SUMMARY: Eponine wakes up to a place she's never seen before, to meet the eyes of people she does not recognize, planted into a life she'd never imagined for herself without inkling of the events before her lids fluttered open; a clean slate. Her path crosses with Enjolras, no longer the leader of the revolution, but a man forced to live within walls of lies with a mask; a miserable shadow of the Apollo he once had been.
A/N: Hello people! Here's an Intro-Chapter for you. This story has been an idea I've been playing with for some time now, and though I have yet to reveal the bigger details, would you please do me a favor and let me know if it tugs any interest in you?
Well then, read on. Hope you enjoy it!
"She's still alive. I can take the bullet out, and stop the bleeding. But I am worried about her head." The young student of medicine, Joly spoke as he checked her pulse and both wounds: one on her forehead caused by the fall and the other on her shoulder by a bullet from the national guard, both angrily gushing out blood.
The crowd around the young gamine was quickly growing. Marius, who was cradling her unconscious body, was deep in shock, unable to form any sort of response.
The atmosphere grew solemn; a silent prayer said with hushed words floated from this barricade of dreams, eyes turned downcast at the realization that they not be as lucky as the girl, they might not see tomorrow. She was the first to fall, how many more will there be? How many will stay standing at the end of the day?
"Take her into the café, Joly. Make haste." A young man with piercing blue eyes and a red coat, first recovered and quickly ordered his men. "Combeferre!"
The one addressed as Combeferre nodded in understanding, picking up the wounded girl and following Joly to the Corinth to be tended to. As the crowd dissipated with orders from him, he made his way to his devastated friend.
"Marius, rest. She will make it through the night, have faith in Joly and Combeferre." He was sure of it. Make it through the night, she will. Make it out of this? I could only hope.
"Will we though, Enjolras?" Another man spoke up his body slumped across several furniture that was part of the barricade with a bottle visibly obvious in his hand. "Will we make it through the night too?"
Marius remained unresponsive. Enjolras, shot him a cold look over his shoulder. "Do you still not have faith in the revolution? In the people of France?" Why are you even here then?
"No." The drunk said defiantly. "But I have faith in you, and that is enough to get me through."
For once, the great orator and the leader of the revolution stood fazed and speechless. His lips slightly parted, questioning yet oddly believing at the same time. "Drink with me." He heard Grantaire say, he mindlessly took the bottle from his friend's hand. He gave in, took a swig and handed it to Marius who wordlessly took the bottle as well.
All around him he could see his friends settling around the barricade they made. Bottles passed around, pipes lit, an amiable chatter and song wandered through the men, and for a moment one could forget that there were soldiers waiting on the other side. One could ignore the noise of the canons' wheels rolling on cobblestone. In that temporary repose, one could even believe that a gathering of friends like this one would be lived out a hundred times more.
Enjolras took everything in.
Bahorel, with his split lip from the fistfight earlier at the funeral march, was swinging his musket over his head telling some tale. Honestly, what good is that gun you hold, if you so prefer to fight with your hands?
Courfeyrac and the gamin, Gavroche - the master and his faithful apprentice – who sat just above the older boy's shoulder singing a merry tune of skirts in summer time. Courfeyrac, despite his smile eyed the little boy every now and then, noticeably concerned about him.
Fueilly and Prouvaire quietly occupying their hands with their craft while sitting amongst friends, here and there listening and joining in, bottles sat loyally by their sides. Feuilly with a brush in one hand and a fan in another, and Prouvaire with a pen poised on his lips as he undoubtedly thought a line over.
And from the corner of his eye, he saw Joly and Combeferre exit the Musain, their features arranged with exhaustion, but their contented and relieved smiles demanded more attention. Perhaps Marius will be relieved as well.
When he turned to look at Pontmercy, he tried his hardest not to scoff. Marius was back to his lovesick phase again spouting words for his Cosette, talking to Grantaire who didn't seem to pay him any mind. How quickly he seemed to forget about the mademoiselle who took a bullet for him. And they say I'm foolish for not entertaining love.
He felt an arm drape on his shoulders and turned his head to see Combeferre staring at the men with a slight smile on his face, the feat he had overcome with Joly reinvigorated his spirit. Enjolras followed his gaze. "She will live to see the new dawn we will bring, Enjolras." A sudden flicker of hope he thought he'd lost earlier, ignited in him once again and he felt oddly contented.
There amongst his friends, for the first time since the massive wall of furniture sprouted up, he felt it in his heart that maybe this was not at all insane, that perhaps even if they got damaged and a little broken, they'd still be able to reap what they have sown. There amongst his friends' familiar smiles and roguish smirks at the good news that Joly brought back, he felt the corner of his lips twitch up as well.
They believed in him, and him in them. They believed in a free France. These men were his brothers, and he'd follow them to hell and back.
For the first and last time in that barricade, Enjolras offered a small smile.
Scanning the lifeless bodies amongst the heaps of wood and glass, Inspector Javert felt oddly out of his element. The events concerning Valjean continued to occupy his thoughts. He had let me go. Just like that. As if I haven't made his life a living hell all these years. Is it really so easy to forgive?
