A/N: Well... I don't know if sorry will cut it for not updating but I really am sorry for leaving you all for so long :( While I was putting off writing due to horrible writer's block I did, however, go to Europe for the summer, and I had the chance to stay in Paris for a week! Staying in the city this fanfiction takes place in really helped me realize what it must have been like realistically all those years ago - and it also really helped seeing Place de Victor Hugo too :D Any who, if all goes well I will honestly try to update as much as possible and I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story. Oh and this chapter may have a bit of gore (for really squeamish people) and if I get any history/spelling wrong please do let me know. Also please, please, please review - it really helps hearing your thoughts and it makes me want to write more so please don't hesitate! Thanks a bunch xx

Une Ombre
(A Shadow)

Enjolras stood at the post, solemnly looking over the crowd that had gathered over the last few minutes. He hung his head, full of shame and regret, holding onto the soon to be memory of his son and the woman he loved. Eponine watched this with wide eyes, horrified at what was about to take place. The silhouette of the noose behind the orange-grey skies sent her into a frenzy of worry. His crimes were then read out loud, slowly, each sent flying at her, etching itself into her brain.

Murder.

Betrayal.

Mass destruction.

Then, with a bitter cry and the swift snap of his neck, he was hung, in front of all of Paris.

...

She woke with a jolt, sweat plastered to her forehead. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as the images from her dream replayed over and over again in her head. This was the fate the national guardsmen were about to give Enjolras, and the most she could do was pathetically dream about it…

"Finally awake?"

She squirmed as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings.

Joviendre was seated at his desk, a glass of water to his right, his ink and quill to his left, and long sheet of ivory paper in the centre, stretched out and held in front of him. Squinting, he seemed to be simultaneously keeping an eye on the waif and gazing over the information on the paper.

Suddenly the revelation of the news hit her again and she found herself in fits of severed breath, unable to ask for help as images of Enjolras' arrest and of the potential end of the surviving members of the barricades clouded her vision. From what she had gathered, someone had found out Enjolras' true identity and captured him. What astounded her, however, was that a finger was never laid on her. Despite her severe involvement with the barricades and the man who had supposedly started it all. Besides, nearly two years had passed – why was the uprising starting now? And why the day she had just started work?

Overhwlemed with thoughts she sat upright and convulsed under the weight of the pressure resting on her shoulders, the frivolous thoughts swirling in and around her head. Joviendre rushed by her side, forcing his water down her throat and watching intently as colour found its way back into her cheeks and strength replenished her body. However, fear and anxiety still lingered in her eyes and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Where did they take him!?" She begged.

Before he could respond she was on her feet, heading towards the door, "We have to help him!"

The man's eyes widened and he grasped her arm; pulling her away from the exit he pushed her back down to her couch, "Do you think if you march out there right now anyone will help you? Think."

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to protest but stopped when he took the roll of paper he was reading earlier off his desk. One by one he read the contents out loud to her, "Monsieur Etienne Enjolras, Monsieur Alexandre Courfeyrac, Mademoiselle Eponine Jondrette Thenardier, Monsieur Richard Grantaire, Monsieur Laurent Joly, Madame Jules Joly, Mademoiselle Musichetta Delistta – would you like me to carry on, it's quite a long list…"he yawned and
Eponine sputtered, rubbing her eyes as if to force herself awake from a terrible nightmare.

"What the hell is this?"

"The bodies they went delivered alive to the National Guardsmen so they can kill them themselves. Everywhere they strike they spread the word, lucky me I got the latest list."

A cold wind struck the waif and she shivered, mortified by what she had just heard.

"Do you honestly think that if you single handedly try to search your husband down you'll find him alive? Or make it back yourself…?"

"Shut up!" Eponine threw the door open and marched outside, the click on her shoes sounding like loud bells in the now vacant hallway. Remnants of the moon were peeking out from the previously cloudy sky, setting an ominous tone over their meeting.

"Hey!" He called out to no response, "HEY!"

"What!?"

"You'll die you know. I'm telling you now."

"And what? Would you like to help me?"

Slowly he said, "Yes."

The waif froze, mortified by why the man she had so feared was offering his help now. After they had lied to him, after he had known the truth, after he had witnessed what an awful fate was in store for them…

"I don't need your help," she spat, "and I don't want it either! You watched them take him away and you just stood there!"

He still kept his gaze firmly occupied, listening but never acknowledging her words.

"You are filth! I should've never met you!"

Suddenly he smirked and fear struck Eponine's heart.

"And only on the first day?" He began, "My, my, I knew you were special when I first laid eyes on you but I never expected this."

She was consumed in his words now, watching him move closer completely petrified, "You both lied to me – and I still offer you my help!"

