Sorry if you saw the last update when I uploaded chapter 8 by mistake! Oops! Thanks SusanaLovesRowling for spotting that

AN – I am so so so sorry that this chapter has been such a long time coming! I've just had a manic last two weeks. My life has (thankfully) decided to settle down a bit now so it should be business as usually with this story.

To thank you all for waiting for this chapter I shall reward you with some fluffy stuff – enjoy

Chapter 18 – Sleepless Nights

Monsieur Blanc, not his real name, returned to his flat that evening truly pleased with his work. He had been in the spying game for longer than he cared to admit, and could read people easier than he could read a book.

Meticulous as always, he drew out the two 'Enjolras' files he was working on. Retrieving a fresh sheet of paper, he made a careful note of all the features he had seen on the girl he bumped into on the street. She had gone into Marceline Enjolras's flat, just as he had predicted when he saw her with the portmanteau under her arm.

He closed the file and pulled the spectacles from his face. A quick background search had shown more than even the time-weary private eye had expected to discover. Life was strange, he thought, the way it twisted and turned and yet always seemed to come back around in a perfect circle.

He wondered if people truly knew what they were getting themselves into when they hired his services. But he reminded himself that, as long as he was paid, it was none of his concern. He got out a fresh parchment and began a letter to Henri Enjolras, informing him of what he had discovered so far.

~X~

Eponine's evening had passed in a blur. It had taken her the better part of an hour to convince Musichetta to wait until the morning before visiting Joly. Furthermore, the task of calming her down was made harder by Enjolras's pacing through the room. Eventually, Eponine remembered the books she had retrieved from his flat. He was grateful that many of them were law books, and soon enough had shut himself in his room to study what could be done.

Eponine had then made certain to supply Musichetta with several glasses of wine. Thankfully, they had fulfilled their purpose of making Musichetta fall asleep.

Night had fallen and Eponine was currently lying in the bed that had been made for her in Musichetta's room, listening to her friend's measured breaths. She tried to mimic them in the hope that it would induce her to sleep as well, but it did not; she watched shadows dance across the room and her mind was busy thinking of the day's many events.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Joly's face and the look of resignation on those features which had always been so ready to smile. She shuddered at the thought.

Seeking a distraction, Eponine sat up from her bed, wrapped a shawl around her nightdress, and crept into the main living room. She now mimicked Enjolras's path from earlier in the day as she walked back and forth across the room, trying to find something to distract her mind. She knew a way to help Joly, but it was not a path she was in a hurry to go down. She sincerely hoped Enjolras would come up with a better idea.

The silence of the night was broken by the sound of something dropping on the floor in Enjolras's room, closely followed by a muttered curse. Frowning, Eponine padded across the living room to his door and opened it.

"Enjolras, are you…" Her words were cut off as she gasped in astonishment. Enjolras stood in only his trousers, his braces hanging loosely at his hips. His shirt was discarded on the bed. Eponine's eyes flew to the floor before Enjolras could look at her.

"Damn it," Enjolras repeated, a dark red blush colouring his cheeks and nose. He dove onto the floor to try and retrieve the bandage that had rolled across the room and unravelled at Eponine's feet.

With one swift movement, she caught it in her hand and held it out to him. He hesitated before taking it from her.

She wanted to leave, but she was rooted to the spot by her own feelings of awkward embarrassment. It wasn't that she was a proper lady who had never seen a man's bare chest before. She had little modesty to be offended. It was more her own reaction to the sight that was secretly humiliating her—the familiar heat that ran down her spine.

She risked another glace at him and saw he was clumsily trying to bandage the cut just below his right shoulder. It was enough to chase away any lingering desire she felt and replace it with sympathy. A small giggle escaped her lips at the hilarity of the whole situation. Their eyes met for the first time since she had walked in, and the tension around them melted away.

"Would you like some help?" she smiled, taking a step into the room.

He hesitated, and Eponine noticed the dark bags under his eyes. The day must have taken its toll on him as well. She felt a rush of tender affection for her poor serious boy, who always had taken everything too much to heart.

"Come on. It'll only take me a moment."

He nodded his consent, and Eponine crossed the room, retrieving the bandage from his hand. Her own hands, to her embarrassment, were shaking as she faced the prospect of touching his bare skin. She placed a wad of cloth against the cut and pressed one end of a bandage against it, holding it in place with her left hand, her little finger suspended at a strange angle to prevent it from touching him.

She leaned forward to wrap the bandage around his chest. It was broad, and in order to wrap the bandage around, she had to stretch across until her head was almost tucked under his chin. Her mind betrayed her by imagining what it would feel like to wrap her other arm around him and bury her head into his shoulder. She shocked herself by how much she wanted to lose herself in his embrace. She fumbled her way through, winding the bandage around two more times, trying to ignore the heat that was prickling through her veins. She tied it off and stepped back, putting as much distance between them as possible.

He looked at her curiously, and the way his blue eyes pierced hers made her certain that he could read her thoughts. He retrieved his shirt from the back of the chair and threw it over his head.

Eponine pulled her shawl tighter around herself and cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I would be if you put on a cravat or something; I've seen enough of your chest to last me a life time, she thought, eyeing the open buttons of his shirt.

"I'm fine," was all she said.

"Why are you up? It's nearly midnight."

"Couldn't sleep. I heard you still up, so I..."

"You need to sleep Eponine, after the day you've had."

"Yes, well, tell that to my brain."

