These are all the oneshots I've been posting for special occasions compressed into one fic. They are otherwise unchanged.

A/N: OK, people, to celebrate my first Christmas as a Mizzie, I cooked up a little something. I seem to have neglected one of my favourite pairings, so here we have a fluffy E/R piece, twoshot, but will probably be quite long, because I ramble. And, just in case anyone as sad as I am actually looks it up, the Little Match Girl was written in 1848, I just wanted to use the reference. I don't own it or Les Mis.

24 December 1832

Grantaire

It had been little over six months since the barricades. We'd all made it out alive, but you'd never be able to tell. I hadn't seen a single one of them since June. I'd tried not to let Apollo slip away, but he'd gone almost instantly, dragged off to run the country. He'd done some brilliant things, not that I'd expected any less.

But the others had disappeared as well, no word of warning or explanation. I heard something of their successes, but none of them had contacted me personally.

So now it was Christmas Eve. The snow was falling thick and fast, almost six inches deep. I was sat in some seedy bar, an untouched glass of absinthe before me. I didn't need it, I was already drunk on despair. Drinking now, breaking six months of sobriety when Apollo wasn't around, meant I'd picked the drink over him, something I swore I'd never do. I was completely alone.

Perhaps things were the way they should be, and the universe was at rights. Apollo's Patria had rewarded him for saving her, and he was happy and comfortable, set for life. The others would be perfectly satisfied. And then I was here, wasting my life. I doubted I'd see another Christmas. I doubted I'd want to.

I toyed with the glass. Apollo would never know. I could drink myself into oblivion and freeze to death in some alleyway. I wouldn't really mind. It would be like that little girl in the Danish fairytale that Jehan was so fond of. Instead of seeing my dead grandmother, I'd see my lost friends.

I glanced out into the street, watching happy little families out on the street. There was only one man on his own, head bent against the wind and snow, a scarf wrapped around his neck. A familiar scarf. One I'd bought Apollo last Christmas. Now I looked, the young man was blonde, but it couldn't be Apollo. It was my subconcious either trying to taunt or comfort me.

Apollo had loved Christmas. The idea of the winter wiping the slate clean and letting him start again completely fascinated him. It was the one time of year that he'd been happy to show he was truly human, to relax and have fun, and admit that he was still young. And I'd watched him, had hope that he wouldn't see fit to get himself killed, whilst he had the same hopes for me.

Even though I knew it coudn't be true, I abandoned the absinthe and ran out into the street. The bright red scarf and gold hair were a beacon in the monochrome landscape, and I chased the young man. "Apollo!"

He stopped and turned, and I caught a flash of bright blue. It was really him. My God, it was him, my Apollo, a man I thought I'd never see again. His eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushed with the cold. I walked towards him, still barely believing it was him. When he was a foot away from me, he threw his arms round my neck.

"Is that really you, R?" I hugged him back, not sure how this could really be happening. I was a little taller than him, so his head nestled against my shoulder. His ridiculously long hair was damp from the snow, his slender form surprisingly warm against me. "God almighty, I've missed you."

"Me?"

"Of course. I've missed you all."

"You hated me." He pulled away from me, looking hurt and bewildered.

"How on earth could you think that? I cared for you as much as ayone else. I had to be harsh to make you see. I was worried that you were going to destroy yourself."

"It worked. I haven't touched a drop since June. I've got no-one to watch over me anymore." He sighed, bowing his head, looking crushingly vulnerable. This wasn't how I remembered him.

"I know the feeling. I never know if I'm doing the right thing. In the past, Combeferre always told me when I was going too far, or you pointed out the flaws in my plans. It's scary when everyone relies on you, and there's no-one to guide you."

"I guess we've all parted ways."

"I hear from them every now and again, but it's not the same. I wish I could see everyone, just for them to reassure me that I'm doing alright."

I couldn't stand it. It was the first time I'd seen Apollo in six months, and he was just as lost and afraid and alone as I was. It was unbearable, and I had to cheer him up. "Ah, mon cher Apollo, it's not all bad. We may have been alone, but we've found company in one another. And it's Christmas. Paris is beautiful on Christmas night. Come on, I'll show you."

That prompted a smile, and I took hold of his hand to lead him away from the dark streets. "Your hands are freezing. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Not really. I don't really the notice the cold." I smiled. Of course. Why would the god of the sun feel cold? We were walking away from the darker part of the city where I'd been for the last half a year, and more towards the centre. It was brighter here, but not enough. The streetlights obscured the stars.

"So, how did the president elect of France end up in the slums of Paris?"

"I was heading home from a meeting." He was working on Christmas Eve? I didn't envy the poor boy, not at all.

"On your own? There's still trouble around, I'm surprised you're ever left alone."

"I'm not, usually. I slipped the leash. I just wanted to breathe. Christmas was the time we all felt free." Not sure where else to take Enjolras, I headed towards the Jardins du Luxembourg. Everything was pure white. The trees were frosted, snow thick on the ground, the lake frozen solid. The Jardins had been Jehan's favourite place, and he'd dragged us all out there more than once.

"It's beautiful," Enjolras said, eyes wide with wonder. He was like a little boy. I hung back as he looked around. I'd missed this. It was rare that I made Apollo happy, but just to see him smile was brilliant. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice what Apollo was doing until something cold hit my face.

He gave a crystalline laugh as snow dripped from my face. I wiped my face, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you're a fool, Apollo. You're facing off a boxer."

"Nice thought, but I've been fencing since I could hold a foil. There's no way you can catch me."

That was a challenge if ever I heard one, and I took it up enthusiastically. Neither of us were quite as untouchable as we claimed, and were about evenly matched in skill. Before long, we were sprawled on the floor, sopping wet, laughing. Tiny white snowflakes clung to Enjolras's hair, eyes glittering as they reflected the moon and stars up above.

He wasn't Apollo. A god of the sun couldn't be so happy in the cold and dark. He was an angel though, my light in the darkness, my guide in the dawn. How had I coped without him?

More daring than usual, I reached out and took his hand in mine. "I've missed you so much. I never had faith, but I never needed it if I could see you."

"And you were my anchor. I did care about you. I tried to pull you back up. I didn't think you cared. I heard the jokes and the comments. I thought that that was all you thought of me."

And now I thought about it, he had tried to help. He gave me a thousand and one opportunities to make everything better, and I'd ruined them all. No wonder he thought I didn't care. "Oh, as brilliant as you are, you're oblivious. The others were sick to death of me waxing lyrical about you. I adored you." I turned to face him, rather awkwardly since we were both lying on the ground still. His eyes shined with hope and love, that I couldn't believe was directed at me.

Tentatively, inexpertly, I leaned forward and gently kissed him. His lips were soft and cool, and rather than pulling away, he leaned in and mirrored my movement, just as inexperienced but much more graceful than me. "Je t'aime," I murmured, barely audible. He laughed sweetly and returned the sentiment. I could have had all this so long ago if I hadn't been so foolish. I wondered if I was dreaming. Angels didn't come to people like me.

The feel of snow on my back, the taste of Enjolras still on my lips told me otherwise. This was real. And since he had completed my life, I had to prove that I wasn't just a burden. And I knew exactly what to do.

"I've got to go. Meet me here tomorrow at six o'clock. I'm going to make this the greatest Christmas you've ever had. I promise."

A/N: Second part of this, from Enjolras's point of view, will be posted on Christmas Eve, because I reckon it will take that long to finish.