A/N: Don't know when the next chapter will be up, I've written some of it on the memopad on my mobile but my mobile is a bit worn out so it keeps turning off and not coming back on so yeah, I need to try and save it. But here is chapter 15...and no, Eponine is not dead!
Chapter 15: Young and Afraid
Marius fought relentlessly, shooting national guard members as if they were dogs. He wanted to destroy all of those men, especially the one who'd hurt Eponine.
His Eponine.
He couldn't believe that she was gone.
Marie-Anne knelt over Eponine's body. A tear slid from her eye as she took Eponine's wrist. She gasped.
A pulse was there. It was faint, but Eponine wasn't dead.
She looked around for help. The drunk man, Grantaire, was there.
"Grantaire!" She whispered. He looked up. "Oui?" He murmured.
"Help me take this girl home? She's not dead."
Grantaire thought a moment, not registering that Eponine shouldn't have been fighting.
"As long as it's quick. If I didn't help, it'd be blood on my hands, which I don't want. Unless it's one of those-" He jabbed his finger towards the other side of the barricade. "-I prefer wine in my gut-ah." He sighed blissfully as he staggered upright, before picking up Eponine and throwing her over his shoulder like a doll.
Marie-Anne led the way to Rue Plumet.
Cosette was woken at midnight by a knock on the door. She heard her father's steady footsteps on the stairs, so she decided to follow him. She was barefoot and in her nightgown and her hair was messy, but this felt more important.
"Yes?" She heard her father say. Then there came a gasp.
"Oh my! Eponine!" Cosette broke into a run, appearing beside her father in seconds.
An un-sober man held a limp body. Eponine. Wounded. Or dead? Cosette gasped.
A smaller boy of about fourteen appeared beside the drunk man. Cosette recognised him as the messenger from earlier.
"'Scuse me, I beg your pardon for waking you up...she's not dead, just injured. It's not fatal if you can stop her bleeding...I thought she'd be safe at home. I wasn't not strong enough to carry her..." Cosette remembered the boy had seemed to have an oddly high voice, but now he sounded hysterical.
Cosette was the one who acted first, while her father was still in shock.
"Bring her to the sitting room." She ordered, before rushing there herself.
She pulled the plush cushions off the sofa and laid them on the rug by the hearth, making the floor as comfy as possible. She then lit the fire.
The man stumbled slightly whilst carrying Eponine, so the boy quickly supported him. The boy seemed slightly in wonder at the house, but still concerned about Eponine.
"Lay her there." Cosette pointed to the other couch, which was long enough for Eponine to lay on.
Once her sister was laid down, Cosette quickly tore fabric off her nightgown and bound Eponine's hand. She then took Eponine's cap and held it to the shoulder wound.
"Her wounds need cleaning before I can truly bind them and she needs some more sterile fabric." She turned to the boy, who looked back blankly.
"As much as I would love to stay with a pretty lady, I have a barricade to get back to. Name's Grantaire by the way." Grantaire winked, before stumbling out of the room past Valjean, who had just appeared. Valjean decided to escort him to the door out of hospitality and just to make sure he actually found the way out. Valjean carried a wine bottle, possibly to give to Grantaire in payment of bringing Eponine home.
Cosette turned to the boy. "Can you hold the cap to her shoulder for me?" The boy nodded. "Make sure you put pressure on it, don't let her bleed again. She's lost as much blood as it is. I'm going to fetch some things to clean her wounds with."
When Cosette returned after five minutes, she was dressed in her old woollen dress which she'd kept for gardening so she didn't ruin any of her fancier garments. This work wasn't gardening, but Cosette somehow knew what to do.
She had the nightgown which she'd torn earlier over one arm, and carried a large bowl full of water. Floating on the water was another small bowl, this one filled with small white crystals of some sort.
Cosette frowned at the soot and dirt on Eponine's skin. "She could do with a bath, but she's probably too fragile to go through that. Ah well-I'll just clean the wounds." She murmured to herself.
She set the bowl down on the floor, then took the smaller bowl out and set it beside the smaller bowl. She put the nightgown down more carefully, lifting off a small white package that was perched on top of it. A needle gleamed from the small white packed.
The shoulder wound still had the bullet in it.
