking. She moved a couple steps ahead before she realized he was standing still, and then she stopped too. 

“Feeling any less lonely now?” the corner of his mouth quirked. He was avoiding her eyes. 

“Oh, shut up,” she spoke a little more harshly than she intended to. “You don’t have to be sarcastic about it.” She grabbed his arm and tugged at it. He started walking again. Words wanted to come tumbling out of her, and it was all she could do to hold them in… I’m so sorry, I was wrong… I made a mistake… I shouldn’t have pushed you away… “I was trying to protect myself,” she spoke flatly. “I’ve been hurt before. That’s how it goes with me. I fall in love, like a total idiot… and no one ever loves me back. No one ever has and no one ever will. I’m… unlovable. So I’m best on my own.”

“You’re not unlovable,” he said sharply, still keeping his face turned away from her as if he was afraid to look at her. “Here, we can go in here,” he added quickly, before she could say anything else. He dragged her into a little cafe, all the way to a booth in a dimly lit corner. She plunked down in the booth with a sigh and buried her face in her hands. He promptly vanished, and she took advantage of his absence to collect her scattered thoughts and take slow, deep breaths. 

He was back in a few minutes with two mugs of hot chocolate and a tray of pastries. He set them down on the table unceremoniously and slid into the booth across from her. She lifted her head, pulling a mug towards her, and taking an eclair from the tray. They were her favorites. He remembered that.

“By the way,” he said slowly, turning a pistachio macaron over in his hand and staring at it like it was going to attack him. “That one book you gave me… it wasn’t that bad…” he smirked a little. “Sappy, overly dramatic, maybe, but…”

“You read one of those novels?” she raised her eyebrows at him. “The great Enjolras, reading a romance novel? Is the world ending?” she giggled in spite of herself.

“Alright, alright, it was stupid,” he grinned. “But also not that bad, I’m serious.”

“I love books like that,” she grinned back, finding she had enough appetite left to eat her eclair after all. 

“You can have them then,” he chuckled. “One wasn’t bad, but I’m probably not going to read more than that.” He fell silent, staring at the macaron for a long moment before finally taking a bite of it. “Why’d you stay away so long?”

“I… I was scared…” she muttered, lowering her eyes. “You said…”

“I said I wasn’t sure yet…” his voice was pained.

“Exactly. You said you weren’t sure. And you weren’t sure for a very, very long time. But I was sure, and it hurt that you weren’t.” Her brow furrowed. 

“Why’d you fall in love with a jerk like me anyway?” He set down his half-eaten macaron and shoved his plate away. 

“Don’t call yourself names,” she sighed again. “I… I thought you wouldn’t let me go. I thought maybe… maybe you’d come after me… try to get me to come back… I dunno what I was thinking. Something like that.” 

“You’d made your decision…” he shrugged. “I didn’t wanna intrude. If… if you wanted your life without me in it, why should I stand in the way?” 

She stared at him and then dropped her head onto the table with a groan. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Reaching across the table hesitantly, he touched her hand where it lay between them, palm-up. She didn’t move. He lifted her hand in both of his, running his thumb across her knuckles.

“You were right, y’know,” he murmured after a long moment of silence. “I mean… you leaving… it did help me figure stuff out. But then… I didn’t think you were gonna just never come back… I thought it was just a temporary thing, but time just went on and on and on and you didn’t even answer the phone, and after a while, I just… gave up, I guess…”

“But you showed up today… and today has been… well, two years exactly.” She lifted her head a little. 

“Cuz you texted,” he grinned lopsidedly. “I’ve been waiting every single day for you to reach out. Sorta had gotten to the point where I thought it just wasn’t going to happen.”

“It really was an accident…” she flushed. 

“How do you text someone by accident?” He frowned and then his eyes widened. “Was that… was that meant for another guy?” his face was suddenly pale.

“I… uh…” she stammered, her head spinning. “No, no… no, there isn’t anyone else… I just…” she let her head drop again, her forehead hitting the table hard. He leaned forward, lifting her head. 

“Stop doing that, you’re gonna hurt yourself…” 

“Wait a minute…” she stared hard at him. “You… you said you figured stuff out… what stuff did you figure out?” 

He smiled faintly at her, still cradling her face in his hands as he brushed loose strands of hair back from her eyes. “You’re beautiful, did you know that?” He traced his thumb over the scar that ran crookedly across her cheek. 

“Why… why would you say that?” her voice trembled.

“Cuz you asked me a question,” he laughed softly. “That was one of the things I figured out. There was more than that though, lots more.”

“Like… like what?” 

“You’re smart,” he murmured. “And funny, and fun to be with… your laugh, it’s like sunshine… and… and…” he shrugged. “I’m not good with words… not in this kind of thing. I s’pose I could give you a revolutionary speech…” he grinned. 

“Are you… are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she faltered. She reached up to cup her hand over his and then leaned back from his touch. “I… I need to…” she shook her head, a little bewildered. “Can we… um… I… I think I need fresh air…” 

“Woah, hey, are you okay?” He jumped up quickly as she stood, wavering on her feet. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the door. 

“No, don’t think I’m okay,” Eponine whispered as they made it out to the sidewalk again. “Did I just… good grief, Enjo, did I make the worst mistake of my life? A… a two year long mistake…” she shivered.

“If you did, then it was only half your mistake,” he muttered. “The other half was mine. Or maybe… probably… more than half…” he laughed humorlessly, pulling her closer against his side. “What’s wrong with us, eh, Ep?”

“I… I need answers. Very clear, very straight answers…” she jerked back to look up at him. There were tears in her eyes. “Tell me… Enjo… just tell me straight… so I know…”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, shaking his head. Her heart sank like a stone. If his arm hadn’t been wrapped around her, she would have crumpled to the ground. 

With his free hand, he cupped her chin, tilting her face towards his. He leaned towards her slowly, giving her time to move back if she wanted to. She moved faster, standing on tiptoe and closing the distance between them in less than a moment as she pressed her lips against his. 

“So this is real,” she murmured, melting into his arms as he held her closer.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, burying his face in her hair. “It’s real. But… but maybe we shouldn’t be standing on the sidewalk like this…” he laughed a little.

“I’m not moving yet,” her voice was muffled against him. “I have yet to hear you say it.”

“Then… I love you.” He was smiling. 

Kiss

Eponine had been on edge all evening. Meeting Enjolras’ parents had been every bit as awkward as she had imagined. She had recited the answers she and Enjolras had rehearsed to all the questions they had asked and hoped desperately that she didn’t sound like a robot. She had stayed silent all through dinner, sitting straight and stiff as a poker while she listened to the conversation around her. 

The main topic of conversation, though, unfortunately was focused on her. Enjolras’ mother couldn’t be happier that her son had finally “found a girl”... at least she hadn’t suspected that it was just a front. But all her excited chatter only made Eponine’s heart sink farther and farther. Why should it hurt her so bad to know this was fake? After all, she had agreed to it. 

Regardless, she had no appetite. She made a valiant effort at eating, mostly pushing the food around on her plate and finally slipped her hands into her lap to hide how they were trembling. She felt, rather than saw, Enjolras looking at her and she hazarded a sideways glance at him. He looked concerned, questions in his eyes… are you okay…? She managed a tiny smile. His hand found hers under the table with a friendly squeeze and he smiled back. She took a deep breath and sat up just a little bit straighter. She couldn’t wait already until this whole weekend was over and she was back in Paris again.

She was relieved when the whole dreadfully formal affair of dinner was over and she pushed back her chair to follow Enjolras into the living room. They both paused in the doorway to look back when his mother jumped up eagerly to call after them…

“Oh, look how perfect… you’ve both ended up under the mistletoe,” she laughed delightedly. “You know the tradition, of course, Enjo, you have to kiss her.” 

Eponine followed Enjolras’ glance up to the ceiling where a bouquet of green leaves and white berries tied with a red ribbon hung over their heads. His face went rapidly through varying shades of red and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, mom, that’s ridiculous,” he scoffed. “What is up with you and these stupid traditions?”

Eponine could feel her face growing warm and she shrank back in the doorway, wondering if it would be appropriate at this moment to simply vanish. 

“Stop it, it’s not stupid, traditions are important,” his mom frowned. “Why should you hesitate anyway? I mean, she is your girlfriend. Which means you’re in love with her, so stop being such a spoil sport.”

Eponine looked nervously from Enjolras to his mom and back again. She knew the signs by now… the way he stiffened his shoulders and lifted his chin like that… he was angry. Which meant he would either stalk off or worse… start a fight. Unless she tried to compromise, which could go badly too. But she didn’t have time to think. She simply acted. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, stopping an angry sentence in its tracks before he even had a chance to get it out. 

He was silent a moment, his eyes growing wide as he turned to stare down at her in surprise. His mother was laughing. “Oh come on, honey, that’s not a real kiss… that’s what you give your grandmother.”

“Mom… stop.” Enjolras snapped at her. He sighed and rolled his eyes again, but he turned to Eponine. She felt her heart suddenly racing and she found herself holding her breath. He was leaning down towards her, his face only inches away. He didn’t look angry anymore… just hesitant… uncertain. Almost… afraid. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered, so softly that she barely heard it. Her hands were trembling and she curled them into fists as she closed her eyes and tilted her face towards his… waiting…

He took her face in his hands… hesitated for a moment… and then she felt it, the gentle pressure of his lips on hers. She expected it to be over soon… but he lingered there for a long, long moment… much longer than would have been necessary to appease his mother. 

She didn’t want it to be over… she didn’t want him to let go… she reached up, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, but he had already pulled away and she opened her eyes. She drew her breath in sharply, lifting her hand in a ferocious gesture as she wiped away a betraying tear. It was suddenly all so clear… the vague feeling somewhere deep inside of her that she had been denying for so long.

She… loved him…

“Is that good enough for you?” he flung the words at his parents. He cast a moment’s glance at her and she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that she had never seen there before. He looked startled. “I’ve… I’ve got something I need to check,” he added and moved off quickly. 

College Whump

It was late. Enjolras glanced at the clock on the wall with a sigh and snapped his laptop shut. The library would be closing in less than five minutes. He scraped papers and notebooks together, shoving them unceremoniously into his bag, not caring how unorganized they were. Eponine would fix it anyway, without even being asked.

“We’re closing,” a voice said somewhere behind him and Enjolras knew who it was without even looking. The wheels of the cleaning cart squeaked against the tiled floor as the withered little janitor pulled out his mop. “You spend too much time here, boy.”

“I do what I have to,” Enjolras sighed again and heaved his bag onto his shoulder, a pen clattering out and rolling halfway across the floor. He let it go. “Have a good night.”

“Say hello to that girl of yours for me,” the janitor called after him. “You should bring her around more often.”

The weather was starting to turn and the night was chilly, a cold breeze swirling in as Enjolras opened the door. He shrugged into his jacket as he walked, zipping it up. It was a dark night, not a single star could be seen. Campus was deserted. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Enjolras quickened his step. Not that the solitude made him nervous… he loved being alone… but he felt suddenly eager to be home in the light and the warmth. Anyway, he missed Eponine, although he hated to admit it. He hadn’t seen her all day.

