A/N: I have to get some Enjolras/Éponine fluff out of my head before I update "Perhaps". Here goes!
WARNING: THIS IS FLUFF. NOTHING BUT FLUFF. And a little despair, but… FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF. Also adding in the personalities of Éponine and Enjolras… but all the same…
You have been warned.
It was late at night, though what ungodly hour it was, Enjolras did not know. All he knew was that he should be asleep, for he had a long day ahead of him. He knew that energy would be a precious resource the next day. And he knew that, however much sleep beckoned him, revolutions did not plan themselves.
Not that the revolution hadn't been planned already. No, he had been placing together the smallest and seemingly least important details for a long time. Enjolras had the entire lineup memorized forwards, backwards, upside down, and sideways.
So why in the good name of Patria was he still awake?
Just then, the front doors of the Musain creaked. Enjolras stood from his table, pushing his chair aside.
And in through the door walked Éponine Thénardier.
"Hello, m'sieur Enjolras."
Enjolras swallowed hard. He had known the street urchin for some time; she was a friend of Marius. But never had he really looked at her. And never had she looked like this.
Éponine was small, with a relatively thin build thanks to malnutrition. Her brown eyes were hollow in the dim light of the café. Her dark hair hung in waves down her back, ruffled in spots. Her hat was askew, and everything she wore was worn and torn. But what struck him was the blood running from her forehead down the side of her face.
"Good God, Éponine," he muttered, running toward her. "What happened?"
"Beer bottle," she croaked, her voice thick. He could see the trail her tears had left behind on her cheeks, and yearned to reach out and stroke them away, yet remained motionless.
"Beer bottle?" he repeated dumbly. "Who, 'Ponine?"
"My papa."
Enjolras didn't move. Slowly, his anger grew. It boiled inside him like the heat of a furnace. Her father had hit her with a beer bottle? Why, he ought to-
"M'sieur Enjolras?"
Her meek voice caught his attention. Immediately his anger dissolved.
Éponine shook her head lightly. Her small, bony hand reached for his. "I'm just fine. A little bloodshed ain't going to kill me."
Enjolras' jaw set firmly. "Your father… did this to you."
"That's right."
"And you're perfectly calm about this?"
Éponine bit her lip, staring down at her boots. "I've learned to deal with papa. That's how he is these days."
"You shouldn't have to deal with it!" Enjolras protested, cupping her face with both hands. "You're his daughter; he must have some respect for you!"
"That's not the point," she murmured. Her entire being screamed at her to step away. This was Enjolras. He was nothing but a good friend. He was not Marius. And she only loved her Marius.
Marius, who was in love with Cosette.
Hot tears formed in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but nevertheless, they escaped. Enjolras was quick to catch them and wipe them away, which made Éponine all the more uncomfortable.
"If you need a place to stay, my apartment is always open to you." The offer was out of his mouth before he could even think of what he was saying.
Éponine blushed furiously, shaking her head. "No, I'll be fine. If anything, the streets are where Gavroche is. I'll go along with his patch if it comes to it."
Enjolras sighed, meaning to release her, yet something kept him standing there, close to her. Something made him wonder what this girl was going through inside. Something wanted to take all her pain, all her suffering, all her hurt away. He wanted to help her, if she'd let him.
"Show me some way to help you," he murmured desperately. "Any way at all."
Éponine blinked. He wanted to help her. Her mind tried to process his words, and it did take a couple tries. No one had ever wished to help her. No one but Marius ever cared.
Marius, who loved someone else. Marius, who had been stolen by the little lark she despised with every bone in her body. Marius, who she loved with all her heart.
Or… did she? All her life, Éponine had pined for Marius. The schoolboy she could never have. Her best friend and closest companion, Azelma aside. The epitome of love, comfort, safety…
Enjolras was all of these things. Enjolras was a schoolboy she could never have. He wasn't her best friend, but in time could very well merit to as much. He would do anything for France, and he wanted to help her…
Love, comfort, safety… love was on the top of her list. She wanted- no, she needed- someone to be there for her. Without love, there would be no comfort, no safety. The sense of security she yearned for would never exist.
Around Marius, she only felt hurt and betrayal. He only regarded her as the best of his friends, nothing more. No matter what she did or said, that was all he would feel. He would only ever be protective of her out of boyish concern that would fade within minutes.
Around Enjolras, she felt cared for and secure. He regarded her as someone worth his while, nothing less. No matter what she said against her pain, his worry for her was unfailing. He would be protective of her no matter the situation, with a desire to be there for her that Marius' boyish nature could never match. Not that she was sure she wanted Marius to match it. Éponine wasn't sure of her 'childhood sweetheart' anymore.
With a deep breath and a voice filled with trepidation, Éponine managed to utter one single word.
"Love."
Enjolras had crushed his lips to hers before she could even realize that he was pulling her closer. Immediately her thoughts reverted to Marius. She'd been saving herself for Marius. And now Enjolras, of all people, was kissing her.
