In The Rain: On His Own
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Mis.


Warning: Enjolras is still suicidal, but he does not try actively.


Just call me if ever our paths may collide
I want you to call me under these darkened sky's
Whoever you love, whoever you kiss
The wandering between us I'm willing to miss

Now I'm drifting out over deep oceans
And the tide won't take me back in
And these desperate nights I'll call you again and again

(Between us ~ Peter Bradley Adams)


"Thank you.", the woman almost cried of happiness when he gave her one of the last loafs he had. The woman held a small child, barely a year, which was wrapped in a thick blanket, in her arms and hugged Enjolras awkwardly.

She jumped away from him when she heard the sound of a pebble hitting the wall next to them. Enjolras stood in front of the woman protectively only to see a group of crooks.

At their side stood a young woman he recognized immediately. Eponine.

Her long brown hair was astray, there were even more bruises on her arms as usual and her eyes, that usually either glinted with mischief or hopefully in love when Marius was in the room, her eyes looked dull. He felt himself raise a brow when he saw the cheap metal band around her finger. Eponine was married? Since when?

Maybe this was the reason why she did not come to the barricade. At least she did not die for his cause as well. But she did not look happy. Something was wrong. Maybe she was grieving her brother.

If that was Eponine then the group she was around with must have been the Patron Minette. He scanned the group of men. One of them had the same eye colour as Eponine and must have been her father. Another one wore an identical wedding ring as her. Her husband.

Eponine looked at him but there was no recognition of him in her features. There was no emotion at all in her features.

Before he could call out to her he could feel the last loaf of bread, he still had in his hand, be pulled from his grip and the next thing he knew was that Eponine's husband and her father had started hitting him.

He felt their fists meet his face, his arms; felt their knees and feet meet his stomach and back. Without taking his gaze from Epoinine he crumbled to the floor. He tasted blood on his lips, but that did not matter.

Something was seriously wrong with her. He knew the only thing she had grown afraid of was her father and his gang, knowing what they would do. But that did not keep her from fighting them. Even if they blackmailed her, she would at least show some emotion.

Even if she did not recognize him, which he could not blame her for, she would at least show the disgust she held for her father and his minions in her face.

That must have been his fault. Because he was unable to protect her brother he was dead. The only one he ever heard her voice her worry about, except for Marius, was her brother's well-being. She was broken because her brother was dead. Her brother was dead because of him. He was responsible for Gavroche's death. He killed him. He broke her.

The realization hit him harder than each hit by Eponine's father or husband.

Maybe this was what he had to see before he was allowed to go. The consequences for what he had done. Or rather had not.

How he wished everything had ended differently. How he wished he had died along with his friends instead of Gavoche. If only he had not been so utterly useless.

Eponine would not have to suffer so much.

Without looking back she left alongside the Patron Minette while he lay on the floor beaten and battered. But alive. He swore inwardly. He just wanted to die. Why was he not allowed to go? Why was he denied the comfort of death, of not having to see the suffering he had failed to end, of not having to see the harm he had done.

He laughed bitterly. He would just lay there on the floor until his time had come. It did not matter if it took two hours or twenty years. He would lay there on the cold floor, beaten and bruised until it was all over.

He could hear Coufeyrac tell him in his mind to get his act together, but he could not bring himself to do so. He would never be the same. He could not picture himself declaring revolution, could not see himself fight something that was not right.

He just wanted to turn back the hours and stop himself from his foolishness. He wanted this all to be a nightmare that he would wake up from the following morning. He wanted it all to be over.

With Eponine's broken look burned into his mind he fell asleep.

He was just as broken as her. But she had people around her, at least physically. He was all alone.

On his own.


This is a bit short I'm sorry. But writer's block struck me. Didn't know what exactly to write. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

~Liliana-chan