"Enjolras, you bastard!" A loud voice boomed from the cafe suddenly, breaking through the relative silence. A ripple of shock went through the men and women of the barricade; firstly, because of the sudden disruption, and secondly, because someone had just insulted Enjolras.
Eponine looked up from a discussion with the man in question himself to watch as a student was frogmarched out of the front doors of the Cafe Musian by two of his fellow Amis. While she had not spent a lot of time around the revolutionaries, she had picked up on the general way things were run. No one had ever told her any rules, at least not officially, but she had caught on to many unspoken ones. The first and foremost of these was that you did not insult the leader of the revolution. For any reason. Ever. Enjolras was as much feared as worshiped, a figure who was both fearless and fearsome, often at the same time. The students showed him more respect than anyone Eponine had ever met in her entire life. He was still their friend, of course, but at the same time he was above them - not by his own doing, but by that of the others. He was the leader of the pack.
So naturally, it took an immense amount of either complete stupidity or bravery to say anything derogatory about him, and Eponine was quite curious to see who had done so.
The man looked livid. He was obviously a scholar like most of the others, judging from his age and easy terms with the schoolboys. He certainly looked quite familiar, almost more familiar than the others, for a reason she couldn't put a finger on. But while he was wearing the same expensive, fashionable clothing as his friends, he had a distinctly disheveled air about him; his hair was a matted black mop atop his head, and his shirt and trousers looked like they hadn't been washed in a week. While this could be expected in a time of revolution - many of the others' clothing sported similar wear - where the rest of the Amis' were caked in grime and blood, his just looked plain... dirty. Even Eponine, who had miraculously suffered no injuries in the prior battle, had bloodstains all over from Marius - a crippling pang of sorrow rushed through her at the thought - and those who had been shot around her. It was almost like he hadn't fought in the attack at all.
It occurred to her then that perhaps he hadn't. But if that was true, what was he doing there, and with so much insolence?
"Sorry about him," one of his escorts, Courfeyrac, said quietly to Enjolras as the man seethed in the background. "He's been in the cafe the whole time, dead drunk. You know how he is." He then turned to Eponine, addressing her only because she had been talking to the leader, she was sure. "I apologize in advance for his language, Mademoiselle." She was about to assure him that it was fine and not to worry when another outburst came from the drunk.
"What are you doing sending a girl out to be your spy, coward? Would you risk her life but not your own?" Enjolras, who Eponine surmised should be infuriated at that point, calmly turned towards the man and replied, "Grantaire, calm down. I've always told you to find out the details before you accuse."
So. The marble statue was friends with the drunk. What an interesting pair.
"What else do I need to know? You're a right ass, you know that? What kind of man sends out a girl in his place? You talk so high and mighty, yet you get young gamines to do your dirty work for you!" Eponine was pretty sure the man was just working himself into a rage, ranting just to rant at that point. Nevertheless, she was offended that any man, even an inebriated one, would think her lower than him just because she was female. She had been victim of such behavior for years, of course, but that didn't make it any more acceptable. Something needed to be done. This man was ridiculous. "I offered to go," she interjected, her face flushed a bright red. "Enjolras isn't making me do anything."
The angry man, Grantaire, slowly turned towards the revolutionary, his face bewildered. She would have found this comical if he wasn't so irritating. "God, really?"
Enjolras looked much less offended than he should have - certainly less than Eponine. If anything, he seemed bemused. Why was he not upset? "What she has said is the truth. I asked for a spy, and this girl offered. I don't see any reason for her not to go."
Eponine was mildly irritated that she had been called a girl when she was nearly the same age as them, but at the same time glad Enjolras had stood up for her. She had offered, like she said, and she really, really needed the task as an excuse to get out of the barricade. If she was denied it, she could always make up some story and sneak out or something, of course. But if ease was a factor, playing Enjolras' "spy" was definitely the way to go. It was convenient and made her look much less suspicious.
As it was, before Grantaire had stormed out of the Musain, Enjolras had seemed very keen on the idea. He had not questioned the fact that she was a girl fighting on the barricade, or that she was dressed like a boy, or her behavior when Marius died. It was a relief for her - the less questions, the better. Others had seemed to be more curious, but when it came down to it the look on their leaders' face silenced them even before the words formed on their tongues. If Enjolras was okay with Eponine, they were too; at least, they pretended to be. But Eponine couldn't care less what the boys of the barricade thought of her. The only one whose opinion she had ever valued was Marius, and he was - a stab of pain, emotional and seemingly physical in the same moment - dead.
No, don't think of him. Focus.
Under normal circumstances she supposed Enjolras might not have accepted her proposal so readily. Certainly, he would have been doubtful of her just a few hours earlier. But after the attack, so many were injured and morale was low. Eponine realized just how lucky she was to have no wounds from the battle; almost everyone else seemed to have been at least grazed by a bullet or two. So naturally, since she was willing and unhurt, she was the optimal choice for reconnaissance, even if she was a girl. Enjolras couldn't turn down her offer. Before Grantaire had said anything, the leader had seemed rather keen on her going out to find out information about the opposing forces; they had been in an intent discussion, and it had looked like he trusted her enough to let her go. Hopefully the drunk hadn't changed Enjolras' mind. Having a plan, albeit a shady, deceitful one, gave Eponine a sense of direction. She felt overwhelmed by loss, but having a goal was one small glimmer of hope that she clung to. He couldn't say no now.
"You can't just let her go alone," Grantaire reprimanded, and Eponine was drawn back out of her thoughts and into the conversation at hand. He seemed slightly less upset, calmer. "Enjolras, it will be dark soon. The streets of Paris are not a safe place for young girls, especially at night and on their own."
