A Mother's Wisdom
By: okapiangel
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. Honestly, do I really look OLD enough to have written the novel?
Author's Notes: It had to happen eventually. The Eponine Death Fic is inevitable. So here's mine. Its just really a pathetic piece of drabble that popped into my head while I was studying for finals. Actually, I haven't studied yet. I should start that soon. Anyhow, enjoy.
Her mother had these little sayings that she would tell her and her sister every so often. Her mother wasn't even sure that she believed them, but they had been told to her by her own mother – who was a perfectly wonderful woman. Therefore she would repeat them to her own daughters. They used to infuriate her, because at times she wondered if her mother was really stupid enough to believe her asinine sayings. Did her mother really think that she thought she was made of sugar and would melt in the rain? Did her mother really care if she washed behind her ears? The rest of her body was so dirty that she really didn't see the point. But yet her mother continued to spew these sayings at her.
She hadn't seen her mother in quite awhile. Funny how you think of these things at times like the present. Here she was, lying among the dead and dying, and all she could think of was that she hadn't seen her mother in quite awhile. She would have laughed, only it hurt too much.
How long has she been lying here? It felt like an eternity, but it couldn't have been too long or she'd be dead by now. Why had she saved that man's life? Why did she try to fool herself into thinking he could love her? Why did she persist in believing that she loved him. Death has a way of clarifying everything. Her family, though pathetic and disgusting, was her only source of any sort of love. At one point she might have been pretty enough to make him look at her without disgust, but now she had a face that only a mother could love.
Mother's are like that – unconditional love. Or was she fooling herself again?
She hurt too much to try and think about it.
Oh wait! He's here now! She reaches out her arm and stops him. How predictable, he doesn't know who she is! Damn him – she deserves at least a few minutes of happiness. She's talking to him, but she's not really aware of what she's saying. Probably something about love – and for that she blames her mother's infatuation with romance stories. Fairytales don't happen in real life. She should be telling him something practical, such as, "Take me to a doctor – now." But no, instead she's blabbering something inane and romantic. Her hand hurts, but not as badly as her stomach.
Slowly the pain is dying away, and leaving a numbness in its wake. She's dying. She's not really afraid though, and he's holding her for once. Still, its not all she expected. There is no tenderness, and he's terribly awkward. She's not sure if she's still talking to him, or if he's talking to her. It doesn't matter anyways – in a few minutes she'll be dead and he won't remember her.
Instead of feeling like a martyr or a hero, she feels numb. And instead of his voice whispering that he really, truly loves her, she hears her mother's voice: "Always wear clean underwear when you go out incase you get in an accident." Well, death is a really big accident.
…Pity she doesn't own clean underwear.