((Alright, I've polished this old story up a bit. Fixed a few errors, and the spacing. God, I had no idea what spacing was, did I? Still don't, really. Maybe this'll be better, though. Anyway, as I said in the original version, I own nothing. If, by some random chance, anyone wants me to add more onto this story, tell me, and I'll try. Key word being try. Enjoy!))

Her coughing, he suspected, had indeed become more violent within the past five minutes, her cheeks a brighter, hotter red. She moaned softly in her sleep, thrashing about in discomfort.
"Oh, darling," he murmured, pressing a cold cloth to her forehead, smoothing the hair that stuck to her forehead away gently. "Oh, dear God, please...I need you Cosette. We need you." He massaged her hand gently, turning the compress over to the cooler side, watching as she settled into a deeper, slightly more restful sleep, still tossing though not as awfully. Kneeling, he began to pray, the sound of his voice soft against the patter of the rain on the windowpane.
"Oh, dear God, please," he said, "help her see how much we need her. Help her to keep fighting. Help her in any way You see fit." Finishing with a prayer, he grasped his wife's hand again, soon falling asleep in the chair that he had pulled up to the side of the bed. It was the sound of the rain and the breathing of his son sleeping in the cradle only a few feet away that had lulled him, both sounds comforting in their own respect. One that promised of growth and life, and one of life itself. Though his sleep was light, it was dream-filled, the kind that made little sense. Images, simply. Flipping through his mind over and over again. Of the barricades, of his marriage to Cosette, of their son's birth. Then back to the barricades, watching as Eponine was shot.

He woke with a start only a few hours later, to what he believed to be footsteps, a source of breathing other than his own and that of his wife and son. A presence magnified by the dark and by the night. The rain had slowed a bit, creating veins of water on the window. There again came the sound of a footfall, and he started.
"Who's there?" he hissed, squeezing Cosette's hand as he stood, before letting it go gently. "I know there is someone here. Show yourself."
"You have gotten no less brave, Monsieur." It wasn't so much the voice as the strange familiarity of it, for though he could not put the voice to a face it was so familiar, so achingly familiar.
"Who is there?" He repeated, answered this time only by a soft laugh.
"Do you not recognize me?" The voice was almost teasing, and he turned this way and that, trying to figure out just where the voice came from.
"Please," he finally said. "Just show yourself."
From the corner where shadows had thrown themselves there was movement. His head snapped in that direction almost immediatly, and he watched in fascination as first one foot stepped from the darkness, followed by it's companion. The form of a young woman stepped out, almost glowing in a rather eerie way. Her face...he paused, furrowing his brow in confusion, though it soon smoothed into surprise, his eyes remaining just as confused.

"Eponine?" The young woman nodded, a smile parting her lips slightly. He winced momentarily, expecting to see the gappy smile he had learned to expect. It never came, for none of her teeth were missing, nor were they crooked. Rather, they were all there, all straight. In fact, she looked as she might have if she had not been thrust into poverty. The old hint of grace that used to so ill-fit her now fit like a glove. Her hair was healthy now, instead of stringy. Clean instead of dirty. No longer was she bony to the point of skeletal. Rather, she looked as someone would that ate healthily most of their lives. Eyes once so dark and unhappy now carried a sign of life, though in their depths there still was a hint of the old sadness.
"Do I really look so different?" She was teasing still, and the smile grew as she stepped toward him.
"But...what...I don't unserstand, Eponine. How..."
"Special circumstances, Marius." Her voice now succeeded in being soft, no longer was it harsh and gutteral. It wasn't the old Eponine, the one he had known. But then again, perhaps she had always been like this and he simply hadn't noticed. Her footsteps carried her lightly across the smooth wooden floors to stand beside him at the bed, looking down at Cosette. Marius studied her intently for a moment, watching as her head cocked to the side as Cosette thrashed again, uncomfortable in her illness.

"She really is sick, isn't she?" Though her voice held a slightly icy edge, it was nonetheless sympathetic. She lowered herself to a kneeling position, taking one of Cosette's hands in her own, slender fingers wrapping around the equally slender fingers of Cosette. It was an odd motion, one he would not have expected Eponine to do. Then, taking one hand, she pressed it to Cosette's brow, and Marius watched in amazement as the redness and heat seemed to ease from her face. Cosette sighed, settling back into the pillow in comfort. Eponine stood.
"Eponine, I..."
"Do not thank me, Marius. It is thanks enough to see you so happy."
He hadn't realized the giddy smile that had slipped across his face, or the faint smile on hers when she had noticed it.
"And besides," Eponine continued, "You love her. She loves you. Anyone can see it. It would be cruel for one of you to be without the other." From behind them, Cosette and Marius's son fussed in his sleep, and Eponine drifted to the cradle, resting her hands on the sides, looking down at the tiny infant. Marius walked over to stand by her side, not cautious, but more in awe of what he had seen over the past few minutes. Her head tilted to look at him, and he didn't notice how oddly easily she smiled, now.
"He's beautiful, Marius." There was the harsh pull of tears on her voice, and he looked into her eyes, surprised slightly. The eyes that looked back into his gleamed with a sadness he could not place, and her smile was only slight.

She stepped back from the cradle, and Marius followed suit, standing awkwardly in front of her, avoiding her eyes. She, however, lifted his face with her fingers, placing one hand against the side of his face.
"Thank you," she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you for holding me as...as I died. For being the last thing I saw and the last sound I heard." She stroked his cheek lightly with her thumb, tilting her head to the side. "You will make a wonderful father, Marius." Raising herself onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek, a soft kiss. Slowly she pulled away, leaving her hand on the side of his face.
"You still have my love, Marius," she said quietly, and now a single tear finally escaped. "Please remember that. Remember me when the rain falls."
"A little fall of rain," he whispered in reply, his own eyes welling slightly.
"Yes," she laughed. "Yes." Slowly she stepped back, her hand slipping lightly away from his cheek as she backed further up. Stopping at about the center of the room, she glanced toward the ceiling as if it were dreadfully interesting.
"Eponine!"

She looked back, eyes curious.
"Yes?"
"Will I...see you again?"
He knew the answer before she gave it.
"No, Marius. Not while you live. Perhaps...one day. We all meet the same fate, after all."
At that, she began to, for lack of a better word, fade.
"'Ponine!"
A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth as she looked back down.
"Promise me something?"
She nodded, never looking from his eyes.
"Look after my son? I mean, I know you can't..."
"I will. You have my word."

Her last word drifted in his mind for a moment before she dissapeared entirely. To a room empty except for his sleeping wife and child, he whispered.
"Merci, Eponine."
He climbed back into bed, encircling Cosette's waist with his arms, burying his face in her hair. And as he drifted off to sleep, he could have sworn he heard her laughter.