A/N: I feel like this needs no introduction. I give you the final chapter of Ma Fleur Rebelle.

The Sun Arises

Eponine awoke feeling as though she had just walked through fire, but as soon as the pain registered in her mind, it was gone. She reached up a hand to rub her bleary eyes and soon she was able to recognize her surroundings.

She was in the back room of the café, but not as she had known it in her life. The walls were now a gleaming mahogany, and the floor was swept and clean. Eponine felt an ache in her chest begin to grow as she began to piece together what had happened. She had known from the moment she had locked eyes with Enjolras that there was no hope. The pain had radiated through her chest, and she could feel the blood dripping down her body in a slow, languid motion. Her only regret was that she had not lived to see his dreams of a new and better France become a reality. She knew that this place, this version of the Musain, was what must come after death.

She sat up quickly as the door creaked open and a beautiful, well-dressed woman stepped into the dark room. She looked at Eponine for a long, hard moment before suddenly dropping to the floor next to her. The woman drew her legs up underneath her and brushed her long chestnut hair out of her eyes with her hand.

"Bonjour Eponine," she said softly, as if speaking to a young, frightened child.

Eponine hurriedly reached a hand up to try to tame her surely unruly hair, but was surprised to find it silky smooth. "Madame," she replied in a whisper, nodding her head in respect.

A delighted giggle bubbled up from between the woman's lips. "Oh, my dear child! There is no need for such formalities! Surely, you remember who I am?"

Eponine stared at the woman, and in a rush of sound and colour, her missing memories came back to her. She could very vaguely remember the woman leaving her young daughter at the inn, but she could remember her name being tossed around over the years as her parents figured out how to extort more money out of her. "You are Fantine? Cosette's maman?" At Fantine's nod, Eponine flushed. She may not have been able to perfectly recall Fantine, but the memories of Cosette and the way she had mistreated her would be forever burned into her memory.

"Excusez-moi, madame," Eponine murmured as she rose to her feet and moved towards the door. She stilled when she felt Fantine's hand on her arm, but she did not turn.

"What is it, dear?"

"I do not belong here," Eponine said quietly, her hand resting on the gleaming brass knob of the door.

"Why not?" Eponine felt tears well up in her eyes as Fantine gently grasped her shoulders and turned her around. "Eponine, why do you believe that you do not belong here?" Eponine shook her head, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. "Is it because of the way you treated my daughter?" A violent sob escaped her gasping mouth. Fantine wrapped her arms around Eponine and cradled her against her body, as a mother would cradle her weeping daughter. "Eponine, you are not at fault for what happened in the past. Children are reflections of their parentages. Your parents made you into the child you were, but you have gone above and beyond in proving yourself in adulthood."

Fantine held her for a moment longer, then held her at arm's length. Fantine brought her hands up to cup Eponine's face, and used her thumbs to rub the tears out of her eyes and off of her cheeks. "No more crying," she smiled. Eponine nodded, using the cotton of her dress to wipe the remaining tears off her face. "Now, come!"

Fantine pulled her out of the café and out onto the street. Eponine gasped. It was not only the café that had received a dramatic makeover. The streets of Paris were shining like silver, the sky was a beautiful blue, and the stores were standing tall and proud. But it was the people that surprised Eponine the most. Oh, the people! Gamines that Eponine recognized raced past her, faces clear and shining. An old homeless man who had lost his leg in 1792 walked past her, wearing a clean military uniform with glistening medals on display on his chest. General Lamarque himself strode past, carrying a toddler on his back and an infant in his arms. It was beautiful, it was perfect, it was…

"Patria," Eponine whispered in reverence. This, this, was what Enjolras had been preaching about. Her surroundings were clean, and bright, and exuded a feeling of acceptance. She finally understood. Patria was something worth dying for, if only because dying was the only way to reach it.

