This is just some fluffy little sort of song-fic that came to me at 2 AM the other night and held me down until I was forced to write it. I rarely write like this anymore, but something about Eponine's tragic life makes me crave fluff. In any case, I own nothing, as is my lot in life.
I heard that you've settled down, that you found a girl and you're married now.
I heard that your dreams came true. Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.
It was like being in a dream. Seeing him again. Except that Cosette was there beside him, clinging to his arm and not looking a day older than she had when Eponine had last seen her. If it was truly a dream, it would just be her and him walking the streets of Paris, just as it had always been. She had thought that she had left that life far behind her. The time in her life with him in it had become some sort of far off fantasy in her mind, a time of intense turmoil and pain and yet also the most passionate and careless happiness she had ever felt. She had been so young then, even though she had felt like she knew everything. She hadn't been young in a very long time.
Her bones ached when it rained now. The doctor, bless his soul, that had found her and several other revolutionaries from the battle greatly wounded but not yet dead, and had had the decency to take them in and care for them, had told her that her shoulder would probably never be quite the same as it had been. She had lost a lot of blood but one of the medical students, perhaps Joly, had managed to tie a tourniquet before heading back into the battle. The doctor had found her not long after and had come back for more after she was out of harm's way. Ten years had passed since and so far her shoulder had been near to useless, true to his word.
It turned out that Marius and Cosette (and two little children clinging to their mother's skirts) were passing through Montreuil-sur-Mer as Cosette attempted to come to terms with the truth about her mother and adopted father's past. Apparently the small city was where her mother had lived and where she had been born. Odd coincidence that it would be the same town where Eponine chose to make her new life after the barricades fell. She knew better than to dwell on it though. Fate often appeared to have odd designs on her life.
Such as the doctor who saved her having recently had a daughter about Eponine's age pass from influenza so strong that even he could not keep it at bay. After he had cured her and most of the revolutionaries had gone back to attempt to reclaim what shambles of a life was left to them, he had offered to take her in permanently, as a sort of indentured servant, apprentice, and possibly also a surrogate daughter. She jumped at the chance and never looked back at her old life.
And so she lived and worked with the doctor and his wife for several years before she had enough meat on her bones and money in her pocket to strike out on her own. She probably would've been content enough to stay with the lovely couple until they got sick of her or passed on, but the other revolutionary they had taken in had other plans, as always. Not even six bullets could stop Enjolras, the passionate and steadfast leader of the revolution. The doctor was stumped as to how he possibly could have survived such injuries. Eponine always said he was simply too stubborn to die. Enjolras countered that his work was not yet finished and he could never stand to see undone work.
About a year after the barricade fell, he told her that he saw her smiling face at one point through his feverous haze and it brought him the strength he needed to keep fighting. Six months later, she told him that he was the only reason she had not taken her life after the doctor had nursed her back to health. For weeks, she had been consumed with the thought that a life without Marius was not one worth living, and she would've been better off dying at the barricade for him. But Enjolras had somehow changed her mind, however unintentionally.
Enjolras would never be Marius. But as she got to know him in those weeks that he took to truly heal from his wounds, when she spent nearly every waking moment caring for him, she realized that he was very much like Marius. He was handsome and kind and would never look down on her because of the circumstances she had come from. In some ways, she now reflected, he was probably an even better match for her than Marius would have ever been. He had a stubborn streak to match hers, and he was a far more passionate man (about both the cause and other things, as she would later discover) than Marius had ever been.
She would never stop loving Marius, but she realized that her heart was quite possibly capable of loving another just the same. It took her several years to admit it even to herself, let alone the object of her affections, but she did eventually come to accept that both life, and she, would move on. And, unlike with Marius, when she finally worked up the courage to tell him, she found that she had somehow worked her way into Enjolras' heart as well. From hell came paradise that she had never thought she would receive.
