A/N: What happens when Les Amis are trapped in Combeferre's apartment. Amidst the war raging on them from the outside, inside the walls conversations and unlikely alliances form. We have some Cosette/Eponine moments too. I've always thought that they were two sides of the same coin.
Constructive criticism and reviews welcome
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters from Les Miserables, but I do like to take them out for a spin once in a while to play. I've played with timelines from both the story by the marvellous Victor Hugo, and the actual accounts of the Occupy movement. Be kind, it's about reader enjoyment after all. Thanks for reading!
Songs listened to:
'Anytime You Need a Friend' by Mariah Carey
If you're lonely
And need a friend
And troubles seem like
They never end
Just remember
To keep the faith
And love will be there
To light the way
Anytime you need a friend
I will be here
You'll never be alone again
So don't you fear
Even if you're miles away
I'm by your side
So don't you ever be lonely
Love will make it alright
When the shadows are closing in
And your spirit diminishing
Just remember
You're not alone
And love will be there
To guide you home
- 'Anytime You Need a Friend', Mariah Carey
Eponine was waiting at the bottom of Combeferre's apartment building, tapping her foot impatiently. After putting in a long day of work and catching up with Gavroche, she was tired but had agreed to come over after receiving a call from Enjolras earlier.
"Would you mind? We could all use some of your… we all need your….you", he'd stumbled.
"Okay, I'll come, "she'd said. "I'm not sure how I can help though."
"Can you stop by the apartment first and bring some clothes for both of us – for the funeral as well?"
"We're staying there? How bad are they? Never mind. The fact you're asking is enough."
She heard him exhale on the other end of the line. "I appreciate it. See you soon."
"You owe me."
"I'm good with that."
After being buzzed in by Feuilly, Eponine arrived at Combeferre's flat to find a forlorn group awaiting her. Strewn about on the sofas and beanbags were the people together known as Les Amis. Cosette, Bossuet and Musichetta were also there but Eponine had come to group them all together.
The depression in the apartment hung heavy, like humidity on a rainy summer day. She could almost smell it. Looking around the flat her eyes sought out Enjolras, finding him finally at his retreat on the balcony.
Before she could speak with him, she came to the notice of the other occupants. "'Ponine!" yelled Jehan from his place on the lounge. He came over to greet her, lunging at her and hugging her like he may never let her go. She hugged him in return and when he pulled back she could see his usual tenderness and openheartedness had been replaced by something desperate and sad.
"Hey J", she said. She touched his arm tenderly. "How are you doing?"
"I'm…I'm alright. Better now you're here", he replied before averting his eyes.
"Hey Ponine", "Eponine!", came cries from around the apartment. If she hadn't known them and the state they were in, she may have been a little alarmed.
Taking Enjolras' backpack from her shoulders and placing the brown paper shopping bags on the counter, she looked around. The big screen television was on, there were books strewn about the place. To an unfamiliar eye, the group might look as they were before. But Eponine could easily see their usual lack of verve was missing. The fire that lit their revolutionary spirits had been dampened. She hoped with everything in her that it was not permanent.
"Did you see the afternoon papers, 'Ponine?", asked Joly from across the room as she started to unload the bags.
"No, Joly. I've been avoiding them. You should too. All of you should", she replied as Enjolras stepped back into the room.
"There's been no change. In fact, the stories are growing worse. There's an article about you 'Ponine. The New York Post again – Page 6. Linking you to your father and his activities", he said, absentmindedly scratching at a non-existent itch.
"Joly, I don't see how showing this to her will help any of us," scolded Musichetta.
"She's going to see if eventually, 'Chetta. Better from a friend."
"Let me see it", she said, reaching out a hand to take the paper from him. She scanned it, before handing it back to him. "Well, it's bullshit. None of this is news. But the linking of all our stories together is a different angle. I'm not ashamed of my past. It is not my shame." She read the article again more carefully and froze.
"You have no reason to be ashamed, Eponine", said Enjolras reassuringly. "Eponine what is it?"
"Listen to this. I'll read it to you. Ms Thenardier who now goes by the surname Jondrette is the daughter of infamous crime boss Thenardier who now sits in an upstate maximum security prison, waiting out his days in solitary confinement. According to sources close to the family, among many illicit dealings the family was involved in, prostitution was one of the chief amongst them. The young Thenardier ran away from home at age fifteen. Whether or not she used the families experience in the skin trade to guarantee her survival on the uncaring streets of New York is anyone's guess."
Eponine's face was flushed with both embarrassment and anger.
