Of Two Reunions

"Enjolras!"

"Go away, Courfeyrac,"

"You're sleeping in my flat. Have you and all of the others been evicted?"

Enjolras opened his eyes and glared up at his friend. "It's not my fault that Rue de la Verrerie is in the middle of everything. Or that it's here where that girl decided to end up,"

Courfeyrac shook his head chidingly. "If I recall, it was your idea that I move here in the first place. And the girl's name is Eponine. You're the one who told us that before you left for that meeting yesterday,"

Enjolras got off the floor and rubbed his eyes. He remembered that he was in Courfeyrac's living room. It was morning once again, and everyone was still asleep: Joly and Bousset were on the sofa. Combeferre, Feuilly, and Grantaire were dozing in chairs.

An eighth figure was in the room, perched on the table while eating a piece of bread. "Ah it's you," Enjolras said by way of acknowledgment.

Gavroche swallowed another mouthful of bread. "Well so the arguement's won now?"

"Not entirely yet," Enjolras said. "What have you come here for?"

"To see my sister,"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Best we don't put off their reunion. It must have been a terrible thing for that girl to wake up to you, Enjolras,"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "And why so?"

Courfeyrac gave him a knowing look. "I'm surprised you didn't bore her to death with your talk on politics..."

"I did not talk to her about that for two reasons: one, I doubt she'd understand such rhetoric. Secondly, I know she's got nothing else on her mind than seeing Marius again," Enjolras pointed out.

Courfeyrac smiled. "Suit yourself," he said, opening the door. Gavroche ran in ahead of him.

Eponine was sitting up in bed. Her face was flushed, and her limp hair stuck to her face. She barely had time to comb it out of her eyes before Gavroche ran up to her bedside.

"Eponine!" the gamin greeted cheerily.

"How did you get here, Gavroche?" the girl asked hoarsely.

"Monsieur Courfeyrac brought me here. But you, Ponine? Papa hasn't been about to find you?" Gavroche replied, putting a thin hand on Eponine's forehead.

Eponine shuddered; whether from fear or fever, no one could tell. "He hasn't. I'd prefer to rest a few days before running out into the streets again,"

Nearby, Enjolras and Courfeyrac exchanged concerned looks. "Till your fever breaks, Mademoiselle, and those stitches hold, there will be no talk of going out," Enjolras said matter-of-factly.

Eponine scowled at him. "Are either of you going to see Monsieur Marius anytime soon?" she asked.

"Perhaps later," Courfeyrac said.

"Oh could you tell him where I am? Tell him to come and see me, it shall make me feel better quicker. It's good that my brother is here, but I would like to see him as soon as I can. Do I have to run for him? It would be nice for a change if he came" Eponine said brightly.

"Not even Jehan is this exasperating when he's supposedly in love," Enjolras thought. "We'll tell him," he finally said.

"Oh thank you," Eponine whispered, smiling widely at him. Enjolras took the opportunity then to excuse himself.
Outside, M. Thenardier, known to the street as Fabantou, was making the rounds of the neighborhood. He stopped outside Number 16 and listened intently to the hubbub of young voices from an upstairs window.

"Can it be?" he muttered gruffly. He made a mental note to find Azelma, and maybe some friends to take a better look at this particular house. For now, there were urgent matters to attend to at the Rue de l'Homme Arme.
The day passed quickly, as it always had for the young men of the revolution ever since the first victorious morning. It was about sundown when Enjolras, with Bahorel and Jean Prouvaire in tow, returned to Courfeyrac's flat.

"So this is where you've been? I thought you all had places of your own," Bahorel commented as they slowly walked up the stairs.

"Lovely lady circumstance meets brother fraternite," Jehan said.

Enjolras managed a smile as they got to the door. "You're probably right,"

Only Feuilly was in the living room. The fanmaker was engrossed in painting an intricate script across a floral design. When the door opened, he looked up and a pleasant smile spread across his face. "Damien! Jehan! It's good to see you two again,"

Bahorel nodded. "Still alive, Gilles. It takes more than a few National Guards to take me down,"

Feuilly clapped Bahorel's shoulder. "We've always known that,"

Jehan looked around anxiously. "Where's everyone?"

"Out. Mostly arranging things at the university, or at meetings. Bousset and Gavroche went to find some food. Grantaire has gone to the countryside, supposedly to speak to some other groups there,"

"What?" Enjolras sputtered. "You mean Laurent Grantaire??"

"The one and only," Feuilly said sheepishly.

Suddenly, a scream came from the bedroom. The men rushed in to find Eponine cowering in a corner, wrapped in a blanket. Her face was deathly pale, and her hands covered her eyes.

"Eponine! What's happened?" Feuilly asked.

"He's here! I can't stay! It's too dangerous!" Eponine gasped, pointing to the window. "I saw him! He was staring at me, looking as if he was coming to get me again. Like he did before I went to the barricade...like he almost did when I stopped him and the rest of Patron-Minette from robbing the Rue de Plumet!"

"Who?" Enjolras asked.

"Parnasse," Eponine whispered.