A/N: Hey guys! This is just a little one-shot with Éponine and Joly that I just wrote one day when I had nothing else to do. :) R&R!
Éponine always used to be afraid of the dark, but now, she wasn't scared. She felt Joly's torso against her back, his arm around her waist, listened to his deep, restful breathing on the pillow next to hers, felt its chill on the back of her neck, and was somehow at peace. Smiling to herself, she turned over in his arms to curl into his chest, and as he slept, his left arm wrapped around her shoulders. The breathing deepened into a light snore, and she could hardly keep from giggling. Trying not to wake him, she gently pressed her lips to his temple, still smiling to herself. He stirred slightly, the arm around her shoulders tightening a little.
"Mmh…Éponine?"
"Right here, darling," she smiled. "You were snoring again," she chuckled.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, concerned.
"No, I was already awake; you just amused me," she grinned.
He grinned back and lightly kissed her lips. "Glad to be of assistance, Mademoiselle," he smiled. His hand came up to cup her cheek as he looked at her, and she brought one up to meet his.
She closed her eyes, still smiling, as she thought about their relationship. Before they met, she had never thought anyone could care for another person – especially for her – so much. All through her childhood and adolescence, her parents had abused her and her younger siblings. They were made to feel like they were nothing, and would always be nothing. Their father even used Éponine and her sister as prostitutes at his tavern. She never believed someone could really care about her. In her own eyes, she was no better than the dirt on a man's shoes.
But it was Jean-Baptiste Joly – the mild-mannered, hypochondriac student doctor – that had proved her wrong at every turn. They had been together for three years now, and they had been the best three years of Éponine's life. He accepted her past as a part of who she was, and still deeply loved her. When she was shot at the barricade, he was the first one at her side, working feverishly to keep her from dying. He had saved her life that night, but was unable to completely save her left hand, which was disfigured from the bullet that had then gone into her side. The first two fingers were slightly warped, and she didn't have their full use.
He reached out and took it now, cradling the two mutilated digits in his own. "I wish I could have done more that night…" he murmured sadly as he looked at them.
Éponine shook her head, her right hand coming up to cradle his face. "You did what you could for me," she said, making him look into her eyes. "I'm still alive, aren't I? And I can still mostly use this hand."
Joly nodded, biting his lower lip. "Still…"
She shushed him, putting a finger to his lips. "No arguments tonight," she said with a smile, though she knew he was still racked with guilt. Part of Éponine knew that he always would be – he would always feel like he didn't do enough for her, inadequate that he couldn't completely save her hand. As if she read his mind, she cradled his face with her good hand. "You have no reason to be guilty, my Jean. You did everything you knew to do."
He sighed quietly, finally nodding. "Alright, you win tonight."
Éponine chuckled, kissing his cheek. "Go back to sleep, love. Tomorrow's a new day."