A/N – Hello everyone! Did you think I had forgotten about you? Never! I just want to reassure you all that I would never abandon a story half way through! But I have been really crazy busy this month because we moved house. Also my last chapter got a bit of a rubbish response review wise (I know there have been some problems with the review button) but it just made me lose my muse with this story for a little while BUT its back with a vengeance. I've got next chapter written and the next three skeleton planned so hopefully I will be able to upload much quicker!

Thank you SusannaLovesRowling and Fanpire101 for your help with this chapter! And also GPRox for putting some really love reviews up whilst I was on a mini hiatus & of course to all my regular reviewers, you are the ones that keep me writing and you're reviews mean a lot to me. Anyway I'll shut up now and get on with the story….

Chapter Twenty – Notre Dame

The Notre Dame rose stately and imposing in the darkening skyline. On nights when she had not been able to return home for various reasons, Eponine had often stood outside and admired the sacred building. She liked the way it looked as if it would stand forever. The image had always been able to comfort her, but not this time. She tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that ran down her spine as she made her way inside.

The large doors and tall arched ceilings only intensified Eponine's feelings of smallness that she tried to ignore. She had spent her entire life hiding behind a façade of confidence, but now she felt vulnerable and did not like it.

Her shrewd dark eyes scanned her surroundings: the newly risen moon sent its glow through the stained glass windows, showering the darkness with colourful shards of light. Montparnasse was nowhere in sight.

She slipped onto a pew at the back. Although shrouded in shadow, she still pulled her cap down over her face. Her fingers twiddle with the fabric of her breeches as she tried not to think what would happen if Montparnasse didn't turn up or refused to help. He had been right when he told her that she would need him eventually. Everything rested on his agreeing to help; it was the only way Eponine could stop Enjolras from handing himself over, the thought of which, she had found, cut her to her core.

Soft sobbing broke through her consciousness. She looked up—two women were making their way down the aisle toward her. She had not seen them when she had first entered; they must have been at the front.

Eponine sunk back into her seat as they approached, not wanting to be noticed. Something about one of the approaching figures caused her to sit up and take a look. She almost missed her, as she was dressed in black instead of her usual pale pastel colours. The dark veil draped down from the tip of her bonnet to her waist was meant to hide her face from prying gazes, but her blue eyes shone through it and were unmistakeable—Cosette.

Cosette paused in her graceful progress as she reached the end of Eponine's pew. For a heartbeat, Eponine thought she had been spotted, but Cosette simply lifted the veil to dab at her red eyes with a handkerchief before moving on. She looked as if she had been crying for years.

"Come now, Cosette," cajoled the plump lady that walked beside her. "He wouldn't have wanted you to be sad."

"I know, I just miss him so much," Cosette sighed as they passed through the cathedral doors and out of sight.

Eponine stared after them for some time after they had gone. She should have felt jealous that Cosette was allowed to mourn Marius even though she had barely known him. She should have felt guilty that her tears had dried up before Cosette's. But instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of pity. Cosette deserved Marius and she had lost him.

Eponine felt a tear roll down her cheek. She caught it with her finger tips and held it before her eyes. She needed confirmation of what she felt in her heart. She was crying—not for Marius, but for Cosette. With a blinding force, she had realised what it would feel like to lose someone you truly loved, and it was not Marius whom she pictured—it was Enjolras.

The realisation, once it hit her, spread rapidly through her heart and mind. Suddenly everything made sense: the confusion she had been feeling around him for the past two days, the way her heart had started to leap slightly when he entered the room. Her very own serious boy—she loved him! Her infatuation with Marius had taken root and grown because he was a wealthy young man and she had hoped to replace the friend she had lost. She understood with a shuddering force that she would do anything to protect him. She needed him – good god, how had this happened? She loved everything about him, perhaps she always had.

She stood up, her eyes blinking back tears as she desperately searched the darkening cathedral for any sign of Montparnasse. He had to come now. Everything rested on Eponine making a deal with him. If she didn't, she would lose Enjolras again, when she had only just truly found him and realised what he meant to her. If he sacrificed himself for Joly, it would kill her.

She spotted Montparnasse as soon as he entered; a sly smile curved across his face when he saw her waiting. Eponine was able to wipe away her tears before he got near enough to see them.

"I thought you would not come," she said.

