April 29, 1832

Enjolras opened the door of the flat to the scent of almond oil and Éponine shrieking, "ERIK, PUT THOSE BACK!"

"What's going on?" he asked, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on the desk. "And what smells so good?"

"I'M IN THE KITCHEN, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME IN HERE IF YOU WANT TO— NO! NO, BAD, ERIK, VERY BAD!" Éponine screamed. Erik laughed, running out of the kitchen, his fists clutching a collection of crushed macarons. Enjolras bent down and caught the toddler by his waist, picking him up and carrying him back inside. Éponine stood in the center of the room, her dress, hands and face covered with flour and a very tart expression on her face. "Thank you for catching him."

"You're welcome." Enjolras plucked one of the macarons out of Erik's hand and examined it. "How long have you been making these?"

"I don't know, two hours at least." She wiped her hands on a towel and opened her hands to accept the rest of the macarons and put them back on the platter where a few non-damaged pastries were sitting. "I burned a few batches. They were supposed to be a surprise."

"A surprise for what?"

Éponine looked at him in disbelief. "Bastien, it's your birthday today. You're twenty-six. You told me today was your birthday weeks ago." He stared at her, chewing his lip. "Are you going to say anything? Did you not want to—"

"Éponine, you're very sweet to have done this, but I'm afraid things are about to change." Éponine's face immediately hardened at his words.

"Is it Lamarque?" she asked, setting the towel down.

"We found out today he's worse. Much worse. It's a matter of waiting now."

"I've heard things," she murmured, coming over to take Erik from him. "When I go shopping. There's so much anger, and it keeps getting worse."

"Which makes it the best time to strike."

"Are you sure this is the best idea? I feel like we could be safer here—"

"Javert came here once, Éponine, we can't risk it. We have to move the two of you tonight."

"After macarons," she insisted. He stared at her skeptically. "I spent hours making these, and we are going to celebrate your birthday, whether you like it or not." He let his face split into a grin.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. You want to give me back Erik and go clean yourself up?"

"No, I think I'll stay like this." She grabbed the platter and held it up in front of him, grinning. "Happy birthday!" Erik whistled and clapped his hands as Enjolras kissed his wife, grabbed one of the macarons and stuffed it in her mouth.

"Me too! Me too!" Erik squealed, opening his mouth and pointing at it gleefully. Enjolras grabbed another pastry and dangled it in front of him, trying to make the little boy open his mouth even wider before taking a bite out of it himself. "Nooooooo!" Erik started pummeling him with his fists.

"Bastien!" Éponine scolded. "How could you!"

"It's my birthday, isn't it?"

"Oh, you are terrible." She shook her head and gave Erik one of the pastries that he'd turned into a cast of his fist. "He's… I don't even know how old he is… a year, maybe. But he's still a baby."

"Am not!" protested Erik, spewing crumbs out of his mouth. Éponine and Enjolras both chuckled at the mess he made. "I'm not a baby!"

"Hmmm." Enjolras pushed back his hair with his free hand, then set Erik on the floor. "Well, go get your exploring clothes. You and your mother are going on an adventure."

"To the cold house?"

"It won't be cold," promised Éponine. "It's almost May now, it'll be fine."

"I don't want to go," Erik declared. "I like it here."

"Erik, it's only for a little while," Enjolras promised, bending down to eye level with the little boy. "You two will come back. I just need to finish a few jobs, and I want to make sure that you aren't in any danger. Do you understand?" Erik nodded. "Go get ready." The little boy toddled to the chest where they'd been keeping the 'adventure clothes,' leaving Enjolras and Éponine alone.

"You'll be safe, right?" She reached up to touch his cheek. He caught it and held it against his face. Despite the flour coating them, he could still feel the warmth of her pulse.

"I can't make promises, Éponine. We're on the cusp of a war."

"I know, but…" she sighed. "Just try to be careful. I might be able to cope, but I'm not sure about Erik. He's so young, Bastien. I'm—"

"I know," he interrupted. "But it's the only plan we've got. You'd better go change, too."

