Motto: Our lives are not our own, from womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. (Cloud Atlas)
This is my first Les Mis fic. I have never really shipped characters who never talk to each other in canon, but I've stumbled on couple of Enjolras/Éponine fics and fell in love with those two. I personally think that their relationship would be much more interesting than Marius/Cosette.
Please, review, I'm happy for any feedback. I am not a native English speaker, so feel free to point out any grammar mistakes you find.
Anyway, to the story itself. It's a what-if alternative universe, based mostly on the 2012 movie, but I might add hints from the book or different adaptations. It begins during Éponine's On My Own. But what if someone found her in the rain? What if she weren't an invisible person at the barricade? What would happen, if someone saw her and stopped her?
1. One Day More
The letter in her hand felt heavy like a stone. A love letter from Cosette, the skinny little thing her mother used to bully, to Marius, the only man who had ever been kind to her. A goodbye letter, as Cosette was leaving the very next day. A letter that was never meant to be in her hand.
She had seen Marius all excited, but there had been still a little hope. Éponine hoped that Cosette would not return his feeling. She could be engaged, about to enter a convent, or simply not interested. Marius would have been heartbroken, of course, but Éponine would have been there to comfort him and maybe, just maybe...
She was daydreaming again. She could see Marius beside her, weeping at first, but then looking at her and, for the very first time, actually seeing her. A kiss in the rain, a small wedding, and a couple of years later children. They would have a boy, a little scamp like Gavroche with Marius' freckles. And a little girl. Éponine would buy her a blue hat like the one she used to wear in the times when she was the lucky one and Cosette was the other girl.
A distant neighing of a horse woke her up and reality hit her again. Cosette loved Marius back and he was either going to find her and stay with her forever, or die in the revolution tomorrow. Éponine was on her own. There was no Marius for her, no freckled boy, no blue hat for her girl. Only the rain.
Éponine collapsed on the ground in tears.
Enjolras had been on edge ever since Marius started what Grantaire called "ooh and aah". He had a revolution to lead and he didn't have time to worry about broken hearts. And more importantly he needed Marius to come to his senses. If he got cold feet because of some pretty eyes, who know how many other boys would remember somebody who was more important than the freedom.
He watched his friends for a moment. They were all smiling, their eyes shining, and every now and then someone started a cheerful song. Flags, cockades, guns, and bottles of wine were passed around. A world is about to dawn, he thought, when someone breathed on his ear. Enjolras winced, pulled away slightly and turned around. Grantaire was grinning at him, clutching his wine, and Enjolras had to wonder again what interest did this man have in revolution.
"Danse macabre," Grantaire said, pointing to Jean Prouvaire, who grabbed some girl and tried to waltz to a march.
Dance of Death. Enjolras felt chill running down his spine. For how many of them was this morning going to be their last? Maybe they were all going to die... Marius. The head full of his girl can be full of bullets tomorrow. Grantaire. The red stain on his shirt is wine today. Tomorrow it can be blood. Combeferre. The voice that is talking about philosophy today can be screaming in pain tomorrow. Courfeyrac. The eyes that are moving from one person to another, trying to absorb and memorize every detail, can stare at the sky blankly before the sun sets tomorrow.
Tomorrow...
Suddenly he couldn't breathe. The café was full of people and even though Enjolras was more or less the center of the rebellion, it wasn't too hard to slip outside. Only when he was standing on the street he realized that it was raining. He welcomed it. He started walking and remembered the day he had sneaked out during a storm to see where the ducks hide from the rain. The old memory made him smile. He had been about ten and he had come home sneezing. His mother had told him he's going to catch his death of cold.
It's not going to be cold, mother, he thought.
He didn't know how long he had been walking when he noticed someone in the shadow. First he thought it was a policeman, but those didn't usually cower in a puddle of water. Enjolras came closer and when the person looked up, he saw a girl. She looked miserable and her face was somehow familiar, so he asked:
"Are you all right, mademoiselle?"
A nearby window opened and in the light he could see her better. The wetness on her cheeks was not all rain. Something finally clicked to place and he remembered where he knew her from.
"I know you. You're the girl who's following Marius around, aren't you? Eveline, right?"
"Éponine. And you're Enjolras, the leader of Les Amies de l'ABC. I've heard your speeches," she said.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Don't you have a home?"
She smiled bitterly. "Not really. Don't worry about me, monsieur. Go fight for freedom."
No more poor girls like this after tomorrow, he thought, but something was telling him that poverty wasn't the reason behind her tears. Still, she didn't look like she wanted his help, so he got up.
He made a few steps in the direction he came from, but he paused. He didn't even know why.
"Did you like them?" he said. "My speeches?"
"There was a lot of passion in them," she replied. "You have heart."
He turned to face her, disbelief and anger silencing his compassion. "That's all? Passion? If people follow, that can be the future of France! No more hunger, no more parasites feeding on us, no more slavery! Don't you believe that tomorrow can be better?"
Tomorrow... A little voice in his head repeated this word and it sounded suspiciously like Grantaire.
Éponine got up and walked to him. Her dress was clinging to her and it showed how thin she really was. Her hair was sticking to her face, but Enjolras noticed that she stopped crying.
"I believe that you're all going to die," she said. "Tomorrow."
The sentence left him speechless, something that didn't happen to Enjolras very often. His brain seemed to dissolve in the rain as Éponine came closer.
"But everybody has to die someday. Tomorrow is as good as any other day," she added and Enjolras was sure she wasn't talking about him and his friends any more.
"For France?" he asked.
She shook her head. "For him."
And suddenly Enjolras understood her perfectly, like she understood him. Without thinking he held out his hand and she took it. For a moment their fingers intertwined in the rain.
"Vive Marius Pontmercy," he whispered softly.
"Vive la France," she answered.
She left Enjolras in the rain and went home. It wasn't the first time she dressed as a boy, her father's scams sometimes required a handsome boy, a role Thérnandier himself couldn't pull off.
Éponine, she know her way around, they used to say about her and it was true.
But that was over. She was going to the barricade. Maybe she would to fall side by side with Marius. Maybe Enjolras was right after all and they would do win freedom of France. But then she remembered his face in the rain and she wasn't so sure.
She thought of freckles and a blue hat and wanted to cry again, but she didn't. Instead she walked to the place where most of the students were going to be.
The street in front of Café Musaine was full of people. Marius and Enjolras were standing in the window and they both looked like kings. Marius looked sad, but ready, and so handsome. She felt like she could watch him for hours, but her eyes wandered to Enjolras. She was too far to see him properly, but he seemed calm. Maybe he too was happy to have Marius by his side, she knew they were good friends.
Then he noticed her and their eyes met over the crowd. She mouthed vive la France and he smiled a little.
Maybe dying for freedom was the best thing they could hope for. Or maybe the best thing was dying for freedom together. Because what was there to live for?
The first rays of sun painted the dirty windows on the top floors gold. The day was dawning, tomorrow became today, and it was time to go.