"Oh no." Cosette mumbled. "What's wrong, Mademoiselle?" The boy chimed. "The bullet is still in...I don't think I can get it out." She sounded distressed. "Don't fret, Mademoiselle. Listen, I'm not actually a boy. Eponine isn't the only girl who wanted to fight. Anyway, when Mama was alive she was a talented seamstress because she had tiny fingers. I have the same hands as her." The girl who was dressed like a boy pushed her long sleeve back to reveal a tiny, dirty but slender hand.
Cosette's face lit up. "Will you help me?"
"'Course. I'll help Eponine too." After saying that, the girl took her coat off and knelt beside Eponine, gently probing the wound, until her fingers met the bullet and she prised it out. Eponine whimpered and stirred, but she didn't wake up.
Cosette glared at the bullet that had dared to harm her sister. "Put it on the fire." She said.
"With pleasure." Replied the girl. Cosette now noticed how gracefully she moved and how feminine she looked, now feeling foolish for mistaking her for a boy.
Cosette tore another strip of her nightgown. She took a handful of the crystals-salt-and put them in the water.
"Is that sugar?" The girl asked.
"No. It is salt. It helps clean wounds and stop them getting infected." Cosette replied. She soaked the cloth in salt water, wrung it, then worked at cleaning Eponine's wounds. The girl watched, spellbound.
Valjean silently watched as Cosette threaded her needle. A look of determination was set across her features.
He saw Eponine flinch unconsciously as Cosette stitched up her wounds. He knew Cosette had it under control, that he couldn't do much to help.
His attention turned to the smaller girl who'd disguised herself as a boy. Her hair was wavy and just brushed the bottom of her chin. She had delicate, pixie-like features. But she was way too thin and looked slightly pale, and way too dirty. She must have been living on the streets.
Valjean beckoned to her. She rose and approached him awkwardly. "Down the hallway, three rooms to your left." He said, then handed her a key.
"Lock the door. A lady needs to bath in peace, doesn't she?" His lips twitched a little at the shock on her face, before turning to his daughters.
"Cosette...I see you have everything under control. I have a duty to do tonight so I need to go out...will you be okay?" He asked. "Of course, Papa." "Her hand wound. Almost as if her hand went over the butt of a gun." He contemplated. "She was probably blocking the bullet from Marius."
Cosette instantly clamped her lips shut. Why did I have to go and blab?
"What?" A shadow crossed Valjean's face.
"I mean, Marie-Anne. She's the girl who was here a moment ago." Cosette explained. Valjean continued to contemplate, but he nodded stiffly.
"I'll get going then."
"Goodbye, Papa." Cosette smiled. He half-smiled back, then left the room.
She didn't know where he was going.
The fighting had stopped and everyone settled down for the night. Marius was vaguely aware of a national guard member volunteering-or some man who'd disguised himself to pass through the lines so he could volunteer. He was aware of Gavroche's voice chiming, "Don't kill him! I know 'im".
Marius didn't care.
He adjusted the barricade, moved wood to make it seem stronger-anything so he didn't think. He didn't look at Cafe Musain where all the dead bodies lay.
Where she was.
He decided to listen a little to Enjolras' strong voice. Nobody was debating about the national guard anymore.
"Coufeyrac, you take the watch. They may attack before it's light." He said, before attempting a weary speech. "Everybody keep the faith, for certain as our banner flies, we are not alone, the people too must rise."
He approached Marius and laid his hand on his arm. Marius flinched. "Marius." Enjolras spoke gently and firmly. "Rest."
Marius hesitantly stopped, climbing from the barricade. Enjolras nodded, before moving on to talk to others.
Grantaire stumbled out of nowhere to sit near some students who Marius should recognise but didn't. Grantaire held a bottle of luxurious looking wine in his hand.
"Drink with me...to days gone by." He sang. "To the life." Chorused the other students. "To the life." Gavroche echoed. "That used to be." Marius sank down to the ground beside them while they passed the bottle around. "At the shrine of friendship never say die." Marius gulped some wine.
"Let the wine of friendship never run dry." Friendship. 'Ponine.
"Here's to you."
"And here's to me."
Marius had handed the bottle up to another student. He rose and walked away, finding the spot where he'd held her.
"Do I care if I should die, now she has passed away?" He wondered aloud. Nobody was listening. "Life without 'Ponine means nothing at all..." Another tear escaped his eye.
He didn't notice the most recent volunteer stood nearby, who looked up at the mention of 'Ponine.
"Would you weep, Dear Eponine, if I were to fall? Would you weep, 'Ponine, for Marius?"
As he curled up in the spot that she had died, his heart felt as if it had been torn out of his chest. He drifted into unconsciousness, a nightmare filled sleep.
