A/N: I am so, so sorry! I know that this update took long, but school kept me busy and, on top of that, I had a complete creative block! Couldn't write, couldn't play...so, I kinda based Enjolras' character in this one on myself. Though I'm not that depressed :P And yeah, even though it may seem like Enjolras is already feeling something for Eponine (in a romantic way, of course), he certainly is not! That would be too easy, wouldn't it?

P.S. The part of Eponine's monologue is borrowed from a song that is very dear to me, You Take My Breath Away


11. You Take My Breath Away


The darkness caressed the man sitting in front of piano.

With shaking hands, he tried to get himself to play. A slender finger pressed the key, and a shivering tone broke the heavy silence, vibrating through the space.

And then, it faded away.

The man was not able to play anymore. He was like a broken string puppet, left there to rot without purpose. Unmoving and empty.

He couldn't hear the music.

Another tone echoed through the room, quieter, just a ghost of the previous one.

And all the man could hear was a gunshot.


'She will live', Joly proclaimed, sweeping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, 'but we should move her to some place more...hygienic. Enjolras?'

He liked to think that he is a good observer. That he can read people as easy as his political books.

He also liked to think that he is a good friend.

So, why is it, then, that this one person managed to crash all of that within a single moment?

His whole world is falling apart and he can only stand on the edge and watch it happen.

'Enjolras!'

He raised his head only to see that everyone, except little Gavroche who was sleeping soundly in Courfeyrac's lap, trails of tears still visible on his face, was looking expectantly at him.

'Your place is the nearest, is it alright to move her there?' Joly asked, worriedly examining his friend's pale face.

'What? Oh, right, right, of course', Enjolras replied. Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged looks. He took this entire 'Shady thing' quite badly.

'Look Enj, it's not like this is your fault, you know', Ferre said to a man, trying to reassure him. 'She took the bullet for Marius, it was her own choice.'

'Wait, she did what?!' Prouvaire gasped at the words. Enjolras frowned, deep in thoughts.

'Just think about it for a second. Why did we start to call her "Marius' shadow" in the first place? And on top of that, she continuously delivered letters for him, never asking for anything in return. She must be in love with him so deeply that she was even prepared to die in his place.'

'It makes sense', Enjolras replied, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders.

It was her choice.

But Marius was in danger because of you.

The thought crept into his mind, feeding with his remorse.

She was on the verge of death because of you. Every pained sigh out there, every tear, every wound...everything is your fault. And it was all for nothing.

'Would you care to help us?' Joly hissed at him while carefully lifting the limp body, earning a warning glance from Combeferre.

'Be easy on him, he's going through hell right now', he whispered to a young doctor.

'We all are', Joly replied. He was completely worn out and unable to control his words, but a sight of Enjolras' hunched, hopeless figure softened the hard lines around his mouth.

'Enj?'

He stood up at the sound and gently took a small light figure in his hands, not letting the others help him. This was the least he could do.

Ten minutes later, Eponine was carefully put on Enjolras' bed.


When Gavroche finally woke up, he had no idea just where he was. His back ached, probably the fault of his crumbled sleeping position on the red sofa. He stretched himself like a cat and, equally silent, started to sneak around the apartment.

'Finally awake, I see'

Gavroche snapped his head at the words.

'Gosh Courf, it's just you', a small blonde sighed. 'Where's Ep? Is she 'lright? Take me to 'er!'

'Calm down boy, she is alive and well, for the time being...You should probably ask Enjolras if you can see her, I'm afraid I cannot help you here', a man replied, ruffling the boy's already messy hair.

'She's my sis, why should I ask him if I can see 'er.' Gavroche pouted.

'She is in my room. Come with me.' Enjolras appeared at the door, along with other members of Les Mis.

'Why's she in your room, M'sieour? Why not the hospital?', the boy frowned, glaring at a tall man who walked beside him.

Enjolras felt a corner of his mouth twitching upward. The boy was smart, much like his sister.

'My place was closer. We couldn't take the risk of travelling while her wounds are still fresh.'

It seemed like his words satisfied the boy. Enjolras opened the door that led to his room, and Gavroche froze on the spot.

'She looks like a ghost. Is- is she really alive?' he whispered, tears filling his baby blue eyes.

Enjolras was tormented by the sight of a trembling boy. He didn't know what to do; he was never as good with children as Courfeyrac. Much to his relief, Gavroche angrily wiped his tears and rushed to Eponine's side, taking her hand into his small one.

Enjolras left the room. It was too much for him to handle.


Two days after the revolution

Loud knocking interrupted the conversation between Les Amis, who were gathered around the table in Enjolras' kitchen. He stood up and headed to the door.

'Identify yourself', he demanded.

'Goddamnit Marble, just open up already! I'm not really able to stand, the ground is shaaaaaaaaking!'

Enjolras quickly opened, and the drunkard almost fell through the door. How he regained balance with one arm plastered and the other one holding a bottle, remains a mystery.

'Are you mad?! You've got a serious concussion, you should be resting!', Joly shouted at the man, appearing besides him.

Grantaire blinked. 'And when the hell did you appear?'

The others watched as the rage distorted Joly's usually benevolent face. You could survive the barricade, but you couldn't survive Joly's wrath.

'What's that in your hand?' Venom dripping from his lips.

