A/N: I'm back! Sorry about the wait, and the horrible cliffhanger I left you with. When I said early June I didn't really take into account how long it would take me to actually write the chapter once I got back. The reason this took so long is because this chapter was originally part of a longer chapter, but I decided to split them up. The good news is this means I have most of the next chapter written, so it should be up within the next few days. Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites. It's nice to know that people are still reading my story even when it takes me forever to update.

Chapter 26

Éponine sighed as she made a cappuccino, her hands working on autopilot while her mind raced. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Maybe it was Enjolras' cold goodbye when he kissed her cheek earlier, his eyes not meeting hers as he mentioned "work" he had to finish before quickly turning away. She knew that something was going on, that he wasn't being particularly truthful, but she had let it go. She knew he just needed some time, and she gave it to him. Now she was wondering if she had made the wrong choice. She reassured herself that Combeferre had followed him out, and he would stop Enjolras from doing anything stupid. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that when he really wanted something, nothing and no one could stop the fearless revolutionary from going after it, even his logical best friend.

So when she heard the police cars and the ambulances rushing by, she didn't feel a mild curiosity about what had occurred, she felt dread. She had the same tingling in the back of her neck that she used to get before her father would come home in the early hours of the morning with his gang, blood on his hands and clothes. She didn't allow herself to truly panic until she overheard two customers talking about the riot that had taken place just a few blocks away. Her stomach dropped as she heard that many people were injured, even more arrested.

It suddenly all made sense– his coldness, his lame excuse about "work" he had to complete, his inability to look her in the eyes as he lied. She knew, with complete certainty, that Enjolras' evasiveness occurring on the same day as this riot was not a coincidence. A million emotions rushed at her all at once. For a moment the predominant one was anger, but this was quickly overcome by worry. She would make sure he was okay first, and not in need of bail, and then she would be free to explode at him. Her emotions must have shown on her face, because Musichetta didn't even question it when Éponine hurried away from the counter in the middle of making a macchiato. She walked until she stood in front of the Amis.

"Have you heard about this riot Éponine?" Courfeyrac asked with a smile when he saw her. "For once it's not us causing all the trouble."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked harshly.

Courfeyrac's perplexed expression and the matching confusion on the faces of the Amis convinced her that her boyfriend had not been truthful with them either.

"What do you mean?" Grantaire cut in uncertainly.

"You don't think Enjolras had anything to do with this?" Feuilly asked, catching on to what she was implying.

"When has he ever chosen work over an Amis meeting? And when has he ever left his work to the last minute, especially without freaking out about it for a week beforehand?" Éponine asked. She could hear her voice trembling slightly.

"But Combeferre went with him right? He wouldn't have let him go to that riot," Jean Prouvaire said reassuringly.

Éponine tried to find a way to describe the feeling she had in her gut when her pocket began to vibrate. She fished out her phone with fumbling fingers and saw an unknown number flash across the screen. She pushed the button and put the phone up to her ear warily.

"Hello?"

"Éponine? It's Combeferre," a slightly shaky voice responded.

Éponine felt her stomach twist into a knot. The Amis looked worried at the look on her face.

"I don't really know how to explain this," Combeferre continued. "But earlier when Enjolras and I left..."

"You went to the riot?" Éponine interrupted him, her voice strained in a combination of anger and anxiety.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "Yes," Combeferre replied, his voice a mixture of surprise and trepidation.

"And where are you now?" she asked, fairly sure the answer was either jail or the hospital. She wasn't sure which one she would prefer.

"We're at the hospital," Combeferre said quietly.

Éponine sucked in a breath. She decided she would have rather the answer was jail.

"Is he alright?" she said softly.

"I'm... I'm not really sure," Combeferre said hoarsely. "Most of his injuries aren't very serious, but he hit his head and he hasn't woken up yet. I don't think we'll really know anything else until he does."