She nodded. "Then let go of my hand." They both laughed as he relaxed his grip and she slipped her hand out of his. She left the room, and Enjolras sank into one of the chairs, poking at the remaining macarons idly. He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, but Éponine's voice jolted him out of it. "We're ready."

"Right…" he pushed himself up and went to join them. Éponine looked exactly as she had the day they'd met under the bridge, but for being a little better fed. Erik was clinging to her shoulders, covered in smeared ashes and dirt, and even his mask hadn't been spared. "I hate seeing you like that," Enjolras muttered, forcing himself not to wipe the dirt off of Éponine's cheek.

"It's not exactly pleasant for me either," she replied. "So, are we going, or aren't we?"

"We are. Come on." They slipped out the door and into the streets. Enjolras leaned against his door as Éponine and Erik slipped into the mass of people, the only indication of their presence Erik's waving hand, and even that soon disappeared.

Éponine set Erik down on the mattress, sighing heavily. He'd fallen asleep halfway through their journey, and she envied him. There was a ridiculous amount of rustling and bumping going on in the room above them, and it was driving her insane despite having heard it for only minutes. She hurried up the stairs and stuck her head in the flat above hers. "Do you—" she stopped short when she saw who it was.

"Oh… 'Ponine. I didn't know you lived here." Marius Pontmercy looked up from a rather battered trunk. "I… uh, I decided to stop living with Courfeyrac. It's a little too noisy there."

"Uh… uh…" Her tongue wasn't working. She could feel her knees knocking under her tattered skirt.

"Anyway, what are you doing here?" Marius asked, stuffing a shiny black box into a small niche in the wall. "Didn't you have that governess job?"

"Um… I left it." Éponine said lamely. It was the only thing she could think of that was at all intelligent.

"So, you live here now?"

"D-downstairs."

"Oh. That's nice. Well, I still have to unpack, but I'll see you around, won't I?" She nodded. "Good night, then."

"G-good night, Monsieur Marius." She backed out of the doorway and downstairs, relieved to find Erik still asleep on the mattress. She sank down beside him, a numbness spreading in her chest. Just when she'd thought it had finally gone away… just when that niggling in her that Enjolras wasn't Marius had finally left her, something like this happened. "It's not fair," she said bitterly. "It's just not fair."

April 30, 1832

Éponine slipped outside, smelling the wet stones of the streets with a small measure of contentment. She liked the smell, fresh and new. Maybe, just maybe, she'd make this work somehow. "Éponine!" Her good mood was instantly soured by the sound of her father's hoarse bleating voice. She swallowed back the rising bile in her throat and turned to see one of her family's many patches, currently occupied by the entirety of the Patron Minette. Alain Thénardier leaned against an abandoned empty crate, smoking lazily on an old stolen pipe.

"Hello, Daddy," she said, using the childish nickname sarcastically.

"Well, look who's come crawling back. Big fancy job with a rich boy not good enough for you?" Thénardier asked.

"I got bored of it." Éponine shrugged noncommittally. "I did manage to get quite a bit out of him first, though."

"Then where is it?"

"I've hidden it. We need a stash, right?"

Montparnasse snorted piggishly. "I bet you don't have any, and that little girl got bored of you, not the other way around."

"Doesn't make you good enough for me," Éponine countered.

"Both of you, enough!" ordered Thénardier. "As long as you're back, my girl, you're going to make yourself useful to this group again, you hear me?" Éponine waved her acknowledgement lazily. "Then get over here, girl!" Nicole shushed her husband as Éponine took her place beside her mother.

"What happened?" Nicole asked. Éponine shrugged. "Éponine—"

"It's done, mother. I'm back. For better or worse. Just leave it at that. And I'll be staying at my own patch."

"What about that—"

"It's been taken care of. I don't want to talk about it," repeated Éponine. She leaned back, willing it to be nighttime so she could see Enjolras.

