AN: So here we are, at the last chapter. Thanks for everyone who stuck with me, reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. I'm not entirely sure what I was smoking when I thought this story up, but I'm happy to have shared it with all of you.

Chapter 7: 4:25-6:00 a.m., Sat, June 6


The night had ended quickly and without fanfare. One moment they were alone and the next, the roof was crowded with people pushing them this way and that. Eponine slipped back under her mask and he under his.

That's when he noticed it. The crushing weight of his guilt, the burden he'd been carrying ever since he left the capital, was gone. He wanted to tell her, but held his tongue.

As always, she was too busy looking at Marius.


Enjolras had never been good at physics. The intricate beauty of equations, wavelengths and particles eluded him. He remembered little from his classes in college, but the one thing he did remember was that sound traveled at an average speed of 342 meters per second.

Time slowed. His confession had been uttered but had yet to reach her ears. He relished that last fraction of a second, savored the way she looked at him. As his eyes drank in her features in that exact moment, he swore he'd remember her that way forever.

And then it was gone.

She stared at him blankly, digesting his words with an unusual calm. Six months ago, when Combeferre had knocked on his door demanding the truth, he had been frantic. His lieutenant had begged Enjolras to tell him the rumors weren't true, that he hadn't let his future go up in flames, both literal and figurative. He remembered the way Combeferre's fingers nested in his shirt, the way his eyes screwed shut when he had confessed. By then, Enjolras had already barricaded himself in his apartment to escape the unforgiving stares of his colleagues. He had consoled himself that Combeferre's disappointment would be the last he would ever have to suffer.

Enjolras wanted to laugh. Now, months later, he found himself waiting judgment again.

"Why did you do it?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Why had he done it? The prosecutors had assumed it was to erase whatever part he'd had in Javert's corruption. Combeferre hadn't asked why; he had been more concerned with how Enjolras could have done it.

"I don't know," he answered slowly, pulling himself upright. "I've been asking myself that for the past six months."

Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still smell the sulphur from the matches mixing with the smoke from the flames.

Eponine nodded and flopped back down onto her back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish as she stared up at the heavens. Indigo bled into lavender and at the edge of the horizon, he could see streaks of orange seeping into the skyline.

"You lied earlier. They were all true, weren't they?"

She didn't look at him. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, staring straight at the sky overhead. Enjolras swallowed. All this time he had been dreading the inevitable disgust in her eyes. He hadn't counted on her not looking at him at all.

"I…started making mistakes. Lost easy cases. People noticed. Then, as the investigation continued, they found evidence that didn't add up. There was no sign of a break-in. Javert's autopsy came back negative for any defensive wounds. I was the last person he contacted. Files referenced in his notes were missing. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. At first they thought I did it." Enjolras shuddered. "So when they came for me, I didn't lie. I'd had enough of that. Javert's…indiscretions…were swept under the rug. I was fired and my legal license suspended."

She still wasn't looking at him. Her rejection would sting but at least it would be done and over with. Waiting, on the other hand, would drive him mad because with every second she said nothing there was hope. For what he wasn't sure, but it was there, festering like an open wound in his chest.

"Huh. You win."

"What?"

"I said you were a terrible liar. I guess you proved me wrong."

To his credit, he didn't flinch. He supposed he deserved that. It didn't mean it hurt any less.


They parted under a pink sky. The brilliant oranges, purples and reds of the sunrise had faded, but had yet to give way to the azure canvas of day. There wasn't a need to trudge all the way back down the stairs—Mr. Fauchelevent had seen to it that the elevators were fixed before coming to fetch them—but he stopped off at the 14th floor to pick up his soiled jacket.

Eponine had been surprised to see him again so soon. And when he said he was leaving, for real this time, she hugged him briefly by the pink fridge. For a second, he thought she wanted him to say something. Instead, he'd given her a brief, awkward smile, wished her luck and walked out the door.

He'd always been rubbish at goodbyes anyway.


Peering down from the ledge, Enjolras watched as the city slowly woke from its slumber. Every so often he spotted the occasional jogger clad in neon performance tights, or sometimes a sleepy resident walking an overly happy dog. He gave them stories. The tired housewife taking a quiet early morning walk before returning to her squalling children and philandering husband. A still half-drunk college student stumbling on his way home after a regretful one night stand. The rebellious teenager sneaking back home after a night out on the town.

He wondered if any of them had an inkling their private morning rituals were being watched.

