Disclaimer: Les Misérables and all its associated characters do not belong to me.

Summary: One inch was all it took for Éponine's life to be spared and it altered the fates of four people. Éponine/Enjolras.

Author's Notes: Once again, THANK YOU so much for the fantastic reviews and new follows/faves! Such kind words, I am floored. Thanks also to all who replied about my query about the barricade boys (Yes, they are from the south, except for Bousset). This actually fits perfectly with the family history I've composed for Enjolras ;-).

This chapter is dedicated to teachers. I am not one and do not think I have enough patience to be one. I know that not all teachers are perfect, but I've met some really excellent ones, who really inspired me and made a difference in my learning. I have a great respect for the profession and think that they do not get enough appreciation. So if any of my readers are one, here's to you! You shall see precisely why I'm dedicating this to you :-).

Special thanks also goes to kpmushu on tumblr for bouncing ideas with me for this chapter. This was tough to write, but you really helped me develop the concept :-).


Chapter 29

On the afternoon following Joly and Musichetta's visit, when Éponine had had a few errands to run, Enjolras sat by himself in the dining room to do his correspondence. He normally would do his writing on the desk in the bedroom, but today, as his papers and pens were already strewn across the dining table after his session with Théo, he decided to just continue on there.

The light was not good here late in the day, he immediately thought, since the window overlooked rows of buildings behind the bakery. He was considering whether he could be bothered moving his things to the bedroom when a scene in the alleyway below caught his eye.

Monsieur Rimbaud was standing outside the back door of the bakery, smoking his pipe, when a number of street urchins started approaching him one by one. They were not moving furtively — as they typically would when looking to pickpocket someone — but were behaving as if they had a certain familiarity with the man, some even greeting him cheerfully. And indeed, the latter proceeded to wordlessly hand a sack to the tallest gamin and went to sit on one of the wooden boxes littering the back street.

As it turned out, the sack contained bread and the boy holding it handed a roll to each of his companions. They all then took a seat around the baker as they ate the bread. Once in a while, one of the children spoke to Monsieur Rimbaud and the latter returned speech, but he kept his answers short, just seemingly content to be in their company, still smoking his pipe. He was presumably taking a break from his work at the bakery.

Enjolras watched the whole scene unfolded with much amazement. He knew from Éponine that the Monsieur was supplying bread to the convent, oftentimes offering his leftover stock free-of-charge through his mother-in-law, but it appeared that he had also taken it upon himself to feed some of the street children in the vicinity.

He decided to make his way downstairs to try and speak to the man. It was a particularly strenuous effort for him to brave those four flights down, but when he arrived on the ground floor, suitably breathless, he found to his luck that the baker was still sitting outside, though now he was by himself. The children must have all departed somewhere, taking the sack of bread with them.

He greeted the Monsieur politely and the two exchanged pleasantries. They had not spoken since the day he and Éponine arrived, as the baker never ventured upstairs to visit the couple's flat, being a seemingly incurious person. And indeed, Enjolras was to discover that the baker really was a man of a few words, who felt comfortable at being around another person without saying anything. He did not even ask why Enjolras wanted to keep him company and only silently offered the other man a puff of his pipe, to which Enjolras declined, as he did not smoke.

Never one to dawdle, Enjolras decided to just get into the reason of why he was here and commented on what he saw through the window just now. Rimbaud only shrugged his shoulders in response and said that he had baked too much bread today. It would have been a waste to throw it away.

"Forgive me, Monsieur, I do not mean to pry," Enjolras said slowly, "But it looks to me like a regular occurrence. Those children behaved like they know you."

The man shrugged again and finally said, "It is a special privilege that I have as a baker to be surrounded by food. I do not believe it right for children to starve."

Enjolras nodded and conveyed respect in his tone, "For what it's worth, I think it is an admirable thing that you are doing, Monsieur. Not many people can be as generous, especially when profit becomes a consideration and the price of flour is not low."

Rimbaud remained quiet for a while, silently puffing away. Enjolras thought that perhaps he'd had his fill of sharing and was about to move the conversation to another subject, but before he could do so, the man spoke again, saying the following in a matter-of-fact manner, "Well, it is very simple for me, Monsieur. I used to be one of them."

