2nd Semester

Eponine had that fabric of Grantaire's coat balled up in her fists to try and keep them from trembling. There wasn't a moment's hesitation from him when he found her convulsing in the the stairwell between the second and first floors, to gather her tiny frame up in his arms and haul her back to his apartment. He nearly dropped her fumbling around for his key, but she was gripping him so tightly she wouldn't have fallen anyway. He swore under his breath when he couldn't find it and pounded on Enjolras' door. There was no answer. Eponine felt ready to pass out.

Grantaire eventually produced a key from somewhere-Eponine was too delirious to notice-and let them into Enjolras' apartment. He tried to set her on the couch, but she wouldn't let go of him. Eventually he gave up and relinquished his coat to her.

"Did you take something? Pills, drugs, alcohol?"

She managed to shake her head slightly.

"Are you sure? I need you to be honest right now, it's fine if you did, just tell me."

Even through her delirium, Eponine could tell Grantaire was only playing at being calm. He was kneeling before her, fingers tapping nervously on his knee. His voice cracked a little whenever he reached the peak of a sentence. She wished he would stop, it was making her feel even worse.

"I need to know what's going on so I can help you!"

She shook her head again.

He took a armful of afghans and piled them on top of her. "If you're not better in 10 minutes, I'm taking you to the hospital."

She started to rock back and forth. Grantaire, the hospital, none of it could help her. Being alone would help. She needed to get out, but she couldn't find the strength or will to make her legs work.

Grantaire left for a moment and came back with a block of cheese. "He doesn't have any booze. Eat," he shoved it at her face, but she turned her head away. The thought of eating anything made her want to throw up. "How about-" he reached under the mountain of blankets and found his coat. "mints?" He held a couple of unwrapped lint-covered Olive Garden mints under her chin, as if expecting her to eat them out of his hand.

"Stop," she moaned.

"What do you want? Spaghetti? Tea?"

"Just go." She pulled the blankets up to her chin and shook, a wave of nausea crashing over her. Grantaire mistook her command to leave as a yes to the aforementioned spaghetti and tea. In the kitchen, she could already hear him rummaging around in the pantry for food. It was all she could do to keep her dry heaving quiet so he wouldn't call an ambulance.

"He only has green tea; do you want water?" The front door opened and Eponine pulled the blanket over her head in an attempt to go unnoticed. She was.

"Get out of my apartment, both of you."

Grantaire came out to meet him, sloshing about a plate of half-cooked noodles. "Thank gods, Enjolras. I need your help!"

"You're eating my food? Again? We talked about this!"

"No! No," he put the plate on the ground and held up his hands in surrender, "It's 'Ponine, I think she took something bad."

Eponine held the blankets tighter around herself. Enjolras was the last person who needed to see her like this. She tried to stop the trembling in her body to no avail. Gently, Grantaire tried to pull the afghans away, and when he couldn't Enjolras ripped them off. Eponine covered her neck instinctively and curled her knees into her chest.

"What happened, what did you do?" He made her sit up. Eponine started to hyperventilate, causing her limbs to go numb. "Stop, you'll pass out! Grantaire, get a bag." He took her hand away from her neck and sat back on his heels and hissed. Eponine started to dry heave again. "R?" He called little louder than necessary. "Where did you find her?"

"Bottom of the stairwell on the 1st floor." Grantaire came back without a bag.

"She said she lives with her boyfriend."

"Marius?"

"No, she never said. Eponine, who did this? Was it him?"

She rubbed her tingling hands on her numb thighs. Even if she was able to talk, she wouldn't. She gave Grantaire a meaningful look, hoping he would understand that she needed to leave.

"Do you know who it was?" Enjolras was speaking to Grantaire now.

"I told you all I knew! I didn't even see that until now!"

"How could you not? It looks like it came from rope." Enjolras touched the item of interest, a large red and purple bruise that encircled Eponine's neck. "Get some ice."

"Please," Eponine croaked, her voice hoarse from crying and being strangled. "Let me alone."

"What number do you live at? Is he still there?"

She was hiccuping from hyperventilating which turned into more dry heaving. "Just, stop."

"This is serious, I need to know who did this to you."

"No."

"Eponine-"

"No."

"EPONINE!" She shrunk back and blocked her head with her arms. "Please," he was whispering now in the kind of voice reserved for funerals and doctors offices.

"Me," she only mouthed it, but his face flooded with understanding.

"Don't lie."

"I just want to be done."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before getting up, pulling Grantaire with him. She put her head back and tried to calm her breath. The sound of her own blood pumping in her ears cocooned her until she heard something hit the wall. Probably Enjolras' fist. A muffled Grantaire warned him that he'd have to pay for the damage.

