I don't own any of this any more than I did when I wrote the last chapter.
And then, abruptly, the man is gone, and Enjolras witnesses his world expand back to its entirety before focusing on Eponine, still on the floor beside him, unconscious.
He forces himself to think past the pain of all his cuts and bruises. Kneeling beside her, he feels for her pulse, which is so steady he realizes instantly that she's lulled herself into a meditative state.
He turns his head in time to see a well-dressed gray-haired gentleman pin Eponine's masked attacker to the wall. Enjolras watches, shocked and silent, as the gentleman lets the rapist go. Montparnasse, as he will later learned the masked man is called, runs.
The man rubs a hand across his forehead, weariness clear in the gesture, before meeting Enjolras' eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be a Monsieur Enjolras, would you?"
He blinks. "The same."
"My daughter described you to me. She speaks very highly of you." The man's eyes crinkle when he smiles.
Something clicks. "Cosette…"
"Cosette is my daughter, yes." Monsieur Fauchelevent says no more, instead bending over Eponine. As Enjolras did, he feels for a pulse, takes in the bloodstains on the girl's skirt. "I don't live far from here. We'll take her to my place. She may need a doctor."
"She's afraid of doctors," he says suddenly. As soon as he's spoken he realizes his words aren't true. She's not afraid, but ashamed. He feels his shocked numbness melting away, replaced by a now-familiar mix of anger, hopelessness, and hatred.
Fauchelevent only nods, seeming to sense the truth. "I think, then, that you and I and Cosette can manage between us."
…
Enjolras' first thought upon seeing the Fauchelevent home on Rue Plumet is that Eponine will love the place. She belongs there, somehow, among the mystery and duskiness of the overgrown garden, the low cottage. He realizes, quite suddenly, just how lucky he and Eponine are that Monsieur Fauchelevent stumbled upon them when he did.
Cosette opens the door, eyes wide at the sight of the broken body in her father's arms. The gentleman murmurs a few words to her, and she composes herself instantly, nodding and moving inside.
They bring her into the spare room, and then Cosette shoos out both men so that she can tend to Eponine, who fights her way back to consciousness just as Cosette is sponging the mud off her face.
"Julien?" Eponine's voice forces out the first two syllables but can't quite manage the third.
"Eponine, it's me. Cosette." A beat. "Alouette."
Eponine blinks, groans, and sits up, ignoring Cosette's restraining hand. "Where am I?"
"My home. Papa and Monsieur Enjolras brought you here," Cosette says quietly, soaking her sponge in a basin again. "You had a rough night."
"I remember." Eponine shakes her head. "I have to leave. I'm endangering you—'Parnasse will find me, my father will be furious, he was furious I left—"
Cosette laughs lightly. "Knowing Papa, I'd say that we'll be just fine." She pauses. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." Her voice breaks. "Just a little tired."
Cosette forces her to lie down again with a gentle nudge to the shoulder. "Rest."
…
Downstairs, Enjolras and Fauchelevent converse in low voices. Enjolras' brow is furrowed and it's only with considerable effort that he keeps himself from gaping like an idiot.
"A—a convict—but…"
"I need you to know who you're leaving the young lady with. And I think it's best if she stay here for a while. Cosette can care for her."
"I'd like to take her back with me once she's a little stronger…" He stops once he realizes how that sounds. "It wouldn't be proper, would it?" If he's going to do this, he's going to do this the right way. Eponine deserves options. "I'd be happy to accept your offer."
"I'm glad to hear it. She will…"
Cosette flits down the stairs, and both men fall silent.
…
When Eponine wakes up, moonlight is leaking through the half-open shutters and turning the shadowed shapes of the furniture into things foreign and frightening.
It takes her a minute to realize it was the opening of a door that woke her.
He's standing beside her, ostentatious is his red jacket among the dulled colors of the room.
"Julien?"
He shifts guiltily upon seeing her awake. "I wanted to make sure you were alright," he whispers.
A hazy smile. "Thank you," she murmurs. "For everything."
"There's no need for that. Just promise me you won't go back there again."
She nods, and then, shakily, she extends her hand towards him, an invitation. He reaches out to wrap his fingers around her slim, cold ones.
"When I was…being attacked…" She coughs and her voice fades. "The other times, I used to imagine…he was Marius. It made…it easier. But not this time. I was glad…he was with Cosette…" Another cough. "He would never have been able to handle 'Parnasse. He would never be able…to handle me. I…I knew you would come."
He wraps his arms around her and lets her cry into his shoulder. This time, when he falls asleep next to her, it's with his hands twined around one of hers.
…
He visits her daily. She smiles every time he walks through the door. Every day he learns a little more about her. She heals, both inside and outside, and begins to show off her long-suppressed wit. Her laugh, he learns, sound like ringing bells.
She's come to a sort of turning point about Marius. She's not ready to love him yet, he knows, but she's inching her way towards him. And she's found friends in Cosette and her gentle father.
He's willing to wait. Seeing her reasonably happy is enough.
…
After several weeks, two coinciding events change everything. Courfeyrac greets Enjolras at the café one Saturday morning with the news of Lamarque's death. And when he visits Eponine the next day, he's told she's sick.
"Sick?" He tries to keep the panic out of his voice.
There's a line etched between Cosette's eyebrows, so it must be bad. She rushes to reassure him, asks him to come back tomorrow.
…
"Eponine?"
"Go away," Eponine moans, as Cosette hovers uncertainly at the entrance to the bathroom. "Please."
"Eponine."
The girl just wipes the vomit from her face with a borrowed handkerchief.
"Eponine, I…"
"Don't say anything, Cosette, just don't."
Cosette's face is awash with sympathy. The pity stings, but not nearly as much as the truth.
Eponine begins to cry, lost little sobs she tries to conceal by clamping her hands to her face. Cosette hugs her, looking for words of comfort that can't be found.
Eponine makes use of a few choice swear words. Finally she just comes out and says it, hoping it will ease the weight of the worry on her shoulders. It doesn't.
"I'm carrying that damned violeur's child."
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