He walked swiftly towards her, and for a wild moment she thought he was going to take her in his arms and kiss her. Her heart fluttered madly against her chest. He walked past her, though, and out into the hall, and she tried to pretend she didn't feel slightly disappointed.

He paused and turned back to her. "Are you coming?"

Springing into action, she followed him into the living room, where he was attempting to light Musichetta's stove.

"What are you doing?"

"Warm milk," he smiled, "an old trick of Joséphine's for when I couldn't sleep as a boy."

She perched herself on the window seal and tucked her feet beneath her. For a while she was content to watch the moon outside. Her mind felt relaxed—the worries of the day were suddenly less prominent in her mind.

She was already feeling sleepy by the time Enjolras pressed the warm mug into her hand. She smiled at him gratefully. He sat on the chair nearest the window, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he blew the hot steam from the top of his own mug.

"Are you ok?" Eponine asked, recalling the dark bags under his own eyes.

"Never better," he said dryly.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Enjolras."

"I never claimed to be a witty man." The smile that crept onto his lips and was mirrored by her own.

"But Joly is alive. You must feel something."

"I've spent the last week wishing that it would have been me instead of my friends. Now I have a chance to put things right."

"You have a plan, then?"

"Not so much a plan—more of an idea. It might help us get Joly out, but it won't help Azelma."

"Zelma's not as tough as me. She's too good for the life that she has been forced to live. She won't like it—hell, I don't like it—but she's been in this situation before and survived. In fact, she's probably safer there. The Patron-Minette cannot get to her," she said, shuddering at the thought. Enjolras raised an enquiring eyebrow, but she did not want to reveal the humiliating fact that her father sold her and Azelma like cattle. Thankfully he did not ask her any further questions. "Her life is not in danger, but Joly's is. If you can get him out, that has to be priority. Azelma would want that too."

"You are certain?" he asked.

She nodded firmly.

"That settles it then. I will go down to the courthouse first thing in the morning."

"You can't go down there! What if someone recognises you?"

"Actually, that would be even better. It would be easier then to convince them to exchange Joly for me."

"Are you insane?! Enjolras, you can't do that."

"I must. It's the only way. I will speak with Musichetta before I go." He sighed. "You don't need me to keep going. You have a good basic knowledge of sewing. If she teaches you, then you may be able to get a job alongside her at the dress makers. I will make sure you are looked after, Eponine."

"As if I care for that!" Eponine scoffed. "If you think I will let you do this, then you are mad!"

"Do you have a better plan?"

Eponine's stomach churned. "Yes, I do."

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. Eponine bit her lip, but continued. "It's not the best plan, but it's better than yours, at least."

Was she really going to do this? She knew what the consequences would be. She had sworn she would never allow herself to be in debt to a member of the Patron-Minette, especially not Montparnasse. But she couldn't allow Enjolras to hand himself over. She couldn't let him do that—not when she had only just got him back into her life. She wouldn't allow him to leave.

"We moved to Paris because my father became associated with the Patron-Minette."

She could tell he was shocked by this, although he tried to keep his face impassive. Nevertheless, she saw the way his brow twitched and his lips pursed together at her words.

"Why did he not just open another inn?" he asked.

"He couldn't. We fell into debt in Montfermeil—he fell into debt. It hadn't been the first time, but he usually found a way to talk his way out of payments he couldn't afford. I'm not entirely sure what happened this time, though. I have always assumed he borrowed money from the wrong person. All I ever heard my parents say was that 'that man' was to blame. My father was so afraid of him, he moved to Paris and started going by Jondrette instead of Thenardier. He couldn't get respectable work, in case he was discovered, and so he found his way to the Patron-Minette. That is how I ended up the way I was when I first met you again."

Eponine's heart sank slightly at the deep frown that creased his brow. She was certain she had lost any of the respect he might still have held for her by telling him that. And yet, she would make as many sacrifices as were necessary in order to protect him.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked, finally speaking.

"I could use my connections to help us save Joly. I have a good friendship with Montparnasse," she lied, "and he would help us, for a price."

"Money is no object. It's about the only thing my father's ever been good for."

Eponine smiled. For all his intelligence and grand ideas, Enjolras was incredibly naive to the ways of the world. He didn't seem to realise that where she came from, life was a game that everybody cheated at. Montparnasse may be able to be bought with money, but if he wasn't, there would be a higher price to pay.

"I shall arrange to meet with him tomorrow."

Enjolras drained the last of his drink and stood. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Enjolras." She turned to leave, but he caught her hand and held it for a brief moment, effectively catching her attention. She turned at his touch; his own hand now hung uncomfortably in the air between them.

"What you said about Azelma being too good…" he began awkwardly.

"Yes?"

"You are as well. You are too good for the life you have had to lead."

"Isn't everyone?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Yes, but you especially, Eponine," Enjolras said earnestly. "You are one of the few truly good people I have ever known. I am glad you are my friend."

"As am I," she said with a smile as she returned to her room.

As she lay her head down on the pillow, her mind was more troubled than when she had left bed. She felt confused by feelings that she could not understand. Her body, though, had finally used the last of its remaining energy and her eyes grew heavy. In spite of everything that had happened, she was soon asleep.

AN2 – Hope you liked the kind of fluff

In case you didn't know I've started an AU modern E&E story based on a picture from Tumblr that I couldn't get out of my head. I've never done this before so it's completely new ground. If you want to check it out it's called Wishful Words. But never fear, it is a sub story to this one which will continue to be my main priority!