(AN – I'm taking some artistic licence with the order of events surrounding the barricade. I hope you don't mind, this is after all AU. Also just want to say a MASSIVE thank you to SusanaLovesRowling who helped me loads with this chapter, you're such a star thank you!)

Chapter 12 – One Day More

One day to a new beginning, thought Enjolras as he stood in the Café Musain on the day before General Lamarque's funeral. Around him the air buzzed with anticipation as their final preparations were made. He had hardly paused to take breath over the last twenty four hours, for which he was immensely grateful, as it left him with no time to dwell on the unpleasant thoughts stirred in him by his unwanted nightmares. He put it down to nerves, of course.

"I hid the flags like you told me Enjolras," cried an excited Gavroche, running into the café having completed his latest errand.

"And you were not seen?"

"You can count on me, Monsieur."

"Good lad."

Enjolras took out his list and crossed 'hide the flags' from his things to do. He raised his eyes to survey the men in the room with him, all busy with their allotted tasks. Looking over his friends who were willing to risk everything for the freedom of France, his eyes stopped as he noted Eponine sitting in the corner preparing cartridge papers and stacking them into neat piles. He was glad she was helping although he was sure it was for Marius's sake more than anything.

Not for the first time, he wondered how she had come to be so infatuated with Marius. Marius was a good man, but he was in no way Eponine's equal. Her wit and vivacity mostly went over the boy's head, and although Pontmercy valued Eponine's friendship, he was blind when it came to her qualities. Marius's view of the world was simple: he saw Eponine as a good girl, but a street girl none the less, a vulnerable girl who deserved his pity. But she was so much more than that. Perhaps it was because he had known her before she came to be a gamine, but Enjolras saw her strength, her determination and her loyalty. The very qualities, he realised, that could lead her to do something stupid, say, following Marius to the barricades.

Once the thought had occurred to him, it did not matter how busy he was, he couldn't fully shake it from his mind. He was relieved when Eponine approached him and asked to speak with him.

"I shall only be a minute," he informed Combeferre before he stepped outside.

Eponine walked quickly once they exited the café; he had to stride to keep up with her. She looked at him sideways as if deciding what to say to him. In Montfermeil, she would never have hesitated to say anything to him. Her indecision now went to further show the invisible barrier that had risen between them as adults.

Eponine stopped abruptly, turning so that she faced him. She tilted her head up so she was looking directly in his eye.

"You said to me that nothing is more important than the freedom of France."

Enjolras wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement—her tone seemed to be accusing. "Correct."

"Are you certain?"

"I rarely say things that I am not certain of."

"What about your life?" she asked.

"My life is of little consequence, there are more important things."

She waved away his words. "What about your friends' lives?"

He should have known this was about Marius. How selfish of her to think of Marius when they were trying to help her and others like her.

"Each man made a commitment to this cause of his own free will; each is aware that there are risks involved. And so are the people who will rise with us tomorrow."

"You truly believe that the people will rise?" she asked in wonderment.

"You know I do. Why must you question everything I say?"

"Because someone needs to, Enjolras! Your single-minded devotion is causing you to be blind to the facts."

"Single-mindedly devoted I may be, but at least it is for a higher cause, not for Marius."

Eponine's mouth dropped open for a second but she quickly snapped it shut again, a faint red flush blossoming on her cheeks the way it always did when she was losing her temper. "You called me a fool once—perhaps you are right. But I will tell you this: you are a bigger fool than me, for only I am hurt in my foolishness. In yours, your friends will go down with you. The people will not rise!"

"What do you know of it?"

"A damn sight more than you!" she gestured down at herself. "Have you not noticed, Enjolras? I am the people. I've been living among them for years. If you had seen all the things I'd seen, I doubt you would be so willing to fight for these people. They do not care for your pipe dreams; they do not have the luxury of deciding whether they would like a monarchy or a republic. All they care for is ensuring they have bread for the next day to feed their families. They're not coming Enjolras—they won't rise. Don't throw your life away!"

"That is not true," he ground out, jaw clenched.

"Enjolras," her tone of voice and posture softened, "do you really think this is what she would have wanted?"

Enjolras felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, he was certain that Eponine was about to walk onto dangerous ground—things that he had not spoken out loud for many years.

