So hey, I'm back! Did you miss me? The title is a quote from Pride and Prejudice. I've nothing more to say other than this is a slightly Au Les Mis fic mainly inspired by a hellofalot of 'what ifs' (Moviverse mostly, with extra added from what I've read), will be shipping Enjolras/Éponine, so if you no likey, usey the backy buttony welly.
The bruises were beginning to bloom. Blue, brown, even patches of yellow, blossoming around welts and scars on her arms. Éponine was used to it. Her father, Montparnasse and the other gang members beat her and 'Zelma regularly. 'And yet I still feel the pain,' she thought ruefully. Silver tear tracks cleared away a path through the grime on her face.
A soft knock on the door. "It's Azelma," Éponine's sister whispered through a crack. Éponine pushed herself up from where she had been curled on the floor, and sat against the wall. "Come in."
Azelma backed into the dark bedroom, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a cloth. "I've brought something t'clean you up," she said. Éponine groaned with the effort of shifting her body. Azelma knelt beside her, and began dabbing at the bleeding cuts with the warm water. "What did they do to you?" she asked quietly.
"Just beating. I don't know why. 'Zelma, I wish I could just leave. I wish I was brave like Gavroche. But I'm not."
"Don't blame yourself. Gavroche had it much worse than either of us. Turn over."
"I know... But what if they decided to do worse than the beatings? I've heard Papa talking to Montparnasse..." Éponine sounded worried.
"Knowing you 'Ponine, you wouldn't let that happen," Azelma tried to point out the brighter side.
Éponine attempted a smile which turned out more like a grimace. "And they'd just let me be? I doubt that's likely."
Azelma stopped speaking and dabbed in silence. After a while Éponine struggled up.
"Where are you going?" Azelma steadied her sister.
"I don't know. Nowhere. Anywhere. Just away from here for a while."
Azelma nodded, understanding her sister's need to escape. "Take my shawl." She was offering the only good piece of clothing she owned. Normally Éponine would have protested against such an offer, but she was too exhausted, too grateful to refuse. "Thank you."
Rain pattered around Éponine as she shuffled through the streets, a constant tattoo, which was comforting in an odd way. She found her feet taking her down the familiar paths that led to the Café Musain, paths she had taken many times before. It was the meeting place of a group of students. A group of students who planned to lead a revolution and create a better France. Her little brother Gavroche idolized them, and she had talked to them once before. Except Marius. Her heart did a little dance whenever she saw him, and following him everywhere earned her her nickname of 'Marius' shadow'. They talked often and she had long accepted that he didn't see her that way. But it still hurt her when he raved about Cosette, his lovely little Cosette, pretty Cosette, perfect Cosette. The Cosette she had teased as a child, been friends with as a child. Yet Éponine couldn't bring herself to hate the Lark. Cosette's name alone brought a radiant smile to Marius' face, a rare and enjoyable sight to Éponine.
The hum of chatter that came from the Café alerted Éponine to her location. She pulled the shawl over her head and slipped inside, keeping to the walls so she wouldn't be noticed.
The group of students known as Les Amis de l'ABC were gathered in the back room of the Café Musain, drinking and talking. Grantaire was, as per usual, the most drunk of them all, but miraculously still managed to stay awake and reasonably alert. Enjolras, their leader, wasn't giving one of his passionate speeches about Patria today. No, instead he was sat in a corner, reading through a book while he tried to block out the rest of the noise. Especially Marius sitting in front of him, going on about Cosette's hands. Her hands for goodness sake! He was completely and utterly besotted with a girl he had only recently met. Enjolras was the only one of Les Amis who didn't let his life revolve around women. Patria was his one mistress, and he was perfectly content.
A small figure shuffled through the door. She had a shawl covering her head, but as Courfeyrac and Grantaire hurried over to greet her, their arms wrapped protectively around her, Enjolras realised that it was that Thérnadier girl. The one who always followed Marius around. What was her name?... Éponine. He didn't know her, really. They had never spoken because there had never been reason to. He didn't have any opinion of her. But he knew she would soon approach his corner, to talk to Marius. That was the only reason she came to the Café. 'She isn't in anyway interested in the Revolution,' he mused. Even he, Antoine Enjolras, who wasn't known for his awareness of human emotion, could tell that the girl was hopelessly in love with Marius.
"And they are long and graceful. White as lilies and delicate as rose petals…" Marius was still going on about Cosette.
