Hey everyone! SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT. Just a really horrible case of writers block, I suppose. Well, enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think! As always, reviews are better than cookies. And to the reviewer who wants to use the same sort-of beginning in their own fanfic: Of course! Writers take from everything they read, so be my guest :D
VII.
Gridlock on the parkway now, the television man is here to show you how
The channle fades to snow, it's off to work you go, but at least the war is over
The day was certainly not turning out to be a particularly favorable one for Enjolras. He had been forced to work much later than usual, about four hours, because his co-worker (whom Enjolras believed to be even more incompetent than the monarchy) had decided to not come into the law office at all. Doing the work of two men was not a new phenomenon for him, but he nonetheless found it quite annoying. Walking home in the dark much later than he was used to, he stumbled over dips in the road and fought with his growling stomach which was growing more and more impatient. 'I hope Eponine has something waiting', he thought wistfully, but he knew it that wasn't going to happen.
Hungry enough for even Eponine's cooking; he picked up his pace until the familiar glow of his small home came into sight.
Once through the door he hung his overcoat on its designated hook and looked around. He couldn't place it, but something was different. He asked into the empty room,
"Eponine?"
Eponine, clad in her nightdress and slippers, emerged from the other side of the partition without making eye contact. She turned her back to him, her long dark hair flowing freely behind her, took a small bowl from one of the shelves, and filled it with water from the bucket on the floor.
Enjolras thought this behavior odd, but looked past it and decided to pay attention to the knawing in his stomach. He asked her as he brushed the snow from his curly hair,
"Did you happen to make supper, Eponine?"
She had disappeared behind the partition once again, taking the bowl with her. Her voice was muffled by the wall when she answered, 'There is some chicken and bread on the shelf. We are out of wine.'
She probably drank it all, Enjolras thought as he unceremoniously grabbed a plate and piled cold chicken and slightly stale bread onto it. Sometimes Eponine would take it upon herself to drain their wine supply when she would find herself particularly bored, which suited Enjolras just fine. She was accustomed to the alcohol and didn't become intoxicated, while he preferred water. The taste of wine was still foreign and a bit sad to him. He took a large bite of bread and looked up to see Eponine standing in front of him.
Her hands were clasped behind her back, and a toothy smile was spread across her face. Her eyes were sparkling with a hint of mischief. He swallowed his food roughly and said, "Yes?"
She kept smiling. "I may have found something on my way home today."
Enjolras titled his head to the side and took another bite of bread.
"You may have found something?"
"Oh, stop being so snarky! I did find something, and I know you are not going to like it."
"Is that why you look so happy, then?" She ignored his quip and continued, "Now, before you get cross with me, I do promise to bring it back tomorrow. It's just that it's so cold out, and the children in town are awful, they would have probably done something to-"
"Eponine!"
Enjolras interrupted her hurried babbling and motioned for her to settle down, already dreading the whole situation. "Just tell me, what on earth did you find?"
She took a deep breath and turned on her heel, disappearing one last time into the bedroom and returning with what Enjolras thought was a rat at first glance. At second glance, the small mewing thing in Eponine's hands was a kitten.
The tiny thing was scrawny, a bit mangy, and did not appear to like being held in Eponine's grasp one bit. It had white fur but dirty paws, one ear was drooping slightly and a small yellow patch of fur was on the very top of its head.
She finally gave in to the creatures incessant mewing and squirming, setting it down on the floor where it clumsily pawed at the ragged hem of her nightdress.
While the dark girl looked absolutely delighted, Enjolras had a scowl plastered across his handsome face.
"Eponine..."
"Yes?" She swished her skirts to further tease the creature as she answered, not looking up at Enjolras once. She was certainly something else.
"We are not keeping that thing in the house."
"Oh, and since when are you in charge?" She stopped swishing and placed her hands on her hips. "I did say I would only keep him for tonight! He was all alone, in the snow, and I know that those dreadful LeBlanc boys would have hurt him! There is a stable, down the street from the butchers, where he can catch mice and sleep in the hay. That's where I'll take him tomorrow."
It was more of an order than anything. And what did she mean in charge? Enjolras had never not been in charge. And if he wasn't, then who was? Certainly not Eponine, although she talked like she was. No, this skinny street girl wasn't about to start making joint decisions.
"Alright, but I do not approve. One bit. I mean it, Eponine."
