Title: Catching Lightning
Summary: Éponine Thenardier didn't need help. But one night, she did. One stormy night, Enjolras receives a phone call from Éponine, never expecting how things would turn out.
Note:This is the first one-shot of many to come. This was really interesting for me to write so I really hope you like it, I tried to add my own touch to the characters without changing them too much. A huge thanks to my beta-reader Judybear236 who is still there supporting me, so thanks! Leave your opinions and thoughts about this so I can know if I should go on with this project. Now, let the story begin.
Everyone knew that she never asked for help. She hated pity, even when they tried to assure her countless times that it wasn't pity, but it was what friends do for each other. She hated charity. She was independent, strong, she didn't need anyone. She had gone throughout all her life without anyone, she had fought to get to where she was, she was brave and witty, stubborn and strong-willed. She didn't need help.
But this time, she did.
When his phone rang late that night, somehow he knew that something was wrong. She never called him that late at night. Christ, she didn't even call him, only when it was barely necessary. She was a strange woman, unique. There was something about her that had always made him curious, was it the way some days her eyes glowed? When others they were dull, dark and mysterious? Was it the way her smile seemed to lighten up all her face? Perhaps it was the way that with just a glare she could silence all the Amis. He wasn't sure, and sometimes, he would find himself spending more time daydreaming about her and with a shake of his head he would return his attention towards the book he was holding. He would tell himself that he couldn't find her beautiful. But deep inside of him, he knew that in a way, she was beautiful.
It had been almost a year since they had begun hanging out together as a group that Courfeyrac noticed for the first time the bruise hidden underneath her large sweater. He shouldn't have asked, because that had earned him a slap on the arm and a week of the cold shoulder on her part. Since that day everyone tried to remain silent whenever she showed up to the Café with a purplish mark on her shoulders, arms, and once, on the juncture between her neck and jaw. They would all exchange a worried look or a frown, but nothing more. They knew she hated pity. Enjolras had tried to ignore the constant feeling inside of his chest that he should do something, she couldn't continue enduring such such abuse, perhaps one day it wouldn't be just a bruise. But she was strong, and she was independent, so she didn't need his help.
But that night it was different. Her phone call interrupted him while he read some notes about the new case he would be working. He answered, confused that of all people, it was she who was calling him. When he picked up, he could hardly hear her whisper. Her voice was broken, drowned by the sound of thunder and rain. He frowned when he heard her voice shaking with what he thought was fear, but then he heard a sob and in a moment he was already in his car, driving full-speed to the location she had given him on the phone. The storm was powerful, the water hitting his car with a deafening sound that made it almost impossible for him to think. It was then when a flash of lightning illuminated the scene enough for him to see the car parked on the side of the deserted highway.
He stopped just behind her car. Taking his jacket off and leaving his lights on, he hopped out of it, the water soaking him to the bone instantly. As he blinked furiously trying to adjust his vision to the darkness, the torrent of water was causing his eyes to flutter close. He narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of the small figure sat on the bonnet of the car. The smell of wet earth and rain filled his senses as he tried to keep his eyes open.
"Éponine?" he called out, his voice drowned by an awful roll of thunder.
She didn't turn around. As he got closer he realized that she was sitting with her legs pulled close to her chest, her head resting on her knees as her damp hair cascaded all around her, creating a curtain that didn't allowed him to see her face properly. He reached the car, and the moment he put a hand over the cold surface, she moved her head slightly.
"Éponine?" he repeated, his tone softer.
"The engine is dead. I came out to check it and locked myself out" she said without looking up. Her voice was hoarse, and for a moment he thought she hadn't spoken at all.
He moved closer to where she was sitting, as if approaching a wounded animal. Éponine was like that, unpredictable, and just by listening to her voice, he knew that something really bad must have happened. With a hand he removed his wet curls from his eyes as he tried to catch a glimpse of her face.
"Let's get inside my car, you'll get sick if we stay here longer" he tried to persuade her.
