Chapter 4

The Les Amis meeting was fervent. Students were nearly trembling with anxious murmurs and whispered strategies. All throughout the café, rebellion was boiling beneath the skin of each bright eyed youth, ready for the battle that now approached at an alarming rate.

Eponine eyed Marius from across the room. He sat next to Grantaire, sipping on a beer and nodding absently as his friend spoke. Though she knew what he was really thinking about, Eponine tried not to pay too close attention. Instead, she shifted her gaze to the vigorous leader at the front of the room, his fist raised in a freedom inducing cry. She thought coolly how, only hours earlier, that arm had been wrapped around her shivering shoulders. She had woken, still tucked into the safety of Enjolras's grasp, his chest rising and falling to a sleepy rhythm. Not wanting to disturb him, Eponine stayed still for quite a while, until the sun was filtering in through the window, shrouding all of the dust in the air in a silvery spotlight.

Enjolras woke slowly, his eyes blinking into the world as though it were painful. After the initial shock of reality, he glanced down at the girl curled into him and immediately, as if he had suddenly touched a very hot surface, removed his arm from around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, jumping up from the cot.

"What for?" Eponine sat up and stretched, letting the covers fall to her waist.

Enjolras gestured haphazardly to the cot.

"This…I…I don't know what got into me," he stammered, avoiding eye contact with the wide eyed girl.

"I hardly think it was you, Monsieur," she laughed.

"Of course it was. You'll have to forgive me, 'Ponine. After hearing the news, I had far too much to drink and-"

"Enjolras, it was only a night in good company. It's nothing to apologize for," Eponine smiled as she stood up, remembering to keep the oversized trousers from falling to her ankles. Enjolras looked at her through squinted eyes.

"So you didn't…I mean we were…we were just sleeping?"

Eponine stared at him for a moment before she processed what he had said. Once she understood, her entire head was thrown back in laughter. It took her a moment to compose herself before she replied.

"Surely you weren't so drunk you can't remember what happened?" she grinned. Enjolras inspected the floor sheepishly, running a familiar hand through his tousled locks. He seemed to do that a lot.

"Well," Eponine said matter-of-factly, "first you beckoned me into your flat, and then we made wild, passionate love to each other for quite some time, and then we fell asleep on your cot,"

Enjolras's mouth had formed a tiny "O" shape as he listened to the account. Eponine punched him playfully, an even broader smile dancing across her face.

"Only kidding, Monsieur," she gathered up her dress and petticoats from the floor. "It was late, I needed a place to stay. You let me sleep here and we couldn't come to an agreement on who would sleep in the bed, so we both did. It was all very innocent," she could see an obvious sigh of relief in the boy as his shoulders fell and his face relaxed into it's normal intense smolder.

It became apparent to her that Enjolras had been much more influenced the previous night than he had led her to believe. He had seemed a bit softer, but now she was sure of it. Her attempt at lightening the mood only hardened his features more as he changed into a suitable shirt and left her to do the same. It was as if Eponine had woken up next to an entirely different person than she had originally fallen asleep with.

Now, in the midst of his passionate speech, she could see the seriousness of his demeanor put to good use. This was what he was meant to do; fight, unite, rebel. It fit him so perfectly, or, perhaps he fit it.

Eponine was still wondering whether the night had changed the status of their friendship when the leader approached her after the meeting.

"You'll get home alright tonight, yes?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks. I'll be sure to stay away from the Inspector," Enjolras seemed unconvinced at the answer. He was searching for something in Eponine's chocolate eyes. After a moment, he seemed to have found it, or perhaps given up looking. He nodded shortly before moving on to a different conversation.

So the tables had turned, Eponine thought as she left the café and slipped into the deep black of the night. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she darted down an alley. Years of doing her father's dirty work and living, in essence, on the streets had left her with very few chances at friendship. Her brother, Gavroche, was a cocky little boy whom she loved very much, but he spent most of his time traipsing around the city. He fancied himself a revolutionary, and maybe he was. But Eponine didn't see very much of him, which made her virtually friendless. Until now.

She breathed in a huge sum of air. Paris was grimy and dirt ridden, but it did have a certain elegance to it in the moonlight. Old bricks and decaying buildings seemed only half as decrepit in the dark, giving only a solid path to follow and a sturdy surface to hold. That was all anyone really needed from a city, anyway.

"Think we're going somewhere, do we?" Eponine stopped in her tracks. She couldn't recognize this voice at all, only comprehend that it was somewhere behind her. She spun on her heel, but the alleyway she had been cutting through to stay off of the main street was so dark, she couldn't find a silhouette anywhere. Without warning, a clammy hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her back in the direction she had just come from. A scream worked it's way into the frightened girl's throat, but she swallowed it once she realized how much unwanted attention that would draw to her whereabouts.

"Who are you?" she whispered through clenched teeth, trying to escape from the stranger's tight grip. A deep laugh shattered the eerie quiet of evening. "My dear, you really don't want to know,"