Marius doesn't love you. Marius doesn't love you. But it's possible that Enjolras loves you; at least, he could…
Without thinking twice, Éponine's arms curled around his neck, her hands running through his hair. Now, it was Enjolras' turn to be amazed.
He'd known that Éponine pined for his friend, the naïve, love-struck Marius. Yet here she was, returning a kiss- from himself- which he hadn't intended to give in the first place.
Then realization dawned on him. She'd needed to realize where her heart really was. Whether it was with a boy she'd known for years who only thought of her as a friend, or a man who had been there all along, without either of them realizing it.
Enjolras wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, holding her close. For now, they could enjoy each other's company. For now, they had each other, and that was all they needed.
But only for now.
A gunshot rang out.
"There's a boy climbing the barricade!"
Enjolras raised his bayonet, pointing it at the figure emerging from the top. Catching a glimpse of the figure's face, he signaled them all to relax. "Éponine!"
The girl stumbled over the furniture that made up their barricade, taking deep, strained breaths the entire while. "M-Marius… took his l-letter to… C-Cosette… her f-father said he'd g-give it to her… I-"
Her sentence was cut short as her balance failed her. Enjolras dropped the bayonet and grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Éponine yelped, clenching her teeth to keep from screaming in pain. Immediately, Enjolras released her.
His right hand was covered in blood. Her blood.
"JOLY!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, taking hold of Éponine's waist and lowering them both to the ground. Her breathing was labored, her small form was quivering.
Enjolras pulled the trench coat open and blanched. The entire upper right half of her shirt was bloodstained. The ominous red liquid continued to flow, which only dampened what little hope Enjolras contained.
Joly rushed forward. In his hands were gauze, peroxide, a needle, thread, and scissors.
"N-no…" Éponine murmured. Joly froze where he stood. "I'm fine… I… I feel wonderful. Like I'm flying… we're in the clouds, watching the stars…" Her gaze fell on the dark, empty night sky.
Lord knows what she sees up there, Enjolras thought.
"Ain't it lovely?" she continued on, pulling herself closer to him. "Just you and me… and we've got all the time in the world, just to be together."
"It sure is lovely, 'Ponine," he replied, his voice shaking in his attempt to hold back tears. "Just you and me, we sure are a pair."
"The best there ever was…" Her breath hitched suddenly, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Her hands gripped at Enjolras' vest, and he did his best to console her.
"Joly…" he murmured helplessly. "She…"
Joly's eyes were filled with tears unshed. "I'm so sorry…"
Enjolras returned his gaze to Éponine. "Are you alright?" His hands ghosted across her face, and her closed eyes relaxed. A lazy smile played across her lips.
"Never better…" she whispered. Her eyes opened fleetingly to gaze up at him, and soon her lips were against his. Enjolras moved one hand to support her head, shifting his other arm to wrap around her waist and hold her close. Against his lips, she concluded, "And there never was a better man's arms to be in when I say my goodbyes." She pulled her lips away from his briefly. "You were always there, Enjolras, but I never saw you. I sure wish I had…"
"ÉPONINE!" It was Marius.
Éponine's eyes glazed over, her expression distant. "M'sieur Marius… I think… I used to be... a little in love with you… but now-" Again she choked, clutching her shoulder in pain. Enjolras held her closer, rocking her back and forth slowly. Marius doubled over, heaving with soundless sobs. Joly moved to comfort him, slinging an arm across his shoulders.
By now, nearly every student present was witnessing the tragic events taking place within the sorry group's confines. Éponine grabbed the collar of Enjolras' vest and pulled him down toward her. "T-tell… tell Gavroche… I love him. And do me a favor… make those damn policemen pay, y'hear?"
Enjolras swallowed his cries of anguish, nodding. Éponine was the only one to notice the tears streaming down his face steadily.
"Don't cry…" she whispered hoarsely. "I feel wonderful. I've never been so… happy…"
"You could be!" he protested desperately. "You could've stayed away from the barricade and waited… we could've been together!"
"Enjolras," she breathed. Her lips connected with his again, his tears mingling with her blood. She pulled away from him suddenly, sucking in a breath… and smiling. Her eyes gleamed with a far off happiness, far from the barricade, from France, from the world.
Enjolras choked on a bitter sob. Swallowing hard, he raised a shaking hand to close her eyes. The smile he adored was still prominent on her face.
Marius was beyond despair. "No! No, 'Ponine!... No!..."
The remaining students bowed their heads. Some were sniffling, others were watery eyed. All were unable to speak.
Grantaire strode to Enjolras' side, kneeling beside him and breaking the horrendous silence. "She was a good woman."
"Brave," Joly quipped shakily.
"More than brave!" Marius wailed softly. "She was the best friend I could ever have…"
"Her," Coufeyrac said firmly, "we liked."
Enjolras shook his head. "Her we loved. Her… I loved. I loved her, and I never told her…"
Grantaire clapped his shoulder. "She knew. Or she wouldn't be smiling."
Enjolras spared one last glance at the girl- the foolish, overly brave, overly wonderful girl- and at that smile. Even in her death, she was happy. Her one need had been fulfilled.
Against all odds, she was loved.