It was hard to tell yet whether Éponine stood much chance of survival. Combeferre had done all he could for her and, indeed, just as much as any practised doctor could have done. Now they could only wait with baited breath for the tides to turn.

It had been three days since Prouvaire had found her and Marius refused to leave her side. He sat by her day in and day out, refusing even to sleep at night for fear that something might happen. Prouvaire, therefore, tasked himself with bringing meals to them. Éponine required help with just about everything, but Marius was more than up to the task. She was still mostly delirious with fever and most of the time, she slept. She could only sleep for a few hours at a time, however, and then she would wake herself up with the terrible coughing and rattled her chest. When awake, it seemed hard for her to focus on anything and her eyes would only rove. She would mumble nonsensically and the only thing that she would say that made any sense was Marius's name, though she didn't really seem to be aware that he was there with her.

Right now, however, she seemed to be having some sort of fit. She was refusing to eat and couldn't seem to stop crying. She was inconsolable and no matter what Marius did, he was quite unable to help her. She had been like this since she had woken up in the morning. Marius tried to feel her forehead, but she smacked his hand away. Even so, he was fairly sure her temperature had spiked. Prouvaire had gone to get Combeferre and in the meantime, Marius was at a complete loss for what to do.

"Marius!" Éponine wailed.

"I'm right here," he murmured, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Marius!" She cried again. She reached up and started clawing at her own face, but Marius swiftly grabbed her wrists. She struggled against him, but he kept his grip firm. "No! No! Give'm back!" She sobbed, deep and gasping sobs that wracked her entire body. "Help! Help! Marius!"

"I'm right here, 'Ponine. You need to calm down."

"Kill me," she moaned. "I want to die..."

"Don't say that."

"Please... He's gone... He left..."

"I'm right here," he said again. He released her wrists and gently grasped her face in both hands. "Look at me." But it seemed she was determined to look anywhere else. He moved her face towards his. "Look at me," he repeated softly, and finally her eyes locked on his. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, like a wounded animal. "I'm right here, 'Ponine. I'm not going anywhere." Tears rolled down her cheeks, but recognition flickered in her eyes. "I'm here," he murmured soothingly. Slowly, faintly, she nodded and he pressed her to his chest. Her thin arms wrapped around him, clinging to him for dear life. She closed her eyes and, listening to his steady heartbeat, started to calm. Her breathing slowed and only a few stray tears fell from her eyes now. Marius rubbed soothing circles into her back and Éponine started to fall asleep. Before sleep could claim her, however, four words escaped her chapped lips:

"I love you, Marius..." And then she succumbed to the realm of sleep.

Marius could only stare down at the sleeping woman in his arms. Her words reverberated in his head. She... loves me? Could he have misheard? He must have done. Either that, or it was just the fever that had made her say it. There was no way she loved him. Or, he tried to reason, or she loves me as a friend. I love her as a friend, don't I? That must be it, surely. He was wrong, but there was a part of him that was determined not to consider that that could be the case. He didn't want to think about what it could mean if his best friend was in love him because he wasn't really sure how he felt himself. Regardless, he stayed with her and held her as she slept. Perhaps because of this, she seemed to be sleeping much more restfully than she had been.

When Prouvaire returned with Combeferre, he found both of them asleep on the bed, still holding onto each other. He smiled warmly at the sight and pulled the blankets up around them.

"Combeferre, come look at this," he softly called out. Combeferre entered the bedroom and gave a small chuckle.

"Well, it would seem Marius has solved the issue, and it's good that he's finally getting some sleep as well. I think we should leave them, for the time being. If you'd like, I can hang around until she wakes up. I can check on her then."

"Yes, please," said Jehan. "I'd still like to make sure she's all right. It was really scary seeing her like that. I didn't know fever could do that. That was more than just being kind of out of it. She was swatting at anyone who approached her. She caught Marius in the eye; I'm surprised he doesn't have a bruise."

Combeferre smiled wryly. "Well, it's as Courfeyrac said: Marius has an incredibly thick skull."

Prouvaire laughed. "He may have had a point. Come on, I'll make us some tea."

Combeferre followed him into the kitchen and Prouvaire set about making the tea. Combeferre sat down at the table.

"So," Prouvaire said, sitting down across from him while he waited for the water to boil, "how did that exam of yours go? You should have your marks by now, yes?"

"Oh, yes," said Combeferre. "It went much better than I could have hoped. I was worried I'd fail, but I didn't."

"How'd you do?"

Combeferre's cheeks went a little pink. "Full marks."

"Full marks? That's wonderful. Congratulations! And you thought you'd fail."

Combeferre smiled. "That's usually the way, at least for me. The moment I leave the exam room, I'm thinking about all the questions I wasn't really sure about. Then I start thinking about the ones I'm fairly sure I got right and I try to figure out whether it was enough to pass. Then even if I logically know that I probably didn't fail, I worry that I've done terribly and that maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did."

"Ah, the life of a student. It's the same for me, though my exams probably aren't as intense as yours. With me, it's usually when it comes to the Latin texts that I start to worry. There'll be words that I think I know the meaning of, but then it's similar to a different word and I start to get confused. Italian is much easier though. The language is structured in such a way that it's actually fairly easy to learn, I find."

"That's good," Combeferre said. "I'm glad it's working out for you."

"Indeed. Oh, the tea is ready."

...

Combeferre did wait around for a few hours, but it eventually became evident that Éponine would not be waking up anytime soon and he returned home. Marius awoke just as the sun was going down, but found himself quite unable to move as Éponine was more or less draped across him. Seeing how comfortable she looked, he didn't have the heart to move and risk disturbing her. Then, as he watched her sleep, the words she had uttered came back to him. I love you, Marius. What if it wasn't just the fever? What if she actually did have feelings for him? What was he supposed to do with that information? Would she even remember saying it? Somehow, he doubted it. Perhaps, then, the solution was just to wait and see. If she mentioned it again, then he would figure out what to do about it. Otherwise, there was no sense in dwelling on it. If it had been a mistake or some result of the fever, it would only be embarrassing for her if he brought it up. No, he would wait. He would try not to think about it, push it from his thoughts. What would be, would be.