A/N: Reviews, follows and comments! Thank you all so much :-)
I am trying to maintain my standards, and so here is the next step, deeper into the story. Updates are probably coming a bit slower from now on, because I am now at the end of my pre-prepared chapters for posting, but I still try to use whatever fuel I have and give you more as quickly as possible. (Of course, reviews fuel that process... ;-))
Thanks also to judybear236 who again sent corrections!
Chapter 3: A race through dark places
"It's the last time I'll ever trust you."
"Also the first."
She came to her feet quickly in the manner of a wild beast wounded, adrenaline pumping through her veins with ferocious intensity, blocking out all the pain with an overwhelming urge to run to safety.
Dimly, she realized that Marius and his friends were crowding around her, ready to ask questions, ready to take action, but fear was governing her actions and all she managed to say was
"We have to leave!"
Marius looked, as if he were about to protest, while Jehan's gaze was still full of horror, but it was Enjolras, who commanded, and Enjolras, who fully concurred with her, probably grasping the situation better than any of the others. Right now, there was no time for pain or medicine. First, they had to escape from the rally, find a safe haven. And then, then maybe it was time to curl down and ride the suffering out.
"Then come", Enjolras commanded and set himself into motion, doing what must be done without even looking back, and it was up to the other three to keep up with his quick, purposeful strides that easily found their way through the scattering crowds.
Now, that she was in the middle of it, it was more difficult to estimate where the soldiers were, and Eponine looked around wildly, trying to decipher the chaotic situation.
Before her Enjolras stopped, for a moment uncertain where to go, and Eponine, peering past him, could see the telltale blue-and-red at the end of the alley he had been heading towards. Soldiers were assembling at their intended escape route, blocking the path. For a moment, the young student looked around, doing what Eponine had tried just moments before, but they were losing time, and the guards closed in on them.
Eponine turned towards Marius, who hovered at her side.
"Follow me", she said and, in an unconscious copy of Enjolras just before, strode along at an angle to their original path, crossing the crowds, slipping between a butcher's stand and a woman selling crude linen –both showering her in hearty curses as she passed by and the students followed, in their hurry pushing some of the goods into the dirt of the market floor.
Behind the stands, she went with the crowd of people, passing along the row of small shops and cheap taverns to stop at the entrance to one of them, opening the door and passing through.
She was not the only one to use this escape, and in addition to the three students, two other visitors of the market slipped through, passing through a filthy guestroom into a filthier kitchen, that was located in the cellar a few steps down.
Again, Eponine found herself showered in curses, this time by a cook more than a head taller than herself, wearing a threadbare apron and a grimace conspicuously bereft of teeth. She ignored him best she could and turned around to see if the students had managed to keep up with her, but they were still there, all three of them.
Marius first, his face clouded in concern. His eyes were glued to her shoulder, where her blouse was more and more clotted with blood coming from the wound that she had actually temporarily forgotten. Something in his gaze warmed her – genuine worry for her safety had to count for something, in the end – but there was no time to enjoy this… later, later maybe, but not now.
Jehan still appeared to be dazed, but luckily reacted on all the right impulses, trailing after her like a lost puppy, while Enjolras brought up the rear, careful that no one fell back, mindful that they stayed close to one another.
Eponine gave a grim, satisfied nod to herself. She was not very glad to have to show the students the escape route that they were taking, but she had had little choice. Marius, she wouldn't have minded, but the rest of them was a different story, but she just couldn't help for them to come with her and if this was the price to pay for Marius' safety, it was a small price, despite everything. In the kitchen there was a trap door leading to a cellar, and climbing down the stairs, Eponine for the first time truly realized that she had been hurt, and badly so, because the fingers of her right hand were covered in blood and would not obey her command to cling to the steps of the ladder as they usually would.
Yet she managed, and from the cellar – the trap door closing behind her with a final thunk – there was another door, leading to another vault, and then a subterranean alleyway, created long ago for lord knew which purpose, that lead to another cellar, which, after mounting some stairs, lead to the entrance hall of a house harboring several appartments where the poor and desolate resided.
They passed through the front door unhindered, and there they were, standing in a small alley, a few streets away from the market, no police to be seen. The men that had unwillingly accompanied her small group scattered into all directions and left them in the relative silence of the side street.
Eponine took a moment to catch her breath and regretted it in that very instant, because the white hot pain in her shoulder that had been dulled by fear and excitement, exploded the instant she stopped running and brought her to her knees, gasping for breath.