Éponine could feel the panic well up inside of her, like a balloon about to burst. She couldn't stop the images from flashing through her mind, Enjolras bleeding on the ground, Enjolras hooked up to a ventilator– pale and unresponsive, her sitting in their apartment alone– his side of the bed empty and cold beside her. Part of her wanted to curl into a ball and sob. But she knew she wasn't that person, or rather she had never had the privilege of being that person. There was always someone relying on her, someone she couldn't let down. It used to be her siblings, and now it was this baby, and apparently Enjolras. So she reeled in her panic and her conflicting feelings of anger and worry and forced herself into crisis mode.

She pulled her concentration away from her thoughts and realized that in her silence Combeferre had started nervously babbling. "...and I'm so sorry. I dropped my phone somewhere at the protest so I couldn't call you till I got to the hospital and luckily there was a payphone but it ate my money and then I had to ask a stranger for change and..."

"Combeferre," Éponine cut in. "What hospital are you at?"

"Saint-Louis Memorial," he replied quickly.

"We'll be there soon," Éponine said quickly, hanging up the phone without another word.

When she looked up the Amis were staring at her, their expressions varying between worry, confusion and anger.

Courfeyrac, who was closest to her, seemed to have heard the entire conversation. "I'll drive," he offered.

By the time they had reached the hospital, most of the Amis were worried about Éponine and her reaction to what had happened, or rather her lack of reaction. At some point in her conversation with Combeferre her face had morphed into a blank, emotionless expression and stayed that way the entire way to the hospital. She had only broken her endless stare out of the window to explain to them the events of the last few weeks, how Enjolras had gotten more and more involved in his cause and she had asked him to stop.

"Éponine, are you okay?" Jean Prouvaire asked softly as they walked down the hallway towards where the nurse had said Enjolras was being treated. Éponine turned and looked at him a raised eyebrow as if to say, are you actually asking me that right now? It wasn't much, but it was a reaction, and her friends were pleased that she was showing a little bit of personality.

"Éponine!"

They all jumped a little at the voice as Combeferre bounded into their line of vision. He looked a little worse for wear, with various scratches on his face and arms. He was limping slightly and squinting at them as he approached, seemingly having lost his glasses at the riot. Éponine felt a pang of guilt in her chest when she realized she hadn't bothered to ask him if he was alright. She felt her heart unclench a little at the unprecedented smile on his face.

"Enjolras woke up," he said happily.

Éponine felt like she could finally breath again. "Is he alright?" she asked urgently.

"I was only able to talk to him for a minute before the doctor kicked me out, but he seemed like himself. And fairly lucid too, all things considered," Combeferre reassured her. "I think they took him to get a head CT but he should be back soon and then we can probably see him."

The Amis were all smiling and letting out sighs of relief. Éponine let herself smile for a moment, just happy that Enjolras was going to be okay. But now that all of her energy was no longer focused on worrying about Enjolras' wellbeing, the real meaning of the actions that led him to the hospital started to sink in. Enjolras had broken a promise to her, and worse he had lied– straight to her face. She felt her smile slip. She was grateful when a deep voice asked the question she had been wondering the entire ride to the hospital, giving her a brief reprieve from the hurt she felt at Enjolras' actions.

"So what the hell happened?" Bahorel asked in a harsh tone. The Amis all turned to Combeferre expectantly, wondering the same thing.

Combeferre took a deep breath. "Well, as you already know, Enjolras and I went to the protest."

"And why exactly did you let that happen?" Grantaire asked, his voice deadly serious for once.

Combeferre grimaced a little, obviously wondering the same thing himself. "I know I should have stopped him, I wish I did. But he's been kind of lost the last few weeks and he really wanted to go to this protest. He said he wanted to feel like he was being useful, and I thought if we just went for a few minutes and then left he would be satisfied. I didn't realize who had organized the protest until we were already there, and by then it was too late. I'm so sorry, this was all my fault," Combeferre said solemnly.

"No it's not," Éponine said sternly. The Amis all turned to her. "You couldn't have stopped Enjolras if you tried. He can be almost as stubborn as me sometimes."

