Enough For Always

by Yun Min

She's only a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday when she meets him. Until then she'd been focused on just staying alive, daring to dream of the day that her and Gavroche might get out. He's a warm calm to her cold fire, but she can't afford to want him. It'll only end badly for all of them.

A/N: Hey guys! First off, some minor trigger warnings for some violence, and mentions of abuse and alcoholism. Secondly, I would highly advise reading this fic on Archive of our own, because it is illustrated, and you are kinda missing out here. There are links in my profile. I would highly advise joining the site, as it is my go-to and I find that it is a much friendlier site to use; but I will still continue to mirror all my work over here. Enjoy~!

Enough for Always

She's only a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday when she meets him. Until then she'd been focused on just staying alive, daring to dream of the day that her and Gavroche might get out. He's a warm calm to her cold fire, but she can't afford to want him. It'll only end badly for all of them.

She's got Gavroche to thank that they even met. She doesn't need reasons to love her brother more, but if she did, this would be one of them.

They spend as much time out the house as possible. Gav won't do libraries, coffee shops get expensive, loitering is generally frowned upon and he already runs wild enough. She knows she'll never stop that, but she wants to keep him on as close a leash as possible.

When she finds out that the local rec centre runs free sessions after school in an attempt to keep as many kids as possible off the streets, Éponine thanks her lucky stars.

It's mostly staffed by volunteers, a revolving crew who pass in and out as it suits them, students and retirees and workers using their voluntary service days. Some are people with expertise who want to hand it on. Gavroche takes to one volunteer in particular, a curly dark haired university student by the name of Courfeyrac, who takes just as quickly to Gavroche.

For Éponine, it's a chance to catch a breather, knuckle down with homework and essays. It's also a chance to work out what she'd have to do to get custody of Gavroche when she turned eighteen.

-x-

He's easy to miss at first. If Courfeyrac is favoured by the noisy, boisterous children, of which there are plenty, he draws in the quiet, calm, serious ones, those who often look older than their years.

Most of the centre is set up to cater to the boisterous kids; they are the ones who the mission statement is aimed at. However, there is a small corner where there are some desks with pens and paper, and a small shelf of books.

Éponine's looked at the book collection before, it's not impressive. It's the same tat she sees in charity shops all the time, books that have been battered and not cared for. He doesn't seem to mind, smoothing corners down and setting order back into the place.

There's a girl, about six, dark haired, whose favourite place in the world seems to be his lap. If he's there when her crop of school kids arrive, she always approaches him first, clutching his hand and leading him over to the book area, finding a book and presenting it to him. Despite the fact that his natural instinct is to be reserved, he smiles, sits down, not worrying about the squirming child in his lap, and begins to read. He's usually got an audience by the time he finishes, and then there's half a dozen clamours for another one.

He's taken to bringing books in, sometimes – Éponine reckons he probably gets sick of the meagre collection. His voice is always calm and soothing. Some of the kids just curl up on the cushions and drift off into a place of half sleep that Éponine recognises. She's done it herself, when the world is too much and finally there is a place where it feels safe.

He'll stay most of the afternoon, usually departing with Courfeyrac. Occasionally they are joined by a lithe boy with a head of golden curls, who doesn't seem to care for the children. He does have something to do with helping the centre run and stay funded, though, so Éponine tolerates his existence.

"Combeferre," Gavroche supplies. Éponine looks at him in confusion. "It's his name. You were staring."

Éponine shakes her head. She definitely wasn't, and if she was, she didn't need her brother knowing.

-x-

She'd been warned that this year would be stressful, but she wasn't expecting it to be quite this bad. She had no idea how she'd be coping with UCAS applications as well, even though that was finished now. English coursework is due in three weeks, and while her draft had been fair, there were half a dozen things that needed revising.

So it was back to the books, back to burying herself in post-colonial theory. It seemed like a preposterous thing to study at undergrad level, let alone sixth form. Thank the lord that History is currently covering ground that she remembered from GCSE.

She needs to bring it in, focus her work. And yet, at the same time, her paragraph on amnesia has been highlighted. You talk about classical references earlier. How does the reliance on the classical fit with their proclamations of the inevitability of amnesia? the note reads. Which was interesting, but required going over the texts all over again. She buried herself in Walcott's Selected Poems looking for amnesia references outside the teacher's picks.

"Take down the love letters from the bookshelf / the photographs, the desperate notes."

"Peel your own image from the mirror," Éponine finishes the quote, remembering Walcott's Love After Love. "You know, that's not included in this book," she says.

"It is by Walcott, though?" It's Combeferre, rubbing a hand nervously against the back of his neck.

Éponine takes him in, sandy off swept hair and rolled up shirt sleeves. For someone who exuded calm most of the time, he isn't right now. She smiles at him. "Yes. It's one of my favourites actually." She kicks the chair leg of the chair across from her, pushing it out as a sign for him to sit down.

He pulls the chair out, settling his six foot frame into it. "If I asked if you were reading for fun, would that be an idiotic question?"

"Reading for fun?" Éponine scoffs at the concept. "English coursework due in three weeks, and my teacher wants a redraft of the latter half, shifting the focus. Only I have no idea what he wants and I've reached the point that I just can't focus on any of the material anymore."

"What's your focus?" he asks, looking serious.

Éponine raises an eyebrow. "Portrayal and exploration of the themes home/roots within Friel's Translations Achebe's Things Fall Apart and the poetry of Derek Walcott."

"I can't say I know much about it," Combeferre says. "I've heard of Achebe, who's Friel?"

Éponine cocks her head, wondering if this boy with cool grey eyes is for real. "You can't possibly be interested."

"Why not?" he asks, just as serious as he's been this entire conversation.

"Because I've got to study the guy, and I'm not interested."

"You said you were stuck. Sometimes re-evaluating things can help. Teaching someone else can be the best way to learn something," he says.

Éponine pauses, pursing her lips. "Haven't you got other things to do?"

"Lucille isn't here today." Combeferre refers to the dark haired girl who commands is attention most days he's here. "And everyone else is taking advantage of the sunshine. Courfeyrac seems to have it under control, and I'd rather not be mocked for my inability to shoot a football on target quite yet."

"It can't be that bad." Éponine lets her imagination wander, and pictures Courfeyrac and her brother teaming up on the Combeferre. She lets out a laugh.

"I'm sure it's quite as bad as you just imagined," he says. He grabs a pen and a sheet of paper from Éponine's pad. "Now come on, I want to be thoroughly educated in whatever this essay is about before Enjolras comes and interrogates me about the impact of NHS reforms."

Éponine does so, and though she doesn't think that Combeferre gets it, she gets it much better by the end of it, so she guesses he was right.

-x-

Lucille is back the next time Combeferre is. Éponine allows herself to be distracted by him, watching him closely for the first time. She has work to do though, so she can't focus on him for too long.

Gavroche, luckily, was not watching, because otherwise he'd have mocked Éponine endlessly about the glances that she would give him every time she got stuck.

When he finally manages to disentangle himself from the children, he approaches her, just as bashful as the first time.

"I've got this friend, Jehan, he's our resident poetry expert," Combeferre explains. Éponine wonders just quite how strange Combeferre's friends are that he says this completely deadpan. On the other hand, she's seen Enjolras. "He said something about, what was it, grey-"

He pulls back his sleeve. There's something written on there in sharpie, not in his handwriting. "Grey apparitions at veranda ends / like smoke, divisible, but one / your age is ashes, its coherence gone," he reads. "He said it would help."

Éponine takes a moment to think about it, and then goes, "fuck, Combeferre, that's perfect, I think you've just solved all my problems."

A soft haze of pink colours Combeferre's cheeks, not that Éponine notices; she's scribbling down the lines and the explosion of thought that's happening through her head. "Thank Jehan," he says.

Éponine looks up. "No," she says, quite adamantly. "I don't know him, so I'll thank you."

The flush on Combeferre's face darkens. Éponine likes the look on him.

-x-

He agrees to proofread her essay before she hands it in. It's a small thing but it makes her feel better to know that she's not handing something awful in, seeing as this essay makes up 40% of her grade.

And then it's back to the regular slog of just making it through lessons and of weekend shifts. Of making sure Gavroche eats and stays out of trouble. She hasn't got long until she turns eighteen, and that brings a whole new set of worries. She doubts her parents will support her past that point, not that they do already, and more than that she's concerned about what will happen to Gavroche.

In some ways she's amazed that social services haven't ever picked them up. Especially after Azelma ran away, not that anyone noticed. But her parents have never been abusive, in the strictest sense of the term, never in a way that could be proved beyond reasonable doubt. If they don't get put away Éponine doesn't see the point of telling anyone. She's coped for this long, she can go on coping.

It doesn't make her less stressed though, trying to work out if someone'll come after them if she takes Gavroche, if they should just leave this town behind entirely. How on earth she's going to provide for her and Gavroche. If she'll ever find where Azelma went, two years after she walked off into the night.

Combeferre finds her on the steps of the rec centre, head in her hands. She didn't want to bring this mess inside their walls, didn't want anyone enquiring too closely into what she was doing.

He sits down beside her, offering an apple and a crumpet. Éponine takes them, glad that the centre provides food and thankful that Combeferre has brought her some.

"Exams?" he asks.

Éponine nods her head, because that's part of it, even if it's not the whole story.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Sit them for me?" she jokes.

"I don't think you want me sitting your English exam, given that I can't even name what it's on," Combeferre replies. "What else do you take?"

"Maths, History and French."

"I can do the Maths, I should be able to remember it from two years ago," he says. "Enjolras speaks fluent French, if you want someone to practice with. What period of History?"