Enjolras had been people-watching for the better part of an hour. At least it felt like an hour. There wasn't any real way to know. He hadn't tried to explain himself any further to Eponine—she'd made her point clear. Instead, he'd scrounged up whatever dignity he had left and resigned himself to the ledge on the opposite side of the roof. If he were lucky, Cosette's father would be there soon and put an end to his misery.

In the meantime, he was done with the stars. The heavens, he realized, held no answers and if they did, he wasn't sure if he should listen. Javert had, and in the end, he had shattered.

"There has to be more."

He breathed in sharply, suddenly aware of the small figure who now stood beside him, looking thoughtfully at the city below. He hadn't heard her coming at all, even with all the gravel under their feet. Enjolras wondered if she always moved that quietly, and if that was why he'd never noticed her before.

"I don't…"

"I've thought it through and it doesn't makes sense." She turned toward him but kept her gaze on the skyscrapers in front of them. "I'm saying there's something you're not telling me."

"What…what makes you say that?"

"I don't buy your excuse. You knew exactly what you were doing. And don't give me that line about saving the department legal trouble."

Enjolras bristled. "And you know me so well."

"Well enough to know when you're being stubborn," she snapped. "You had a reason for doing what you did. I know you did."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I wanted to save my own skin."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"And why not?" he snarled. "Everyone else whispers it when they think I can't hear them."

"Because you're a good person."

He had no answer to that. A feeling blossomed in his chest, one that he had once carried close to his heart but had since lost. It made his heart thump wildly against his ribs, and for a fleeting moment he was young again.

And then he remembered. The shame of his disbarment hearing. The blinking red light atop the camera at his deposition, the metallic clack of the stenographer immortalizing his words in the court records. The way his hands trembled and his stomach sank as he lit the match and watched as orange flames engulfed the manila folder.

"Good people don't do what I did."

She turned to look at him, her eyes surprisingly gentle and a soft smile on her face. "True, but sometimes good people do bad things for the right reasons."

"It wasn't my right. And even when I suspected something was wrong, I said nothing."

"You couldn't have known," she argued. "And if you had, I'm sure you'd have done things differently."

"I'm not so sure."

Her smile faltered a bit. "Why's that?"

"Because he was my friend. Because he paid the ultimate price. He found proof he was wrong and killed himself. If he had kept silent, no one would've known any better. I wouldn't have known better. What benefit was there to his disgrace? Every criminal he ever put behind bars would be filing an appeal," he said grimacing. "But he wasn't always like that. He was a good detective. I…just…I'd rather people remember that."

To his surprise, Eponine's smile grew wider.

"See. There it is."

"But—"

"No buts." She gripped his face in her hands. "Now shush."

Her skin was cool against his cheeks, and before he could protest she was pulling his face down to hers. Her lips, soft yet insistent, tasted of salt and tequila, and his last thought before his eyes fluttered shut was that he didn't know what to do with his hands.

Her fingers trailed the line of his jaw, before twisting in the curls at the base of his neck. She coaxed and teased, her experience evident in the sureness of her tongue. It occurred to him, somewhere between their second and third kiss—or was it their fourth?—that he was pursuing her, that he had tilted his head so he could taste more, that his hands had found the dip of her waist and pulled her flush against him.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and eyes glazed, he rested her forehead against hers. She chuckled, her voice low and husky.

"Why are you so dumb?"

"I don't understand."

Eponine rolled her eyes, and laced her fingers together behind his neck."What you did wasn't lawful, but if it had been 'Zelma or Cosette or Marius, I would have done the same thing. It's okay to be human."

"But…I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it right."

This time, she stepped up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss at the side of his mouth. "You're a smart boy. You'll figure it out," she said grinning. To his disappointment, she stepped out from his embrace and leaned back on the ledge. "Would you look at that? It's almost sunrise."

He followed her gaze and let out a small sigh. The black of night had been replaced by an eruption of color, iridescent shades of flame and blood mixed with sensual purples at the edge of the horizon.

It was almost enough to make him forget she was in love with another man.


That night, he mused as he arrived at his building, would forever be a bright spark in a haze of monotony. Walking into the elevator, he pushed the button for his floor, closed his eyes and rested his head against the dingy paneling. He would always remember her as something wonderful. It went without saying he would always be grateful for what she had done for him.

How she would remember him, he wasn't so sure. He hoped…and then stopped. If all they had was a single night, then that would have to be enough.