As he rounded the corner of the law building, something crunched behind him, something that sounded like footsteps in dry leaves. He turned instinctively, wondering why someone would be lurking back behind here this late at night, when suddenly he felt himself seized from behind, a hand clamped over his mouth. It caught him off-guard, but he fought back almost instantly, struggling against his unseen attacker. There was more than one of them… two, three, he couldn’t tell. 

Someone wrenched his backpack from his shoulder and he heard it crashing to the ground, then the sharp hiss of the zipper being undone and the rustling of paper. He fought harder against the hands that held him, managing to twist enough to face them, but it was dark enough that he couldn’t make out their features. He counted swiftly… four, five… six of them. Three of them rushed at him, grabbing his arms and shoving him roughly against the wall of the building, holding him firmly in place. 

“Who are you?” he snapped, his voice low. He wasn’t about to cry for help. “What do you want?”

“Well, well, look who it is,” the answer came, accompanied by a chuckle. “If it isn’t St. Just himself, the righteous savior of France.”

He knew that voice, although he had barely an acquaintance with its owner, and he guessed at the identity of the group that surrounded him like vultures. Royalists… rotten bourgeoisie. They had opposed him in a few political debates… and lost. Enjolras was well known on campus for his radical political beliefs… and people either admired or hated him for them. And regardless of whether it was admiration or hatred that they felt, almost all of them feared him. Which must be why they confronted him in the dark, en masse.

“We only mean to teach you a lesson,” the voice went on, sneering. Enjolras dimly remembered a name and attached it swiftly to his attacker… Antoine, a fellow law student. “Cooperate with us and it will be easier on you.”

“Cooperate?” Enjolras’ voice dripped with sarcasm. He laughed bitterly. “What… let you beat me up?”

“Ideally, we would get you to publicly withdraw your hot-headed opinions,” Antoine spoke contemplatively. “But the great Enjolras is too proud to admit he is wrong, am I right, boys?” A chorus of assent made Enjolras want to laugh again. Pathetic henchmen. “Let’s see if we can get you to kneel.”

It all happened so fast that Enjolras didn’t have time to register what was happening. Had it only been one of them… or even two… he likely would have been able to take them out easily. But six was too many. They forced him down, raining heavy blows on his stomach and kicking against the back of his knees until they buckled and he fell to the ground. He was shoved forward, a knee between his shoulderblades as someone pressed his head against the cement, grinding his face against its rough surface. 

“It’s… pathetic…” Enjolras gasped out, laughing at them in spite of himself. They were jerking his arms back, lashing his wrists together with zip ties. “This is your way of settling an argument? It proves your side is weak. You have nothing to stand on and so you resort to petty vengeance.”

“Shut up,” Antoine spat the words out, anger replacing his mocking tone. “You’re nothing without your words, St. Just. You’re all talk and no action. Let’s see how well you cope when you can’t speak.” 

They were dragging him to his feet again, slamming his head roughly against the bricks as someone gripped his jaw, holding it in a vice grip.

“Open your mouth,” Antoine hissed, his fingers tightening. Enjolras was still laughing. He was cornered and helpless, and somehow he still trumped them. He could sense Antoine’s fury rising, and he didn’t care.

“Fine, do your dirty work. It doesn’t make you any less wrong. You think you can scare me? Just get it over with before you embarrass yourself,” he drew the words out in a lazy drawl, enjoying the fact that Antoine was trembling with rage. He opened his mouth then, letting them shove a handkerchief inside. He was more than a little frightened, but he’d rather have died than show it. There was no getting out of this, so he’d take his beating bravely, without showing a sign of fear. That was the only way to win.

Antoine muttered curses as he pulled duct tape from his pocket, pressing it firmly against Enjolras’ closed lips and wrapping the tape around his head twice. Almost immediately, they dragged him forward and the blows came again, all six of them taking turns kicking him.

It lasted longer than he had thought it would, and the pain was worse than he had bargained for. By the time they had tired of beating him, his vision was blacking out, the world tilting dizzily around him. He lay motionless on the ground where they had dropped him, feeling blood trickling down the side of his face. His entire body ached and he wondered vaguely how many bones they might have broken.

“There, traitor,” Antoine snarled, giving Enjolras a parting kick, swift and brutal. “You’re one of us, you know. Time you stopped fighting against your destiny.” 

And then they were gone, leaving him lying there behind the law building. 

It took him a long, long time to move. He held perfectly still until the pounding in his head started to fade just a little and his heart rate returned to normal. Moving was agony, but he had to get home somehow. He couldn’t just stay there until morning, for the maintenance workers to find. Thankful that at least his feet were free so he could walk, he slowly dragged his body upright, the effort excruciating.

He stood at last, wavering a little, and stumbled back against the brick wall for support, waiting for another long moment until he trusted his balance enough to go forward. He walked slowly, unsteadily, stopping every few minutes to rest. With every passing moment he felt more unsure of himself. He was so tired, so completely exhausted and racked with pain, that it was all he could do to keep from simply dropping where he stood.

It must have taken him hours to get home. It was so late by then that barely anyone was out and about… and every time someone came into view, which wasn’t often, he ducked behind a building to hide until they passed. He wasn’t about to risk being seen in this state. When at last he found himself in front of his own apartment building, he realized he had no strength left. He couldn’t get inside… couldn’t get at his keys or phone… and it must be well past midnight. 

The buttons beside the door glowed faintly in the darkness, numbers one through six. If he could just press the right one, hopefully someone would wake up and think of checking to see who it was. Surely they were worried about him anyway, they would have expected him home hours ago. He twisted sideways, managing to press his shoulder against the number six button, and prayed it would work. With that, he sank to the ground, falling right in front of the door. He could feel himself losing the edges of consciousness.

oOo

Eponine hadn’t been asleep. When Enjolras hadn’t showed up by midnight, she had taken to pacing the living room, muttering nervously under her breath as she glanced at the clock every five minutes. Both Courfeyrac and Combeferre had assured her he would be fine, that this wasn’t all that unusual, really. Enjolras was just like that sometimes, and everyone had given up trying to figure out all his whys and wherefores. So they had gone to bed, and Eponine had turned reluctantly into her own room, trying to force herself to stay calm as she idly paged through a book. Two hours passed, and she hadn’t read a word.

When the doorbell rang, the chime echoing eerily through the dark apartment, she bolted up without a second thought. Enjolras must be home, just lost his keys somehow. Barefoot and in her pajamas, she didn’t even stop for shoes as she practically flew down all six flights of stairs, yanking the main door open. 

But there was… no one there. She frowned into the darkness, confused. What kind of sick prank was that to pull at two in the morning? Snapping out a few angry words, she turned to go back inside, but stopped when she heard a groan. An icy chill traced down her spine as she looked down… and saw Enjolras huddled on the ground at her feet. 

“Oh my word, Enjo…” she gasped out in horror, falling to her knees by his side. It took her a moment to take in the situation, noticing first the blood matted in his hair. His face was turned to the ground, but he turned slightly at the sound of her voice and she gasped again. “What… what on earth has happened?” she reached out tentatively, her fingers grazing the side of his head and pulling away sharply as if she was afraid to touch him. Her eyes dropped to his bound wrists and her heart twisted.

She stood quickly, hooking her hands under his arms as she tried to drag him up. She managed to get him halfway to a sitting position, although he moaned in pain. But his weight was too much for her and she gently lowered him again, trying to calm the panicked racing of her heart.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” she choked out and turned to run up the stairs. It was harder going up quickly than coming down and by the fourth floor, her legs were trembling. But she pushed on, flying into the apartment breathlessly to bang on Combeferre’s door. Reckless of the strict quiet policy, she cried out his name, pounding harder. In a moment, he opened the door, fumbling with his glasses as he squinted at her.

“Ponine? What on earth…” 

She grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward. “No time… to explain… Enjo is hurt bad…”

Courfeyrac’s door flew open and he stared sleepily at them, his hair sticking straight up. He didn’t even have a chance to get any words out as Eponine cried jumbled phrases, tugging Combeferre towards the main door.

“He’s downstairs… tied up… bleeding…”

They were wide awake in a moment and took the stairs two at a time, clattering noisily to the main floor. Enjolras hadn’t moved from where Eponine had found him several minutes before. He barely responded when his friends called his name, his eyes only flickering open and shut again. 

“I’ll get him,” Combeferre said grimly, nodding at the others. “Ep, you go ahead and get the doors, Courf, stay behind me in case I lose my balance.” And he bent to sling Enjolras onto his back in a fireman’s carry, his practiced ease seeming to hint that he had done this before.

Eponine moved ahead slowly on the stairs, taking them backwards as she kept her eyes riveted on Enjolras. A few times Combeferre nearly stumbled and both she and Courfeyrac rushed to help support him. It felt like hours before they reached the sixth floor and Combeferre laid Enjolras down on the mattress on the living room floor. Wearily, Enjolras turned on his side, curling his body slightly, and groaned in pain.

“We should call for an ambulance,” Combeferre frowned and Enjolras shook his head feebly. Eponine had run for a scissors and now knelt on the floor to carefully cut his hands free. “Or at least Joly,” Combeferre went on, running his hands through his hair as he tried to assess the damage. “Good grief, what time is it?”

“Past two in the morning,” Eponine muttered as her hands moved to Enjolras’ face. Gingerly, she tried to peel the tape away, cringing at every muffled noise he made.

“Found the first aid kit,” Courfeyrac spoke breathlessly as he flipped open the lid and rummaged through it. “What all do you figure we need, Ferre?”

“Almost got it,” Eponine whispered as Enjolras groaned again. Slowly she pulled the tape away, inch by agonizing inch, wincing every time he did. “Shh… hold still… I’m almost done…” She pulled the handkerchief from his mouth and tossed it aside, lifting a glass of water to his lips before she would let him speak. “Who did this to you, huh?” she murmured, gently brushing back the hair that was matted to his forehead with dried blood.

“No ambulance,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

“Joly’s on his way,” Courfeyrac glanced up from his phone. “He’ll decide whether we need an ambulance or not.” 

Combeferre nodded tensely. “Good. We’ll do what we can until he gets here. Eponine, you still have those scissors? I need you to help me get his shirt off… looks like his shoulder’s dislocated so I don’t dare pull it over his head… sorry, Enjo, I hope you don’t like this shirt too much…” They managed to get his jacket off, easing it out from underneath him and then carefully cut his t-shirt away to reveal blood and bruises covering his torso.

Crazy

“Soooo cold…” Eponine’s voice emerged, muffled, from the depths of the closet where she had been rummaging for three minutes already. Enjolras had changed ages ago and was half-collapsed on the bed with an enormous law book perched on his knees. He barely grunted in response to Eponine’s comment, frowning as he turned the pages. He had scarcely come out of the book long enough to draw breath all evening, which was annoying Eponine exceedingly, although she hadn’t dared say so… yet. She tried to make it a point not to interfere with her husband’s work, but by this point, it was bordering on neglect… of her, that is… and it made her feel a little left out and lonely. In fact, it had the tendency to make her a little grumpy as well, which is why she didn’t bother picking up the stack of folded t-shirts that she spilled onto the closet floor. She merely assisted their disorder with a well-aimed kick, and snatched up one of Enjolras’ hoodies to ward off the cold.

“I said it was cold,” she echoed herself, a bit peevishly, as she shoved open the closet door with her hip, simultaneously tugging the hoodie over her head. It hung halfway to her knees and she shoved the sleeves up enough that her hands could poke out. 

