The rumors, in their intensity, have reached even here.
Of course, here they are diluted down to whispers soft and insubstantial enough that it took hours to really get the beginnings of a picture of it, and are always punctuated by little comments of "how frightful!" (If she smiled to herself, then, it was easily dismissed as pre-wedding dreaminess.)
But even still, despite the frustration, the information gets through.
The Barricade is sunk, that is true, but that was not the end of it. No, it is said that shortly before the Sentinel came into the harbor, there was another – the strange, ghost-like ship called the Fantine that, if further rumors are to be believed, now bears the Amis.
It would be strange, how she seems to suddenly understand the day her father arrives at the estate, if Marius had not been so anxious to ensure that her father is satisfied with him.
(Cosette had repeated what he had told her, before, when she had still held some lingering worries about whether Monsieur Gillenormand really thought of her as a worthy choice, not that it would stop her – "of course he does. How could he not?" as if it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world – and she'd laughed then because he flushed so dark it overtook his freckles, and because his smile was as infectious as always.)
And, too, it made him wonder less at the reasons for her father's sudden reappearance, and accept the simple explanation that there is someone to take over his work for him, now; she tells Marius of the Amis, of course, but she will leave out the connection to her father until rumors have quieted down a little.
And it meant that she could have her wish, that Jean would be at her wedding.
("You look lovely," Marius murmured just before, a soft awe in his voice.
"You always say that," she had responded, twisting to gently loop her arms around his neck. "Sometimes I think you would believe me lovely in sackcloth," she teased.
"You would," came his reply, and it is the earnest note in his voice that gave her cheeks an extra tinge of pink.)
Now, her father is proud, beaming as he converses with Monsieur Gillenormand, but she can't help but feel the absence of one who is missing.
"I wish she could have come," she murmurs to her husband – the word brings with it a pleasant sensation of warmth and her smile brightens all the more – of only an hour as they dance (and he is a dreadful dancer, but somehow this only adds to her happiness, the way he takes to it).
"You can't invite a pirate to a wedding," he reminds, because even if all else now begin to know her as Julien Jondrette, accompanying the dread Amis, Éponine Thénardier would still have just as much trouble slipping in unnoticed. The smile that lit up his face from the moment she stood before him is still present, and his words are meant to be light, but she knows that Éponine is a dear friend to him, and he is missing her loss.
(He has always been easy to read, ever since the first time she had seen him, since they had seen each other, and he had stared so long he had walked into a tree.)
"I know," she says, and in that moment her gaze alights on a dress that is darkly green and roughly made and entirely ill-fitting, on the tangle of dark hair that was probably lovely when it was first arranged and of course Éponine cannot be bothered to keep it in place, and of course she wouldn't tell them she came until they spotted her themselves.
The girl wearing it has her hand on her hip and her mouth turned up into a smile in a way that seems to say 'what took you so long?' and Cosette's own smile turns mischievous and mirthful all at once.
"But I can invite a friend."
A/N: So there it is. No epic tale of romance, but an adventure all the same. It feels like the end of an era – one that's been grand, and so much fun, believe me. Thank you so, so much for every bit of wonderful, positive feedback I have gotten from you lovely people, and for taking the time to read.