A/N: Originally a Secret Santa for rosemarycountess on Tumblr.
She was dying.
She didn't believe in fairy tales anymore, of course. But there was definitely something extremely poetic about dying for love – and it had happened to her. She was a martyr, and she had become one on her own, by choice, seizing the heroine and martyr titles all at the same time.
She saw the light as her soul soared towards the heavens. She closed her eyes, remembering the night's darkness when she would wander in the streets and ignore the cold rain piercing through her rags. Now, only warmth and brightness surrounded her.
Then came the downfall.
It was as if God had proven himself, in the end, to be nothing more than a horrifying trickster who wanted to show her a glimpse of eternal happiness before crushing her in the most cruel way imaginable.
She was now prostrated on the ground. She had no idea where she was. Well, to be honest, she hadn't lifted her head since she had fallen down. She had gotten in one of her "favorite" positions – all curled in a ball while her hands were covering her head, a reflex she had gotten over time in order to protect herself from blows. She didn't even let out a sob, for she was afraid that if she did, the noise would anger some dark presence near her.
Was this hell?
She was the daughter of a wolf. She had never feared a man, no matter who he was. Now, she realized that she feared only one thing.
Being alone.
Some say that l'enfer, c'est les autres. For her, it couldn't have been truer. However, it wasn't in the same way this sentence was usually used. Each way, may it be within company or alone, dragged into madness. The question was now all about determining which madness was sweeter.
All of a sudden, she felt a hand touching her shoulder.
She stiffened, not knowing if it was better for her to run away or to just stay there until the hand would leave her. She didn't even tremble, refusing to show any kind of fright.
The hand wouldn't leave.
It didn't crawl on her, nor did it squeeze her shoulder too tightly. It was tender, warm, but in a certain way, firm.
Like a mother's touch.
She remembered the happier days, when her little brother wasn't even born and there was only her sister and herself. Her mother took such great care of them, cuddling them in the finest clothes they could afford, primping them, dressing their hair in those adorable little ringlets sticking out of their bonnets quite prettily, and bouncing in the air when they would skip around. Then things had changed. From time to time, their mother's affection would show itself, but she was forced to obey the hungry wolf that was her husband, and survival consumed almost any kind of love she had within herself.
And, to tell the truth, there wasn't much to start with.
"Éponine…"
A woman's voice called out her name. It sounded strangely familiar. It was soft, a bit breathy, but somehow melodious. It was only then that she finally dared to lift her head. A soft light shone in the darkness. As she slowly turned around, still apprehensive, she realized that the light came from the woman just beside her, who still softly kept her hand on her shoulder.
She was an angel, probably. The fact that she was all dressed in white only confirmed this for Éponine. There was something so serene about her expression, the softness in her eyes, her heart-shaped face which was emphasized by her blonde hair cut short, which somehow rather fit her well. And she had the loveliest smile she had ever seen…
Well, her smile looked exactly like the Lark's.
Éponine shrugged. The Lark, according to M'sieur Marius, she thought bitterly, was an angel, after all.
"Where am I?" she finally managed to ask, her voice sounding even raspier than usual.
"With me," the woman simply replied.
"I can see that," Éponine snarked. But the lady in white only giggled.
"I'm Fantine," she said.
It was then that Éponine finally made the link. Fantine… she remembered that name from when she was very little. Fantine. She was the Lark's mother. This could only mean no good. Maybe this was why she was stuck in Hell instead of being in heaven. The mother was going to make her pay for everything her parents and, to a lesser extent, she had done to the daughter.
Like a wild animal, Éponine recoiled from Fantine. But she made no motion to stop her. When Éponine finally looked back, she only saw a soft smile and a glimmer of understanding in Fantine's eyes.
"I'm not here to torment you," she finally said.
"Oh, but why not?" Éponine snapped. "You probably know by now how my parents treated the Lark. I wasn't exactly nice with her either. I'd get her in trouble for things she hadn't done but that I did. I'm not exactly sure why, though – Maman would have forgiven me and told Papa not to punish me. You have every reason to despise the sight of me."
"Well, clearly, it's not the case, is it?"
"Then why are you here?"
Fantine got up, and Éponine, in order to keep some sort of control, did the same.
"Just follow me, Éponine. I want to show you something. Many things."
She presented her hand, as if she invited Éponine to take it. For a long moment, the gamine hesitated, throwing at Fantine some gazes that were sometimes fierce, sometimes questioning, while she would never tire and keep her hand held out.
The choice was simple. Either she was to stay in this horrible place, either she was to follow Fantine.
Finally, Éponine put her hand in Fantine's.
And in a split second, they were out of the darkness.
They were both suddenly transported in a cozy-looking room, with a bright fire lighting the place. As Éponine's eyes adjusted to the dimly-lit place, she finally recognized the silhouette sitting in an armchair near the fireplace. It was Marius.
He had survived. She hadn't died in vain.
She wanted to run to him, hug him tightly, but Fantine held her by the arm.
"We're just shadows," she murmured. "They cannot see us."
Éponine shoved her arm away, as she bit her lip in deception. She turned back to Marius, who couldn't see her – again. She looked at how pale he was, with a shawl wrapped around his shoulders, and his right arm in a sling…
Still, he was alive. That was enough.
Someone soon came behind him, and as the silhouette's face came into the light, Éponine recognized the Lark. She cringed. Why did she feel that way? Of course Marius was with the Lark. It was to be expected.
"Do you need anything, Marius?" Cosette said in her breathy, bird-like voice, so similar to her mother's.
Marius simply shook his head. In response, Cosette sat on the ground, near him, her head lying down on his knees while she took his left hand and stoke it gently. But he suddenly took a deep breath.
"Cosette… can I tell you something?"