“Mmm…” was Enjolras’ only answer. It was doubtful whether he had actually registered what she was saying. She stood still a moment, torn between anger and mischief, and suddenly chose the latter as something sparked in her eyes. 

“Like icy cold,” she rambled on as she rummaged on the desk for her hairbrush, and found it beneath a stack of legal papers. “Frigid. Arctic, even. You wouldn’t mind if I moved the penguins in here, would you, Enj? I mean, it’s the ideal climate…”

“Mmhmm,” Enjolras nodded, turning the page. Eponine rolled her eyes.

“I ordered half a dozen today. They’ll be here by Thursday. Oh, and the polar bears too. I got three of those. You wouldn’t mind if they took your side of the bed, of course? I’ve got nowhere else for them to sleep…”

“You ordered what?” His brow furrowed as he scanned a paragraph. It was the longest sentence he had said all night. Eponine grinned wider.

“Penguins. And polar bears.”

“Oh, yeah…” Enjolras muttered, nodding as if he comprehended this and it was perfectly normal.

“The seals I’ll keep in the bathtub,” Eponine went on, running the brush through her hair as she chatted on in a conversational tone. “Which reminds me, I’ll need you to pick up seven tons of raw fish on your way home from the office tomorrow. I can’t, cuz I gotta work late and the seals will be here and hungry before I get back from the shop.” 

“Fish, got it…” Enjolras answered, with the most coherency he had displayed all night. He must not have heard the ‘seven tons’ part or realized that she meant to feed said fish to seals.

“Yup, a whole arctic zoo here in our bedroom,” Eponine nodded at her reflection in the mirror. “Won’t it be wonderful, Freddy, dear?”

“Huh?” he actually lifted his head and looked at her for once, looking a little confused. “Did you just…”

“Did I what, Freddy?” Eponine batted her eyes innocently and flashed him a toothy grin. He wrinkled his nose at her.

“Stop doing that,” he huffed. “My name is not Freddy.”

“Yes it is, silly,” Eponine laughed, delighted that she suddenly had his attention. “Shall I dig out your birth certificate and prove it?”

“It’s Frederic,” he looked at her funny. “And I don’t go by that anyway, you know that… hey, what was all that about penguins and polar bears, Ep?”

Eponine laughed again, flinging her hair back over her shoulder and tossing her brush aside. “So your subconscious was listening, at least. Do you realize, Frederic Antoine Gabriel Augustine Enjolras, that you haven’t said more than a dozen words to me since you got home?”

“Good grief, must you throw all those stupid names at me?” he grimaced. 

“You deserve it, Freddy,” Eponine giggled and danced forward to snatch the book out of his hands. “It’s bedtime, in case you haven’t realized, thus you are done with this. What’s up, anyway? You’re never this absorbed in your cases.”

“This one is important,” he protested, trying to take his book back, but she moved out of his reach. “Maybe the most important case I’ve ever been a part of. I was lucky to get in on it. It concerns workers’ rights, and could be working up to become a landmark case… perhaps even a cornerstone of the revolution. Do you realize what that means, Ep? The fact that I could be a part of this…”

She recognized that look in his eyes, that wild light that consumed him every time he got into a revolutionary fervor, and she sighed longsufferingly. He had told her, back when he proposed, that she’d have to share him with the revolution. But must she on a freezing cold night in the middle of January? Important though the revolution may be, it didn’t have any claim on her husband tonight. In fact, it was intruding.

“More important than me, I know,” she said in a tiny voice, suddenly feeling less mischievous and more mournful. She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, it just came out that way. She was standing in the middle of the room, hugging the book against her chest as her head drooped a little. A sudden pained look shot across his face.

“Put the damn book away and come to bed, Ep,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

She set it teetering precariously on the top of a careless stack in the corner of the room and glared at it. What other woman in the world had to compete with a law book, of all things, for her husband’s attention? It was not to be borne. She stood there a moment, considering, and then grinned again, impulsively, and whirled to face Enjolras with a look that made him suddenly wary. But he didn’t dare question it.

“I was kidding about the penguins and polar bears, in case you were wondering,” she laughed as she took a flying leap and landed onto the bed so hard that he nearly fell off with a grunt of surprise. She hugged her pillow and buried her face in it for a moment before peeking up at him over the edge of it, her eyes wide and pleading. “But the seals, I still want those. I can have them, can’t I, please?”

“Seals…” he shook his head, bewildered, and decided he wasn’t even going to bother trying to figure out what she meant. “Come here, you…” he tugged the pillow out of her arms and shoved it impatiently aside, pulling her towards him. “Hey, I’m sorry if I was ignoring you… I didn’t mean to,” he added in a whisper, his voice eager and sincere. She let him pull her close, melting against him as he pressed gentle kisses in her hair. 

“Mmm… I’ll forgive you this time…” she said slowly, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. “But, y’know, I’ve been thinking something… developing a theory, of sorts…”

“What sort of theory?” he murmured, and kissed her again, this time on her forehead. She smiled.

“Oh, about husbands taking their wives for granted, y’know. I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“A conclusion, eh?” he grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. She laughed.

“Yes. It’s because we’re always around… wives, that is. So the husbands forget what it is to be without us, and just take it for granted that we’ll always be here.”

“You will always be here, won’t you?” he pulled back and looked at her curiously, his head tilted to one side. He still wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about, and that last line of hers was scaring him a little.

“I think what needs to be done is sometimes the men ought to be deprived of what they want. And then when they get it, they’ll appreciate it more…” She grinned, noticing his gaze drop to her lips for a moment before moving back to her eyes. Perfect timing… he was leaning in to press a kiss on her lips… and she jerked back suddenly, covering his mouth with her hand. His eyes opened wide in surprise.

“What on earth, Ep?” he protested, his voice muffled against her hand. 

“I’m going to experiment and see what happens,” she nodded resolutely. “Tonight, you’re doing without me.” 

“Doing what?” he cried, sitting bolt upright as she scrambled off the bed.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” she grinned, tossing her head and shoving her hands into the pocket of his hoodie she was wearing. She made something of a comical figure standing there in his enormous sweatshirt, her chin jutting out in mock defiance. He didn’t seem to catch the joking note in her voice at all. In fact, he looked a little panicked.

“Wait… Ep…” he spoke pleadingly as she turned towards the door. “Did I… are you… are you mad at me? Cuz I’ll do anything…”

“Nah, I’m just experimenting,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Seeya in the morning, sleep well…” She paused in the doorway and he stared at her, trying to decide whether she actually meant it or not. But the sparkle in her eyes gave her away.

“You… you…” he sputtered, trying to find a suitable word… and words failed him. She giggled and ducked out of the room before he could begin to move. “Hey, wait a second…” he called after her. She dove recklessly for the couch, stretching out and pretending to be fast asleep within the three seconds it took him to get out to the living room. In spite of the fact that her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, she could perfectly picture him standing over her, hands on his hips. “You little… come to bed, Ep.”

“Nope,” she grinned, keeping her eyes closed, but her body tense. She knew exactly what he would do next, and she was waiting for it… sure enough, his hands were already on her arms as he pulled her up, but she jerked away before he could lift her, ducking under his arm and dashing off into the next room. He only stood there for a few bewildered seconds before he was after her like a flash. He found her in the tiny back laundry room, and in her haste to escape him again, she knocked over the broom and mop and destroyed all the laundry that had been folded in neat piles and set against the wall. Tripping over the broom handle, he followed her into the kitchen as she laughed hysterically.

“You think you can hide from me?” he called out, barely able to stifle his own laughter. “This is a six room apartment on the fifth floor, Eponine. And you’re not wearing shoes, so you can’t leave. There is literally nowhere for you to go.”

“I can easily get my shoes,” she darted out from her corner beside the fridge and he lunged for her, missing just barely. “Or go out in Paris barefoot,” she added breathlessly, laughing at him from the doorway as he scrambled after her, colliding with a kitchen chair.

“You wouldn’t…” he gasped for breath as he detangled himself from the chair and dragged himself up again. She watched, waiting until he was on his feet again, and then disappeared down the hall, her laughter echoing behind her.

Going into the office was her fatal mistake. He cornered her in there, and she pressed herself up against the wall, filled with the sort of adrenaline that makes you somehow thrillingly terrified of whoever is chasing you, regardless of how un-terrifying they actually are. 

“See?” he smirked as he loomed over her. “I’ve got you now! Surrender!”

“Never!” Eponine shrieked with laughter as he scooped her up, lifting her high into the air and spinning in a dizzy circle. “Agh… stop it… you’ll drop me!”

He didn’t even bother answering, just half-carried, half-dragged her out of the office as she struggled laughingly, and plopped her down breathlessly on the couch. 

“I demand surrender,” he ordered again, still laughing as she moved to get up and he pinned her down on her back gently. “I won, fair and square.”

“I shall never surrender,” she grinned up at him. “You can’t make me.”

“Oh?” he quirked an eyebrow at her and, without warning, began to tickle her, mercilessly.

“No fair, no fair…” she cried out between spasms of laughter, writhing to get away from him. “Guerilla warfare! Illegal! Unethical!” She squirmed desperately, trying to slap his hands away. “Okay, I surrender! I give up! You win, okay?” She played dead as he finally stopped, drooping at an odd angle over the edge of the couch and letting her tongue hang out. He was still laughing, but grew quiet suddenly… very quiet.

“Hey… you okay?” he nudged her, his voice concerned. “Ep, I didn’t mean… I was just playing…” he sounded a little forlorn, and her heart melted, but she didn’t move just yet. She could hear rustling as he knelt on the floor beside her. “Ep, please… listen… I’m sorry. Awful sorry. I… I didn’t mean to ignore you, or make you feel taken for granted, or unvalued… you… you’re the most important person in my life. The most important thing that ever happened to me.”

Eponine smiled, opening her eyes. “Hey, I’m not mad, Enjo,” she murmured. “I just… I dunno…” she laughed and he visibly relaxed, nervous tension that she had hardly noticed before leaving his body as he slumped forward a little.

“You didn’t mean it… about sleeping on the couch… did you?”

“Nah, I was just giving you a hard time,” she grinned. He breathed a long, slow sigh of relief and then reached for her, hesitantly. She went to him this time, closing the gap between them as she slid off the couch and into his lap. He smiled, burying his face in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her.

“So we can go to bed then?” he asked hopefully and she nodded, still laughing softly. “Good,” he added, standing up and carrying her with him, one arm under her knees and the other around her back. “Cuz now I’m all worn out.” 

“See, got your exercise in for the day,” Eponine giggled as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down gently, tucking the covers in before he flopped down beside her. 

“Ugh… I’d rather not…” he mock-groaned as he buried his face in his pillow. “Don’t you dare make this a daily occurrence.”

“What, that wasn’t fun?” she teased, tugging at his t-shirt until he turned to face her. “You wanna know something?” she grinned and, moving closer, pressed a kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

He smiled tenderly at her, the warmth in his eyes doing all sorts of things to her heart. She let him pull her closer, tucking her against him as he settled down with a happy sigh. 

“I love you too,” he whispered, and kissed her back.