"Yes, Eponine. Patria. This is France as it is supposed to be, not as it is in the lives we have left behind. There is no suffering, no tears, no terror. Only love and respect and truth." Fantine smiled at her. "Now, go! Go and reap the benefits of your reward! I am sure we will meet again soon." Fantine turned and melted into a crowd of people walking by.

Eponine strolled through the sparkling streets of Paris. She passed by the baker with his tray, who pressed a rich white loaf of bread, studded with nuts and chunks of fruit, into her arms, laughing as he waved away her attempt to pay him.

"Eponine? Eponine!" She turned and was met with a face full of black hair as the caller wrapped their arms around her.

"Hélène?" Eponine looked down and met her friend's shining blue eyes. "Hélène!" Eponine wrapped her up in a hug of equal fervor. "What are you doing here?"

"The rally…there was a stampede of people…your sister…the hospital…there was nothing they could do…" Hélène shook as her emotions began to take over her senses. "François? What happened to him, Eponine? Will he be able to find us here? What is happening with the revolution?"

Eponine twined their arms together to give her friend additional support as they walked through the streets, attempting to find a place to sit. Meanwhile, Eponine filled Hélène in on as many details as she could. She told her about the initial wave of attacks on the barricade, and how Combeferre had seemed alright, albeit a bit distracted, when she had seen him before she died.

"…I only hope that Gabriel is not too upset about the fact that I died in the arms of his best friend, rather than in his own arms. Of course, it would be an odd thing for him to be upset about, but it would be of the type that he would take issue with. He's very traditional like that and…Hélène are you even listening to me?" Eponine asked, turning her head to look at her friend, who had been suspiciously silent for the past few moments. Hélène's mouth gaped open, and a shaky hand rose in the air and extended a single finger to point towards the horizon. "Hélène, what are you…Mon Dieu…"

A large shadow loomed in the near distance. Both women picked up their skirts and raced towards it, astounded at what they saw. A barricade that shamed the structure at the Musain into non-existence stood before them, stretching towards the sky and as far out on either side as either of them could see.

They both walked towards it reverently, Hélène reaching out a hand as if to touch it, but stopping just before she could. Eponine, on the other hand, stopped when she heard a different voice calling her name.

She turned and saw her brother, her innocent baby brother, racing towards her. He launched himself at her from a few feet away. Eponine felt a pit of fear settle itself in her stomach as she watched Gavroche fall towards the ground. There was no way for Eponine to get to him quickly enough, and yet her feet glided towards him of their own accord and her arms, stronger than they ever had been in life, scooped him up before he could connect with the floor. She cuddled him into her arms, breathing in the clean scent of his golden hair. Miraculously, he did not struggle. Instead he burrowed his head into her shoulder and latched his arms around her shoulders.

"Oh Gav, what are you doing here?" she whispered into his curls. She knew that her brother must be dead to be in this place, but she could not bring herself to be sad about it. The mere sight of her brother's face—clean, bright-eyed, shiny—was enough to allay her concerns about his death. What mattered was that he was there, that he was safe from prosecution and danger. Yes, he was dead, but he was still so alive.

"I was down the other side the barricade, fetchin' some extra powder for the boys, but 'fore I could 'op back over, them bloody soldiers shot me down! Next thing I knows, I woke up in this fancy place and some lady tol' me you was already 'ere!" Gavroche pulled his head back from her shoulder to smile at her, and his eyes caught sight of the massive barricade before him. "Cor! Wouldja lookit that!" He scrambled out of her grasp and leapt up the blockade. "If we 'ad 'ad this back in Paris, we woulda won for sure!" He smiled down at her with a smile on his face that rivalled that of the sun. "Hey, it's Feuilly! Feuilly!" Gavroche hopped down from the carriage he was standing on in the middle of the giant pile of wood and ran towards the ginger haired man who patted his head absentmindedly as he passed.

Feuilly walked as if in a trance towards the barricade. He reached into it and pulled a sapphire blue sash out of the wreckage. He held it close to his eyes and smiled.

"The colors…they're so bright…" Feuilly smiled as he wandered off, his artist's eyes taking in the varying hues and brightness' of the colours.

