Chapter 13

"I'm not staying here," Gavroche crossed his arms and pursed his lips defiantly at his flustered sister. The sun filtered in through the small window in Enjolras's flat, catching bits of the boy's golden hair here and there. Eponine was sure that her friend wouldn't mind if Gavroche spent the evening here, away from the barricade. Outside, she could hear the slow beginnings of the funeral march. She had to get down there.

"You will not leave, do you understand?" she gripped the boy's shoulders fiercely.

"Why can't I fight with everyone else?" he pouted.

"If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself. You have to stay here, Gavroche,"

The blonde eyed her menacingly, but allowed her a small nod as a huge sigh escaped his mouth. He flopped onto the cot in the corner, still unmade from last night's turn of events. Eponine lingered a moment in the room, wishing that she did not have to go. The flat seemed so empty without its large supply of weaponry. Enjolras's books still lay strewn about the table, his bottom dresser drawer still slightly opened, his night shirt still draped across the back of a wooden chair. The apartment was so lived in, but there was no man who had done the living. Perhaps that was the strangest part of all.

Eponine sucked in a breath, allowing the scent of parchment and melted wax to fill her before kneeling down beside her brother.

"I've got to go. Stay here," she kissed him lightly on the forehead and tapped his brown cap down so that it covered his eyes. The boy smiled and playfully returned it to its rightful position, grinning up at the brunette.

"Love you, 'Ponine," he said.

The girl stood up and headed for the door.

"Love you too, Gav,"

As soon as she heard the click of the wood shutting behind her, Eponine ran down the stairs and out the bakery. The funeral had begun. People were everywhere, crowding the streets like swarms of insects just waiting for something to happen. The girl raced back to the square where she had left Grantaire, hoping to find him before the battle began. There was no sense in being angry with someone today, especially the sad man who knew nothing but longing.

"Watch it, boy!" someone spat as she accidentally slammed into a tall, uniformed figure. She had nearly forgotten how she was dressed.

"Désolé," Eponine murmured and continued to run without meeting the man's eyes. She didn't get very far before a hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her back. Inspector Javert peered down at the girl, his gray eyes critical and his head held even higher than usual.

"Thénardier," he hissed. Apparently her disguise had not been as shielding as she had hoped.

"Inspector," Eponine managed to get the word out, but could not hold the man's gaze. She was too busy searching the crowds for Grantaire's black curls, not even hoping to find Enjolras's blonde ones. Suddenly, a memory from earlier that day surfaced.

Stay here, he said.

No, Enjolras-

I will not lose you. The man had wiped the stale tears from her cheeks, seemingly more determined than ever.

But last night, we said…we said we'd fight together.

That was stupid. It's far too dangerous. Promise me you'll stay here.

Like you promised me you wouldn't leave? The girl returned harshly.

Stop it. Promise me, Eponine.

She had stared at him for a moment, taking in his fierce grimace and marble demeanor. It was something of a drug, she realized. The very idea of the young revolutionary was addictive; fiery passion locked inside of a strong statue that still appeared to feel as most men feel; weak, protective, scared. He was everything all at once. It was then that Eponine realized that she wanted to make this man happy, in all of his complicated glory. So she obliged, granting him a small nod, much as Gavroche had later granted her.

I promise.

Now the girl stood impatiently in the policeman's grip, not wanting to cause any trouble in running away, but not having the time to be stopped by inquisitive authority figures.

"May I ask why you've graced us all with this lovely display?" Javert ran his eyes up and down the girl coldly. A hungry glint shimmered in his pale gray irises.

"Please, Monsieur, I have to go," Eponine pleaded.

"Ah, I'm sure you do," the man dug his fingers deeper into her arm. "Can't be missing the fun, now can we?"

The Jondrette girl was sure she had caught a glimpse of Grantaire's black mane, but it quickly disappeared in the throng of citizens mourning the loss of the General.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Monsieur,"

"Yes you do, you filthy gamine. Your friends are playing their little freedom game today, and you're on your way to help them. Isn't that right?" he leaned in so that his ominous figure was blocking out the sun and Eponine could nearly feel his stubble brush against her ear. "Take me to them," he whispered.

