20 years after Valjean's death. Marius and Cosette are happily married and busy raising a family. All is well. But the scars left by the past never really fade…

Marius awoke from a restless sleep. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The dreams still haunted him, even after all these years. They were always of a similar nature – screams, shouting, gunshots, the sickening thuds of bodies hitting the ground…and of course the horrible empty hole left by his closest friends, brutally eradicated from his life long before they should have been.

The doctors had encouraged him to focus on the positive memories left by his companions, rather than dwelling on their untimely deaths. And he had tried, he really had. But smiles easily morphed into pain-filled grimaces, laughter into panicked screams and light-hearted teasing into frantic orders to fire on the enemy or retreat back to the barricade. So Marius had decided not to think about them at all – it was easier to try and forget.

But the pain that still festered within him hadn't been too eager to let him go. So he had attempted to dull it by clinging on to the few tiny rays of light that still existed in his life.

He had just managed to calm himself down and summon the will to sit up when his brightest ray of light entered the room, her long blond hair braided over her right shoulder and her swollen belly containing their seventh child ballooning out from under her nightdress.

"Morning," she said softly, placing a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table and sitting beside him. "Sleep well?"

He shrugged, and took a sip of tea. "No worse than usual."

Cosette smiled sadly. "Still having dreams?"

He nodded wordlessly and Cosette knew it was time to change the subject.

"Now, do you remember what you need to do today?"

"Tidy the attic," he replied.

"Good," she nodded. "And I mean tidy it, not move things around a little so some of the floor is visible. I understand if you don't want to get rid of the stuff, but at least make it look like the attic of a respectable family rather than a witches hovel."

"Yes dear," Marius mumbled into his drink.

And so, a couple of hours later, Marius found himself in the roomy attic of their large house trying to keep an eye on five of his six children – little Gavroche, age seven, had been born two months premature and subsequently had various medical conditions including particularly brittle bones. He currently had a fractured leg and so could not climb the ladder up to the attic. This didn't overly bother him – he was perfectly content to occupy himself and keep his mother company. It was astonishing, Marius had always thought, the way Gavroche lived up to his namesake – the fact that he had survived being born so early was a miracle in itself and he never seemed to let his numerous health problems upset him. He was probably the most cheerful and content member of the family – their little miracle. Their joyful beacon of hope.

Marius' eldest son, Enjolras aged sixteen, was busy sorting various objects into boxes assisted by thirteen year old Grantaire. The ten year old twins, however, were not quite so willing to make themselves useful. They had stumbled across a couple of sabres and were engaged in an energetic fight.

"Courfeyrac! Combeferre! Stop! STOP! You're going to take someone's eye out!"

"But Papa, they're completely blunt!" Combeferre protested, sticking his weapon into his brother's ear to emphasise his point. This earnt him a sharp whack on the head from an indignant Courfeyrac.

"I don't care. Put them away immediately and help your brothers tidy this place up."

Marius watched them until he was satisfied that they were going to continue doing as they were told, however much grumbling was involved. He was just beginning to relax when his eyes fell on his youngest child and only daughter, five year old Eponine (also the only one who had inherited Cosette's golden locks rather than his brown mop). She had got hold of an old handgun and was happily playing with it in a corner of the room.

Sighing, Marius headed towards her intent on confiscating it. It wasn't loaded but still…if Cosette saw she'd have a fit.

"EPONINE FANTINE PONTMERCY PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM."

Too late.

Cosette stood near the top of the ladder leaning of the floor of the attic and bristling with anger.

Eponine looked up at the sound of her name, but her mother's anger didn't deter her. She stubbornly hugged the weapon to her chest. Cosette made to climb completely into the attic but Marius stopped her.

"You shouldn't be climbing around in your condition," he murmured. "Let me deal with this."

"See that you do," Cosette replied. "I don't really want her up here at all." With that, she disappeared back down the ladder.

Marius braced himself and approached his daughter.

"Eponine, give that to me please."

