What if Enjolras and Éponine had to learn to live with their lives apart?

The first month and a half of Éponine and Enjolras' temporary separation went reasonably well. Enjolras gradually reduced his visits to two nights a week and from Friday evening through to Sunday night (because even he had to admit that it was exhausting to have to get up at four in the morning simply to get back in time for work). The time he sent with Éponine and the twins was even more special than it had been before, and Enjolras found himself longing for the weekends. He and Éponine had started working on their plans for another child, with no obvious results as of yet. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't end of the world.

During their time apart, Éponine and Enjolras relied on letters to stay in contact, which, for a while, was arguably more romantic and far less likely to cause an argument...

September 1st 1834

Dearest Éponine,

It is strange to be communicating like this with you when, for the last two and a half years, I have become so accustomed to spoken conversation. I feel myself slipping into more formal ways to address you, despite the fact that we have been together for so long.

It is, however, a change. And I'm nothing if not adaptable.

Firstly, I must ask: how are the twins? I know it has only been a few days since I last saw them, but already I'm realising just how much I enjoy the everyday tasks of being a parent.

Secondly, how are you? Are you alright, on your own? Have the Amis been taking care of you? You haven't had any trouble with anyone at all? Goodness, it's ridiculous how my being away makes me worry... never before have I worried so much about leaving you alone. I often forget, recently, just how strong you really are.

Moreau has kept me reasonably busy over the last two days; I'm already having to plan meetings with Marius and Grantaire, and all four of us will have to meet again soon. Things move so much faster in the middle of the city.

I am missing you already and I can't wait for Friday; it has already been far too long since I last saw you.

Love,

Your Enjolras xx

*. . .*

Éponine read the letter on Thursday, smiling slightly; she, too, was missing her beloved, and she found it bizarre how the world looked so much bigger now that Enjolras wasn't with her.

"Mama?" Evette tugged her sleeve, "When is Papa home?" Éponine stroked her daughter's hair lovingly.

"Tomorrow, Evie," she said, "I'm sure he can't wait to tell you and Elyse a story." Evette hugged her mother's legs tightly before running off again. As Éponine refolded the letter and tucked it away in a drawer, there was a knock at the door.

Opening it, she smiled slightly to see Grantaire, "Well, well. The last time you made a house call it was to banish Enjolras and I to Cosette and Marius' holiday home. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Grantaire smirked.

"I thought you could use the company," he said, shutting the door behind him as Éponine let him in, "Plus: I brought cake." Éponine grinned.

"That's always a bonus," she said, "I didn't know you could bake..." Grantaire chuckled.

"I can't," he said, "It was made by... it was a gift."

Éponine rolled her eyes, "I know about Lillé, Grantaire," she said, "You can be honest around me. I think you two are adorable together." Grantaire went bright red with embarrassment.

"I still don't know how you worked that out," he grumbled, sitting at the table as she made tea.

"The way the two of you danced at mine and Enjolras' wedding," Éponine said, smiling at the memory, "It was the same way Apollo and I were dancing. I know my own feelings when they're reflected back at me, Grantaire. That girl loves you, I know that for sure."

"You think?" he asked, letting the tiniest bit of insecurity slip into his tone. Éponine smiled.

"I know," she said, "Now, this calls for cake."

September 8th 1834

My Apollo,

That truly was a wonderful weekend. It truly reminded me of just how much I'm wishing for us to have a child together. Sometimes I think that our separation makes the time we spend together even more special, but then I realise that it simply makes our time apart more heartbreaking. I miss you so very much, Enjolras.

The twins are at a loss without their father. Elyse misses the time she spends with you each Thursday, and Evette has asked me to read her the same book every night for the last five days because it is apparently your favourite (A Revolutionary Tale; a wise choice, dearest Enjolras!). They, too, miss you greatly.

Gavroche ordered me to tell you that he'll make sure that I'm safe whilst you're away; it was an interesting conversation to have with him when he arrived last night. He said he's looking forward to seeing you when you next come home, as are the rest of the Amis.