Montparnasse

“It’s over,” Eponine spoke calmly, but her eyes shot angry sparks. “I’m done with you.” The last words she practically snarled. She saw his face change, realization and something almost like desperation creeping into his eyes, crowding out the rage. He reached out to her… not touching her, just holding out his hand.

“Eponine, please…” 

She slapped his hand away. She could still see the red mark on his wrist where she had bitten him in sheer blinding anger only a few moments before when he had grabbed her arms… she had surprised herself with that… but she wasn’t sorry. At least, not yet.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed and with that… she fled. 

He was going to follow her… she was sure of it. She darted down the sidewalk and crossed the street, reckless of traffic. She slipped into an alley, running so fast and so hard she didn’t even realize where she was going. Her instinct kicked in and she let herself go, running until she thought her lungs would burst. She couldn’t have gone far though, because when she stopped to figure out where she was, she realized this area was vaguely familiar. Somewhere near the Musain, at least. 

She let herself collapse against the smoke-charred bricks of an abandoned warehouse and gasped in shuddering breaths, wrapping her arms around her torso to ground herself. She reached up, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes to rid herself of the unwanted tears. That was all it had taken, that little bit of running… and she found herself not even mad at him anymore. But it was too soon to go back. She’d stall for a while… just sit here in this alley…

A low laugh echoed somewhere behind her and her scalp prickled. A shudder ran down her spine.

“Well, well,” the voice went on, the words slow and measured. “Look what the cat dragged in. You lost, ‘Ponine?”

She turned slowly to face him, slipping her hand into her pocket. Icy fear broke over her, although she didn’t show it. She had left her knife at home.

“Golden boy finally kick you out, eh?” Montparnasse smirked in the semi-darkness of the alley, running the blade of a knife against his thumb as he leaned against the wall behind him. The blade caught a sliver of sunlight and flashed threateningly. 

“Shut up, Parnasse,” Eponine hissed, backing up a step. He only laughed again. Flicking his knife shut, he moved towards her. Reaching out, he clamped his fingers around her wrist. She stiffened, but held her chin high. Experience had taught her that showing fear only made him worse. So did fighting back. She had to weigh her actions carefully. 

“I’ve missed you, ‘Ponine,” his voice held a whining note… mockery. “You haven’t come to see me in so long… don’t you care about me anymore?” he lifted his free hand, touching her hair. She fought inside of herself to keep from recoiling in disgust. 

“I never cared,” she grit her teeth. “Let go of me.”

“Why, what’s your hurry? You just got here…” He leaned in closer until she nearly choked on the smell of sickly-sweet cologne and tobacco that always hovered over him. 

“I have places to go,” she stalled for time, mentally drawing out her plan of escape… the best way to free herself from his grip and run for safety. He laughed in her face.

“Consider your plans cancelled,” he murmured easily. “You can surely spend a little time with an old friend.” He was so close that his nose bumped her cheek and she lost control. She lashed out, raking her free hand across his face, lunging backward as she fought to get free. She fought like a wildcat, but he was more practiced. In moments he had her shoved up against the bricks of the wall behind her, pressed so tight that she could barely move. 

“Animal,” he hissed, blood dripping from his cheek where she had clawed at him. He flipped her around in a liquid motion, grinding her forehead against the rough bricks as he wrenched her arms backward. Instinct told her to scream as he lashed her wrists together, but she was in Patron-Minette territory… likely any outcry would only bring more of the gang. If she could just beg her way out of it… promise him money perhaps? She laughed mentally at herself. He knew her too well. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” she smiled up at him as he spun her back around to face him. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Oh, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Montparnasse chuckled delightedly, the sound chasing shivers down her spine. He flicked his knife open again, lifting the blade against her throat, holding it so she could feel the chill of the steel against her skin. “Your father will be glad to see you,” he added, his grin broadening. 

She swallowed hard, forcing her eyes away from the blade, focusing them on the wall on the other side of the alley. “I didn’t come here alone,” she tried again. “Enjolras isn’t far behind. He’ll… be angry if…” 

“Shut up,” Montparnasse growled. He pulled the knife away and yanked a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it over her mouth. “You’re coming with me, you little wretch.” He grabbed her arm, tugging so hard at her that she had no choice but to stumble along a few steps. She gathered her wits quickly, though, digging her heels into the cobblestones of the old street, dropping her weight so he couldn’t drag her. He was skillful, fast, and graceful… but not necessarily strong. 

“Idiot…” he doubled back, yanking her to her feet and pushing her against the wall again. He looked furious for a moment and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the twist of his knife… likely in her arm, just enough to inflict pain and fear… he had done that before. But when she opened her eyes again, his face had changed… back to its original leering, mocking grin. “Aw, ‘Ponine, you’re not scared of me, are you?” he crooned, tracing a finger along her jaw. She shuddered with rage and disgust as he leaned in close again, pressing a rough kiss on her mouth, even over top of the gag. She tried again to fight him, twisting feebly in his grip… and suddenly he was jerked back away from her so swiftly that she let out a muffled cry of surprise. She watched, eyes wide, as he was thrown down, landing hard on his back on the cobblestones.

Before he could scramble up again, Enjolras moved forward, pressing a boot on the fallen man’s chest, grinding his heel down as he spoke between clenched teeth.

“You will never… touch her… again…” he drew the words out, their meaning heavy with implied threats. But Montparnasse only laughed defiantly. And he was on his feet again before he realized what was happening as Enjolras dragged him up. 

“Do you hear me?” Enjolras hissed, slamming him against the side of the building. “You keep your filthy hands away from her. If you so much as come within ten miles of her again, I will tear you to pieces with my bare hands.” 

Montparnasse attempted a swing, but Enjolras caught his arm midair, twisting his wrist back roughly. Eponine felt her knees buckle and she slid slowly to the ground as she watched the two men grapple desperately in the shadows. The fight was short, but fierce, ending with Enjolras wrestling Montparnasse to the ground again and punching him over and over until the wretched thief cried out for mercy. Enjolras relented, moving back slightly and Montparnasse stumbled to his feet, half-bent over, his arms clasped round his middle. His face was bloody. He staggered back a step or two and then turned to stare at them both, at Enjolras kneeling in the middle of the alley and Eponine huddled in a corner, curled into a ball as if she could vanish inside of herself.

“Just you wait,” he hissed, his old smirk back on his face, revealing a chipped front tooth. “She’ll just come crawling back to me, Apollo,” he snarled out the familiar nickname sarcastically. “I know her. She’s from the gutter, and filth never strays too far away. It’s just a matter of time.”

Enjolras lunged towards him with an angry roar, but Montparnasse was gone already, slithering through the shadows like the snake that he was. For a moment Enjolras stared after him, fists clenched at his sides, his back to Eponine. He turned towards her slowly, kneeling beside her for a moment. She dropped her eyes, frightened and ashamed. Placing his hand on her head, he pressed it down gently so he could get at the handkerchief knotted at the back, and pulled it away from her mouth. He reached for her wrists then and groaned.

“Zip ties,” he muttered. “I don’t have a knife. I… I could try to break them… but… I don’t want to hurt you…” he fell silent for a moment, just looking down at her, and then wordlessly, he scooped her up, cradling her against him. She let her head fall against his shoulder, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

“Can I… take you home?” he whispered, his voice uncertain, hesitant. She nodded. Neither of them spoke on the way back. He took back ways, avoiding the main streets until they got to the apartment. 

“I… I can walk up the stairs,” she murmured, but he didn’t answer, just tightened his hold on her as he carried her up all six flights, never faltering. He set her down on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. She bowed her head, letting her tears fall as she listened to his footsteps in the distance, and the sound of drawers sliding open and shut. He came back with a pair of scissors and a first aid kit.

“You won’t run again, will you?” he smiled gently, his voice almost teasing. She shook her head, a muffled sob escaping her. He cut the zip ties carefully, lifting her wrists to see them closer. “Did he hurt you?” He ran his thumb gently over the red lines left by the ties. “Besides this.”

“No,” she sniffed, shaking her head. She cowered away from him, in spite of his gentle touch. The mark on his wrist from her bite… she could see it still, slightly swollen and bleeding a little. “I… I’m so sorry…” she gasped out, folding in on herself as she cried harder.

“Aw, forget about that,” he pulled his hand away, dragging his sleeve down awkwardly to hide the mark. “I deserved it.” 

“Well…” Eponine dragged the word out, hesitating. “I… I guess you did at that…” the corner of her mouth curved up a little and she lifted her head slightly. 

“So I’m the one who’s sorry,” he muttered, snapping the first aid kit open abruptly. “I… I’m trying to… to learn to control my temper… and it keeps getting me in trouble…”

“And I’m trying to stop running,” Eponine murmured as he took her wrists in his hands, gently applying neosporin to the raised, bloody welts. 

“Did you… did you mean what you said earlier?” He glanced at her hesitantly and looked quickly away again, focusing on the roll of gauze as he wrapped bandages around her wrists. “About… about it being over… with us…” his voice cracked and he turned his face so she couldn’t see it. “I… I can help you find a place. Or you can stay with Louise tonight, or…”

“I didn’t mean it.” she spoke sharply, and then her voice softened as he finished wrapping her wrists and let go of her. “Enjo, I didn’t mean it…” she reached out, laying her hand on his arm. “Please… look at me…”

He didn’t move at first, waiting until she repeated her request, and then he turned his head slowly. There were tears in his eyes. It took her a moment to realize it, and the fact hit her like a gunshot. He was crying… she had made him cry… 

With a choked sob, she twisted into his arms, burrowing against him, relief flooding her as she felt him hug her tightly. She clutched handfuls of his t-shirt and sobbed against his shoulder. He pressed one hand against her back, sliding the other up to tangle his fingers in her hair.

“I’m trying, Ep,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m trying. I’m sorry that I keep failing. I don’t… I don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Why?” she whispered back, gulping back another sob. “Tell me why.” 

“Because… because I’m falling in love with you.” 

Butterfly Kisses

It was the tiniest butterfly she had ever seen… not a little moth, but a tiny and beautiful butterfly, every detail perfect, the colors vibrant. She reached out slowly, cupping her hands around the flower it was resting on. It fluttered up at the movement and she closed her hands over it, as gently as possible. For a moment she stood still, smiling like a delighted little child at her closed hands, and then turned to half-run, half-dance to where Enjolras was sitting under the tree, still reading his book. Or, well he appeared to be reading his book, but what she hadn’t noticed was that his eyes were more often than not riveted on her, watching her every move. He smiled to himself as he watched her… and then quickly turned back to his book as he realized she was coming up to him.

“Enjo…” she gasped out his name breathlessly as she fell to her knees beside him, holding her hands carefully against her heart. “Enjo, guess what I stole,” she giggled, her eyes dancing teasingly as she showed him her hands but didn’t open them.

He grinned at her, his eyes softening as they wandered slowly over her face. “My heart?” he murmured, hardly realizing he realized he had said it out loud.

“No, look it’s a tiny…” Eponine rattled on quickly, and suddenly it registered in her head what he had said. Her heart stopped beating and she glanced up at him, both shocked and utterly bewildered. “Wait. What?!” 

He stared at her, a little startled himself. “Um… I mean… that is… what?” he stammered out, flustered.