The end of their time together was heralded by a loud bang, followed by a flash of blonde hair as he was shoved out of the way by a frantic Cosette.

"Cosette…I can't…breathe…" Eponine choked, but the petite blonde just gripped her tighter.

"I'm so glad you're okay. So, so glad you're okay."

Eponine sighed. "You weren't supposed to find out."

Enjolras felt a twinge in his chest as he watched guilt slowly weigh down Eponine's shoulders. Her face morphed into a carefully blank mask, eyes vacant even as she wrapped her arms around her roommate. Coughing, Enjolras tugged on his shirt collar—which suddenly felt too tight—and turned his attention to the roof entrance.

The door creaked and moaned as it hung haphazardly off its hinges. The only reason it hadn't flown off completely was an impeccably dressed, burly man with graying hair, who was currently doing his best to keep it open for the small crowd that had gathered there. Marius stood a few steps back from his fiancee, his hands jammed in his pockets as he shifted from foot to foot. The bartender—Eponine's sister—was there too, watching the scene with her arms crossed and sporting a red nose and watery eyes.

"You promised you wouldn't do this again. How could you be so incredibly stupid?!"

"Azelma," Marius hissed, waving a hand to shush her.

"Oh piss off," the bartender barked. "You're half the reason we're even here."

Eponine's head jerked up, the color draining from her face as she disentangled herself from Cosette.

"'Zelma…leave Marius out of this. I can explain..."

"Did you even think about me? Or Gav? I can't believe you!"

"Wait, what do you mean I'm half the reason we're here?"

"Can it doofus. This doesn't concern you."

"'Zelma please..."

"Hey, now just you wait a minute—"

Sighing, Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. Azelma was nearly in tears, her voice pitching higher as she swung her arms wildly to emphasize her every word. Marius was equally agitated, his nostrils flaring with each new accusation flung his way. Cosette and Eponine were trying their best to diffuse the situation, but their pleas were drowned out by an ocean of discord. Other than himself, only the man, who he assumed must be Cosette's father, remained unmoved by the conflict.

He eyed the door. It would be so easy to slip away; he doubted anyone would even notice.

"Zelma, it's not anybody's fault!"

"I didn't see him offering to take you home!"

"Enough," Enjolras said wearily.

"Oh excuse me for celebrating at my own party!"

"Marius, darling, please. My father…"

"I said ENOUGH." Enjolras pushed between Marius and Azelma, laying a firm hand on each of their shoulders. "I have been up here all night. Eponine has been up here all night. We are very tired and would like to get off this damned roof. You can discuss this later. Preferably, after some sleep."

Sputtering, Azelma let off a string of colorful expletives as she wriggled and squirmed under his grip. It wasn't until he dug his fingers into her shoulder that she quieted, a look of pure venom marring her pretty face. Marius at least had the decency to be embarrassed.

"A little rest, I believe, would do us all good," Fauchelevent said. He spoke no louder than a whisper, yet his voice seemed to reach out and fill the empty spaces between them. Enjolras nodded his thanks and let his hands drop back to his sides.

"Fine." Azelma snarled before whirling on her sister. "But don't you dare think for one second I'm going to let this go."

Eponine started after her, hand outstretched, but Azelma had already fled down the staircase, her steps echoing thunderously behind her. Enjolras grimaced and looked away, half-certain she would wake the entire city with the ferocity of her stomps.

"It's okay. She's just upset. She'll come round," Cosette said, offering a reassuring smile—one that Eponine struggled to return. If the blonde had noticed, she paid no mind. Instead, Cosette merely patted her shoulder before looping an arm through Marius', tugging him gently toward the door. As they passed, she stepped on her tiptoes to kiss her father on the cheek. "Thank you Papa. Come on Marius."

Enjolras felt guilty then, for his earlier thoughts toward the girl Marius had tied himself to. He had fallen victim to the very prejudices he spent so many years railing against. Yes, Cosette was often surrounded by sycophants and mindless harpies, but he had failed to understand why. Jehan had it all wrong. She was radiant, but her light was nothing like the dazzling rays of the sun. No, he thought. Cosette's light more like that of a distant star—gentle and constant and bright. It was the type of brilliance anyone would find themselves drawn to.