After several years of disguises and false identities, Enjolras had finally had enough of Paris and declared at the dinner table one night that he was going to leave. Of course, she had been distraught at the thought of losing him, having finally come to terms with the fact that she was in love with the kind yet cold man. Never thinking that anyone could think of her in such a way, she had been shocked when he had near to begged her to come with him later that night. So shocked, in fact, that she had finally blurted out the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for ages.
His lips had crashed to hers in a moment she would later remember as being of epic proportions. It wasn't long before they were both swept away by the passion and tension that had remained unresolved between them for what felt like forever. The next morning, she woke up to his smiling face and she knew that she had made the right choice. And she had felt that way every morning since.
They had moved to Montreuil-sur-Mer with the last of the money Enjolras could gain access to discreetly and purchased a small inn for themselves. It was cozy and they ran it fairly and kindly and so made more than enough to be supported comfortably. It was not the high life Enjolras was used to but it was also not the slums Eponine had grown accustomed to. It was some sort of a perfect compromise between both of their lives and they both were more than happy to have found it and each other.
And then, as usual, Marius had to come along and ruin everything. Eponine couldn't say that she had been happy with her life before she had met Marius, but sometimes she felt she would have been better off without the pain he had caused her in her youth. And now here he was again, messing everything up just when she had found some sort of happiness. She had been going to tell Enjolras the happiest news of her life on the night that Marius stopped by their inn.
One look from him had sent her right back to her sixteen-year old self, pining and moping after him, and she couldn't even think of telling Enjolras anything for fear that that would once and for all seal her fate as one without Marius. The two weeks he and Cosette stayed at the inn were quite possibly the worst of her entire life, and that counted the years she had lived on the street. She felt more torn than she ever had before, and she was pretty sure that Enjolras knew and was extremely hurt by it.
Finally, it came to be his last night at the inn and she knew it was now or never. Whatever things she wanted to say to him (and she wasn't even entirely sure what they were) she had to say now, or forever be haunted by what might have been. As luck would have it, he asked her to show him around her gardens just before sunset. As they strolled among her many beautiful annuals, she finally found the words. They were not, however, the words she expected.
"We were so young," she had said. "Back when the barricades fell. It feels like a lifetime ago."
"Tell me about it. I'm a father now. Imagine, me, Marius Montmercy, a father!" he had answered, laughing a little in his amazement.
"I loved you, you know. Way back when. Kind of tragic, isn't it?" she had near to whispered. The truth had finally strangled its way past her lips.
He had looked sad then. Sad and wistful. "I know," he had said simply. "I always knew. Had things been different…had I not met Cosette…had I been able to see you the way you are now, before everything…"
She had been shocked, of course. She had always thought, just like everyone, that Marius was simply too blind to notice her affections. But clearly he had, somehow. And then twisted them to his advantage every chance he got.
"Perhaps," she had said, feeling rather hollow, "The past is better left where it belongs. In our memories, and nowhere else."
He had nodded sharply, suddenly, saying, "It is better that way. Bittersweet is not a taste I am particularly fond of." She had looked at him then, really looked at him for the first time since he had come to the inn two weeks before. Despite what she had thought, he was not the man she had loved. Age was beginning to show, and his features reflected worry and anger that had not been there before. He was not the blindly optimistic and kind man that he had been. War and time had changed him. Maybe not for the worse or better, but it had changed him nonetheless.
She had suddenly realized then why she felt hollow. It was not pain. On the contrary, actually, it was a strange lightness. She had always thought that Enjolras would have to make do with half of her heart, would have to share it with the part that would always and forever love Marius. But seeing him again, getting closure on the events of her youth, had done her more good than she ever would've imagined. Her heart no longer belonged to him, and probably had not for a very long time. Without this meeting, though, she probably would never have realized.
She was finally free of Marius Pontmercy. She had smiled at him, and he smiled back. All was forgiven and forgotten, as it should have been a long time before. He had turned to go then, as it seemed that all that needed to be said had been. But she had called him back, realizing that there was one last thing she needed to share before he walked out of her life forever.
