The King's Man: Chapter 9

Enjolras ripped the flier off of the wall. He was going to kill Combeferre. For the first part, he wasn't even done with University yet. Secondly, no one in their right mind would elect a twenty one year old as a representative in government! Combeferre was going to pay for this.

As he briskly walked to his best friend's apartment, people congratulated him on the street. He kept his face stone cold. What did these people know? They hadn't won yet? They were nowhere near winning. Right now, France was in a heated mess. Like a messy sort of mess, but with heat applied to it, making it even messier. While it was true that the revolutionaries held the upper hand, with control of all public buildings, the treasury, and supply houses, they were in unorganized mess.

So far, they have managed to give out rations to the poor, released all of the wrongly placed prisoners and people on parole, crack down on corrupt officials, and cleaned up the damage of the explosions of the barricades. But there was still so much to do. For example, establishing equality among the classes of France, erasing the class boundaries, making sure the entire world knows France belongs to the people now, making sure the people know France belongs to them, reforming the education system…the golden haired leader of the rebellion was certainly not looking at where he was going when he bumped into a tall and skinny sort of man who was entirely dressed in varying shades of brown. Startled, he looked at the balding man. It was one of his professors at the University, not to mention a key figure in the formation of the student societies, James Wetherbee. Enjolras remembered the first words that popped into his head the first time he had stepped into Professor Wetherbee's classroom. Tweed and British.

The student made a hasty apology to the stern professor. He dreaded making bad impressions on his professors in general. "Pardon me, professor. I wasn't looking where I was walking. See you in September!" The young man made a move to walk out of the situation at top speed, but the British professor grasped his arm firmly.

"Gabriel" he said in his intense way of speaking, "Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!" Enjolras was still dazed at the sudden encounter, but he opened his mouth to answer, but was immediately shushed as the respected professor reached into his jacket pocket to hand Enjolras a thin envelope. "Here. You're a shoo in for office, but they'll be announcing the news as tradition. Personally I think this tradition is one we would do better without, but the committee says it will gain the favor of the rich and bourgeoisie, so who am I to argue?"

The man in varying shades of brown swept off his iconic rounded top hat and bowed to the young revolutionary before he strode carefully out of sight. Enjolras briefly glanced at the envelope in his hands before continuing on his way to Combeferre's, not exactly sure what was going on.

As soon as he got to his friend's apartment, Enjolras began his ten minute rant on how unthoughtful Combeferre was. The medical student simply nodded guiltily with his eyes glazed over; he'd been in this position too many times to count and it still worked like a charm. All he had to do was wait until the storm passed. Enjolras could never stay mad at him for more than an hour. Combeferre wondered how long his rant would last, but then he noticed a letter in his best friend's hand.

The letter was snatched immediately, abruptly cutting the golden haired revolutionary off.

Combeferre read it with his usual lightning, but suddenly, the medical student slapped the paper on the table and howled with laughter. Enjolras was rightly confused; he reached across the table to read it himself. "Give me that…"

He scanned the page for several moments until he found line that had made his friend laugh so hard. Due to your immense show of leadership, courage, and love for your country, you have been selected to be a guest of honor at one of our country's finest traditional events; the Inauguration Ball.

Enjolras paled considerably as Combeferre laughed even harder.

"The mighty Enjolras!" he proclaimed, "Shaking in his boots at the mention of a dance!"

The said mighty one curled up into a ball on the floor. "I don't feel so well"

The medical student checked the invitation. "If it makes you feel better, you have forty eight hours to find a date"

Later that evening at the Café Musain

Enjolras decided he would forgive his friends. He had the feeling he would not be able to rest if he wasn't up there, representing the people, and making some big changes. Enjolras knew that he wouldn't be able to sit back and watch the show as others took the wheels and drove France in whatever direction they were going in.

He walked into the Café fully knowing the entirety of Les Amis (minus the ones who had passed on and either Joly and Combeferre because of their patients) would be there with guilty expressions on their faces as they waited for Enjolras's wrath. But, the leader took pity on them and walked in as if nothing was wrong. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Then he turned on them. This was not something anyone could get off scotch free, of course. "You all owe me one favor each"

To anyone else, this seemed fair, but to anyone from Les Amis, this was going to be hell. Enjolras was a man who knew exactly how to maximize a favor.

"Anyways," Enjolras continued. "Because of you, I have to go to a Ball"

Courfeyrac tried to hide his grin unsuccessfully. "Don't tell me you still are scared of dances because of that one incident in primary school…"

Jehan picked up immediately, "You don't mean the one where little Enjolras tried to dip a fair little girl…"

"And caught her hair on fire?" Marius continued.

Courfeyrac gave a fake gasp. "And did he also get a concussion after—"

"Her father pushed him to the ground" Bossuet added.

Jehan nodded, "I think 12 year old Enjolras's eyes are still swimming with the ghosts of his past"

Enjolras lunged at the poet. "I am 21, I am not afraid of ball room dancing, and my eyes aren't swimming with the ghosts of my past!"

Jehan took this as his cue to run as Enjolras chased him around the Musain. It was almost closing time and the bartender wasn't even paying attention to them anymore and there was no one else in the room. The rest of the Amis were chanting for a fight as Enjolras leapt over a chair to catch the ever elusive Jehan. Enjolras saw his chance, if he jumped down from a chair or something he could gain enough momentum to leap and tackle the pesky poet.