Eponine strode up to Gavroche and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. "Where is he going?" Eponine was concerned for Feuilly's wellbeing. She had never had much interaction with the man before, but she felt that his behaviour was strange.

"Probably off to paint something," Gavroche scoffed as he pulled away from her and began ascending the barricade again. "Did you know that he used to paint fans for a living?" Gavroche found a fairly level stretch of wood about fifty feet up and he began to walk across it. "Bonjour Hélène," he called happily, spotting the woman below him looking up in wonder.

The woman looked up, startled, but smiled at the sight of Gavroche. She had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she had not noticed him arrive, but she was glad that he was safe from harm. She opened her mouth to respond, but was promptly cut off by the arrival of a certain curly-headed, raven-haired gentleman.

"Gavroche!" Courfeyrac screamed, bolting past Eponine and bounding up the barricade as if it were no more than a small bump in the road.

"Courf!" Gavroche threw himself into Courfeyrac's arms while he was still a few feet below him. Courfeyrac caught him and swung him around in a circle, Gavroche's laughter ringing across the spacious area.

"Gavroche," Courfeyrac lifted him up to eye level with a suddenly serious look on his face. "I never want you to put yourself in that kind of danger ever again, am I clear?"

Gavroche looked down and nodded sheepishly. "I jus' wanted to 'elp," he murmured.

Courfeyrac pulled him into a hug, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. "You did help, Gavroche. You were a hero." Gavroche smiled and wrapped his thin but able arms around his friend. Courfeyrac lifted him up to sit on his shoulders and the two proceeded to continue to explore the barricade. Courfeyrac looked down and waved at Eponine, who was watching them with a smile on her face. She knew that Courfeyrac had done what he could to protect her brother when he was alive, and that he would continue to do so now that they were dead.

She watched them for a while as they climbed higher and higher until it seemed like they would be able to touch the sky if they wished to. Soon she turned back towards Paris. No revolutionary had appeared since Courfeyrac, and she could not help but wonder if she, Gavroche, Hélène, Feuilly and Courfeyrac were the only ones to sacrifice their lives for the cause. A stab of panic shot through her. If Les Amis had succeeded in spite of the casualties, how long would it be until she saw Enjolras again? Part of her wished that he would come strolling towards her now, a smile of victory on his face. He would say that they had succeeded in their attempts to make France a better place, but that he had been the last to die for that dream to become a reality. Another part of her wished that she would not see him again for many years, until those golden curls that she loved so had greyed and his beautiful eyes were surrounded by crow's-feet. He would come to her in old age, claiming that he had lived a full life in her name and that they could be together then. So consumed was she by her conundrum that she was blind to the arrival of another revolutionary.

"Did my heart love till now? Foreswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." Jehan's soft voice shook her out of her stupor. His eyes traced the skyline, wide-eyed and child-like. "What is this place?"

"I believe it is a version of Heaven," Eponine responded, turning to hug the poet whom she had come to trust during her illness. "Our reward for our sacrifices."

Jehan sighed and brushed a tear out of his eye. "It is beautiful."

Eponine grinned at him, knowing that he was one of the few who would be able to fully appreciate the beauty of the place. "Is it what you believed it would be?"

He turned towards her with a beautiful smile on his face. His face was glowing with love and health and happiness. "Better."

Bahorel seemingly appeared out of nowhere next to Jehan, and gently clasped him on the shoulder. "Well damn," he muttered disdainfully, a small smile gracing his lips and taking the fire out of his words. "Where the hell am I gonna find a fight in this place?"

Jehan laughed joyously and pulled the larger man into a hug. Bahorel pulled one of his arms free and wrapped it around Eponine, pulling her into the love-filled fray. Eponine felt a dull thud against her back as Gavroche wrapped his arms around her waist, and she looked up to see Courfeyrac wrapping his arms around Jehan and Bahorel. Eponine turned her head to call Hélène over, only to see her bolt past them towards the single street that led to the barricade.

