Quick A/N: From this point on, it's pretty much AU from actual French history. So sue me. I'm allowed to do that, it's fan fiction.
ÉPONINE:
"God bless you, Madame." Éponine smiled down at the wounded old gentleman.
"God bless you, sir, for being willing to fight," she answered kindly.
"Oh, Jehan, stop tugging at my skirt, and give me a moment," Cosette said sharply. The little orphan boy she and Marius had adopted and named Jean in honor of Valjean, and nicknamed Jehan for Prouvaire. Jehan let go, and started sucking on his fist. Éponine smiled indulgently and Cosette scowled. "Let's hope yours isn't half so…"
"Adorable?"
"I was going to say irritating." Both young women laughed, as did the injured rebels.
"You're a pair of angels," one boy blurted, then turned bright red. Cosette smiled sweetly as she mopped the boy's brow. Éponine hummed idly, collecting the dirty bandages as she went. Suddenly, she gasped. "What's wrong, Madame Bataille?"
"'Sette… I think…." Cosette understood immediately.
"Isabelle! Mirette! Get her downstairs, keep her comfortable! Claire, keep an eye on Jehan! Go! Go!"
Éponine's world was getting fuzzy, the pain was intense, worse than anything she'd ever endured before. "Enjolras…" she wailed, "why aren't you here?"
ENJOLRAS:
"Get down!" he yelled, just as a cannon embedded itself in the side of the new barricades. "This is the final stand! There are always casualties in war, but make sure it is not you!"
"Enjolras!" Christophe called. "We've breached the east wall! They want you there!"
"I'm on my way!" he shouted back, running along the side. The hazy red of sunset mixed with the fire of guns made the scene seem something out of a child's nightmare.
"Enjolras! Enjolras!" A girl's scream caught his attention.
"Cosette? What the hell are you doing here? Marius will kill me if you get hurt!"
"But… it's Éponine! She's gone into labor!" Damn! Of all the times for this to happen!
"I can't leave here. And you can't stay."
"Enjolras…"
"We knew what we were getting into. Éponine will be fine. But you need to go, Cosette, and I need to get in through the east wall! Go!"
BOTH:
Haze of fury… pain…. And exhilaration…. The minutes passed in a blur, hours in daze…. And then… new life… a single word on both their lips: Patria.
ÉPONINE:
She blinked awake slowly and rasped out, "Enjolras?" Ugh, but her throat was dry.
"I'm here." His lips brushed against her forehead. "You were so brave, mon cœur. I'm so proud of you. Here." He held a cup of water up to her lips. "Drink, you sound parched." She took a big swallow, then spoke.
"You're not arrested."
"No, I'm not…" he paused. "I'm President."
"Huh?"
"Another notion I adopted from the Americans. I'll only be holding office until proper elections can be made. It may be a few months before you, Patria and I can escape to Calais."
"How did you know?" Éponine demanded. The idea of naming the baby Patria had been a joke between her and Cosette.
"You gasped it out just as I got here… you do know you were in labor for a full three days, don't you?"
"That long?" She rubbed her head. "Where is she? It is a girl, isn't it?"
"Yes, Patria is a girl. Would you really be so cruel as to name a son Patria?" he teased. She hit him on the shoulder angrily. "Do you want to see her, or not?"
"Yes, I do," she sighed in defeat. "So, Monsieur le Président, where is our daughter?"
"Screaming for you," Cosette interrupted, coming in with a tightly wrapped tricolor in her arms. Marius stood beside her, Jehan clinging tightly to his leg, and all three were wearing identical grins of pure joy. A meaty little fist shot out of the bundle, and the baby's cries became much easier to hear.
"I like her," Jehan said quietly, making everyone stare. That was the longest sentence Jehan had ever strung together.
"Yes, well, we're letting her be alone with her own parents, Jehan." Marius picked up his adopted son. "Come on, Alouette."
"I really think that was a stupid nickname," Éponine murmured, once they were alone, cradling Patria to her chest. "She looks like you."
"She has your eyes, though. And your nose, thank God."
"I like your nose."
"Well, I don't," he retorted, grimacing as she reached up to tweak it. "Especially when you do that."
"You do too like it!" Patria started crying again, which made both of them stop talking. "Um…. What do I do?"
