Chapter Fourteen

Brothers and Sisters

Éponine lay in her bed with her head on Combeferre's chest, drawing patterns on his stomach with her fingertips. She knew that he wasn't asleep, as one of his hands was stroking her hair.

"How do you feel now?" he murmured.

"Hmm?" She stopped drawing circles with her fingers and lay her palm flat over his stomach.

"About the fact that all of our friends know about…you know, us," Combeferre said, his chest vibrating beneath her as he spoke.

They hadn't discussed this since they had seen each other, after Éponine had left Grantaire and Combeferre had left Enjolras. There had been some discussion on their respective charges, and they had, as usual, fallen swiftly into bed (Éponine hadn't thought she could miss someone so much after not seeing them for only one night).

She considered his question and lifted her head up, placing her chin on his shoulder so she could look him in the eye.

"How do you feel?" she said.

He sighed. "That's not an answer."

"Neither was what you just said," Éponine countered. She tilted her chin downwards, digging it into his shoulder. "C'mon. You answer first."

He made a noise with his tongue. "That's not how it works," he muttered, before saying, "I don't mind. Courfeyrac will get over it, and the rest didn't seem to care."

"Well, then, I feel the same," she said, giving him a sleepy sort of smile. "I always thought you were uncomfortable with them knowing."

"See, I always thought that was you," he said. "I'm still surprised no one noticed."

"Grantaire worked it out." Éponine yawned and flexed her fingers on his stomach.

"So did Enjolras, actually." Combeferre pressed his mouth into Éponine's hair but he didn't kiss her. "So you're…fine with it? It's not changed anything?"

Éponine grinned at him. "I'm here, aren't I?"

OOO

The rest of the week dragged by, and then it was Saturday. The clock, which had been ticking so slowly for the previous days, had suddenly decided to speed up, and before Éponine knew it she was sat on the sofas in the Café Musain, waiting for five o'clock to roll around so she could head over to the pizza place and meet her brother.

She sat hunched forward in her seat, gnawing on her thumbnail. Around her, her friends chattered, voices loud and blurring into one another.

Combeferre put his hand on her knee. "'Ponine, it's going to be fine," he said quietly.

"What if he doesn't like me?" she said.

"Don't be silly," Cosette chipped in from her other side. She was flicking through a glossy magazine as she spoke, but then she rested it down on her lap and looked Éponine in the eye. "As I've said before, Gavroche did the brave thing and reached out to you. He's going to like you."

"Him reaching out means nothing," Éponine said, thinking back to her parents and how she had reached out to them.

"What I mean is, he's going to try and like you," Cosette rephrased, turning the page in the magazine. "You're going to have to do something really horrid to upset him, I think."

"I agree with Cosette," Combeferre said. She looked at him. His eyes were soft and warm. "And you're going to try so hard to impress him you're not going to slip up and insult him."

"You just need to make sure you're not trying too hard," Cosette commented, running her hand over a photograph of a woman in a red and white bathing suit. "Otherwise, you'll come across as stiff and it'll make things awkward. Do you think that style would suit me?" she finished, thrusting the magazine in Éponine's direction.

She accepted the magazine and glanced at the picture. "I suppose," she said, handing it back.

Cosette hummed. "I don't think it'd suit my hips. But anyway, my point is, you need to be relaxed."

Éponine chewed harder on her thumbnail. "I don't feel very relaxed."

"It's probably the caffeine in the coffee you just drank," Cosette said.

"I feel like I need a drink," Éponine said in response, immediately searching the café for Grantaire.

"No, no you don't," Combeferre sighed, taking her hand in his and linking their fingers together. Cosette watched the motion with eyes like a hawk, and a slow grin spread across her face.

"It would make me feel better," Éponine bit out, digging her nails into the back of his hand. Combeferre frowned at her, and squeezed her hand in return.

"I think a double chocolate chip muffin would make you feel even better than a drink would," Cosette said. "My treat."

Before Éponine could say anything, Cosette had stood up and walked over to the counter.

Combeferre used his grip on her hand to pull her in close to him. She leaned with her head on his shoulder. "Relax," he murmured into her hair. "You're overanalysing. It's not going to be that bad."

Éponine felt dangerously close to whining. "It could be," she murmured.

"Is this how it's going to go now?" Courfeyrac said loudly. "Are you two going to get all touchy-feely all the time? Please don't be worse than Pontmercy and Cosette."

Combeferre lifted his head up long enough to glare at Courfeyrac. All of their friends had gone quiet and were staring at them in a curious manner.

