A/N: What the hell guys. This has been sitting in my computer for four months now (I can see the pitchforks and the nooses emerging now). This chapter's a little shorter (I sidle towards the door), but enjoy!
"You're worried about Éponine."
"Shut your trap, Grantaire."
"You're having separation anxiety. It happens to everyone."
Enjolras glared.
"It's midnight, and she's not returned, and it's driving you crazy."
Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll admit, I'd sleep better if I knew she were not kidnapped."
"Or perhaps you'd sleep better with her in your bed."
In that moment, Enjolras was on the verge of punching the living daylights out of Grantaire, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arm rest. He eventually decided against it, instead sinking back into his armchair upon realizing his energy was better spent on a book. "Why don't you worry less of my sleep and more of the tickets I – "
"What tickets?" a small weak voice drifted from the doorway.
Grantaire leapt to his feet when he realized who it was. "Éponine! You're back!" Grantaire advanced, but stopped with a grimace. "My God, what has befallen you? You look just as you did when you first walked these halls!" Enjolras looked up from his book and realized what Grantaire said was true. Her skirt was torn and muddy, her nails were crusted with dirt, her eyes and nose were red and her hair was as tangled as a mop. She was now propped against the doorway, her body looking ready to drop.
"Mugged." Éponine lowered her eyes. "You needn't worry, I got away, as you now see me here." She turned to the other man. "Enjolras," she croaked. "I need to tell you – "
"Save that thought Éponine," Grantaire cut across. "Now you must wash up and pack, we are leaving for Lyon first thing in the morning." He called in the servants, who were surprised to see the girl covered in filth, but asked no questions as they escorted her to her room. "If you'd excuse me," Grantaire said to Enjolras, who had not budged once, not since Éponine's entrance. "I, too, must pack for the trip."
"Do not empty my cellars, Grantaire," Enjolras sent him off with a warning, though his concern did not truly lie in his wine stock. On the contrary, he found his worries concentrated on Éponine.
What had she been about to say? Why had she been crying? Why –
Here you go again, quipped the little diabolical voice in his head, being distracted by the likes of a simple flower girl again. Putting her tears before your duty, putting her petty issues before your great country.
Enjolras shook his head violently. He couldn't and wouldn't let that girl distract him again. He returned to his books, delving once again into what he deemed actual matters at hand. However, he soon found himself needing to reread chapters over and over again, and it sent him reading well into the night, until the last embers in the fireplace were beginning to die out and his eyes were beginning to feel like marble. After returning the book to its shelf, he headed up the staircase back to his bedroom, thinking about the soft luxurious mattress that awaited him.
But then he paused outside Éponine's door.
Was that...sobbing?
He stood still for a moment, listening, his stomach twisting ever so slightly at each sharp intake of breath between the sobs. There was definitely something bothering Éponine. Enjolras' hand moved to the doorknob, contemplating entering the room. But then he paused.
He wasn't Éponine, he hadn't the guts. What was he to say? What was he to do? Comfort and empathy were never his forte.
He withdrew his hand, and walked on.
The next morning Éponine was just as she'd been the previous morning. Her eyes were once again alive with obstinacy and she brought him coffee with that familiar confident swagger. Either her mask had slipped back on, or Enjolras had dreamt that shattered, dirt-covered girl last night.
He went with the latter, blaming it on separation anxiety.
"How on earth could you get the wrong train station?"
"How on earth could you let me lead you to the wrong station?"
"How on earth was I supposed to know you'd do that?"
"He's Grantaire, Enjolras," Éponine interjected quietly. "You should expect that of him."
"I wasn't speaking to you!" snapped Enjolras.
"Oh don't you dare speak to the lady like that!" scolded Grantaire.
"You have no right to tell me how to speak now! I trusted you to help me do one simple task as to finding the bloody train station, and you heck up!"
"Hey! You – "
"Boys!" cried Éponine at last. "If you both would stop bickering, we can still get to the station in time! So...so shut up!"
The two men fell silent, but continued to glare daggers at each other with such intensity Éponine swore the whole street could feel the tension. Which was why she was beyond elated when they arrived at the station, where she was the first to leap from the carriage the minute it rolled to a stop, the first to escape that stifling atmosphere of hostility.
"If we miss the train, Grantaire, it's all your fault," Enjolras growled as he dismounted, snatching his luggage from a rather timid and terrified driver.
"Then let's get going," huffed Grantaire, as he fetched his and Éponine's luggage. Éponine went to get it from him, but he insisted, "It'd be faster I carry it. We don't want to incur the wrath of Enjolras the Dictator, do we?"
How Éponine wished Grantaire knew when to keep his mouth shut.
"I," growled Enjolras as he stormed towards Grantaire, his face blacker than a winter's night, "am not a dictator!"
"Messiurs!" Éponine half-shrieked as she leapt between the two. "Ceasefire! Right now!"
For few tense moments, Éponine genuinely feared for both her and Grantaire's life. Enjolras was giving Grantaire a glare fiercer than a hundred suns, his fists balled by his sides. His jaw was tight and lividity surging across his features. Éponine watched with mounting apprehension as his arms trembled from the effort to control himself, her heartbeat only calming down slightly when they finally stilled. Keyword slightly.
Enjolras did not advance further, but he still looked all ready to strangle Grantaire any second. Fearing that her imagination become reality, Éponine promptly swiveled him around and shoved him towards the entrance, reminding him that boarding the train in time was now of paramount importance.
The mention of the train seemed to knock the two men to their senses. Momentarily setting aside their friction, the trio rushed into the train station, with Grantaire in the lead as they raced towards the platform.
"Grantaire!" The doors slammed shut just as Grantaire dove into the train, hauling along his and Éponine's luggage. Almost immediately, the train began to pull out of the station. He whipped around, ready to boast about how timely he'd been and how Enjolras had been too paranoid...before he realized that Éponine and Enjolras had not made it onto the train with him.
Instead the two were stranded on the platform, running after the train, both hollering his name.
In spite of himself, Grantaire felt a smirk slipping onto his face. Serve Enjolras right, for not being fast enough –
Grantaire did a double-take at his wristwatch. Hold on. This wasn't right. Was the train not scheduled to leave only in forty minutes time –
He turned to the conductor, who was looking on bemusedly. "Hold up, is this the train to Lyon?"
"No Lyon," the conductor replied ruefully. "Geneva."
It turned out, the three had been on the right platform, but Grantaire had headed for the wrong side. Enjolras was grateful he had the sense to keep the tickets on him. Forty minutes later he and Éponine were on the right train to Lyon, Éponine without her luggage but on nonetheless.
"So...are you still mad at him?"
"Mad at who?" asked Enjolras.
"Why, Grantaire of course," Éponine said. "I do so wonder how he managed to hop onto the wrong train."
"It is my guess that he hadn't the time to have his daily dose of wine."
Éponine raised an eyebrow. Enjolras shrugged nonchalantly.
"Separation anxiety – it happens to everyone."
A/N: Grantaire's misadventure is based off my uncle's - he literally got on the wrong train to Lyon while heading to Geneva, with my aunt's wallet and phone and luggage. Also, this chapter bears some historical inaccuracy when it comes to trains, but hey, it's fanfiction, who cares? Btw, happy barricade day! *cue exit*