ENJOLRAS:

"Ah!" He rubbed his left arm. A subtle, but painful fire seemed to be running along his forearm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"You don't look it. What's wrong with your arm?" Christophe Delaurier continued to press.

"Nothing. It's just a nervous habit," he lied. "How far have we been able to get?"

"Maybe a three mile radius from town. Will that do?"

"For now. Get back to the inn. I think it'll be safer that way. We can't risk drawing attention to ourselves."

"Alright." Christophe spurred his horse back towards Beauvais. Enjolras glanced back toward the south. They were so close to Paris, but was Éponine even there? Would she be waiting for him? Doubtful. Éponine was not the kind of girl to sit idly. Hopefully, she'd found some way to escape and was making her way to Calais. He'd given Azelma instructions on what to do if Éponine did show up.

ÉPONINE:

"Eurgh!" She turned on her side to empty her stomach again. How could there still be so much vomit after doing it three times already? "Baise," she moaned.

"Éponine?"

"Don't come in! I'm sick!" Of course, Gabriel didn't listen and unlocked her door.

"Ugh! What is that smell?"

"What do you think? Everything that USED to be in my stomach!" She jabbed a finger at it, scowling. "I don't want to go outside today."

"You mean after all that trouble I went to, you're saying no?"

"Would you want to go outside if you'd just retched your guts out?" she retorted bitterly. "Do prisoners get to see a doctor, or am I supposed to just keep throwing up until it stops?" Gabriel groaned.

"You would have made a damned good politician. I'm beginning to see why what's-his-name likes you so much."

"His name is Enjolras, and he taught me just about everything I know about politics. He loved me long before I knew any of this stuff. Though I wasn't exactly stupid before we met. I just didn't know the kind of the things I know now."

"I'll take your word for it," Gabriel said coolly, sitting on the ottoman by the fireplace. "Now then, about your friends. I guess I can try to convince the Lieutenant to let them visit, depending on who they are."

Éponine wrinkled her nose, using Cosette and Marius's full titles. "Baron Marius Pontmercy and his wife Euphrasie, daughter of the late mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer." Gabriel's jaw dropped."What?"

"My respect for you continues to grow. Friends with a baron! What next? Cousins with the emperor?"

"If I were the emperor's cousin, would I be here?"

"True. Alright, alright, fine. I'll see what I can do. Baron Pontmercy. Got it." Gabriel's eyes wandered over to the pot again. "Should I get a new one?"

"YES," Éponine wailed, losing what was left of her innards onto his boots.

ENJOLRAS:

"Reports?"

"Henri's team has spread to Lille, and Pascal's made it as far as Rouen. At this rate, they should make it to Caen in a week, and the others to Charleville-Mezieres. And we've been doing well. I think it's safe to say the people are more sympathetic with us than with the government," Christophe said, reading off from the dispatches forwarded by Azelma.

"More than safe, but don't assume," Enjolras agreed. "We can't let our guard down now. Once we've reached Paris, I'll try to get in contact with Marius Pontmercy. He's a good friend, he may be able to help."

"Pontmercy? Not the Baron Pontmercy?" one of the men demanded. "The one rewarded for loyalty at Waterloo?"

"Marius is a good man, he fought with me at the barricades. I care for him as I would for a brother!" Enjolras retorted hotly. "And I trust him."

Christophe's face was solemn, almost unreadable. "I suppose it can do no harm if he's never been outright allied with the emperor. Are you certain, though?"

"Even if I doubted his loyalty to our cause, there's a more… personal reason he'd be on our side." Enjolras rubbed his forearm again. Why was it stinging more and more frequently? "Marius and Éponine… well, suffice to say, they have some history." There were more than a few snickers at his words. "That's enough! Think what you want of my friends, but at least be so kind as to do it when I am not in earshot!"

"Keep it down!" the girl from the bar yelled. "I don't give a damn what you're doing, but do it quietly!" Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Let's take this into my room. I can tell when it's better not to cross someone."

ÉPONINE:

She drove her fist into her pillow. Baths, food, even a walk with two guards supporting her… nothing was helping. She still felt sick, sore, and tired. "I WANT TO DIE!"

"Part of me wouldn't mind obliging you," Gabriel said kindly as he opened the door. "I'm guessing you don't feel any better."

"Are those boots new, or the ones from last time?" Gabriel automatically took a step back. "I figured."

"Ha ha," he said bitterly. "I hope you know the phrase 'don't shoot the messenger,' because I really did try."

"Marius and Cosette can't come?"

"55 Rue Plumet?"

"Oui, that's the address."

"Good." Without warning, Gabriel picked up her coat and cut off a piece from the corner.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked. "That's mine!" He didn't answer her. "Gabriel! Gabriel! Answer me!" He shut the door without replying. "Ugh! I hate men!"

"Including me, Patria?" she imagined Enjolras saying.

"Oh, well, you're special, 'Jolras."

"A likely story."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"And if I am?" He tweaked her nose.

"Oh, stop it! Just tell me, do you miss me as much as I miss you?" He cut her off with a kiss. "Alright, fine, you do."