“You… you said…” she shook her head slowly, her eyes wide and serious. Her hands were still carefully cupped around the butterfly, but only by instinct. She had forgotten about it, in spite of the gentle flutter of its wings against her palms. She let go then, and the tiny prisoner escaped, fluttering up and away and out of sight. She didn’t even notice as she laid her hand, fingers spread, against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her touch. Her eyes met his. He looked… not afraid, really, but… nervous… caught off guard… and his heart was racing. She could feel it.

Hesitantly, he lifted his own hand and pressed it over hers, holding it firmly over his heart. He laughed a little, the sound awkward, and leaned forward until his nose nearly bumped hers. “You little thief,” he whispered, grinning lopsidedly at her. And then he kissed her… soft and gentle and sweet.

She smiled into the kiss, feeling her own heart start racing… and then slow and calm as she melted into his embrace. He pulled her close as she tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, letting her eyes fall closed. But the faintest tickle of something against her cheek caused her eyes to fly open again. She lifted her hand to her cheek as he chuckled. 

“It’s a butterfly,” he smiled. “A tiny one.”

Bad Moods

Eponine was already sitting at the table when Enjolras staggered into the kitchen. She had an empty mug sitting on the table in front of her. Her chin was propped in her hands, her eyes closed and with dark shadows underneath, her hair tangled and sticking up in every direction. He didn’t look any better. In fact, he might have looked worse. He glanced at her, his eyes red, as he mumbled something incoherent. She didn’t answer, didn’t even look up, and he wondered if she was asleep.

With a shrug, he turned to the counter, fumbling for a coffee mug. He just needed coffee and then maybe he’d feel better. But when he flipped the switch on the coffee maker, nothing happened. Muttering angry words under his breath, he flipped it on and off again. He desperately needed this thing to start.

“It’s not working,” Eponine said shortly. He glanced back at her. Her eyes were still closed. 

“Damn it,” he snapped and rattled the coffee maker hard enough that if it hadn’t already been broken, that surely would have done it. 

“Like that’s gonna fix anything,” Eponine mumbled. If she had bothered to open her eyes, she would have rolled them. 

“Can’t make anything worse,” he rattled it again and then slammed his fist down on it, good and hard. Somewhere, something cracked. 

“Yeah, it can always get worse.”

“It would get better if you would stop talking,” he grit his teeth. “What am I supposed to do without any coffee? I have classes this morning.”

“Then don’t go, they wouldn’t want you like this anyway,” Eponine grinned in spite of herself. “You’re such a grouch.”

“Oh, whatever,” he groaned, shoving the coffee maker back against the counter. He shoved a little too hard, and something cracked again, a piece falling off and landing on the counter. Eponine opened her eyes at that, and they were just as red as his were. 

“Now look, you’ve broken it worse,” her tone was accusatory. He didn’t bother answering, just rummaged through the cupboards until he found a box of poptarts and plunked it down unceremoniously on the table between them.

“We’re out of the strawberry ones,” he said flatly and she grinned again.

“Yup, I ate the last one,” she gestured at the crumpled wrapper lying on the table beside her.

“Seriously?” He sounded genuinely upset at that. “I hate blueberry poptarts,” he grimaced at the box.

“So go without.” Merciless.

With a sigh, he collapsed into his chair and, instead of taking one out of the box, he simply dumped the box upside down, half a dozen pop tarts falling out and sliding in every direction. He grabbed one and tore the wrapper open, taking a bite and chewing angrily.

“If you toasted it, it wouldn’t be so bad,” she remarked and he glared at her.

“You, you like any kind of poptart. You could’ve eaten one of these and saved me the strawberry one.”

“I wanted strawberry today.”

“You’re heartless.” He took another bite, almost murderously. Eponine laughed.

“You’re the only person in the world who could look frightening whilst eating a poptart.”

“I’ll show you frightening,” he snapped, crumbling the poptart in his fist. “I’m not even hungry.” He left the pile of crumbs just lying on the table and wiped his hand on his t-shirt, leaving smears of blueberry jam. Eponine raised her eyebrows at that. A little odd… he wasn’t acting completely like himself. He stood up abruptly and stalked into the other room without another word. She sat there a moment longer, wondering if she should clean up the mess… but then she decided she didn’t care. 

He was already in the bathroom by the time she left the kitchen. She went to look through the closet, snatching clothes without paying much attention to what she grabbed, and dressing quickly. Man, she was in a bad mood today. She had swirled in nightmares all night long, tossing and turning restlessly, and now she was perfectly miserable. She felt like snapping at everyone, like throwing and slapping and kicking things, and it almost frightened her, how angry she was, almost without reason. But at the same time she didn’t care. She kicked at a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Enjolras!” she yelled, kicking the pile again. “You keep making messes, and I’m done with it, okay? Pick up after yourself…” she turned to find him standing right behind her, looking a little bewildered. “Look at this,” she hissed, gesturing at the laundry. “You’re an absolute slob, d’you know that? I’m sick of picking up after you…” she scooped up the laundry and shoved it into his arms.

“I don’t care,” he said drily, letting the pile fall to the floor again. “This is my flat, and if I wanna be messy, then I’m gonna be messy.” 

“It’s mine too, and I won’t live in filth,” she huffed, pointing at the pile as if scolding a disobedient child. “Now pick it up.”

“Talk like that and you’ll get yourself kicked out,” he muttered darkly and stalked out of the room without a second glance at the pile. She scurried after him, her eyes narrowing as he flopped down on the couch and reached for the TV remote. She plunked herself down at the other end of the couch, sitting cross-legged, and reached out to snatch up the remote, hitting the off button only moments after he had turned it on.

“Come on, Eponine, give it back,” he rolled his eyes at her. 

“You hate TV anyway,” she shrugged and sailed the remote behind the couch. He stared at her for a moment or two, as if not sure what to think, and then without a word, he got up, lifting the couch and moving it aside effortlessly, dumping her off in the process. When she picked herself up from the floor, she was madder than ever before. She managed to get the remote away from him again before he even had a chance to sit down again and ducked away from him when he tried to get it back.

“You’re not watching TV,” she said firmly, and sat down on top of the remote, her chin jutting out stubbornly as she glared up at him. “Not until you clean up the mess you made. And I mean everywhere. There’s stuff all over the bathroom, you didn’t wash the dishes when you were supposed to last night, and you keep trashing the bedroom. Now I have to sleep in there with all your stupid stuff, and it’s an absolute wreck, which is not okay.”

“So?” he shrugged. “I have three things to say about that. One, I don’t care about the mess. Two, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. And three, don’t pick fights with people twice your size.” So saying, he scooped her up, meaning to set her down elsewhere, but she fought back with such vengeance that he changed his mind and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of feed. She struggled wildly, kicking and punching, while he suddenly found himself preoccupied with keeping her from falling and hurting herself. He had forgotten all about the remote by now.

“Put me down… idiot…” she gasped out, twisting in his arms. Her hair was falling tangled over her face and it was making her hot and miserable and ten times angrier. “Put me down… or you’ll regret it…”

“Make me,” he was grinning now, she could hear it in his voice. The impudence… how dare he?! 

“I’m… going… to… kill you…” she panted, struggling to get herself upright again. She was dangling halfway down his back, and it was hard to think whilst upside-down. She kicked harder, trying to jab her knees into his chest, but he was holding on too tight. So she used her hands instead, managing to twist enough that she could tickle his sides. It didn’t take long, and he folded in on himself, collapsing to the floor with her on top of him.

“Ep… no… Ep… stop…” he begged breathlessly as she took advantage of her momentary victory to tickle harder. She managed to get detangled and pulled herself up to kneel on his chest, grinning down at him. 

“I win,” she tossed her head triumphantly. “Admit it.” 

“You win, you win,” he gasped out, falling back in relief as she stopped tickling and closing his eyes while he tried to catch his breath. She sighed, a long, loud, drawn-out sigh, and flopped down on top of him, burying her face in his t-shirt. He grunted from the impact, reaching up reflexively to grip her forearms. “I said you win…” he groaned. “Which means you stop fighting.”

“I did stop,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “What were we even fighting about?”

“Sorry,” he grinned, letting go of her arms and hugging her instead. “Guess I got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Mmm…” she sighed against him. “Me too. And sorry I ate your poptart.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he added.

“I’ll help,” she giggled. But neither of them moved yet.

“What say we go out for breakfast instead? A place with really good coffee and more digestible food than poptarts?”

“Agreed,” Eponine grinned. “But not right this second, cuz I’m not moving yet.” She snuggled against him and closed her eyes. Chuckling, he half-raised himself enough that he could press a kiss on the top of her head and then fell back again, holding her close.

“Fifteen minutes then, that’s all I’m giving you. I’m hungry.”

EE Scraps

The symbol looked familiar… and she smiled in remembrance when she recognized it… the symbol stamped onto Marius’ ring.

“Dear Eponine,” the letter read in Cosette’s curling handwriting. “I pray this note finds you well. Marius has gone to Toulon. He is not yet certain if he will be able to help, but he is determined to try. He has influence, and his grandfather has friends in high places. All may yet be well. Trust in God, my friend, and never stop praying. We must have faith that all will be well in the end. Please do stop and see me sometime… I would appreciate the chance to know you better! It has been so long. Yours sincerely, Cosette Pontmercy.”

Eponine fairly flew all the way to find Courfeyrac and Joly, the letter crumpled as she clutched it close. Breathlessly, she spilled out her story, her eyes searching their faces for some sign of assurance.

oOo

If he was dead, he must be in hell. All around him was a searing, burning blackness… pain unlike any he had ever known. He had thought death would be a welcome relief… but this… this was torture. He couldn’t even tell where the pain was coming from, it seemed to roll over him in waves. He couldn’t move, he didn’t have the strength to cry out, he couldn’t even open his eyes. And yet it was madness to lie there and suffer!

To this had his glorious revolution come… naught but the blackness of night and the hideousness of unimaginable pain. God forgive him, he had tried… was there no mercy?

Summoning every bit of strength in his body, he managed to shift feebly to the side. The pain shot through him again worse than ever, rippling like dancing flames. It dulled his mind so he could not think… scenes were flashing through his memory but he could put no sense to them. Faces he must know, words he must have spoken… where had they all come from and where had they gone? And why could he not shut them out and be left in peace? 

And now a blinding light… ah, this was it… this the moment! He was not dead yet… but there was the light of heaven shining down towards him… never mind that it drummed even worse pain into his skull, it was there, it was so close, he must reach that light… 

In desperation, he tried to lift a trembling arm, but it fell back limply… and his fingers brushed against something lying close beside him. He lay still for a while, watching as the light faded into shadows. Only when it was gone did he dare to move again. If he could not see, then he must feel something… It was a human hand. The only tangible thing in this horrible darkness. He touched it only gingerly at first and then wrapped his fingers around it. 

It was a small hand… a woman’s hand. And it was covered in something wet and sticky. Blood. Of course it would be blood. Surely this woman, whoever she was, was dead. Was there no one left but him? God have mercy, why could he not die? 

He tried so hard to focus on the things around him… sounds and feelings… but all he felt was pain, and all he heard was silence. There was nothing… nothing… on which he could pin reality, but that small hand that now lay in his. He clung to it a moment longer and then drew back, tracing his fingers over the shape of it. Something was wrong with that hand… it wasn’t just bloody, it was crushed. He could feel a ragged wound in it… a bullet hole, straight through the center of the palm. It chilled him to the bone and yet… he closed his fingers around the hand again… more gently this time, and yet clinging to it… as if it was the only thing in the world left to care about.