For a moment he felt something akin to pain invade his chest. He had never seen Éponine like that, so shattered and wounded. After a moment, she straightened and one of her hands flew to her hair, removing it from her eyes slowly. It was then when he saw it. Her upper lip was split, a bruise already forming near her lip, as well as another on her right cheekbone and more on her wrist. Enjolras felt his jaw clench tightly, his hands turning into fists as the sight of her wounded body came into view. Knowing that she wouldn't probably have called him to hear a reprimand, he swallowed the anger that had bubbled inside him and reached the front of the car in long, careful strides.
She looked up, brown meeting blue. Her eyes were watery, a few tears running down her cheeks that could have been easily been mistaken by raindrops. But he knew better. The pain reflected in her eyes was nothing he had ever seen before, dark thoughts tormenting her as she captured her good lip between her teeth, trying to stop a sob that was threatening to escape. Suddenly he felt it; it was like a blow to his chest, which ran from his arms straight to the center of his chest. Crack. Something cracked inside of him, making his eyes widen with surprise.
"Please, take me away."
Slowly, he reached a hand towards her, hoping that she would take it. Tentatively, she took it. A jolt of electricity ran up his arms as he trapped her cold and small hand in his warm one, interlocking his fingers between hers. He helped her slide down the wet bonnet in the most tender way he could, holding her by the elbow as her legs faltered underneath her weight. Her eyes were shut, and if it weren't for the falling and rising of her chest, he would have thought that she was sleeping. A flash of lightning illuminated the highway and her grip on his hand tightened with surprise as her eyes fluttered open. As her hair flew around her like a halo, a thought struck Enjolras. If he didn't know better, she certainly could have been Eudora, Greek Goddess of rain. She was powerful, strong, beautiful. She was an enigmatic creature of the night for him. But not that night. She had been Eudora for far too long and now she was showing him her vulnerable side, something that thrilled and terrified him at the same time. By the way her hands were shaking, her eyes downcast, her lips trembling, he knew that he needed to take her out of there. He guided her towards the car, and opening the passenger's door, he helped her inside. He rushed towards his side of the car and jumped inside, hurrying to turn on the heat. As soon as warmth began emanating from the vents, Éponine's body began shaking slightly. Carefully, he placed his jacket over her shoulders, for which she thanked with a simple nod. The car came to life with a low buzz and in a moment he was driving back to his apartment.
Silence surrounded them, the rain hitting the windshield being the only thing that made the silence bearable. Every once in a while he stole glances in her direction, feeling anxious every time her eyes fluttered closed or when she touched her bloody lip with one shaky finger tentatively. Her head was resting against the window as she watched the city pass by.
"I like to cry in the rain" she murmured, her voice was still thick with pain "That way no one knows if I'm really crying"
They climbed the stairs towards his apartment slowly. She was clutching his jacket around her frame tightly trying to keep warm. He opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for her to walk in first. But she didn't move, instead, she motioned him to walk in first. He sighed and stepped inside, turning on a lamp beside his sofa. Enjolras turned around to speak but stopped in his tracks when he saw that Éponine was still standing at the threshold, an insecure expression written in her face.
"Aren't you going to come inside?" he asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
"I don't want to get your floor all wet" her voice was barely a whisper as she glanced down to the floor. He needed to lean closer to understand what she was saying "I know you don't like when your apartment gets messy"
And then he felt it again. Crack. Another blow straight to his chest which caused him to place hand over his chest to make sure everything was okay. Despite the current circumstances, he felt a smile tugging from the corner of his lips at her words.
"Ep, that's not what I meant, just-" He sighed and ran his fingers through his wet curls "Wait here"
What was going on inside of him? Why did he suddenly have the urge to take Éponine in his arms and hide her away from the world? She was different, probably the only female friend he had ever contact with, because, yeah, he considered her a friend, didn't he? After all, she was part of Les Amis. How many times had he spent listening to Marius's incessant talk about his girlfriend? How many nights had he ended up carrying a very intoxicated Grantaire to his place? How many times had he been the only one to listen to Joly about a new disease that he thought he had? How many times had he been there to pat Jehan's shoulder amiably after watching a romantic movie and the poet ended up crying? Yes, Éponine was his friend, so he could help her too.
He returned to the living room, not surprised when he realized that she was still standing in the threshold.