"Who would have wanted?" he pretended to be oblivious.

"Your mére."

"This is nothing to do with her."

"We both know that this has everything to do with her, Enjolras. You forget that I met her. She encouraged you to be good, yes, to help those less fortunate than you. I am certain, however, that she would not have wanted you to risk your life pointlessly. I am sure she would not have wanted you to risk your life at all."

"You meet her once, you did not know her."

"But I knew you. I saw how hard you tried to prove yourself, to be good. I watched what the guilt did to you."

"I never felt guilty," he lied, contradicting his previous statement regarding his honesty. He couldn't help it. Eponine's words were straying dangerously close to a truth that he wouldn't even admit to himself. He didn't like the fact that if she was correct, it would belittle the worth of the cause which he was willing to die for.

"Doing this," she said breaking the silence that had settled between them, "is not going to bring your mother back."

"This has nothing to do with me. You would do better not to speak of things which you do not understand."

"Fine," she snapped, her patience leaving her, "you carry on down your path to martyrdom but don't expect peace of mind to be waiting for you at the end of it. And don't say I didn't warn you."

Enjolras was no longer listening as he strode away from her. He stopped and turned around to face her once more. "Don't you even think for a second about coming tomorrow."

"I wouldn't dream of it, I don't want to die for nothing!" she cried.

Enjolras re-entered the café minutes later. His return was awaited by the Amis to give them the final run through of their positions and roles at the funeral tomorrow. Enjolras tried to shake off his frustration at Eponine, but her final words would not stop ringing in his head.

~X~

Although she did not re-enter the café, Eponine couldn't bring herself to wander far from the Musain that evening. From the street corner she watched the lights glowing out of the building's top windows as if the Café itself had become a beacon of hope shining across the dark Parisian streets. Its lights were as bright as the boy's dreams, and the streets just as ignorant to it as the people were of its members.

It wasn't that she thought they were wrong, she didn't. She knew that Enjolras really believed that France should be a republic and that he truly wanted all men to be equal. She knew that his ideals would make the world a better place, but he couldn't see that he was being motivated by the need to prove himself. This need had been ruling him since he was a child and stopping him from thinking logically about the best way to bring about the changes he so craved. It hurt her heart to know that the boys up there in the café would be betrayed tomorrow by the very people they were trying to save. Eponine was not one to pray but she found herself squeezing her eyes tight and asking God for the people of Paris to rise behind the boys.

She was tired and longed for her bed, but she just couldn't leave the boys to plan their revolution in vain. Enjolras, Marius and the others whom she had only gotten to know in the past few days—she felt like an invisible tether was binding her to them as she kept a silent vigil that night, watching for the law without them realising, just in case someone alerted the authorities of their plan.

And then there was Marius. She had honestly never believed he would actually go through with the plan, even if the others did. From all her conversations with him, he was not as committed to the cause as the other boys, or so she had come to believe. But today, he had prepared along with the rest of them. As she watched from her hiding spot and night drew further in around the café, he still hadn't appeared. It began to dawn on her that he was actually going to go through with it after all and she still had his letter. She couldn't allow him to go the barricade without giving it to him.

She was not sure what time it was when figures began to trickle out onto the street. As she had done so many times before, she called out to Marius as he passed by her. He approached her from the group of students as he always had, and his friends shouted and waved to her, all except Enjolras, who said nothing and soon retreated with the others, leaving her alone with Marius.

"Hello 'Ponine," he greeted with his usual broad grin. He hesitated slightly as he saw the crumpled letter in her outstretched hand. "What is this, Eponine?"

"It's from Cosette."

Almost too hastily he took it from her; Eponine watched the delight that sprang into his eyes as he broke the seal. It lasted for only a fleeting moment before his eyebrows knitted together in concern. Suddenly the freckles on his face seemed more prominent that ever, and Eponine realised it was because his face had been drained of its colour. His eyes shot up, boring into hers with an intensity she had never seen before.

"When did you receive this?"

"Yest-yesterday, no, no it was the day before yesterday," she stuttered.

"Why did you not give it to me sooner?"

"I…" she began, but found she had no answer.

"She's gone."

"No."

"She says here that her father is planning to take her away to England!"

"Perhaps she has not left."

