December 26th 1917
Dear Eponine,
I thought I would give you a month to grieve, to come to terms with your loss before writing again. I know you received by last letter, because Courfeyrac has visited me almost everyday since he discovered the news, but you have not come once. I am disappointed but I understand. It is also obvious that I am regularly meeting with Courfeyrac because he delivered this letter to you. I thought that that would be a more efficient way of delivering letters.
I am sure you already know this, but I will repeat it again if Courfeyrac did not pass on the news. They are forcing me to remain here for three months. Following my surgeries there were a number of infections and for a while there, they were thinking of amputating my leg. And whilst that sounds incredibly terrible, I almost wanted it to happen, because then it would be impossible for me to return to war.
I pray that you are not angry with me, because I never wished for anything to happen. If I could have my time over I would have moved my books over into their more stable trenches, I would have ensured that Gavroche was out on watch and I was in the trenches as the bombs hit. If I could, I would do anything and everything to keep Gavroche alive. The truth is that when I was at the trenches, at Ypres, I thought I was doing everything to keep him safe that was all that occupied my thoughts ensuring that Gavroche would return safely home to you as soon as possible. Every action, choice and decision made was to keep him safe. I though that by giving the boys something to do, some books to read that it may keep them out of trouble as these days there is nothing more dangerous than going outside for a game of football when the enemy is so close. Every time they wanted to play football I would suggest that they would read a book. It still surprises me know that they listened every time. I never wanted this to happen, I did everything to stop it but in the end I let you down and I let myself down and for that I am sorry.
Eponine, please write to me, please speak to me because I need this, I need you to be here for me and right now you are not. Right now when I feel as if I need you more than anything you are not here and it saddens me. For years we have discussed my possible return and how you would be there but right now I am here, I am in Paris and you are not coming to visit me, and you promised you would. You said you would be here for me when I returned and I have, I am here, albeit temporarily but you are not. I saw Courfeyrac last on Christmas Day and he said you are refusing to even talk about what happened to Gavroche, but talking is important, talking will help you confront what happened and try to make sense from it. From there you can work to manage how you feel, manage the loss that you have experienced.
People often say that with time, the scars left behind by the people we have lost heal. However I can tell you now that that is not true, those scars, those wounds never heal, but you learn to manage the loss. I still remember when I learned of Combeferre's death. To this day when I think of it, it brings me physical pain and I feel sick because he was one of my closest and longest friends. My life will never be the same without him, there is this gaping whole where he once was. There are so many times when something would happen in the trenches, some drunk idiot ignorantly quoting the wrong philosophers and in the incorrect context, and I think to myself "I need to remember this moment so that I can tell Combeferre". Though almost instantaneously I remember that I will never be able to tell him that, I will never see his reaction. All that comforts me is the idea that perhaps he is here in spirit, and that he is laughing along with me, it is all that provides me with some comfort. It is strange for I was never a particularly religious man. In fact, during our earlier letters I almost told you off on several occasions for praying for the soldier's safe returns rather that getting out in the community and actually doing something to bring it about. However, here I am now, hoping that Combeferre is no longer in pain, wherever he may be. I guess when things are particularly difficult one has a tendency to cling to the structures which give them comfort and support.
In saying this, I want you to know that I do not expect to see you happy, smiling or anything like that. I know you will be upset, and you will be upset for a long time still. You will grieve for month, for years and there is nothing wrong with that. I will grieve alongside you because all I wanted to do was keep him safe and I failed. But please, grieve with me by your side.
I have also written to my parents, they said that they will be leaving for Paris soon. I am sure they will want to see you; they spoke so highly of you after your visit to them. Even if you cannot manage to visit them at the hospital with me, please at least invite them for some coffee, do not let you anger and disappointment at me hurt even more people. I hope that soon you will be in the position to visit me in the hospital if not, could you please just write to me, I do not know how many other ways I can write it, I need you right now.
Love
Enjolras
February 3rd 1918,
Dear Eponine,
You still have not visited, which is still very disappointing. It was strange, just a few days ago, my dinner had been brought to me, some stew and jelly for dessert when I saw a young girl walking towards me, and I thought it was you. I though perhaps now you were ready to see me, and there was this incredible rush of excitement which course right through me, and all of a sudden I felt brilliant, like I should not even be in hospital. I was overjoyed.