Éponine untangled her fingers from Combeferre's and inched away from him. "Would that be an issue?" she said, dragging her hand through her hair.

"Not at all," Jehan answered, kicking Courfeyrac in the shin. "Courf's just sore that you never told him, that's all."

Courfeyrac flung his hands in the air. "I've only known Combeferre for most of his life, that's all," he said.

"Get over yourself, Courfeyrac," Éponine said, rolling her eyes. "I'm really not in the mood, and you're acting like a child. We don't owe you any information about our relationship."

"Ah, so you admit you have a relationship?" Courfeyrac was suddenly beaming. Jehan kicked him again.

"Huh?" Éponine accepted the huge chocolate muffin that Cosette was handing her.

"Ignore him," Combeferre said, sharply. "Give it a rest, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac rolled to one side and pressed his face into Enjolras' shoulder. "Enjolras, Combeferre's being mean," he whined.

Enjolras, who was reading a book and largely ignoring what was going on around him, simply turned a page. "Is he?" he said, in a mild voice.

"Yes," Courfeyrac said, just as Combeferre said, "I'm not, Courf's just being a big kid."

"When isn't he being a big kid?" Bossuet muttered, rolling his eyes.

Courfeyrac lifted his head to shoot the bald man a look that could curdle milk.

"They have a point, Courfeyrac," Enjolras murmured.

Éponine swallowed her bite of muffin and glanced at the watch on her wrist. "I'd better be going," she said, more to Combeferre than anyone else, as they were now all watching Courfeyrac curl up next to Enjolras, burrowing into the blond man's side.

"Do you want me to walk with you?" Combeferre asked.

"No, I'll be fine," Éponine said. "See you later."

Glancing around to make sure that Courfeyrac was still occupied (he'd just lifted Enjolras' arm so it was wrapped around him, so she figured he was distracted well enough), she pressed a kiss to Combeferre's mouth.

"Good luck," he murmured against her lips.

"Good luck," Cosette echoed, and then Éponine slipped out of the café, muffin in hand.

Combeferre waited until Éponine had gone out of sight before picking up the discarded muffin case she had left on the sofa and screwing it into a ball. He threw it at Courfeyrac, grinning in triumph when it bounced off his forehead.

Courfeyrac's entire body jerked at the impact and he nearly kicked over the coffee table between the sofas in response. "Why would you do that?" he cried indignantly.

"Stop it," Combeferre said, raising is eyebrows.

"But –"

"No buts," Combeferre said, making sure to keep his voice stern. "No more pestering about why we didn't tell you."

Courfeyrac pouted, but then a slow smile stretched across his mouth. "Okay," he said.

"You said 'okay' to that way too easily," Bahorel said, his tone suspicious.

Enjolras withdrew his arm from where it lay across Courfeyrac's shoulders. "I agree with Bahorel," he said.

"No, it's just, I had a thought," Courfeyrac drawled, promptly grabbing hold of Enjolras' arm again and forcing it back around his shoulder. He snuggled into Enjolras' side with a contented sigh escaping his mouth. The blond man rolled his eyes. "But I'll bide my time," he added, with what was supposed to be a sinister chuckle.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, and looked for something else nearby that he could throw at his friend.

OOO

Éponine brushed the crumbs from her hands and opened the door to the pizza restaurant. There was a waiting area at the front where she had agreed to meet Juliette and Gavroche; there was a huge notice board covered in advertisements for various offers and deals the restaurant was running, as well as photographs of notable staff members and pizzas. There was a podium as well, behind which a rather bored woman stood chewing gum and examining her nails.

Éponine's eyes then fell on a woman and boy stood to one side. The woman stood with her arms folded, looking somewhat impatient, whilst the boy lolled against the wall with his head tilted towards the ceiling. The woman was slightly overweight, with a face that had probably been beautiful, but her beauty had been dulled by age and frown lines. Her hair was a dark reddish brown, curling to just below her jaw. Her clothes were practical – a simple jersey top and dark trousers, but her nails were clearly manicured and the earrings she wore looked expensive.

The boy was in the awkward stage between boy and man, tall, but his frame long, thin and awkward. He had a thin face, from what she could see, and when he looked towards the door as she came in she saw he had a clever glint to his eyes. He wore skinny jeans, and a red plaid shirt over a band T-shirt. His hair was dark blonde, spiked up with just a little gel, and there were many wristbands and plaited leather bracelets around his skinny wrists.