We've all been there. When you are about to do it, it seems like a good idea. But the moment you actually start, it's too late to turn back and you realize how stupid it was. That was what Enjolras was thinking as he saw the gigantic wooden beam fly at his face. Then everything turned black.

Enjolras was unconscious, but his friends rushed towards him. Combeferre checked him briefly before he announced, "Concussion". Bossuet shook his head at the irony of it. Joly was with the special patient, but Combeferre didn't know where else to put his unconscious best friend. Everywhere else was full.

Enjolras woke to a dim room. At first, he panicked, but then he remembered what had happened the previous night. He groaned internally. That was one of the most stupid and embarrassing things he has ever done. In his entire life. That day was plainly messed up, but he decided to make sense of his current situation. Just thinking about what he did made him want to curl up in a ball and hope he disappears.

Combeferre must have taken him to his apartment. This was his spare bedroom that he saved especially for high maintenance patients. Enjolras hadn't been in here since the barricades. He only picked up the sounds of one other person breathing. Was it Combeferre? If not, who?

He made a move to get up, but instantly, his head started spinning. He lay down. He needed to rest.

Enjolras woke up again. This time for sure it was morning. Sunlight peeked through the heavy curtains of the room and Enjolras sat up and stretched. He only has had one concussion before this and he recovered within the day. This shouldn't be any different. Then, he noticed the sounds of snapping and general hustle and noise coming from the other side of the room. There was a screen, but he could see a silhouette of a young woman cleaning the space up. It looked like she was packing. Enjolras guessed she was a maid or nurse of sorts to help with the patients and clean up, but curiosity propelled him. He watched her fold dresses and pants. He watched her tuck her hair into a cap. He watched her for what could have been moments or hours. Something about the way she moved drew him close to her. Something about the way she hummed seemed familiar. Something about her figure made him swear he had seen her in another life.

He leaned as far as he could to see around the screen. His sensitive eyes caught the barest glimpse of a slim figure in an oversized green jacket and a newsboy cap and he knew. Enjolras gasped as he fell back onto his own bed without meaning to.

The girl at the orphanage was right. As soon as she heard the gasp, Eponine Thenardier swung to look at the person on the other side of the screen so fast she knocked the entire structure over.

Combeferre and Joly, who happened to be visiting, burst into the room to see the two staring at each other, frozen.

Then, Joly registered Eponine's packed things. He looked at her. "You need at least another couple days to recover. You haven't even mastered walking again! You are not going out again until the next batch of medication arrives. End of story" He grabbed her suitcase and traded it for a tray of breakfast. "Rehabilitation day for the both of you. Eat up"

Both medical students swept out of the room.

Enjolras was at war with himself. He had admitted to his friends that he was in love with Eponine Thenardier. He admitted it to himself. But was he really? He barely knew her. He only knew what she did. Was he really in love with her? Was he just pretending? She was beautiful, she was brave, she was smart, she saved the rebellion. But that was the extent of what he knew of her.

He shrugged. Now was a better time as any to get to know her and find out for sure.

Eponine, however was frustrated. Enjolras seemed to pick up on this immediately, which only made her even more frustrated.

"What's wrong?" the annoyingly gorgeous man beside her asked. They were both sitting up in their beds across from each other. Eponine took a vicious bite out of her baguette and chewed it violently whilst glaring at the leader. If he was unnerved, Enjolras didn't show it. This impressed her, but she pushed it away. This was not a time to join the fangirls.

But, being trapped inside these walls with no one to talk to except Joly and Combeferre for more than a month was taking its toll on her. Except for the two medical students, no one even knew she was alive. Well, now Enjolras knew she was alive, but still. When she was alone by herself, she had promised to thank him for making the lives of France so much better. She had promised herself to thank him for taking care of Gavroche. She had promised herself to give him back his jacket and his couch. She had also promised herself that she would apologize for playing with him, making him run across France in search of her, even though sometimes it was the highlight of her day. Even so, looking at the golden haired savior of France, she couldn't bring herself to say a single thing. But, she gathered what courage she had accumulated in her recovering from the gunshot wound and opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the marble man himself.

"I promised myself that I would thank you one day for saving France" he began earnestly. "I also promised myself that I would thank you for helping the rebellion. I promised myself that one day I would thank you for changing my outlook on life, but I also promised myself I would apologize for trying to hunt you down"

Eponine had to smile at his intentions. He was really the most chivalrous man she had ever met. "That's a lot of promises" she teased. Then she berated herself. Stop flirting! How is that flirting? Saying anything in that tone counts as flirting so stop.

Eponine swore she could see the barest hints of blush creep across his face, but she dismissed it as sunlight. Enjolras continued. "You're right. It is. But I'm going to thank you for saving France, for helping the rebellion, and changing the way I look at the world around me. And I am sorry for making your life so much harder than it already was. You don't have to forgive me. I'm not asking for forgiveness, but I do want you to at least know how I feel about everything"

But that's not all, is it? A small voice said to Enjolras. Shut up, he replied.

Eponine nodded sagely. "I don't really know what to say. Well, actually, there's this one burning question in my mind. I hope I won't be too intruding…" she trailed off and looked at the man across from her.

"Fire away" Enjolras replied.

She grinned. "Is it true you once dipped a girl and got her hair caught on fire and then got a concussion from her father knocking you to the ground?"

Enjolras groaned, "It was in primary school!"

I've got a happy ending and a sad one...Should I post both?