A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I am sorry for the heartbreak that was last chapter, and will continue in this.
Chapter 35: Non-Negotiable
The cloying scent of orchids lends an oppressive weight to the early afternoon heat in the chapel, giving rise to a queasiness that Eponine is rather unused to. 'How did Mother Asuncion know so many people?' she wonders as she looks at all the floral arrangements crowded around the nun's casket. The ribbons on the wreaths and garlands are embossed with names from various religious orders, foundations, schools, and even a few government personages. Even now some of these distinguished mourners are in the crowd filling up the chapel, extending their sympathies to the nuns in Mother Asuncion's congregation as well as to Cecily and some of the girls from the halfway house.
A distinguished looking gentleman walks up to the pew where Eponine is seated. "Doctor, I heard you used to work closely with Mother Asuncion?" he greets, not hiding the surprise in his tone.
"Yes, and then some," Eponine replies. She looks to where Tess is listlessly sitting with some friends, clearly unheeding of a lady's attempts at commiserating with them. Nearby, Cecily shifts uncomfortably in a wheelchair. 'There is nothing right that can be said here,' she thinks as she shifts in her seat in an attempt to get comfortable.
The gentleman clucks his tongue as he glances at the teenagers. "Mother Asuncion definitely kept them from going a bad way. Can't hope for much better now," he mutters before walking off to meet another guest just arriving to the chapel.
Eponine shakes her head, more so when she sees some men bring in another wreath decked out with a white ribbon bearing the words: 'Condolences from the Fouche Firm and Partners'. For a moment she thinks of calling someone to move the wreath away, but that is before she catches sight of a short, broad-shouldered nun approaching her, having just ended a conversation with Cecily. This nun smiles warmly at Eponine and extends a hand. "I'm Mother Natividad, the prioress of the Visitation Convent. Judith-I mean, Mother Asuncion, spoke highly of you, Eponine."
"Thank you, I suppose," Eponine says awkwardly. "She was very kind to me while I was in her care, and she was the same with all the girls."
The nun smiles as she takes a seat. "She prayed for your dreams and plans. When she heard that you finally became a doctor, she said that it was an answered prayer." She clasps Eponine's hand. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did for her, and the girls."
'It still wasn't enough,' Eponine thinks, but she manages a nod. "Who will step in for her now?"
"That is still under deliberation with our local chapter," Mother Natividad replies kindly. She puts a hand on Eponine's midsection. "So how far are you along?"
"Seven months," Eponine says, all the while fighting to keep a straight face.
"A boy or a girl?"
"A boy."
Mother Natividad nods. "I hope he takes after you-oh excuse me, there is Judith's family. I'll catch up with you later," she says hurriedly before getting up to head to the chapel door.
Eponine watches for a moment as Mother Natividad greets a drawn and tired looking woman leaning on the arm of a middle-aged man. 'Her mother and a brother,' she decides before getting up to also slip out a side entrance leading to the chapel garden. Once there she sits down on a small bench and surveys the index cards which she's kept hidden in the pocket of her black blazer. 'I don't know if I can do this.'
After a few moments she hears the side entrance door open and she looks up to see Enjolras also making his way to the bench. Like her he is also dressed all in black, but somehow still manages to look sharp even in this sweltering afternoon. "Got a bit stuffy in there?" she asks wryly.
"That, among other things," he replies as he sits next to her and slips an arm around her shoulders. "You'll do fine with the eulogy. It's not too sentimental."
"What is one even supposed to say in a funeral?" She swallows hard as she meets his calm gaze. "I haven't been to many funerals. I mean, it's odd since I see death all the time, just not like this. Most doctors don't get to actually bury the people they lose. I don't know now. I just don't."
"She wasn't just a patient to you," Enjolras reminds her. "You can speak of that."
Eponine takes a deep breath and nods. "Your mentor, Myriel...he's gone too now, isn't he? What happened then?"
"He had cancer. He had time to prepare," Enjolras replies. "The church was full-it was a cathedral, actually, and it was standing room only. That was how people turned out to honor him. It was a Catholic funeral, much like this since he was actually in a tertiary order. He had vows but he lived in the world as a teacher. Different family members gave eulogies during his wake, but on the actual necrological rites, that fell to one of the people in his parish, someone who knew him solely for his kindness. You and I know him."
