Chapter 28

A/N- Thank you for bearing with me as usual. And thank you for supporting this story!

Special thanks to Leara Bribage for kindly editing and revising my chapters :)

Enjolras awoke early the next morning with very hazy memories of the night before. As briefly as he could, he recalled the harsh memories of the barricade that had played back to him. It had been moments before he had deserted them—all he could see was men falling repeatedly; and with each tortured cry, he knew that he was to blame. He remembered how the vision had faded and how Eponine sat in front of him—like a bright light shining through the fog, a glimmer of life among the dead. He had clung onto her, trying to find some glimpse of reality in her presence. The longer he had held on, the more the barricade faded, and the room around him appeared from the mist of his dreams.

In his haze of exhaustion, he could remember the feeling of her stroking his hair, the way their bodies had been enveloped together, and the sensation of feeling so close to someone physically, yet very far away in his mind.

A wave of shame washed over him as he remembered the state he had been in, as well. Even though he was alone now, he could feel his face burn a brilliant red at the thought of someone consoling him like he was a small child. He knew that comfort had been what he needed, but looking back on it, he felt horrible for giving her the burden of having to see him like that. However, Enjolras had kept his emotions locked up for so long that they were bound to explode out of him sooner or later. The events of yesterday may have been his tipping point.

He should have felt guilty for taking advantage of Eponine like that—especially, given his confused feelings towards her. But it was she who had chosen to come in to help him, he hadn't asked her to. In fact, if he had been given the choice, he wouldn't have asked her to come in at all. On the contrary, it only complicated his feelings further.

Sitting up on the bed and swinging his legs over the side, he placed his head in his hands. The answer to all his questions was inside of him, but he was too scared to search for it. He was scared at the thought of what he might find. And he wasn't a man scared easily.

He dressed with considerable trouble due to his ankle because despite it being strapped up, it was still painful to put weight on. Hobbling along the corridor, he managed to make his way downstairs to the dining room, where he could hear talking coming from. As soon as he opened the door, he heard the scraping back of chairs and felt someone supporting him from the side. He looked up from his haze of pain to see that it was Cosette.

"Merci, Madame," he panted, a little out of breath.

"You needn't have come down on your own," Marius said rather pointedly, after he had sat down. He merely glared at him, looking down to see that a plate filled with omelette had been placed in front of him. He suddenly didn't feel so hungry, but he would try to eat for politeness's sake.

"I was thinking I should go home today," he mused some time later, interrupting the idle small talk that had been going on around him.

The room broke into a chorus of disapprovals.

"But, Monsieur Enjolras, your ankle!" Cosette protested.

"Cosette's right. You're not well enough yet," Marius nodded earnestly.

"What about Montparnasse?" Eponine challenged him, and her small comment was the first one that actually changed his mind. Flashes of the night before came rushing back to him—most prominently, the way he had held onto her, and she hadn't recoiled.

He stared at her big brown eyes, but he didn't reply.

"He doesn't forget, Enjolras. He saw your face, and if he sees you again...," she said when he didn't reply. He listened seriously, but his heart leapt at her use of his name rather than Monsieur—it wasn't often she did that in the company of others.

"Eponine's right. Wait until you're well enough to go to the police at least," Marius backed up Eponine. Once upon a time, that would've made her eyes light up in delight, but she simply looked at Enjolras, solemnly awaiting his answer.

"Fine," he muttered resignedly, returning his attention to his food. But in the corner of his eye, he spied everyone giving triumphant smirks at Eponine, who was also looking rather smug.

He ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, allowing the conversation to continue around him. It was mundane, small talk that he had no desire to join in. His ankle was throbbing gently, making him wince a little. He didn't want to attract any attention to himself— particularly from Eponine, who he felt would treat him differently because of last night. It had been a rare burst of emotion that he wasn't planning on repeating any time soon.

He kept his face stony—his icy blue eyes filled with a stormy indifference. Enjolras could feel the humiliation stabbing in him like a knife, so he kept hoping and praying that Eponine haven't told Cosette and Marius about what had happened last night.

XXX

Eponine felt happy because of the small victory that she had convinced Enjolras to stay. She was still wary of his emotional state, but with a small glance, she could see that his marble face didn't look like it would break any time soon.

"What will you do today, Eponine?" Cosette gave her a warm smile.

"I don't know, really. I would rather go out, but I don't think that's wise," she replied, "I suppose I could do some reading... or something."