Éponine is a bit dazed at his offer of help. "Germany 1900 – 45."

"I could probably do that to."

-x-

She doesn't expect his offer of help to be serious. But then his blonde haired god of a friend approaches her, pulling out a chair from where she's working, and goes, "'Ferre says you need help with your French exam."

"Does he now?"

Éponine can understand what makes Enjolras enthralling, but can't say she's ever fallen under his spell. She doesn't like asking for help. Combeferre has never offered her to it like that. This is different and it makes her profoundly uncomfortable.

"If you don't need it, I have other things to be doing." The blonde is almost on his feet again.

"Like what?"

Éponine knows its a bad idea to provoke him, but she can't help it, not when she's never seen him doing anything. He's not like Courfeyrac or Combeferre or the other students who help out around the place.

She can tell that he's getting ready to yell a million things at her, but Combeferre appears at the door. Enjolras just balls his hands into fists and takes a deep breath.

Éponine raises an eyebrow.

Enjolras sits back in his seat. "That was the wrong way to start things." It's not quite an apology, but Éponine reckons it's the closest thing she's going to get. He babbles something off in French which she manages to catch half the words of, but the rest is a mystery.

"The best way to learn is to practice," he says, and Éponine recognises it as a loose translation of what he just said. "Now, what French masterpiece have you been given?" he asks.

Studying with Enjolras isn't enjoyable by any sense of the word, and he doesn't do anything that's particularly classed as teaching. He's awful at dealing with the children who come up and ask what they're doing. But Éponine learns more French than she has in any lesson that year. And Enjolras comes away impressed enough to ask her to come to one of the meetings of their group, Les Amis de l'ABC.

She gets the pun, if only because Enjolras had made her read through a manifesto regarding the 1832 rebellion.

-x-

She's not convinced she wants to go. But as soon as Courfeyrac and Gavroche get wind of it, they're dashing off and Éponine resigns herself to following. She's walked past the café Musain before, of course, but she's never been in. It doesn't seem like it would fit a girl like her.

The elderly proprietor greets Combeferre warmly, asking "if he's arrived to calm these boys down." The boy smiles, as she pushes a tray over to him. Éponine hovers beside him, not quite sure what she's supposed to be doing. She can't see the others anywhere, but Combeferre seems to know what he's doing.

"And this must be Éponine," she adds. Éponine looks up in surprise. "Courfeyrac had a small boy in tow. He proclaimed that the marvellous miss Éponine would be joining them this evening."

"It'd be good for them, those boys are in desperate need of some feminine energy." A dark haired woman in an apron – Éponine presumes waitress – chimes in. "Apologies 'Ferre."

Combeferre waves her off with an easy familiarity. "You are right as always, Musichetta. How is everyone today?"

"Bossuet had a nasty trip earlier, and Joly's fretting, but otherwise everyone's good. Aire's only had one glass, as far as I know."

"That won't last," Combeferre says in a resigned way, like he's used to it. He picks up the tray full of cups, signalling for Éponine to follow him.

He leads her through a door to the café's back room. Enjolras is the centre of attention, not that that's surprising. The guy with his arm in a sling is likely the aforementioned Bossuet, while the fair boy sitting besides him is probably Joly.

She sees Courfeyrac and her brother off at the side. A boy with auburn hair braided in a complicated way which Éponine's not even sure she could manage is beside them. Gavroche is lured towards the hulk of a man who sits across from them.

A man with ginger curls is next to Enjolras, engaged in conversation with him. As much as one ever engages in conversation with Enjolras; Éponine suspects he doesn't fully know the meaning of the word.

Enjolras stops speaking when he sees Combeferre, and Combeferre distributes drinks around. Éponine finds herself with a cup of coffee just the way she likes it, and surmises that Gavroche has something to do with it. She settles beside a dark haired man with thick curls, pulling out Pope's The Rape of the Lock which she's still struggling through. While she's here, she might as well get some reading done.

Enjolras is a remarkably fluent public speaker, engaging with their small crowd as if it was one much larger. Éponine thinks she'd be interested in what he had to say – even if she didn't agree with it – if only she didn't have half a million other things to be doing first. The boy beside her scoffs at half his points. This quickly devolves into an argument, which only ends when Combeferre steps between the pair and physically holds them back from each other.

"I promise this isn't how it usually goes," he says to Éponine, who has abandoned her book in favour of watching the theatrics with a wry smile.

"Who you kidding 'Ferre, this is how it always goes," the dark haired one with the curls replies. "Grantaire, call me R." He offers out a paint covered hand, and Éponine shakes it warily.

"Éponine," she says back. She turns to Combeferre. "Is there a bet on for the number of awful french puns one group can have, because I want in."

Combeferre groans. Grantaire smiles. "Oh, I like you."

Éponine looks at Combeferre. "So, everyone else?" Her inflection indicates the question.

"He didn't introduce you to everyone?" Grantaire smiles with glee.

Combeferre fiddles with his glasses. "I was going to," he mutters, but Grantaire's off.

"Our illustrious leader, Apollo, needs no introduction of course. The ginger one currently in discussion with him is Feuilly. The giant who your brother is currently using as a climbing frame is Bahorel." Éponine's eyes dart to make sure that her brother is okay, but he's sitting atop said giant's shoulders with no problems. "Bossuet is the unluckiest man alive, which is why Joly is currently fretting over him. But then it takes very little to make him fret – you did have your tetanus booster, right?" Éponine frowns as she doesn't think she ever did, but it seems pointless to mention. "And, of course, the lovely Jean Prouvaire."

The auburn boy has chosen this moment to flounce – there's no better word for it – over to them. "You can call me Jehan," he says. Éponine observes the flower in the lapel of his blazer. "Are you the reason Combeferre suddenly started taking an interest in poetry?"

"Veranda saved my bacon," Éponine says.

Jehan then latches on to her book with an excited exclamation of "Pope!" and asking Éponine how she enjoys the classical metaphors.

Grantaire notices the slight blush on Combeferre's cheeks, elbowing him softly in the sides. "You've got it bad man," he mutters.

"Like you're one to talk," Combeferre replies, glancing over at Enjolras.

-x-

The meeting's drawing to a close – or at least, it would be if Éponine had anything to do with it. She tries to subtly hint at going home, but Gavroche doesn't want any part in it, and Courfeyrac is a horrible enabler.

She gathers up the boys' mugs, plates, Grantaire's bottles and balances them on the tray which Combeferre used earlier. She then returns them to Madame Hucheloup at the counter. The front room is bereft of guests.

"Let me guess; Enjolras is still arguing," the old woman says as Éponine settles the tray down.

"I think they all are," Éponine replies.

"Business as usual," she replies. "None of them have any respect for my weary old bones."

Éponine's not sure quite how to respond to that. "I can try and shift them?"

"Don't bother, they'll move when they're quite ready. Eventually Combeferre will notice the time." She busies herself behind the counter, moving the mugs towards the back. "In the mean time I'll just try my best to get this mess sorted. 's'not like I don't already have enough to do." She eyes Éponine. "I don't suppose you need a job? I'm in need of a new waitress, personally."

Éponine shifts, wary of the offer. She needs a job, desperately. The Café Musain seems a much nicer place than the scuzzy bar she picks up shifts in, or helping Montparnasse out on jobs. "I suppose so, yes."

The woman's eyes light up. "Here, write your name and number down, and we can sort out a schedule tomorrow."

Éponine grabs the pen and scrawls her details on the pad next to the till. "Don't you want to interview me first?"

"Those boys never bring their cups out. Ever. You've already made this evening easier. And besides, Combeferre brought you. If there was ever a sensible one amongst that lot, he's it."

-x-

Éponine accepts Madame Hucheloup at face value, at first. She's too busy dragging Gavroche home and then evading questions on where they've been.

But she thinks about it, the next morning, after talking to her, and decides it's all too convenient. That Mrs. H just happens to need a new waitress just as she desperately needs a new job.

It annoys Éponine. Combeferre's late – she supposes that these boys do actually have other things to do, they are all students – but all it does is allow herself to slowly fume. Marius and Cosette both picked up on her awful mood and avoided her – but they do that most of the time anyway, these days. Éponine being too focused on everything and they just don't get it.

Combeferre walks through the door and Éponine can see Lucille waiting to pounce. Éponine gets there first, fingers griped firm around his wrist. She takes a moment to think about how fine and elegant his wrists are, before shaking her head and telling herself concentrate goddamnit. He finds himself being dragged into a private corner, with Éponine fuming.

"Now listen." Éponine jabs a finger in his face and Combeferre is still wondering what on earth this is about. "I don't need charity. Not from you, not from your friends, not ever, got it mister?"

Combeferre cocks his head, as comprehension slowly dawns over his face. "This is about the job at the Musain, isn't it? That wasn't charity, Éponine. It's legitimate. Mrs H genuinely needed a new waitress. You need a job. She's not one to hire simply out of the goodness of her heart."

Éponine has to admit that. But the she latches on to the rest of what he said. "Wait. Who said I need a job? I don't."

Combeferre looks down at her, hearing her blatant lie. "Gavroche. I think he worries about you."

"I don't need him to. I don't need any of you guys to." Éponine folds her arms against her chest, not caring about the obviously defensive gesture.

Combeferre fidgets, tapping long fingers against his sides as he figures out what to say. "I don't want to pry, but is everything alright at home?"

Éponine gapes at him open mouthed for a second. Her features settle into anger. "That, right there, is the very definition of prying and you know it. I don't need anything from you guys. Not at all. Not your tutoring, not your job offers, not your fucking charity," she screams.