He was also the boy that stole her purse, she realised. He looked a bit more groomed in his own clothes and not his school uniform, but it was definitely him. If she hadn't been sure, the slightly panicked expression he wore on his face upon sight of her told her everything she needed to know.

"Excuse me?" Éponine said, as the woman with him hadn't looked around. "I'm Éponine."

The woman smiled brightly. "Éponine, hi," she said. "We thought you weren't coming for a bit there."

"Sorry, I got caught up with something," she apologised.

"Never mind," the woman said, unfolding her arms. "I'm Juliette, as I'm sure you guessed."

"I had," Éponine said. She glanced at the boy – no, not the boy, her brother. Gavroche.

There were so many things on Gavroche's face when she focused on him and she could see that the main thing was please don't say anything.

"Hello," she said to him.

"Hello," he said, voice a little gruff and uncertain. He pushed off the wall.

Juliette clapped her hands together. "Well, I'm going to leave you two to it," she said. "I'll be back here in a couple of hours, if that's okay?"

"That's fine," Éponine nodded.

"Have fun," Juliette said, giving Éponine a smile and forcing a kiss onto the protesting Gavroche's forehead. She left them, leaving the scent of flowery perfume behind.

"Shall we get a table?" Éponine suggested, gesturing towards the podium. The woman behind it pushed her gum to one side of her cheek with her tongue, and reached into the podium, retrieving two menus.

"Table for two, is it?" she said, in a voice completely devoid of enthusiasm.

"Yes, please," Éponine confirmed, and the woman led the two of them through the maze of tables and chairs to a table in the far corner. As there had been the time she came here with Cosette, there were some crayons in a pot, and a pair of colouring books sat next to it. She considered grabbing one as they sat down, but then decided she'd probably best concentrate on talking to her long lost brother.

"Here are your menus, someone will be over in a few minutes to take your orders for drinks," the woman drawled, placing their menus on the table and then sloping off.

They had ordered their drinks (an orange juice for Éponine, a coke for Gavroche) and were reading through the menus when she decided to speak.

"So," she said, "Pick pocketing. A habit of yours?"

Gavroche made an irritated noise at the back of his throat. "Please don't tell my mum," he said, leaning across the table towards her.

"Calm down," she said, rolling her eyes. "I have no intention of telling your mother. I just want to know why you do it."

"Why does anyone do anything?" Gavroche muttered, closing the menu and flopping back in his seat.

"I just…I don't like it," Éponine said. "Knowing that my little brother picks pockets for fun. It makes me feel uncomfortable."

"I didn't want to meet up with you for the lecture," Gavroche shot back. "I wanted to meet up with you for answers."

"I'm kind of giving you one," Éponine said. "Pick pocketing isn't particularly big or clever, and it kind of makes you more of a Thenardier than a Moreau."

"How do you know I don't want to be more like a Thenardier?" Gavroche challenged.

"No one in their right mind wants to be like a Thenardier," she said, still not looking him in the face. "Trust me. Once you call yourself Thenardier, things go downhill. We're a family of crooks and thieves and child abusers. Be pleased you don't carry the name."

This really wasn't how she'd intended her first meeting with Gavroche to be. He was more sullen than she'd expected (probably her fault), and she'd been expecting a Courfeyrac-type person rather than an Azelma.

It was a shame, she supposed, that Azelma had gone AWOL since leaving care; she'd probably have got on with Gavroche.

She finally looked up at him. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean for that to come out like that. You – your mother said you don't really know about our family."

"They won't tell me," he muttered. "So that's what they are, then? Child abusers?"

"Our father," she corrected. "Not the whole bunch, I'm probably doing the Thenardiers a disservice, but the ones I know of tend to be petty criminals. They're nothing to look up to."

He went very quiet. The waitress brought over their drinks, took their order for pizza, and then relieved them of their menus.

She watched Gavroche as he picked at the edge of the table, scraping at the wood with his nail.

"What about you?" he said, finally.

"Me?" Éponine took a sip of her orange juice. "I'm…" She groped in her mind for the right word. "I'm reformed," she decided.

"You run a shop," Gavroche said. "That's how we found you."

"I wouldn't call it a shop," Éponine disputed. "I make jewellery out of clay and try and sell it. I work in a supermarket. Much less glamorous."

"So you don't – you don't see any of our family?" Gavroche continued.

"No." Éponine said that as firmly and clearly as she could. "And I won't put you in touch with any of them, either. As I said, they're not good people. They're not healthy to be around."

"And you are?"

"I never said that," Éponine said. "But I'm a hell of a lot better, and I have your best interests at heart. Give them a wide berth, Gavroche. If any of them ever come knocking, turn them away. And stop pick pocketing."