"Why!?" She began, finding the courage to speak, "I never asked for it you didn't have to off-"

"Because I care!" And then the room filled with the same silence Eponine had grown so accustomed to over the years, the kind that made everything in front of her blur and the sound of her racing heart beat in her ears, the heat rising in her face and chains seemingly wrapping themselves around her tongue, rendering her speech. Everything stopped.

Then, suddenly, she was outside in front of the University, the moon shining down on her and the stars speckling the night sky. A soft, hazing fog floated around her feet and she felt the need to seep into it, to just lay there and forget that she had ever met Enjolras or fell in love with him or met Christian Joviendre.

But then, if she hadn't done any of that she would've never found the inexplicable joy her son had given her from the moment she knew he had him. There wasn't a moment that she didn't have Henri resting in her mind and soul, and after the incidents of today, all she wanted to do was go home and hold him in her arms. To hear his steady heart beat and remind herself that if anything, she had their son to remind her of Enjolras, and that if it took her the rest of her life, she would find his father.

...

Azelma took the spoonful of thickened soup and stuck in her mouth, making sure she tasted every resonating flavour: hazelnut, carrots, pumpkin, thyme, cream, salt… but not enough.

"More cream, more salt."

Courfeyrac huffed, "Seriously? I've put everything we've got in here!"

"Well it needs more!" She shook her head, "You should've bought more when you had the chance…"

He stared at the apathetic girl in awe and his insides warmed. Even though she bothered him more than any force on Earth, he felt a strange sort of comfort in her presence, and he was grateful for it to no end.

"Fine, but we'll have to make do with what we have, besides, it's for Eponine. She'll love it no matter what."

Azelma sighed, furrowing her eyebrows, "You really think so? Today was her first day at work, and she was so worried I just –" she wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her sleeve, "I want my sister to be happy."

"She will be." He pulled her in a left a kiss on her cheek, "Besides, we've been caring for Henri all day, she trusts us."

"Me." Azelma snickered, "She'll only trust you if I'm around."

"I'll have you know that she told me about her baby first."

"Only because you were the best thing around at the time."

He smirked, "Have I lost that title?"

She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach as the man inched closer and closer to her, his breath on her neck.

Suddenly, "'Zelma!" rang through the vacant halls and their embrace shattered.

"What in the devil's…" Courfeyrac let go of her and ran through the house till he had reached the door, pulling it open feverishly to find an exhausted, panting Eponine standing on the other side.

"Where's Henri?"

"You weren't supposed to be here till late-"

"Where's Henri!?" She begged, pushing him aside and searching frantically till she reached her sister, who was standing calmly by the kitchen table holding her nephew in her arms. Handing the sleeping boy to Eponine she watched as her sister kissed her son, then slowly but surely burst into tears.

"Eponine!" Azelma grasped onto her hand, "What's wrong? 'Ponine talk to me!"

After another minute of heart wrenching sobbing, she spoke up, revealing everything that had happened earlier that day. Every last detail was spread out on the table, even the strange things Joviendre had done till the very last moment she had faced him.

"I don't know what to do anymore! They're going to kill us!"

Azelma opened her mouth to speak but realized Courfeyrac's hand was clenched tightly onto hers underneath the table, and tears filled her eyes.
"They're really going to kill us? I- I don't want to die!"

"You're not going to bloody die! We won't let them kill us – we did nothing wrong!" Each heavy breath the boy took broke Azelma's heart, "But he's really gone? They really took him?"

Eponine nodded and tears filled her eyes.

"Well – we'll find him! I promise!"

"What if we don't? What if it's too late…" The waif convulsed under the weight she was placing on her own heart and began weeping once more.

"Stop, stop it!" Azelma covered her ears, shocked by the sudden liking she had taken to the man, "We'll try our best to find him, I promise."

"Myself as well!" Courfeyrac nodded, "I owe him my life, and I'll do anything to get his back to normal."

After Eponine had regained her normal breathing pattern, and Courfeyrac reassured her that no harm would come their way, the night seemed to drag on for an eternity. Too afraid to go home, she stayed at Courfeyrac's apartment, just as she had grown so used too.

Between thoughts of her son's safety, Enjolras' current whereabouts, and what on Earth Joviendre was up to she found herself asleep in a world of darkness and confusion. Even the shadows that reassured her of the omnipresent light were only illusions, prying on her vulnerability. Slowly but surely she shut her eyes, trying to shut the thoughts out for only moment if it guaranteed her one hour of sleep, so maybe, she could try and forget everything that had happened earlier that day.

Her hands slid into her pockets, frosty from the shivers flying up and down her spine, to find warmth. Then she struck a realization – her pocket watch, which she had kept to organize herself at work, was missing. Where could it have gone? It was one of the oldest things she had kept from her previous endeavours in stealing, and although she felt guilty, she had no intent of leaving something that valuable behind.

Finally forgetting her previous haunting thoughts, if only briefly, she skipped over to where on Earth she could have possibly left it. It was either still at home or with Joviendre at his office. Then again, she had never taken it out… Could have stolen it?