But it was not you.
Rather, it was your sister Azelma, whom I had never met previously. She looks just like my memory of you, that vague outline of a tall girl with dark hair and even darker eyes. Her face was long and her cheekbones high and as she was walking towards my bed I could not believe that I have ever forgotten those features.
But then she spoke and I knew it could not be her. With every word she would say her eyes remained pointed to the ground, her voice was soft, so soft that I could barely understand her. I found the particularly strange because if she had been working in the hospital for all these yes like you had said she must be used to soldiers who are half deaf from all of the bomb blasts.
Eventually she sat down, smiling at me and asking how I was. It is so strange to see someone smile even though the sadness within her is overwhelming. She asked me to tell her about Gavroche when he went away, where he was when he died and if I was there. Had you not told anyone anything? When I write these letters to you I do expect some of the most important details to your family.
Furthermore, I had encouraged you to start talking to someone about what you were feeling, I was hoping that maybe you, Courfeyrac and Azelma would talk about the death, to start working through these emotions but obviously not. It was so incredibly obvious that Azelma just wanted someone to talk to, and perhaps even more so, someone to listen to. You are more than an older sister to her, you are the mother who she never had, I should not have to remind you of that.
I know you are upset, I know all you are probably doing is lying on the couch completely devastated and I understand how you feel but you have a family to take care of, to support. It is not only me who needs you right now but them too.
Eponine, you need to do something, at least for your family, and then maybe for me, I do not know how often I have to repeat the same thing to you; Eponine, we are all relying on you.
Love,
Enjolras
March 7th 1918,
Dear Eponine,
Courfeyrac came to visit me with my parents today, though I am sure you already know that.
They brought food and by just the smell of it I knew it was not store bought, nor was it my mothers because I am sure the warm stew and fresh pastry would not have kept the whole way to Paris.
This leaves me with only one other option, that you are cooking again. My mother who stated that she never thought my apartment could look so homely or smell so delightful later confirmed this. Whenever she used to come to Paris she would always criticize my lodgings, claiming that a nomad or ghost could be living there for all she knew – I believe she particularly hated the lack of family photographs in the home - I do not think she quite realized at the time that photographs were quite the luxury. Needless to say she loves your decorating skills, though from what I have gathered speaking to my mother, it is impossible for you to do anything wrong in her eyes.
Anyone, whilst my parents were crying over finally seeing me again, I could not help but eye off the bag which I was sure the brilliant smell were wafting from, hoping it was for me. And to my delight it was, finally I got to taste the food, which you are so passionate about and it tasted even better than I could have ever imagined. Words could barely even describe how wonderful it was, and how annoyed I was for having missed out on it for all these years. My parents said you were as well as could be expected, still upset but able to put on a brave face. I thank you for that Eponine as for quite a while I was very worried that you would refuse to see them in the same way that you have refused to see me and I knew they would take great offense to it.
I have begun walking and running again, and was considering walking to visit you, Courfeyrac convinced me otherwise which was quite smart as I can imagine that you would have refused to answer the door if you knew that I was there. I have also spoken to Azelma since I last wrote to you, she says your getting up more and on the odd occasion even engaging people in conversation, I am choosing to believe my advice worked.
Unfortunately Eponine, my time here in Paris is coming to an end. I leave on Friday for Somme, ask Courfeyrac for the address if you are interested in writing to me. It is here I also must say that I will not be writing another letter to you, for there is nothing more painful than writing a letter, which goes, unanswered. I know you are receiving them, I know you are reading them - your family has been able to tell me that much – and therefore to know that you are reading my letters, and consciously choosing not to reply really does hurt me. Therefore this will be my last letter to you.
Love
Enjolras
AN: Wow guys all the love for Gavroche was amazing, thank you so much, due to the overwhelming amount of comments (thank you so much!) I have answered everyone in private message with just anons being answered here. Thank you all so much for all the reviews last chapter and I hope this one lived up to your expectations :)
Kirsten, I am so sorry that this chapter wasn't what you were hoping for but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thank you for reviewing.
Please remember constructive criticism and reviews in general are always appreciated.