"But I went to her house this morning, she was not there."

Eponine had no idea what to say.

"I thought that perhaps they were just out of town for a few days, visiting friends or something," Marius continued, "but not now, not after this. She has gone, Eponine. It is too late to stop her. How could you not have given this to me?"

Eponine was speechless. It alarmed her to see that tears were springing into his green eyes. "Marius," she reached out to touch his arm but he shook her off. He looked at her, his face speaking a thousand accusations that he could not or would not find the words to speak. "I-I didn't know," she stammered out pathetically.

She should have been glad, she had done the thing she wanted to do most—she had gotten rid of Cosette. But she wasn't; guilt rolled over her in waves and the pain in Marius's eyes filled her with the deepest regret. How could she have been so selfish, not wanting to deliver his letters?

"Now, at least, I do not care if I die tomorrow," he said, more to himself than her.

"Marius, don't talk like that."

"Life without Cosette is meaningless."

"I will fix it."

"What can you do?"

"Please trust me, Marius."

She did not wait for him to respond; her feet pounded on the pavement below her. She had to get to the house on Rue Plumet and somehow make amends for what she had done to Marius. She had realised as he had spoken that his love for Cosette was equally fervent as hers for him, perhaps even more so. If Marius was separated from Cosette, it would cause him to be as lonely and lost as she was, and that was something she had to prevent if she could.

She skidded to a halt in front of the now familiar iron gates of 55 Rue Plumet. She scaled them with ease; her work with her father was in her favour for once. She raced up to the windows and peered inside. The rooms were indeed empty as Marius had suggested, but Eponine's eyes were trained to assess such situations as this and she noted that they could not have taken more than the clothes on their backs. Eponine made her way round the house trying each window pane that was within her reach until she found one that moved beneath her touch. She shoved the window open and climbed through, landing silently on her feet on the other side.

It took her less than five minutes to make a thorough inspection of the property and conclude that there was no way its occupants could have left for England. Their wardrobes were full and they had left money, travel documents and identification papers in their safe. She was sure that they would be back, but—when? There was no knowing whether their return would be only to collect the necessary items to continue their flight. Eponine made her way to the feminine room she was sure belonged to Cosette.

The room was large and the walls covered with a motif of small blue birds. Eponine ran her hand along the elegant white vanity table that sat opposite the room's canopied bed. Her keen eyes noticed the left hand drawer of the vanity was not fully closed. She pulled it open, and amongst the trinkets which filled it were several pieces of crumpled paper which must have been stashed there in a hurry. She pulled out what was obviously the beginning of another letter, although Cosette had got no further than 'Dear Marius' before she had been interrupted.

Eponine searched amongst the bottles that littered the top of the vanity table for the pen that Cosette must have used, to no avail. Getting down onto her hands and knees, she scanned the floor. She must have left just as she was writing the letter, for the pen was discarded beneath her stool. Retrieving it, Eponine sat down in the same place Cosette must have been and began to write a letter of her own.

Dear Cosette,

I am a frend of Marius. I hav come to look for yoo becos Marius has discovered yur flight. Yoo must understand, he is in grave danger. He is planing to fight in the uprising that will start at General Lamarque's funeral tomorow, and is in such despare dat I fink he will do sumfink stopid.

Pleaz, pleaz, pleaz if yoo read dis befor tomorow, yoo must get de message to him dat yoo are still in the country.

Eponine hesitated before adding the final line of her note.

He loves you, Cosette.

The remorse which coursed through Eponine's veins was not appeased by her note. Her heart was heavy as she climbed back out of the window and made her way back to the entrance of Cosette's house.

There was nothing else she could do. It was her fault that he was going into battle with no fight left in him. She couldn't allow him to do that. She had to help, but Enjolras had said that she was not allowed at the barricades, and she was sure that the others wouldn't exactly be thrilled about having a girl there. Plus, Marius was angry with her—how could she keep an eye on him if he wasn't talking to her?

A mind like Eponine's can work quickly when it wants something. A plan had formulated in her head before she had reached her parents' house.

That was how Eponine Thenardier came to be standing among the mourners at General Lamarque's funeral. Dressed as a boy, her head was down but her eyes trailed the members of Les Amis who stood among the crowd. Full of fear and full of dreams, they waited…