And at that moment, a memory flashed through his mind. Not a vague ghost with no attainable meaning to it, but a vivid scene that had played out before his eyes only the night before. Marius standing atop the barricade, his face illumined eerily in the flickering torch he held as he cried out his threat for all Paris to hear…

“Stand back! Or I blow the barricade!”

And a flash of something that had rushed past him. A slim, dark figure… a boy who had snatched the gun of a soldier, covering the muzzle with his hand merely a split second before the gun was fired, straight through the palm of the boy’s hand…

Only it wasn’t a boy. The cap had fallen from the dark head as she slumped to the ground… and long hair had cascaded around her shoulders as she cradled her wounded hand against her heart. The ball hadn’t gone through her hand alone, it had passed through her body… and she was dying. 

Enjolras knew her… he had seen her once before, standing in the street outside the Cafe Musain and staring longingly at Marius. For some reason he could not name, Enjolras had felt his heart stop beating at the sight of her. He hated the feeling. It was foreign to him and he scoffed at the thought of his head turning at a pretty face. He had a far greater purpose in life than something as foolish as a girl… and so he had forgotten her in the storm of revolution that was brewing, forgotten all but that tiny bit of something that had twisted its way into his steely heart and stubbornly remained.

Fool girl, she had died for love. She had wasted her love on Marius, for he never saw her in the light of anything but friendship. Loving him had she gone to the barricade and sacrificed her life so that he may go on living… and loving him she had used her dying strength to crawl towards him, her feeble voice gasping out his name. 

He had held her while she died… she had choked out some delirious words about the rain… it made the flowers grow… and she had slipped away before she even felt the gentle kiss Marius had given in pity. Enjolras had watched from his post behind the barricade… hating the single tear that betrayed him by streaking its way down his cheek. But he couldn’t help it. He pitied the poor girl… felt a kinship with her in that she had died for her lost cause… and soon he would die for his. 

One thing only could he do for her… and he gathered her body up to carry her away. She had slumped against him, so tiny and fragile in his arms, her head lolling lifelessly on his shoulder… and he felt that awful something stir in his heart again. He wished it wouldn’t… it caused pain that he didn’t want to feel. He had lain her down in a quiet place behind the barricades, but he hadn’t hurried back to his place. He had knelt beside her a long moment, his hand resting on her cheek… and before he knew what he was doing, he had stooped to press a kiss on her forehead. She deserved the kiss of a man who had not rejected her, didn’t she? Poor girl, to die without love…

And now he was lying beside her.

He had died too… hadn’t he? He remembered now… standing by the window, facing his executioners wearily as he clutched the flag he was dying for… he remembered how Grantaire had joined him in those last moments and they had died together… Enjolras had only a vague memory of falling… and then blackness…

Only he hadn’t died. Somehow he had lived. He couldn’t imagine how he had lived… and why? Why must he go on in this suffering when his revolution was over and his friends gone? He had led them into this, and he had meant to die for this cause…  had wanted to die. It was cruel… cruel to leave him alive. What had he left to live for?

It was then that the hand lying in his moved. Just slightly. He almost missed it… just the mere suggestion of movement… and it was still again. He moved his fingers upward to the wrist, pressing his thumb there, and felt the faintest flutter of a pulse. Was it possible…? How could she have lived, wounded as she was? But for that matter… there were eight bullet holes pierced through his body…

Some mysteries of life must go on forever unsolved. If for no other reason than that the pondering of it hurt too badly to go on. He had let it slip from his mind and sighed wearily as unconsciousness slowly crept over him again. It shut out the memories, one by one, and left nothing but the feeling of that tiny, broken hand in his.

oOo

Voices broke through the grey dawn of the June morning, shattering the deathly stillness behind the heaped rubble of the barricade. No one was living in that forsaken silent nightmare… there was nothing left but bodies lined neatly to one side… and others lying where they had fallen, with no one left to carry them away.

“It’s a sorry business, that’s what,” a soldier wiped soot and sweat from his face with his jacket sleeve. “Makes you almost guilty to see ‘em like this… they really did believe in their cause, y’know.”

“Oh, shut up, don’t let the captain hear you talk like that. We were only following orders.”

“Aye… well… let’s not argue the whole stupid thing over again. There’s been enough fighting for me. Let’s get these poor souls out of this wreck.”

“Shouldn’t we check for survivors?”

The feeble comment was met with wild laughter.

“In all this carnage? Do you seriously think any of them have survived?”

“I could have sworn I saw this one move…” and the soldier nudged the body of a young man with the toe of his boot. 

“Oh, he’s dead as a doornail,” an older man frowned. “You can scarce tell that jacket was meant to be red, it’s so covered in blood.” But he paused to look a bit harder at the body at his feet. The boy looked familiar… he had stood atop the barricade last night, hadn’t he… waving a flag in defiance for all Paris to see. He had looked like a lion that night, fierce with rage and burning for his cause of liberty… and now he looked so lost and vulnerable, lying pale and still as death, with his hand wrapped around the hand of the one next to him.

“Hey, this one’s a girl!” the man cried in surprise, bending to peer closer at the white face. “And a pretty girl too, poor little thing. I wonder why she’s here.”

“And there they lie, hand in hand,” another sighed. “She must have come to the barricades to be with him.”

“Died for love, poor girl.” The older man bent to lift the wrist of her free hand and turned to his comrades with wide eyes. “She’s alive. So’s the boy. Alive, but fading fast. We’d better get them out of here.”

oOo

The cart rattled past, bearing the bodies of the dead… side by side lay a young man in a red coat and a young woman in men’s clothing. He was clutching her hand in a death-grip, blood seeping through his fingers.

One of the women kneeling on the cobblestones looked up from her work, one hand shading her eyes. It was not the hand of a scrubbing woman, but one of the bourgeoisie. Overcome with her grief and scorning her husband’s calm acceptance, she had donned a maid’s dress and now she sat in the streets, scrubbing the blood of her son’s revolution away.

She watched as his body was carried by in the cart, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She had always dreamed that one day he would come home to her… but no. He would never come home again now. He was far, far away from her, and she would never be able to reach him again.

oOo

“That’s right, love, don’t try to move, just lie still,” the voice was a strange one to be speaking words of comfort… it was coarse and raspy, and yet the words came out gently enough. Eponine forced her eyes open, caught a blurred glimpse of an elderly woman wearing the simple habit of a nun, and let her eyes fall shut again. They hurt dreadfully and her head was pounding. 

“Now then, dear, a sip of water, and could you just try telling me your name?” the woman gently lifted the girl’s head as she held a glass to her lips. “Don’t strain yourself though, love, don’t speak if it hurts too much.”

Eponine did try to speak, but it wasn’t her name that came out.

“M… Marius…” she whispered, forcing her voice out although it hurt like fire. “H… he… he was… with me…” The bandaged hand shifted over the covers and her face twisted in pain.

“Marius, eh?” the woman laughed. “You don’t look like a Marius to me. What was your mother thinking when she named you?”

“I’m… I’m Eponine…” she faltered, gasping for breath. 

“Eponine. A lovely name.” The woman’s face crinkled into a kind smile. “My name is Sister Agatha.”

“Where… am I? Where… where is he? I… I wanted t… to die… with him…”

“If you mean the boy, he’s here too, in another room.  Not doing so well as you, though, I’m afraid. I don’t mean to alarm you, not in your condition, but I can’t lie to you… it’s not likely he’ll make it.” 

“He’s here…” Eponine muttered breathlessly. “He’s… dying?”

“Aw, you poor dear,” the woman shook her head sadly. “Don’t cry now, love. Just rest. Try to get your strength up. Tis a sad, sad thing that’s happened… another black mark to add to the sins of France. Aye, an’ you can be sure he loves you, child… when they found you, it was all they could do to take your hand from his.”

“Loves me…” Eponine whispered. In spite of the order, she  felt her eyes fill with tears. She was too bewildered and racked with pain to really think… but somehow she managed to whisper a prayer for the man lying in the next room. 

Still I say… there’s a way for us… She hadn’t believed those words when she had said them mere days ago… not truly believed them… but now… had he forgotten his Cosette to be with her? Strange how the thought of it didn’t fill her with wild hope. She only felt an odd sense of calm. Something was slipping away from her… but what it was, she could not say.

oOo

“The revolution… is not dead… the revolution… we must… must fight… it’s… it’s not over yet…”

The muttered ravings of a delirious man. The nurse on attendance, a timid young woman, only shook her head solemnly when the doctor came in. 

“He’s been going on like that for hours,” she cast a worried glance at the man who was tossing and turning on the bed in spite of the vicious wounds that had nearly torn him apart. 

The doctor sighed. “He was one of their leaders, I’ve heard. I’m certain the defeat lies heavy on his mind.”

“Sometimes he asks about the girl,” the nurse murmured.

“Ah. Good. Something else to keep his mind on. Poor, foolish boy. Revolutions are a bloody business. What have you told him of her?”

“That she is doing well.”

“Excellent. Perhaps it will help him to know she is recovering. A slow recovery, yes, but I believe the danger is past for her. Has she confirmed his name? No one else has been able to identify him. He speaks, but it is only in a fever, he will not answer any questions.”

“Not officially, monsieur,  she has not seen him since they were brought here. But she speaks of a Marius Pontmercy.”

“Marius Pontmercy, eh?” the doctor mused. “I’ve heard something of that name. I’ll look into it. And now let me see to my patient.” As he advanced to the bed, the man turned wild, fever-filled eyes towards him.

“The revolution…” he gasped out. “Let me go… I must fight.”

“The revolution is over, my boy,” the doctor said, not unkindly. “You must lie still.”

“And the others!” he cried. “We must rally again… where have they gone… Combeferre… Courfreyac… where have the others gone?” He pushed himself up desperately, fighting against the doctor’s restraining hand as his voice rose to a shout, tears spilling down his cheeks. His eyes were glassy and yet filled with a wild horror. “What have I done? Dear God, what have I done? They trusted me… Patria… forgive me!” 

“You need to keep still,” the doctor repeated, forcing him to lie back. Any more sudden movements like that and he would surely tear apart from the wounds that crisscrossed his body. “Can you tell me your name?”

“The girl,” the wounded man choked out the words. “Her hand was shattered… she wasted her life on him… wasted it, d’you hear me? He didn’t love her… and I… I…” his voice trailed off and he lay silent for a moment. The doctor pulled bandages stiff with dried blood away to check the bullet wounds trailed across the boy’s side.

“Nurse,” he spoke grimly as he worked to dress the wounds. “He’s regressing… this constant movement is no good for him. Try securing him to the bed, anything to keep him still. Even just a few days would do him a world of good. And as soon as the girl is able, let her see him. That would help him more than anything, I believe.”

oOo

When Eponine was told he had mentioned her,  nothing could hold her back. Although steadily recovering, she was weak and still in pain. But she stood on her own for the first time in many a long day when Sister Agatha told her she might see him.

“I… I must go to him,” she whispered, wavering as she struggled to her feet. “I can walk. Please.” 

