BOOK THREE:

A CURIOUS GIRL

Madness Sees the World Accurately

There are things that become so natural over time with routine that they come to be expected, and waking up to the sun alone in bed after a night with Enjolras was one of them. She didn't know if she could recall once in two years the chance to bask in the afterglow of a night well spent in her lover's arms.

She did not believe this was sneaky from the secret; Where Aurelie only needed to work in the afternoons and run her errands, Enjolras always had classes to make and, in more recent months, was meeting with his lieutenants.

So waking up alone was familiar, even if she'd hoped for more after her absence.

It was a tad more melancholy with few days left before he would defend their barricades with his life. Be that as it may, after their argument, sharing the life inside of her had led to the most profound love making she'd ever experienced. They were always lost in each other's eyes, but impossibly it had held more intensity.

Two people mixing their blood to form a new life creates a bond far more powerful than love itself; a new being that is a duplication of the whole they feel coming to fruition in tangible proof.

Sleep had prepared her, though little refreshment came from it. The air was heavy and even her bath achieved nothing more than cleanliness.

But her words to Enjolras as he'd knelt before her last night had come from the heart; she believed them to be true with more conviction than she'd felt in her life.

At least today she would be working through the evening, so her thoughts would orbit something other than impending doom and fear of what was to come.

But first, breakfast.

Once dressed, she left her apartment to purchase her meal from the Café Musain. Out on the street, Gavroche knocked into her at a run and continued on as though nothing had happened.

"Gavroche!" she called after the little boy before he could make it too far. The street was busy, though not any more than usual; the poor always slumped against buildings as an outline for the pavement. "Where are you off to so early?"

Gavroche cupped his hands around his mouth. "Enjolras is meeting with Cougourde! He asked me to join him!"

He beamed at this with pride, excited to be included. Aurelie smiled sadly and saluted him. "Be on your way, then," she called.

Gavroche bowed to her before gripping his cap and running around the corner, out of sight. Aurelie watched the corner as though she expected to see him again, perhaps tailing Enjolras, but they were both long gone.

Jingling the coins together in her palm, Aurelie entered the tavern and sat down at a well-worn table against the wall on the first floor. The café was busy, as it was the only place nearby to find a hot meal, and she ordered a plate of ham and eggs along with a cold glass of milk to drink.

A few tables away near the bar sat the Jondrette's, though it was no secret who they were. Formerly the Thenardier family, they were crooks and cons, even taking from those who thought they were in on it from the start. They'd once had five children, decided three was better suited and abandoned two at a widow's door. What came of the others? Two boys forgot who their parents were once sent on their own at the age of five, one of them Gavroche. Eponine was all who mattered to them, and only to use her in their schemes.

And beside the Jondrette's sat the lonely tragic girl at a table of her own. While the Jondrette's indulged with Montparnasee, Brujon and Babet in a large meal that had a high price, Eponine was left to the side with a plate of bread and a boiled egg.

Aurelie willed Eponine to notice her with her eyes, and Eponine caught them. They were both lonely this morning, and while Eponine had a crazy inside, she had heart in equal measure. It was only this reason Aurelie ever cared what became of Eponine.

Once her attention had been caught, Aurelie smiled and beckoned her over with her head. If there was a race, Eponine would have been the finisher as she scooped up her plate and hurried over to Aurelie's table.

"You look quite tired, Eponine. Can I order you some meat to wake you up?"

Eponine peered at her for a long while. "You're very kind to me, Aurelie," she responded, as if only now realizing that Aurelie was the only person who ever treated her as an equal. She shook her head, forcing the thought away, as it was unwelcome. "I don't want your money. I'm well with what I have."

She was not; her wretched parents treated her as a slave. But Aurelie would never insult anyone by insisting. They may live in the slums, however those who didn't steal only had their pride left to hold onto.

But their conversation opening had been abruptly short, and both were left wondering why they'd met here at all.

"It seems everyone has scattered for the day," Aurelie finally pointed out. It was apparent to all that the school boys were missed this morning. Only the old and the young were dining.

"Lamarque's death."

"Ah, of course."