"Ponine!" That was Marius, bending down to her in concern. Some part of her enjoyed it, seeing his face creased in concern, even through the veil of pain that was clouding her vision, but even though she would have trusted him as far as she was able to trust anyone, still she felt vulnerable, and scared, and trapped in the streets in daylight, not being able to defend herself.
"Ponine, does it hurt?" Marius' careful fingers tried to free the wound at her shoulder from the surrounding garment, careful, but still hurtful, and she let out a muffled scream in agony.
"Marius, not here." Enjolras' voice was as clear, cold and cruel as the blade that had cut her. "Bring her to the café. We'll have more time there. And give her your jacket. It will hide the blood and attract less attention."
Dazed, Eponine felt something warm and soft settling about her, placed carefully, yet enticing another moan from her as her shoulder shifted in response and another spike of pain shot through her.
"Jehan." It was not a question, but a command, and it roused the young poet to look at Enjolras, who continued as soon as he was certain to have the young man's attention. "Go and find Joly. Bring him back to the café, he's like to have his satchel with him anyway. I'll try to get Combeferre from Place Notre dame, and we meet up at the Musain as quickly as we can. Go!"
He did not lose any time in leaving, and apparently something in his voice galvanized the other ones into action as well. Eponine felt herself carefully pulled to her feet, and off they were, through the narrow streets of the quarter towards the Musain, their familiar haunt and refuge.
Eponine stumbled along, leaning heavily on Marius' arm, her senses clouded not only by the pain and the blood loss, that slowly started to take effect, but also by the scent of the jacket draped around her shoulders, clean and woolly and so very much him that it shook her to her very core.
She was beyond caring if her passage was thought odd by curious onlookers, was beyond caring about the danger. There was Marius, and he was bringing her to safety, and for once, just once, she allowed herself to be weak.
They entered the Musain through the back door that Eponine knew, but had never used up until now, and climbed up a set of stairs – no ladder, fortunately, because she was not sure whether she would have made it this time – and then she entered another whirlwind, strong hands were taking her, gently placing her on a hard surface – a table? - and the white-hot pain turned to a dulling red.
Dimly, she was aware, that they were not alone. She made an effort to open her eyes and look around, remnants of the instincts of an animal on the run, and first saw Marius, crouched before her, directly at her side.
Behind him, arms folded, face unreadable, was Enjolras, and that was indeed some surprise. To Notre Dame and back? He must have flown… or Marius and her progress had been incredibly slow. The third man, standing on her other side, bowed over her shoulder, she technically did not know by name, but judging from what had transpired earlier, she guessed that this must be the man called Combeferre, who had, quite obviously, some kind of medical education.
His brow was creased, more in concentration than in concern, as he cut away parts of the fabric of her blouse – she was too weak to protest – and then brought up a bottle of something smelling sharp.
"Drink this."
She obeyed, shuddering at the strong drink, but the alternative was worse.
And so she mercifully passed out as he set the first stitches.
Sometime later, she woke to the sound of a discussion growing louder. At first, she felt disoriented, and could not place the voices – Patron-Minette having a discussion with her father? – but then, random images came tumbling back. The market. The knife. Being wounded.
The sharp pain in her shoulder had dulled to a bearable ache, but her head hurt and she felt slightly hung over, while her awareness returned.
Slowly, she tested her surroundings. She was lying on a hard surface, a table most likely, still covered in Marius' jacket – shape and smell where clear to be distinguished, and she was certainly not alone. She moved fingers, elbows, shoulders (quickly to regret it), knees and feet, only tiny movements to make herself aware of the state she was in, while she tried to decipher the discussion.
"I'm not sure what happened." That was Marius, sounding uneasy and unsure. "It all happened much too quickly."
"He was coming for us." Jehan, his voice slightly panicked. Obviously, time had passed, but equally obviously, he had not yet stomached the shock of what had happened earlier that day.
"An attack at one of you? This is a scandal!" Another voice, agitated and angry. "This is going much too far! Who do they think they are?" Something hard slammed on wood, and then a chair screeched, someone got up and took to pacing. "Injustice we knew, but this goes way beyond that. This is a crime, and in the open face of daylight!"
"I think there is too little we still know about this." Eponine recognized the voice, placing it to the young medical student called Combeferre, using the same calm tone he also had applied when talking to her. "This may have been anything from a direct assault on us to a St. Michel squabble that we have no knowledge of."
"Correct." Enjolras sounded cool and composed. "Why don't we ask her, seeing that she's awake?"
She bit back a curse and opened her eyes, her pretense at being asleep just having been rendered futile, and took in her surroundings.
