So... Uh... Long time no see? I'm REALLY sorry this took so long! Like, over a year long... Mental health, trying to get into university, writer's block... 2 out of 3 figured out. Writer's block, obviously, and as for uni... Go Badgers! Mental health? lol nope. Still working on that one. But yeah, I finally updated. hopefully I will again soon. Go check out my other Enjonine fic! Eponine's Tale! Not complete! Mostly! Planning to do a bit of editing. But go read and review it, sil vous plait. Also, reviews are highly appreciated here. They motivate me to try to push out more chapters. Unless I have major writer's block, which I don't anymore, so it should work. I have ideas again. Anyway, enjoy! (and maybe review?)

Chapter 9

Eponine sat alone in an alley, regaining her breath after the adventure she'd just had. She had spotted Javert just in time to sound the alarm for the Patron-Minette, who had been attempting to con a man and his daughter. His daughter. The girl who had caught Marius' heart in the blink of an eye. His daughter. She wasn't really his daughter. It wasn't just any man with a girl.

She'd seen them before, so long ago... Everything had been different. And then that man had shown up, and taken the Lark away, and over the course of the following three years Eponine's world had been thrown upside down.

"Cosette... Now I remember... Cosette- how can it be?" Eponine shook her head. She couldn't believe it. After all of these years, the Lark – the girl who had once been so far below her, who had been miserable, pathetic, worthy of nothing more than Eponine's scorn – was back in her life. "We were children together." She scoffed and looked down at her hands, which were dirty, rough, and calloused. Her arms were bruised and battered, and she was basically nothing more than skin and bones, covered in rags. The Lark, on the other hand, had gone from an ugly duckling to a swan, and was clothed in pretty dresses. Their lives had reversed. It was a cruel joke.

She sighed and sunk to the ground against a wall. "Look what's become of me..."

It was completely unfair. What had she ever done to deserve the life she had? Sure, her parents had always conned people, and Cosette had always been tormented. Sure, she had taken part in it, but it wasn't her fault. It was her parents' fault. They were the ones raising her and her siblings. They were the examples. What choice had she had? It was all she'd known. Children learned from example, how could she be blamed for the example she'd had from her parents? It wasn't fair that she was now being punished for their faults.

Biting her lip, she lifted her head and looked up. Her eyes brightened as she saw Marius approaching her, and her heart soared in her chest. Eager to impress him, she quickly got up and rushed over. "Good God, oh what a rumpus," she said, commenting on the events that had just occurred with Javert.

"That girl... who could she be?" Marius wasn't even really paying attention to her. His mind was on Cosette, who had run off with her adoptive father while Javert was focusing on Eponine's parents.

"That cop, he'd like to jump us. But he ain't smart, not he!" Eponine bragged, trying again to catch Marius' full attention.

"Eponine, who was that girl?" Marius asked, ignoring her comments. Her heart sank. He was smitten already. All he wanted was to know about Cosette, and his eyes were distant and dreamy. She hated it.

"That bourgeois two-a-penny thing?" she scoffed, trying to sound dismissive of Cosette.

"Eponine, find her for me?" he pleaded. He may as well have slapped her across the face, it would have had the exact same effect that those five little words had on her – only the red hot imprint his hand would have left after the impact would have hurt less than his words did. Although the mark left by the words would last longer than a mark from a slap. Not that Marius would ever care, she was beginning to realize as a lump began to form in her throat. Still, she wasn't going to give up on him so easily.

"What will you give me?" she asked, swallowing in an attempt to look more composed than she felt while trying to keep things light-hearted and teasing while her stomach agonizingly twisted itself into knots at the knowledge that he couldn't care less about how she felt, and that e would likely never care at all.

"Anything!" was his instant, desperate response. His eyes were pleading and hopeful. She fought the urge to melt at his sad puppy-like expression the way she always did, the way he knew she would.

"Got you all excited now, but God knows what you see in her," Eponine commented cheekily, forcing a smile. "Aren't you all delighted now- no!" She pushed Marius' hand away as he tried to give her a coin. "I don't want your money, sir," she all but spat at him in annoyance. Was that all he saw her as, after all? Just someone he could pay to use?

Beneath him. That was where she stood, as she'd always known, and now here he was, rubbing it in without a second thought.

He didn't even seem to care that he had offended or upset her, as he grabbed her arm desperately, stopping her from walking away.

"Eponine, do this for me," he pleaded, and she felt her heart melt again as she reluctantly turned to look at him. She quickly regretted the action as her eyes met his, and she knew she was losing the fight. "Discover where she lives. But careful as you go, don't let her father know. 'Ponine, I'm lost until she's found!" The look of desperation and helplessness in his eyes had her trapped. She could never refuse him.

"You see, I told you so," she said, forcing a smile. "There's lots of things I know. 'Ponine, she knows her way around."

