Mobs will be mobs, and as it were, Eponine and Enjolras were swept into this one as it passed. She couldn't help but think of that first protest she and Enjolras went to, back when things were simple in her only worry was whether or not Marius liked her. But times change and people do too. She grabbed onto Enjolras before he could be pulled from her. He was hollering along with the rest of them now, delighted that the people were acting for themselves. Eponine had her own opinions. These people were ruining everything! The city was in lockdown because of the danger that they presented. The original plan could never go through if they insisted on having their own, more visible revolution. Killing the president would be impossible now.

Enjolras pulled her with him to the front of the march, one hand in hers and the other on where his gun was hidden. The crowd was slowing down, but they couldn't yet see why. "I'm going to lift you!" he screamed over the angry chanting.

"What?!"

"Tell me what's going on!" He took her by the knees so that she was practically sitting on his shoulder. The signs everyone was holding impeded her view, and when they moved, all she could see was a sea of tan.

"I think it's soldiers!"

He nearly dropped her when the screaming in front of them erupted. They both pulled out their guns and pushed their way to the front of the crowd. There was a wall of military men, all holding bullet proof shields in front of them. Behind those were men with rifles resting on their shoulders and even more holding tear gas. A few shots went off, and the crowd surged forward. Eponine was about to suggest they head back they way they came so that they could figure out a new plan, when water hit her in the side and knocked her down. It pushed her further across the ground, making her shoulder tear open in the process. She gasped, laying in the gutter, drowning in the stream that was still aimed at her. What was this, the 1960?

Sudden relief came in the form of Enjolras laying his own body over hers and taking the full brunt of the force. He was screaming something at her, but she couldn't understand it right away because of the pounding in her head. GETUPGETUPGETUP! She struggled to her get to her feet with the world spinning as it was, and Enjolras moved with her, pushing and holding her up simultaneously. They made their way back into the mob and then cut down a side street. Once there, they didn't stop. Eponine saw some kids run into one of the buildings and pointed. She needed to hole up, at least for a few minutes, to recover.

She pulled the door open with her good arm and stumbled up a steep flight of stairs. "Where are we?"

"The sign outside said that this was the Peterson house. It's where Lincoln died," he said, as out of breath as she was.

"That's awfully forboding." They made their way to a bedroom. The kids they had seen earlier were sitting on the floor smoking, so they moved to the next room. Enjolras went to the window immediately to see what had become of the situation outside. There wasn't much to look at though, as the mob had been on the main street. The screams and chants were still clearer than day however, even from inside the house.

"We can only stay here for a little while."

"I know," Eponine took the sweatshirt off and hissed. Her wound looked worse than it felt, but seeing it made it seem more painful than it had previously.

"Can I see?" Enjolras lifted her arm a little before she could give permission. He gave a little "Hmm," while running his thumb over one of her old self-inflicted scars.

"I kind of ruined your sweatshirt." The sleeve had a giant rip from where she had been thrown across the pavement. He shrugged. "Are you okay?"

"It's just my back," he said, rubbing his shoulders before laying on the ground. His sopping wet hair created a puddle halo around him. She shivered a little. If she didn't get shot first, she'd probably die from hypothermia.

"Thanks for- uh, you know. Having my back and all that."

"You pledged your life to me, it was the least I could do. Besides, do you really think I could just stand there and watch you get blasted like that."

She sat on the floor next to him, wrapping her arms around her wet body to keep warm. "Yeah, I mean it was really nice though." She paused, thinking back on their relationship. "Remember that time I called you and you came and picked me up?" He gave her a confused look. "With the Taco Bell and the poker, and the calling you at three in the morning?"

"Oh, yeah."

"I think that yourself for first. Those were the nicest things anyone's ever done for me. You've got the highscore."

"That can't be right. What about Marius? You and Courf are friends too."

"Nope. You got up in the middle of the night, sped to a taco bell with a gun to pick up some girl that you used to tutor. That's really nice. Really really nice. And then after all of that, you didn't make me answer any questions and offered to let me stay on your couch."

"That was dumb of me. I should have asked questions. If I was being a good friend, I wouldn't have let you make me drop it. I would have pressed you harder and then," a paused a moment, trying to think of how to phrase her suicide attempt, "none of the stuff that happened after would have happened." It was vague, but obvious what he meant. She wished he would just come out and say it, but to him it probably felt taboo. "By the way, whatever happened after I took you home that night? I remember you called me the next day, but you didn't say much."

