A/N: Thank you so much for over 100 followers! And only 10 chapters in! WOW! Very honored. :D So, I'm in my home-state of Texas for a week, but updates and such will still come regularly. Remember to drop me a note!

Pairings: E/É; more to come

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Mis.

To Be Hurt and Healed

Sitting deep within an old boat, filled to the brim with blankets and old apple cores, Enjolras once again let Éponine's words process through his mind. His father had thought... that? Leaning forward, his legs hanging over the side of the boat, Enjolras rested his head in between his knees. If his head hurt before, it was pounding relentlessly now. Beside him, Éponine said nothing. He had to be told. Éponine had been listening the whole time to Enjolras tell Vipond that he was still confused as to why he had been forced into the marriage. It hurt Éponine to know that no one had yet told him; he had some right to know his father thought he was interested in men, not women.

While Éponine was still brooding and hurt over Enjolras' rash actions several days before, she thought it best to tell him where he could pace and scream at her all he liked, be his true self. She was surprised, though, when he did practically nothing. She was tempted to lay a hand on his shoulder, but she resisted, too scared she might slap him again, or he her.

"He really meant that?" he asked after a long silence.

"Yes," Éponine said quietly.

Enjolras leaned back, keeping a hand on his forehead, covering his eyes. He breathed deeply, and Éponine knew he was trying to calm his temper. She blushed at the thought that she was getting to know his habits, his emotions. She looked away and rested her hand on her mouth. Suddenly, Enjolras was up and heading for the door. Éponine struggled, momentarily stuck in the boat. She wiggled her way free and sprinted after him, out of breath by the time she reached him.

"Where are you going?"

Without breaking stride or turning around, Enjolras rounded the house, heading for the small stables. "To visit Bertrand, of course."

There was a pang in Éponine's stomach. He'd said Bertrand, not Father. Dear God, this was serious. Enjolras might snap his head off clean in two. Éponine was concerned for her father-in-law's safety, though she didn't wish to be, she couldn't help it. It was her nature. She reached out a hand and grabbed his elbow; it shocked the both of them. Enjolras stopped and turned around, staring at her, livid.

Éponine spoke quickly. "Let me go with you."

Enjolras took a step back, breaking their contact. "What?"

"I'd like to go with you. You need someone there so you won't commit murder." She smiled faintly. Enjolras looked to his left, thinking, maybe.

"I'd wish it if you stayed here."

"I know," she replied coolly. "But, I'd like to go."

Enjolras put a hand on his hip and ran the other hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. Here she was, Éponine, the woman he'd shook and practically pushed into a lake. Here was the woman who had been bought to whore herself for him. Here was the woman who was still angry with him (He could see it in her eyes) and yet, she still wished to go with him, to support him. It was mind-boggling. He nodded.

"Oui. You can come..."

Éponine smiled sincerely and Enjolras, against his own will, felt his heart clench. He'd never seen her truly smile before; it was beautiful. He looked away, started for the stables, and once again was consumed with anger.

Bertrand leaned back in his oversized arm-chair, staring out the large window before him. The whiskey bottle in his hand dangled between his fingers. Somewhere upstairs, Lindy was squealing over her first grandchild, Charles. Clemence had shown up that afternoon, her newborn son in arm, her husband by her side. Bertrand was tempted and about ready to throw her out into the rain, but Lindy had turned the corner at the exact moment he opened his mouth. For once, her happiness was all that mattered. He allowed his daughter to come back into the house, and it felt good to see her again, as hard as it was to admit.

The rain continued to pour, much to his delight. Rain was his favorite, no matter what. Just as he was about to nod off into a light sleep, the front door burst open and he heard a call for his name. Bertrand jolted from his chair, walking to see what was the matter.

The voice had sounded like Rogier.

He exited his sitting room and was met with a firm punch to the jaw. Bertrand fell back against the wall, his eyes seeing spots, his chin smarting. A hand latched onto his collar and his eyes refocused, falling onto his only son. For a split second, Bertrand saw Éponine behind Enjolras, looking rather pale and sad.

She'd told him.

"How could you?" Enjolras ground behind a clenched jaw. His grip tightened, and Bertrand felt painful tears.

"What are you talking about?" he choked, trying to make his face seem as calm as possible.

"Éponine. Me. How could you do this to us?"

"Son, what ar-"

"I am not your son!" By now, the foyer had been crowded with staff, Lindy, Clemence, and Simon. "Tell them!" he shouted. "Tell them what you thought about me! Tell them what you did to Éponine!"

Bertrand shook his head. It was getting harder to breathe and Enjolras didn't look like he was going to calm down anytime soon. Enjolras' fingers suddenly relaxed and air flooded back into his father's throat. Bertrand slumped against the wall, gasping. Lindy stepped forward.

"Bertrand, what is he talking about?"

Enjolras paled even further. "You didn't even tell Mother?"

Bertrand laughed shortly and glared at his son. "Don't be silly, Rogier. Of course not!"

Lindy's voice, more determined, sounded again. "Tell me what?"

On a burst of confidence, Enjolras turned around and stared at his mother, feeling nothing for them any more. He glanced at Clemence for a second; she offered him a slow smile. Enjolras felt his throat tighten with emotion. Clemence was back. His best friend, his sister... He looked away quickly, afraid he would loose all resolve and break into tears. Although Clemence figured Enjolras hated her, and he figured she hated him, deep down, they both knew how much the other meant to them. They were bound together by the same hatred for their house, their family.