Gavroche wrinkled his nose. "It's just a bit of fun. Extra money."

"I don't think you need the extra money," she said, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forwards. "Your clothes don't look cheap, they look pretty expensive, and I'd bet my last penny you're not working and your parents support you."

He scowled. "My friends…"

"Are no sort of friends if they encourage you to steal people's purses," Éponine said, exasperated.

"It's just fun," Gavroche muttered, placing his hands on the table and flexing his fingers.

"It wasn't very fun when you thought I was going to call the police," she reminded gently. "Or when you thought I was going to tell your mother. I mean it, Gavroche, pack it in. I can tell you'd done it before, you nearly fooled me."

"If I promise I'll stop, will you drop it?" he asked.

"I won't mention it again," she promised. "Unless, of course, you pickpocket me again."

"Which I obviously wouldn't do," he said. "You're my sister."

She ran her finger around the rim of her glass, thinking simultaneously how nice it was for him to refer to her as his sister and how wrong he was to think that blood ties meant a thing in life.

"So," she said, changing the subject as she had promised, "How is school?"

She could tell by the expression on his face that she'd asked possibly the most boring question she could have thought of.

"School is school," he said.

"Yeah, I know that feeling," she said. "I hated it but now I wish I'd put more effort in."

"Did you go to university?" he said.

"Nope," she said. "I didn't go into further education at all, I just left school and…" She trailed off, wondering whether to be honest or embellish the truth a little. She chose the latter option. "Got a job," she finished, a bit lamely.

"My father wants me to study medicine," Gavroche said.

"A lot of my friends are medicine students," Éponine nodded. "What do you want to do, though?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Gavroche said. "Something…different. Like, I don't think I want to go into medicine."

Éponine thought he was awfully young to be making those sort of decisions, but she decided not to say that. Instead, she asked, "What things are you interested in?"

"I like music," he said.

"What type of music?" she pressed.

"Rock music, like, punk and stuff," he said.

"Do you like music enough to, I don't know, learn how to play an instrument?" she suggested.

"I already play guitar," he said. "But I can't find anyone to start a band with me."

"So you want to be in a band?" Éponine smiled at the thought.

"It had crossed my mind, yeah," he replied. He didn't seem to be able to stop the smile that went across his own face. "But like I said, none of my friends are
really interested. My friend Arnaud plays the piano but he's into completely different music to me."

"I'm sure you'll find someone in time," Éponine said, reassuringly. "If you still want to be in a band in a few years, you know? You might completely change your mind when you get older and want to, I don't know, become an activist."

"An activist for what?" he questioned.

"It's not really relevant to my point," she responded. "But, eh, the government, or something? I don't know. Activist for whatever you want to be an activist for. The point I was trying to make was anything can change in a few years. If you'd spoken to me a few years ago I never thought I'd be working in a supermarket and a bunch of rich students for friends, but here I am."

"Why, what did you think you'd be doing?" Gavroche asked curiously.

"I don't know," she replied, chewing on the inside of her mouth. "It's hard to say, really. Just, not this. Not that this is anything bad, it's just not what I expected."

"I never thought I'd ever meet you," Gavroche said suddenly. "Like, I always wanted to meet my family. I love my parents but they're not – they're not blood relations and I don't always see myself in them. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "But I think you'd see even less of yourself in your biological parents," she said.

"I see myself in you," he said. "I know I've only known you five minutes, but…"

They were interrupted by the arrival of their pizza. They both sat back so that the waitress could place the pizzas down.

"Enjoy your meal," the woman said with a smile, before leaving.

"You remind me of Azelma," Éponine said. "Our sister."

He looked up from his pizza. "Really?" he said.

"Really. Well, you remind me of her from when I last saw her."

"When was that?" He cocked his head to one side.

"Years ago," Éponine said, rubbing her neck with one hand as she picked up a slice of pizza with the other. "When I saw her properly, I mean. I've seen her about since but never for very long and we don't talk to each other."

He looked a little crestfallen. "So I wouldn't be able to meet her?"

"Not right now," she said, biting into the slice. She chewed and swallowed. "We don't get on. We don't see eye to eye, that's all it is, and she's kind of involved with our parents at the moment and I can't support that. But if she and I ever reconcile, I promise I will introduce you to her."

Gavroche nodded.

"So," Éponine said, picking a piece of pepperoni off her slice of pizza. "You want to be in a band. But have you ever thought of being solo, or something…?"