A man with floppy auburn hair had just come into view when Hélène threw herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. The group hug broke apart to rush to her side.

Hélène resisted all of their attempts to lift her up, contenting herself with wrapping her arms around her husband and kissing every inch of his face. Combeferre buried his head into her shoulder. Their words were spoken only to each other, but their actions spoke much louder. Grief, love, fear, and happiness radiated around them. It took many minutes for Les Amis to encourage them to get off the floor, and when they did their revels continued and expanded to include their friends.

In the cacophony, Eponine felt a gentle but firm hand grasp her wrist and lead her away from the group back towards Paris. Eponine looked up at her guide, half expecting it to be Fantine, only to find that it was a blond woman whom she had never seen in the flesh before. She had only seen her once, captured in an image over ten years old.

"Madame Enjolras?" Eponine whispered in a near-reverent way.

The woman stopped and turned to face her. She looked almost the same as she had in her family portrait, excepting a few calculated changes. The severe look on her face in the portrait was a gentle smile in reality; her golden hair as flowing down around her shoulders instead of being trapped in a tight bun. Madame Enjolras smiled and placed her hands on Eponine's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you, Eponine," she whispered into her ear.

"Madame," Eponine squirmed uncomfortably. She did not know how to react to her lover's dead mother hugging her, as she was not used to physical displays of affection. "May I ask what you are thanking me for?"

Madame Enjolras pulled away and smiled brightly. "You saved my son, my dear girl." With that, she resumed her march into Paris, tugging Eponine along after her.

"Madame, I believe you are mistaken!" Eponine cried as they weaved their way through the thickening crowd of deceased Parisian citizens. It seemed as though they had heard that those brave, few revolutionaries had begun appearing in Patria and that they wanted to greet and thank them. Madame Enjolras slowed her pace as the crowd began applauding. "I did not save your son, Madame. He is still in danger! The gendarmes will kill him if his revolution fails! He will…he will…" Eponine trailed off as she saw who the crowd was cheering for. Joly and Bossuet were walking meekly through the throng, the latter waving slightly. Both were beet red and confused as to what was going on. Eponine took a step towards them in the hopes of explaining their situation, but was quickly pulled back and led through the congregation of citizens.

"I am not speaking of you saving him from his death. My beautiful boy was always marked for a tragic death. I knew since his birth that he was meant for more than what our past world could give him. But that does not mean that you did not save him. You saved him from a life of loneliness. You saved him from a life without love. Without you, he would not be coming here today." Madame Enjolras brought her to the façade of the Café Musain and stopped just outside the entrance.

"What do you mean, Madame?" Eponine was confused. This was Patria. This was the place that Gabriel dreamed of at night, the place that he longed for. If anyone belonged there, it was her Gabriel.

"Eponine, it is only through the love of another person that one can see the face of God," Madame Enjolras responded, gently cupping Eponine's cheek in her hand. "You allowed my son to see that love gives us strength, and so brought him to this, his eternal resting place. And now," Madame Enjolras stated, a regal tone in her voice. "Now he needs us to show him the way."

Madame Enjolras pulled her into the café and tugged the door closed. Eponine saw French soldiers milling about the café as though they were ghosts. They were storming through the lower level, overturning chairs and tables as they went. One of them pulled open the door to the back room, and Eponine saw her own body lying on the ground there.

It was a strange moment for her. She had felt so disconnected from her body when her memory was missing, but this was taking her discomfort to new heights. And yet, she could not bring herself to be sad. She looked the same, only healthier. Nothing had changed in that respect. But it was still her body lying on the ground. The body that she and Gabriel had consummated their relationship with, the body that he had worshipped with his hands and mouth, was no more.

