Hello my loyal rebels!I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting so long. I went to see Les Mis for the first time in London this weekend and I was blown away. I hadn't seen the stage version because I didn't want to spoil it for myself and I have to admit, I'm liking the stage version a little more than the film. The film made me sad, but the stage version made me cry. Just Enjolras' body on that barricade and Gavroche's death and... *sigh* Little Cosette was so small. I think she was younger than eight and she wasn't there at the end so she must have gone home to go to sleep. :) Javert got the biggest clap for "Stars". He hadn't even finished and people were clapping. God everyone was amazing.
But anyway, I'm getting carried away. I was listening to "Good Morning" from "Singing in the Rain" while typing this so I had the weirdest fantasy of Russell Crowe, Samantha Barks and Eddie Redmayne doing the musical number *imagines all three tap dancing together and starts to laugh hysterically*
Enjoy. This was a little shorter than I wanted it to be, but I knew I couldn't leave you guys waiting much longer. You don't deserve to be kept waiting. I'm trying so hard to keep on top of it all. Review my lovelies :) x
Javert didn't look back as he ducked his head down and trudged down the Parisian streets, his cold eyes staring only at the wet pavement, the streaks of light from the street blinding his vision for a few seconds, then his eyes adjusted again to the darkness. The only sound that could be heard was the crunch of his shoes against the pavement and his heavy breathing. Javert blocked all of the thoughts of what had just happened out of his mind and trudged on until he reached where he had planned to go. The Seine River.
He wasn't sure why he had walked all the way here. Jumping wouldn't help anyone. What would be the reason for it, because Eponine was pregnant? Javert was not foolish enough to end his life because he was to become a grandfather. Grandfather. Javert went over this word in his mind until it didn't seem to even be a word anymore. Grandfathers were always sat in an armchair by the fire and let children sit on his knee while he smoked a pipe and read them stories. Javert did none of these things. Although now fifty two, Javert was still the most feared inspector in Paris. He lived at his desk and drowned himself in convict papers, not story books. He had forced himself to get through a few fairy stories as Eponine was a child, but Javert thought that he should be violently sick if he had to put up with another picture of a glowing cherub or dainty little women sat on toadstools and other such nonsense.
Javert sighed as he looked over the edge of the bridge. The water moved peacefully in miniature waves and made a satisfying noise as the lapped over one another. Javert closed his eyes and remembered the time he had brought Eponine here when she was eight.
"Don't let me fall!" Eponine squealed, gripping onto her father's arm. As Javert looked into those fear-stricken hazel eyes, he didn't have the heart to pretend to let go of her and decided to just do as she asked of him.
"It was your idea, anyway!" Javert smiled as she gulped guiltily and gripped tightly onto his jacket. Her feet stumbled and hesitated slightly as she put one in front of each other, her free arm waving about violently as she tried to balance on the narrow ledge. Javert watched as the sunlight was covered by her head, her dark ringlets blowing in the fierce wind, purple skirts fluttering behind her and the rose pink ribbon at the back of her head crinkling and intertwining with each other. Her thick lashes beat furiously, like butterfly wings, her thin eyebrows furrowed, and her tongue peeking out from her pink little lips in concentration.
Hastily taking the last step, Javert lifted her before she could cry out and whirled her around, making her squeal in excitement. Laughing, Javert put her down and she dragged him along to race him towards the end on the bridge, not even glancing at the thugs that were eyeing them up and down, which Javert had spotted instantly. It was Thenardier.
It is true when they say that innocence is bliss.
"What if he never comes back? What if he's hurt or…or worse…" Eponine erupted into fresh tears and Amaline hurried over with another cup of tea. Marius sat beside her and constantly made little circles in her back with his index finger. "Love, it's not healthy for you to be so upset. Rest, I'm sure he will be back in an hour or so. It must be a lot for him to take in."
Eponine looked up and smiled, thankful for Marius' calming words and gentle caresses. Taking up his hand, she kissed it gently and collapsed against his chest, Marius stroking her long dark locks. "Don't worry Eponine. He will be home soon. What father is ecstatic about his daughter growing up and losing all of the innocence she has ever had? "
"Mmm." Eponine sounded unsure as she rubbed her stomach with the tips of her fingers.
The door slammed. Eponine stood up first and almost knocked Amaline over, who was carrying another cup of tea. She ran to the hallway with high hopes and, sure enough, there was Javert, standing in his black coat and looking guiltily at Eponine's flushed face. Eponine did not have the courage to step closer, thinking that maybe that he was angry still. Marius joined them, staring at Javert, his fists clenched. Javert paced forward and into the drawing room and both of them followed.
There was silence while Javert went to his drinks cabinet, which he only used in necessary situations, as Eponine had observed, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He downed it in one huge gulp. He breathed, turned to the couple and simply said: "So, have you thought of any names?"
"Eponine, please tell me I raised you better than for you to call your own child Pleasance?"
"And not Mignonette!" Marius added to Javert's tease.
"Will you two stop making fun of me? I think they're very nice names. Very elegant too."
"And what if it's a boy?" Javert declared "Shall you name him after Louis Philippe himself?" They all laughed as Eponine rubbed her stomach lovingly. Javert now realised that Eponine was further on in her pregnancy that he thought. Her stomach stuck out from under her silk skirts rather alarmingly, though she could not be more than six months. Though he thanked God that Eponine had had the sense to cover it up with her shawl earlier that evening, instead of just presenting him with the news outright.
Eponine gently patted Marius' back as they lay under the covers, the softness of the nightwear and the bed sheets comforting Eponine with a nostalgic feeling of laying in her oversized bed in a cotton nightgown. Only, this time, she was led in bed with her husband, and she was with child.
Eponine had woken to a sound that was not strange her. Marius had awoken from one of his nightmares again. It was usually the same one. Marius would be on the barricades again, except there was no one there. They were all dead and he would be walking through their blood on the cold cobbles. He would look up and see Enjolras, his limp body lying where it had fallen, holding the red flag in his lifeless arms. Joly, Combeferre and Courfeyrac lay in their blood, their faces red and fists still grasped hold of a pistol, hair and waistcoats askew. Then Marius would look up and his heart would stop for a few seconds as he saw Grantaire rise in the window, crimson blood running down his face. Enjolras suddenly grabbed hold of the red flag again and struggled to stand, the gaping hole in his chest oozing dark liquid. Joly, Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood too, the pistols swinging beside them. The rest of his friends rose too, staring at him with dead eyes. Marius could hear a drum beat in the distance, and he knew it was not his heart because the beat was slow and sombre and daunting, like a death march. The students walked towards Marius, a few limping and sweating and covered in blood. Enjolras was the first to reach Marius, dragging the crimson flag behind him, pulling it through the rainwater and soaking it in the blood of the dead. "Why, Marius?" Enjolras whimpered "Why are we dead and you are the only one that has lived? What was our sacrifice for?" Grantaire followed close behind, a smashed bottle in his hand. The rest of them crowded around, asking the question over and over again. What disturbed Marius the most was that even little Gavroche had managed to stumble up and started to sob, holding onto his little mimicked flag.
"Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for!" Marius screamed. He would wake, finding that he had startled Eponine from sleep and she would immediately grab hold of his shivering, sweaty body and hold him close to her chest and stroke his copper hair, like a mother soothing her child, as he wept and roared until his voice turned hoarse.
The night would end with Marius mumbling their names over and over again into Eponine's chest. Though she knew she should not even think of it, Eponine could not help but worry about if he would be the same way when the baby was born, or whether he would be even worse.