4

Gavroche led them through the maze of narrow streets to a building Eponine remembered passing on her way to the square. Unlike the rest of the buildings, this one had only one floor and looked quite squat in comparison, but covered a rather large area. The huge front door was painted a bright red, and there was a large brass door knocker set into the middle. It was the most welcoming building Eponine had seen so far.

Gavroche skipped up to the door and banged on it with his fist. Seconds later, a woman answered the door. She was small and pretty, with dark red hair and blue eyes. The dark green dress she wore had a very high collar that went right up to her chin, and there were several rings on her fingers. Eponine, who had not owned such jewellery since she was a child, stared at the gaudy gems with envy.

"Hello, little one!" the woman said in a happy voice, bending over so that she was on eye-level with Gavroche. "I see you brought us some friends?"

Gavroche nodded. "This is my sister," he said, "And my friends."

The woman straightened up, and smiled at them. "Come in," she said, standing aside.

They walked into a plain, bright room, lit by a roaring fire. There were some simple, wooden benches set against the walls, and an intricately-patterned rug thrown over the wooden floorboards.

Eponine stood behind Gavroche, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"My name is Éléonore," the woman said. "I'm one of the Guardians here. There are several in this centre, but you can find many more in different areas. Our aim is to help newcomers settle in and educate them on where we are and what will happen to them," she explained. "Now, I know you probably have a lot of questions –"

"Yes," Combeferre interrupted. "We do."

She nodded at him. "Yes, monsieur, I understand that completely. But our procedure here is quite simple. Before we have that discussion, you must all be cleaned up. I will take you to some rooms, where baths will be prepared and some nurses will be sent to tend to your wounds. You will be given fresh clothes, and then we will answer all of your questions. We find people are a lot happier when they are feeling comfortable." She ruffled Gavroche's hair.

"We are grateful for the offer," Combeferre continued, "But –"

"Monsieur," Éléonore said, "We really do insist. Trust me, you will feel a lot better, and you're not a pleasant sight to look at, none of you are."

"But –" Courfeyrac tried, but he was cut off.

"If you are concerned about your friends," she said, "Some of them have been rounded up all ready and are being seen to. And we have scouts out looking for the rest as we speak, and some are probably at one of the other centres. Trust me, everyone will be safe. Come, I will have some rooms prepared for you now."

XXX

Eponine was shown into a small room with yellow walls and a green carpet. There was a roaring fire, and a tin bath filled with steaming water in front of it. A dress and undergarments was hanging on the wooden screen in the corner.

Éléonore left her in the company of a servant girl named Penelope. Penelope looked to be about sixteen, was tall and gangly, and Eponine couldn't help but be transfixed by the clean gashes that covered Penelope's neck and chest. She was a very quiet girl, and didn't try to force conversation; for that Eponine was grateful, because she didn't feel like talking.

The girl sat her down on a wooden chair and produced a collection of items from a wooden cupboard in the corner. There was a rough clay bowl, a sponge, and a jar with a screw lid filled with an off-white substance. She dipped the bowl into the bath and wet the sponge.

"Can you remove your clothes, please, mademoiselle," she said.

Eponine felt a little awkward, getting undressed in front of this stranger. She couldn't look the girl in the eye as she began to clean Eponine's wounds. The hand wasn't that uncomfortable, but when Penelope knelt down to clean Eponine's abdomen she felt like protesting.

"There, you can get in the bath now," Penelope said, smearing the off-white paste from the jar onto her wounds. It felt cool on her stomach and hand.

She stared down at the gloopy paste, feeling doubtful. "Won't it wash off?"

Penelope shrugged. "A bit. But it makes the skin shrink – makes them a little less noticeable."

"Will they heal?" Eponine asked, stepping into the bath. It felt lovely, the temperature perfect.

Penelope retrieved a bar of soap from the cupboard, along with a flannel and another sponge. She set them on the floor next to the bath. "It is complicated," she said slowly. "I don't really understand it, mademoiselle. Leave it to Éléonore, she knows what she's talking about."

Eponine sank into the bath. "I don't want my hand stuck like this for the rest of my life," she muttered.

A sad expression flitted across Penelope's face. "No, no one wants to keep these injuries for the rest of their lives," she said. "I hate being one of those who had a violent death, mademoiselle. Those who died of illness or of old age…They are so pitying. And I never liked pity, not even when I was alive."

And with those words, Penelope slipped out of the room, leaving Eponine alone in the bath and with her thoughts.

XXX

After Eponine had bathed, she stood and looked at herself in the long looking-glass that hung on the wall. She was still dripping with water, but she didn't mind – she didn't feel cold because of the fire, she assumed.

The girl that stared back at her was uncomfortably thin and bony, and her arms, face, chest and hands were a lot darker than the rest of her skin. But it was unusual to see herself without any grime covering her body, and she wondered how odd it would feel to see her hair actually clean once the water had dried.