Eponine shook her head and clung onto her new found toy.

"I won't let you up here again," her father warned.

Her face crumpled. Realising the battle was lost; Marius picked her up and, as the tantrum began, passed her down to Cosette, handgun and all. Cosette was better at dealing with these things than he was.

At the end of the day, the attic was looking a little more presentable, but there was still one last object to be found.

"Father, what is this?"

Marius turned to see Enjolras holding a bundle of red fabric.

Flying atop a decorated hearse, then crowning the barricade, all the time being welded by that determined young man who eventually met his end…along with so many others…

"Papa? Are you ok?"

Marius snapped back to the present and observed his sons looking at him with curious concern.

"Yes, thank you Grantaire," he said shakily. "I'm fine. I just…need to sit down for a minute."

He perched on a box and put his head in his hands, trying to control his breathing. Enjolras unfurled the flag and stood it beside him, running his hand through the faded crimson material.

"Was this used in the revolution?" he inquired softly.

Marius muttered an affirmative and raised his head.

"Did you wave it? Or did someone else?"

"Someone else," Marius said quietly. "A good friend. My best friend. His name was Enjolras too."

Enjolras the second nodded thoughtfully then gently rolled the flag up and placed it atop a row of boxes.

"Come father," he said, helping Marius up. "You look like you need a drink. Something strong."

Marius nodded mutely, and allowed himself to be led out of the attic and into the spacious living room. Cosette took one look at him and went about pouring a generous glass of brandy. She handed it to him and he drained half the glass in one go.

"Papa! What's wrong? Are you ill?"

Gavroche came hobbling into the room at top speed, his round face full of concern.

"We found his dead friend's flag. You know, from the revolution," Combeferre informed him in a loud whisper.

"His best friend, who had the same name as him," Courfeyrac added, stabbing a finger in Enjolras' direction.

"Boys," Cosette said sternly. "Your father is tired. Let him relax."

"No no," Marius said quickly. "I suppose they should hear about it someday." He raised his voice over the sudden outbreak of excited chattering. "Come now; settle down before I change my mind."

He hauled Gavroche onto his lap and Cosette sat beside him with Eponine on hers. The other four boys sat on the floor around their feet, looking up at him with apprehension.

And so he began. He told them of their namesakes, of Enjolras's passion fuelled leadership and Grantaire's ability to lighten everyone's mood with a few words. He told them of his and Cosette's first meeting, of how his sense of duty meant he had to leave her all too soon. And he told them of the deaths, of his friends' descent into martyrdom. He noticed his sons blinking back tears at his heart-wrenching account of Eponine's first and final words of love to him, as her life slipped away before his eyes and her body relaxed in his arms. Cosette and little Eponine were now crying freely.

At the end of his account, they all sat quietly, each occupied with their own thoughts. When Eponine and Gavroche began to yawn, Cosette pulled herself together and ushered them all out of the room to their beds, save for Enjolras who had a question for his father.

"Why was your friend Eponine at the barricade in the first place? I mean, she was a girl. Girls can't fight."

Marius smiled sadly. "Eponine was no ordinary girl. She disguised herself."

"But why? She may have lived."

"She couldn't bear to be away from me." Marius said simply. "Even though my heart was set on someone else. Someone I wouldn't even have met if it weren't for her. But she bottled it up and was faithful until the end."

"Wow," Enjolras said. "That's some girl. I wish I could have met her."

"You would have liked her. Everyone did."

They sat together in silence for a while until Enjolras retired to his room, leaving Marius to nurse the memory of Eponine's last adoring smile, frozen on her face forever.

Two months later.

Cosette sat up in bed, tired but happy, cradling the new born baby in her arms. Marius stood beside her and gazed down at his son. The big brown eyes stared back from underneath a layer of silky golden hair.

"You can name this one," he said to his wife.

"I already have," she replied.

"Really? What will it be?"

She smiled up at him.

"Jean," she said softly. "His name is Jean."