Aurelie wished to dig in hungrily, but felt a shame over the ham on her plate while Eponine only picked on her bread, rolled it into balls, then set those balls on the side of her plate in a pyramid the way the army stacks the leads for their cannons.

She was forlorn, and upon hearing from Enjolras that Marius had run off with her last night, Aurelie's interest was piqued. She was no gossip—respecting the secrets around her. But that did not mean she felt no interest in the intrigue.

"Any word on the procession?"

Eponine shrugged, in a full slump over her plate. All that kept her head up was a bored hand on her chin.

"Couple days."

"Ah."

Aurelie was regretting asking her over at this point and began to eat so she'd have an excuse to escape. The girl added the rain to the cloud over Aurelie's head, and Aurelie's smiles and kindness to others was the sun attempting to break free, however forced it was.

"Enjolras made this the sign," Eponine finally said, then met Aurelie's eyes. Her chin remained tucked and a smile crept onto her face that looked wicked and crazed. "Are you frightened for him?"

This was said as a question of a fact already known, and Aurelie tried not to flinch. She decided to go with bland in her response, and form it as a question instead of a statement that would either end up as a truth of a lie.

Between truth and lies are fine lines that can be walked upon, but carefully.

"However do you mean?"

Taking one of the balls of bread, Eponine placed it on her tongue and lapped it into her mouth. "I know my way around," she said. "I see things people don't see."

"Well, that's a talent."

"You don't deny it, then?"

This was quite daring of Eponine, and certainly crossing a line she should not be near in the eyes of Aurelie. They were not close enough to discuss secrets. Aurelie had none close enough other than Enjolras. Perhaps Marius at most, but he was a man and women dare not discuss love with another man who was not the target of said love.

"What should I be denying?" Aurelie asked. She was well versed in conversational escapism. And this sort of daring of the darer made those who dared afraid to challenge one so strong. A woman who dares back is feared.

At least, until daring a madwoman, and Eponine was the crazed result of an upbringing no human being should ever have to suffer. Raised in a jail would have done her better off. Raised as she was, it was a horse to a carrot, dangling happiness that could not be reached, ever. She was teased to madness with this carrot, and the result left Aurelie with pity in understanding the root of the disease.

"That you love him," Eponine said, plopping one more ball of dough into her mouth.

Aurelie chuckled. "Of course I do," she said naturally. "Who doesn't? Men and women alike flock to him as a moth to a flame. He is too bright to be ignored."

These were truths instead of denial, and they could be freely spoken.

"Alright."

It seemed this was the end of the conversation in regards to Aurelie and Enjolras until Eponine looked up once more after swallowing another ball.

"But you do not just love him," Eponine said, drumming her fingers against her cheek. "You are in love with him."

Ah yes, those who dare hard enough will dare incessantly.

"And what of it?"

"It's why you're fearful for him."

The only way to retort was with a misdirection that masks the truth.

"I feel for him what you feel for Monsieur Marius."

"For Marius?"

Eponine's eyes had widened, and she no longer positioned herself as one bored and tired. She had gone rigid, taking offense that her love for Marius could be shared with Aurelie. And if put side by side, Eponine knew it was Aurelie who would win.

At least until last night.

"I feel what you feel for Marius, only for Enjolras," Aurelie said, maintaining indifference to the subject. "Again I ask of you, who doesn't? Pertaining to women, many follow him with giggles and glances. And again I ask of you, what of it? He ignores them all."

Eponine smiled while biting her lower lip. "He ignores them all," she agreed. "All but you."

It was a sick curiosity that kept Aurelie in this conversation. She could have easily walked away, but the tenacity of Eponine was intriguing. No one had once brought Enjolras to Aurelie's attention in this way. They may tell her where he has gone, what he's been saying, but they'd never attached love to the equation the way Eponine was.

Beyond this, there was an exhaustion. With the world about to change, the future uncertain, Aurelie felt as though she needed to give her last will and testament. Their secret had not felt like a burden on her for a very long time, but now challenged outright, she wanted to stand atop the table and claim him as hers and hers alone.

To be possessive is an evil, as it implies a mistrust regarding the possession. But when pride enters the pot, it is hard at times not to say: "He is great, and he is mine."