Combeferre runs a hand through his hair. "It's not charity." He's not as loud as Éponine, but his voice is raised, with an irate tone it doesn't usually carry. "Charity would be allowing Courf to buy all the things he wants for Gavroche. Charity would be using some of the blackmail material we have on Enjolras's father to get a cash settlement out of him and giving it to you. Charity would be persuading the firm Bahorel interns at the take whatever case you might have against your parents on because it's clear that something is fucking wrong there."

He's louder when he finishes, but then stands stone cold, like he's still processing what he said. Éponine just stares. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean," all falls out of his mouth.

"Save it," Éponine says curtly. "I can't believe you." She walks off. Combeferre moves to follow her, watching as she catches Gavroche and picks up his stuff, with a curt word of "we're leaving." Gavroche seems genuinely confused, but he follows his sister regardless.

Courfeyrac jogs up to Combeferre's side, noting the shell shocked look on his friend's face. "Dude, what on earth did you do?"

Combeferre gives a quick glance around to check that there are no children in earshot, before replying. "I fucked up, Courf."

-x-

The thing is, as pissed as she is at Combeferre and the rest of them, he's right. She needs that job, and explaining that she had an argument with the Amis is easier than she expects it to be. Mrs H reassigns her shifts with 'Chetta taking the changes with a surprising grace. They're even happy to let Gavroche loiter as long as he is quiet.

Éponine doesn't know quite who does it – whether 'Chetta has persuaded them on it or it was Mrs H's doing – but the boys avoid the Musain for the next week. She fits into the café easily. Mrs H has no problem with her doing her own work behind the counter in the quiet periods.

But her birthday draws ever closer. She hasn't heard her parents discuss much, but she's concerned. She's bee looking at apartments, but there isn't much around. Everything in the city is geared towards student houseshares or families, not an eighteen year old girl looking after her brother. Trying to work out what she might be able to afford is difficult. Montparnasse keeps her share of the cash separate. It's a countermeasure so that her parents can't get at it, but it means 'Parnasse will have to be let into the plan; whatever the plan might be.

It's nine days on from her argument with Combeferre when she sees the students slink back into the Musain. Mrs H gives her a wave, indicating that she'll take care of them. Gavroche runs to Courfeyrac when he sees him, getting swept up by the boy and placed on his shoulders. Éponine decides it's not worth the argument with him to stop him.

Éponine's wiping the counter down when the door to the back room opens, so she doesn't notice Enjolras come out and stand patiently by the counter. When she spots him, she almost drops the cloth in surprise. "You're the one Combeferre sent out to make his apologies?" Her tone is incredulous.

"'Ferre didn't send me to do anything," Enjolras replies.

"Oh because none of your minions would dare ask anything of their precious leader?" She can't help it, Enjolras just rubs her the wrong way.

Enjolras looks befuddled, but it's clear that whatever he wants to say is more important than his pride. "Look, 'Ferre didn't mean half the things he said, at least not in the way you clearly interpreted them. He's a good guy."

Éponine doesn't believe for a moment that Enjolras has thought this up entirely on his own. "I don't doubt it." And the thing is she really doesn't. But she doesn't want – can't want – a guy like Combeferre looking out for her. "And you just want us to make up so you can have your coffee shop back. Where have you held your precious meetings this week?"

"My half-sister's adoptive father has a large dining room he graciously lent to us."

Éponine doesn't even want to start to think about the messed up family dynamics that statement managed to imply. "And can't you guys just stay there?"

"He has issues with me apparently indoctrinating my sister to the cause. And her boyfriend's an imbecile." Éponine considers that to Enjolras, almost everyone is an imbecile, but she decides not to say anything.

"Well, if it would make you happy, I suppose you can come back. Doesn't mean I'm going to talk to him though."

"I never said I wanted that."

-x-

Easter holidays approach rapidly. With it comes revision, panicking about French oral exams, and the dreaded event itself; her birthday. Most of the Amis seem to be sticking around for the break as well.

Éponine's been avoiding the rec centre, even though Gavroche hasn't. She drops him off after picking him up from school, and then she goes to the Musain. Even if she doesn't have a shift, as Mrs H is quite happy to just let her work quietly in a corner. Courfeyrac'll then bring Gavroche by later in the evening, often accompanied by Combeferre. Éponine ignores him as best she can, and Courf doesn't challenge the fragile truce in place.

She's been running minor cons with Montparnasse, who is now fully aware of her plan to get her and Gavroche out. For the record, he reckons it's an awful idea and can't for the life of him work out why she'd want to leave. Luckily he also recognises her autonomy and her wish for a better life for her brother.

Her money pot is slowly growing, and she reckons she might actually have enough to put a deposit down and maybe a couple of months up front. There's only like six weeks left of sixth form before she's done with school and Mrs H seems willing to give her more shifts over the summer months. In some moments, Éponine dares to let herself believe that she'll actually get her and Gav out.

(she doesn't think about the job at the Musain and all the help the boys have given her and the occasional reference sheet of important French vocab or the fact that her copies of School for Scandal and The Rape of the Lock have been highlighted and annotated and how much Combeferre and his boys have actually done for her.)

Her parents have made little mention of her upcoming birthday. Éponine wonders if they even remember, but it's not like she's pressing to remind them. She doesn't want anything from them, nothing but the freedom to live her life that should be hers by default. On the other hand, something has changed.

She and Gavroche (and Azelma when she was still around) used to be left to run as free as they pleased. But now her parents seem to want to know where they are, night and day. Éponine becomes reliant on having Montparnasse cover for her.

Her parents beckon her over when she's home, wanting to know her opinion on a possible break in, how best to fence their latest con. She answers to the best of her ability. She's good at being a criminal, it's never been that that makes her want to leave, but this level of involvement has never been demanded of her.

A possible place to stay lands in her lap one day, when a harried man in his mid twenties comes into the Musain and asks if he can pin an advertisement up on the board. Éponine checks it, as she's supposed to, and finds that he wants to sublet his apartment for the rest of the school year as his PhD has called him away elsewhere.

She asks him about it, how much space there is, noting that on the ad he's indicated an 'office space'. He explains about the tiny box room which he uses as an office, but agrees that it could be turned into a bedroom, albeit a tiny one. He doesn't even seem apprehensive about letting Éponine and Gavroche stay there, which is a massive relief.

He invites her over to see the place. Éponine struggles to find time, but Mrs H allows her to finish one of her shifts early so she doesn't have to elude her parents. The flat is small, but it's in good nick. Éponine can imagine living there, it's close enough to Gavroche's school and the Musain to not take them out of their way. The student doesn't really know what to make of Gavroche, but doesn't object, which is all that Éponine needs.

He leaves the week Éponine goes back to school, eight days after her birthday. All she has to do is manage until then.

-x-

It's all going well. She's managing, Gavroche is staying out of trouble, they're working out what they can take from the house that won't be missed and how they'll get everything out.

But then it all goes wrong.

Éponine's suspected that something was up ever since her parents have started believing she had an opinion in the last couple of weeks. It's Montparnasse who finally tips her to the possibility of an initiation ritual for her eighteenth birthday.

It doesn't bug her at first, she's pulled enough stunts over her time. Initiation can't be worse than that. Eight days later and she and Gav will be clear.

The day before her birthday her father pulls her into his office (his term, Éponine considers it a disgraceful shack of a room) and hands her a folder. She recognises the Patron-Minette insignia on the front. That's her first clue, that this is going to be a bigger job.

"First big solo job." Her father sounds enthusiastic about the idea. "You better bring in a decent hall, my girl, it's an easy one."

Éponine nods as she opens the file.

There's a set of photos and some background information. Nothing strikes her as odd as first. Someone else has done primary recon. There's a businessman who is the target. He seems unremarkable.

But then she flicks to the added information. She doesn't recognise the elderly man who comes with a 'possibly dangerous' warning. He's also marked as a valuable additional target. But she does recognise the two blond children whose photographs are attached.

She doesn't quite drop the folder, but her father notices something. "I trust you will have no problem with this? We want five million at least. Preferably more. Your future in this business will rely on it."

"Of course." Her voice is steady and even. She backs steadily out of the office. She'll work this out, somehow.

-x-

She sits in her room and puts the pieces together slowly.

Cosette, the love of Marius's life. Cosette, who he'd seen briefly over summer and lost completely only to turn up to sixth form, see her in the registration lines and then lose her again. Cosette, who was only found when Éponine bumped into her and finally got her name. Cosette, who Éponine now found was the half-sister Enjolras had mentioned.

And then there's something Combeferre said about using some of the blackmail they had on Enjolras's father. She gathers that her main target is not a good guy.

But she has two days to con five million out of these guys, and Éponine can't work out how on earth she's supposed to do it.

The implication of the file is that Enjolras, Cosette, and Cosette's adoptive father are the ones to actually go for. That's where the money will be made. Éponine sinks her head into her hands. She can't, in good conscience, go after any of them, and she doubts that she knows anyone who will lend her the five mill that Patron-Minette want.

Montparnasse eventually sticks his head in, wanting to see what she's been given. She chucks the file at him. He reads it, and even he shakes his head at it. "You're fucked," is all he says. "Unless you want to go for one of these doe eyed angels." He chooses Enjolras's photo to hold up. "Though that's not really your style."

"I know them." Montparnasse raises an eyebrow. "Yep. The girl goes to my school. The boy's a friend of a friend of Gavroche's. He's a dick, she's lovely, but neither of them are good targets. I get the impression that neither of them are on good terms with the father."

"So what?"

Éponine flops backwards. "Fuck if I know. Go after Cosette's adoptive father?" It's a weak suggestion, and it shows in her voice. "I mean, I know there's blackmail material out there on this guy, but I've got two days. No way am I finding it in time."