The baker must have decided that Enjolras was someone with whom he could confide, because he was quite forthcoming in speech. He told him of how he used to scrap in the streets for food and shelter, just like these children. It was certainly a tough life that he would not wish on anyone. His fortune changed, however, when at ten years old he got a job as a kitchen hand. It afforded him with a roof over his head and the crucial knowledge to make his own food. When it was discovered that he was particularly talented at baking, his master apprenticed him to a pâtissier. He remained there for many years, honing his skills and saving money, until he had enough to open up his own bakery.

He had never forgotten his humble beginnings though and vowed that whenever he could, he would try and help those street children. He felt that if they were not starving, if at least the urchins did not have to worry so much about how they could get their daily bread, then they would be less desperate for money and, in turn, would hopefully be discouraged from a life of criminality. Throughout the years, he had in fact seen too many of his fellow gamins perishing in prison, just because they were out of options...

Rimbaud had even hired some of the older children to help around the bakery, intending to teach them this particular skill of turning flour and water into sustenance. Nevertheless, the reality was, not everyone was naturally good at baking, so despite his instructions, it was likely that some of these children might need to learn other skills as well.

At this point, Rimbaud asked how his son's lessons were progressing. Enjolras told him that Théo was a bright boy and proved to be a rather quick study. The Monsieur had made the correct decision in engaging a tutor for him, he said, as his was a mind that would certainly benefit from frequent stimulation.

The baker nodded, "I recognize literacy as the way of the future, Monsieur. No offense to your old profession — my mother-in-law said that you were a soldier? — but what you do now is even more important. Anyone can pick up a rifle when pushed to it, but only a few can pick up a pen and teach. I learnt reading and writing by myself in the kitchens, which was not easy. Even now I only know the basics, certainly not good enough to teach my own son. It seems like baking is my only talent."

"But it is such a valuable, practical skill, is it not? You said so yourself that people struggle, doing whatever they can for money, just so they can buy what you make."

"Yes, and I thank God everyday that I am where I am. But not everyone is as fortunate. I think being literate opens more doors, which is what I want for my own children and also those gamins, if I am to be honest, Monsieur."

Enjolras contemplated it for a while, taking in the baker's words. The solution was so obvious that it struck him suddenly, but without surprise. Here was a way he might be able to contribute in a practical manner from his current predicament, given the cast still on his leg and the need to remain hidden. He had never thought that he would volunteer the service that he was about to offer, but he felt it almost his duty to do so...

"Monsieur, I wonder if you would you consider the following proposition. Would you tolerate Théo learning with other children? He would no longer have the benefit of a private tutelage, but if you consent to it, then I would not mind taking on some of those street children as students alongside your son. I will not charge a sou, of course, as this would help me see if the life of a teacher is indeed for me. Nevertheless, if you do insist on Théo learning individually, then that is fine as well, as the other children can perhaps come later on in the afternoon or along with Jacques in the evening. Either way, I think it will be good for them to get off the streets even for a few hours to learn this skill."

The baker took a few moments to think about it and finally said, "That is quite a generous offer, Monsieur. I shall need to discuss it with my wife. I am not sure she will like Théo interacting with the street children, but I personally think that it will be good for him to have playmates from the real world, lest he thinks that everyone is as lucky as him."

Enjolras nodded and the two men fell once more into a companionable silence. When the baker left to return to work, Enjolras decided to stay behind and sit for a while in the alleyway. It was not everyday that he could spend time outdoors, so he relished the opportunity. He did not even mind that he was sitting in a rather dirty street. There was something that was forming in his mind which he needed to work out. And he was not quite ready to exert himself over the journey up the stairs anyway.

He was still passing the time there when Éponine returned. Monsieur Rimbaud advised her of her husband's whereabouts when she passed through the bakery on her way up to the flat. She came out the back to find him sitting on a crate with his back against the wall, staring at the opposite building.

"What are you doing here, Enjolras?" Éponine asked with a smile, putting her arms around his shoulders and kissing him hello.

"I am thinking of Condorcet."

She suitably looked at him with a quizzical expression, so he asked her to sit down on a box next to him. He then proceeded to tell her of the scene he'd witnessed today, which prompted his chat with Monsieur Rimbaud and the offer he'd subsequently made to the other man.