"We are close, him and I," Aurelie said. This could be an admission of friendship or love. Still, an escape was needed before all was spilt, so she continued to eat with more haste.

"Yes, secret glances and secret touches," Eponine drawled.

Aurelie could not help but gape in horror.

The Depth of Eponine's Perception

There is nothing as strong as love. No human emotion can escape its grasp. It is as pure as a newborn child, unaffected by the cruelties of the world, yet holds the power of a weapon that, if wielded incorrectly, can split you open.

The wounds of love never heal, one can only accept that they now have the scars and hide the pain love left behind. A surgeon cannot cure the ailment of love, a magician cannot make it disappear. Once it has you, it holds on tight and has a puppet master pulling the strings. You are no longer in control of your life, your life now revolves around your love.

You can believe you make your own choices, but love drives every move on the chessboard. It is only when you've won or lost that you realize it has been checkmate from the start, and everything else has been casualties along the way.

This is the plight of poor Eponine.

When you have never received love, you search for it. You can find it in anyone, cupid's reckless arrow firing upon any target in sight. This is the deep craving for love, inherent in the loneliest of souls. The wicked can find it in the pure, the pure can find it in the wicked. Love sees no sins; it looks beyond the sins and pushes them aside.

It is a harsh adversary, love. It can strike anyone at any time, leaving one desperate for its return. The horrifying truth of love is that it can rarely be a mirror, often as sharp as glass.

And what happens when the glass cuts?

The answer to that has been told; it leaves the scars of battle.

In the case of Eponine, having never been loved by anyone, cupid's arrow fired recklessly in the direction of Marius. As a result of this missed target, Eponine left herself vulnerable, and in hopes of an eventual return, she became the puppet of Marius.

Love makes you see hope, but it can be a cruel trick. You can find yourself under its spell, the trickster of love leading you to believe that, under its command, you can work for it. This is not the case. When love has taken hold of you and not the arrow's aim, the arrow will stay, the target will not. It will continue to fight the battle as if there had been no prick felt. It is oblivious to the arrow, and it's now the target searching for one of its own.

It is a rare chance to find a target that is a mirror of yourself. In this case, you are just as vulnerable, only a different shade. This vulnerability, inexplicably, is more powerful than the other. Love has now added life to the equation, and life can be charitable or cruel depending on the circumstances.

So what of the circumstances involving Enjolras and Aurelie?

Cupid fires at the same time, shattering the mirror. The pieces cannot be reconstructed, and neither party wants them to be. They will build anew, creating a mirror that is now threefold: an echo of each other's love with the depth of life between.

This is a rare occasion and undeniable. It is a celebration without guests, the world now revolving around the two targets. From here, no notice is paid to cupid's arrow, for cupid has moved on to the next. He's done his duty, and he has achieved great success.

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

This is where Enjolras and Aurelie found themselves. They each thought themselves whole until the stark realization that a whole has two halves. And once this is realized, the whole cannot be a whole without its halves. Hearts begin as halves, as much as they like to think themselves whole. When the heart echoes the beat of another, it finds its rhythm. And in a simple glance, Enjolras found the reason he lived for his purpose. Aurelie found the reason behind every choice made.

Had choices been made?

There is no choice in love, but there are steps that can deliver one to it. Because you never know when love will strike, when it does, you find the choices made could be no other way. It's the choices that led you here, and it's all been a divine plan out of your power.

So how does this affect those who see it from afar?

When living in the shadow of love's cruelty, one looks for a ray of light. They have reconciled the fact that they are relegated to darkness, so any flash of spark from two in love has the chance to bring light into their world.

When you have no light, those flashes, like fireworks, leave their mark in the eyes of the beholder. In this way, they go remembered. The firework disappears, but when another fires into the black of night, it's a reminder of the last, an echo of what was just seen.

Love walks side by side on any day, and in its purest form, it's commenting on the weather. It's then that love touches an arm, and the touch can tingle. Glances linger. Then it is no longer any other day. Those who live in the light cannot see the flash; it is too bright in their surroundings to notice. These flashes only illuminate the shadows. It's very rare to have light in a shadow, so it does not go unnoticed. The dark world is a shadow to those living in the light, so notice is taken of the sparks and remembered. When the light repeats itself, the picture becomes clear.