"You better work something out, or you're going to be done for. As if you weren't before. This plan of yours is stupid, and you know it."

-x-

Twenty four hours later and she's no closer to a solution. She's also running on very little sleep, but that's the least of her concerns right now.

In the back of her head, she's starting to think that Patron-Minette gave her an impossible task on purpose. Gavroche had taken a look, scoffed, and told her she was on her own.

(though he was currently studying floor plans and trying to estimate the worth of the dude's art collection and if they could fence it in time.)

She has a shift at the Musain, and thank god the Amis seem to have steered clear. Well, Bossuet comes in to see Musichetta and tips a tray over and then wrecks a display, but that's about par for the course. He doesn't ask about what's going on in her life.

Afterwards, she wanders along. She stands outside Cosette's house and wonders what on earth could be inside that Patron-Minette want so much. The file makes little sense to Éponine. She's thinking there's a secondary motive, besides the money here, and someone doesn't feel like letting her in on the secret.

In the last twelve hours before she should have a completed con she decides she doesn't care. She's not even going to give them a detailed plan for what they want, which might possibly get her out of this. She has no desire to get involved, and the tiredness in her just says screw the consequences.

She wakes up to her father screaming her name. Not being fully awake, she decides to go and see what he wants.

The warning signs are all there, but Éponine is exhausted. She walks into the room ignoring both Brujon and Babet by the entrance. "Have you done it?" her father asks.

His face is twisted. Éponine reckons he already knows the answer, he's just waiting for Éponine to confirm it. "No," she says. "And I'm not going to."

The last five words are a mistake. Her father's features draw even closer in anger. Éponine reaches for where she often stashes a knife, but realises it's not there. "You had forty-eight hours. It was a perfectly simple job."

It was anything but, but that's not the issue here. "Yes, if you wanted to harm innocent civilians who have never done anything wrong. That girl is my age, father, did you ever think about that?"

Éponine knows she needs to get out of there, pronto, when she sees Claquesous reach for something on his belt. She steps backward, only to find Brujon and Babet trapping her exit. "My girl, sacrifices have to be made. It's to be expected. Play everything right and Patron-Minette will be yours one day. We know you can do it."

"No," she says. Her father slaps her hard across the face, the sound ricocheting round the small room. Éponine balls her hands into fist at her side. Fighting back right now will gain her nothing.

"I will give you twenty-four more hours." He has a vice-grip on her wrist. Éponine is trying to think of ways she might take him down, but there are three other grown men to consider.

"No."

It's becoming a mantra, and she mutters it again under her breath as her father twists her arm behind her back. It's painful, but Éponine tries not to let it show, tries not to think about how easy it would be for her arm to be broken like this.

"Listen to me, girl."

"No." It's loud and defiant. "I won't wreck other people's lives. I want out. Out of this shitty excuse of an existence."

Another slap lands harsh across her face, and someone else is twisting her arm now. "You think this is shit? Girl, what do you think happens to those who try to get out?"

Éponine is forced on to her knees shortly and swiftly. Her arm ends up twisted in such a way that is definitely unnatural. The pain is severe. "Are you so sure you want this?"

Éponine's not afraid for herself. Gavroche is a smart kid, 'Parnasse'll get him out, Courfeyrac will find him some place safe, he'll be taken care of. "Yes."

The first strike lands on her cheekbone, a badly aimed shot to the eye. Soon, she loses track of where the blows are landing. She thinks of the tall, sandy haired boy with the glasses, and whether she should have sucked up her pride and asked him for help.

Mostly, she thinks of how nice it would have been to be nestled up in his arms, to listen to his soft voice read her books and poetry. She focuses in on that idea.

It's a beautiful dream which she's only gone and lost.

-x-

Montparnasse finds her, black and blue, arm twisted at an angle which makes even him wince. Gavroche is close behind. Montparnasse thinks that she wouldn't want him to see her like this, but there's nothing that can be done.

"Anything you had packed to go, that you can carry, get it now. We need to get her out of here, and you won't be welcome back." Gavroche scampers off, and Montparnasse debates the best way to carry her out.

The others have all left, probably to celebrate. At least he doesn't have to avoid them.

She doesn't seem to be bleeding, but the internal damage looks like it could be bad. She's breathing and has a steady pulse, which is a start. She probably needs medical attention, but Montparnasse isn't sure he can risk a hospital.

Gavroche comes back quickly, a holdall slung over his shoulders, a large rucksack on his back, and Éponine's school bag on his side. "That's everything?" Montparnasse asks.

"We'll make do," Gavroche replies. "Is she going to be alright?"

"If we get her out of here quickly, she might be," Montparnasse doesn't do sugar coating, but the reality isn't helpful. "Did you guys have anywhere prepared to go?"

"Not for another week." Gavroche twitches. Montparnasse doesn't like seeing the kid twitchy, it doesn't suit him.

"Is there anywhere else you can think?" Montparnasse asks, whilst he tries to think of a safe place.

"Courfeyrac would take her. Or any of the Amis," Gavroche puts forward.

"Les Amis de l'ABC?" Montparnasse asks, and sees Gavroche's face light up in recognition. "Right. I know where we're going."

-x-

Feuilly doesn't know quite what he expected when he opened the door. Montparnasse holding a badly beaten, unconscious girl while Courfeyrac's young friend trailed behind them was not it.

It's only when one of his housemates calls out, "Feuilly, who's at the door?" that he comes to life.

"What on earth, 'Parnasse?"

"I'll explain later," he answers. "I need to get her inside."

Feuilly moves out the way, allowing Montparnasse in. He swarms into the house like he owns the place, like he always does. The boy follows him, and Feuilly tries to remember his name. "Gavroche," he remembers. "How are you mixed up with 'Parnasse?"

"M'not. Parents are. That's my sister, Éponine, he's got."

Feuilly tosses Gavroche his phone, as he puts a bunch of pieces together. He'd never suspected that Combeferre's Éponine was also 'Parnasse's sometime partner in crime, Éponine Thénadier, but given the name, he perhaps should of. "Get Combeferre over here. Joly too. And Bahorel." All the numbers are in his phone, Gavroche should be able to get hold of them easily.

He needs to make sure Montparnasse isn't causing too much of a scene. He's laid Éponine down on the sofa in the living room, and his fingers are resting on her wrist. Feuilly presumes he's checking her pulse.

"'Parnasse, she should be at a hospital," Feuilly says as he kneels down. One of his housemates is in the kitchen looking on with morbid curiosity, but thankfully doesn't ask what's going on.

"Too many questions." Montparnasse smooths Éponine's hair back, and Feuilly is surprised. "She deserves the right to choose."

"Only if Combeferre and Joly agree to it," Feuilly replies. He's concerned about her arm, which he knows shouldn't be bent like that. It needs to be properly set. "I'll get some ice."

-x-

Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras arrive first. Courfeyrac sweeps Gavroche up the moment he sees him, bringing the slightest bit of cheer to the boys face. Combeferre immediately goes to Éponine's side, while Enjolras hangs back.

It doesn't take long for Joly to turn up, either, with Bossuet in tow, and then shortly after that Bahorel makes an appearance. Joly and Combeferre mutter in hushed tones about Éponine's condition, while Feuilly hovers with the ice. Montparnasse has drawn back, and is almost looking like he's planning a hasty exit.

Enjolras watches as Combeferre checks her over. He knows they haven't spoken since their argument, even if they had called a truce, and that it has pained his friend severely, but he can't say he understands it. There's a tenderness to the way he checks her over though, more than he's ever been with anyone else.

Combeferre beckons Bahorel over for a second opinion on her ribs. Joly's checking a bash to her head, trying to check for concussion.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Combeferre declares.

"No way," Montparnasse instantly replies. Combeferre looks at him as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "You take her to a hospital without her say so, and she won't forgive you."

Combeferre blanches. He looks down at Joly. "I'm 90% certain she's bleeding internally."

"Fifteen minutes," Combeferre says. "If she hasn't come round by then, we're taking her anyway. In the meantime, would you like to enlighten us as to what happened."

Feuilly looks between Combeferre and Montparnasse, surprised at the anger which is taking over the usually calm young man's face. He hopes Montparnasse recognises it and has the good grace to be tactful.

Montparnasse doesn't want to talk, though. He stays silent. "'Parnasse," Feuilly says, glancing back to Combeferre who is looking increasingly incendiary. "You said you'd explain later. No one is going to judge you on your involvement."

The others look surprised, but none of them say anything. "Patron-Minette handed her a con for her initiation. Wanted her to scam pretty boy over there's father for ten mill in two days. She refused. They beat her. I found her. We got her out," he says.

Combeferre looks horrified, but he's quickly distracted by a moan of pain from Éponine. He's instantly back at her side. "Éponine, it's Combeferre. No one here is going to hurt you, but we need to get you to a hospital. Montparnasse won't let you go until you agree, so, please, say we can move you."

Éponine's not even capable of opening her eyes, and moans again, presumably from the pain. "I know it hurts," Combeferre continues. "That's why we need to get you help." He takes her hand. "Can you squeeze my hand if you consent to us getting you help?" he asks.

It's faint, but he can feel Éponine's hand tighten round his. "Thank you," he breathes in relief.

-x-

Combeferre and Bahorel end up being the ones who take her to hospital. Bahorel argues with the front desk before they consent to Combeferre accompanying her. Bahorel knows it's only a matter of time before the police turn up. They'll want to know what's happened, and he hopes by then Feuilly will have managed to get some details out of Montparnasse about exactly who did this to Éponine.