Alright, she would make the decisions just this one time. He was in no mood to argue further with her, and he was too tired to care as much as he would have normally. He had to admit, the stupid thing did seem to make her happy. He found himself enjoying the smile on her lips and the way her dark hair moved as she swished her skirts for it to play with. No, being this tired was certainly not having appropriate effects in his mind. He took a bite of chicken and bread, and then turned his gaze to the snow swirling in the dark in an attempt to think of other things. He heard her say as she scooped up the kitten and walked back into the bedroom,
"We can meet half-way, we could name him Liberte or Robespierre or something."
Enjolras raised one eyebrow at this and stood up from the table, his dinner gone. He brushed past her, his brown jacket brushing against the sleeve of her soft white nightdress, and said, "We are not naming it anything."
Why would we have co-ownership of the little rat, anyway? This is purely Eponine's doing, Enjolras thought as he roughly removed his boots and sat at his desk. He heard a soft huff from Eponine as she sat down by the fire with the kitten in her arms, now playing with the long strands of her hair.
He opened one of the books he had been revisiting, a book summarizing the French kings, and tried to get Eponine's smile out of his mind. He was quite sick of being both annoyed and flustered by her in the same moment.
The desk was stacked with books and parchment; mostly just notes and observations. Enjolras used to do this after his classes and before meetings at the café, looking for good speech-making points and loopholes in laws. It had felt strange, these past months, to not ruffle though the old pages every once in a while. He had slowly fallen back into it, making new notes on his old notes. He had to stay busy, right? That's what he remembers reading about war survivors, anyway. Busy is good. Although, he hardly considered himself a survivor of war. It had felt like it at the time, bullets flying past his head and his friends falling dead around him, but it only lasted two days. Two days didn't make a war; he couldn't put a name to what he had gone through. Not quite a revolution, not quite a war. Maybe it was nothing, after all.
As he was reviewing a piece on Louis XVII he felt something tug at the fabric of his trousers. He looked down to find the rat, his small claws stuck on the clean hem. He looked back to his books and impatiently pushed it away with his foot. He muttered, "Get away!"
Only a moment later he felt the same small tug and looked down once again to see the kitten, at it again. "I said, get away!"
Instead of being deterred by Enjolras' scolding, Eponine's new pet decided to leap onto his lap.
"Eponine!"
Eponine, who up until then had been stocking the fire with more wood, laughed and walked over to fetch the kitten. She scooped him up and said, "I think I shall call you Enjolras. You are about as stubborn as the original, after all." She placed the kitten by the fire again, where she had set up a small bowl of water, a few small pieces of chicken, and a ratty old hand cloth for a makeshift bed. It obediently pawed at the cloth a few times, then curled up and shut its eyes.
"What are you reading, anyway?"
He sighed and shut the book, getting up from the desk and effectively giving up on anything productive. "Nothing."
Once he reached the bed and turned he layed on his back, pulling the thick woolen blanket around him and staring up at the ceiling. He felt Eponine crawl in next to him, hardly making a sound. She was like a street mouse.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Eponine."
"I am not stupid; I can tell something is wrong. You don't have to tell me why, but at least admit to it."
He didn't answer her, still staring up at a crack in the ceiling. He just wanted to disappear for a while, sleep for a few months and maybe it wouldn't be so hard. Life, just life. Living with it, with the memories of the barricade, was exhausting.
"It won't help, you know."
Enjolras turned to look at her, curled up on her side and facing him. Behind her, the light from the fire lit her up like something from a fairytale.
"It won't help if you shut it all up inside of you. It will have to come out eventually."
He looked away from her and back at the ceiling without saying a word, knowing that what she said was true but not wanting to do anything about it.
"I was there too, Enjolras."
She didn't say it with an accusing tone, meant to be mean. It was more of an offer, like she was telling him she knew what he was feeling and she wanted to help. Or just listen, because help didn't seem all that realistic. He looked over at her again and replied,
"I know, Eponine."
His voice was soft, like hers had been. What he really wanted to tell her was that he was sorry, that he was the one who led them all to their deaths. If anyone was responsible for her pain, for his pain, it was himself. He never meant to hurt anyone, let alone someone like Eponine.
He felt her thin fingers intertwine themselves around his cold and callused ones. She had moved toward him only a few inches, her head close to his and her eyes now closed. He stared at her like that for a few moments. He traced the delicate lines of her face with his eyes and was overcome with the need to do something for her, to kiss her on the forehead or the cheek to let her know just how sorry he really was. He settled for softly squeezing her hand, resulting in a small smile on Eponine's face that Enjolras could tell she tried not to show.
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters pertaining to Les Mis