The best you can do from the shadows is try to reach what you see, as no light will reach you otherwise. Light from another source can grip you like a novel, leave you turning to the next page with bated breath to see what it will bring.

This is where Eponine finds herself fascinated by the love of others, and through Enjolras and Aurelie, she could see the well written novel page by page. This is when glances are noticed by her shadows. Simple touches. The cause and the effect.

But why the secret?

The secret fascinates the shadows more than the light itself, turning the novel into a thriller. Now the light holds intrigue coupled with the longing for it.

Only when viewed from afar is the secret understood, the pages revealing the story. Neither party fully understands its importance in the bigger picture, only that they have their reasons. They can pretend it's a game; that the secret is as special as the love, but love likes to flaunt its feathers. It tries to fly from the forest and sing to all that it is there and it is magnificent.

But when confined, only the cage understands the captors, as it is the device between the predator and prey.

Everyone likes to think their gods are chaste. That Mary was but a virgin, because we need her to be to idealize her role. That Jesus had a heart for all, equally, for if he didn't, those who followed him would lose their idolatry of a standard not upheld.

After all, is it not the sacrifice of Jesus that sins have been washed away?

This is Enjolras. The leader of followers. His sacrifice is his secret for a greater good that has now been a guise in his eyes. He is viewed by others as great and attempts to withhold the standard set upon him. Because of his dedication to the beliefs of those who surround him, he is worshipped for having no weakness for love. In this, he shoulders the weaknesses of others and offers them forgiveness for their sin of love. And as Jesus died so we all can sin, thus is Enjolras' sacrifice.

But why does Aurelie accept the secret? It seems she has no reason to, as she is not a leader of followers and worshipped only through love, the greatest by Enjolras. She has even less of a reason to keep a secret because she is strong enough to battle Enjolras and win the wars. She is not passive; she does not shirk from blows. She fights, often playing a devil's advocate to strengthen resolves. She is no average woman: bright, beautiful, intellectual, perceptive, understanding and sure of every move she makes. For what reason would she keep her end of the bargain? She must have some; it's not human nature to give something without a return.

Her reason is simple. Her secret is kept for love.

Love has the power to render even the strongest crippled, and the strongest of people are the two here, our hero and heroine, maintaining their secret.

What Eponine Does for Love

"I believe I need a walk," Aurelie said.

"Good, I'd like to take you somewhere," replied Eponine.

Needing an escape is too kind of a phrase to describe what Aurelie felt, but it was her kindness that won out. Scooping up her bread, she followed Eponine from the Café Musain in a sort of trance.

Ten minutes later, Eponine turned to Aurelie.

"You did not answer me," she said, then continued with her plea. "Are you in love with Enjolras, and is he in love with you."

Alone, without the tavern surrounding them, Aurelie gave up.

"We are friends, you and I," Aurelie said cautiously.

"I'd hope for that, yes," Eponine said. She was very sad, and Aurelie always felt it necessary to brighten a person's day one by one. It was Enjolras who could fight for the masses. Aurelie fought for the individual.

"Then that bit is settled."

Eponine asked, "And the bit of you and Enjolras?"

"I cannot speak for him. But I am very much in love with him, and I can only say that he has told me the same. I believe he means it."

Eponine smiled softly, longingly and sad. "Thank you."

Not really understanding why Eponine had ended this discussion with her thanks, Aurelie again followed, thinking Eponine very queer indeed.

It was another twenty minutes before they reached rue Plumet. The gate was closed and it seemed from the vines that it had not opened in a very long time. The garden was wild with overgrowth, many plants having died due to neglect. The dwelling on the property was not able to be seen through the thicket, one would only know a building stood from the roof that barely caught the eyes, and only if one was looking for it.

Once close, Eponine's pace slowed in the way one approaches a sacred statue. When she reached the wrought iron fencing, she lightly gripped the filigrees, staring into the wild vegetation that was so unlike anywhere else in Paris.

"Yesterday," she began, speaking to the thicket. "You hadn't returned yet."