Marius smiled happily and squeezed her hand in thanks before running off, and the smile faded from Eponine's face. Why could she never say no to him? She would die for him if he wanted it, but no. All he wanted from her was someone to run errands and find pretty little bourgeoisie girls for him.

He only ever really pays attention to you when he needs you to do something for him, such as deliver a letter. He is simply taking advantage of you... Enjolras' words from a few days earlier echoed in her head, and she dug her nails into her palms, hating herself for not being good enough, and hating him for being right. Why did he have to be so right?

Frustrated, she shook her head before walking away to find Cosette. What Marius want, Marius got when Eponine was involved.

Eponine knew nearly every street in Paris like the back of her hand after years living there. And she knew exactly how to find the Lark. As much as she didn't want to give Marius the information on the girl who had so quickly caught his attention, a part of her was desperately hoping that by doing so, she would impress him and win his favour.

Deep down, a part of her knew that such attempts were really nothing more than hopeless daydreaming, that Enjolras was right and it was really all in vain. But she couldn't help it. The hopeless daydreams were all she had in her pathetic, pointless existence. There was no harm in feeding the daydreams, was there?

A small voice in the back of her head that sounded annoyingly like Enjolras told her that there was. Rather than act on the impulse to turn around, hunt down Enjolras, and smack his infuriating smirk off of his stupid face, she chose to push the voice aside, and continued on along Rue Plumet, making up her mind to avoid him from now on, knowing that more like than not the next thing he said to her would probably be along the lines of 'I told you so'.

Her father had had Eponine and Montparnasse follow the man who had adopted Cosette for a few days to learn his habits so that they could con him that day, and she remembered that he lived on that street. Of course, there was no way she was going to tell Marius that particular detail, and she wanted to be sure she had the right address to give him. Not because she wanted him with Cosette, but because she wanted him to be grateful to her. She wanted to see the smile on his face that she would cause by making him happy. More than anything else in the world, she wanted him to admire her, to be impressed by her. It meant everything to her.

She felt a rush of anger that after years of trying, she still hadn't managed to impress Marius as much as she wanted to, while all Cosette had needed to do was walk past him batting those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers, and her perfect, golden ringlets. It just wasn't fair! But then, nothing in her life was fair, she reminded herself. She was ugly, worthless, and used, while Cosette was beautiful, charming, and pure.

And now Cosette had Marius. Well, she doesn't yet, she thought to herself as she went. She doesn't have to. I can change my mind, keep Marius from her. Keep him for myself.

Just ahead, she saw the familiar gate in the fence around a lovely garden. And within the garden was Cosette. The Lark. I all of her shining glory. Bright blue eyes, flawless fair skin, lips as red as strawberries, and hair as golden as the sun. And she was reading. Reading! Of all the things, she had to be reading.

Eponine felt a sudden surge of anger. Not only had Cosette become beautiful and well off, she could even read. She felt her face grow hot. She couldn't even hold a book the right side up, as Marius had seen for himself already that day.

Maybe that wouldn't matter. Maybe she could still win him. With a defeated sigh, she turned and ran back the way she'd come to find Marius so she could bring him to Cosette.

"Marius, you're late," Enjolras said in annoyance as the other man practically floated into the meeting, nearly an hour late.

"What's wrong today, you look as if you've seen a ghost!" Joly exclaimed, rushing over to check his friend for symptoms of some disease or another. Enjolras couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Some wine, and say what's going on!" Grantaire insisted. Enjolras quickly turned towards the drunkard with a glare.

"A ghost, you say?" Marius said, in a daze. "A ghost, maybe. She was just like a ghost to me. One minute there, then she was gone!"

Enjolras groaned inwardly. Not this. Anything but this.

"I am agog, I am aghast!" Grantaire announced, getting to his feet. "Is Marius in love, at last? I've never heard him 'ooh' and 'ahh'." He turned towards Enjolras, who met his gaze with a disapproving glare as Grantaire gestured wildly towards him. "You talk of battles to be won, but here he-" at this, Grantaire shifted his wild gesturing to Marius, "comes, like Don Juan!" He laughed loudly and stumbled, falling onto Marius' lap, something the other man clearly wasn't comfortable with. "It is better than an opera!" As he pulled himself back up, he paused to kiss a flabbergasted Marius on the cheek before stumbling off in search of more to drink.

Enjolras sighed in annoyance, and attempted to bring the conversation back to more important things. "It is time for us all to decide who we are," he declared, raising his voice to speak above the dull roar of laughter and conversation that had been inspired by Marius' lateness and Grantaire's drunken antics. "Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now? Have we asked of ourselves what's the price we might pay?" To his pleasure, he had once again captured all of their attentions. Relieved, he continued. "Is this simply a game for rich, young boys to play? The colours of the world are changing day by day." He had worked on this speech for two weeks, and he was very pleased with it. Now that he had regained the attention of everyone – even Grantaire – all should be well. "Red: the blood of angry men! Black: the dark of ages past! Red: a world about to dawn! Black: the night that ends at last!" He felt his chest swell with pride at the applause that met his words. The more successful the speeches, the more motivated to gain extra support everyone would be. He was about to continue when to his annoyance Marius interrupted.