"Who?"
"M. Fauchelevent."
Eponine's jaw drops at this revelation. "How?"
"They met many, many years ago," Enjolras explains. "Were it not for Charles Myriel, M. Fauchelevent would have gone a different way, without Fantine and Cosette."
"You would not be here either," Eponine concurs as she squeezes Enjolras' hand. "Now if only I could always be as calm as you!"
"There is such a thing as the good sort of nervousness. Anticipation," Enjolras points out even as the chapel bells ring, signalling the beginning of the Mass. They manage to find seats near Tess and Cecily as the choir of nuns starts with the simple strains of the entrance hymn: 'The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want. He leads me to green pastures; with quiet waters He refreshes my soul."
'Mother Asuncion always used to pray that, every night,' Eponine recalls as she shuts her eyes, willing herself to banish the memories of that last bloody day in the ICU. 'Candles that smelled of vanilla, polynomials, new brooms, and a rosary of rose petals-she was all of those.'
Towards the end of the service, the presider signals for Eponine to read her eulogy. Eponine feels a strong kick in her middle as she gets to her feet, and she is sure that everyone is watching as she instinctively touches her belly. 'Like they expect I'm going to pop at any moment,' she gripes silently as she ambles to the lectern. She discreetly sets the cards down and grips the edge of the podium before clearing her throat. "Good afternoon everyone. My name is Eponine Thenardier-Enjolras, and like many others such as the Garcia family and the sisters of the Visitation Convent, I'd like to honor a wonderful lady who I and so many others knew as Mother Asuncion."
She looks up now from the podium to take in the sight of the cramped chapel. Of course the front pews are all occupied by Mother Asuncion's own relatives, as well as dozens of nuns in purple habits and white wimples; some of them are bowing if only to hide their weeping. To one side are Cecily and the girls from the halfway house. Yet all the way to the back of the chapel are men and women from all walks of life, people who otherwise would not have a reason to come together. Eponine feels her throat go dry but all the same she takes a deep breath before continuing. "I was fifteen years old when Mother Asuncion took me in at the halfway house, Saint Maria Goretti Home for Girls. She took me in, and she'd be the first person to say I drove her up the wall. She always had something to say about everything-whether we girls were simply hiding our homework instead of actually finishing it, if we were playing with her scented candle collection again, or if we were leaving our pillows in our beds when we were actually still someplace up the street."
She pauses as laughter ripples across the chapel, all the while fighting to keep from swiping at her eyes. "Most of all, she always had something to say about not giving up-she used to say that all of us could walk out or simply sit in a corner, but she for one wasn't going to give up till we started moving. I don't think that concept was ever really in her vocabulary. It wasn't easy for a teenager to digest or appreciate, but the lesson somehow stayed. I for one did not quite understand just how, until many years later when I returned to the halfway house-this time hoping to learn from her. By this time I was already a doctor, and learning how to aid young people who'd been in crisis, like myself and so many others. I thought I would not find anyone to help me, but there she was fifteen years later, still in charge at the halfway house, still known as Mother to the girls as well as her congregation. Most other people would have taken such a span of time to pick up and move elsewhere, after so many years of dealing with all the challenges of raising and saving young people. It was more than just being constant, or being strong, or even trying to make a difference. She believed in something good, looked for it even in difficult people, and if she really had to, she'd make it happen in one way or another. I'm thankful that she saw this too in me, and even if I can't tell her personally now, it certainly mattered. I'll never forget that, and nor will most of us here." The words seem thick now, and it's another moment before she can find her breath again. "She'll never be forgotten. Thank you everyone."
For a few moments the chapel is silent, and it is only as Eponine returns to her seat that she hears the applause and murmuring. The rest of the rites are solemn, until Mother Asuncion's casket is carried out, accompanied only by the nuns, to be interred in a nearby plot belonging to the congregation. Eponine looks to see Cecily wheeling herself over to the pew. "Wait, let me-"
Cecily holds up a hand. "I'm fine. I just wanted to say thank you, for helping Mother Asuncion, and even with helping me temporarily place the girls. It's more than what you were expected to do."
Eponine sighs deeply. "So the halfway house is temporarily closed."
"For repairs, but that might be indefinite, unless someone steps up soon. That's the convent's call," Cecily replies bitterly. She looks to where Tess is hanging back from talking to her former roommates. "How is she holding up?"