"Your husband was convinced that I enjoy a man's company more than a woman's." Enjolras heard his mother gasp, but his eyes were closed. He felt tears, of all things; they couldn't be set free. He shook them off and opened his eyes back up. "He got drunk one evening, ran his mouth, and bought Éponine's younger sister for me, as my wife. She would be able to fix me. But Éponine came in her sister's place because she thought her sister to be too young."

Lindy glowered at her husband. "You told me you picked Éponine because you were afraid Rogier would be lonely?"

The old man shook his head, smiling. "Ha! I don't give two sous about Enjolras' loneliness!" Bertrand pushed himself away from the wall, slightly hunched over. "I just couldn't stand the thought having a son who did those sort of things! Lindy, if word ever got out, it would be a scandal. We could lose everything!"

"But, how do you even know if your thoughts are true?"

Bertrand put out a hand toward Enjolras. "He obviously isn't making any moves to deny the claims!"

Enjolras shook his head, feeling his heart beat erratically. "No. I am not, Bertrand. And that is because I see no reason in explaining myself to someone who means so little to me." He twitched his nose and walked back toward the door, reaching for Éponine's elbow. "Come, Éponine. Let us leave this place and pray we never have to return."

They left, hearing the ever present sounds of Bertrand's yells and Lindy's soft sobbing.

Halfway through the ride home, Enjolras hit the roof of the carriage twice, signaling for the driver to stop. When the man did, Enjolras flung himself out of the cart and into the tall grass beside them. Éponine remained in the carriage for a moment, thinking he was off to take a short walk, get some fresh air. But then she heard him retching into the grass. She cursed and hiked up her thin skirts, hopping out the door. From there, she moved over to Enjolras' side hesitantly, afraid to spook him, or make him even more angry.

He was bent over, hands resting on the tops of his legs. Bile streamed from his mouth in short spurts. Once Éponine figured he was done, he started up again. For three minutes he kept at it until Éponine finally sighed and rubbed a hand on his back. It seemed to calm him down slightly, at least, enough so that he wasn't getting sick anymore. Éponine felt his clammy forehead. She pursed her lips and drew back.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

Enjolras looked up at her, shaking, his eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You heard me."

He looked back at the grass and slowly straightened up. "Last night... Maybe."

Éponine shook her head. "Nerves and anger and an empty stomach will do that to you. Come on. Vipond can fix you something when we get back.." She gently led him back to the carriage. Once he was inside and situated, pale and cold, she signaled for the driver to resume his drive. Éponine reached forward then and placed her hand on his. Enjolras flinched, but didn't move away. "I felt like I had to tell you."

Enjolras turned his head away from the window and smiled slightly. It caused Éponine to pull back, her hand suddenly warm. "I thank you, from the bottom of my heart," he said. "It finally gave me a reason to be rid of him. It feels.. wonderful." His voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. Éponine thought she heard the faintest twinge of regret somewhere in his words.

Éponine looked up from her lap. "You don't hate him that much, do you?"

Enjolras shrugged and looked back out the door, clearing his throat. "Now I have a right to. Why? Don't you hate him, too?"

Éponine scoffed and leaned backed. "Certainly. He took me from my home, uprooted my whole life, and gave me to a man who-" She held her tongue and sighed. "I'm sorry.. I know this is hard for you.."

"It is I who should apologize, Éponine. I never meant to be so rough with you the other night. I never meant to send you flying into the lake." Enjolras could not tell her his fears: the fear that she had already ruined the revolution. That she had already stirred him, like she was supposed to.

Éponine brushed a lock of hair away from her face and shrugged. "I know this is not what either of us planned for our lives, or what we want, but I think.." She swallowed her nerves. Now or never. "I think that.. maybe.. We could learn to live with this. Maybe we could be.. friends."

Enjolras felt his heart collapse. No, no, no, no! She couldn't be doing this to him! After what he'd said, after what his father had done, she still wanted to be his friend, his wife. Enjolras was struck with shock and pure embarrassment. He could not allow Éponine to be his friend. Like he had shared with Vipond, she would mess him all up; she already had.

For the first time since their wedding, Enjolras actually took four seconds to look at Éponine; actually, study her. Sure, he'd scanned her over a few times before, just to see what she looked like, but he'd never appreciated her undeniable beauty. Éponine was staring at him with wide, brown eyes. She looked as if she was about to cry from anxiety, or whatever it was women cried over all the time. Enjolras, of course, didn't know. Her hair was not an ugly brown, like she thought. It was soft and lovely and tinted from the sun. And her lips. Dear God, her lips. They were plump and soft looking and all he wanted to do was kiss them.

Enjolras, surprised at his own thought, blinked several times, fearing she could read his mind, before righting himself. Now, how to respond to her request. She looked so desperate to have a friend. She really was the poor, the oppressed, the ones he was fighting for. Could she really do that much harm? Probably. Did Enjolras really care? At the moment, no. He was blind with rage and loss. The idea of aligning with this woman who could either tear down all of his well-constructed walls, turn him into something better, or ruin him in one word, enticed him. The thought thrilled him; he couldn't let it pass by.

"I think that sounds like a grand idea," he said. And for the first time in ages, Enjolras felt a bright smile tug at his lips.