He entered the café and allowed his empty eyes to wander at the faces of the group of young men who he knew lead and organized this barricade. He stopped though, at a moment of rare weakness, as he set his sights on the youngest one, the same one who broke his cover last night – Gavroche.
Such a fiery soul this little thing once held. He couldn't seem to hate the boy for his distress at being exposed. Just then a thought crossed his mind, Valjean had said, "There's nothing that I blame you for. You've done your duty, nothing more." Oddly, he felt similarly towards the boy. He had the guts and wits to point out a traitor, and for that he respected the young revolutionary.
He felt his body quiver, and as if moved by someone other than himself, he lowered himself on the ground, unpinned the medal on his chest and positioned it on the boy's chest. A lonely tear slid down his face and landed on the boy's cheek where it continued to make its way to the bloodstained floor.
If God had granted me a son, he would be exactly like you: stubborn, clever and brave.
Picking himself up the floor, he realized that there was someone missing. A notable gap between the bodies was enough room for queries to form.
Montparnasse's had his heart in his throat pounding violently making him short of breath. He steeled himself a moment against a wall carefully re-adjusting the weight of the fragile body in his arms.
He had seen her fall, he heard the men say that she would be fine, and just as the first canons broke through the dawn, he thought that maybe he was too late to make a move and retrieve her.
As he started moving again, he could not help but thank heaven that she'd been unconscious through the whole massacre. It had saved her from death and imprisonment, for they have thought her dead. It was only by mere luck that he had managed to get out before Javert entered the café; he was barely able to whisper an apology to Gavroche, as he abandoned him there.
Now that he succeeded to get Eponine out of harms way, he realized he had no idea where to keep her. To go back to the Thenardiers would be putting her in her grave. To keep her too long in the place he resided would be too risky. He had to put her somewhere where her father would not find her, even if it would mean that she would be out of his reach as well.
Carefully laying Eponine on his cot, he meticulously arranged her form, straightening her clothes and brushing the stray strands that landed on her face off to the side. For a young assassin, he carried out his motions with gentleness akin to a lover. When he was with Eponine, he became a contradiction of everything he is known to be and he could not bring himself to simply be otherwise.
Forgive me for waiting till something like this could happen before I could save you. I am a coward if anything, but I am here; always here, Ponine. He graced her forehead with a lingering kiss.
With one last glance, he slipped out the door, locking it as he left. He needed to find somewhere safe for her. Where to start?
The wheels of the carriage halted to a stop, the dust whirling around earlier finally getting a chance to settle back on the street. It was quite a challenge to maneuver and get through the streets leading to La Force due to the recent influx of men taken under arrest from the failed revolution, most of which were young students and working class men.
As Gerard Enjolras step out of the carriage drawn by two fetching black steeds, he straightened his coat and readjusted his cravat. For a man who stood as proud and intimidatingly as he did, with his dark blonde locks, piercing blue eyes and notably well tailored clothes, it was easy to have the crowded path clear as he made his way into the dilapidated prison walls.
The Enjolras name was a well regarded one until lately. It was known for their vast properties scattered outside Paris that were used for the production of wine grapes and wheat, making them one of the largest contributor to the agricultural growth of France. Also, they were known for their successful careers that proved over from generation to generation as lawyers. With this in mind, the family was well established in the higher circle of the French social class, having connections to high places to people who influenced the country and some even had reaches to their European neighbors. Simply stating, the Enjolras name was almost untouchable.
Almost.
"Reims has been quiet at most. No squabbles or disputes, none of the things you crazy Parisians seem to live for!" An old man with kind eyes said to another man while loading a couple of crates into his wagon, his tone friendly and jesting.
"Ah but you people over there only have your vineyards and champagne to keep you entertained. We have all the lovely women!" the other grinned.
Montparnasse stood a little to the side, quite unnoticed as he took a break from his task. It has been three days, and though Eponine's fever broke the night before, she has yet to wake. The need to get her somewhere safe was growing more urgent as the days gone by. He had already missed two nights with Patron Minette, and they were growing inquisitive.
"Ah the champagne is enough! Yet even so, Paris doesn't hold a monopoly over beauty. The lady of my master's house is quite a vision, has a good heart on her too, just like her husband. I and my family are truly lucky to have been employed in their estate."
"Ha! Perhaps I should move there, no?"
"It would do you a good deal, come with me then, I leave tomorrow at dawn. The master always has his gates open. It really does baffle me just how many come knocking at the doors even at night. Some stay for a day, some for a harvest… but it doesn't mater to my master, he just takes them in, gives them work and pays them just wages. We truly are lucky ones."
The other man had spoken to reply, but Montparnasse did not stay to witness any more of the exchange. An idea had struck him, and he hoped his gut and his hearing were right because Eponine's life depended on it.
A/N: How was it? From this point it could go to so many directions… Leave me a comment or PM me for any of your thoughts/questions/ideas. Would greatly appreciate hearing from you.
Oh, and if you haven't already, I've got another fic under 'Books' that I would really love for you to read and review. Please do so. :)
So, next chapter? Yes? No?