hello, readers! Thanks so much for reading this fic for the whlie I've been writing it. This will be the final chapter, but I'll be writing a sequel called "There Is a Life About To Start when Tomorrow Comes" about what happens after the end of this story. If you want to see what happens, look out for that fic. Thanks, hope you enjoyed :)

It had been three months since Éponine and Montparnasse's lives had been greatly improved by that beautiful new presence. The novelty of the baby had not worn off, as Éponine admittedly had worried for the first few months of her pregnancy. In fact, they both felt as if they loved him more and more every single day. Every single day, he did something new; he made a new sound, a new expression, and it was just as beautiful as the day before. Every time the couple would share a moment with their little angel, they would between them exchange a familiar smile. It was a wonderful smile, a one-of-a-kind smile.

Éponine had spent her down time doing as she usually did, which was think. She was used to thinking in a negative way, pacing around and mulling over small unfortunate details of her life, and large ones as well. This was probably due to how her parents didn't care for her or Azelma really after she was ten or eleven. She always had to be the one who worried and who cared, and now she was condemned to being a worrier forever.

But this was a different kind of thinking, a better kind. She thought out everything she would do in regards to her son. What color shirt would he wear on his first day of kindergarten in a few years? What would be the name of his first boyfriend or girlfriend? Thinking about these trivial little details made her feel all warm inside, her distressed demeanor a little more calm. She had earlier worried that being a mother would weigh her down, but it did the complete opposite.

"Mont?" Éponine murmured one day as she sat holding Alex as she watched Montparnasse assemble the playpen they had just bought. He was looking at his building project perplexedly, then turning to Éponine with an exasperated sigh.

"Yes?"

"I don't know why, but I think..I think I miss 'Zelma." She admitted, taking a deep breath.

She had been thinking about her sister quite often lately. She had looked so miserable when they had seen her with her mother months before. She had been stick thin, she'd had big, dark bags under her once-beautiful eyes that were green just like Éponine's. She'd had her second thoughts about supporting her sister sometimes, like how it seemed in some way to her that she derived some sort of pleasure from the life they lead, the crime, the deceit.

"Well, that's natural I guess," Mont shrugged, clambering over to her, putting down his tools.

"What if they're not in town anymore? I haven't seen any of them at all. And I guess that's a good thing, for the most part. But poor 'Zelma."

"Well, you can forget about Azelma if you get the chance to forget about your mother and father too." Mont breathed, not facing her. He was infatuated still with his child.

"But that's not fair to her." Éponine sighed, cradling the baby with a frown.

"You're happy now, 'Ponine. Let it be."

This was not a perfect relationship. Two stubborn, tough, kids from the street couldn't always agree. This lead to loud shouting matches which some people complained about from time, which sometimes lead to cries from the baby. These cries immediately stop the shouting and result in Éponine running away to comfort the baby.

"Fuck, Montparnasse! You're drunk, aren't you?" Éponine shouted, clenching her fists, her eyes furious.

"Jesus Christ, 'Ponine.." Mont slurred, putting his hand on her shoulder sloppily. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder quickly.

"Why'd you do that?" She fumed, taking a step back from him, as he reeked of whiskey and cigarettes. She was mostly furious because she hadn't allowed herself those vices anymore, and it wasn't fair that he got to resort to them. She didn't understand what he could possibly be so depressed about. Everything was perfect, but she could still understand in a way why he felt the need to smoke and drink. The feeling of perfection faded just as the bond between the family grew stronger. Perhaps it was the fact that they were so dependent on someone so young and somewhat insignificant to fuel their happiness.

"'Ponine, baby, I'm s'sorry.." Mont slurred again, wrapping his arms around her neck and placing his lips on her cheek sloppily. She spit in his face, something she hadn't done for almost two years it seemed, not since they weren't more than friends.

"No you're not!" She shouted, turning away from him with a scowl. She put her hand up behind her as to signal the conversation was finished. She didn't want to see him anymore that night.

"Don't you love me?" Mont whined, stumbling over to her.

"Not right now," she groaned, shoving him away from her. She pointed angrily to the outside of the open bedroom door.

"Go sleep on the couch, asshole. You smell like shit." She grimaced. Mont groaned, but obliged, stumbling out the door slowly.

Éponine shut the door behind him and slumped down against the door, her head in her hands. Her long, dark tresses which had been held in a messy ponytail all day, fell out of place and flowed around her. She rubbed her tired eyes, sighing exhaustedly. Nothing would ever be perfect for them, would it? They could love their boy unconditionally, but they would still be themselves and have their baggage. They couldn't give their little gift everything. Maybe they wouldn't be anywhere near as shitty as her parents, but they wouldn't be those perfect parents on TV. She would never be a soccer mom driving an SUV, or a mom coming home in the evening after a long day of work in a beautiful suit, hugging her little guy. Montparnasse wouldn't be that all-around great family guy. She could try to redeem this with her love for Alexandre, but she couldn't keep on doing that. She had to acknowledge there was, indeed, something wrong.