"I'll turn away." Éponine blushed as she understood his meaning. "I…. I should probably go anyway, there are a lot of things that require my… er…"
"No, stay!" she blurted, shifting Patria to one arm so she could grab his wrist. "We… we've been apart for far too long, Enjolras. And I don't want to lose another moment."
"We never will," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again. "May I live a thousand years, no one will ever tear you from my side again, Éponine Bataille."
ENJOLRAS: EPILOGUE: June 5, 1843
"Maman! Over here!"
"Gavroche Bataille, you slow down right now!" Éponine yelled, running after her son. "You're in a cemetery, show some respect. Patria, I thought I told you to watch your brother."
"She can't concentrate on anything other than Jehan," Enjolras laughed, pointing in the direction of Patria, whose dark hair was tumbling down her back and currently ensnaring Jehan's hands in its tangles. She really had inherited the better traits of both her parents.
"Childhood sweethearts has just been defined," Cosette said, bouncing two-year-old Fantine on her hip. "They're adorable together."
"She's just ten years old!" Enjolras' tone became icy. Patria growing up was a sensitive subject to him. "And however fond I may be of Jehan, I am not giving up my little Patria so easily."
"You sound like a father, my friend," Marius joked.
"I am a father, idiot."
"Hush," Éponine interrupted. "We're here." The marble monument of the Barricades gleamed in the sunlight.
"I'm gonna do Jehan!" Jehan yelled smugly.
"No, I am!"
"Children, there's enough for all of you!" Cosette laughed tenderly, unwrapping the bundle in her arms. Gavroche quickly snatched up the little cap that had belonged to his uncle.
"Hey, are we late?" Azelma asked, coming up from behind.
"Uncle Gabriel! Aunt Azelma! You made it!" Patria cried in delight, finally separating from Jehan to give her aunt a hug.
"So we did." Gabriel grinned. "Enjolras, Éponine. It's been a while."
"Two weeks, you mean," Enjolras retorted, snatching the bottle of absinthe out of Azelma's hands. "That's for Grantaire. And now, please remind me why the two of you have chosen to live in sin for ten years."
"It's fun."
"It's refreshing."
"It's a miracle she's never gotten pregnant."
"Leave them alone, 'Jolras, we're here for a reason." Éponine said. "Children, put those down, and let us finish the formal part." A mix of 'yes, Mother,' and 'yes, Éponine,' came in the form of grumbles. "Thank you. Go on, 'Jolras."
"We stand here today in a world that is better than anything we ever could have dreamed of. We only wish you could see it. Denis Grantaire, Gavroche Thénardier, Richard Combeferre, Etienne Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, Armand Feuilly, Gaston Bahorel, Daniel Lesgles, Maurice Joly… we thank you for everything." He closed his eyes, and nodded, the signal for Éponine to place the three candles in front of the monument. "The flame and vitality of your souls will burn on forever, helping keeping the Republic alive. For all these years, we thank you."
"Vive les amis," Éponine said quietly.
"Vive les amis," the others echoed.
"Now, children, give them their remembrances."
Absinthe for Grantaire… A book of poetry for Combeferre… A fan for Feuilly… A mirror for Courfeyrac… Gavroche's old cap…. One of Prouvaire's favorite novels….
"Goodbye…"
XxXxX
"You did a good job today."
"So did you."
"I can't believe it's been ten years. It seems only yesterday I was trying to get you to say my name properly."
"What are you talking about, Angel-grass?" Éponine asked, pulling off her dress with a wide grin.
"Get over here, you little menace!" He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.
"I love you," she gasped out as his lips began covering every inch of her face.
"We have a very long time together, Éponine. What do you say we return to that night?"
"Which one?"
"Patria's night."
"Hmm…. No, I think I prefer Gavroche's. That one wasn't followed by separation, kidnapping, revolutions or amputation…. But I have a better idea."
"Oh?"
"Let's just make a new memory instead," she whispered, pulling him close.
"That does seem like a better idea."
"You start."
"Just so long as you never forget to complete me."
"Never." And she never did, nor did he. Not until the day she died, and he did, too, within mere minutes of the woman he loved.
Drink with me to days gone by... Sing with me the songs we knew...
At the shrine of true love, raise your glass high. Let the wine of true love never run dry... If I die, I die with you!
FINIS
A/N: I did it... I DID IT! YAAAAAAAAY!