A/N: So I've come to realize a few things this week. One, that Wicked has an awesome soundtrack. Two, I really need to see Jurassic Park 3D, and three, that I'm seriously considering making a sequel to One Day More...? Let me know what you guys think!

Questions

Pregnant? Enjolras thought tensely, turning away as the fiery headed nurse walked towards him feverishly.

The room continued to stir uncontrollably as his eyes searched feverishly for the waif. He made out a few hazy figures surrounding the bed across from him, Joly dwindling in and out of the center every so often.

He felt tears rush to his eyes spontaneously, causing him to let out a sharp cry.

"Don't mind him, he's still quite delusional." She gushed, patting his forehead gingerly with a moist cloth.

Delusional? Then perhaps it had been his nightmares prompting him on the fact that Éponine was with child. After all, it was highly possible, and something he hadn't given so much as a single thought to after the night he spent with her.

Besides, the girl was a waif. The child could have been from another just as easily as it could have been his!

But then he remembered the terrifying truth. He was her first.

Enjolras let out a yelp, catching everybody's attention, then sank back into his pillow and drifted off to sleep, his face contorted with worry.

"I'm worried about Monsieur Enjolras, Monsieur Joly. Should I take him to his own room again?" The nurse asked after moving a piece of her curly hair behind her ear.

"Yes!" Éponine gasped, choking back tears, "Please do."

Joly grimaced, "If it makes you feel better…"

"Yes it does."

"Very well then." Joly cleared his throat, "Madame, take Enjolras back to the third floor."

Julie nodded and carried on upstairs to ready Enjolras' previous room once more for him.

Éponine shook her head and dug her fingernails into her hair, pulling the strands forward. Grantaire and Courfeyrac watched in absolute awe.

"You – you're, um…" Courfeyrac muttered.

"Don't talk to me, both of you!" Éponine grumbled, wiping her bitter tears away from her cheeks and shoving her face in her pillow, "You've ruined my life!" She barked at Joly, who was just on his way to help relocate Enjolras.

"How is it my fault?" He gasped, placing a hand on his hip absent mindedly, "You could've never known about you dilemma and voila, one day, you'd give birth!"

"But I don't want a baby!" Éponine retorted.

"Well you should have thought about that before you – um,"

"I should have never!" She screamed before finally closing her bloodshot eyes and resting.

Thoughts flew through her mind so quickly that she began to pant.

Had Enjolras found out? His entire reputation would be shamed if he did.

What a father he would be! So fixated on Patria that he wouldn't even give a single thought to his child - or the mother.

No one did.

His delirium was a blessing to them all, for without it, they would have to face his bitterness and heartbreak due to the loss of his battle and now, a baby on the way, with none other than the helpless Éponine.

Her thoughts had boiled to a point where she could feel them wearing her down. How she wished that the bullet she had taken for Marius had penetrated her heart, killing her that instant, for the moments that were to follow, would hold much more pain and sorrow.

What would Marius think of her? Surely he wouldn't think her any less than a hussy, and a slut. He already thought so little of her there was no room left for good in it anyways...

"Stop sobbing!" Courfeyrac begged, putting his hand on Éponine 's shoulder, "So what? You're pregnant! Haven't you always wanted to be a mother?"

"No." Éponine spit, batting away his hand, "And don't touch me either."

"My apologies…" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and exchanged a glance with Grantaire, "So, um, who's the father? Do we know him?"

"Is he from our school?" Grantaire added, slightly annoyed.

"It's not Marius is it!?" He gasped, covering his mouth and turning a sickly green colour.

"No you idiots!" Éponine snapped, clenching her teeth, "Don't ask me! Don't talk to me! Don't you to have something better to do?" She shook slightly from her tears then took a deep breath and turned to face the boys.

"No, we really don't."

Éponine 's eyes widened and she narrowed them quickly, pursing her lips, "Fine."

"Can we at least guess?" Courfeyrac suggested, a smile creeping up on his face.

"No."

"Is he dead?" Grantaire asked, leaning forward.

"Stop it."

"Well is he?"

"Grantaire –"

"Please tell us." He begged, grinning from ear to ear.

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded, "Yes."

"Merdre!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, "Did he die at the barricades?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word and the light fell from Grantaire's eyes.

"Yes. He died at the barricades." Éponine lied smoothly, wincing at the memories, "No more questions for today."

"Tomorrow?"

"Never." She grimaced, turning away from the two and throwing the covers over her head.

...

Night fell sooner than expected, probably as a result of how frequently Éponine drifted off to sleep and soon again met the eager eyes of Courfeyrac.

Grantaire seemed less enthusiastic about the ordeal, probably as a result of his soberness. The boy hadn't drunk a single bottle for weeks on end, and even thought Madame Julie prompted him often with bottles of brandy or wine (in moderation), he refused to drink them. He was slowly beginning to become more cynical than he was in the first place…

"Éponine ?" Courfeyrac asked suddenly, shifting slightly underneath his covers.

She refused to answer. What did he want? The boy had never spoken a word to her before in her entire existence with Marius. Why had he taken such a keen interest in her life all of a sudden?

"I'll come over there if you don't answer."

"Don't you dare." She stressed, emphasizing each syllable.

Courfeyrac grabbed his crutches and limped across the room swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed and resting them on the night table cautiously.

"What do you want?" She moaned, rolling onto her back and sitting up.

Courfeyrac scanned the room slightly, then whispered, "It's Enjolras, isn't it?"

"Who is?" Éponine flared, her heart racing quicker than it ever had.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I really don't." She exclaimed, shaking her head and averting her gaze, "Goodnight Courfeyrac."

"He'll be a good father I know, he's just a little –"

"Goodnight." She muttered once more, pulling the covers over her head angrily and muffling her tears with the pillow, "And not a word of this conversation to anybody. Do you understand?"

Several seconds passed before Éponine heard a faint "Yes," in return.