Bahorel also knows that if the police do end up interested and involved, there's going to be a horrific fight for custody of Gavroche. Courfeyrac has taken him for now, and Enjolras will have words with his adoptive uncle – who is a registered foster parent – about taking the boy if Éponine is judged unfit.

It's a couple of hours before Bahorel gets the clear to join Combeferre. The boy is sitting in a rough plastic chair beside her bedside, clutching the hand which hasn't been set in a hard cast. He looks exhausted, pale and tired in a way Bahorel has never seen.

"How is she?" he asks.

"She'll be alright," Combeferre answers. "Her ribs are mostly bruised, there's some minor fractures but they're not broken. She's got a nasty spiral fracture on her arm, her shoulder was dislocated, and that'll take weeks to properly heal. They don't think she's bleeding internally, but they want to keep her under observation, and she's horrifically bruised."

"But she'll pull through." Bahorel's endured enough beatings to know that none of those things are life threatening. The girl might be in a lot of pain, but she'll live. "They photographed everything, right?"

Combeferre strokes a thumb over the back of Éponine's hand, even though she wasn't conscious to feel the gesture. "Yes."

"Good. We need it."

Combeferre looks up at Bahorel. "Will the people who did this to her be punished?"

There's doubt in Combeferre's voice, a worrying concern. "It'll depend on what evidence Éponine decides she wants to give. But they should be," Bahorel answers.

"It's one of the things we argued about," Combeferre says, and Bahorel just lets him talk. He's heard bits and pieces about their fight, but he's never given much care to it before. "Whatever her deal was with her parents. However they were abusing her. I told her we could get her help."

Bahorel doesn't think there's much he can say to that, so he just puts his hand on Combeferre's shoulder. Within twenty minutes they're being shepherded out the ward by a nurse, telling them that the patient needs her rest.

-x-

It takes twenty-four hours for Éponine to fully regain consciousness. Combeferre and Gavroche are at her bedside when she does so.

Gavroche delights in telling her all about his sleepover with Courfeyrac. Éponine manages to smile without grimacing too much, but it is clear that she is in some degree of pain. Courf luckily turns up not too much later to take the boy out for football that afternoon, leaving Éponine in peace.

Not that that lasts for long, as Enjolras and Bahorel turn up, intent on trying to hash out the details of exactly what happened. Éponine bears that for approximately sixty seconds before pleading with Combeferre to shut them up.

They do, and after Bahorel gives her some advice about exercises she can do to get back on her feet, he leaves. Enjolras stays, though he doesn't seem to know what to do. He settles for sitting awkwardly in a chair.

"My uncle said he'd take you in," Enjolras says of hand. Combeferre glares at him for trying to engage Éponine in conversation, as she needs her rest. "My half-sister's your age. You'd get on."

"Me and Cosette?" Éponine shakes her head; or the nearest approximation of it she can manage, banged up the way she is. "Nahh, I don't think so."

Enjolras is bemused, racking his brain to think whether he's ever mentioned his sister's name to Éponine. He finally comes up with the only logical conclusion. "You know my sister?"

"We go to the same school, dumbo." Éponine winces in pain, and Combeferre watches her unhappily. She's taken as much pain medication as she can for now, so he knows there's not much he can do about it now.

"Well neither of you has ever mentioned it. You didn't bring it up last time I mentioned it," Enjolras points out.

"Didn't know." Éponine's raspy now, and Combeferre offers her the glass of water sitting on the side. She takes a small sip. "Her photo was in the file. Only knew then."

Feuilly had eventually managed to drag some details about the con out of Montparnasse, but he hadn't given them up willingly. Enjolras hadn't been surprised that his father was a target; heaven knows that he'd been blackmailing his father over a variety of things for years. But he was surprised to learn that Valjean and Cosette had both been included.

"I'm guessing you know Marius then," Combeferre adds.

"He's been my best friend since forever," Éponine replies, though she's not sure how true that holds anymore.

"He's an idiot," Enjolras says.

Éponine thinks about defending him, the long standing crush she had on him rearing it's head, but ultimately she goes for, "yes, yes he is."

-x-

It's two days before they release Éponine from the hospital. Given that she has nowhere else to go, she reluctantly agrees to be put up by Enjolras's adoptive uncle / Cosette's adoptive father. She makes it clear though that she wants to move in to the place she's found as soon as it's ready.

The others are having words about it behind her back, but they're all drawing the same conclusion. Éponine is scary when angered, and that they best not piss her off.

They're all secretly hoping that Valjean will win her round.

Gavroche is delighted with the lofty old house which Valjean and Cosette call home. Valjean gives him the full run of it, and Gavroche is ecstatic. With constant visits by all the boys, Éponine thinks that she's never seen him look happier.

She can't say the same for herself. She doesn't know how much Cosette knows, but she doesn't want to chance explaining everything, so she sticks to her room.

(Valjean, clearly, has been told as much as anyone knew and inferred most of the rest of it correctly, which was unnerving. Especially when his policeman friend had come to visit, trying to talk her into testifying.

Éponine had pointed out what Bahorel had pointed out to her; that although they could prove grievous bodily harm, they couldn't prove who did it. All the Patron-Minette lawyers would do was say that the other did it, planting reasonable doubt. That was, if it ever saw trial.

Javert hadn't taken it well.)

Even though she's now out, there's still so much to do. Her exams aren't going away any time soon. She's got to find Montparnasse to work out what on earth happened to her money. Someone sweet talked Mrs H into keeping her job down at the Musain, but she doesn't know who.

She doesn't want to know. She owes all of these boys too much, already.

Bahorel's sorting out all her legalities, as well as attempting to transfer custody of Gavroche to her. Feuilly's tracking Montparnasse down for her. There's some history there that she doesn't want to know. The one time she'd asked, Feuilly had blushed, and she figured that didn't happen often. Joly kept checking up on her, changing her bandages and reckoning her chances of catching a severe infection. Bossuet, in turn, kept him in check. Enjolras had given her a place to stay, and Courf was taking care of her brother for her while she was otherwise laid up.

Grantaire had turned up in her room with a sketchbook and a bottle of vodka, which he'd placed on her bedside table as an eighteenth birthday present. (It had sat there for fifty-one minutes, before Joly noticed and confiscated it as it wouldn't mix with her painkillers.) He'd doodled all over her cast for her, turning it into a veritable masterpiece that Éponine would be sad to see go.

And then there's Combeferre, who spent all that time at her bedside, who even now is hovering. With the amount of time he spends at her side, Valjean really ought to be charging him rent. He doesn't try to help, he's learnt his lesson on that front, but he keeps a practically constant vigil. It doesn't take long for Éponine to become frustrated and demand that if he's going to sit there, he might as well be useful. She sets him to work reading her english texts to her, seeing as how the pages are rather difficult to turn now she has one arm in a cast.

When he decides she's had enough (and he reminds her, when she protests, that he'll get Joly to back him up on it if she doesn't listen), he'll close the book. They he'll fluff her pillows, make sure she's comfortable with a glass of water on the bedside table, and then they'll talk.

Éponine lets out a lot of things she's never told anyone during that week.

-x-

Éponine goes to inspect the flat she's still planning on renting, in the last weekend of the Easter holidays. Combeferre goes with her, as do Bahorel and Grantaire to do any heavy lifting that might be required.

The student hasn't quite moved out yet, but there are a couple of suitcases in the lounge that indicate that he'll shortly be on his way. He's cleared out that box room, and left it completely bare. Éponine supposes that one of the first things she'll have to do is go get a bed for Gavroche.

It's as she looks at the emptiness of the flat, so different to she'd seen when she first looked round, that it hits her how little she and Gavroche have. How many things they'll need.

She sinks into the sofa. Her one good hand clutches on to the sofa cushions, at least until Combeferre removes it and takes it into his own. "You don't have to move here if it's not what you want," he says, wrapping an arm round her shoulders loosely.

"I want it," Éponine says. She takes a moment to clear her head. "I just never really thought about how much we'd need, anyway, even before we walked out with three bags of stuff."

The student wanders back in at that moment. He seems unplussed at the sight of Éponine and Combeferre on the couch. He also hasn't asked about Éponine's broken arm, or the bruises across her face. "I was thinking, do you want me to put my kitchen stuff in storage? I was going to, but then I thought if this was your first place you probably haven't got it all, and there's no point in it sitting around unused."

Combeferre reckons he's been eavesdropping, and is surprised that Éponine doesn't call him out on it. But she just nods.

"Yo, if we went and got a bed now, would you be alright with us putting it up?" Bahorel sticks a head around the corner to address the student.

"Sure, go ahead," the student replies.

"'Ponine?" Grantaire looks concerned.

"You guys know what he'd want more than I do, go for it," is her response. Knowing these boys, they've got Courf on standby ready to whisk Gavroche around the shops at a seconds notice.

Once they've got a bed in there, there won't be much room for much else. Most of things will end up around the house; their combined clothes won't take up half the wardrobe.

Combeferre's phone vibrates softly, but it still causes Éponine to jump at the sensation. He fishes it out, reading the texts. "Courf and Gavroche have joined Bahorel and 'Aire," Combeferre reads out. "And Feuilly reckons he's finally got hold of Montparnasse. Hopefully that'll mean you get the money he owes you."

"Hopefully," Éponine hums in agreement.

Combeferre taps out a response. "Is it just me, or is there history between those two?"

"I've never heard 'Parnasse mention him before all this, but I reckon so. I mean Gavroche only mentioned Les Amis and suddenly I'm unconscious in Feuilly's living room."

Combeferre smiles; just lightly. The edges of his eyes crinkle slightly, his mouth pulling open, and Éponine's heart almost warms at the sight.