"Marius, I appreciate your description, but look," he pointed at Éponine, walking towards them.
"Éponine!" Marius exclaimed.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Marius," Éponine seemed weary as she lifted her hand in greeting. "Monsieur Enjolras,"
"Éponine, I would really love to stay and talk," Marius was now getting up from the table. "But I have urgent business to attend to."
'Urgent? But you've been talking to me for the past five minutes,' Enjolras was slightly annoyed. Apparently Éponine was too.
"But Monsieur! Surely you can spare two minutes?"
"I'm afraid I can't, I've only just realized the time,"
'Of course.'
"But, Éponine? Can you do something for me?"
"I… Of course Monsieur."
"Can you give this message to Cosette for me?" He handed her a creamy piece of folded paper, the name Cosette scrawled across in a spidery, looping hand.
Éponine sighed quietly and slipped the letter into her shawl.
"Thank you, Éponine," Marius hugged her. She stiffened. "You're a wonderful friend." All she seemed to hear was the word friend. Marius left.
"Well, Monsieur Enjolras, I suppose I should leave also. Au Revoir."
"Madamoiselle-"
"Please, Monsieur. Éponine is fine. I am no Mademoiselle." She spoke with a proper, pretty French – quite odd, he thought, for a girl raised in the slums.
"Éponine. Would you like to sit here and… talk?" He didn't know why he asked her that. It must have been out of pity for the gamine, who seemed to have few friends outside of the café.
"Monsieur… It seems hardly proper that I… and I must deliver this… and my family will be…" Eventually she gave up on her excuses. They were feeble and, well… talking to Monsieur Enjolras couldn't be that bad. She pulled out the chair that Monsieur Marius had previously been sitting on, and perched lightly on the edge. "So… Monsieur… Why would you want from me?"
That took him by surprise. What did he want from her? "I… I suppose I want to know what you think of the revolution."
"The Revolution? I admire your courage and your vision." That was all she would say.
"Have you heard of the story of Eponina?"
"Eponina?"
"Your namesake. She was the wife of Julius Sabinus, who was the leader of a rebellion against the Roman Empire. They were executed together."
"I…" Éponine didn't quite know how to respond. "I suppose that's romantic in a way…"
"Her life... She shouldn't have had to die for him."
This irritated Éponine. "She did it for love, no? Surely that counts for something?"
"Your point has merit. But why die for something that may end badly?"
"You are willing to die for the revolution."
He allowed a small chuckle to escape his mouth. "Well, Éponine. You certainly know how to debate."
"Thank you, Monsieur."
The next few hours they spent, talking and befriending each other. The back room of the café slowly emptied, until it was just them and a few others – barmaids mostly.
"Monsieur… It's getting late and I still have to deliver this letter."
"Do you need accompaniment?" It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
"No, but thank you Monsieur. For the company and talk as well."
"You're welcome, Eponina,"
"Au revoir."
"Au revoir."
She was outside when she realised. He had called her Eponina. Not Éponine.
The next day Enjolras was, once again, at the Café Musian. He was working on another speech, one to address the people with, and also studies for university. Joly and Combeferre were with him, also studying and he was certain that Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bahorel were off with 'This week's ladies' as he had began to refer to those grisettes as. Suddenly, loudly, the door burst open. A gamin came running up to Enjolras' table. It was Gavroche, the street urchin that Les Amis had practically adopted as a little brother. He was panting heavily.
"M'sieurs, M'sieurs, come quickly!"
"Gavroche!" Combeferre stood and took charge of the situation. "What is it?"
"My sister…she's badly hurt sir, please, please hurry!" Gavroche was close to tears.
"Your... Sister?" Enjolras was confused. They all were. "Where?"
"Follow me."
Gavroche lead them out of the café and down a series of alleys. He finally stopped, and was kneeling by a bruised and bloodied body. One that was familiar. Éponine.
I really didn't want to leave it there... I'm having so much fun, it's amazing. Expect chapter 2 soon (probably before anyone has read this... Ah well). I'd just like to thank the other Éponine/Enjolras writers out there for being awesome. And having amazing ideas - like the Eponina/Éponine 'parallels'. If you're out there, make yourself known so I can give you the credit you deserve for that stroke of genius.
Also do you think it's a little fast paced? They're not in love...yet, but is it unlikely that they'd become friends in an evening? Review lovelies, I'll be writing chapter 2