Rot with another horrid thought to consume her till dawn, the waif lay there, staring up at the ceiling and praying that somehow, some way, a light would beam out from the shadow and lead her down any other path than the one she was one. Slowly but surely, she fell asleep.

...

The carriage was just like any other; black iron throughout, two cushioned sets of benches facing one another, and windows to the left and right, just above the doors lying right below them which the passenger could use at any time to get out. Usually a small slot allowing the rider to view their driver lay just atop the back facing bench inside the car. There was one small separating detail between this carriage and the others however; this carriage had its windows barred and the passenger inside had no way out other than with the assistance, and permission, of a guardsman.

Enjolras watched the hills roll by beside him. Mountains stretched out for miles ahead of him under a setting sky, oranges and pinks soon being replaced by dark blues and navies. If it were under any other circumstance he would have been honored to have such a beautiful view of a sunset like this – but not today.

Struggling in his handcuffs seemed useless, and, having been shackled to the floor of the cab, there was no other means of escape for him. Normally he would've found a way out by now, but all he could've done was start screaming, and that would've gotten him whipped by the guardsmen beside the driver.

He sighed, the image of Eponine horror stricken at the University branded in his mind. What was she doing now? Was she worried? How was Henri? Would he ever see them again?

Aggravated he grunted and shook the shackled on the floor beneath him, feeling a tear in his pant leg.

"Easy back there, scum!" The guardsmen warned, shooting the man a snickering gaze through the slot separating them.

He rolled his eyes and turned away from the guard, staring back out the windows. As the carriage suddenly rolled over a large bump, he heard a small clink and averted his eyes below him. Rolling freely on the floor was a bolt previously helping hold the floor of the carriage down. Without hesitation, and idea struck him.

If he could somehow loosen the floor board he would be dragged down with it and out of the carriage. But he had to play his cards correctly or he would die sooner than the fate he was given.

With a quick solemn gaze back towards the mountains, he began to painfully rip the bolts holding the floorboard around his feet out with his bare hands. Each bolt stung as it dug deeper and deeper into the flesh surrounding his fingers and the bone underneath, and with each gruesome bolt Enjolras fought back blood curdling screams of agony. One by one the bolts fell out, the floor underneath him giving way to the dirt path underneath. Another large bump and the clinks were now clear as day.

Then he stopped, if he could hear them clearly then so could -

"What're you doing back there!?" The guardsmen's gaze burned through Enjolras' cover, "Oi! Erik stop the cab, we've got ourselves an escape artist too!"

"No," Enjolras' fingers moved faster, blood over bone, bone over flesh, red tainting his vision. A hole deep enough to fit one leg through opened underneath him and he whittled away at the rest faster and faster. Then the carriage came to a sickening halt.

"Get him out!"

"NO!" Enjolras kicked the floorboards beneath him, jumping to knock the rest of them loose. The guardsmen ripped his door open and pulled half his body out, the leg still shackling to the floor resting halfway in the carriage. A handful of bolts lay in the man's mangled hand.

"You'll be walking the rest of the way, and try anything funny and I'll shoot your limbs off." The driver, Erik, laughed, and the guardsmen in front of him snickered, bending down to undue the rest of his shackled legs.

A horrible fate flashed before Enjolras' eyes, and before he knew it he could see himself getting hung in front of all of Paris – just because he loved his stupid Patria so much. He was willing to die for her – but not for Eponine. He was a different man now, he was never going to let himself die knowing he had a child at home.

With more strength than he thought he could ever muster, he through the dozen bolts in the direction of the horse up front, sending it into a whinny of adrenaline and yanking the carriage forward.

"What the-" before the guardsmen could say anything, he heard a sickening crunch as the cab projected forward and Enjolras was ripped out from the interior, his shackled leg turning in the opposite direction and his body being tossed off the mountain path. The rest of the carriage swerved and swivelled until it had knocked off and hit both guardsmen and detached from the horses that ran freely down the rest of the path.

Feeling the burning in his leg, the fire in his fingers, and the aching in his heart Enjolras fell and fell, losing consciousness only to wake up to the endless tumble he was taking downhill over and over again.

Was this how he would die? Sacrificing everything to die on the very mountains he had so admired just minutes ago?

Feeling his momentum slow and his will power die away, Enjolras finally came to a halt in the meadow just below the mountain. His leg was crushed and blood poured out into a sea around him. With the image of his beloved still hovering above him, and the mementos of the little time he spent with his son resting in his heart, he lay to rest, accepting his final moments. Besides, a criminal like him deserved something like this – he had killed so many, he had hurt too many, and it was finally time to serve justice.

With a final breath he closed his eyes and waited for the dark hand of death.

Then, as if an angel had descended, he heard a voice in the distance suddenly called out, "Momma, m'aider! Regarde, c'est un garcon! Depeche-toi!"