Almost. She's not going soft in her old age now.

-x-

Éponine has an argument with Valjean about her going back to school on Sunday evening. He believes that she needs to go, there is still material to be covered, she will be missed if she doesn't attend. Éponine says she'd rather wait for her bruises to heal, seeing as how there are already going to be enough awkward questions about her broken arm that she doesn't want to answer. Combeferre has set out a beautiful revision timetable for her, though Éponine doesn't see how she's even going to sit her exams with her arm in this state.

(Combeferre's revision timetable also seems to leave far too little time for the others to study for their own exams which Éponine knows are impending.)

In the end, it's Cosette – who most totally has not been listening, thank you very much – to step in. She volunteers to make sure Éponine has notes and homework brought to her. She also points out that there are scribes for exams, extra time and provisions for the circumstances Éponine has found herself in. Valjean relents, muttering something about how she better rest if she's set on sitting her exams and taking care of Gavroche.

Éponine just nods. She cares little, as long as everyone at school isn't whispering and the teachers aren't debating in the staff room whose turn it is to call social services and ask that they investigate.

Combeferre though, isn't kidding when he set up a revision timetable, complete with tutoring. Enjolras takes French, as the only fluent speaker, though Éponine is learning that many of the others are passable in it as well. Combeferre takes her history course, guiding her through the confusing political circles of Germany in the nineteen twenties.

Jehan takes English, though Grantaire shows up as a moderating influence. He reminds Jehan that Éponine's exam doesn't involve a single trace of the Romantic poets. Grantaire turns out to be better at making Éponine get it than Jehan is, delighting in the witty spite of Sheridan and Othello becomes a source of bitter argument for them all.

(Éponine forgives Grantaire all the stupid things he has to say on Othello and Desdemona's relationship when he compares Pope's Belinda to Enjolras. God does it make the poem easier to remember when she can picture Enjolras self righteous over a cut lock of his golden hair.)

Éponine spends most of her time fretting over mathematics, which has always been her weakest subject. Despite Combeferre saying he can remember it from two years ago, he has no talent for explaining mathematical concepts in a way she can understand. She's despairing over it early on in her week off when Courfeyrac pops in with a calculator in hand and some ridiculous line about being her one and only saviour that Éponine has already wiped clean from her mind.

She thinks back to what she said to Combeferre about charity. But Éponine did some thinking, lying in that hospital bed. While she still isn't ever going to accept charity, she's realised there's a difference between charity and a bit of honest help when she needs it.

Besides, the Amis are all vicious task masters. Studying with them is not an enjoyable experience. (Grantaire and Jehan aside, though Grantaire likes to proof read her English, French, and History work and then tear it to shreds, so that's not always true.) Enjolras has made it his personal cause to make sure she passes French with flying colours, and with it means absorbing more French vocab than she's ever done before in her life.

In short, charity isn't the word anyone would use to describe what they're doing for her. Friendship, however, now that comes close.

-x-

She and Gavroche move into their new flat on Thursday. There's nothing much ceremonious about it. Bahorel, the only one among them with a car, picked them up from Valjean's with their four bags of stuff (Valjean and Cosette had donated some things), packed them in, driven them over, and then helped carry everything in. It took them one trip up the flight of stairs.

She's planning a quiet evening; read, trying to get Gavroche to do his homework and then sitting down to her own revision. It almost looks like it might work until Courfeyrac bounds through her front door, cake in hand, and Éponine gives up hope of getting Gavroche to do anything that night.

Combeferre and Enjolras follow. Combeferre has Chinese in hand, and hands it to her as a peace offering.

"Is this it, or am I waiting on all of you to descend?" Éponine asks as she tries to remember which drawer it is the utensils were left in, and even if there were enough utensils for five people.

Combeferre's routing through cupboards for plates, and Éponine knows he's not going to find five full sized plates. "This is it," he confirms. He pulls out three full sized plates, what Éponine thinks might be a pasta bowl, and a cereal bowl proclaiming a love for Aston Villa.

Courf can eat out of that, in revenge.

Gavroche and Courfeyrac chatter a mile a minute about something or other as they eat, while Éponine tries to subtly push more vegetables into Gavroche's bowl and Combeferre pushes things which she can eat one handed onto hers. Enjolras perches himself at the side of the kitchen, with a plate of noodles he really doesn't seem interested in and a book that he very much is.

Courfeyrac then cuts the cake and no one bothers with plates for that. When they've finished, Courf reveals a playstation he'd carted over in his rucksack and he and Gavroche run off to the living room to play.

Éponine starts tidying the mess up, binning empty cartons and putting plates in the sink. Combeferre forcibly removes the book from Enjolras's hands and makes him finish the plate of food he has in front of him.

And when he finishes, Combeferre takes the plate from him, pausing to whisper something in his ear. (Éponine notes the way Combeferre curls his fingers around Enjolras's arm, the way Enjolras leans into Combeferre's touch and she feels jealous. She's sure that they're just friends, but at moment like these they don't look it.) He then takes the tea towel from Éponine.

Enjolras grabs his book, taking from it an envelope that he was using as a bookmark and passes it to Éponine.

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he just says "open it."

She slits the envelope open carefully. She's not quite sure what's in it; it's too skinny to be the money she's owed from Montparnasse in notes, yet too bulky to be a cheque.

She's a little surprised to find a bank statement in there, but goes with it, pulling it out with a bunch of other assorted paperwork. Her eyes glance down to the number, which is higher than she expected, but not unreasonably so. "Feuilly got Montparnasse to pay up?"

"He believes that's fair recompense for what you've done for Montparnasse over the years," Enjolras says. Éponine's not looking up, else she'd see the uncharacteristic smile on his face.

She's flipping through the rest of the paperwork, things on opening the account, how to get at the money, terms and conditions, an odd one on how best to invest your money, and a 'congratulations on your new savings account' which she ignores as well. All until she reaches the last sheet of paper, another bank statement. Her eyes widen, before glancing up to check the name on the account, before her mouth drops open. "Holy shit."

Enjolras smiles wider, and Combeferre turns to look at what's happening between them.

"What the hell is this?" Éponine demands. "I told you I didn't want this, not any of it, this is certainly fucking charity." She directs this at Combeferre, who just looks confused at her accusations.

"Donation from my father," Enjolras says. "It should see you and Gavroche through university. That's it. An investment in your future. We told him about the possibility of a heist and he tightened his security and two days ago a failed break in happened. That's a fraction of the money which he might have lost." Éponine still looks unconvinced. "You saw some of his accounts, this is very little money to him. If it makes you feel better, he also matched it with a donation to the rec centre."

Combeferre is looking over Éponine's shoulder in an attempt to work out exactly what his best friend is talking about. "Put it away as a rainy day fund," he suggests. "Don't think about it. You might not want it now, but it'd be nice to have."

Éponine looks round at him with wide eyes, and Combeferre notes that they're not just wide with shock, but fear. "I'll put the kettle on," he says. "Enj, I do wish you'd tell me before pulling stunts like this. Joly would freak if he saw his patient like this."

Enjolras at least has the decency to look chastised. "Combeferre is probably right." Éponine thinks she hears Combeferre say as always under his breath, but he's too busy finding cups and Éponine's non-existent tea supply to speak up. "Don't think about it. You've got a lot of other things on your mind. When are the French Oral's anyway?"

Combeferre sinks his head in his hand, before crying out in victory having found Mr. PhD students hidden teabag stash. In the moment of silence between them that follows, they can hear the kettle boil and Gavroche cheering in the next room. He seems to be beating Courfeyrac at whatever game they're playing.

-x-

She goes back to school on Monday. She gets some odd looks, but it's not as bad as she feared. An art student even comes up to her asking about the so called beautiful design work on her cast. Her teachers all take her aside to ask if she needs any extra help in preparing for her exams. She tells them all, in more polite terms, to fuck off. She has her own personal tutor for all her studying needs.

Marius and Cosette stick to her like glue during breaks and lunch (though they don't share any free periods, thank goodness). Éponine won't admit it, but she's glad of the help. Mostly because of her arm, but the company is nice as well.

Even if Marius does spend a lot of time fretting over exams despite the fact that he's had unconditional offers from practically everywhere he applied to because he is a linguistic genius despite the fact that he's an idiot at every thing else.

The languages department is in a frenzy. Cosette, who had the good sense not to take a language, is amused by the sudden stress of impending practical exams. She spends her time watching Marius blabber under his breath in four different languages.

Éponine is up before Marius. She's stressed out of her mind, but there are good luck texts from practically every single one of the Amis on her phone before she goes in. She reads Combeferre's four times, glowing a little bit at his praise and faith in her.

She doesn't like to talk herself up, but she blew away the examiner. Her teacher who is sitting in the back of the room is stunned and smiling to herself when the exam is over.

She walks out of the exam happy, throwing a smile Marius's way. He's sitting in the waiting area looking petrified. Éponine makes her way out of the double doors of the languages block to where Cosette said she would be waiting.

Éponine spots not one but two heads of golden hair waiting for her, but doesn't have time to reflect on it. Cosette barrels into her with a hug, going "how did it go how did it go?" as she clutches tight.

Éponine wraps one arm around her friend in response; the one in the cast hangs loosely at her side. "It went great, I think I totally passed it!" And Cosette squeals out excitedly, and then pulls Enjolras into the hug as well. He's even more reluctant than Éponine to participate, but Cosette's enthusiasm makes up for it.

Eventually Cosette releases them both, and they fall back onto the bench where Cosette and Enjolras were originally waiting. "See, I told you it would be fine," Cosette says. "Especially with Enjy here helping you out."

