"Can I get you anything?" Corinna asked as she was about to leave the bedroom, the gamine volunteering to take the watch. "Something to eat, drink?"

"No, but thank you." she replied, fiddling with the edges of the borrowed skirt. Corinna had not taken "no" for an answer once she had her mind set on making sure that the guest in her home had something decent to wear, over the tattered clothes she had had on before. "What you have done for me is enough. I am not even sure if I can accept your offer of lodging."

"It is a tight space here. Not much room at the moment, between you, the children, Monsieur Enjolras, and I, but arrangements can be made without an issue."

"Pardon?" Éponine asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow. "Monsieur Enjolras?"

Corinna gestured towards the man in the bed. "He's a family friend, almost a brother to me."

The gamine nodded in understanding, then shook her head at the realization of her mistake. "I'm sorry. I did not realize—"

"No need for apologies, dear. It is not your fault for not knowing such bit of information."

Éponine still could not help but feel at fault in some way that she had not known, though. She should have known, perhaps even figured out by subtle hints. The woman had the children avoid him, make sure they hadn't seen him, out of fear of what horrors would have taken place had they recognized him. She was protecting them from him, not wanting them to see him suffer, and at the same time, she was feeling the pain of watching him, witnessing his suffering. Such amazed her, that the woman, whom she had been scolded to refer to as "Corinna" and not "Madame Combeferre," had taken charge of his care, maybe struggling to ignore the fact that she knew the man, this Monsieur Enjolras, and seemed to hide it so well...

"Are you sure you are not in need of anything? When was the last time you had something to eat?" Corinna asked with concern, her arms folded over her chest.

The gamine shrugged. "I have found scraps here and there, but not much as of late."

"I'll bring you something, then." Corinna promised before curtly nodding and exiting the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Éponine sat in the dark room in silence, watching the shadows reflected on the walls from the moonlight. She had not much else to do, other than to make sure the man had not done anything to cause himself any further injury in his unconscious state.

She had no intention of spending much time here, as much as the mistress of the house insisted upon it. She disliked the feeling of being pitied on because of her societal status, among the lowest of people. She disliked the feeling of people assisting her because they felt sorry for her, as if donating a few sous would save her from the mess of the life she had. It was bothering her that she had a roof over her head for the time being, that she was wearing clothing that was practically new and without wear, that within a few hours' time she would not have to go to bed hungry.

She could take advantage of the opportunity and escape. The window was low enough where she could exit the home without causing herself much harm, and Corinna would be at least twenty minutes before she would return. It was almost too easy.

Yet she had promised her to watch Monsieur Enjolras while she prepared a meal for her, herself, and the children, and to inform her of anything that might lead to a reason for concern. If the man woke up in a panic, she was told to call for her immediately. If he screamed or started thrashing about, she was ordered not to hesitate in shouting Corinna's name. If she noticed anything odd about his unconscious state, the same applied.

As tempting as it was, leaving was not an option she could choose without having the feeling of guilt lingering around.

Should have left you in that window, she thought harshly. Someone would have noticed you alive sooner or later.

She scolded herself for such thoughts for how many times, she lost count. She meant them for a few moments then regret settled in. She knew she had done something right, something good, compared to what most of her family had done for years. She did not cause harm nor pickpocket nor assist her father in one of his many schemes. She saved a life, a man's life! Instead of robbing his soon-to-be corpse she saved his life. She did not intentionally cause harm to him and was now working through to keep him alive, without any expectation of payment.

From her seat, she could hear his slow and ragged breathing, watching his chest rise and fall each time. As far as she could tell, he was not struggling to breathe as much as he had the previous night, where the two of them had sat drenched in rain and practically soaked in his blood. Corinna had been kind and gentle enough to remove his blood-stained shirt in exchange for one of her spouse's, making the claim he would not mind, especially in such circumstances.

Compared to the night before, he looked rather peaceful. Corinna had taken some attention towards the dirt and gunpowder with which his face and neck had been covered in, mixed with grime and dried blood, giving the contradicting appearance towards the cruel reality he had been put through. The woman had even spent some time trying to clean-up his mess of curls, but with little success. Had she not known of what he just went through, she would have mistaken him for someone who was sleeping after a long day at work.

"I hope you don't mind stew." Corinna said as she handed the gamine a bowl of it. Éponine had not even heard the woman come in.

"It's fine. Definitely much better than what I've had as of late." the gamine replied, accepting the warm, still-steaming bowl. "Thank you."

The woman nodded, then leaned against the wall and folded her hands over her stomach. She had an overworked appearance, dark circles underneath her eyes, her dirty blonde hair in a messy bun. The gamine could sense the woman had not slept well recently, or had gotten little sleep, but there was something else there, too. Mourning, grief? She could feel the depressed air about her, watching the woman occasionally look out the window, to the ceiling, as in wonder, or perhaps pleading, questioning.