"Wh-what?" she trembled.

"Take me to the barricade,"

"I-I don't know what-" she stammered. Javert shook her sharply.

"Stop lying to me, Thénardier. I've got more reasons than you can count to throw you in jail. If I were you, I couldn't be too careful,"

Just then an enormous crash sounded from across the square. Both the Inspector and the girl snapped their heads towards the noise, finding that a piano had fallen to the pavement and was being mimicked by numerous other articles of furniture. Tables, chairs, armoires, nightstands, coat racks, even coffins were plummeting from nearby windows as people yelled from the streets.

Chaos ensued. Women grabbed at children, rushing them indoors. Men snatched at weapons and shouted across to each other, running to and fro between the masses of people who simply did not know what was going on. Some began to throw the fallen furniture into a pile at the end of the street, creating an ever growing wall that towered high above the heads of those who were building it.

"I spoke too soon," the Inspector smiled and let go of the girl's arm. He stood up straight and removed a cockade from the inside of his jacket, fastening it stiffly to the front of his uniform. "I'll see you at the barricade, my girl,"

Eponine could only watch him disbelievingly for a moment before she was pushed along by the crowds around her. She didn't know what the man was planning on doing, but she knew she had to get to les amis de l'ABC before he did. Her ample feet wove her easily between the rushes, guiding her to the barricade as if on instinct.

The girl's heart sped when she saw Enjolras's familiar figure throwing chairs atop the growing pile. His back was to her, red jacket gleaming in the afternoon heat, golden locks glinting white in the sun. Eponine quickly retreated to the shadows of the buildings. She had to find a way to warn him about the Inspector without letting him see that she had disobeyed him.

It's not as if he owns me, she thought to herself. We kissed. That hardly means I'm under his control. If I gave myself to every man who put his lips on mine, I'd be miserable. She was just about to reveal everything and run up to him when she remembered the look on his face as he had waited for her promise. It was the first time she had ever seen any hint of a plea in his marble features. She had been so overcome with her desire to fulfill that plea that she had lied to him, letting him believe what she had no intentions of doing, simply to put his heart at rest. How could she ruin all that now?

Eponine frantically searched for a solution. It was then that Grantaire appeared, slinking about the outskirts of the barricade with a gun hanging loosely from his hand. He was watching Enjolras, just as the girl had been only moments earlier. She felt a pang in her chest as she thought back on the night's romantic activities, realizing how horrible Grantaire would feel if he ever found out. She had known about the boy's feelings and chose to ignore them, thinking only of herself in a rash instant of self indulgence. She had no time to examine her motives or her conscience, though. Not now. Eponine snatched at the man's arm and pulled him into the shade of the storefront.

"Grantaire," she said quietly. She didn't have to whisper as one could barely hear a shout amongst the growing chaos.

"Wha-what?" his words were even more slurred than earlier that afternoon. He had brandy on his breath. "Who're you?"

"It's me, Eponine. I need to you to tell Enjolras something for me,"

The drunk lulled at the sound of the leader's name. He peered down at the girl gripping his arm.

"Why can't y-you do it?"

"I'm not supposed to be here. I promised him I wouldn't come," she explained. Grantaire's face fell noticeably.

"He's protecting you," he stated sadly. "R-right,"

"No, no not at all," One more lie wouldn't hurt. "He said I'd just get in the way. Can't work a gun to save my life, I'd probably end up hurting one of our own,"

The black haired youth seemed to brighten at the idea, though it did not fully satisfy him.

"I need you to tell him that Javert is coming, though. I ran into him just now and he's on his way here. You need to warn Enjolras right now," she pleaded, shaking the boy lightly when he continued to stare off at the passionate revolutionary.

"Who's J-Javert?" he slurred, dazed.

"The Inspector! Inspector Javert!" It seemed that he was not as infamous within other circles. Eponine had no time to waste explaining this to an intoxicated man, though. She gave him a small push back into the light of the streets. "Please, Grantaire! Please go!"

Once he seemed well on his way towards Enjolras, Eponine scurried off into the thick of the chaos. If she was going to break her promise, she might as well contribute something worth breaking.