"She's been quiet, especially compared to the other girls," Eponine says. 'Some would say it's not holding up at all,' she thinks, but there is no need to give voice to the worry in Cecily's countenance. "Maybe all she needs is some time."
"Not too much time," Cecily reminds her. "I'll contact you if I get news, especially from the nuns."
"We'll also contact you about the investigation," Enjolras chimes in. "Thank you too, Cecily."
In the meantime Eponine notices Tess walking up and running her hands through her hair. "Can we get out of here now, Doc?" the teenager asks.
"About time we did," Eponine concurs, suddenly feeling so exhausted. 'You haven't had much time to sit down in three days,' she reminds herself throughout the car ride home. Unsurprisingly there hasn't been much time to cry either.
As soon as they arrive home, Tess flees upstairs to the guest room, slamming the door hard. 'So much for asking her a bit,' Eponine notes as she sits down on the living room sofa. She cringes as she glances at the clock; it's not even four in the afternoon and already she feels exhaustion kicking in. "I'll lie down for a bit," she tells Enjolras, who is just taking off his shoes. "Wake me up in an hour. Then I can get started on dinner."
"Courfeyrac is dropping by; we'll be discussing how we'll question Garbe tomorrow," Enjolras informs her. "We're probably better off ordering in, even if it's just pizza."
"For you boys, pizza is always a solution," she quips as she ruffles his hair. All the same she's not about to complain too much if Enjolras wants to take some work off her hands just for today. "You need to rest too, Auguste."
"In a little while," he promises before taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. "You were so strong today."
"Not like there's anything else that I can do in this mess," she says wryly as she begins to loosen his tie. "Thank you for being there today. I know you weren't close to Mother Asuncion, but she liked you very much too."
He nods before moving so that she can snuggle up next to him. "Go to sleep."
She nods before kissing his cheek and then curling up next to him, such that her back is to his chest. It only seems like a few moments have passed before she opens her eyes again to the sound of someone being violently sick in the second floor bathroom. She glances down at Enjolras, who is still dozing on the sofa, before deftly disentangling herself from his arms and then heading upstairs. "Tess!" she calls as she knocks on the bathroom door, only to find it locked. This prompts her to quickly search her dressing table for a hairpin with which to pick the lock, by which time the retching has dwindled into dry heaving.
"Go away Doc," Tess groans as soon as Eponine gets the door open. "Leave me alone."
"Not like this," Eponine mutters, seeing how Tess is hunched over the toilet. The reek of alcohol is overpowering, forcing her to leave the door ajar. "How much have you had?"
Tess' eyes are bloodshot and bleary as she looks up. "It should have been me. The other girls said so. I stayed away and people still got hurt."
"Oh Tess, no," Eponine insists as she sits next to the girl. "They didn't know the entire story, of the chase and everything."
Tess shakes her head. "Johannes is dead. Mother Asuncion too. They were good people, better than me. It's not fair." She sniffles and wipes her now runny nose. "Why them?"
It's a question that Eponine knows better than to give an answer to, more so when Tess starts crying again. After a few moments she hears Enjolras walking up to the bathroom. "Auguste, we need some water here," she whispers furtively as she opens the bathroom door wider.
Enjolras raises an eyebrow. "I can't believe she's doing this. It is not a good way of grieving."
"She doesn't need to hear that now," Eponine counters.
"He's right. I'm disgusting. I'm horrible-"Tess begins.
"Now I never said those things," Enjolras answers firmly. It's clear he's fighting to keep a straight face as he goes to help Eponine pull Tess to her feet. "Don't dishonour Mother Asuncion's memory like this."
"Auguste-" Eponine warns but much to her surprise the words have Tess opening her eyes wider and shaking her head, as if trying to will herself into sobriety. "Take it easy."
"He's right about that too," Tess mutters before making her way to the bathroom sink and splashing water over her face. "I never saw her do this when we'd lose someone."
"There are vows she had to follow," Eponine reminds her.
"Doc, they don't cover Communion wine." Tess says with a smirk before she closes the toilet lid and sits down. "She'd pray, and I think someone out there heard her, mostly."
"I'm sure." Eponine gets a washcloth and drenches it. "In the meantime we'd better get you cleaned up and hydrated."