The Amis all nodded in agreement but Combeferre still looked guilty.

"Wait, so who organized the protest?" Marius asked.

"It was that new group, I believe they call themselves the Young Anarchists or something like that?" Combeferre said softly. He was watching Éponine as if gauging her reaction. Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline.

"You mean the group Enjolras mentioned recently? The one he knew was dangerous and radical?" she practically growled.

The Amis shifted uncomfortably; unsure of whether to be mad at their friend for being so careless or pity him for what Éponine was going to do when she got her hands on him.

"So, what happened at the protest?" Bossuet asked quickly, trying to break the tension.

"It turned out the group was protesting the police force in general, not just police corruption. I don't think Enjolras was aware of that by the way," Combeferre added in an undertone for Éponine's benefit. "We decided to leave, but then the police showed up. The crowd started to pull in two directions, half of them were rushing at the police and the other were running away from them. Enjolras and I got separated, and then the police threw tear gas. When I could finally see again it was a few minutes later and the crowd had thinned. I pushed through and found Enjolras on the ground. He must have tripped or something, I didn't see. But he was unconscious and his head was bleeding pretty badly. When the police came to us I told them we were just walking by and got caught in the crosshairs. The paramedics came soon after that. We got pretty lucky, because I saw Officer Javert snooping around. He's arrested Enjolras before and he probably would have thought he caused the riot."

"So basically he was trampled," Éponine interjected, almost matter-of-factly.

Combeferre winced. "I guess... but only a little bit," he replied.

"He was a little bit trampled," Éponine said disbelievingly.

"Yes?" Combeferre answered weakly. "The doctor said he has a few bruised ribs and he broke his wrist, but it could have been a lot worse I think."

Éponine nodded, satisfied for now. "Did you get checked out?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine," he insisted, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Combeferre, we already have one Amis in the hospital for being too stubborn to listen to reason, we don't need two," Joly interjected reasonably, sounding remarkably like the man he was trying to convince.

"I'll have them look me over once the doctor tells us Enjolras is in the clear," he said stubbornly. Nobody felt like arguing with him. When it came to the welfare of his friends, Combeferre could be just as stubborn as Enjolras.

With their immediate questions answered there was nothing to do but wait, and a silence fell over the group of friends, all lost in their own thoughts. Éponine wondered what she would say once she saw Enjolras. Would she yell? Would she cry? Would she just be happy he was okay? She didn't really know how to react in this situation. The only thing she knew was that he had hurt her.

She turned the day's events over and over in her mind, trying to rationalize Enjolras' actions. She couldn't stop thinking about one little detail of Combeferre's story. That Enjolras had not been aware of what the protest had truly been about. Combeferre had said it to make her feel better, but it had the opposite effect. She had told Enjolras that she couldn't lose him. And yet he went to this dangerous protest completely, recklessly, unprepared. Could he really care about her, love her, like he claimed to if he had such blatant disregard for her feelings? If he just threw around his life like it was nothing? Even after she had made it very clear that their lives were intertwined, that his actions directly affected her? His betrayal felt like a slap in the face, and she wasn't sure when it would stop stinging.

For the first time in a while she felt weak. What had she been thinking, making her own happiness so dependent on another person? She thought back to the way she used to be. She had been a Thenardier. Nobody broke her heart, because no one could touch it to begin with. It had been a lonely way to live, but it had never hurt as much as this did. She recalled her words from a few weeks ago, when she told Enjolras she trusted him with her heart, that he wouldn't break it. Right now it felt like he had let it slip through his fingers without a second thought. Her father had once told her that the one thing you can count on is that people will always let you down. Maybe her father was a little wiser than she gave him credit for.

By the time the doctor came she could already feel herself slipping back into old habits. Retreating into her shell where the outside world couldn't touch her. She felt a distant sense of happiness when she was told Enjolras would be alright, that his concussion was mild and she could see him now. But then the numbness returned, so familiar it was almost comforting. She barely felt anything at all.

And it was so much easier this way.