There's disgust on Enjolras's face about the nickname, but he doesn't call his half-sister out on it. "Your brother is a task master and a half, Cosette." Cosette laughs openly, whacking Enjolras lightly on the shoulder.

Enjolras is about to make Cosette pay for actions, Éponine is sure, when a dazed Marius Pontmercy walks out the doors. Cosette is distracted as she runs up to him and pulls him into a tight hug.

"I still can't believe you two are related," Éponine says to Enjolras.

"We tested paternity and it was argued in open court. We're related."

Cosette brings Marius back, and Éponine supposes she should give Marius some support, but Cosette has launched in with "you remember my brother, Enjolras." The pale look on Marius's face means that yes, he does remember Enjolras.

"Christ, what the hell did he do to you?" Éponine finds herself saying.

"You know each other?" Marius stammers out.

"I did tell you I thought he was an idiot, right?" Enjolras comments.

It's Cosette who takes pity on Marius and explains everything, but by the time the lunch bell goes he still doesn't look any happier about the situation. By that point, Enjolras is twitchy, wanting to move on. Cosette notices and lets him go, but not before he pulls Éponine aside.

"You're coming to the Musain later, yes?" Enjolras asks.

"Of course," Éponine replies. Mrs. H has given her the next six weeks off while exams are on and her arm is out of commission. But that doesn't mean she won't relish the opportunity to go and sit with the Amis for a couple of hours.

"Combeferre said he'd drop by your place this afternoon with some things," Enjolras adds. "He'd be here now, only he had an important lecture to attend."

"And you don't?"

"Unfortunately not, and someone gave Cosette a copy of my schedule." Enjolras looks rather put out, and Éponine decides to find out whoever it was that did that so she can congratulate them. "You did well though, and that's good, and I'm sure everyone else will congratulate you much better than I can later." He looks almost pained to say it, but he's right.

"Give yourself twelve per cent of the credit, Enj, you earned it."

Enjolras doesn't seem to get it, but he smiles a bit at Éponine choosing to use Combeferre's nickname over Cosette's.

-x-

It's the night before her history exam, the first of her formal exams (three Maths, two French and an English to follow) and she's panicking.

It's stupid, she knows that, but she can't get past the fact that she just doesn't know enough and she has two essays to write tomorrow in the space of two hours and who on earth ever decided this was a good idea?

Combeferre has been remarkably patient with her, as she flicks through her textbook and the revision cards they made. Right now, he's sitting on her sofa calmly quizzing her on the events that led up to the first world war.

"Zabern affair," he starts.

"1913, crisis over Alsace Lorraine," Éponine answers. "Derogatory remarks made by a German soldier escalated into a conflict of power with the Kaiser. He insisted that it was a military matter. It ended in the Reichstag issuing a vote of no-confidence against Bethman-Hollweg, which was ignored."

"And what's the impact?"

"It shows the lack of power held by the Reichstag. Whilst they could vote they had no power with which to affect change."

"Good," Combeferre smiles. He slides that card back into the stack, even though he doesn't need to be reading them. "Political parties pre 1918?"

Éponine takes a moment before counting them out on her fingers. "SPD, Centre, Conservatives, Free Conservatives." She pauses. "Two liberal parties, I think?"

"National Liberals and Liberal Progressives," Combeferre answers. "Not that you need to know, really, the likelihood of them wanting party analysis before 1918 are slim. What about after?"

"KPD, USPD, SPD, Centre, DDP, DVP, DNVP, NSDAP." Éponine sighs. "Can we skip the explanations on what they all stand for, because it's in the back of my head and I can't be bothered to pull it out?"

"Of course." Combeferre sets the revision cards down on the table, then moves to pull the closed textbook out of Éponine's hand. "We should probably stop, none of this is going into your head. You should be focusing on getting a good nights rest so you can do the exam properly." Éponine waves her one good hand. "I'm going to go make us hot chocolate, and you are going to relax."

He places a hand on her shoulder as he gets up, and Éponine leans into his touch for a moment. And then he's gone, and Éponine lays herself down on the sofa, running her hand through her hair. She manages to stay still for about a moment, before sitting back up and leaning over to grab the revision cards.

Combeferre comes back clutching two mugs and tuts softly as he sees her. "Propaganda, again, Éponine, really?"

"Grantaire tore my essay to shreds," she says, trying to explain herself.

"He tore every one of your essays to shreds," Combeferre replies. "And propaganda is a sore spot with him." He places the mugs down on the coffee table, and then takes the card of Éponine, placing it with the others. He then moves it across the other side of the room, far out of Éponine's reach. "Drink up." He pushes Éponine's mug towards her, before settling back on the sofa with his own.

Éponine eyes her mug warily, but doesn't reach for it. "What if I fail?" It's little more than a whisper, but Combeferre turns towards her anyway. "What if my mind just goes blank?"

"It's won't." Combeferre says it with such certainty that Éponine can almost let herself believe it. "Éponine, you know this stuff, I know you do." He's brushing a hand over the back of his neck, trying to find words to convince her. "You're going to do amazingly, you've got extra time, you aren't going to fail."

Éponine watches him, sweet and earnest, trying his very hardest to reassure her that she can do it. That means more to her than his words do; the very fact that he's trying to help her is worth more than she can say. He's looking at her, smiling softly, with those cool grey eyes focusing solely on her.

She smiles back at him, because she can't find the words to say what she wants to him, doesn't know what she wants to say, how to explain how her heart beats faster when he's around her and yet she feels the safest she has in years with him. He realises that she's not going to say anything, and simply says, "drink up, and then we're going to get you to bed."

He knows how to talk to her, how to handle her moods, knows what she needs better than she does. It's scary, sometimes, having someone who can do that for her. It's reassuring to see him with Enjolras sometimes, to know that it's just Combeferre, that it's just what he does.

She grabs the mug off the coffee table, slipping a hand through the handle, and then leans into Combeferre. He stiffens slightly, not expecting it, but then slips an arm loosely round her and lets her sink into his side. She sips at the hot chocolate, relishing its sweet warmth.

When she drains it, he leans forward to take it from her grasp. She watches him, the way his hands curl around the mug, his hair falling in his eyes. "Well done," he says, his breath whispering past her ear as he speaks. "Now for that good nights sleep."

Éponine just leans back into Combeferre, relishing his warmth. "In your bed, would be best," he prompts. Éponine mutters a response under her breath. Combeferre presses a hand into her shoulder, trying to rouse her. She blinks her eyes open, turns her head to speak to him.

Her breath goes short as she takes in how close he is. She becomes aware of the line of his chest against her back, his hand against her shoulder, the warmth of his embrace. Before she's aware of what's happening, she's leaning up to close the gap.

He leans down to meet her, initiating a soft kiss. It lasts only moments before they pull apart from the awkwardness of the angle. Éponine turns her body into his and then kisses him again, tasting the sweet hot chocolate from his lips, running her tongue across the entrance of his mouth to just get more of that taste. The hand he had on her shoulder slides up to cup her jawline, while she grasps wildly with her one good hand, trying to bring him closer. It settles on the back of his neck, her fingers curling into the short ends of his hair. All she wants is to be close to him, breathe him in, and from the way he licks at the roof of her mouth and pulls her in tight he feels the same way.

He is the one to break the kiss, breathing heavily. Éponine turns her head into the crook of his neck, burying contentedly there. Knowing that she's already half asleep, he wraps his arms around her and picks her up. She weighs practically nothing as he carries her from the sofa to her bedroom. He tucks her into bed like the well practised elder brother that he is, only his sisters never grab his hand and whisper stay to him.

Powerless to resist her, he runs a hand through her hair and whispers an affirmative yes in her ear. She curls up on one side of the bed, leaving an obvious hole for him. He flicks the lightswitch off, places his glasses on the bedside table, and slips into the space she's left for him, curling an arm around her.

-x-

He's still there the next morning, wrapped around her as they wake up to her alarm. He goes to wake Gavroche as she quickly showers and gets dressed. Gavroche tries to not smirk too badly as Combeferre stands in the kitchen pouring bowls of cereal.

Éponine stumbles into the kitchen looking only half awake with damp hair pulled roughly back into a ponytail. Combeferre thrusts a mug of coffee at her and Éponine doesn't even complain at eating out of the Aston Villa bowl. He washes up breakfast bowls while Gavroche runs round trying to work out what he's done with his school jumper until Éponine chucks it at him.

Eventually they're ready to leave, Combeferre clutching Gavroche's bookbag. Gavroche sprints ahead until they reach the corner at which their paths diverge. He gives his sister a tight hug, and a shouted good luck.

"I'll make sure he gets there alright," Combeferre says. She steps into him, wrapping her arms around him. "You're going to do amazingly today, I just know it, just think of everything we practised." She nods silently into his shirt, and he kisses the top of her head softly before letting her go.

Combeferre doesn't quite know how to describe the look that Gavroche gives him as they walk off in the opposite direction. The kid is far too with it for his own good, that's for sure.

He also makes a note to himself to talk to Courf before Gavroche manages to, or he'll never hear the end of it.

-x-

It being a Friday, everyone ends up gathered in the back room of the Musain. Mrs H asks about how much longer Éponine's cast will be on, muttering about how she's lost her most popular waitress. Musichetta chuckles along with that as she fills glasses with ice.

Marius and Cosette have come as well. Marius looks exceedingly nervous when they are introduced, but everyone is amused when Cosette bounds over to Enjolras and greets him with kisses on his cheeks. Éponine settles in to her usual place beside Grantaire, as Enjolras attempts to call the meeting to order. He's a fool if he thinks it's going to work, but he's trying anyway.