"Do not mourn the loss of your life, Eponine," Madame Enjolras whispered, peering into the room over her shoulder. Her eyes welled up with happy tears as she took in the love and care that her Gabriel had taken in enshrining his love. Her body looked like a fairy tale figure of old; a young maiden awaiting her true love's kiss in order to awaken her. Her smart, precocious boy had finally seen the worth of love, and it showed. The Eponine that stood before her now was the Eponine that her son had seen all along. "This is your true form," she added, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The changes that you see in your brother and your friends exist in you as well, only you have not discovered them yet. Patria has rewarded you for your loyalty, as she is about to reward my beloved son."

Madame Enjolras slid her hand down to grasp Eponine's wrist again, and pulled her up the stairs, passing through the soldiers as if they were the spirits and the two of them were the corporal ones.

They stepped onto the landing and Eponine gasped at the carnage. She saw the bodies of Courfeyrac, Bossuet, Joly, Combeferre, and Gavroche strewn across the floor. Knowing that they were alive (albeit in a very strange sense of the word) lessened her grief, but the shock of seeing her friends and family lying on the cold, hard ground without even a whisper of life within them was heartbreaking to say the least.

Eponine heard the groan of wood under stress and looked up. Gabriel had half-collapsed against the wall of the café, tears streaming down his face. Eponine began to move towards him, but was blindsided by Madame Enjolras, who gracefully glided across the floor, bypassing the uninhabited bodies of her friends. A ray of light shot through the open window as the sun succeeded in its struggle against the clouds, setting the room ablaze in a sparkling light.

Gabriel looked towards the light and smiled a grim smile. Eponine stepped closer to the mother-son pairing as Madame Enjolras cupped her son's cheek in her hand.

"My brave little soldier," she murmured. Eponine could have sworn that she saw Gabriel turn his head into his mother's hand, but figured it must have been a trick of the dappled sunshine.

Eponine smiled sadly at him as she heard the thundering footsteps of the firing squad ascending the stairs. She slid over to his side and took his hand in hers. She felt a slight pressure and warmth as their hands connected. Gabriel bent down to pick up the discarded flag of the revolution and wrapped it around his slightly bleeding hand. Madame Enjolras arranged herself to be standing next to her son on the opposite side.

"At least it's a lovely day," Eponine heard him sigh as the firing squad began to get into formation.

"What do we do?" Eponine peered around her beloved to look at his mother.

"There is nothing we can do, my dear," she replied, looking at her son with tears of pride in her eyes.

"So we just let him die?" Eponine could not believe what she was hearing. She had sworn to protect Gabriel, had even given her life to save his, and it ended up being all for naught. She loved him so, and could not imagine any reality where she would be permitting him to die.

"I said this before, Eponine. This is the path that my son has been marked for his whole life. All we can do now is shield him as best we can from the pain. It will not be much, but it is all that is left for us to do."

Eponine nodded as Grantaire wandered into the room. He slowly crossed the room and positioned himself next to Enjolras.

Eponine noted how Madame Enjolras stood directly in front of both men, and she knew that it must be time. Without hesitation, she turned to face Gabriel and wrapped him in her arms, shielding as much of his body as she could.

The already dulled sounds of reality were muted as the soldiers fired their rifles at the two living men. Eponine felt the odd sensation of the bullets tearing through her skin, yet having no effect. There was no pain, no blood seeping from her back, only a slight tickle where the bullets should have pierced.

Eponine felt Enjolras lurch in her arms and she squeezed him that much tighter. She opened her eyes and saw his body falling through the window. And yet—impossibly—he remained limply in her arms.

Eponine lowered him to the floor and rested his head in her lap as she looked around in confusion. His body was dangling through the open window as his pant-leg caught on the wooden frame of the window, and yet he was lying there in her lap, as solid as he always had been. As she watched, Grantaire sat up and shook his head in confusion. He slowly stood and left his body behind. Madame Enjolras quickly and quietly wrapped her arm around his shoulders and maneuvered him out the door, whispering to him as they went.