It was almost discomforting how quickly she slipped back into the life of the Patron Minette, picking pockets, keeping an eye out for the police, and brushing off Montparnasse's attempts at flirting, but it made the time pass well enough, and she was able to sneak back to the flat every hour or so to check on Erik. The little boy seemed to be taking to the dusty little garret after all, finding niches in the walls and empty spaces in the floor, and getting himself covered in plenty of dust.

Her father let her go at sunset, heading off to God only knew which tavern with everyone else, and she dashed up the stairs to find Enjolras waiting in the door.

"You're late," he announced. "I don't know if I should let you in."

"This is my flat!" She slipped under his arm and stuck out her tongue. "Ha!" Enjolras chuckled, then sobered.

"Do you know who's living upstairs?"

"Oh, I had the pleasure last night." He snorted at her word choice and she blushed. "You know what I meant!"

"I'm still going to give you hell for that. Where's Erik?"

"You mean he's not… oh, for God's sake." She hurried over to the far corner of the room and pulled open the secret panel.

"Boo!" Erik jumped out at them, his mask off. Éponine fell backwards into Enjolras, squeaking in surprise. "Got you!"

"You certainly did." Enjolras laughed, helping Éponine to her feet. "You'll be the death of us one day, Erik, I swear. And I brought something for the two of you." He picked up a bundled package Éponine hadn't seen sitting on the mattress. "It's the rest of the macarons. And a few other things. Erik's pencils and paper. That fairytale book you like. Candles and matches." Éponine hugged him tightly.

"Thank you…"

"Don't get too comfortable, I'm still bringing you two home as soon as I can." He warned . "By the way, Combeferre told me he and Claire have set the date for their wedding."

"Oh, that's great!" Éponine grinned. "When is it?"

"The fifteenth of June."

"A new government would make quite a wedding present," she teased. He nodded solemnly. "You do realize Marius living here presents a bit of a problem, right? We can't keep the secret if he sees you here every day, and I don't think you have the temperament to claim you actually want his company that much."

"You have a point." He sank onto the mattress and gestured for her to join him. "What do you suggest?"

"A week between visits, maybe?" she offered. "I think that's reasonable. Erik?"

"Mmmph!" Erik nodded, stuffing three macarons in his mouth at once.

"Then it's settled. Would you like me to stay longer, or should I go back to my own flat?"

"Go home." She brushed a damp clump of his hair off his forehead. "You look like you need sleep. And so do we."

"Goodnight then." He kissed her forehead, stood, gave Erik one last hug, and slipped out the door. Éponine settled back against the wall, and grabbed the matches, striking one to light a candle and started reading The Sleeping Beauty aloud as Erik curled up at her feet.

June 1, 1832

"Where are they? Where are our so-called leaders?" Enjolras demanded, looking down at the group of people who had responded to his flyers and gathered at General Lamarque's house. Marius was standing by his side, and Courfeyrac waited by the door, speaking to one of the General's physicians. His features twisted in displeasure as he listened, and he hurried over to whisper in Enjolras's ear as Marius took over speaking.

"They're saying he won't last the week," Courfeyrac murmured. "What… what do we do?" Enjolras grimaced for a moment, then repeated the words.

Marius worked off him easily, something about Judgement Day, and every member of Les Amis took up the cries of "Vive le France!" and "Vive General Lamarque!" As he and Marius dropped into the crowd, he spotted someone staring at them. A slender, filthy girl with dark eyes and hair, bruises on her face and arms. Enjolras felt his blood run cold with guilt as he realized he'd forgotten. He hadn't visited Éponine or Erik for weeks, and the look Éponine was giving him only confirmed it. Her face softened as she looked from him to Marius, and the chill in his veins only became more intense.

Éponine vanished into the crowd, Marius soon doing the same, and Enjolras pulled himself back to the task at hand. "Come on then!" he yelled, pulling Courfeyrac and Combeferre along towards the Musain. "We have work to do."