"YOU KNEW!" They were in the hallway now, their short, secret conversation over.

"I didn't think she was serious!"

Enjolras pushed Grantaire towards the door. "Everything's a joke to you, isn't it? Just get out."

"It's not like I told her to do it!"

"You didn't stop her either!"

Grantaire was standing in the doorway now, not quite far enough out for Enjolras to close the door. "Everyone wants to die, I didn't know there was anything to stop."

"You're sick."

"I know." Grantaire didn't wait for the door to be slammed in his face. He pretended to go back to his own apartment, presumably to sit outside the door for the rest of the night as he still didn't have a key to get in. Enjolras didn't watch long enough to notice. He shut the door and sat on the couch with Eponine. He was quiet for a long while, collecting himself, folding and unfolding his hands. The pattern would have been rhythmic and calming, had Eponine not been aware of the impending conversation.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Montparnasse came home too early and found me. He kicked me out. Said he didn't want police investigating any deaths around him," she knew that it wasn't the answer to the question he asked. Enjolras was interested in the events leading up to her attempted suicide rather than the ones proceeding it.

"Montparnasse? That's your boyfriend?"

She nodded, not bothering to correct him. Explaining her relationship with Montparnasse would be giving away the whole game, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Oh, Eponine."

"He's nice." She hated him, but he put up with her and put her up which was more than anyone else would have. He had hurt her mentally and physically, but she had known to expect that from him, and that was what mattered.

"He's dangerous."

"You just punched a hole in the wall." Her head was pounding. She didn't want to fight with Enjolras, or talk about what happened. She just wanted to be alone, or at the very least with people who didn't know who she was. Then they couldn't call her out on her mistakes.

He wrung his hands a while longer before, once again, approaching her on the subject he wanted to know most about. "Can you tell me why?"

Silence.

"Was it because of last night?"

"No."

"Is it because of Marius?"

She bowed her head so that she wouldn't have to look at his accusing eyes any longer. Marius was the tip of the iceberg, but not for the childish reasons he thought.

"Please. Let me help you."

"You can't help me." Her legs and hands were shaking again.

"What do you need?"

"For you to go away."

"I can't do that." She wasn't sure if he meant because she was in his apartment or if it was because he was afraid that if he left, she'd do something dangerous. It was surprising he hadn't called Combeferre for guidance yet. "Just tell me why you did it."

"How the hell is that supposed to help?" All of the anger she'd felt towards Montparnasse and her 'friends' came bubbling to the surface. If Enjolras thought that he could play therapist with her and everything would get all better, he was dead wrong. "I don't even want to be in the same room with you, because I know you're judging me. Every time you speak, every time you look at me, you make me remember everything, so just stop." She put her hands to her face with her thumbs hooked under her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

"I'm not judging you."

"You just told Grantaire he was sick for thinking everyone wants to die."

"Grantaire's not the same. He's doesn't seek death, but he'd be okay if he died. There's a huge difference."

"How do you know that's what he thinks?"

"I overheard him talking to Courf. That's exactly what he said, word for word. He's not like you. You're responsible and smart, and he doesn't give two shits about anything. So, why did you, of all people, try and..." he finished his sentence with a look of concern that Eponine hated.

"I'm not responsible and I'm not smart, and I hate it when you look at me like that."

"You study hard, and you work an ungodly amount of hours at that taco joint only to send all of your paychecks back home. Eponine, you're delusional if you think you aren't virtuous."

"I failed my tests, okay? I haven't heard from my siblings in months, and I was fired from that job because I took too much time off to study. I lost the scholarship because I'm an idiot, then my roommate threatened to call the cops on me out when she find my Les Amis button. I sold my goddamn soul to Montparnasse for a warm bed. Virtuous is the last fucking word I would use to describe my behaviour." She was rocking back and forth again, and couldn't stop hiccuping.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not-hic-your-hic-fault."

"You getting kicked out of your dorm is. I knew those pins were a stupid idea," he ran a hand through his hair. "How could you fail your tests? We spent days going over the material!"

"I'm an idiot-hic-remember?"

"You're not. I didn't mean it like that. I just- nevermind. Is that all? What happened with Montparnasse? Why didn't you come to one of us? We could have helped you!"

"Is that-hic-all?!" she fell into a brief period of hysterics which ended in crying. Her face was rubbed raw already from wiping away tears, but the crying had made her hiccups go away. "Montparnasse's reputation precedes him, and it's all true. Every word of it."

Enjolras' eyes grew wide. "Wait-"

"How could I have possibly gone to any of you for help? Are we even friends? If I'd told you about the failing thing back when it happened, you would have flipped. Plus I didn't have a job. How could I possibly expect any of you to support me? I'm not going to get hired again anytime soon. It was a godsend I even got hired at the shit place I did."

