I don't own Les Miserables.

CHAPTER 1

Marius is holding me, his arms are warm. But the feeling of them, pressed against me through sodden clothes, it slowly fades. His hand strokes my cheeks, but I can barely feel them. The warm blood that once gushed from me has now settled into a trickle. He's speaking to me, Marius, but his words turn into colors that are soft and muted. I think the men of the barricade have stopped and are all staring at us, at me, as the life runs out from me.

What does a girl have to do to get some privacy to die, I think, able to muster a little bit of sarcasm in my last moments.

I think it's raining, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm with Marius, and he's with me. I close my eyes and I give way to the dizzying blackness that calls my name and seems to have a voice that sounds surprisingly like Marius.

In a blur of a moment, I open my eyes to hazy gray. My blood has been replaced by lead and I can't move, I'm so weak, and I just need to go to sleep. Please, I just want to die already, please.

Before I slip away again, someone says in a strange accent, "Hold on, sweetheart. It's gonna be okay. I've-"

When I wake up again, I'm lying in a lumpy bed, covered by a thin blanket, itchy cloth over my shoulder. I try to sit up, but I can barely move. I can't even more my head from side to side. I think about calling for help, but I can't muster the strength to open my mouth. In the end, I stare at the ceiling, memorizing the cracks and how they run. A window is open somewhere near. I hear the sounds of a busy street. I hear steps but just keeping my eyes open for all this time is an effort and I'm asleep before I can see who's coming.

When I wake again, there is a fire built in a small hearth in the corner of the room and someone is stopped over it. I try to sit up, but can't muster the strength and gasp from pain. The person stands and rushes over to me. It's a man, a few years my elder, with hazel eyes and messy dark blonde hair.

"So the sleeping beauty wakes." He says in that strange accent.

"W-Who are you?" I stammer.

"Cameron Russel. American physician. You're one lucky girl. They must've been so sure you were dead, they left you for the body collector. But not everyone is a Cameron. Managed to pull you out of the muck, pull out that bullet, and patch you up. Still, wouldn't have made a difference if you're little heart didn't keep beating like it did. I must say, Miss... Miss..."

"Eponine." My name feels jumbled and weird in my mouth.

"Miss Eponine. I must say that you're a fighter if I've ever seen one, even for a women."

I roll my eyes, allowing myself lay back down in the old bed. A thin layer of warmth has rested around me and I let myself indulge in its sweet embrace. Cameron disappears for a moment and reappears, holding a wooden bowl, its contents steaming. I don't hesitate, I cram as much of the warm soup as I can into my mouth, so fast that I barely taste it. Cameron goes on talking, about the weather, about how miraculously strong my heart is. It's comforting, his babble, it brings me back down to earth. Until...

"Wait," I say. "What was that?"

"Oh, the revolutionaries." He says. "It was about a week ago that they started that whole ruckus, I believe, at the funeral of some politician, a Lamarque fellow. Nasty business, all of them were slaughtered by the military. I'm a little surprised you don't know about it, considering-"

"Wait!" I shout, stopping him mid-sentence. "All of them? Every single one of them is... Is dead?"

"Y-Yes." Cameron says hesitantly. "I believe so. Why?"

But I can't find the strength in me to form sentences. I can't find the strength to hold onto the bowl, so I let that drop onto the floor. I lay myself back down onto the bed, curl up into myself, and begin to weep. Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly... Each of them is gone. But none of this compares with the explosion in my chest that is Marius. It was enough to die in his arms, only to be revived by some strange American doctor, but now, now... Now life has taken Marius out of the world. Marius, the only one who was truly good, who truly has some light in him.

He is gone. And I don't know if I can forgive the world for that.

I begin shaking and then I feel Cameron's hands on me, his voice saying, "Eponine, Eponine, let go! You're tearing your bandages. You must let them be, or you'll never heal."

I never want to heal, I think fiercely as hot tears pour leaves filmy tracks down my cheeks. I never want to live again. You took that from me, Monsieur Cameron. I chose to die. And now, even that choice has been stolen from me.