Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise from Les Misérables is property of Victor Hugo. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hey everybody! Two updates in one week! Bet you never thought that'd happen, did you? And hey, did anybody notice we've surpassed the one year mark? –dons party hat, throws some confetti, smashes face into cake- Ah, one year in and barely three chapters. That's a bit sad really, isn't it? My time management is fair shoddy.

Thank you so much again to anybody who followed, favourite and reviewed this story, because to be honest, when you love to write as much as I do, receiving positive feedback on your own work is literally the best feeling in the world. (Ok, the cheesiness ends here.) Merry Christmas everybody, and a Happy New Year! See all of you in 2015!

Enjolras pulled up in front of a small, semi-detached house with vines creeping across the red brick façade. The curtains were drawn, the blue shutters were open and there was thick, grey smoke curling out of the chimney. There was a red bicycle in the driveway, a minivan and an old, battered Toyota. Several potted plants containing budding white tulips (Éponine's favourite flower) lined the brick pathway behind the gate leading up to the house, like lights bordering a runway. There was a wrought-iron gate painted black that was swinging open on it's hinges and a little black Labrador puppy ran to greet Enjolras as he strode up to the gate.

The door was painted green, and there was a lion head door knocker on it, polished to a shine. There was an aura of happiness about the house, something good, something that radiated positivity and light.

It was Éponine's home.

He hadn't really believed it, deep down. He hadn't believed that Éponine had moved on. He hadn't believed that she had moved in with someone else. He had most certainly not believed that Éponine Thenardier, - the girl who had started humming the funeral song as soon as any programme featuring weddings came on TV - was getting married. But this made it all the more real somehow. And he had to talk to her one last time.

(Because even though he didn't love her - he didn't - Cosette was right. He deserved to get closure. Or something.)

He strode up the path and pressed the doorbell hard with his pointer finger. He saw a figure moving towards him behind the glass, coming into the hallway and starting towards the door. The figure had lighter hair than Éponine and seemed quite petite, even behind the glass. Enjolras squinted. Was that Éponine? It certainly didn't look like-

The door swung open.

Enjolras drew in a breath.

Azelma stared back at him.

It took a minute before Azelma whispered:

"What the HELL are you doing here?"

"Well, hello to you too, Azelma," answered Enjolras regaining his cool. "How are you?"

Azelma slumped against the door, her arms folded. "So I guess you heard about our upcoming nuptials then?"

"Something like that," replied Enjolras drily. "Are you going to invite me in or are we going to have to conduct this conversation on the doorstep?"

Azelma scoffed and straightened up.

"If you think I'm going to invite you in here after what you did," she hissed, he lip curling into a sneer, "Then you must be even thicker than I thought."

She went to slam the door, but Enjolras wedged his foot between it and the doorframe.

"Hang on. I don't know what your sister has told you, but let's get one thing straight. SHE left me. HER. Not the other way around. She left me without explanation, without warning. She left me on NEW YEAR'S DAY, Azelma. And it wasn't just me either. It was Grantaire and Joly and Coufeyrac and Marius ... And Cosette, Alzema, her best friend..."

"Oh, poor you," taunted Azelma. "That must have been awful for you, being surrounded by all of your friends dealing with your "heartbreak"- oh come on Enjolras, you never really cared about Éponine at all did you?"

"That's not true," Enjolras' brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"And all the while, Éponine was out there, by herself, having YOUR ba-"

"Having my what?" Enjolras frowned.

"Nothing," snapped Azelma. "Now, are we done here, because I have somewhere to be."

She tried to shut the door again but Enjolras didn't budge his foot.

"Wait!"

Azelma sighed. "What?"

"Where's your sister?" Enjolras asked urgently. "I'm not leaving until I speak to her."

"She's not here."

"Where is she?"

"She's at work."

"It's a Saturday."

"She's gone to the park."

"By herself?"

"With Gavroche."

"Gavroche hates the park."

"Did I say the park? I meant the cinema."

"Oh, really? What did they go to see?"

"Um, you know, the movie -with the person with - the, uh, hair."

"Oh really?"

"Yep."

"Her car is in the driveway."

"She WALKED."

Enjolras sighed.

Azelma smiled smugly.

"She's not here, Enjolras. And even if she was, she wouldn't want to speak to you. So just do us all a favour and go home. And don't bother us again."

Enjolras' shoulders sagged.

Azelma shook her head at him one last time and went to close the door.

Enjolras curled his fists into a ball.

But before Azelma could shut the door, a voice floated down from the top of the stairs.

"Azelma? Are you there? Could you come up here and help me? Who was at the door?"

Enjolras's eyes widened and he snapped his head around to look at Azelma. She bit her lip.

It was Éponine.

Enjolras was not one for brute force; nor did he condone violence of any sort; and he was surprised at himself afterwards, because he had always thought he had the upper body strength of a fourteen year old girl; but at that moment, he shoved the door open, -much to Azelma's protests- and forced his way inside.

He ran down the thickly carpeted hallway (thick carpets - when did that happen? Éponine had always been more of a wooden floorboards and threadbare rugs kind of girl) and turned around widly searching for Éponine. He looked to the left at the stairs, raised his head-

"Enjolras."

and he saw her.

He gaped.

She looked good. The year had served her well. Her cheeks were rosy, and her face was dotted with freckles. She had put on a bit of weight, which made her look fuller and healthier. She did not look happy to see him but Enjolras' heart couldn't help but ache when he recognised those brown eyes and pink mouth. The biggest change was, of course, the huge sparkling rock on her left hand - the sight of it made Enjolras' stomach lurch and he shuddered inwardly.

But all of these factors combined was not why Enjolras gasped.

There was someone else at the top of the stairs with Éponine.

A little someone.

A little someone that Éponine was holding.

It was baby.

A baby girl.

A baby girl with blue eyes and a head of blonde, curly hair.

Just like Enjolras.