"Of course we would have helped you! Eponine, Les Amis de l'abc means The Friends of the Lower. When you're down and out, we're your friends the same as when you're not. You don't have to- to-"

"And now you're making me feel guilty about what I've done."

"You should feel bad! You tried to kill yourself!"

"Why? Because you don't want me to? Well, pardon me, I didn't realize this was all about you! None of you would have even noticed. None of you care. Everyone uses me. You, Marius, Montparnasse, you're all the same. So, don't sit there and tell me you'd have been there, because you weren't, and you wouldn't have."

"Eponine, you're important," he was starting to raise his voice. "How could you possibly think we wouldn't notice you'd left!"

"Last night was the first time I've seen you all semester! I've been missing for months, trapped in hell, and no one bothered to ask where I went. Don't lie to me. Don't try and make me feel ashamed. I don't matter to anyone, not to my family, not to the Amis, not to you. I just want it to be done. I quit."

Arguing was what he did best, but Enjolras seemed at a loss for words. He wanted to yell at her and tell she was being stupid and selfish, but that wouldn't help. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "We didn't mean to make it seem like we forgot you. You did so much for us first semester, I thought you wanted a break. I know you're not in this for the revolution. I didn't want you to feel like you had to stick with us until the very end. I thought I made that clear when you joined the Amis."

"I'm not part of the Amis. You don't need me."

"We do! You're - you're," he was fishing for words to tell her otherwise, but was failing. The dark circles under her eyes and around her neck kept distracting him. "You're funny, like Courfeyrac and Bossuet."

"So?"

"And wise like Combeferre, and obsessed with love like Jehan! You annoy the hell out of me like Marius and you fight with me more than Bahorel, you're headstrong like me, you work harder than Feuilly, and are sadder than Grantaire, and you know more about caring for wounds and drunkards than Joly."

"You don't need me. You have all those people already. I'm just your pity project."

"But you're also cunning and witty, and we need you, so stay with us. Don't you dare leave."

"I don't believe you."

"You will."

"Whatever."

"Do I need to take you to the ER?"

"No," she touched her neck. "There's nothing they can do."

"I didn't mean for your neck."

"I want to go back to Montparnasse's," the look on her face said otherwise. "See if I can beg for forgiveness."

"You don't need his forgiveness. You don't need him."

"What am I supposed to do then? It's not like I planned for this."

He pulled a couch pillow out from behind his back and tossed it to her. "For tonight. Tomorrow, I'll see if Musichetta still has that spare bed."

"You don't need to babysit me. You don't have to pretend like you care. It's fine."

"I'm not." He got up and dead-bolted the door. "I'm just helping. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"I never do anything I don't want to." He started down the hall as if to go to bed.

"Wait! Can you just- can you just stay here for a little while?" She didn't add that she was scared and didn't want to be alone.

"Absolutely." Taking a blanket from the pile she had pushed on the floor, he sat on the opposite end of the couch. "Is it okay if I turn on the TV? I hate silence."

"Please," as much as she didn't want to be alone, she also didn't want to talk about her botched suicide anymore. He couldn't find the remote anywhere though, which was the only way to turn it on. Instead, he settled for playing music from his phone. It must have been stuck on a Glenn Miller album though, because for ten minutes straight all they listened to was big band music. When 'A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square' came on, she heard him start to hum it quietly.

"I remember this song from high school. We sang it for the winter concert."

"Yup. Those were the days."

"Not really." The year they sang the song was the same year she had swallowed a handful of sleeping pills just before bed. When she woke up, she had a terrible hangover, but she was still alive. She never bothered to tell anyone. Five years later, she still couldn't get it right.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about-"

"It's fine," she cut him off. High school was one of the many things on her list of avoided topics.

An hour later, when she was certain he was asleep, she turned his phone off and rearranged herself so that her head was closer to him rather than her feet. She let her fingers brush the side of his leg. Just knowing someone else was there, someone safe, made her feel a little less jittery inside. Enjolras wouldn't have been her first pick if she'd been given a line up of comforting people, in fact she wouldn't have picked him at all. He was terrifying and imposing, but he had a certain charm and a way with words. He might not always show affection for the ones he cared for or tell them what they wanted to hear, but his aloofness and brutal honesty were part of what she admired so much about him. She matched him breath for breath until she was calm enough to close her eyes. The day may have been done but she was not.

A/N: Wow. Peak Drama you guys. I hope this was all in character. It's hard for me to know how much kindness and sympathy Enjolras is capable of, because he's A) the stone man and B) the leader of a rebellion to help the downtrodden. So does he care, or doesn't he? I tried to encapsulate that here.