Before Enjolras had a chance to reply, Eponine snapped, "I'll be fine." If he only knew how much time she had spent on the streets, how much danger she had faced and subsequently lived through. He wouldn't question her then.
"I have full confidence in Eponine," Enjolras agreed, shooting her a stern look. As if he thought he had her unwavering respect like one of the schoolboys. "She has proven her bravery during the attack today."
Grantaire was not appeased. "You could be sending her to her death."
Au contraire, mon ami, Eponine thought flippantly.
"You know I would never do that," Enjolras replied.
"This is not a good idea-"
"May I remind you of where you were this afternoon?" Enjolras retorted. For the first time, there was some steel apparent in his voice. "You have no basis for condemning another's abilities, considering you have not proven your own."
Grantaire's face went first white, then bright red, flushed with embarrassment. His mouth gaped, seemingly at a loss for words. Eponine felt a small thrill of triumph at his stupefaction; it served him right. Who was he for questioning her, when he had spent the day in a drunken sleep while the rest of them fought for their lives?
"Exactly." Enjolras' patience seemed to be wearing thin at last. He turned to Eponine again, taking a deep, calming breath as he did so, and dismissing Grantaire with the same motion. "I did not intend to resort to belittling," he muttered to himself, then, louder, "So, Mademoiselle, let us continue our previous discussion."
"Right," she agreed, both surprised that she had been referred to as Mademoiselle and relieved to be back on track so easily. She had no need to be worried about Grantaire after all. "What exactly do you want me to find out?" She had no real plans for retrieving information, of course, but she figured it couldn't hurt to play the part while she was still at the barricade. Once she left, though, spy Eponine would exist no more. Once she had her freedom, once she had escaped from this god-forsaken place, she would check up on her younger sister who lived with her parents still, then start life anew. There would be no going back to the barricade. The sight of the place alone made her heart ache.
She could not stay at the place where Marius had died.
She hoped to forget him in her new life. There was no way to hold on to the emotions she had surrounding him. She had been unsuccessful to push him from her mind in the past, but maybe things could be different now that he was... gone. Maybe his physical absence from her life would make him disappear from her heart. Eponine found herself hoping for such a miracle to occur. The mere thought of him made her want to curl up in a ball and lose herself in her misery, and she could not do that now that she had taken her life into her own hands. She had more important things to deal with. Like playing the spy for the revolutionaries.
"Observe, mostly," Enjolras told her. "Use your eyes to estimate how many soldiers they have - ask around if you must, but be cautious how you go." He paused for a second, gray eyes thoughtful. "I hate to pry, but you do know how to count, I assume?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Of course." Yeah, maybe to fifty, but what did it matter?
Suddenly, though, Grantaire reappeared out of the blue. He seemed to disregard Enjolras' quiet disapproval, and spoke abruptly, looking excited. "I can go with her," he announced, looking towards Eponine, who recoiled slightly. "I'll help her find out about the National Guard. So she doesn't have to go alone."
How cute. Trying to prove himself to his beloved leader.
"Absolutly not," she scoffed, while Enjolras said at the same time, "That sounds like a fantasic idea."
Eponine tried to hide her shock. What? It was? What was he thinking? Hadn't he noticed how repulsed she was by Grantaire?
"I don't need him looking out for me," Eponine said, suddenly panicked. She did not want this man with her. First off, he was a pain in the ass, and second, he would complicate her plan for a new life quite a bit. She had barely met him, yet she could hardly stand him - wasn't it apparent enough? Also, the feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, back when she hadn't known any members of the ABC society, kept nagging at her. Surely she would have remembered such a singular figure? It unnerved her. She hated not knowing.
"I think it's a fine idea," Enjolras replied. "You both have no injuries that need tending to here, and I admit I would feel better if you didn't go off on your own." Was the man blind? Had he gone completely insane?
"But you're drunk, right?" Eponine floundered for an excuse for Grantaire not to go, one that would make Enjolras see reason. Her scheme had been going so well until the alcoholic blundered in.
He shook his head, grinning. "Correction: I was drunk yesterday. I slept it off, I'm just fine now."
Eponine was seething. Could people even do that? She racked her brain for anything that would convince them to let her out without the companionship of Grantaire. Surely there was something.
"So, Enjolras?" the man prodded, expectantly. For someone who had been so furious at him earlier, his eyes gleamed with admiration when he said his friend's name. It was like his entire personality had shifted within the course of a few minutes. Eponine began to protest once more, but was cut off.
"We are decided, then," Enjolras nodded. There was a lamentable note of finality in his words. Eponine felt her spirits fall, all her former plans with them. "You may accompany Eponine on her errand. Now, if you would excuse me, I have other business to attend to." And the leader strode away just like that, without another word, completely ignoring the horrified look on her face. The drunk beamed.
"Yes," he hissed under his breath, looking elated. Inside, Eponine was screaming.
Noooo!
So guys, you like? I love writing Eponine, I like to think she is quite sassy haha. And Grantaire... Do I need to say more? He's my favorite. He's so stinking devoted to Enjolras it's cute. Needless to say, there will be much more of both of them in this story.
So, on another note, I may not be able to update this for a while. I'm going on this retreat-like thing over the weekend, so I'll lose my main time to write. I'll see if I can get the next installment up before then, but I'm a painfully slow writer and soccer, school, and the spring musical are keeping me quite busy so I wouldn't count on it (if you care at all). Just a warning that the next chapter might not be up until Sunday afternoon at the soonest. I'm honestly probably the most disappointed about this, I really enjoy writing this story.
-Until next time, BE.