She lifted up her head.
"But of course! Anything!"
Marius twisted his mouth and shook his head. Éponine knew he always did that when he got nervous. But now, he looked desperate, which only meant no good.
"What I have to tell you… oh, Cosette, you'll despise me if I tell you. And if I don't, I won't have been entirely honest with you."
"Marius… please, don't say that. I know you wouldn't do anything wrong. I trust you, you know that."
"But that's the point! I feel… I have never been unfaithful to you and our love, but…" He stopped, took a deep breath. Éponine's throat tightened. She knew exactly what he was going to talk about.
"You know… on the barricade?" Cosette nodded, which somehow encouraged Marius to continue. "I almost got hit at the very beginning. But someone took the bullet for me… her name was Éponine."
Éponine was an uncommon name. Germaine Thénardier had chosen it in the honor of a heroine she had read about in those romance novels of hers – something about a girl sacrificing herself back in the Roman times for her lover, who happened to be the leader of a group of revolutionaries – what was the name of that story? Ah yes. Eponine et Sabinus.
Of course, the Lark's eyes fluttered a bit as she heard the name, while her memory stirred. But nothing in her facial expression changed, as she encouraged Marius to continue.
"Éponine… I never realized it, but… I was the only person who actually behaved decently with her. She had no one else but me in the world. So… she took the bullet and… she loved me, Cosette. And still, she's the one who found you and brought me to you."
Éponine saw Cosette smiling softly. She was frustrated, for a while, not to see any kind of jealousy on her face… but probably the Lark was such an angelic creature she didn't even know what jealousy was.
"And what happened next, Marius?" Cosette asked softly.
"She was dying… and I held her in my arms. It started raining, and I tried to keep her from getting wet, but she said that she didn't care and… that's when she told me that she loved me. She didn't care if I didn't love her back, she was just happy that I was there with her! And… when she died…"
Marius gulped. The hardest part was to come.
"I kissed her."
He got his left hand out of Cosette's grasp to hide his face.
Marius' lips were the last thing Éponine had felt before fading away.
It had been a sensation she would never forget, even beyond the grave. She had dreamed of a kiss from Marius so many times – and it happened. The price for it was death, but for Éponine, it had been worth it.
"I just… wanted to make her happy, make her death happier, at least… Cosette… I'm sorry… I don't even know why I'm even saying that I'm sorry, I should be on the floor begging for your forgiveness and…"
"Marius…" Cosette's soft voice interrupted his soliloquy. "Let me understand… you kissed her?"
"Yes," he replied blankly, as if he didn't have any energy left.
"Good."
As soon as she heard Cosette's reply, Éponine's mind somehow snapped. So, the Lark knew that Marius had betrayed his vows of eternal love and fidelity, only for a second, for a dying girl who had, in the past, given her nothing else but pain. But still…
Either she was completely foolish.
Either she…
"What?" Marius was just as aghast as Éponine was, perhaps even more.
Cosette took a deep breath. A frown appeared on her pretty face, as she remembered painful memories she had forgotten over the years in self-defence.
"I knew her… a long time ago. But our… situations were… at the opposite of what they are… were… Well… without her, we wouldn't be together, would we? And… she saved your life, Marius. Her life for yours… and that kiss… it isn't even enough to repay the gift she gave you."
Marius was crying, now, and all Cosette could do was to hug him tightly, murmuring to him words of almost motherly pride, comfort and joy.
Éponine turned towards Fantine, who was still lost in the scene's contemplation, as she looked lovingly at her daughter. Her smile widened, to become almost exaggerated, as if she was retaining a sob.
To be honest, Éponine had to hold herself from crying as well.
Marius was happy. She realized that to her, it was the most important thing. And… it was so strange to say, but she was… happy that the Lark – Cosette didn't hate her, or pity her.
And now, she felt peace invading her, riding her of all the despair she had felt in her life and which had managed to perniciously follow her in the afterlife.
"Thank you," she finally managed to say. Fantine smiled softly to her, and took her hand.
"Now, follow me. I want to introduce you to someone else. Well, a whole lot of someone elses," she giggled.
And soon, they had left Marius and Cosette to their peaceful, loving comfort, to find themselves in a meadow.
Was this heaven?
Éponine wanted to believe so. She could feel the sunlight on her skin, providing warmth she hadn't felt in a very long time. Her clothing was changed, too – her rags had been replaced by a white gown similar to Fantine's.
"Ponine!" she heard a recognizable voice pipe its usual determined whistling sound. In a split second, he was tightly hugging her tiny waist, and all she could do was laugh and ruffle his dirty blonde hair, as if it wasn't messy enough.
"Gavroche!" she finally shouted. "You… you're here?"
She realized, at that moment, that like her, her little brother had… died. Marius had survived, but Gavroche… but he was here, with her, instead of running in the streets, with the risk of something bad happening to him always lurking despite all his resourcefulness. She didn't know if she should be laughing or crying, but, in the end, she decided that after that suffering, she should perhaps be glad that nothing could ever harm him again.
As she lifted her eyes up, she saw all of Marius' friends in front of her, all smiling warmly at her. Their leader – Enjolras was his name, wasn't it? – was still holding his red flag, which had, amusingly so, followed him in the afterlife. He smiled, for once, and held out his hand towards her.
Éponine saw Fantine smiling at her, as she slowly faded away in a mist. She remembered those times she had told Marius how she would have wished to be a student, how proud she was that she had learned to read, at least…
Éponine Thénardier realized, at that moment, that in order to be happy, she didn't need a prince charming, at least not for now. Maybe later, maybe never.
She knew that now, she would never be on her own again.
She took Enjolras' hand with resolve.
This is the first Les Mis thing I'm publishing, so... reviews?