However, the most peculiar thing, in her opinion, was seeing the terrible wounds with no blood whatsoever. They looked unreal in the light of the fire; the odd paste that Penelope had given her had done its job to make the wounds shrink a little, but they were still noticeable and now an odd purple colour.

She shuddered as she looked at them. She thought back to what Penelope had said, about the healing of these wounds being complicated. She really hoped that didn't mean they never heal.

Pulling herself out of her reverie, she quickly dressed in the clothes hanging over the screen. The dress they had given her was very simple, made from a slightly rough fabric that was reddish-brown in colour. They hadn't given her any shoes, so she put back on the boots she had been wearing before. Then she looked at herself again.

Eponine thought she looked slightly more human now that she wore clothes. She even liked the dress, liked the fact she was clean; it made her feel normal.

Not long after she had finished dressing, there was a knock at the door. She stared at it for a few minutes, but then the door handle turned and it opened. Éléonore poked her head around. She smiled at Eponine. "Did you enjoy your bath, mademoiselle?" she asked.

Eponine nodded.

"Do you mind if I come inside?" she said. She was already edging into the room, making Eponine feel like rolling her eyes. There was not even the option to argue.

"Is this the time when you tell me what is going on?" Eponine asked.

Éléonore shut the door behind her. She gestured towards the wooden chair that Eponine had sat on earlier, when Penelope had seen to her wounds. "Please, sit down."

Eponine did so.

"There is no easy way to say this," Éléonore said. "But, you're dead."

Eponine raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I'd worked that out for myself," she said.

"Had you?" Éléonore smiled. "You'd be amazed at how many people simply don't understand…Most of the people who come through our doors are none the wiser until we actually explain to them where they are."

"If this is heaven…" Eponine trailed off. Eponine shook her head, and a second later, Éléonore copied her.

"We cannot say for sure what this is," Éléonore said. "That is the truth. But we know that people come here when they die. It's…It's an odd place, that's for sure. It changes all the time. People come, and people go, but it's hard to say when they will leave. Some people stay here for a matter of days before they are never seen again, and we have no way of knowing where they have gone. There is only one clue, and that clue only comes if they have died a violent death – that is, a death which leaves a mark on the body – because the nearer they come to leaving this place, the more their wounds will heal."

Well, that certainly explained the complicated comment that Penelope had made, Eponine had thought to herself.

"The conclusion we have come to is that, when you die, you must…come to terms with what has happened, before you can move on." Éléonore pulled at the high collar of her dress in an agitated fashion. "Most of this is conjecture, you understand. We don't know for sure what makes people leave and what makes people stay, just as we don't know where they have gone. I myself have been here for over ten years and I have no idea when I will go. I have known people who reckon they've been here for more than fifty years and are no closer to leaving than they were the day they arrived."

Eponine personally thought this sounded depressing, and would explain Penelope's maudlin mood earlier on and the sad look that had passed across Éléonore's face as she spoke.

But then Éléonore forced a smile onto her mouth. "But most of us try to find some sort of meaning, mademoiselle. Some of us become Guardians, who try to assimilate newcomers to this world and help them understand how it works. You'd be surprised how much goes on in this society, too! Arts are very popular. We have theatres now, and books, and education. Of course, there are a lot of people who just sit around because – well, to be blunt, there is no such thing as money here, and therefore no proper jobs…"

"No money?" Eponine echoed. "How do you survive?"

"We do not need to eat," Éléonore explained. "We can, as a pleasantry, but it's not necessary – same goes for drinking. And there is a funny quirk in this place…"

"Which is…?" Eponine prompted.

Éléonore twisted her hands together. "Hold out your palm," she ordered.

Eponine did as she was asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Imagine something," she said. "Visualise it, in your head, and will it to appear on your hand."

It crossed Eponine's mind then that Éléonore was quite mad, but she did as she was told. She thought of an orange, a fruit she had only eaten a few times. She concentrated hard. At first, nothing happened, but then she felt her palm tingling and before her eyes, the fruit materialised.

Eponine stared, and Éléonore smiled. She stepped closer.

Eponine curled her fist around the fruit. It felt weird. Éléonore reached out and took it away from her, and examined it closely.

"Not bad for a first try," she said. "But you missed a few things and it's probably not completely whole, but you'll get the trick soon enough. The point is, nothing here has monetary value when you can make anything you want appear before your eyes."

Eponine continued to stare at the orange now resting in Éléonore's hand. What she would have given to be able to do that when she was alive, and now she had the power it was…pointless, because she was not alive, couldn't be hurt and presumably couldn't die and what was the point of all this, anyway?

But there was not much time to dwell on all of this because suddenly, Eponine's world went black.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited this story so far, I really appreciate it :)