Her frame rigid, Aurelie couldn't take her eyes off the girl. This was interesting, what was taking place today. They'd had plenty of conversations that had remained on a superficial level, only once breaching the dam when Eponine cried one night after Aurelie saw Monsieur Jondrette backhand her. She'd run to Eponine to soothe her, help her up from the cobblestone.

"I watch," Eponine continued. "From shadows, everything is clear but your own path. It's how I knew of you and Enjolras. It's easier to follow the lives of others than my own.

"A girl and her father were in the marketplace buying fresh vegetables. They handed out coins to the poor for charity. They were quite wealthy, judging by their clothing. I knew the girl in my past life. Back when we were the Thenardier's and not the Jondrette's. I remember little other than loving her."

Turning to Aurelie, she said, "Her mother would send us money. It was the only reason Papa kept her. He kept anyone who he could leech from, as I'm sure you've seen him do. They only cared for her for the money, and even then they didn't care for her at all. They treated her as a slave. We were only six."

Eponine paused, remembering upon mentioning their age how early she'd been taught to deceive and con.

"I didn't know any better," she said, feeling a need to explain her behavior away to Aurelie. She admired Aurelie and hoped she'd understand. "I didn't know what I was doing or what my parents were doing. I only knew that I loved her, and then one day she was gone."

"Where to?"

Eponine shrugged, pursed her lips to the side. "She was purchased by a man in the middle of the night."

"No!" Aurelie cried, horrified by the thought.

"Not for anything wicked," Eponine said with a roll of her eyes. She chuckled without an ounce of humor, as the story was not even remotely funny. Cosette had won then, had won again last night. "The man knew her mother and made a promise on her deathbed to take care of Cosette. My parents would not give her up without a fee, and he paid to follow through with his promise. Take her into a better life. I never saw her again. Until yesterday."

"And she is well?"

Aurelie was strangely hypnotized by this story, wondered where it was leading. And when she saw a flash of pain cross Eponine's features, she knew it would end badly.

"She is well," Eponine said, looked at Aurelie. "She's like you, Aurelie. Beautiful. Stunningly so. She's the way you once were before you lost your family. I never had that, you know. Never had a family who loved me, they've only used me."

Aurelie decided to ignore the unintentional jab. Losing her family had been a great tragedy that she still hadn't recovered from. It was moving here that had made everything right in the world once more.

"Did you speak to her?"

Another shake of her heavy head. "No," she said. "My parents tried to con her father, who could not be conned. Javert was near and they ran." She cocked her head to the side. She hadn't been able to figure out why they'd run, but had saved them the previous night despite her pain. That was when her father had struck her, not the first time, and certainly not the last. "But none of this is the story, only background."

Aurelie stepped forward, ready to console Eponine, as the girl was carrying a burden that weighted her tiny frame. "What is the story?"

"Marius," Eponine breathed, eyes wide and glossy. "He saw her too. Just as I did. I saw my love for her, and he discovered his."

The ghost, Aurelie realized.

"He begged me to find her name," she continued, her lip quivering. "I pretended I didn't know her and set off to find her."

"But Eponine! Why?"

Tears welled up in Eponine's eyes, but she would not cry openly. She'd been through a lot, though inexplicably, this had been the worst she'd ever experienced.

"I can't say why," she said, chin quivering. "Marius asks me to do things and he doesn't know how much it pains me."

"Why do them at all?" Aurelie demanded of her. She knew Marius quite well; he was enigmatic and a tease when it came to women. She assumed people knew that. All but those women who only could hope for a chance with him.

And on this, it was easier for Aurelie to relate. Had Enjolras not returned her love, she could see her love being powerful enough to try to earn his. It didn't work that way, but she wouldn't have known that.

She wanted to rescind her question. And did.

"You don't need to answer that," Aurelie said, stepping toward the girl. "I understand why."

Eponine shook her head. "I found this house." The longing in her eyes as she turned back to the house wounded Aurelie's heart, aching for the poor girl, as it had so often when she'd see her abused. "I watched them. They had no real reason to run from Javert, and I don't know why. They are honest people trying to live an honest life. So last night after watching this place, I went to find Marius. He was with Enjolras and I stole him away to bring him here.