"I just want you to know…that I wish you the best. In everything. Truly," she had said, so quietly she was not sure that his retreating figure would catch it. She had almost been surprised when he had turned back to her, his smile more genuine than she had yet seen it.
"And I, you, my dearest Eponine," he had responded.
"Don't forget me," she had cried, as he had turned to go again, wincing as it came out almost like begging.
"I'll remember. I don't know if I could ever forget," he had called back over his shoulder. And then he was gone. She had sat in the garden for a long time after that, simply attempting to accept this new world where she was no longer attached to Marius. It was unsettling, but also comforting at the same time.
After a long while, Enjolras had come outside and sat beside her. "So, you're not going to run off with his high and mightiness after all?" he had queried. It sounded like a jest, but she could hear the underlying jealousy and anxiety beneath his words.
She couldn't contain the huge smile that had spread across her face. She could finally be Enjolras' rightly and truly alone. No other man had a hold on her. And of course, he had looked utterly confused by the pure joy that was gracing her face for the first time in weeks.
"Or…perhaps I am…mistaken?" he had asked even more quietly, the hurt he clearly felt finally seeping into his voice. She could not keep herself from near to throwing herself at him in that instant and kissing away all his doubts and fears. It was not often that she saw her marble-like husband show signs of vulnerability. Then again, he always said she was his only weakness.
"I am happy because of you, silly. Always because of you. Never doubt that. I have finally realized that you are, and always have been, the only man for me. I was such a blind, foolish girl to never see what was in front of me. I was so distracted by the stars that I nearly missed the far more beautiful moon that was sitting right beside them. He was once a pretty distraction, but you are my love, my one and only. I know I don't often say these things, but you must know that I always feel them. After all," she had said, trailing off with a sly smile. "I wouldn't want our future son or daughter to think their father doubted me."
The light that broke out across his face then was the most mesmerizing and beautiful thing she had ever seen. How could she have ever thought of anyone besides this man?
"I love you, my dearest 'Ponine," he had whispered as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. "I will not ever be able to express how much happiness you bring to me. I would never doubt you, but simply always fear that fate will decide I have things too good and will come to take it all away from me again."
"I will always be with you, 'Jolras, to hell with the fates and their design. Besides, I think we have both more than paid our dues at the barricades all those years ago," she had said, cupping his face in her hands and wiping away the few tears that dared to mar his perfect visage.
"I would go to Hades and back again if it meant that I got to keep you by my side forever," he had said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She had smiled coyly at him. "I certainly don't think I'll be letting you do anything so crazy again anytime soon. I think revolutions are best left to the young and free," she had said.
"Aren't we young and free anymore?" he had asked wistfully.
"I'm afraid we haven't been young in a very long time, dear husband, and we will only get older from here," she had said, smiling sadly.
"We will teach them, our children, all children, about justice and right and humanity, then. They will carry on the torch of liberty and equality when we no longer can," he had said suddenly. She could see the passion for the cause, so long absent from his eyes, rekindling. He had found his purpose once again.
"You sound like the boy I knew once who used to stand on tables delivering impassioned speeches to the people. Perhaps you haven't lost your revolutionary ways just yet," she had said playfully.
"Let us hope that we never do. The past cannot be forgotten. We must simply learn from our mistakes, and hope that we can do more good because of them in the future," he had whispered. Her thoughts touched on Marius for a moment, but not in the way they had before, in desperation and love and shame. Now it was like the way Marius had smiled at her, sad and wistful, but not with regret. She had found someone like her Marius, better than Marius, and she knew better than to let him go. That much, at least, she had learned from her mistakes.
They had sat together in the garden that night for a very long time, and many times after that. They had named their first son Gavroche. All the dreams that Eponine had ever dared to dream all on her own came true with the one man she would have least expected.
Never mind, I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you, too.
Don't forget me, I begged. I'll remember, you said.
Sometimes you last in love but sometimes it hurts instead.