Éponine did not wake up the following day. Marius couldn't help but be concerned. She wasn't out of the woods just yet and he didn't like the idea of her missing even more meals. He had continued to hold her until the morning, but when the sun rose he found he needed to relieve himself and grudgingly disentangled himself from her. She, of course, remained asleep and was still asleep when he returned. He pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned when he felt that she still had a very high fever. Naturally, being asleep she couldn't be given the cinchona bark to lower her temperature, so Marius fetched a bowl of water and a sponge, and dabbed at her forehead. It was all he could think to do.

Prouvaire came in around ten o'clock to bring Marius something to eat because he knew that, otherwise, Marius would not eat. He was not willing to leave Éponine's side for longer than he had to. Prouvaire, meanwhile, had been sleeping on the sofa, since Éponine was occupying his bed. He didn't mind though; the sofa was comfortable enough and he just wanted Éponine to recover. He didn't even consider it an inconvenience; he was just happy to be of some help.

Combeferre stopped by around midday to check on Éponine. He wasn't very pleased to find that she had yet to wake and that her fever had spiked again, but apart from sponging her forehead there wasn't much that could be done for it, not when she was sleeping. They had tried to wake her to give her the cinchona bark, but to no avail. She had opened her eyes a fraction of a centimeter, mumbled something unintelligible, and then had gone right back to sleep. Still, her fever continued to climb. Even Combeferre was starting to show concern now, despite his attempts to remain unambiguously calm.

As the day wore on, Marius was starting to feel desperate. Éponine was clearly not improving and he was unable to cope with this. He sat in a chair next to the bed and held one of her hands in both of his, his head lowered in prayer. Combeferre touched Prouvaire's arm and bade him leave the room with him by a jerking of his head towards the door. Prouvaire followed him out and Combeferre closed the door behind them as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Marius's prayer. He fixed Prouvaire with a somber regard and Prouvaire's face fell.

"She's not going to...?" Jehan started.

"I think... If her fever doesn't go down, there is a chance she might not... I don't know what else to do."

"Should... Should we tell him?"

Combeferre shook his head. "I don't think there's any point. He's already assuming the worst. If we tell him... Well, I really don't know how he would take it. He's already not coping very well. I don't want to break him. We'll know more in the morning. Do you mind if I stay here? If anything changes and there's something I can do, I don't want to miss the opportunity if it could mean saving her life."

"Of course," Prouvaire murmured. "You can sleep on the sofa. I have an extra room where I keep more of my plants; I'll sleep there."

As the night approached though, Prouvaire felt certain that Éponine would be the only one sleeping in the apartment that night. Marius stood vigil by Éponine's side in the exact same position, deep in prayer. His lips moved soundlessly as he begged god not to take her. Combeferre had gone in to check on Éponine again, but otherwise had not disturbed them. He had never seen Marius like this. True, he wasn't particularly close with him and they had even butted heads in political debate on occasion, but Combeferre had never really thought of Marius as the particularly serious type, not like this. But then, perhaps this attested to just how big his heart was and his capacity to feel. Combeferre had never seen such reverence, such tenderness in the way Marius held her hand or sponged her forehead. It was dedication equal to that of Enjolras's to the revolution, and that was saying something. Perhaps Combeferre had misunderstood Marius or otherwise judged him too quickly. Maybe he was a better man than he had originally thought. Combeferre would have to give him more credit in the future.

Prouvaire and Combeferre sat on the sofa all night and spoke in hushed whispers, mostly about what to do if Éponine did not survive. Marius didn't move in the slightest from his position. His neck was cramping and his back ached, but he neither released Éponine's hand nor ceased his prayer. Even as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, he did not budge. There was only one thing that could and would rouse him, and it came in the form of a soft, croaky whisper.

"Marius...?"

He raised his head. "'Ponine?"

Her large eyes were open and looking right at him. He jumped to his feet, eyes wide.

"You're awake! You're... You're lucid! Oh, 'Ponine! Oh, thank god..."

Combeferre and Prouvaire came running into the room, and Éponine looked back and forth between them, not fully understanding the situation. Combeferre felt her forehead and then turned to look at Marius and Prouvaire, a relieved smile upon his face.

"Her fever broke."

Marius actually whooped, grabbed Prouvaire and hugged him, then seized Combeferre and hugged him too. Éponine watched all this in wide-eyed amazement. She had the impression that Marius might have pulled her into a hug were it not that she was so fragile at the moment. He returned to her side and grasped her hands. She couldn't help but smile bemusedly.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"I found you under the Pont Neuf," Prouvaire told her. "You were sick and half-starved, so I brought you back here."

"We didn't know if you were going to make it," Marius added. "You were completely out of it and your fever was so high. Oh, but 'Ponine! You're going to live. I'm sure of it now. Oh, thank god..." He gently pulled her into his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder. "How do you feel?" He asked her.

"Like death," she replied. "Or maybe death warmed up a bit." Then she pulled back. "But you!" She smacked his arm, albeit lightly.

"What? What did I do?"

"You moved!"

"I... Oh."

"'Oh,' he says. You told me I could go to you for help and when I did, you were gone."

His face fell. "Oh, 'Ponine... I'm so sorry! I didn't even think... I— but you didn't tell me you moved either."

"Yeah, well it's a little embarrassing when you're homeless. And do you know where my family went? They're not at the Gorbeau House either."

"Ah. Right. They're in jail."

"What?"

Marius sighed. "They invited a man in, a rich man. They tried to swindle him. Your father had that gang with him."

"The Patron Minette... They tolerate him at the best of times. It must have been a really wealthy man for them to get involved."

"It was that Monsieur Leblanc, from when we used to go to the Luxembourg Gardens. Anyway, they were trying to rob him when that police inspector came in. Javert, I think? He told one of them not to fire his gun because it would misfire and it did, and then he was able to get the advantage on them. Meanwhile, Monsieur Leblanc escaped out the window."

"How do you know all this?"

He blushed faintly. "There's a hole in the wall between the two apartments. I noticed it when dusting my bookshelf. Anyway, after that I decided to move. Your father is pretty dangerous, isn't he? I moved in with Courfeyrac. I heard afterwards that they were all arrested, even Azelma. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do."

"Azelma..."

"I'm sorry, 'Ponine."

"Do you know where they're being kept?"

"I don't."

Éponine fell silent. Prison was no place for a girl as young as Azelma. How long could she survive in such conditions? How long before she succumbed to illness? Marius put a hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be all right. We'll find out which prison and... and I can be Azelma's lawyer. Guaranteed she was coerced into participating by your father. Surely, there's some argument to be made in her defense. We'll figure this out."

"I... I hope you're right."