"Is everything alright?" Éponine asked after finishing the remaining broth. "I understand if it may not any concern of mine, but if I could be of any help? Listen, if that's what you need."

Corinna smiled slightly, turning her head back towards the window. "Just thoughts, dear. Nothing that can be fixed."

"What thoughts, then?" the gamine set the bowl down beside the chair. "What can't be fixed?"

"Nothing you need to fret over."

"Is it the children? Did they do something?"

"Hm? No, not at all." Corinna dismissed with a slight chuckle. "I mean, they're children—they'll do what children do, but no, they have not done a thing."

"Have I done anything? Was it something I did?" Éponine asked, a little fearful of the response she may receive. "Or something Monsieur Enjolras did? I apologize if either of us—"

Corinna shook her head, walking over to place a hand on the gamine's shoulder. "What happened is not your fault, nor was it that of Monsieur Enjolras. It just happened and it cannot be fixed. Something beyond my control."

It almost sounds as if she's trying to convince herself of that, Éponine thought, trying to ignore the woman's hand on her shoulder. "What was it, then? What was beyond your control?"

"My…" she started to say, but stopped as if she came to the conclusion that that was a detail she was unwilling to share. "Éponine, Mademoiselle Jondrette, whichever you prefer, I must ask you to stop this and refer to another subject."

Éponine sighed and gave her a curt nod, taking from the tone that to continue would not be a wise choice. She could not, however, take from her mind the curiosity involving the source of the woman's grief.


"He is a strange fellow, is he not?" her father asked as they cleared the table that night. "After all he has been through, he is still a jolly soul."

"You did not have the misfortune of watching him wish death upon himself." Cosette said almost inaudibly, picking up a cloth napkin and wiping a plate with it. "Had to coax him out of it, the poor thing. It was a wretched thing to hear."

"Such is understandable, though." her father replied sympathetically. "He lost everyone he cared about. He was the sole survivor of that barricade, the last one still breathing."

"What of the man in the red coat?" she asked, remembering the man's words from earlier that day. "He spoke as him being the last one standing after he lost consciousness."

Her father shook his head, as if disapprovingly or he wished not to share such a detail to her. What had already been spoken throughout the course of the day was more than what she was supposed to know as it was. Any further information for her to have could be considered unwise, especially with her being the sheltered creature she was.

"Have I said something wrong, papa?" Cosette innocently asked, setting the dish and the cloth down before walking in his direction. "What went wrong?"

He took in a deep breath before answering, and once more shook his head. "It was nothing you said, Cosette. It is just there are some things I wish I did not know the answer to, or did know the answer to."

"Then what of the man in the red coat?" she repeated gently, placing a hand lightly upon her father's wrist. "According to him, he was the last one standing, but to him and I, whoever he may be, his fate remains a mystery."

"It depends of which one you speak of."

"Their leader, he said." Cosette replied with a curt nod. "He does not know what became of him. My thoughts were if there was any chance that man survived, then perhaps the fellow on the couch would not be so set upon his wish for death."

"Unfortunately, that is not an answer I can supply." her father answered with a slight shrug. "I know of whom he speaks of, but by the time I found him, there was no sign of the other."

"So not even you know?" it came out like a question, but practically sounded like a statement.

"I am afraid not." He walked over to the doorway to look out to where the man lay sleeping, a trace of moonlight reflecting off the left side of his face. "A shame, though, all who died there. They were too young, had such a long life ahead of them. Bright futures, now lost."

"At least one was saved." Cosette said quietly, walking to her father's side. I hope it's worth it.


Until Corinna had exited the room after putting the children to bed, she had not realized how exhausted she truly was. She had barely slept in the past few nights, between troublesome thoughts and the children, both who had insisted in waiting for the two men to return.

Gratien had been the easier one, only asking about his father and when he would return, which she had not been able to answer until late last night, when the officers arrived on her front steps to inform her of what had happened. She could barely keep the tears in then, and still, within the following twenty-four hours, preventing them was not any easier. She couldn't bring herself to tell him, not yet.

Maximilienne had been the stubborn one, which was apparently an inherited trait when one was referring to her. Both of her parents were almost just as bad, something she had witnessed firsthand. However, the little girl was persistent, not quick to back down, regardless of what she was up against. It had taken almost two hours to get her into bed. She had kept begging for her papa, asking when he would be home, asking for a story or a lullaby to help her sleep, but she insisted it had to be her papa and no one else. The only reason she had finally managed to get the little girl to sleep was that the child had worn herself out during her fit.

Upon returning to the room where Éponine sat while Enjolras laid sleeping on the bed, the gamine made her point clear, insisting that she should rest and she would remain keeping watch for the night, allowing her time to rest before the sun rose again. Without enough energy to argue with the gamine, Corinna had turned around and headed to her bedroom, alone, where one side of the bed remained empty the entire night.