He's speaking about the recent announce of a fall in unemployment. Yet, despite this the unemployment rate is still too high. He spends some time arguing that the youth unemployment rate is especially high, but no one is paying attention.

Éponine and Grantaire are playing their new favourite game, quoting Rape of the Lock at each other as they try to find a quote that fits Enjolras the best. Grantaire, in turn, has taken to doodling Enjolras as Belinda, with her trademark gold curls flowing from Enjolras's head. Who knew what would happen if Enjolras ever saw the drawings.

"To arms, to arms, our fierce Virago cries," Éponine says as Enjolras launches into another tirade.

"And swift as lightening to the combate flies," Grantaire adds. "Because that's going to happen with all of us so busy with exams.

Jehan slides up to them, adding, "I see our Enjolras burns with more than mortal ire."

Grantaire chuckles. "He does rather. I wonder, if like Belinda, I can be Ariel and spy an earthly lover lurking at his heart?"

"Enjolras has a heart?" Éponine quips, even though she knows that he does. She's seen it, but when he's up there, speaking, all fiery passion and a fierce godliness it seems hard to see.

Grantaire sinks on the table. "Why, oh why does he have to be so enchanting?" Jehan and Éponine exchange glances, used to Grantaire's melodrama with his crush.

"The rest of us are not going to touch that question with a barge pole," Éponine answers. She swipes the bottle of beer which Grantaire is drinking out of from under him, contemplating taking a drink out of it. Combeferre appears and suddenly swipes it from her hand.

"No Alcohol with your meds, you know that," he says as she pouts at him. "And I know you had them this morning, you can't get away with telling me you didn't."

Éponine bats her eyelashes at him. "Wasn't going to try."

"I will send Joly over here," Combeferre replies.

"That's cruel," Éponine says. "What are you even doing over here anyway?"

"Enjolras has finally realised that the idea of an actual meeting tonight was idiocy and given up." Combeferre looks over to the corner where Enjolras has sat down. "He could probably use some entertaining though-"

"Say no more, I'm sure there's something we haven't violently disagreed on yet," Grantaire says, grabbing his bottle from where it's been resting on the table. Jehan also decides that he has better things to do, leaving Combeferre and Éponine alone in the corner.

Combeferre settles into one of the chairs, pulling it closer to Éponine. "How'd it go today, anyway?"

"Good," Éponine answers. "Decent questions, I got it all down, I think I aced it, and now I'd rather not think about it until results day."

"I think that's the best strategy." Éponine looks at Combeferre under the dim light of the Musain. His grey eyes are clear and striking as always, and the light has settled in such a way as to showcase the longer parts of his hair.

He's close enough that she can lay her head on his shoulder relatively comfortably, so she does so. Combeferre shifts so she can nuzzle closer. He lifts a hand to play with the ends of her hair, as she closes her eyes and just breathes in his scent.

From here he's got a vantage point where he can see the rest of their friends quite well. Cosette has found a home between Jehan and Feuilly, Jehan playing with her waves of golden hair. Marius has been taken under Courfeyrac's wing, while Gavroche is sitting on Bahorel's shoulders as a game of cards goes on in that corner. Bossuet is losing, as per usual, but Combeferre thinks that might have something to do with Gavroche being able to see both his and Joly's cards. Enjolras and Grantaire are quietly debating in their corner, faces displaying disagreement with each other but not to an extent that Combeferre feels that he has to go over and interfere.

Instead he can concentrate on the small slip of a girl who's curled herself into his side. The one who's carved out such a hole in Combeferre's life that he doesn't know what he'd do without her. She's near sleep on his shoulder, breath slowed and calm. He takes in all the sheets of paper that are bursting out of her bag, the revision cards that sit on the table next to her glass, and knows that she's been working too hard.

He lets her slumber for about fifteen minutes before realising that if he doesn't move her now, she's never going to get home. He wakes her quietly, telling her to gather her things. He speaks quickly to Courfeyrac about what's happening to Gavroche, who promises to make sure their youngest makes it home alright.

They leave arm in arm.

-x-

Combeferre intends to just walk her home and leave her at her door, honestly, he does. But now, standing at the door to her flat, her fingers laced with his, he doesn't feel like going at all.

Luckily she seems to feel the same way, leading him into her small flat. "Do you want anything?" she asks quietly. She's more awake after their walk in the brisk night air, but Combeferre suspects she'll crash again soon.

"I'm alright," he says, but sees her head into the kitchen anyway. "Though if you are putting the kettle on-"

"Make sure there's enough for two?" Éponine smiles.

"Yeah," Combeferre replies softly. He can hear Éponine doing so, the clacking of mugs in the kitchen as she finds the things they need. He ends up leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching the petite girl move around the kitchen, her long hair swishing as she does so.

She hums as the kettle boils. She looks up when it clicks off, pouring water into both mugs. She stirs them well, little fingers gripping the spoon – Combeferre thinks she must be making hot chocolate.

"Stop staring," she says, suddenly turning round on him.

Combeferre can't help the smile he gives. "Sorry." He waves his hand in apology as he watches Éponine brandishing the spoon. "You're just very distracting, you know."

That makes Éponine freeze. Combeferre thinks that he can see a hint of dark flush colour her cheeks but he won't mention it. "You don't mean that."

"I do." Combeferre's reply is in the same calm tone he always uses, his utter seriousness coming through. The thing with Combeferre, and it's one of the things which Éponine likes, is that he doesn't say things he doesn't mean, really. "Éponine, you're beautiful. You are smart and oh so determined and headstrong sometimes but you are amazing."

She ducks her head. He moves towards her, gently bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. When she leans into his touch, just gently, he tips her head up so she's looking at him. She averts her gaze at first, but Combeferre brushes a thumb over her cheekbone, and asks "Éponine, please look at me." She turns her gaze back on him, hazel eyes which don't quite match the rest of her but serve to make her unique. There are so many things he wants to say to her, but he can't put any of them into words and staring at her he can't help but blurt out "Can I kiss you?"

She looks at him oddly; Combeferre assumes she's probably thinking back on last night, about the kisses they have already shared. She nods anyway, letting out a small yes.

He leans forward, kissing her softly. Her hands clutch in his shirt, pulling him in closer than he intended. He intends to keep it chaste, but Éponine has other ideas, opening her mouth up and teasing her tongue against his lips. She tastes different to last night, when both of them had the sweet hot chocolate lingering in their mouths; now she is more bitter, darker, a harsh edge to her that Combeferre is not averse to at all. He chases the taste eagerly, hands tangling in her hair as he holds her close.

She smiles as they pull apart, her lips damp. Combeferre has to restrain himself from kissing her again, but she's looking at him with a similar fascination.

"I liked that," Éponine says. Her smile's got a hint of wickedness in it, like she wants to tease Combeferre, but he's caught onto it.

"Just don't fall asleep on me this time," he jokes. Éponine plunges herself down into his chest as she recollects the previous night.

"I'm still not quite sure that what parts of that were a dream," Éponine says.

"We could have a reenactment?" Combeferre suggests, and Éponine shakes her head into his chest. Her arms have snaked their way tightly round his back now, the line of her cast hard but Combeferre doesn't mind. He smiles down at her, kissing the top of her head. "I like you."

He guides her down, sitting her in a chair and placing the mug she made earlier in front of her. Luckily, it's still warm. "I really like you," he says. Éponine notes him running his hand across the back of his neck, his nervous tell. "God, I don't know how to explain it," he continues. "I don't know how you feel and I would never presume too, ever, but Éponine, I want to be with you. I want to always be able to be by your side, to show you all the love you deserve. When I woke up this morning, with you in my arms-" He chokes on the words, trying to find them. "You are the most beautiful thing to wake up to. I'd like to do it again."

There's something in watching Combeferre scrabble for the words to say, given that he is usually so calm and always armed with the right words when they are necessary. Éponine doesn't know if she can say anything to him; vocalising how she feels about him makes it all the more real. Though she's got to come to terms with the fact that this is a thing, it's happening, there is nothing she can do about it.

She reaches her hand out, entwining her fingers with Combeferre's. He looks up in almost surprise, allowing a smile to cross his face. "I like you too," Éponine gets out. It's nothing compared to Combeferre's declaration of feelings but it's a lot for her. The widening of his smile and the hope that lights in his eyes is enough to confirm that she made the right decision in voicing her feelings.

-x-

They don't tell everyone at once, though everyone pretty much guesses. If someone was taking bets on it, well they kept it surprisingly quiet.

Gavroche, though, when Combeferre and Éponine sit down to tell him, lets out an "I knew it!" He gives them the worse smirk and then leaps out to the rest of the Musain saying "I told you so I told you so."

Éponine despairs for a moment, but Combeferre just laughs as he watches Courfeyrac scoop up the kid. Later, Gavroche demands credit for their relationship, and they have to give it to him.

(That, itself, sparks an entire debate. Courf then protests that Combeferre would never have even been at the rec centre in the first place if it wasn't for him. Grantaire leaps to advocate for Enjolras's part in the proceedings. Everyone else laughs off the fact that Enjolras could ever take credit for starting a relationship when he remains so oblivious to Grantaire's feelings.

Feuilly doesn't point out the fact that without Montparnasse Éponine could well be dead. That without Cosette and Valjean she'd be in a much worse place, because those people were there to rescue her when she needed it. Therefore there is nothing to say on the subject.)

They aren't the most intuitive match; Éponine with her harsh edges and insecurities; Combeferre with his quiet intent and focus and philosophical mind. But they work and they make each other happy. He makes her feel safe, while she makes him feel alive.

And they have the rest of their lives in front of them.