"Éponine.." Mont sighed, poking his head in the bedroom door. He had a pounding headache and a vague memory of fighting with Éponine the night before.

"What do you want, Dad?" She spat, still pretty damn bitter about the night before.

"Dad?" He furrowed his brows.

"Yeah, Dad. I specifically remember my wonderful father doing very similar things..showing up in the middle of the night, wasted. I wouldn't be surprised if you fucking called him a slut and started beating him, either." She spat bitterly, trying to keep hot, angry, tears from flowing down her face.

"Éponine, please," he begged, stepping in her path but not too harshly.

"Don't touch me," she replied coldly. He feels his voice shake, the point of her cold looks very clear to him. He couldn't believe he had done this to her, he could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't fucking happening. She wasn't going to leave him was she? She wasn't going to take Alex with her, would she? He couldn't. He couldn't even imagine that kind of shit, his world crashing around him.

"Éponine, I'm so sorry," he moaned, his voice shaking, not even trying to stop the inevitable tears.

"Mont," she said evenly, not turning to face him. "It wasn't fair."

"What's not fair, 'Ponine?"

"You don't care. You don't have to care! Do you know how many times I've felt like shit lately? I wouldn't even fucking admit it to myself that I felt like shit, I just wanted everything to be perfect. It never will be. It never will. How is it fair for you to get to go get drunk? I want to! I can't! I give a shit about our son." She shouted, enraged and pulling her clothes out of the drawers wildly.

"Éponine, I care," Mont followed closely behind her, voice shaking so uncontrollably it was barely audible, "I'm sorry I broke, baby. It only happened once. You can have your days, I'll be here."

"Fuck you," Éponine spat, though his argument was valid. She wouldn't let him win this shit, "Fuck this. Leave me alone."

Mont nodded and ran into the nursery where Alex was awake, whimpering slightly. He was absolutely terrified that Éponine would take him with her if he couldn't convince her otherwise about leaving.

"I love you," he whispered, rocking the baby gently, "I'm your daddy, I love you."

"Put my son down," Éponine demanded coldly, evenly, from the doorway.

"Our son," Mont tried to correct weakly.

"Not when I leave your sorry ass he won't be." Éponine argued.

"Éponine, don't you think you're taking this a bit out of proportion?" Mont protested, hugging Alex closer to him.

"No, I'm not. I don't trust you anymore, Montparnasse." Éponine scowled, hot tears running down her face as she crossed to where Mont stood, glaring at him pointedly until he handed the baby to her. She held Alex tightly against her and wiped a tear of hers out of his wispy hair.

"What about everything we've done together, 'Ponine? What about the time I watched you die for a month? What about that, Éponine?"

"Jesus, I'm fucking sorry I was sick. My deepest fucking apologies, Montparnasse." Éponine said through her teeth, her eyes practically red with anger.

"You know what, Éponine? You can't just fucking leave because of this one mistake I made! We love each other, Ép. You're my everything."

"I don't care if I'm your everything, because I don't give a shit about you. See you in Hell, asshole." She closed the door of the nursery behind her, leaving Montparnasse standing alone next to the empty crib.

She made sure one more time she had all of her belongings packed up in black plastic bags, which she stuffed in the bottom of Alex's carriage. She angrily swatted the last of her hot tears out of her face.

"Sorry about that, Al," she whispered, her voice shaking, "We'll get away from daddy. He doesn't love you like I do. We'll go somewhere you'll be safe. Okay, baby? I love you."

The baby replied simply with a sweet little face he always made when he heard his mother's raspy voice. His happy, rather clueless expression killed Éponine inside. She sobbed openly, loudly, so that Montparnasse would hear through the door he remained behind. He let out a loud cry, a growl almost. She could hear him clearly and she let out another loud sob, holding Alex tightly. She could live without Mont. Alex was all she needed to be happy, not to be alone.

"Bye! Go fuck yourself!" She shouted, trying to control her shaking voice as she slammed the door behind her, her son and belongings with her.

And just like that, his angels had both flown away. All that was left of him was doubled over on the floor of the nursery, sobs racking his strong body. He had known all along that Éponine deserved better, Alexandre deserved better. He had always accepted this, but he was never quite ready to let them go, he would always try and clip their wings. But they were gone now. And he was empty. But wasn't that exactly what he deserved.

"We didn't need him anyways," Éponine muttered to her son.