"There are some books in the drawing room if you want to borrow them," Cosette offered kindly.

"Thank you. Will you two be in the house today?" she asked, taking a bite of her food. She would never bore of tasting rich food—it was so different from the things she had been eating her whole life.

"I have work, and Cosette is visiting her father—he's not well, you see," Marius answered, smiling.

"I hope he gets better soon," Eponine said graciously, feeling a little awkward participating in small talk. The group relapsed into silence before Marius and Cosette excused themselves to get ready for the day ahead.

It still amazed her how she could now be around Cosette and Marius without feeling any kind of pain or jealousy. She was almost happy for the couple. Cosette's ill treatment in her early life made her deserving of every good thing that happened to her. And a small part of her was glad to see Marius happy.

Enjolras must have seen her thinking of something, because when she turned her head towards him, his eyes were piercing hers. The murky brown meeting the stormy blue, she could tell what he was thinking, or at least, she thought she could.

"A-about last night," she began, sounding a little tongue- tied and awkward.

"No," he said defiantly. Wearing an expressionless mask, he kept his gaze steady at her.

"I was only going to say—" she tried to talk again, but found that she was interrupted.

"I don't want your pity, 'Ponine," his voice growing a little angrier. Eponine glared back at him. Why was he being so rude?

"That wasn't what I was going t—" she tried anew, but once again, she is cut off by the sound of his chair scraping back. Enjolras had obviously forgotten about his ankle because the moment he stood up, all his weight shifted away from his bad leg as he leaned on the table, grimacing in pain.

Despite his rudeness, Eponine still walked around to help him—though she may have gripped his arm a little tighter than she should have.

She led him into the drawing room, seeing as that was where Cosette had said the books would be. After helping Enjolras down into a wing backed chair, she began to pour over the books that they had.

There were books from Marius' school days, general manuscripts, and some novels. One in particular caught her attention—Orgueil et Prejudges. It was the same book that Enjolras had given to her a long time ago. She carefully extracted it from the tightly packed shelf before she settled down to read.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you in the dining room," Enjolras said after some time. Eponine looked up to find that he is not looking at her but rather out of the window.

"It's fine," she paused, contemplating whether voicing her thoughts would be a good idea. "I just would've liked to explain."

Enjolras' head turned so fast that she had to blink a few times out of shock. She stood up, placing the book on the table gently before crossing her arms in defence.

"There's nothing to explain," he almost growled, clearly feeling rather defensive himself.

"There is!" Eponine protested as she watched him rise with some difficulty.

"I can assure you that there isn't!" he was almost shouting now—another uncharacteristic rupture of passion, but she had seen him angry before, so it didn't faze her much.

"I wasn't going to tease you about it—if that's what you were worried about!" she properly yelled at him, this time going a little red in the face.

"It's nothing of your concern, and you wouldn't need to bring it up if you stopped caring so damn much!" he shouted, leaning forward aggressively.

He looked so formidable that out of habit, Eponine raised her arms to protect her face. She could feel them shaking—her body knew what usually came after someone yelled at her. She scrunched up her eyes, waiting for the blow, but the seconds ticked away, and all she could hear was his heavy breathing. Slowly, she lowered her arms to find him still looking at her, only not angrily anymore. His face was still red on the cheeks and his lips were tightly shut in a thin line, but his eyes were unreadable.

They stood in silence as Eponine tried to stop her shaking hands and calm her anger and fear.

"I wasn't going to hurt you, Eponine," Enjolras spoke quietly and softly, "I would never do that."

Eponine nodded to show that she understood, but she didn't speak yet—she didn't know what she could say after that. She supposed an apology would be a start.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, looking down sheepishly.

"As am I, but Eponine," he placed his hands in hers to gain her attention further, "You have to know that I wouldn't hurt you, not ever."

She finally looked up at him, but found it rather like gazing into a bright light, almost painful to stare at while too intriguing to glance away from.

"I know," she breathed, feeling as though something had tethered them together; and thus, propelling them towards each other.

But then it's over, and he's sat back down again, engrossed in deep thought. So Eponine picked up her book again and began to read. But not before she sneaked one last look at Enjolras. She saw that he looked sad, but not the kind of sadness as the night before had been, but an aged melancholy—the kind of poignancy you saw on elderly people as they gazed back, waiting for their end. He shook his head and glanced below, smiling—it's only a small smile, but it made her wish she could read his mind.