Enjolras was fuming. "It's their guess?! Of all the salacious, slanderous pieces of what they call journalism, I –"
Eponine put up her hand. "Wait – there's more. The family of her partner, Enjolras, the leader of underground revolutionary band Les Amis, are sure to be unamused by the revelations of Ms Jondrette's past. With a history writ deep in New York's high society, the family finds itself yet again embroiled in the affairs of its wayward son and heir to the family fortune."
"They forgot the part where Enjolras was disinherited save for the monthly stipend.", said Marius, shaking his head. "Or that he doesn't actually care what his family think of Occupy or Les Amis."
"I care about this." He said, flicking a hand in the direction of the newspaper.
"You should demand a retraction, Eponine." said Cosette quietly.
"I can't think about it now. We all have other things to worry about."
"I'll call and do it for you", replied Cosette. "No-one should disparage you in such a manner. It's character assassination."
Eponine looked over to her in surprise. "If you want to…"
After dinner, the group had dispersed to different corners of the apartment. Trapped in the space with each other, they went looking for different points of view. And Eponine found herself sitting awkwardly on the two seater with Cosette who was busy making notes in her diary when her cell phone rang.
"Hello", she said. "Yes this is Cosette Fauchelevant speaking", she continued.
Cosette listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the line as Eponine looked on discreetly. After five minutes she spoke again. "Yes, thank you. I understand. Thank you for calling."
She put her cell phone down on the table before clearing her throat. "I have some news," she said, standing up. "That was the coroner's office. They have reached a finding in Papa's death, and they're releasing the body tonight to the funeral parlour."
"The finding was a heart attack as suspected?" asked Joly.
"No. The coroner says he died of asphyxiation…"
"Asphyxiation? He wasn't strangled though… and there was no gas… I'm sorry Cosette. What does that mean?" asked Bahorel, as they gathered around.
"They say his lungs collapsed. They thought at first he might have had an allergic reaction to something, but he had none of the usual signs of it. No swelling of the tongue, no hives…" she tried to continue but her voice broke.
"It's alright Cosette, you don't have to go on any further", said Marius.
"They're sending over a full copy of the report. I'd like Joly to have a look at it. The funeral is tomorrow, as planned", she said, retreating back to the lounge.
On the other side of the room, Combeferre and Enjolras were seated on the bar stools in the kitchen, deep in conversation.
"Have you been able to find out more on Aiden?" Enjolras asked.
"They've just transferred him under guard to a psych institution, north of Austin."
"Under what reasoning?"
"I don't know – they wouldn't disclose it to me. He's under twenty-four seven police guard".
"How convenient", sneered Enjolras in disgust. "Locked away where no-one can get the true story from him. While day and night he's slandered in the press, along with us. So we've got nothing. Not one answer. On either Valjean or Aiden. We can't defend ourselves from phantoms. And we're getting slammed in the media. The Washington Post is carrying it now."
Combeferre put his hand the Chief's shoulder. "I think we need to focus on the funeral for now and everything else after that."
Enjolras sighed deeply but nodded silently in agreement and looked around the apartment for Eponine, finding her in conversation with a most unexpected companion.
Cosette and Eponine had once again found themselves gravitating towards each other. Perhaps because of the overwhelming need to escape from the testosterone in the flat or the need to speak so many things unspoken, neither knew.
Looking over nervously to Eponine, Cosette quietly closed her diary and placed it by her side.
"Do you think I could ask a favour of you?"
Eponine looked up, the surprise not hidden on her face. "Of course."
Quietly, so quietly Eponine could barely hear her, Cosette made her request. "Could you help me with the funeral? I need to find a dress. And maybe you could help me with my hair and makeup."
"Me?"
"I know it sounds awful but at the funeral for the boys you looked so…right. I want to pay respects to Papa. I want to look how I'm supposed to."
Eponine found herself swallowing hard, looking into the girl's big blue eyes that seemed as if any moment a river of tears might rush over them. "It would be a great honour to help you. Its late night shopping tonight. We'll go in a minute, if you like. The guys can look after themselves." Eponine moved to stand up but Cosette grasped her hand, indicating to her to sit down once more.
"Eponine, there's something I want to say… I feel -I feel like if you let me, you could be like the sister I never had."
"I have a sister." Eponine shot back, then immediately regretted her tone.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean – "
"No, it's alright, I'm sorry. Sitting here talking with you just reminded me of what I've lost". She reached out to Cosette's hand. "What we've all lost".
Cosette frowned. "Eponine do you think I made a mistake in going ahead with Papa's funeral tomorrow? It's such short notice. What if nobody comes?"
Eponine squeezed her hand. "From my heart I can tell you if Jean had even one-hundredth of the impact he had on me, on others? We won't have room for them all – no matter the late notice."