She was still in the back room of the café, having been placed on a table that was more sheltered, in a corner and away from direct view of the entrance.
The group of students, that she had seen Marius with numerous times – or at least a significant part of them – was sitting together discussing, and one of them, Combeferre, rose at the signs of her being awake to step towards her. Eponine, not wanting to be caught helpless, lifted herself not without difficulty to a sitting position, ignoring the stabs of pain from her shoulder.
Combeferre raised a hand in a sort of peace offering.
"Easy, Mademoiselle", he said, approaching her carefully. "You wouldn't want the wound to break open again. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine", she bit back. She did not take well to being coddled, and in addition, she felt ill at ease – her fake sleep discovered, in the company of society that she was not exactly used to, stabbed, in pain and still slightly intoxicated. Not the most appeasing of combinations, but Combeferre did not seem offended.
"As a matter of fact that is not far from the truth", he replied. "You will be soon, at least, I hope. Your wound is deep, but clean, and from what I can see, it has not hit any vital part of your body. You have lost quite a lot of blood, but with a bit of rest, this should be recovered. Given care, you will heal well, I think."
Eponine eyed his approach suspiciously, but he did not close in further on her, but instead leaned on the wall that her table was placed against, opening her view again to the rest of the room.
The students were watching her with various mixtures of curiosity and interest, chief among them Enjolras, who had placed his chin on folded fingers and surveyed her with unwavering intensity, and Marius, whose brow was creased in concern.
"I apologize for startling you, Mademoiselle." Enjolras did not sound very sorry, rather, as if he was acting on a reflex, ingrained deeply into his behavior and Eponine did not react to it well. "What's it to you?" she snapped, almost angrily, and this called forth a minuscule raise of his brow.
"Considering the circumstances, I think it is highly likely that at least one of us owes you his life." He gave her a small smile, and Eponine could not deny that it transformed his face to a certain extent, his easy charisma spreading effortlessly. "Eponine, it was? So I believe that at least thanks are in order. And maybe an apology for rudeness on my part."
His question about her name seemed to remind Marius of his manners, and the next half minute was a blur of names and introductions, and Eponine was distracted from the fact, that a bourgeois – a student, on top if it – had actually apologized for something that probably in his world passed for unacceptable behavior.
Focused on Marius, she tried to remember the names of his friends, some of whom she knew by sight, some of whom were still alien to her. To her surprise, she was greeted with something resembling friendliness – which put her immediately on edge.
Out of the group of young faces, it was again Marius, that held her wandering gaze, Marius and his expression of regret and anguish, that tug a strange string within Eponine's chest.
"Ponine, I really don't even know what to say in thanks to you", he began, uncertainty coloring his voice. She allowed herself for a moment to bask in these words. Marius had gotten up and was now stepping closer to her. "If you hadn't been there…" He shook his head in something that almost resembled an admittance of defeat. "Still, we are wondering what actually happened."
She had to admit, that this was the logical question at hand. Yet, Eponine was used to shroud her paths and ways in secret and mystery, and for a moment, she was at loss as to how she should convey the story. Quickly, she passed through what she knew, and what she had seen, but she found no danger in telling them the truth and so that was what she did.
"I saw the guy following you through the crowd. I wasn't sure which of you, but I saw the knife. And then I pushed him down and got a piece of metal in my shoulder for my trouble."
"That was very brave." Enjolras again. Eponine was looking at his face for signs of mockery, disturbingly finding none. She decided for a shrug she immediately regretted, because pain shot along her arm and into her chest, and she winced.
"Did you know that man?" asked Feuilly, and again, Eponine hesitated and finally opted for truth.
"I don't know him, no. But I've seen him before. He was tailing you."
She nodded to Marius, who immediately shook his head.
"Me? When? Why didn't you tell me?"
"When you were at Rue Plumet, two days ago", she replied. "I thought not much of it at that time. But he passed you twice, and I had a feeling he was watching you."
Marius paled visibly and closed the distance between him and her in two quick steps.
"Are you certain that was him?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders, and she utter a small scream, part in surprise, part in pain, but he did not even wait for the answer to come. "Good god… Cosette!" He released her and stepped back, a trifle uncertainly. "I need to make sure that…", his voice was shaking and he gave a last glance around the room. "… I apologize, comrades, I need to go."
And off he was, with steps as quick as thunder, and Eponine, still sitting on the table and watching his retreating figure, needed all that was within her to fight back tears of humiliation, pain and heartbreak.