I thought when you come back one evening, we could go to the Musain; it feels like an age since we were all together. It may well be the last time in a while.

Stay safe out there in the depths of Paris, my love. You never know what might happen!

Love,

Your Éponine xx

*. . .*

On the other side of Paris two days later, Enjolras was smiling slightly as he reached the part of Éponine's letter where Gavroche was mentioned. Enjolras knew that if Gavroche was protecting Éponine, then Courfeyrac was most likely protecting her too, which put his mind at ease slightly.

He sighed, casting his gaze over the pile of paper work he was supposed to be going over, his heart filling with dread as he realised that it would be two more days before he could be reunited with his family.

Folding Éponine's letter carefully and tucking it away, he immersed himself in statistics and badly written reports, wondering what on earth happened to the days when he would be conducting speeches and being passionate about something he truly believed in.

September 30th 1834

Dear 'Ponine,

I'm afraid I'll be late this weekend; due to our meeting on Tuesday, Moreau is insisting that I finish all of the work I missed before I return. I honestly don't believe that I can finish it by Friday afternoon, so I hope to be with you at some point on Saturday.

Please tell the twins that I'm sorry; I'll read them an extra story on Sunday to make up for it.

I'm sorry this letter isn't longer; I wish I had the time to write more to you. For now, I shall simply finish this letter with the most important thing of all:

I love you,

Enjolras xx

*. . .*

Éponine sighed, folding the letter and pushing it to the side; it was not the first of its kind that she received. This was the third time in three weeks that Enjolras had arrived home late. A fortnight later, an almost identical letter followed, this time stating that Enjolras wouldn't be back until early on Sunday morning and would leave the same day. Éponine began to wonder what it was she wanted to change; she knew, deep down, that she wanted the cause to succeed, and, for that, Enjolras had to work away for a while. However, she also knew that she wanted the best for her and her children, which was only achievable with Enjolras by her side.

Knowing this, the next letter she wrote was longer as she desperately tried to find some kind of comfort in his return letter.

October 6th 1834

Dear Enjolras,

I know it has only been a day since I last saw you, but I continuously find myself at a loss without you by my side. As much as I hate to admit it, I miss your infuriating insistence on keeping everything in its place. I found one of Elyse's socks under the sofa on Tuesday, and searched for hours looking for Evette's toy rabbit (it was at the back of a drawer in their bedroom).

Not only that, but it's far more lonely than I ever imagined it would be sleeping alone in our bed each night. I'm always counting down the hours until you should be coming home, and it's always far too long away.

For now, I can think of little else to say, except that I love you and I can't wait to have you back with me, if only for a short while.

The twins say that they miss you lots and that they'd like you to tuck them in and tell them a story when you come home at the weekend.

I'll see you soon and love you more than I can say,

Your Éponine xx

P.S. The Amis miss their leader and are anxious for your return. Perhaps you could spare a letter to Combeferre at some point? You know how much he enjoys writing back.

October 8th 1834

My dearest Éponine,

I, too, look forward for this weekend; I fear my visits will become fewer still as time goes on. My workload seems to increase by the day, always relentless and forever making me regretful of the time I'm missing with you, the twins and all of the Amis.

I will be coming home on Friday and I don't plan to return to my apartment until Monday morning; it has been far too long since we had some quality time together and I want to make the most of it.

I miss you more and more every day, and I keep thinking that maybe my moving away wasn't such a good idea. I feel awful going to bed each night without tucking the twins in, and it's a terrible thought that I'm leaving you alone each night with the girls... what if something happens? I could never forgive myself if it did.

I long to be home with you and our little girls, and I hope that the week will simply fly by so that I can be with you once more.

Love,

Your Enjolras xx

*. . .*

True to his word, Enjolras spent that entire weekend at home and, for a while, Éponine was coping better with their separation. However, as time went on, the situation worsened still.