"Here, you can wear this" he offered her a towel and one of his shirts, the biggest he could find. She grabbed it carefully, looking up at him with a questioning gaze. Enjolras cleared his throat uncomfortably "You can use the bathroom to dry and change. I…uhm, I'll change in my bedroom"
With that he nodded stiffly and walked into his bedroom, closing the door swiftly behind him. Éponine remained frozen to the same spot even when he had walked out of the room, one hand clutching tightly the towel and shirt he had offered. After a moment, she walked in the direction of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She began the painful task of removing her clothes, beginning with her tattered jeans, the water they had absorbed making them heavier. As she stood in front of his mirror wearing nothing but her undergarments, she observed the bruise already forming on her stomach where her father had struck her.
With great care, she slipped his shirt over her head and gathering her wet clothes, walked out of the bathroom.
"Enjolras, where…" she stopped as she gasped in surprise. Enjolras stood in only his navy blue flannel pajama pants hanging loosely at his hips. His white shirt discarded on the bed. Eponine's eyes flew to her feet before Enjolras could look at her. She wanted to leave, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to look up nor move, in part caused by the burning sensation that shot through her neck as she jerked her head roughly to the ground.
At the sound of his name, he looked up, a dark blush coloring his cheeks at the sight of her. He found himself having to contain a small chuckle at the sight of her small, fragile body, drowning in his shirt. He cursed internally when he realized that the shirt just reached her mid-thigh, leaving miles of long, tanned legs to display. He swallowed hard and averted his eyes, putting on his white v-neck shirt rapidly.
"Where do I put these?" she asked quietly, showing him the pile of clothing she was holding.
"Leave them in the bathroom, I'll dry them out tomorrow"
She turned around and left the room, her footsteps almost inaudible. Enjolras walked out of his room a moment later, his eyes scanning the living room looking for Éponine. He caught sight of her, sitting on the sofa with her back to him. A wave of sympathy rushed through his body at the fragile image of the girl, not accustomed to seeing her in such a vulnerable state. He wasn't good at dealing with feelings and just…emotions in general. But that night there was something different going on.
Éponine was huddled on the couch, her legs propped underneath her as she absent-mindedly watched the flames dancing around the modest fireplace. She brushed her arms in an attempt to provide herself warmth. She heard the heavy steps of Enjolras approaching her, and as he neared her, she looked up to meet his fierce blue eyes. Éponine had always thought that Enjolras was attractive, not in the way that most of the Amis were, but something more. There was a certain impressive air in the way he carried himself, his sculpted jaw always high, that severe expression he always had, a frown always on his face. He was like a marble statue, waves of golden hair perfectly arranged over his face, straight nose which crinkled every time he frowned. But above that, his eyes were the most endearing feature about the man. Blue eyes which were capable of making someone recoil with fear, eyes that sometimes were stormy, others peaceful. There was something commanding about his voice that made everyone obey to his requests, his ability with words was one of the reasons why he was the leader of Les Amis. He was respected, admired, and sometimes feared. Because everyone knew that the marble man, the living Apollo, was also capable of being terrible. But not that night. That night it was different.
He inched closer and knelt in front of her, and it was only at that moment that she realized that he was holding a wet cloth in one hand and what looked like ointment on the other. His eyes were shinning with concern as his gaze traveled down to her split lip, the blood now dry.
"Let me just get that cut clean" he said. It wasn't a question, so she just nodded as he moved closer and pressed the material to her injured skin.
She hissed at the contact and shut her eyes tightly as he rubbed the cloth gently over her upper lip. Rain continued to fall outside, the drumming of the raindrops echoing around his apartment. Enjolras could feel her eyes on him, burning his skin with their intensity. He tensed slightly when he felt her lean into his touch, surprised by the moment of vulnerability she had shown. As soon as her lip was clean, he proceeded to spread some of the ointment Joly had once given him over the bruise that was forming on her cheekbone. He felt her go rigid at the soft pressure of his fingertips against her skin, but she relaxed instantly, her muscles going limp as he rubbed gently. He had never been so close to anyone before, let alone a woman, and the scent of vanilla emanating from her skin was definitely not helping him retain his composed façade.