Valjean was still awake when the students were silent.
He'd disguised himself as National Guard to get through to the barricade. Seeing the girl, Marie-Anne, had reminded him of Fantine when her hair had been shorn.
Marie-Anne, and the poor children of the street.
The child Cosette, who worked for the cruel Thenardiers.
Fantine, who'd lost her job and dignity so fast.
Eponine, who'd almost died this night.
He would fight for them here.
And for the boy who he'd hated a moment before. This Marius. He'd hated the fact Eponine might have almost died to save this Marius. He'd hated that Marius could have the power to take her away.
But after what he'd just heard, Marius didn't even know she was alive, and grieved for her. He hadn't wanted her to be injured.
How awful it must have been to believe her dead.
Valjean approached the sleeping student quietly, sitting about a foot away from him. He bowed his head, clasped his hands and murmured a prayer. "Lord on high, hear my prayer. In my need, you have always been there."
He raised his head and studied Marius' freckled face, realising how young he was. Not much older than Eponine or Cosette at all. The boy whimpered in his sleep.
He is young, he's afraid. Let him rest, heaven blessed. Bring him home. Like Eponine had been brought home, Marius should also return.
He's like the son I might have known, if God had granted me a son. Two beautiful daughters, Valjean had raised. Raising a son might have been good, but Valjean never complained about the girls. Boys stay boys longer than girls stay girls. The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly, on and on. How fast the girls had grown. Eponine making decisions, such as fighting for other people's freedom. Cosette, the girl who used to play with dolls dresses, loved dresses of her own.
Eponine, falling in love.
And I am old, and will be gone. Valjean wouldn't always be there for the girls, as much as he would love to.
Bring him peace, bring him joy. Whether it is with or without Eponine. This boy had crinkled eyes from smiles. He shouldn't be so distraught as he was now. "He is young." Murmured Valjean. "He is only a boy."
Only a boy. Like so many others on this barricade...like the child who Valjean had once given a loaf of bread to. The boy Gavroche, who was sleeping here tonight, fighting alongside Marius and other students.
"You can take, you can give! Let him be, let him live. If I die, let me die. Let him live..." Let Marius escape the fate that awaits him at this barricade. "Bring him home." Valjean finished his prayer. Bring him home. Amen.
Dawn broke on the barricade. An eerie silence hung low in the air, pierced by a whistle. The students woke up.
"We're the only ones left." Enjolras gathered everyone briefly.
"What?" Marius looked startled. His face was pale beneath the freckles and shadowed.
"We're the only barricade left." Enjolras repeated in a calm yet hopeless way.
"The gun powder is mostly ruined."
"We're low on ammunition."
"There are bullets on the other side."
Enjolras sat with his head in his hands. "Leave if you want." He choked. His usual ambition had faded.
The eerie silence hung in the air again.
This time, the silence was broken by a gentle child's voice singing.
"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the songs of angry men." Gavroche lifted up the red flag and waved it.
"It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again. When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums. There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!" The other students joined in, united in comradeship, as the marching was heard again.
"Someone needs to fetch the bullets." A student murmured. "I'll go." Marius said.
"No." Valjean and Gavroche said in unison.
"How about I go?" Valjean began to volunteer, but Gavroche was already swinging himself through the gaps in the barricade onto the other side.
Loads of people found a point to watch from. The national guard had their guns aimed. Gavroche took up a song.
"Little people know, when little people fight. We may look easy pickings but we've got some bite." He faltered as a gunshot fired, then bent to pick up a handful of bullets and put them in a small leather pack. He stood up indignantly, facing the soldiers.
"So never kick a dog, because he's just a pup! We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up." Another shot fired, this time hitting the small boy's shoulder. He dropped the bag.
"So you better...run for cover...when the pup grows-" The third gunshot shattered the song. Gavroche lay sprawled on the ground, glassy eyes unseeing the sky they stared at.
Valjean had never hated laws or soldiers more than he did now. An innocent child, who couldn't have been older than twelve.
A voice echoed across the wall of wood. "You at the barricade listen to this, the people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?"
"Let us die facing our foes, make them bleed while we can!" Enjolras cried indignantly in response.
"Make 'em pay through the nose." Another student said.
"Make 'em pay for every man!"
"Let others rise, to take our place! Until the earth is free!" Enjolras shouted defiantly.
The gunshots began to shatter the air.
The last battle had begun.