Title: A Thoughtful and Gentle Farewell to an Unhappy Soul
Author: Camberleigh Fauconbridge
Rating: PG - 13 / T
Pairings: Enjonine [Éponine/Enjolras], established Montponine [Éponine/Montparnasse], Mosette [Marius/Cosette], established Jolichetta [Musichetta/Joly]
Summary: We all know the June Rebellion of 1832 against the July Monarchy did not end well, by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps, if a revolution occurred in a twenty-first century Paris, things might turn out the same way— or perhaps very differently. Modern day AU. Éponine/Enjolras, Éponine/Montparnasse, Marius/Cosette.
Disclaimer: Les Misérables and its musical counterpart are the property of Victor Hugo, Cameron Mackintosh, Claude-Michel Schönberg, Alain Boublil, Herbert Kretzmer, Trevor Nunn, John Caird, all of the casts and all of the creative teams that have produced any production of Les Misérables.
Author's Note: Okay, if you really want to go into details, the "University of Paris" does not exist anymore. The main characters in this technically attend the Pantheon-Sorbonne University.
Chapter Two
Éponine sat in her darkened room, reading the email on the computer screen. She was exhausted from finishing another shift in the restaurant, but she couldn't ignore the email from the University of Paris.
Dear Éponine Thénardier,
We are excited to announce you have been accepted into the University of Paris! Your acceptance packet will be in the mail soon...
Éponine sighed and closed the email. She clicked on another email sent from the university about dorm rooms. Her roommates were listed:
Euphrasie Fauchelevant, born in Paris, raised in Montreuil-sur-Mer, currently lives in Paris. Freshman, majoring in Vocal Performance.
Musichetta Isabeau, born and raised in Paris. Junior, majoring in Fashion Merchandizing.
Adèlaïde Desnoyers, born and raised in Marseille. Junior, majoring in Political Science and Law.
Euphrasie, Musichetta, and Adèlaïde. They sounded vain and self-centered. But she chastened herself; she couldn't form an opinion based on names.
The door opened quietly, and Éponine turned to see Azelma in the doorway. Éponine sometimes called her sixteen-year-old sister little sparrow, because of Azelma's small frame, quiet nature, and her ability to flit from one place to the next without being seen. The sisters had used that ability to their advantage more than once over the years.
"Azelma, it's eleven thirty. I thought you were in bed."
"I couldn't sleep..."
Éponine sighed and got up, leading Azelma to her bed. Even though they were only two years apart, sometimes it felt as though it was ten. "Was it a nightmare again?" she asked gently.
"No, I was just thinking about... how you're leaving tomorrow. And the next time we'll see you is at Christmas."
"Azelma, I'll come home for..." Armistice Day was the only holiday she could think of, but she wouldn't be home for that.
"There aren't any other holidays, I checked on maman's calendar. That's five months before you come home."
"Thorough, are we? I'll come home, 'Zelma, I promise. I'll beat off all the boys from school and tell Papa to clean his gun when any of them come over." They both knew that realistically their father wouldn't care if Azelma had a boyfriend, but it was the thought that counted.
Azelma giggled, but grew sober. "You know there aren't any boys from school who would do that, 'Ponine."
Here were Azelma's insecurities surfacing again. Éponine only hoped it came from being a teenager full of hormones, and nothing more sinister. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from Azelma's forehead. "Of course there are. You'll meet a boy at a dance and he'll sweep you off your feet, and you'll look back on this conversation and say, 'you were right, 'Ponine." Éponine kissed the top of Azelma's head. "All right, it's almost midnight, little sparrow. Go back to bed."
Azelma sighed, disappointed, but obediently went to the door. "'Night, 'Ponine."
"'Night, 'Zelma."
Why was that Éponine felt she was more of a mother to Azelma that their own flesh-and-blood mother?
Éponine helped her father load the last of her suitcases into the waiting taxi. The rest of her family— her mother, Azelma, and her little brother Gavroche (though he would most likely object if called little)— stood on the sidewalk.
"You'll call every so often to tell us how you're doing, right, Éponine?" Mme. Thénardier asked.
"Yes, maman. I'll call and email and I won't talk to strangers and I'll look before crossing the street..."
"Oh, now you're just being sarcastic." Still, her mother managed to say without being gruff: "Be safe, 'Ponine."
"I will, maman."
Gavroche, instead of tackling her with a hug like he used to, only went over to her and said, "Have fun, 'Ponine." He was at the stage where he was embarrassed by any show of affection, like most boys his age.
"Surely you won't die of humiliation if we hug, 'Vroche."
"Don't call me 'Vroche, 'Ponine! That was when—"
"When you were young, right. You're still young, Gavroche."
"No, I'm not—"
"I love you, too, 'Vroche," she said, deliberately teasing him. Gavroche scowled but hugged her quickly, all the same, before backing away so no one saw him hug his sister.
Azelma started crying when she hugged Éponine.
"Azelma, please don't cry, it won't help anything..."
"But you're leaving! For five months!"
"Azelma, it's all right. You won't even notice I'm gone."
"'Ponine!"
Clearly, Éponine's efforts hadn't helped."Just remember what I told you last night, little sparrow," she added. Azelma wiped at her eyes and nodded as Éponine turned to face her father.
"Don't spend all your money in the first month, Éponine."
"I won't, papa."
"Keep up with your studies. It'd be nice to have an extra pair of hands in the restaurant even if you did flunk, but we'd still have to keep your room instead of renting it out."
"I won't flunk, I promise."
"Good."
Then her father looked over at his wife and his other children, and drew Éponine slightly aside. He spoke quietly. "And I don't want to hear about any funny business while you're off, Éponine. No getting knocked up, no failing an exam because of a hangover."
Éponine jerked her arm out of her father's hold. "Do you really think I would do any of those things?"
"I never know with you, girl. Your boyfriend's living in Paris, so I can't know for certain if you'll come back pregnant or not."
"Montparnasse would never— do you honestly think I'm not—"
Her father's expression was unreadable. "Just use your head, girl."
"I will, papa."
Before she could get truly angry, her father stepped away and shut the trunk of the taxi. "You're all set, 'Ponine." Éponine got into the backseat amidst farewells and promises to call and email, and the taxi drove away.