And she was guided to his bedside. He lay still just then, sleeping at last as weariness overruled his tortured mind. Just a shadow then of the man he used to be, his face thin, almost translucent, and his eyes nearly sunken in. Eponine faltered as she moved towards him, leaning heavily on the nurse. For a long moment, she stood silently beside him, just staring down at him, her eyes confused.

“This… this is not Marius,” she whispered, a tear tracing its way down her cheek. But she reached out with her good hand, gently brushing back the tangled hair that fell over his forehead. “But I… I have seen him before. He was with Marius.”

Enjolras. She knew him the moment she saw him, for where he was, Marius was never far behind… and she had followed Marius. The fearless leader of Les Amis de l’ABC, the man she had seen a hundred times speaking on street corners, his passionate words kindling fires into the hearts of the people… and at the Cafe Musain poring over his endless plans for revolution… and standing atop the barricade, holding the flag high for all of Paris to see. 

“What is his name?” the nurse looked questioningly at her and Eponine opened her mouth to answer… but something held her back. Such a man as this… if the authorities knew he had survived…

“I… cannot say…” she paused to draw in a shaking breath and the nurse set her face in determination.

“You’re not well, my dear, let me get you back to bed.”

“No… no… not just yet…” Eponine gripped the edge of the bed as she sank slowly to her knees beside it. She lifted her hand to his face again and let it linger there, tracing her fingers against his cheek. “He… he carried me…” She frowned. She didn’t know what she was saying… and yet there was something there, tugging at the corners of her memory… something she had forgotten. “The rain… and… and blood…”

“She doesn’t know him,” the nurse whispered to the doctor, bewildered, as he quietly entered the room. “I mean, she does, but… she doesn’t know his name. She sounds almost a bit delirious right now, I wish you’d make her go back to bed.”

“Let her stay a while,” the doctor shook his head and advanced toward the girl, dropping his hand on her shoulder. “Pardon, mademoiselle, I know you had asked about a Marius Pontmercy.”

“I… I thought…” the girl looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

“I have news of him.” The doctor smiled sympathetically at her. “What is he to you, this Marius?”

Eponine’s eyes dropped and she turned her face away.

“I loved him.”

“Loved, eh?” the doctor’s voice grew more gentle yet. “I thought you might be glad to know that he is well now. A friend of mine, he is also a doctor… he cared for this Marius of yours… it seems he was also wounded at the barricades. He is making quite the miraculous recovery… not unlike you, my dear mademoiselle. He… he is to be married. To a Cosette le Mont.”

“I know it,” Eponine’s voice could barely be heard. She leaned forward until her head rested on the limp hand of the man before her. “He was never mine to love.”

“And you say you don’t know the name of this man?” 

“No.” Eponine choked back a sob. “If Marius lives… ask him. He knows. And don’t… don’t tell him I’m here. Let him think me dead.”

Marius was sent for that evening, and Eponine was later told he had recognized the mystery man as Enjolras. A fellow-student was all he would say… he remained silent about his friend’s role in the revolution, even when questioned. 

“Monsieur Pontmercy was overjoyed to see him,” Sister Agatha told Eponine that night. “He had thought him dead. But Enjolras was in a terrible fever, and the things he said didn’t make a bit of sense.”

“Marius… did he seem well?” Eponine faltered. “Did he seem happy?”

“He walked with a limp and had his arm in a sling. But yes… he did seem happy, and yet a bit sad. Like his eyes were haunted, if you know what I mean. Tis dreadful black days France has seen, you know, my dear girl. Every day I pray for God’s mercy on all these poor people.”

oOo

Somehow, Eponine could not find it in herself to be bitter towards Cosette. Although she felt it strange how the tide had turned… once, and long ago, she herself had been pampered, while Cosette had been made to work like a slave. Eponine had pitied her then… had not seen any sense in why a little girl like herself should be so abused. She had secretly prayed that one day, Cosette would be given her chance at happiness. But the scales had tipped too far… and Cosette had stolen the heart of the man that Eponine loved, with only one glance of her beautiful blue eyes. 

It had angered Eponine once… and when Marius declared to her his wild love for her rival, and when Cosette had given her a letter to take to Marius… reduced to a mere messenger between her rival and the man who would never love her! It had made Eponine’s blood boil. She had hidden the letter away and resolved to die with Marius. In death, he would be hers… Cosette could not take him away from her then… she would be triumphant at last!

Nary the slightest of regrets had filled her heart when she lay dying in Marius’s arms. For that one moment, in the gently-falling rain, with him close beside her… she had found happiness. And she had died there, she believed it. Eponine Thenardier, the girl who had loved Marius Pontmercy and been willing to sacrifice her life that he might live… she had died that night behind the barricade. And the woman who rose from the ashes of that miserable night was someone new and different. She had strangely felt little pain when she heard of Marius’s engagement to Cosette. Somehow that seemed so far away and long ago.

Days slipped by endlessly, never stopping… she wanted to hate the monotony of those days, and yet as she lay there staring at the ceiling, hour after hour, her mind spinning, she wondered at this deadly calm inside of her. And in the midst of it, an empty hole in her heart… as crippled as she knew her hand was.

She had refused to see Enjolras after that one morning, although Sister Agatha would often beg her to. “If you’re feeling strong enough, won’t you please, dear?” she would say. “He never says so, always going on and on about his dreadful revolution, but I think he needs you.” Eponine wanted to laugh at that. He didn’t even know who she was. But she thought of him often.Enjolras… it wasn’t a familiar name to her. And yet… she knew his face. It was with a strange sort of familiarity that somehow made her wonder if something had happened she had forgotten… they told her he had been holding her hand when they found them, lying side by side behind the barricade. 

She lifted her hand, trembling slightly as she unwrapped the bandages. She had not looked at it since the night it had happened… she had been too afraid. And so she had closed her eyes whenever the doctor attended to it. He had told her it was healing well… he was both shocked and thrilled that they hadn’t had to amputate. But even when the doctor urged her to look, she insisted on keeping it covered… she didn’t want to see it. And now she stared at it with a kind of horrified fascination, her eyes wide as she traced the hole in her palm, wincing at the touch on the sensitive skin. The bullet had left a twisted, disfigured scar in the center of her palm… she could almost see through it. She tried to move her fingers, biting down on her lip to hold back a whimper of pain. Her hand was ruined. And yet… she somehow didn’t even care. 

“Ah, my dear, sitting up and doing well, are you?” Sister Agatha stood in the doorway, beaming down on her. “How is your hand? Oh, you poor thing…” she moved briskly across the room and bent to wrap Eponine in a warm embrace. “Don’t feel too badly, love, you’ve still your pretty face. And I’m sure your young man won’t mind.”

“He’s not…” Eponine bit back a sigh. “How is he?”

“That’s why I came to get you, dear. He’s in a bad way today. I thought maybe you could help calm him. He gets quite wild at times.” She smiled sadly. “I’ve told the doctor, I don’t know but he won’t pull through, with the strength he’s got… at times, he fights anyone who tries to touch him. That’s not the strength of a dying man, I told the doctor. But he’s still badly hurt, dear. Please come and see him, won’t you?”

“Why should I?” Eponine scoffed. “He is nothing to me.” 

“Are you certain of that?” The sister chuckled. “Child, I don’t know anything about the mysterious two of you, but I’m sure of it that he loves you. Give him a chance.” 

“That’s silly,” Eponine whispered. “Who would love a wasted cast-off nobody like me?” But she slipped from the bed and followed Sister Agatha, not even pausing to wrap her hand again. She could hear him yelling even before the door was opened and she hung back a moment. What had she to do with this man? He was nothing but a stranger to her… she had no obligation to him. 

But he saw her standing there in the doorway and raised himself halfway up, his eyes tortured as he searched her face. How could they say he was dying? There was fire in him yet… raging fire. 

“It’s not over yet,” he hissed. “I tell you… it’s not over… the revolution… we will rise again…”

Eponine took a stumbling step forward as the sister nudged her from behind. As she moved closer, his face changed… from angry to bewildered… and then recognition began to dawn and he fell back, forming words with his lips, but not speaking them aloud. 

“The revolution is over,” she spoke forcibly as she stared down at him, her face void of expression. She was suddenly wanting to cry… but she would force it back somehow. “It died with all of us.” 

“It cannot die,” he murmured, shaking his head restlessly. “It is so much bigger than us mere mortals. The Republic, it is all that matters in this world… and I have failed it.”

“It only wasn’t meant to be.” Eponine knelt beside him. “Trust me. I know of things that aren’t meant to be.”

“You know nothing,” he spat out the words, his eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” He was whispering now, drawing in gasping breaths as if it was difficult for him to speak. She only shrugged.

“I’m nobody.” 

He smiled at that… just a crooked half-smile. She lifted her injured hand and lay it gingerly on his, forcing herself to look at her thin, twisted fingers. He pulled away… and then gently touched the gaping hole.

“You did that for him.”

Eponine swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were every moment threatening more to fall.

“I did it for love.”

“What is love but a distraction from the things that truly matter?” He scoffed, turning his face away. “It means nothing.”

“You are wrong.” Her voice grew firm and she drew herself up with all her strength, her eyes narrowed. “Love is everything. And if you would ever let it… it would touch even your stony heart.”

He turned back with such a ferocity that suddenly, Eponine was afraid of him. He looked angry… maybe he was. But Eponine continued on bravely, her voice rising.

“You claim not to understand love, but you lie. Wasn’t it for love of Patria that you were willing to give up your life? Why then can you not believe that love that strong can be felt in other ways?”

For a moment he glared at her, a thousand angry things filling his eyes… but then his face changed.

“This love you speak of,” he murmured, touching the bullet hole again. “If I ever was to know that sort of love, I would want it to be like that.” He picked her hand up, turning it over in his as he looked at it… and then closed his fingers around it, bringing their clasped hands to rest on his heart.

Eponine sighed… a weary little sigh… and bent her head till it touched his shoulder. Her hand had hurt badly these long weeks in hospital… a burning ache  that kept her from sleeping. But the way he held it, so gently, almost caressing… for the first time, she didn’t feel any pain. 

oOo

“And to go on fighting… it is treason.” It was a new voice that spoke and Eponine cried out in answer. Sister Agatha had been shoved aside and yet she rushed forward again as half a dozen soldiers entered the little room, trying in vain to push them back.

“This is a hospital… please, I beg of you…” her voice trembled with anger. “You cannot come in here like this, this is a place of sanctuary.”

“There is no sanctuary for the enemies of France,” Captain Beauvais stepped forward, brushing the sister away as if she were nothing. “I would advise you to leave this room, we have business with this man.”

“You…” Enjolras hissed, struggling to push himself up in bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to finish what I’ve started,” The captain spoke with conviction, but his eyes were sad. “Would that you had given it up when you had the chance. I have here a warrant,” he flourished the deadly paper with its royal seal. “It’s not for your arrest… but for your death. I was ordered to have you shot on sight…” He almost whispered the last words. “God forgive me, I must do my duty.”

“Then do it,” Enjolras’ voice was voice deadly calm. “You can kill me, but you can’t kill the spirit of the revolution. It will live on, long after I’m gone.”

“Can you walk?” Beauvais’ voice shook slightly, but he stood his ground. 