"Had you been there tonight you might know how it feels," he said dreamily, "to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight. Had you been there tonight you might also have known how the world can be changed in just one burst of light. And what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right."

Why, of all the terrible things that could have happened to Enjolras, had he been cursed with Marius? He'd always frustrated Enjolras a bit, but now, here he was, a lovesick puppy, and everyone was now distracted. He looked to Combeferre for help, but all the other man could do was shrug helplessly. Everyone was stuck on Marius and his dream girl. Things couldn't possibly get worse. They just couldn't.

But then they did.

"Red!" Grantaire called, egging Marius on.

"I feel my soul on fire," Marius sighed.

"Black!"

"My world if she's not there!"

Enjolras continued to look desperately at Combeferre, but even he was chuckling a bit. This was a sick joke. It had to be. That or some horrid, twisted nightmare. There was no way that this was actually happening to him.

"Red!" Grantaire cheered, along with the others. Great. They were all distracted. It was happening. His hands balled up into fists and he struggled to continue to breathe calmly, determined not to lose his temper and start shouting at all of them.

"The colour of desire!"

"Black!"

"The colour of despair!"

Enjolras had reached his breaking point. That was the end of his patience. They were turning his speech, his hard work, his passion, into nothing but a joke. That was taking it way too far.

"Marius, you're no longer a child!" he snapped, drawing the attention back to himself. "I do not doubt you mean it well," he added as he caught the pointed look from Combeferre that told him he needed to tone it down a bit, "but now there is a higher call! Who cares about your lonely soul, we strive towards a larger goal! Our little lives don't count at all!"

Satisfied that he had their full attention again, and making a mental note to do his best not to complain when Combeferre scolded him for being so hard on Marius later on, which, of course, was inevitable, he reclaimed his speech from Marius and Grantaire's twisted version that distorted it from something brilliant about revolution to highlighting Marius' problems with women.

"Red: the blood of angry men! Black: the dark of ages past! Red: a world about to dawn! Black: the night that ends at last!"

Determined to take advantage of their attention while he had it, Enjolras quickly launched into the important questions he had. "Well Courfeyrac, do we have all the guns? Feuilly, Combeferre, our time is running short-" he cut himself off to turn to snap at Grantaire in exasperation as the drunkard grabbed yet another bottle of alcohol. "Grantaire, put that bottle down!" Turning back to Feuilly, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac, he repeated his earlier question. "Do we have the guns we need?"

Rather than the answer he wanted, he got a drunken remark from Grantaire. "Give me brandy on my breath, and I'll breathe them all to death!" The comment received too much enthusiastic laughter for Enjolras' liking. His patience had worn thin. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to start yelling.

However, to his surprise, he didn't have to start his usual rant about focusing more on the revolution rather than goofing off all of the time.

"Listen everybody!" yelled a child's voice suddenly, and everyone turned to look. Gavroche was there. "General Lamarque is dead!"

Stunned silence met the gamin's words. They had all known that Lamarque was ill, and fading fast, and that he wouldn't last more than a week, but they hadn't expected it to be now.

"Lamarque is dead," Enjolras said quietly after a few long moments. "Lamarque- his death is the hour of fate!" His voice began to rise in excitement. "The people's man! His death is the sign we await!" At once, all of Les Amis turned their attention back to Enjolras, like moths drawn to a flame. "On his funeral day they shall honour his name with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes! With their candles of grief we will kindle our flame! On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise! The time is here! Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer! Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts, but a jubilant shout! They will come, one and all! They will come when we call!"

They were all excited now, and he could feel his heart racing with excitement. Years of careful planning had led up to this exact moment.

"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men?" he asked. Now that he had them going, there was no way he was going to let them be so easily distracted again. "It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"

As Combeferre began to speak, taking over, Enjolras felt his heart sink a little. Eponine had entered at some point, and Marius had gone over to her, a look of excitement in his eyes. What errand did he have her set on now? From the broken, sorrowful look that he could only just make out in her eyes behind the forced smile and joy on her face, he knew that it couldn't be something she was happy about.

Marius looked briefly at Enjolras with a rather dumb, lovestruck expression, and Enjolras glared back, knowing full well that he was intending to leave now, and then he was gone, running off after Eponine. Whatever it was for, he couldn't care less.

Chances are he asked her to find that girl he was going on about, he thought. No wonder he looked so excited to see Eponine while she looked so broken. I told her so. Not that it matters now. The revolution's here. And Marius had better be ready to fight with us, and not moping like a lost puppy over some girl.