October 16th 1834

My Athena,

I'm afraid I won't be able to make it back this week; I have suddenly been swamped by an endless workload that will occupy all of my free time. I wish I could be at home with you, but Moreau has given me a deadline, and I daren't risk the progress we have made by being late.

Please tell Evette and Elyse how truly sorry I am. I love you all so very much and I will see you at the weekend.

Love,

Enjolras xx

October 18th 1834

Dearest Apollo,

Never before have I wanted you by my side more than now. Each day passes longer than the one before without you here with me. The girls miss their Papa and constantly pester me to ask when you will be home. It hurts me to not have an answer for them.

I feel like something isn't right; call it being paranoid, call it instinctual worry, but something isn't the same. I'm struggling to cope without you.

Your next visit cannot come fast enough.

Until then, my love,

Éponine xx

*. . .*

As time went on their letters became less frequent and shorter in length. When Éponine received a letter from Enjolras, she could predict what it would say before she opened it: that he would either be late home, or wouldn't be coming at all.

By November, she couldn't even find the will to return those letters; the ones where her husband left her to break the news to the twins that Papa wouldn't be home again that week. She knew that this was probably hurting Enjolras' feelings, but the fact that he wasn't there to help her through the situation only made her angrier.

She certainly hadn't been lying when she said that something felt wrong; days after sending that letter, Éponine's worrying was proved right.

Gavroche ran up the stairs, followed by a dramatically slower Joly, who had been charged with dropping the little boy off at Éponine's apartment.

Gavroche burst into the flat in his usual fashion: without knocking and making a ridiculous amount of noise. The apartment was otherwise silent, and Gavroche subconsciously remembered that Cosette and Marius had taken the twins out for the day.

What he didn't expect to see when he walked around to the kitchen was Éponine passed out on the floor.

"'Ponine?" he said worriedly, shaking her shoulder, "'Ponine, are you alright? Éponine? Éponine!" as his sister stirred slightly, Gavroche ran out of the room, finding Joly just reaching the top of the stairs.

"Whatever possessed Enjolras to have an apartment on the second floor?" he muttered.

"Joly, quick!" Gavroche said desperately, "It's 'Ponine! I think she fainted. She was just on the floor and..." he trailed off, slightly out of breath as Joly quickened his pace.

"Where?" he asked.

"Kitchen," Gavroche replied immediately, "She was waking up a second ago, when I was calling her name."

Joly found Éponine sitting up against a cupboard door, frowning, "What happened?" she asked, confused.

"You tell me," he replied, smiling slightly, "Gavroche said you might have fainted?"

"Maybe," Éponine shrugged, "It's a bit of a blur to be honest."

"Do you feel alright?" Joly asked, "You do look quite pale..."

"I'm fine, Joly," she replied, smiling slightly as he helped her stand up, "I'm just tired, I suppose. What with Enjolras not being here, the twins aren't sleeping very well." She led him to the door, "Thanks for bringing Gavroche over."

"My pleasure," he replied, "Are you sure you're alright? You really don't look very well." Éponine rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine," she told him, "Honestly, Joly, you do wor-" she stopped suddenly, her hand flying to her mouth, barely reaching the flower pot by the door before throwing up.

"I'm fine, she says," Joly muttered, rushing to Éponine's said, "You worry too much, she says. Honestly, one day people are going to actually listen to me. I'm the doctor around here!"

"Joly?" Gavroche was frowning by the sofa, looking disgustedly at the contents of Éponine's stomach that were now residing in the flower pot, "You're talking to yourself again."

A month later, the situation was no better; Enjolras was either late, or he didn't turn up for visits at all, and the letters between him and Éponine were so short they may as well not have written them at all. Éponine was starting to feel as if the 'I love you' that Enjolras wrote at the end of each letter meant nothing at all. Enjolras didn't have any time to think of anything that wasn't work or sleep.

Unfortunately for the two, things had to get worse before they got better.