Éponine looked at him in delight, "You would do that, Enjolras? You would teach the gamins?"

"I must admit that I still do not think that I am very good with children, but I figure that it is something I can do from where I am."

"I am amazed and happy to hear it of course, since I have been telling you for a while now that you should consider it a potential profession for yourself. Speaking as one of your students, I can say that you are very good at it. And I know that you enjoy it too, because I see this certain expression on your face whenever I've understood something you taught me."

Enjolras laughed a little, "You and Combeferre are of like mind. He has been telling me, quite steadily, for as long as I've known him that progress can only be made gradually through education."

"And here I thought your change of heart is solely my doing," Éponine teased. "As it turns out, Monsieur Combeferre has been in your mind all along."

"Well, I would not say that I have had a complete change of heart, but I am certainly more open to this alternate path. And I give you both credit. It is quite fascinating to me how the two of you often come to the same conclusions, despite not communing with each other. I mentioned Condorcet earlier… I never told you, but that Condorcet work that you say is your favorite is also Combeferre's favorite. The copy that we are using is actually a gift from him from when I first met him. I think he had rather hoped that I would read it and be inspired to be more temperate in my ambitions. I must admit that I did not truly appreciate it the first time around."

"Is that so? But it is the first one you asked me to read to you! You must have liked it more than you realized, Enjolras."

"Yes, Combeferre would have made a conscious decision to pack it with my things when he stopped by my house, guessing correctly that I might want to re-read it the first chance I got, given my circumstances." Enjolras then told her of the situation surrounding Condorcet when he wrote this tome, namely that he was also under a self-imposed house arrest to avoid capture by the authorities.

"I can see how it would have appealed to you."

"And the more we read and discussed it together, the more I understand why it appeals to Combeferre to such a significant extent. You and he actually have different reasonings for liking the book, deriving from his patience and your practicality, but it had not occurred to me until now that I can in fact adapt both of your interpretations for my own purposes."

Because Éponine was looking at him with a puzzled expression, Enjolras continued on, "For Combeferre, Condorcet's work represents his overarching belief that equality, freedom, and justice are hand-in-hand with scientific progress, that if we cultivate rationalism patiently through education, then we as a society can evolve to embrace universal human rights and reject the shackles of injustices. For you, Éponine, I think it is more personal. You embrace Condorcet's idea that anyone is capable of independent thought and self-improvement, because that is precisely who you are when freed of those shackles I mentioned. You have always had the intellectual capacity to learn, but your conditions previously prevented you from doing so. And if that happened to you, then it is not out of the question that it can happen to many others who are in your previous position."

Éponine remained silent, seemingly in contemplation. She finally spoke slowly, "In other words, because you have managed to help me learn, then you are open to passing on your knowledge to others as a teacher?"

He had to smile at Éponine's knack for re-phrasing his ideas into simple terms, "Yes, and here is the other revelation that came to me, as I sit here. Monsieur Rimbaud and I discussed talents earlier, about how he is particularly suited to life as a baker because he is good at baking bread. It is simple for him. For me, it is not so, because my talents are not entirely practical. I cannot make food like Rimbaud or provide healthcare like Combeferre, Joly, and even yourself, Éponine, as I still maintain that you can have a career as a medical caretaker. Musichetta makes clothes for a living and Jacques builds houses. All of these — food, health, clothing, shelter — are essentials in life. And yet, I cannot produce any of them. My talents are completely arbitrary. You once said that I am good at speaking and passing my knowledge on to others. In the past, I used this to create and lead my own revolutionary group. I can no longer realistically do so from my current position, so I must temper my ambitions and consider what is practical. You and Combeferre are correct, of course, that what I can do instead is take on students. It uses the same talents, but on a smaller and more personal scale, which is something that I admittedly would find challenging. Nevertheless, this is what I have resolved to do for the moment, while we are here. I still hold hope that in future I will be able to return to a position or profession where I can use my words to spur people into enacting widespread change, but… I no longer insist that the world can only be changed brazenly through the fires of revolution."

Éponine understood that this was quite a breakthrough for Enjolras, but she was also lost for words. Enjolras did not mind though, as he took her hand and said lightly, "Of course I do not know how receptive those street children would be to learning. I still remember what you said about practical, survival matters taking precedence over mostly everything, including, I would hazard to guess, learning to read and write."