"Well, Montparnasse was the boyfriend I was living with, and he was also the person who bet me that night."

"Ah," Enjolras rubbed his sore neck and squeezed his eyes shut. "Should have known."

"He wasn't so happy to see me, as you might imagine."

"I don't understand why you stayed with him. I know, you felt like you had to-at least at first, but after everything he did to you, didn't you think there might have been a better option?"

"Anything would have been better than staying with him."

"Then why?! I know I asked you before, but I still don't get it."

She chewed her lip a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "I was terrified of him."

"I still don't understand."

"Okay, pretend you're me."

He crossed his arms the way she always did when she was upset. "Alright?"

"No, you're going to be me, and I'm going to be 'Parnasse. You're asleep and I'm just coming home." Enjolras closed his eyes and Eponine lay down next to him. She pinched his arm.

"Ouch!"

"No, 'Welcome home' or dinner in the fridge?"

"What?" Enjolras was clearly confused by the roleplaying, but Eponine went with it anyway.

"What do you mean, 'what?' I work all day, and come home to this?" She sat up and gestured to him. "What's the point of you?"

"I-"

"Shut up," she covered his mouth with a dirty hand before straddling him. "Don't you think I'm tired? What do you do all day that you can't even boil me some noodles and make me some sauce? HM? Is there someone else? Or are you just lazy?"

"Eponine," Enjolras put a hand on her hip and the other on the one covering his mouth, but she shook him off easy, because he wasn't really trying, and pinned his wrists next to his ears.

"I don't ask for much. I wish that you would just respect me." She rocked her hips back and forth a little, grinding against his.

"Eponine," he was saying it as a warning this time.

"If I can't make you respect me, I can make you fear me at the very least." She tightened her grip on his wrists so much that it hurt her fingers to do so. The pity in his eyes hurt worse though. He wasn't fighting her anymore, he was just sad for her. She felt pinpricks at the backs of her eyes and hated him for it. If she'd learned anything from what had happened to her in her short and miserable life, it was how to be pleasantly numb despite the circumstances. Now though, seeing herself through his eyes, she couldn't help but break down a little inside. She was pathetic and helpless, and she wouldn't be able to protect him from anything. "You think you can manipulate me with those bambi eyes, bitch? When I'm through with you, you won't even be able to open them."

"Please, stop," Enjolras broke his wrists free easily and touched her face, covering her cheeks with his hands , sliding his fingertips down her neck, fitting his fingers to the slight curve of her hips before freezing, as if realizing exactly what he was doing.

She couldn't stop. He pissed her off so much. Sometimes she thought he didn't care about her at all, but she could see now that she'd been wrong all along. All she ever did was pretend not to care, and he saw right through that. It's not like she liked him. Platonically she did, of course, but Marius was still the only person she could reserve the word 'love' for in spite of everything. She didn't like Enjolras, but the way that he was looking at her right then, full of pity and wonder, she thought maybe she might have misjudged him and that maybe he was the only person in the entire world who actually cared about her, even more than she did; which wasn't saying much, but it was something.

She fit her mouth to his, and he tasted like water and smells like fresh air. She dragged her hand from his neck to the small of his back. She half-expected him to push her off like he had earlier that day, but instead he kissed her harder. she knew he was strong; she didn't know how strong until she felt it herself, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her fingers. It was the end of the world and this was it. It was all they had.

Stop, she told herself.

Suddenly it was if they were in a hurry, his fingertips brushing her side under her shirt, her hands clutching at him, struggling to be closer, but there was no closer. She never longed for someone that way, or so much. And the way he said her name, and whispered apologies for things he had no control over, it broke her heart. She didn't want to be scared anymore, but she was. Those moments lasted for an eternity, the sweetness of them bitter in her stomach. She didn't deserve his kindness. Enjolras sat up and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace which was when she realized she was crying. He was going to die, and she was going to die, and she hadn't realized until that very moment that maybe she wanted to live and that maybe not everything was so completely dreadful. It was too soon. She didn't care about the government or the mob outside. Wishing things were different though seldom makes them so, and so it was with a weary heart that she wiped away her tears and pulled away. This was what she had signed up for, and she would be true to her word. There was little else she could give him.