Title: Watching
Author: Desert Butterfly
Pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire, some one sided Eponine/Marius
Rating: Probably nothing more than G.
Summary: After a night of watching Enjolras, Grantaire bumps into Eponine who seems to think they have more in common than one would guess..
Disclaimer: I am not Victor Hugo, nor do I claim to be. I do not own these characters and am making no money from this. It is pure-self indulgence

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Watching

Enjolras was speaking again. It was probably something about the monarchy, the revolution or whatever political idea it was that had him currently worked up, but that was all that Grantaire could determine. He was not really listening to him, but watching him speak, a past time that - as entertaining as it was for Grantaire - would never be quite as effective at receiving the message the speaker was trying to communicate.

He had tried to listen - for a good ten minutes he had found himself compelled by the words spoken by Enjolras, as ludicrous as his logical mind told him that he should find them - but as the night went on, it seemed that the words were drowning in the liquid constantly flowing to Grantaire's own lips. So it was that for the majority of the evening Grantaire remained contented to simply see and not to hear, pausing to make the occasional deriding remark set upon by drink more so than anything else.

It was, as Grantaire had discovered long ago, a rather enjoyable hobby to watch Enjolras, in his opinion at least. The only hazard it presented (for all hobbies do have their hazards) was the sharp, stabbing sensation he felt in his chest whenever Enjolras threw a disdainful look in his direction.

Or worse, when a look seemed to come his way that suggested the opposite of disdain.

Grantaire was smiling to himself, thinking how Enjolras might react if he ever found out that he had classed Enjolras-watching as a personal hobby when he noticed Courfeyrac and Marius - it had been one of those days (that seemed to be becoming more infrequent lately) when Marius attended their gatherings - stand to leave, followed by Joly, Bossuet and the others. Seeing as it must be nearly time for the Café to be closing, Grantaire stood, turning around, and was convinced for a moment that he had seen something strange - a dirty that had been standing in the window, watching them, but that had now ducked out of sight.

He quickly checked the table to make sure he didn't leave any full bottles behind to go to waste - not to worry, all were empty - and picked up his coat along with the rest of the group.

Goodnight Enjolras he said gently, suddenly very sober as he saw Enjolras approach the door to leave. Enjolras paused, but did not turn around.

he said, his voice bare of all emotion. Grantaire noticed how he had not addressed him by name.

He sighted and pulled his coat tightly around him as he stepped out into the cold, seeing his friends depart in every direction before him. Keeping his head down, he began to walk.

It must have been only a few yards that he had gone when he was suddenly collided into by a figure darting out from an alleyway - the same dirty figure he had seen in the window, not minutes before.

Looking to his feet where the figure had fallen, Grantaire saw the shape of a young girl, her dark hair tangled and matted, her skin calloused and frostbitten and her clothes nothing more than rags. She might once have been pretty, had poverty not taken away that right as it takes away so many others.

Grantaire watched as the girl pulled herself to a sitting position, only to crumple against the wall.

What's the use anyway? he heard her mutter to no one but herself.

Are you all right, mademoiselle? he asked, worried that he had hurt her when she'd run into him. She laughed bitterly and Grantaire noticed that she was looking down the street where Marius was walking home.

Depends what you'd class as all right', doesn't it? she said, still watching as Marius turned the last corner to disappear from her sight.

Grantaire instinctively turned to face the direction where Enjolras was disappearing into the night, wondering if it was worth his time to get involved in any way with this girl in tattered clothing. When he turned back, the look on the girl's face insinuated that she had seen more than he had.

It seems you and me aren't all that different, Monsieur she said with a ghost of a smile.

What do you mean? Grantaire asked, wondering what he could possibly have in common with this creature. She smiled a little more.

I have seen you many times with your friends, Monsieur. Watching your little gang has become a bit of a habit of mine she said.

For Pontmercy? Grantaire inquired.

Oui, if by Pontmercy, you mean Monsieur Marius. At the mention of the name, the girl's eyes took on a look that was at once vacant and full to the brim with emotion - a look Grantaire would have recognised if he'd ever thought of Enjolras while looking into a mirror.

Anyway Monsieur, you know now how I follow Monsieur Marius and how I watch him when I can. But tonight, and on many similar nights before this one, it seems that while I'm watching Monsieur Marius, you're watching that golden-haired boy in a way such as I often do with Marius - so you don't see barely nothing around you but him.

Grantaire paused wondering if the girl had overstepped her bounds far enough for him to leave her where she sat. However, he resisted the urge to go, somehow compelled to hear more of what she had to say.

I think I might be a little bit in love with Monsieur Marius, she went on,and looked up at him, Just as I think you might be a little bit in love with that golden-haired boy from the Café.

And who are you to say that? Grantaire asked defensively.

I am Eponine, Monsieur, the girl replied, suddenly all innocence.

Perhaps it's time for you to be finding your way home, Eponine.

If you say so, monsieur she said calmly as he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet.

Once she was standing, she smiled at him, a sad, wistful smile.

There is one difference that I can see between us, Monsieur she said.

And what is that?

Monsieur Marius does not know of my existence. If I were to approach him on the street he would think no more than that I was a beggar girl, asking for money. But you, she continued, You may approach the man you gaze after whenever you choose and have him recognise you, even talk to you. You are even allowed to dine with him and his friends.

Eponine choked out the words as if they were causing her physical pain. But she looked up at him again and smiled a hollow smile.

I'd best be going, she said, Au revoir Monsieur.

She turned to leave but Grantaire stopped her.

he called before she had gone too far.

Although he was hardly known for his displays of charity, he was still only human and it seemed that he had been forced, however unwillingly into something of a bond with this impoverished young girl.

He took her hand and pressed 40 sous into it, so that although it seemed her heard would not be fed tonight, her body might be.

She received the money with a look of surprised gratitude and he turned and left before she could say anything more, and Grantaire soon heard her light footsteps running down the street in the opposite direction.

He walked slowly down the street, not consciously noticing another figure on the street ahead of him, automatically assuming it to be one of the homeless who spend their nights wandering the streets. But as the figure approached, Grantaire saw not the cold face of a poor man, but the face of Enjolras.

he asked, bewildered, But what are you doing here? Why are you not at home?

I left something at the Café Musain Enjolras replied abruptly and continued walking.

Grantaire said quickly before he could leave. Enjolras turned around and Grantaire placed a hand on his shoulder, remembering all too well what Eponine had so accurately informed him. Enjolras looked from the hand to Grantaire who was smiling at him, his normally ugly face full of sweetness.

Take care of yourself, mon ami Grantaire said tenderly, keeping his eyes locked on those of his friend. Enjolras did nothing to avert the gaze and nodded slowly. He raised his own hand to the hand resting on his shoulder and Grantaire felt his touch linger before he removed it. He nodded again, but said nothing more and turned to walk away.

Grantaire watched as he headed back to the Café Musain. He though he saw Enjolras look briefly back at him, but then he was gone.

Yes, do take care of yourself, Enjolras , he thought, staring down the street, Take care of yourself, or I shall do it for you.


FINI