"Well, you are lucky that you have me, then, Enjolras," Éponine said with a wide smile. "As a former gamine, I may perhaps be the ideal person to assist you in handling the children. You seem to be doing well with Théo, but he is only one boy. Street urchins are a different breed altogether. Their mind is crafty and most even have their own language. Yes, some would definitely be resistant to learning, but I would never underplay your ability to inspire and change minds."

"Thank you, Éponine," he replied simply. He felt extremely grateful for having her in his support system. She was the truly the main reason he was healing well, both mentally and physically, in his life after the barricades. He did not know how he would have fared if he did not have her.

They had turned their heads to look at each other while sitting side-by-side, so he only had to lean forward a little to capture her lips. He tried to express his gratitude in his kiss, his hand softly caressing her cheek. He had by now kissed her frequently, but he felt that each time was no less significant than the one before. If it were not for the fact that he was suddenly aware that they were kissing in a backdrop that was not quite so romantic, he would have blurted out just exactly how he felt about her then and there.

Éponine was thinking along the same lines, as she broke the kiss and said with fire behind her eyes, "Now come on. Let us go up and continue this in a nicer setting. I have done my fair share of kissing in dirty alleyways. It does not precisely put me in a romantic mood."

Enjolras raised his eyebrows at her, but she only chuckled, "Do not worry, Enjolras. I will take your lips over anyone else's and I will still kiss you anywhere you'd like."

Her words made him feel hot straight away and he wondered whether she was referring to the venue or… a place on his body. Either way, he had to concentrate on calming himself.

Éponine was still chuckling as she helped him up the stairs. It really was rather easy to stir this virginal man of hers.

Enjolras did not manage to do his correspondence after all. Instead, he lazed away the afternoon on the bed with Éponine, watching the sunset. He argued to himself that he was too tired from the trek up and down the stairs, but he truly cherished these quiet moments when he could just hold her in his arms. They still had not moved past kisses and caresses, but he found himself also increasingly anxious to get this cast off and regain his fitness…

Later on in the evening, Jacques arrived for his session accompanied by Monsieur Rimbaud. He had spoken to his wife, the latter said, and though she was not completely happy with it, they had agreed that it would be fine if Enjolras took those gamins on as Théo's classmates. Rimbaud would purchase learning books for them, as it was the least he could do, given that Enjolras was doing the lessons for free. And he could also start sending the children to Enjolras tomorrow if the latter did not object?

Enjolras looked at Éponine, who gave him an encouraging smile, wordlessly telling him that she would be right there beside him, so he told Rimbaud that that sounded like a good plan.

Éponine, Théo, Jacques, and the gamins… The list of Enjolras' students kept on growing. But it would not stop there, as Enjolras would soon find that there were others still who would wish to learn from him.


Author's Notes: I know, more OC! I promise, this all has a purpose, trust me :-). Rimbaud's background is inspired by one belonging to Marie Antoine (Antonin) Carême, who came from the slums but managed to become the first celebrity chef. He pioneered the "high art" of French cooking (grande cuisine) and reportedly baked Napoleon's wedding cake. I stumbled upon him when I was researching (for Chapter 16) on whether or not people would have casually baked cakes in the 1830s. I go off on a tangent when I research (ha!).

While this is indeed mainly a romantic story between Enjolras and Éponine, I think for either of them to 'realistically' settle to a life after the barricades, they need to find a new purpose for themselves. And I do not think it healthy if their purpose is solely each other (then they would only be replacing Patria and Marius with each other, which I do not think is a basis for a solid, long-term relationship). So this is what I am exploring for Enjolras in this chapter. I think the failure of the barricades would have prompted him to re-consider his approach. And given that Combeferre and Éponine are the two closest people to him, their values (patience and practicality) would have seeped into his mind and allowed him to come up with this alternate profession, at least for a while.

I do not mind telling you that writing this chapter was like squeezing blood through stone. It was like my words were drying up for a while and I had massive self-doubts. I wasn't sure whether I should go ahead with this storyline for Enjolras, but in the end, this was how I originally planned it, so I am going to go with it.

Anyway, please review if you can. What do you think of Enjolras as a teacer? Is that really stretching your disbelief? Until next time!