"Can't I just sleep?"
"That's how you'll end up miserable in the morning."
The prospect of a hangover has Tess frowning, as well as acceding to Eponine's attempts to wash her face, as well as to Enjolras' offer of several glasses of water. It takes their combined efforts to walk Tess down the hall to the guest room, where she falls asleep almost immediately. Eponine sighs as she covers Tess with a blanket. "You do know that there will come a time when Ian will also do something like this," she remarks.
"Under less dire circumstances, and perhaps with less intoxication involved," Enjolras deadpans.
Eponine rolls her eyes knowingly. "More likely having to explain to some teacher or part-time employer about why he won't take trouble sitting down."
"I imagine you'll enjoy that greatly too."
"Only if it doesn't involve my having to bandage him up or pick him up from an emergency room."
"Perish the thought," Enjolras says over the doorbell's suddenly ringing downstairs. "That must be Courfeyrac now."
"You boys decide on the pizza. I'll watch Tess for a bit, just to make sure she won't be sick again," Eponine volunteers. 'Someday she'll be old enough to do more than simply want to forget,' she decides as she sits by the girl's bed for a few minutes. She still remembers all too well how it felt to demand nepenthe and the frustration with the fragility of such relief. 'Another thing that should have gone a little differently for Tess,' she thinks as she finally heads downstairs.
As she quietly walks towards the sound of conversation in the kitchen, she almost laughs on realizing that Combeferre has also dropped in. 'Less work then, but everything serious,' she notes silently. It is not often nowadays that Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac get to talk like this, and so she hangs back a little by the kitchen doorway just to listen.
"As arrogant as it may sound, a security detail or a semblance of it would be a good idea," Courfeyrac says. "We can't take any chances/"
"Just as you said, it's arrogant, and merely a show of intimidation," Enjolras retorts.
"So is keeping a gun in the house."
"Courfeyrac, I hope you're joking," Combeferre warns.
"There is a legal way to acquire one. Enjolras doesn't have to use the firearm either," Courfeyrac argues.
"I thought that you of all people would be more cautious about that. You have a child in residence," Combeferre points out. "I've seen too many gunshot wounds to even agree to the idea."
"Alright, but the thing is we're usually not the ones doing the shooting," Courfeyrac says after a few moments. "That changes everything."
"Yes, except the legitimate ways to deal with such provocation," Enjolras answers.
"With a situation so volatile, you can't afford to be careless," Combeferre's voice says evenly. "Haven't you at least considered sending Eponine to a safer situation, temporarily?"
"Its impracticality alone precludes it," Enjolras replies. "She would never agree to lying low or leaving the city till this investigation is over."
"Fouche knows she's linked to your investigation," Combeferre insists. "He'll target her first."
Eponine rolls her eyes at this truism. 'He means well, sometimes too well,' she thinks as she finally steps into the doorway. "I suppose he also knows that I am more than just collateral damage in this affair."
Combeferre pales noticeably while Courfeyrac barely hides a snort. "How long have you been listening?"
"You can guess," Eponine says nonchalantly as she takes a seat near the kitchen counter. "Courf, I think another important question would be if my sister would approve too. She's not fond of guns."
"That is another reason that our house is rigged with alarms and not with ballistics," Courfeyrac reassures his sister-in-law.
Combeferre sighs as he looks to Enjolras, who is listening with barely disguised amusement. "That is another good idea. A compromise."
Enjolras nods before finally meeting Eponine's eyes. "Combeferre's points are valid though. You know of the threat that Garbe and his companions made when they burgled the law office."
"I suppose it will only be a threat, especially since Garbe is in prison," Eponine points out. She puts her hands on the countertop. "I'm not collateral damage, and I'm certainly not a bargaining chip. Nor is Ian. Fouche doesn't understand that."
"That is true," Enjolras says seriously. "You have been with this investigation from the very beginning."
Eponine nods, seeing now the resolve in her partner's eyes. 'He won't shield me, but he'll fight for me if he must,' she realizes. It is a thought that is both heartening and terrifying, yet not as much as the important question that still hangs in the air. "If, when Fouche meets you again, what will you do if he makes a threat?"
"The only thing that is right to do then," Enjolras replies. "It is an offense, both legal and moral, and I am not going to let that go unaddressed."