"Joly gave me this ointment, he thought I might need it in case my muscles were sore. He says I'm always tense and that is causing my neck to go rigid"
Enjolras stood up and walked towards the kitchen, surprised by the instant cold that surrounded him the moment he left her side. Setting aside the cloth, he walked back into the living room and sat beside her, grabbing one of her wrists gently. She kept her eyes on him, startled as how a man that was able to show no emotion could be so…gentle.
Enjolras held her wrist gently as he rubbed some more ointment on the bruises that looked suspiciously like fingers. Silence surrounded them as he continued to apply some of the ointment on her forearm, his frown deepening with every passing minute. He was frustrated that she didn't talk. He thought that at least he deserved some kind of explanation. No one ended up bruised like this unless something bad had happened. Although he knew that Éponine was stubborn and tough, he still couldn't imagine someone harming her in such a manner that she ended up alone on a highway bruised and bleeding. He put the ointment on the table beside the sofa and turned to look at her, waiting for a sign that she was partially all right. But she didn't moved, didn't talked, nothing. So when she talked, barely a whisper, he had to inch closer to catch every word she had murmured.
"Am I a bad person?"
Enjolras felt it again, this time with more force. Crack. Her eyes met his, full of unshed tears, glowing with terror, fear, sadness, every single emotion he had never witnessed in her. She was always so strong-willed, witty, and independent. But now he felt that he was meeting a whole new face of Éponine, the real Éponine behind the tough façade. But before he could answer, tears were already rolling down her cheeks, words flowing from her lips desperately.
"All my life I have done everything to try to please him. But no matter what I do, or how hard I try, it's never enough, no. I will always be scum to him, no more than dirt. He never cared for me, or for Gavroche, he just cares about his filthy money, not us. Who was the one who won her own money, enough to rent an apartment? Me. I can't move out because he won't let me, he won't let me be better than he ever was. It is me who is always there for Gav, it's me who works her tail off to buy food and clothes for the two of us, I'm not like him! I will never be like him!"
At that point, her body was shaking with violent sobs as tears fell freely down her cheeks. Enjolras stared at her shocked, without knowing what to do. But as her body seemed to give up under pressure, he moved closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to his chest. It felt strange to him to be holding her, this usually strong and stubborn woman, being so broken. He rested his chin atop her hair while one of his arms traced her back gently, attempting to comfort her in any way he could.
"I'm not like them, I'm better. He doesn't own me, he never was a father to me, and he's just a monster!" she sobbed into his chest, her tears damping his shirt. But he didn't care, he thought that at least she deserved someone to be there for her. "He's a drunk who isn't capable of feeling anything, I hate him! Look what he did to me! What he has always done to me…"
His arms tightened around her frame as he breathed deeply trying to swallow the anger that was bubbling inside his throat.
"What happened tonight, Éponine?" he whispered, tilting his head so now his cheek was against her hair, the scent of vanilla and rain-water filling his nostrils as he gazed towards the end of the room, rain falling down, while the dim lights of the city flickered outside the window.
"He was going to hit Gav. I yelled and got in the way" her voice was dark, laced with loathing "I told Gavroche to run and spend the night at Courfeyrac's. He slapped me, but I fought back. He ended up punching me and I ran, grabbed my keys and took off. I don't want to go back there, Enjolras…I can't take it, not anymore"
Her sobs continued, her hands fisting his shirt as she tried to stop crying. She didn't cry, Éponine Thenardier didn't cry. She was strong and brave. She didn't cry, she didn't let anyone see how hurt and wounded she was on the inside. But that night her walls crumbled. She couldn't stand it any longer as she sobbed into the marble man's solid and warm body, his arms making her feel protected. She knew she shouldn't let him see her like that; she couldn't get attached to him. Every time she began trusting someone, she was the one who ended up harmed. But Éponine was tired, tired of being on her own. Perhaps trusting someone wasn't that bad.
"Stay with me, Ep" he blurted out, surprising even himself. But somehow he couldn't stop, so he continued "I-I mean, you don't have to, it's not some kind of obligation, I'm just saying there may be a life here…A new one. You can start all over again, I can help you…you can run away…here, with me."