"If you ever doubt it again, I may do something a little more drastic. Write me something else?"

"You may never see it."

"It's the thought that counts, Éponine."

"I hope I won't always have only thoughts."

"You won't. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise."

"This will be one you'll keep, right?" He gave her a rather cold look. "Oh, Enjolras, I want to trust you, really, I do! But we saw each other what? Two weeks ago? You said—"

"I know what I said! But did either of us count on Montparnasse getting involved?"

"No," she grumbled.

"Then keep hope!"

"It'd be easier if you'd hurry."

"Patience. Just wait a little longer."

"I hate waiting," she grumbled.

"Don't I know it," he said ruefully, vanishing into the depths of her mind. Éponine curled into a ball, hugging her pillow and sobbing softly. She wanted to go home. She wanted this all to be over. She missed Enjolras. She missed the chance to be out when she chose, she missed having control of her life. God help her, she almost missed Montparnasse. Yes, he was rude. Yes, he'd liked lying about their relationship to make her blush. Yes, he'd pinched her, and drunk more often than she'd liked, and made her life miserable. But he'd been a part of her life for a long time, a constant thorn in her side. She was still sobbing when the sun set and Gabriel returned.

"Get whatever you can't bear to lose," he said briskly. "And be quick and silent about it."

"What?"

"Quiet!" he ordered. "You only have a small window of time."

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, stuffing her greatest treasures into her reticule: The hairpins Marius had given her, the handkerchief Cosette had taught her to stitch on, one of the leather cuffs Enjolras had liked wearing. Gabriel wasn't making any sense, but there was something about his tone that made her obey him. If this turned out to be some kind of trick, she was going to give him hell later. "Gabriel, what—"

"Éponine, I said hush!" Gabriel hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Go to the window."

"Why?"

"Just go." He bent down to stoke the fire.

"Playing Rapunzel, 'Ponine?" a familiar voice called softly from beneath the window. "Your hair's going to have to grow quite a bit."

"Marius!" she gasped in delight.

"Shhhh!" a second voice pierced the night. Cosette! Éponine allowed a grin to split her face as Gabriel started carefully prying the bars off her window.

"Once I've got these down, I want you to knock over the candle by your bed, and start screaming," he said, setting down one of the bars.

"Won't that burn down the house?"

"Obviously."

"You can't be serious!" Petty theft was one thing, but arson?

"Do you want to get out or not?"

"I do, but—"

"No buts." Gabriel put down his crowbar. "Do it." Éponine allowed herself a moment to stick out her tongue at him before pushing the candle down. Her mattress went up in flames, which made it fairly easy to shriek.

"Aiiieeeeeeee!" As she did, Gabriel picked her up and gingerly tossed her out the window. Her screams grew louder as Marius caught her. Then she realized. "Gabriel! How will he get out?"

"He'll be fine," Cosette said, helping her to her feet. "We've planning this all day. It did take a little convincing. That piece of your coat..."

"But he was dressed as a guard!"

"Exactly why I didn't trust him," Marius muttered. "All the same, we figured he's a good insider to have. A spy."

"He AGREED to it?"

"I think he's sweet on you," Cosette whispered as they slipped onto the nearby street. Éponine saw that they were on the Rue Caillaux. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Where?"

"Back to the convent. You'll be safe there."

"Not to Calais?" Éponine asked sulkily.

"He's not there anymore," Marius panted, running up from behind them. "He got out alright, Alouette." Cosette blushed slightly, and Éponine guessed it was some kind of pet name. She preferred it when Enjolras called her Patria. Lark… honestly!

ENJOLRAS:

"He didn't wake up this morning?" The voices he could hear were hazy, but there were at least two people in his room.

"And his forehead's burning up. Feel it yourself if you don't believe me."

"Oh, no, I do believe you, Monsieur Christophe." A firm hand pulled out his left arm from under the blankets. "Do you know when he received this cut on his arm?"

"No. But he has been rubbing his arm lately. Does it have something to do with the cut?"

"I'm afraid it's gotten infected very badly. I have little doubt it will kill him if it's left to spread."

"Then it can't be cured?"

"The closest thing there is to a cure at this point is amputation."

"Amputation! But that would mean…" Christophe trailed off.

"It's his arm or his life." Enjolras, of course, should have been alarmed by everything that was passing between his friend and the other man, obviously a doctor. But, the truth was, he was too deep into a wordless, feverish dream.

Éponine….'Ponine…. Patria…. Her jaw set stubbornly when she was arguing, her eyes sparkling every time she saw him, the dimple that appeared only on her left cheek when she smiled… Éponine…. Éponine…. Éponine….

"How soon can you operate? We need him. There's so many hopes riding on him."

"Tomorrow. I need a little time to prepare. See to it that someone cleans that cut as best they can, and frequently. We can't allow it to get infected further."

"I understand, sir. We'll do what we can. We have to. He's our one chance."

"I know, monsieur. Why do you think I'm not charging you for this?"

A/N: Finally! An update! Yaaaay!