"I don't know how," she said painfully. "I can't say how she knew he was here, but she walked out at the moment he stood in this very spot." She turned to Aurelie and pointed to the corner of the property. "I watched from there. He didn't notice I was still here, his eyes were trained and they became each other's world. He never saw me there, just as he's never seen me as anything more.

"He thanked me over and over again on the way, every word a dagger. And I watched him slip from me, though he was never mine to keep."

Eponine turned to Aurelie and released her grip on the iron, stepped toward her. "He looked at her the way Enjolras looks at you. The way Grantaire looks at Enjolras—" So Aurelie was not the only person who noticed this secret. Those who keep secrets see others, and in Eponine, it seemed it was also a secret safe. "—The way I look at Marius. You are the lucky one, Aurelie. You're the only one whose love is requited. Only Marius received it from Cosette."

Aurelie finally reached for Eponine, rested her hand on her shoulder in comfort. "Eponine, I had no idea," she said. It wasn't quite the truth; she'd noticed how Eponine would gaze at Marius. How she did his bidding without Marius realizing what he asked of her. But she hadn't realized until now the toll it took, stealing what little of a soul she had left.

Eponine began to silently cry. "Marius planned to meet her, then left," she whispered, chin trembling. "I watched, still. I needed to watch just to accept it. That was when my father came with his friends in hopes of turning them in to the police for a reward." She inhaled deeply for courage. "So I screamed, and my father struck me."

Aurelie hurt for her, and lifted her hand from Eponine's shoulder to her cheek to look for the blow, only noticed now that she had a small cut. "You should not be treated in such a manner," she said sadly.

"The physical pain can help," Eponine said. Aurelie gasped, unable to imagine how this girl suffered so deeply that a strike would soothe her emotional pain. "Before I left, I saw Cosette."

Digging into her pocket, Eponine pulled out a slip of paper, folded in half, the name Marius scrawled in beautiful handwriting across the top. Looking up in shame at Aurelie, she said, "She slid this in the gate before they ran from here."

"You must give it to him," Aurelie insisted.

Eponine shook her head vehemently. "I can't," she said, then bit her lip. "I'm not ready."

Indeed, it was circumstances that had left her going mad, not the creation of a corrupted soul. And Aurelie knew she would give it to him once Eponine had reconciled with herself what had happened. Grieved the loss.

Gently aiding Eponine in closing her hand over the letter, Aurelie said, "You will in due time. But you must do it soon, Eponine. If they have a secret, they are about to run, and if it's a letter of where she is headed, Marius should know."

Marius had what Enjolras did not. Marius, dedicated as he was, could put love first. It was not for Aurelie to assume which love was stronger; Marius' love for this Cosette or his love for Enjolras. But it was up to Marius to decide. What Aurelie couldn't decide upon was whether or not Marius had Enjolras beat.

"If it's a letter of her love," Aurelie continued, thinking aloud. "He deserves to know it before he faces his war."

Eponine backed away with a deep breath. She knew this.

"Does it hurt you?" Eponine asked, her back toward Aurelie.

Aurelie furrowed her brows. "Whatever do you mean?"

Eponine spun to face Aurelie. "Does it hurt you to love the way it does me? Or is it easier knowing Enjolras returns it."

Aurelie swallowed. Blinked. "Yes, Eponine," she whispered, thinking of how everything had changed with her pregnancy. How everything was about to change with his war. "It hurts me very much."

Shaking her head to clear it, Eponine straightened her frame. "It no longer matters," she said. "Everyone will die at the barricade."

"Eponine!" Aurelie hissed.

"It does not mean a war won't rage on," Eponine said, and in this, Aurelie was up close and personal with Eponine's mad soul. "But those who begin a war never survive through it."

Aurelie felt ill because she knew deep down that was often the case. And very well could be.

"Eponine, let us change our subject," Aurelie demanded. "I cannot even begin to think that way, not now. You may have lost your faith, but I must hold mine close."

Shoulders up near her cheeks, Eponine gave Aurelie a look that plainly said Aurelie could think as she liked, but it was Eponine who spoke the truth.