Eponine caught her breath in horror, her eyes darting from the trembling captain to the calm resignation written on Enjolras’ face. A quiet order from the captain sent a soldier to the bedside, but Enjolras shoved him aside, scorning the offered assistance. He dragged himself from the bed and stood to face his enemy, his head thrown back in defiance, although he pressed his hand against his wounded side, gritting his teeth to hide his pain. The captain nodded and turned to give orders to his men.

Eponine had risen to stand beside Enjolras, thrusting her crippled hand into his. He didn’t look at her, his gaze pinned steadily on the captain… but he curled his fingers around hers and didn’t let go, not even when the soldiers fell in around him to march him out of the building. 

The condemned man was taken to an alley behind the hospital. It was a pitiful scene, the way he leaned heavily against the brick wall of the building behind him, struggling to stay upright and hide the pain as he faced a full firing squad. The soldiers hesitated, ashamed at the thought of executing someone already so wounded. And the girl… she stood stubbornly at his side, her face white but her chin lifted in the same spirit of defiance, her eyes shooting angry sparks at the lot of them. It was unnerving somehow, and the soldiers seemed to back away.

“Send the girl away,” the captain ordered and Eponine only moved closer to Enjolras, pressing her head against his shoulder, as if daring them to tear her away.

“Go on, get out of here, Eponine,” Enjolras muttered, his eyes fixed on the captain’s face. 

“I won’t leave you,” Eponine spat the words out angrily. The captain shook his head.

“Then stand aside.”

Eponine drew a ragged, gasping breath. Her mind was spinning… and she couldn’t quite distinguish the spoken words from the roar in her head… Enjolras was suddenly gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt horribly.

“If you kill him,” she spoke dizzily through a haze of fear and confusion, “You’ll have to kill me too.” She turned, hiding her face against his shoulder, waiting. She could feel a firm hand on her arm, pulling her back, and she fought it, struggling with all the feeble strength left in her body. 

But the sound of the captain’s pistol clattering to the cobblestones stunned her into stillness. He was ordering his men away… and they were letting her go. The captain was staring at Enjolras as if terrified.

“I can’t do it, old friend,” he whispered, looking away. Enjolras made no answer. Eponine had returned to stand beside him and she could feel him wavering. His breathing was suddenly shallow and uneven and he pressed a hand against the wall behind him as if trying to find support. Alarmed, she reached out to slip her arm around his waist, knowing she could never support his weight if he went down, but desperate to at least try. 

“The law must be upheld,” the captain spoke again, as if arguing with himself. “I can’t let you go free.”

“So shoot me,” Enjolras snarled at him, stifling a groan. “Coward.” 

But the captain made no move to retrieve his fallen gun. 

“I am sworn to follow justice, but some things stretch a man’s limit too far. I refuse to kill a helpless and wounded man without a trial.” The captain’s voice rose, gaining conviction. “I will bring this matter before the court.”

Sister Agatha met them breathlessly at the doorway, tears sliding down her cheeks when she saw Enjolras. He had refused help from the soldiers but he was leaning heavily on Eponine. The sister ushered them inside quickly and stood in the door as if to forbid the soldiers to enter. A quiet order from the captain and his men stepped back, the captain alone following Enjolras inside.

Under Eponine’s steady glare, the captain slipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt, snapping one cuff around Enjolras’s wrist, and locking the other to the bedframe.

“I’ll try to get your sentence reduced. Prison time, instead of death. But that’s all I can do for you. You see… when you get involved in this madness, you throw your life away.”

“And yet, at the end of the day, it is I who have truly lived, and you are dead!” Enjolras cried as the captain retreated from the room.

oOo

CUT 

Cosette insisted Eponine stay till Marius returned from Toulon. She had a stubborn streak in her, and she kept on insisting, no matter how Eponine argued. But it didn’t matter… Eponine had her pride. 

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head. “I don’t live in the same world as you.” And she had slipped away into the streets. But every day, faithfully, she would come to the back door of Cosette’s home to ask for news from Toulon.

“I have had a letter from Marius,” Cosette cried eagerly, one morning more than a week after Marius had gone. “He has arrived safely in Toulon, he has been making inquiries. He promises to write anytime there is news.”

And a few days afterwards, Cosette reported that Marius had seen Enjolras. Eponine felt her hope growing then. Cosette spoke of legal matters that neither girl understood, of important officials who had been contacted, of letters sent… and finally of a reopening of the case.

“He’s done it, Eponine, he’s brought the case back to trial,” Cosette came running down the garden path that morning to meet Eponine. “There is hope yet. Listen, he says that Enjolras is the only son of a wealthy family, French nobility. It seems that his family disowned him when he denounced his heritage and moved to Paris to take part in the rebellion. Marius has been in contact with them, and they are willing to help.”

The days dragged more than ever, each new period between letters seeming more unendurable than the last. Eponine had taken to fairly haunting the Pontmercy estate. And then came the day that Marius wrote to say he was returning home… and Enjolras was coming with him.

“He’s on parole,” Marius had said. “We managed to buy off his sentence, but only on one condition… that he leave France. He’s not taking it well, but he is glad to be leaving Toulon. Thank God we managed this much success. Toulon is a horrible place, dear Cosette, it breaks my heart to think of anyone being there.”

“My poor Papa spent nineteen years in Toulon,” Cosette told Eponine with tears in her eyes. But Eponine had heard nothing after those magical words… Enjolras is free. 

oOo

“They’re getting on well, the two of them,” Sister Agatha told the doctor proudly, with all the air of a true matchmaker. “Something about being with her, it calms him… and he comforts her. Does my heart good to see it.” She nodded through the open doorway where Eponine was again with Enjolras… as she had been, day after day. They didn’t often speak… just stayed there together, she sitting at his bedside while he clung to her crippled hand. 

“Well…” the doctor sighed, worry flickering in his eyes. “I’ve come with a warning. It seems that this Enjolras was the chief leader of the revolution, and word is getting around that he’s still alive. They want his life.”

Horror filled Madame’s face.

“Why surely you can’t mean…” her voice swiftly turned angry. “They would kill the poor boy, and after all we’ve done bringing him back to life again?”

“I’m afraid so. They say they won’t even bother with a trial, there are those under orders to shoot him on sight. I’d hide him, if there was any way of… I mean… they’d kill us for it, if we sheltered him. He’s getting stronger though, perhaps it would be best to tell him of the danger and let him go.”

“Not on your life are you letting him go,” The sister’s eyes narrowed. “He needs more time to recover. You’ll ruin all the progress we’ve made, Eponine and I. He wanted to die, I tell you, still does… it’s that girl, she’s the only one who can make him stop talking about death and revolutions. If he finds they’re after him, he’ll just wait for them to come and kill him.”

“Young fool,” the doctor growled. “If he cares that little for his life, maybe we should leave things as they are.”

“I’m an old woman now, and life here is not so dear to me that I would betray that boy to the authorities. We’ll hide him, and I’ll take the blame.” She put her hands on her hips and raised her chin in defiance. She was a short, stout little woman with a shriveled, wrinkled face, but she looked just as fierce as the young revolutionaries had when they stood atop the barricade and waited their doom.

“What are they whispering about out there?” Enjolras turned his head toward the door, raising a critical eyebrow. “Anything going on that I don’t know about?”

“They’re probably planning to kick you out into the streets, you and all your complaining,” Eponine smirked. 

“It’s a conspiracy,” he glared. “I’m perfectly capable to be leaving.”

“And do what?” Eponine pulled her hand from his grasp and looked at him solemnly. “Start another revolution?”

He grit his teeth, hands clenching into fists. 

“As long as I’m living, I’ll fight this tyranny… I’ll fight it to my last breath and then may my spirit go on fighting.”

“It’s a dreadful way to live, only forever fighting,” Eponine answered softly. 

“And to go on fighting… it is treason.” It was a new voice that spoke and Eponine cried out in answer. Madame had been shoved aside and yet she rushed forward again as half a dozen soldiers entered the little room, trying in vain to push them back.

“This is a hospital… please, I beg of you…” her voice trembled with anger. “You cannot come in here like this, this is a place of sanctuary.”

“There is no sanctuary for the enemies of France,” Captain Beauvais stepped forward, brushing Madame away as if she were nothing. “Madame, I would advise you to leave this room, we have business with this man.”

“You…” Enjolras hissed, struggling to push himself up in bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to finish what I’ve started,” The captain spoke with conviction, but his eyes were sad. “Would that you had given it up when you had the chance.”

Eponine rose to her feet, but she did not leave Enjolras’s side, not even when the captain ordered her to. She had seized his hand again, holding it tightly as if daring them to tear her away.

“I have here a warrant,” the captain held a paper in his fist, shaking it threateningly in the air. “It’s not for your arrest… but for your death. You are wanted dead and… God forgive me, I must do my duty.”

“Then do it,” Enjolras snapped, pushing himself up farther. “Do it! You coward, to kill a man in cold blood when he has no way of defending himself. But you’ve done this before, so do it again, and finish me. You can kill me, Beauvais, but you can’t kill the spirit of the revolution.” 

“Send the girl out,” Beauvais’ voice trembled slightly, but he stood his ground. 

“Go on, get out of here, Eponine,” Enjolras muttered, his eyes fixed on the captain’s face. 

“I won’t leave you,” Eponine spat the words out angrily. The captain shook his head.

“Then stand aside.”

Eponine made a move as if to back away… she hesitated… and then stood still, raising her chin defiantly. The warrant was read, the sentence pronounced… they were under orders to shoot him on sight, the evidence being clear… and there, in the hospital room, a firing squad was assembled, moving at the captain’s orders. 

Eponine drew a ragged, gasping breath… the captain was shouting something, she couldn’t quite distinguish the words from the roar in her head… Enjolras was suddenly gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt horribly… and in one awful moment, she knew that she couldn’t let him die…

“Halt!” The captain cried out. “Hold a moment… hold your fire…” 

Eponine had thrown her body across the doomed man, her arms around his shoulders, her cheek pressed against his as she glared up at the soldiers. 

“If you kill him, you’ll have to kill me first.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with a stunned silence. The soldiers stood as if paralyzed, the captain’s face white. Eponine hid her face against Enjolras’s shoulder and waited, her heart heavy with dread. She knew she was no match for half a dozen soldiers. And Enjolras closed his eyes in effort to hide his tears… but they fell anyway. 

The captain’s pistol clattered to the floor as he ordered his men away. 

“I can’t do it, old friend,” he whispered, looking away. Enjolras made no answer. 

“Who is she?” Something of authority returned to his voice and Enjolras slung a protective arm around the trembling girl pressed close against him. It hurt, the weight of her body against his wounds… and yet he didn’t care.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her. She has nothing to do with the revolution. Nothing, do you hear me?”

The captain shook his head slowly.

“I won’t hurt her. But… the law must be upheld. I can’t let you go free.” 

“So shoot me,” Enjolras snarled at him, ignoring Eponine’s muttered protests. “Coward.” 

But the captain made no move to retrieve his fallen gun. He only slipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt, snapping one cuff around Enjolras’s wrist, and locking the other to the bedframe.

“I’ll try to get your sentence reduced. Prison time, instead of death. But that’s all I can do for you. You see… when you get involved in this madness, you throw your life away.”

“And yet, at the end of the day, it is I who have truly lived, and you are dead!” Enjolras cried as the captain retreated from the room.