Fauchelevent stared after them, his eyes clouded in a dreamy haze. It was almost as if he were someplace else. Upon closer inspection, his suit was rumpled and though obviously expensive and well-maintained, had seen better days. His face was weathered and lined with wrinkles, the skin ruddy and rough like leather. It was a kind face, Enjolras thought, but one that looked nothing like his daughter's. Perhaps Cosette had drawn all her beauty from her mother.

"Let's not linger," he said finally. His voice was quiet and smooth, but a hidden sorrow colored its low timbre. "You both have had a long night." He held out a welcoming hand toward Eponine, who rushed toward the older gentleman, her thin arms enveloping him in a tight embrace. Fauchelevent merely held her, murmuring soft words of reassurance as he stroked her wild hair until her shoulders stopped trembling. "There, there child. Get some rest."

Eponine gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand before turning toward him. The sight of her nearly broke his heart. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, but oh how they shined. In them, he could see not only her loneliness and fear, but also her joy. In them, he could see her emotions swirling furiously within her like a maelstrom of hope and despair.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shook her head, offering a weak smile before turning on her heel. She disappeared quietly down the staircase, almost as if she had never been there at all.

"You did a good thing tonight," Fauchelevent said after a long pause. "She is…different somehow."

"I did as any person should," he said numbly, still staring at the place Eponine had stood just seconds before. "Her sister asked for my help. I gave it. Inadequate as it was."

Cosette's father tilted his head to the side, his eyes studying Enjolras. "I know that look. You cannot save her. And even if you could, you would need a miracle to do it in one night."

"I can try."

"True. You could." he said, nodding his head. "But you would fail, like Azelma and Cosette and Marius and many others before you. The only one who can save Eponine is Eponine."

"That doesn't mean I can't help."

Fauchelevent chuckled, "What is your name boy? I don't believe we've met."

Though he bristled at being called a boy, he managed to keep his face neutral. "Gabriel Enjolras," he said, holding out his hand. Fauchelevent stilled, narrowing his eyes in recognition. For a split second, he thought the man was about to bolt and leave him stranded on the roof again.

"I've heard a great deal about you," he said, a tight smile on his face as he firmly clasped Enjolras' hand. "You worked with Javert in the capital."

"Yes. I did," Enjolras replied, grimacing. "But I'm sure that's not all you heard about me."

"Bitterness doesn't suit you." Fauchelevent clucked his tongue and Enjolras swore he saw a twinkle in his eye. "If you're not adverse to an old man offering some advice: Bury the man you were so you can become the man you ought to be."

"That's easier said than done…I'm not sure I know who I ought to be anymore."

Fauchelevent's eyes glinted with amusement. "Well, you helped a girl in need. I'd say that's a good start." Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small rectangular piece of paper and offered it to Enjolras. "My card."

"What..but I…" Enjolras paused as Fauchelevent arched an eyebrow. "Thank you sir." He tucked the card into his pocket, pinching the paper between his fingers as if he couldn't believe it was actually there. A part of him burned to ask why but thought better of it.

"Come along now. They'll wonder what's taking us so long," he said as he walked through the doorway and started down the staircase. Halfway down the first flight, he turned back and smiled warmly. "I'll be expecting your call."

Enjolras stared after him blankly, hardly believing his "luck." It was one thing to have met Cosette's father at an engagement party, dressed in his best suit and ready to impress. It was quite another to do so in a shirt missing half of a sleeve and his hand bloodied after spending the night locked up on a roof. Stepping forward Enjolras suddenly felt the entirety of what had transpired that night crash over him like a tidal wave breaking onto the shore. Head spinning, he braced an arm against the doorframe.

They knew his story and he hadn't been found wanting.

Enjolras laughed. For the first time since Javert's death, it felt like he could finally breathe. Overhead, the last pink tendrils of sunrise were dissolving into a bright azure. Sunlight poured down through the clouds, bathing the city's metallic skyscrapers in a golden sheen and for the first time since returning, Enjolras thought the city beautiful. Suddenly, he was glad to have been invited to Marius and Cosette's engagement party. He was glad Combeferre had dragged him, kicking and screaming, out of his apartment. He was glad a drunk girl had vomited all over his suit jacket.

Taking one last look around the roof, Enjolras patted the door fondly before pulling it closed behind him. He didn't know what the future held for him but as he began his descent down the stairs, he realized that he didn't care.

He was glad to be alive and for now that was enough.

End.


AN: And because I love you all, there's an epilogue coming soon.

What, did you think I was really going to leave you all hanging? :)