"Why wouldn't I? I told you that you would need me eventually. Did you think that I would not come when you called?" he asked, sliding onto the pew next to her.

"I thought you may not have received my note."

"I was waiting for it," he grinned. "Shall we take a walk outside?"

"No," she said quickly. "I like it in here."

"Fine. So, about Azelma…"

"No, not Azelma," she shook her head sadly.

A look of genuine amazement passed across Montparnasse's face, quickly followed by one of malicious joy. He slid his arm around her waist. "Ponine, you cannot mean to tell me you called me here purely to see me."

"No, I didn't," she said, sliding away from his touch.

"What, then?" he asked, a dark sneer distorting his handsome features.

"I need your help to get someone out of jail. Not Azelma—someone else."

"Who?" Parnasse snapped.

"A friend of mine. He was involved in the rebellion."

"No!" he roared, his voice echoing round the cathedral. "I will not help you rescue one of your bloody bourgeois, Eponine!"

He was up and was striding away in an instant. Eponine's only chance was walking out the door, and she scampered desperately after him.

"Parnasse! Parnasse, please!" she cried, tugging on his sleeve. "You have to help me. You're my only hope!"

"Why, Eponine?" he demanded, spinning around and catching hold of the tops of her arms. His eyes searched hers. She wasn't sure if he looked desperate or mad. "Why?" he repeated angrily. "So you can run off with your student and pretend that you're better than the rest of us? You think you're so bloody clever, but you're not! You are scum, just like me—just like all of us. No one cares about us and no one cares about you, except me! Do you realise that, Eponine! You belong to me; I bought you from your father with the blood I shed. Do you know that? So if you think I'm going to help you save this guy, you're mad."

"No! Parnasse, you have it all wrong," she said soothingly, her mind racing to work out the best plan of action. "He's not even my friend, I hardly know him. I only want to get him out for Musichetta. She's a friend of mine who looked after me when I needed help. She's a good person and she loves him, so I said I knew someone who could get him out. I told her I knew the most cunning criminal in all of Paris. Plus, she will pay you."

Parnasse's angry features softened at her praise. "I don't want money, Eponine. I want what I'm owed. I want you." he said softly.

Eponine's heart sank with resignation. "I know," she whispered.

~X~

Impatience twitched through Enjolras's limbs as he paced fretfully, waiting for Musichetta and Joly to finish. Musichetta clung desperately to Joly's hand through the bars when the time came to leave. Reluctant to be parted from him again, she waited to the very last second before turning and climbing the railings. Enjolras helped her down, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she turned longingly to stare at the building that housed her beloved. She would have stayed there all night if he had not reminded her that Eponine was waiting for them.

He cast a furtive glance at her now as she strode beside him, her face resolute. He had no doubt that given half a chance she would have scaled the walls of La Concerige and broken into jail if it meant she could be with Joly.

Such a selfless, devoted love was a world away from what he had learnt of such things during his early life. His Grandparents' marriage was cold and money-orientated; his own parents' was selfish, his mother had suffered because his father had not been able to marry the woman he chose.

It had never occurred to him until that moment that it could perhaps be a wonderful thing, as well. He had thought that love was something a sane man did his best to avoid, but now he wondered if that was really true. Love like Musichetta's for Joly was something to be admired and treasured. To love another person more than oneself showed strength of character, not weakness.

He wondered what it would feel like to be as devoted to another person as Marius had been to Cosette, to the exclusion of all he had previously thought important. As he approached the large Cathedral where Eponine was waiting, he wondered how it would feel to be willing to die for someone like she had been for Marius. What would it feel like if she had been willing to die for him instead?

His body and mind's sharp reaction to the image unsettled him and he shook it away. He turned to Musichetta.

"We both know the reputation of the Patron-Minette. It would be best if he didn't see you. If you are happy to, I would suggest you wait here whilst I fetch Eponine."

Musichetta nodded, happy to be left alone with her thoughts for the time being. Enjolras proceeded inside.

His eyes began to search the ancient building for Eponine's familiar form. He spotted her quickly, her face patterned by the pink glow from a stained glass window above her. She did not notice his approach, as she was staring intently into the shadows before her. A young man, he assumed Montparnasse, stepped out of the shadow and placed himself barely inches away from her. Enjolras couldn't tell if the action was intimate or intimidating, but either way he hurried in his approach.