Enjolras was about to stand up, walking away and hide, why the hell had he even said that? He knew how Éponine felt about getting help from others. Why would it be different this time? He was waiting for her to stand up and start yelling about who did he think he was, that she didn't need any help, to storm out of the room and lock herself in the bathroom. But none of that happened. He felt her tense for a brief moment but then, she relaxed. Éponine buried herself deeper into his embrace as a quiet sob shook her body.
"Let me help you" he whispered against her hair "You don't need to do this alone"
They stayed on the sofa for what seemed hours to him, her head tucked underneath his chin, his arms wrapped protectively around the broken girl as he traced her backbone with his fingertips slowly. At some point, she stopped crying and her body went slack. Enjolras heard her slow breathing and after making sure that she was already asleep, he stood up, scooping her in his arms carefully. She curled her body against his as he walked towards his bedroom, her warm breath tickling his neck every time she exhaled. Enjolras would let her stay however long she needed, here, in his place, she could sleep in his bed and he would stay on his couch, it was comfortable, after all. He felt goosebumps as her hands touched his chest, her nose close to his neck. He never had felt something like this before, the sensation that he could protect her from anything, her warmth comforting him in a way he had never felt before. As he placed her into the sheets of his bed carefully, he admired the way the light of the moon seemed to outline to contours of her face, her sharp cheekbones, and full lips parted slightly as she breathed, her dark raven hair sprawled on the pillow.
With her face now clean from blood and rain, he was able to see her properly for the first time that night. Away was the pain and suffering she had shown for the last few hours, her face was relaxed in a peaceful expression. She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that any longer. He wondered what would have happened should she have not managed to run away from her father, and especially, why did she call him? Out of all the Amis, why had she called him? She shifted in her sleep, turning her head to the other side. He frowned as the bruise came into view. No one would harm her again, not if he was there to stop it.
He turned to leave when he felt a tiny hand holding down his wrist. He looked back and his eyes met hers.
"Please, stay"
Crack. Another blow to his chest. He was ready to protest, when something in the back of his mind told him, to do as she asked. Going against his nature, he nodded and slipped into the bed by her side. He remained still for a moment, not sure of what to do. He closed his eyes and tried to slow the beating of his heart, his hands clamped to his side as he breathed heavily. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt her arm over his stomach, her head resting on his chest tentatively. With hesitation, he circled her waist and pulled her into him. She seemed to relax with his touch, drifting back to sleep almost immediately. He fought back the exhaustion he was feeling and remained awake, trying to capture into his memory every single detail about that moment: the way she seemed to fit perfectly into his arms, his hand draped over the curve of her tiny waist, her head over his heart. Ignoring every single barrier and beliefs he had about women, he moved his head closer, a breath away from her peaceful face.
"I'll stay" he whispered. Then, without thinking it, he moved closer and pressed his lips above her brow. He held them there for a long time, before he pulled back.
Closing his eyes, he tried to follow her there, a place where no one could harm her, them. He felt his body going numb, drifting into sleep. But if he had stayed awake a bit longer, he would have witnessed the almost imperceptible smile that appeared on her lips.
Enjolras woke up to find himself alone in the bed, tangled in sheets. Blinking away the sleep, he let out a soft grunt and sat up, brushing his hand through his hair. Looking around the room, he felt a stab of disappointment as he realized that she had surely already left. It was Éponine, after all, unpredictable, stubborn, independent Éponine. He stood up and walked out of the room, dragging his feet groggily as he made his way towards the kitchen. Perhaps a little coffee would help clear his mind after the night he had had.
But before he could walk further, he caught sight of her. She was sitting on the window seat, her legs bent in front of her as her head rested against the glass, holding a mug of coffee with both hands, her gaze lost somewhere out of the room. Beneath his white shirt, her skin appeared to glow, the dim light of morning sparkling over her. He stood frozen for a while, content to watch her peaceful expression. He felt relaxed, for a moment the worries of last night suddenly forgotten. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee she must have surely prepared earlier. He blew the hot steam from the top of the mug and walked into the next room again.
He slowly approached the window seat. Without looking at him, she slid her legs off the seat. Taking it as a silent invitation he sat down, his back pressed against the glass. He almost choked on his coffee when without a warning, she lifted her legs again and placed them over his thighs, her position being the same she had had when he first entered the room. Enjolras stiffened at the proximity, her long tanned legs over his, the scent of vanilla clouding his senses once more. They remained silent. She, gazing out of the window. He, observing her.