Cosette smiled at the contact. "I've misunderstood you Cosette," continued Eponine.
The blonde shook her head, her mane falling about her shoulders. "No, I think we misunderstood each other. Eponine, you mustn't listen to what the newspapers are saying. They don't know you. They don't know your heart".
Eponine felt the tears well up in her eyes. "Thank you, Cosette. You know, I used to think you were weak. But now I see that you have Valjean's strength, and from what he told me – your mother's."
Cosette squeezed Eponine's hand tightly. "You know, we might have been friends as children, you and I. Our circumstances are not so far removed from each other as you think."
Eponine looked at her. "We can be friends now."
"I'd like that."
"I'd like that too."
The sun had started its descent. The grey shadows grew longer as the moon made its appearance even before the flaming star had completed its disappearing act for the day.
Enjolras was out there once again on the balcony. As she walked over to the sliding door, Eponine wondered why it was he felt the need to retreat there so often. If isolation and separateness were the price paid for leadership. As he turned to her, the last of the sun's rays hit the blue of his irises, making them icy and afire all at once. There was something in them she hadn't seen before. A lack of surety, a faintly slipping confidence. It frightened her, down to her core. For who else among them could claim the qualities to lead them out of this if not Enjolras?
He smiled thinly at her she approached him. "I'm glad you came. They need you."
"And you?"
"You know I do."
She took a moment to caress his face with her eyes, searching his for answers. "Why are you out here? "she asked him tenderly.
He leaned his elbows back down on the edge of the balcony, taking in the view below before turning back to her. "I used to feel like I could feel the pulse of the city in my blood, pumping through me…driving me on, encouraging me to be bold. Looking out onto it, I could feel that anything was possible."
"And now?
"I feel like it's turning against us. Like our world is shrinking. Like a harsh filter on our world has been applied to all of us. And I feel like it's a war on all fronts. I used to be able to direct my anger at one thing: injustice, inequality. Now my anger is at so many things; the ravaging of your reputation in the press, the obvious gagging of Aiden in Texas, the lack of answers in Valjean's death, the war on Occupy. How can I fight against injustice when all the energy I have is being put towards our very survival?"
"You said yourself this is what they want."
"Yes, but I don't know who they are. I feel neutered. We have no visible enemies to fight." He looked over to Eponine, realising she had her satchel strapped around her.
"Are you going out?" he asked, frowning.
"Cosette needs some help for the funeral," she replied.
"Do you think it's wise to go out alone, with all that's happening?"
"She's burying her father tomorrow Enjolras. As much as all the rest of it is terrible too, tomorrow is Cosette's time. She wants to do this right – and I want to help her. I can look after both of us."
"You're a good person," he said, pulling her over to him and pressing his lips into her hair. "I hope you know that."
"Apparently everyone is trying to reinforce that tonight," she said.
"Where we begin in life, is not as important as how we make our way through it," he said hugging her fiercely to his chest. "You are the most tenacious, sweetest, most complex person I've ever met. And I could kill those editors for publishing that rubbish about you."
"I can take it," she replied stubbornly.
"I don't want you to have to take it. None of us should have to just take it"
"Save your anger. Turn it into positive energy. We're going to need it."
He grasped her hands, holding them tightly in his. He looked out for a moment to his city, the city that was turning on them, and back to Eponine ; his revelation.
"One day, when all of this is over, I'm going to tell you how much you really mean to me. And I hope I get the words right on that day, because I love you. I love you in all your fierce glory, and your toughness, and your sweetness. I love how you're here for everyone, even though you have your own battles. And I love that no matter how far apart we are, or if we argue – that I can feel your love burning in me, for me. On that day I'll tell you that I don't know how you got into my heart, but that I thank God you did."
She looked up at him then gently traced a line down his face, letting a stray strand of his hair play through her fingers. "I don't know how you're going to top that," she said softly, brushing her lips against his. He kissed her back fiercely, his hand on the back of her neck. If a kiss could convey emotions, Eponine felt every one of his before he finally let her go.
"I want you to be careful out there tonight, alright?"
Later that evening, as Eponine and Cosette made their way home from a successful shopping trip, the city that never sleeps went on with its existence around them.
Papers rang out the news that tomorrow a son of the city would be buried. In the darkest corners of the streets, homeless and desperate souls said a prayer for one of their own. A man who had risen through the classes, blind to them and any brick walls in his way, wishing only for equality. A man for whom the road had been roughest, but whose redemption - hard won and fought for - had inspired so many around him.
Tomorrow the city of New York would bury a son. A daughter would bury her father. A group of young men would bury their hero, a girl would bury her redeemer, and one among them would seek to find some strength and meaning in it all.