"And when this is done?" the dark eyed youth questioned her.

"When this is done, I will leave with you," she replied.

Enjolras stopped dead in his tracks. Had she really just said that? His feet felt suddenly rooted to the floor.

The young man had taken hold of Eponine's wrists. "We will be so happy, 'Ponine. I've wanted this for so long." He bent his head over hers and placed a harsh kiss on her lips. Enjolras felt his stomach plummet when she did not pull away.

"And what about your other friend?" the youth sneered, not releasing his grip on her wrists.

"Enjolras is unimportant. My only interest is in helping Musichetta."

"So you have no qualms with abandoning him?"

Enjolras heart was thundering against his ribs. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

"No. He abandoned me before, when I needed him most. His revolution killed my brother. He is no friend of mine—I hate him."

"Then why did you help him from the barricade?" Montparnasse asked, taking the words straight from Enjolras's mouth.

She rolled her eyes, "He's rich, 'Parnasse. I know what side my bread is buttered on; I'm not a fool. Thought I'd try charming some money out of him, but my allures had no effect."

"You are a bad girl. They have an effect on me," Montparnasse chuckled, wrapping his arms around her.

Ice stabbed through Enjolras's heart and quickly spread its way across his skin. To his consternation, he thought he might be sick. The world which had been so stable when he had entered the Notre Dame suddenly felt as if it had shaken and crumbled around him. Eponine, his secret shelter during his childhood years and again when the barricade had fallen, had been ripped away from him with a force he was not prepared for. Had everything she had told him been a lie?

The young couple before him looked about to embrace again. He cleared his throat, preventing the action and drawing their attention to his presence.

Eponine jumped when she saw him; her eyes widened and her face visibly paled. She moved sideways, quickly putting distance between herself and the man beside her. She looked pleadingly at him, but he couldn't stand to look at her, so he turned his attention to the young man at her side.

"This is Montparnasse. He has agreed to help us," she said, noticing who he was focusing on. He could hear the hitch in her voice that she tried to disguise.

"Where is the girl, then?" Montparnasse asked, his arm snaking round Eponine's shoulders. In spite of everything, Enjolras's instinct was still to tell him to stop mauling the girl.

"Musichetta is waiting in the lobby," he replied coolly.

Montparnasse meet Enjolras's assessing gaze with one of his own. Enjolras kept his features in a carefully practised bored expression, not allowing any of the emotions he was feeling to show. He did not glance at Eponine, no matter how tempting it was to see her reaction.

Montparnasse shuffled slightly but didn't drop his gaze. For what seemed like an age, the two young men stood silently sizing each other like two lions waiting to see who pounced first. It was bordering on ridiculous, when finally with a small nod at his blonde adversary, Montparnasse turned to Eponine.

"I will assess the situation and leave instructions for you in the Tavern by the day after tomorrow."

Eponine's face was expressionless as she agreed to the arrangement. It remained unmoving when Montparnasse landed another sloppy kiss on her lips before stalking out of the building, pausing to cast a final scornful glance at Enjolras before leaving.

With a great effort against an inner pain that he did not fully understand, Enjolras finally met Eponine's eyes. She opened her mouth several times as if to speak but no sound came out. All the while, Enjolras stood and said nothing. He could see her discomfort, but he chose to do nothing to lessen it.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed, her voice coming out as a small whisper.

He scoffed and shook his head, turning on his heel to leave. He could hear her quick footsteps rushing up behind him.

"Enjolras, wait."

He stopped.

"You have to understand. I never, never wanted you to hear that. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." The tears filling up her dark eyes tugged at his heart, but he shoved the feeling aside. He had learnt a harsh lesson that evening: giving into emotions, letting people close, only led to pain.

"Don't concern yourself. I am unimportant."

She blinked rapidly as if his words had struck her like a physical blow. He felt suddenly exhausted, his limbs were leaden and his head was throbbing, and he tried to comprehend everything that had happened in the past hour.

"Eponine," he said slowly, "you should have just told me how you felt. You should have just been honest with me."

She cast her eyes to the floor, her fingers twirling the button on the top of her breaches. Her voice came out in a muffled whisper. "That's exactly the problem. I can't."

He let out a long sigh—he had nothing left to say to her. "Musichetta is waiting."

She nodded and trailed behind him as they began to make their way home.