"Did you mean it?" she broke the silence first, her eyes still on the street outside.
"What?" he asked quietly, afraid to break the peacefulness of the moment.
"Runaway with you. Here. Did you mean it?" He had never heard her voice more fragile than at that moment.
"Of course I did, 'Ponine" He dipped his head down to catch her eyes. He moved even closer, his eyes fiercely gazed into hers "I meant every word I said"
Her chocolate eyes seemed to sparkle with the light, and for the first time he noticed the golden freckles they had. Their shoulders were touching, and she tried to ignore the way her heart began beating harder inside her chest.
"Will you stay?" Now it was his time to ask, his voice barely a murmur as he watched her, his eyes never leaving hers.
Éponine remained still as she gazed into his eyes intently, as if trying to understand the reason for his actions. But even he himself could not. He was staring at her as if it were the first time he'd seen her, as if her answer was the most important thing in the world to him. Which, in a way, it was.
A smile cracked in her lips, her dimples appearing almost immediately. It was the most breathtaking thing he had ever witnessed. Her face brightening up, the happiness reaching her eyes.
"Yes"
Crack. With another jolt of pain, he felt something inside his chest. As if his heart was about to burst. Suddenly, he was leaning closer, his eyes searching for hers. Without stopping to consider if it was a good idea, he let for the first time his instincts guide him and in a blink of an eye, his lips were on hers. His eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed hers tentatively, a current of electricity running down their bodies. It was soft, it was fragile, it was light. The kiss ended up too soon, her head resting in his shoulder.
"You know why I called you?" she whispered, her voice soft against his skin. Without waiting for him to answer she spoke again "Because somehow, when you are around, I don't feel broken anymore"
And with that his lips met hers once more.
He pulled her closer to his body, his finger caressing her cheek. All of a sudden he was kissing her and running his fingers through her hair, placing his hand behind her neck as he pulled her in for another kiss, his body hovering over hers as his hips moved against hers slowly, carefully. The sounds that left her lips made him shiver, a gasp escaping every time he pressed his lips against her collarbone, marking her as his own.
Éponine wasn't fragile, she wasn't delicate, she wasn't inoffensive. But at that moment, underneath him, she was all that. In his arms, she morphed into a completely different creature. Every bruise and scar that marked her body made her who she was, testimony of what she had been through. It made her perfect to him.
He was moving slowly, savouring the feeling of skin against skin, every kiss. "Look at me." Her eyelids, which she had closed despite her resolve of not to, fluttered open. Blue meeting brown. And it's then when they saw each other, as they were, for the first time. The marble had cracked completely, leaving behind a strong, passionate and loyal Enjolras. Her wounds were healing, slowly but effectively, leaving behind a brave, confident and delicate Éponine. She gazed up at him, her fingers moved tracing his jaw, down his neck, leaving his skin burning wherever she touched.
He pulled her arms and pined them above her head, lacing their fingers together. Without thinking about it, he unclasped one of his hands and let it slide down until he reached her stomach. He traced the bruise delicately. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to pretend that the bruise wasn't there. But it was, and somehow, it proved to him how brave she was, how beautiful she was.
"Look at me." His eyes snapped open, her eyes boring into his. With his free hand he brushed hair out of her face. She was arching up, her feet scratching his lower back. Neither of them could tear their eyes away, the sound of his name leaving her lips bringing him to his end. He had only received a few phone calls from Éponine, but he never imagined that the last one would change his life forever.
In the light of the day, she wasn't Eudora anymore. She was Hemera, goddess of daylight. She wasn't broken, not anymore, not when she was in his arms. As he moved from above her, a smile formed in his lips. Pulling her into him, he traced with his lips the contours of her face, his breath hitting her skin every time he whispered words only she understood. Who would have thought that one day, the fierce creature that was Éponine Thenardier would be his? As she rested her head against his bare chest, placing it over his heart, he placed light kisses on her knuckles.
"You can hide with me" he whispered against her hair, light streaking through the window, darkness forgotten.