Chapter 11

Eponine woke shivering. Upon opening her eyes and finding an empty cot save for a few thin blankets, she immediately began to prepare herself for the cold, harsh reality that she had simply dreamed up the entire night. She sat up, rubbing her eyes of the sleep that still collected there and stretching her arms. She had always had the uncanny ability to imagine lives much better than her own. This wouldn't be the first time that it had gotten out of hand.

"Bonjour ma belle amie," the distinct tone of Enjolras's smooth voice jumped from the corner. Eponine snapped her head over to the man, who was seated at the table with two cups of milk and a plate of hot buns lying in front of him. The scent of warm bread filled the girl's head, nearly causing her to drool before she caught herself.

"Enjolras," the name rolled of her tongue like a sigh.

"How are you?" he asked, granting her a tiny smile. She rose from the bed and sat down across from the boy, eyeing the buns hungrily.

"Quite well, thank you. And you, monsieur?"

Enjolras looked down as he tried to keep a smirk from his lips. Lips that, Eponine realized, had been attached to hers only hours earlier. The thought satisfied her, but the smirk had the opposite effect.

"Was it something I said?" she nervously asked.

"No, no. I'm fine," he laughed lightly, passing her a bun. The girl accepted it with gracious hands and started picking it apart immediately, but would not let the subject go.

"Well now you must tell me," she urged in between bites. This had to be the most delicious breakfast she had ever had.

"It's silly," the smile faded but Enjolras's eyes remained aglow, soft blue that seemed to match the June sky that peaked through the window.

"All the more reason to tell me,"

"It's just that…you're so…beautiful. I noticed it when you were sleeping because you were so peaceful, but now I see that it's just you. In everything you do. You're so beautiful," he said, incredulous.

Eponine stopped mid-swallow and stared at him. Was he right in the head?

"Thank you, monsieur," she said softly, barely audible through the shock of such a compliment being paid to a gamine like herself.

"Must you always call me that?" Enjolras speculated, half annoyed and half bemused.

"Call you what?"

"'Monsieur' this, or 'Monsieur' that. I think we've reached the point in which you're allowed to call me by my name," he grinned.

"But you call me 'Mademoiselle'," Eponine pointed out, finishing off the last of her bun. The man across from her still had half of his left and seemed in no hurry to finish it. She bit her tongue to remind herself how unladylike she was being in the presence of a man who supposedly fancied her beautiful.

"That's different. It's a nickname. You call me 'monsieur' because you believe that I deserve it, that I'm a higher rank of human than you. It's not true, 'Ponine. We're the same, and I'd like to be treated as such," he said firmly.

"How did you-"

"I heard you explaining it to Combeferre," Enjolras sipped at his milk. "You're such a lovely little thing. So polite, yet so brave," The boy seemed to get lost in his own train of thought, not noticing the girl was blushing profusely across from him. This was no way for a young scholar to treat a street urchin, she thought. Apparently, he disagreed.

"Speaking of bravery," he said, shaking himself from his reverie, "We've a revolution today!" Enjolras jumped from his seat and walked to the dresser, where he briskly exchanged his night clothes for his cream shirt and black necktie. "The funeral procession is in an hour,"

Eponine's heart fell to her stomach. She may not have actually dreamt the previous evening, but she might as well have. How cruel, for life to finally lead her towards some glimmer of happiness, only to snatch it away from her within twenty four hour's time. She had nearly forgotten about the impending battle until the boy had mentioned it, and now all she could see were images of Enjolras's lifeless body among a hundred more. A tear escaped down her cheek as she pictured the man gone forever.

"Hey…" Enjolras knelt beside Eponine and wiped the tear from her face. "Hey, don't cry. This is good. This is what we've been preparing for,"

His eyes searched the girl's with such intensity that it took her slightly aback. She nodded her head meekly.

"I know. But now…now it's here," she whispered. Her almond eyes glistened with the threat of more tears, but none seemed brave enough to break free.

"Listen, it'll be okay," he smiled, but the girl could tell it was only an attempt to comfort her.

"You can't leave me,"

"Of course I won't," he assured, taking the girl in his arms. He held her for a minute before she pulled away, wide eyes staring at him fiercely.

"Promise me. Promise me you won't die today,"

"Eponine, I can't-"

"PROMISE ME!" The girl began to shake as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Enjolras loosened his grip and leaned back, as if he couldn't bear the sight of her so upset. Eponine pushed her face into her hands. Sobs caught in her throat and collected there, waiting for something to clear them out and discard them with the rest of the girl's hardships and struggles.

"Please," she cried desperately, "Please promise me, Enjolras,"

The man stared at her quietly. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were sad, no longer the blue of a sunny June sky but of a stormy sea, just waiting to be drowned in.

"I can't," he whispered.