'Geez Joly, and you call yourself a doctor? It's a medicine, of course!', Grantaire winked, a large grin spreading across his bruised face.

Bahorel sighed. The drunkard was digging his own grave.

'ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?! YOU JUST-'

'Shhhhhh! You will wake her!', Gavroche hissed, glaring at Joly. Rage left him instantly. How was he supposed to say to this little boy that his sister might not ever wake up?

'Waaaaait a minute. Are you -hiccup- saying there's a girl in Enjolras' bedroom?' Grantaire gasped, moving his healthy hand to cover his heart, mimicking the utmost shock. He rushed by Gavroche with an envious speed for someone whose veins were pumped with wine instead of blood. Seconds later, he returned to the kitchen, pale as death itself.

'I solemnly swear that I will stop drinking', he said, once again putting his hand over his heart.

Disbelief was written on every face in the room.

'Grant, you should've listen to Joly and rest, you obviously aren't well', Bahorel said, watching his friend like he expects him to drop dead at that very spot.

'I never thought that I would say this but- I'm too drunk. I entered Enjolras' room and saw Shady...but he had a long hair a-a-and he looked like...like a girl! I'm so drunk that I started imagining things!', Grantaire cried. Other men exchanged looks.

'You know, Grant', Prouvaire started with a wry smile. 'I never thought that I would say this, but- it's not alcohol's fault this time. Shady is a girl.'

The man looked completely stunned.

'And there I was, ready to give up my precious bottle! Though that scene finally makes sense now...', he finished, deeply in thoughts. 'Gavroche? Come 'ere for a sec. Tell me, did Shady ever tell you why she joined Les Amis?'

Enjolras frowned. What was Grantaire doing?

Gavroche jumped in Courfeyrac's lap, who was already pretty much used to it. His five sisters always made him thought of how nice would it be to have a younger brother.

'To tell ya the truth, she never spoke about it. Though she mentioned some boy once...'

Grantaire smiled.

'Yes, that time at the barricade... it all makes sense now', he muttered to himself.

'What makes sense?', Prouvaire asked curiously.

'What? Oh nothing, nothing. Just something I overheard at the barricade', he winked mischeviously.

'This is not fair! You have to tell us now!', Combeferre pleaded. Everyone except Enjolras, who was in his own world, looked expectantly at Grantaire.

'Nope!', he replied. 'It's my and Shady's little secret!'

One by one, his friends left. 'I'll take him to my place', Courfeyrac whispered to Enjolras, lifting the sleepy Gavroche from the sofa. He nodded.

'Call me as soon as she wakes. Day or night.', Joly said, reassuringly stroking his shoulder. He nodded again.

Soon, he was alone. Moonlight falling through the window, illuminating the crimson wall covered with plans of a failed revolution. The colour wrapped around his neck, choking him, words like 'liberty' and 'equality' piercing his heart. In an outburst of rage, he teared everything from that wall of shame down, stopping only when the bare colour was left.

Nothing changed. He was still like an empty, lifeless shell.

His steps were grave as he walked to the piano. Music was the only thing left for him to cling onto, everything else became dust under his fingertips.

A shivering tone broke the silence, resonating through the space. His hands froze.

He couldn't play anymore. Music fell silent.

Suddenly, from the top of the pitch-black hole of sorrow that Enjolras was in, a sound could be heard. Deliriously, he followed the sound that led him to his room. There was a girl, lying unconsciously on his bed, auburn hair scattered around her peaceful face. A sigh escaped her half-parted lips.

Is it possible? Is it possible that she is...that she will...?

Maybe she won't be a part of his atonement?


Everything was black and silent.

Is this how hell looks like? Eponine always imagined it to be terrifying, but this...this was far more than that.

Why was she alone?

The sound of breathing made her jump in fear.

'Parnasse? Is that you? Stop it, this isn't funny!'

No response.

She tried to walk, she tried to run, but wherever she went, everything remained the same. Black and silent. She couldn't even hear the sound of her own footsteps.

'Eponine'

A sudden light blinded her. She knew this voice, she would recognize it anywhere.

'Enjolras? Where are you? I-I'm...I'm scared', she whispered.

The feeling was too real.

She saw his tall figure among the blackness, his back facing her. She tried to catch up with him, but the distance remained the same no matter how fast she ran.

'Wait for me! Stop!'

...

'Please'

He stopped, like he was waiting for her to say something.

Her heart was beating at unimaginable speed as the words rolled from her lips like pearls.

'Look into my eyes!'

Painfully slow, he started to turn.

'Look into my eyes and...you'll see', she continued in a soft voice.

'You've captured my love, stolen my heart. Changed my life.' She couldn't stop the words that were flowing from somewhere deep inside of her.

'Every time you make a move, you destroy my mind. You can reduce me to tears with a single sigh', her eyes pleaded, her lips whispering the words like a frantic prayer.

'So please, don't go', she whispered. 'Don't leave me here all by myself!'

And just as he finally turned around, a bright white light blinded her once again.

And she could hear...


Enjolras was playing. His eyes shut tightly as his fingers danced on keys, barely touching them. A melody of Chopin's Nocturne muted the sound of gunshots.

And Eponine's eyelids fluttered.


A/N: Oooookay, maybe this was a bit too fluffy after all.

Claimer: I own everything. My dear friend Hugo left it to me in his will. Sadly, it dissapeared, so I can't prove it.