Hey, folks! Sorry I haven't been updating, a lot of stuff has been happening; I've been struggling with depression and bad things just keep happening. On the bright side, I'm an Auntie now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis or the characters.

"Marius." Eponine breathed. After a moment of hesitation, she hurried over to him. She wanted to hug him, but worried that she would hurt him.

"How long were you standing there?"

Eponine thought for a moment. How long had she been standing there? It was hard to tell when minutes felt like hours and hours like days. She found herself unable to provide an answer; but her silence provided one all the same.

"'Ponine, you're pregnant. You need rest too."

She remained silent. Then, after a moment or two,

"I didn't want to leave you…"

"You could have lain next to me."

"I didn't want to risk hurting you…"

"I won't break." He promised. "Rest." He weakly patted the space next to him. She tentatively sat down, though it was blatantly obvious that she had no intentions of resting. "'Ponine, please. You need to rest." He insisted. Eponine sighed and lay down next to him. Her head had hardly touched the pillow before she jumped back up.

"I'd nearly forgotten; Joly left some morphine for you. Are you in pain? Do you want the morphine?"

"No, no… I'm fine."

"You don't need to be a hero, Marius. If you're in pain, then you should take the morphine."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Why?"

"… What if I don't wake up?"

Eponine froze. That same question had been tormenting her ever since he'd first passed out. She very carefully took hold of his hand in both of her own.

"What if I just slip away? At least when I'm in pain, I know that I'm not dying."

Tears rolled down Marius's cheeks and Eponine tried to stifle a sob. She couldn't bear the thought of him dying. He was the father of her unborn children and she loved him more than she had ever thought could be humanly possible. The thought that he might die caused her unimaginable, indescribable pain. This unendurable, inescapable thought penetrated her thoughts constantly since Marius had been found; each second of it was torture.

"You'd better not die." Eponine managed to say through tears, "I need you here with me…"

"Oh 'Ponine… I couldn't deny you anything." He managed in response, smiling weakly. "Now, please, rest."

She shook her head stubbornly. It didn't seem right to her to sleep while he was awake and in pain. What if he needed something while she was asleep? She had to take care of him just as he had so often taken care of her. She had to repay him for the years of friendship he had given her; he, who had been her friend when no one else would; he, who had never looked down on her despite her poverty and lack of social status; he, who loved her when she so desperately needed to be loved. She had to take care of him.

"'Ponine, I mean it: you need to rest; for your sake and for the babies' sake. You're three months pregnant. You need the rest. Please? For me?"

A small smile played on her lips,

"I could never deny you anything, Monsieur Marius."

"In this case, ma chérie, that is a good thing."

She laughed quietly and kissed his forehead gently.

"I love you, Marius."

"I love you too, 'Ponine."

She lay back down and wondered how on earth she was supposed to sleep when she was filled with so much worry for the man that lay next to her.

She didn't wonder for very long as exhaustion soon took over and she fell into a deep sleep.

Marius studied her silently in that serene, yet ardent way of lovers.

Her hair was a mess, having been blown into disarray by the wintry winds that accompanied the snow; her eyes were puffy from crying and had dark bags under them; her face was still rather gaunt and sickly-looking despite her improving health; her lips were pulled down at the corners in a small frown; and she was beyond pale.

He thought her, still, to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

That's what love does; it transforms. What was ugly seems beautiful; what was dull seems bright. Love, in itself, is happiness; but also sorrow. It can bring immense joy just as easily as it can bring immense pain. Eponine had, once upon a time, been beautiful; but that had been a long time ago. Certainly there was, in her face, hints of this lost beauty; that was what Marius saw and the love he held for her enhanced those features to his eyes. He loved her; so she was beautiful. No other woman could compare to her, in his eyes. He scarcely noticed other women– not that he had particularly noticed them before.

He knew not how to express this to her; he knew not the words that could convey the depths of his love for her. Perhaps such words did not exist. Love can be inexplicable; inexpressible; incomprehensible. Marius could, however, content himself with the three words that, when put together, held more meaning than any other words or phrases: I love you. This was all Eponine needed to hear and all Marius could think to say. How could he explain the feelings he held for her other than in these three words? He could not. He was not a poet, yet he doubted that even the most accomplished and philosophical of poets or writers could succeed in expressing accurately the deepest of human emotions: love. This word was the only description he could give and it was the only one he needed. Eponine knew, now, exactly how he felt about her because it was the same way she felt about him– the same way she had always felt about him; this inexpressible emotion that we call love. Why do we call it love? We know no other name for it; and so, the word stands: love.

He loved her and she loved him; and so the story goes.

—

Eponine didn't sleep for very long, perhaps only an hour or two. Well, Marius thought, it was better than nothing.

She opened her eyes and found herself looking into those of Marius. She smiled faintly; but it was a sad smile. She could see the pain in his emerald eyes.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

Marius, without thinking, immediately reached up to wipe the tear away. He winced.

"Rest, love." Eponine murmured hastily, "Don't worry about me,"

"Easier said than done." He replied, shaking his head. He winced once again.

"Oh Marius… Who did this to you?"

Marius considered lying, knowing that the truth would hurt her. He couldn't bear to cause her pain; but, he knew, the pain would be increased by a tenfold if she ever discovered–and she was very likely too, given her expertise in the area–that he had lied to her. So, he answered truthfully,

"Your father."

Eponine paled.

"My… My father?"

"Yes… and the Patron Minette."

"Then… Then that means…"

"No." he cut her off, "This is not your fault."

"Yes, it is. He hurt you to get back at me for leaving. This is entirely my fault."

"I refuse to believe it."

"But it is! Think about it; would he have hurt you otherwise? They wouldn't have attacked you if I hadn't stayed away for so long. He saw a chance to hurt me by hurting you and he took it. This is my fault, Marius, and I am so sorry."

"Are you the one that attacked me?" he asked her after a moment.

"Well, no."

"Then it is not your fault."

"Just because I didn't attack you doesn't mean it's not my fault. It is my fault; but now is not the time to argue. You need rest."

"'Ponine…"

"Please, Marius, rest. You need to get better."

Marius sighed– which Eponine took as consent.

After a moment,

"What if I don't wake up?"

"You will." Eponine said, shaking her head, "I know it. You're a fighter; of course you'll wake up."

Marius smiled faintly. Eponine kissed his forehead gently,

"Sleep well."

This seems like a pretty good place to end the chapter. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Again, sorry for the long absence.