Eponine looked down at her love as she gently smoothed his curls back from his forehead. She bent slightly to press her lips softly to his hairline. "Come back to me," she whispered, her lips hovering over his skin. Eponine watched his chest slowly begin to rise and fall with steady breaths before his eyes opened to reveal the breathtaking blue that she had come to know and love.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she took him in, for this was not the Gabriel Enjolras she had fallen in love with. The stress lines around his eyes and on his forehead had been smoothed over. His blue eyes seemed almost liquid as they swirled with emotion and confusion. As he sat up, it became evident that the seemingly-permanent hunched position of his shoulders had melted away. In short, he was now the man that she had always known resided within him. This was her champion, her Romeo, as he was meant to be. Her Earth-bound Apollo had been restored to all of his glory.

Eponine sat back on her heels as Enjolras slowly sat up and took in his surroundings. When his eyes alit upon her face, he quickly moved onto his knees. "Eponine," he breathed. She sat up on her knees as he shifted towards her and wrapped his arms around her torso. "Oh Eponine," she heard him whisper as he buried his head into her neck.

"Welcome home, Gabriel," she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Welcome home."

Time passed differently in Patria. That first day seemed to drag on into eternity as the Friends of the ABC reunited with each other, and with their dearly departed. Gabriel and his mother had a tearful reunion before rejoining his merry band of friends at the barricade. Grantaire was already there, a young girl hanging onto his neck as he twirled her around and around. All of his friends greeted him with apologies for their failures and reassurances that his requests for forgiveness were unnecessary. Gavroche greeted them both with smiles and hugs and a brand new medal gleaming upon his chest. They both marveled at its sudden appearance, and wondered who it could have come from. Their revels continued until nightfall, when Eponine and Enjolras returned to their now new and improved home and partook in their own private celebration in honour of their newfound lives.

It would take many years for Les Amis to be reunited, a task which Eponine became a vital part of. Under the tutelage of Fantine, Eponine became an emissary between the worlds. She helped the souls of those who Patria deemed worthy cross over into their better lives. The first time she assisted was when Cosette's father passed, and she could have sworn that Marius looked right at her when she took Jean Valjean's hand and led him into the light.

The second time was particularly heartbreaking. Seven months after her own death, Eponine helped Musichetta leave the world of the living. Both women cried as Musichetta bid farewell to her newborn son, who was resting in Azelma's arms. Azelma resolved to care for the orphaned child, and raised him to be a strong and compassionate man, who fought for the rights of those less fortunate than himself, as his parents had before him. And though he would not meet them until his death, his family grew and expanded for many years to come. His mother and father(s)—for Musichetta did not know which of her two lovers had sired her son—watched him from above with his many brothers and sisters.

He was only 16 years old when he joined his Oncle Marius and Tante Cosette on the barricade for freedom. He waved his flag and raised his voice against their oppressors, and cheered when King Louis Philippe was finally overthrown. And that night, he remembered his parents, and the rest of Les Amis de L'ABC, who fought for freedom and justice, and died for their efforts. He remembered the stories that Azelma and Marius had told him about a brave young man who did not participate in his own life until a young woman saved him from himself. They told him how their love blossomed despite all the odds being stacked against them. He learned of their sacrifice, of all of their sacrifices, and knew that they would not be forgotten.

Will you join in our crusade?

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Somewhere beyond the barricade

Is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing?

Say, do you hear the distant drums?

It is the future that they bring

When tomorrow comes…

A/N: So, I'm writing this final Author's Note with tears streaming down my face. This is the first work of fiction that I've ever finished, and I couldn't be prouder of it. It grew into something beautiful, and I'm so happy that I get to share it with all of you. I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for your constant support, your reviews, and your kind words. I only hope that this epilogue gives you closure and a little bit of happiness. That being said, I cannot thank anyone more than Sasha Snape. She was constantly kicking my butt and getting me to update. It's been a long, hard road, which was easier to travel with such a wonderful companion by my side. So, for the final time, I ask you to review. Tell me what you thought. Share your experience of reading this little work of fanfiction.

Dream, try, do good

-Fanpire101