A/N: Hi guys! So, my parents surprised my sister and I with tickets to see the Steve Miller Band and Journey, and it was AMAZING. I haven't had a lot of time to write as a result, but I scratched out the last half of this chapter in the car on the way home! It's a little shorter than usual, but I hope you enjoy it! :)
Éponine woke up more slowly than usual the next morning. As she slowly regained consciousness, she sat up in her bed, looking for the clock that stood next to it. 9:30 a.m. Inexplicably, something felt different about this morning, she thought to herself as she ran a hand through her hair…what was it? She couldn't seem to remember.
Then it came back to her – the man in the room across the hall. Which reminded her, there were four more presumably still sprawled out on her living room floor. With a quiet groan, she forced herself to get out of bed and quietly open her door. The door across the hall was closed; she presumed that Enjolras was still asleep. Her bare feet padded softly down the carpet of the short hallway to the front of her apartment, where there were still four sleeping men, but slightly rearranged into a more organized pattern. She stepped very carefully over Joly's head and Courfeyrac's torso into the kitchen and started brewing coffee. Gradually, all four men roused as the smell drifted to them.
"Mmmh…is that what I think it is?" Grantaire mumbled as he staggered to her kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Éponine almost wondered how bad his hangover would be from all the whiskey he'd drunk during their planning session last night.
She grinned as the other three followed him in a similar fashion. "Indeed it is," she laughed. "Who wants coffee?"
"Did someone say coffee?" a sleepy, familiar voice sounded at the top of the hall. Enjolras had made it to the front of the apartment, still wearing the same clothes as the day before, but slightly more wrinkled. He was rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes as he walked over to the kitchen, and Éponine couldn't help but smile at him. The look on his tired face was so innocent, almost like that of a child. She found herself wanting to hold him, care for him…love him.
"Yes, I did," she laughed. "Oh, and does anyone want eggs? I'm more than happy to make breakfast."
"You cook? I love you!" Four voices sounded in perfect unison.
Éponine and Enjolras both started to laugh. "Deal me in too, Éponine," Enjolras added quietly.
For about an hour, the six of them sat around Éponine's tiny dining room table – Grantaire ended up sitting on Courfeyrac's lap – eating breakfast, drinking coffee and laughing. She discovered that Enjolras and Combeferre loved cracking jokes at each other, and that even though he was the quietest one there, Joly could be incredibly dry when he wanted to be; Courfeyrac and Grantaire got several zingers for their seating arrangement.
One by one, the Amis gradually left, until Éponine and Enjolras were alone in the kitchen. They were both quiet for a moment, neither one really knowing what to say, especially Éponine. After all, it was the first time they'd been alone together since the incident in his father's office. She looked down into her coffee for a moment, contemplating something to say. Finally, she managed to speak up.
"I hope that bed was okay last night," she said a little awkwardly, almost shyly.
Thankfully, he nodded. "It was great. I actually slept really well."
"Good, I'm glad."
Back to awkward silence it is, Enjolras thought as he, too, contemplated what to say next. He drummed his fingers on the sides of the coffee mug for a moment, looking down.
Weren't you going to say something to her once the rest of the boys left, Richard? This is it. It's now or never.
"Listen, Éponine…" he began hesitantly, not even sure of what he wanted to say. He sighed softly, faltering a little. I'm a lawyer. I'll improvise. What the hell.
"I'm so sorry," she burst out before he could say anything else, clearly on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry that I lied to you by omission for so long, I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to help me, I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough last night, I'm sorry for making myself a burden to you…God save me, I'm so sorry for everything…"
Gradually, her tears started to fall, as much as she tried to hold them in. Enjolras could only pull her into his chest and hold her, stroking her hair and gently shushing her as she cried, murmuring sweet nonsense in an attempt to calm her down. As her cries finally started to hush, he pulled back from her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Éponine, listen to me," he said gently, but with an earnest undertone that he could hardly contain. "You were completely within your rights to not tell me something I know you could never be proud of. I volunteered to help you because I wanted to do what I could for Azelma. You are one of the bravest people I have ever known; you faced Montparnasse last night at great risk to yourself, and I hardly saw you flinch. And more than anything, you have never been a burden to me, Éponine. You couldn't be a burden if you tried." Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered earnestly, "You're too perfect for that."
Then he kissed her.
It was not the most perfect kiss he could have imagined, but he wouldn't have wanted it without the tiny flaws that made it theirs. Her chapped lips tasted of her tears; she was still crying even as she kissed him back with everything she had. Enjolras almost felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he pressed his mouth against hers, so close to him that neither of them could breathe. He didn't want to breathe; it was too hard when he was with her. As they kissed, her tears making the crossover from her cheeks to his, he only wanted more. Enjolras opened his mouth to hers and let their tongues run together. His hands moved all the way down to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to him. He'd missed everything about this, and it felt good to have it back.
When they finally pulled apart to gasp for air, he immediately pulled her close again, squeezing her tightly. "Oh, Éponine…" he whispered, stroking her hair. "My beautiful Éponine…you know I still love you."
She looked up at him, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes, still catching her breath from the kiss. "Y-you do?" she asked, her voice still broken from her sobs.
Enjolras couldn't help but smile. "Of course I do, Éponine," he murmured gently into her hair. "Of course I do. I never truly stopped." He paused, pulling back from her as he continued. "I was angry with you for a long time…so angry. But I always ached for that missing piece in my life that you filled. More than anything…I missed you. I missed you when I didn't realize it, when I was angry, when I didn't want to miss you…I thought about you all the time. I wanted…exactly what just happened."
Éponine was smiling now, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "I missed you too, Enjolras…all the time." She paused to gather her own thoughts. "After that day at your father's office…I knew I couldn't go home. So Mac let me stay in the back room of the Whitehorse…and then the fuzz picked us both up the next morning. They thought Mac was also running a prostitution business in addition to the speakeasy."
Enjolras clenched his teeth, but said nothing. This was all the confirmation he needed that she was the one his father wanted him to prosecute when he closed her father's trial. He must have turned them both in to catch her, he thought to himself.
"Those few nights I spent in prison…I was so alone. All I'd wanted was to clear the air between us. I wanted you to know the whole truth about me; that's why I decided to tell you. You had every right to know…because I love you too."
Enjolras' heart swelled when he heard her; he was at a complete loss for words. He hugged her again, even tighter than before; he didn't know how else to express his feelings. "Listen…there's something I need to tell you," he said gently. "Something you deserve to know."
They sat down on her couch, and Enjolras took a moment to gather his thoughts. "The reason I snapped at the office that day was...well, before you came to see me, another woman had come in…"
Richard Enjolras, Sr. was doing something he never did. He knew he'd wear a path in this expensive carpet if he kept pacing around his apartment for much longer, but he was too nervous to sit still. He'd expected his next order from Felix days ago, and he was quickly becoming a desperate man. He knew he needed to stop, and not just his pacing on his good carpet.
Ever since his Maëlys had died, he'd taken to the bottle to ease the pain of her passing. It was so painful to think about her – or even to remember her name – for so many years…practically every time he looked at his young son, he had to open another bottle – beer, wine, whiskey, whatever he could get his hands on. As soon as he put Richard to bed every night, he had to start drinking. If he tried to skip it for one night, he regretted it in the morning – more than when he had too much. The drink was a harsh, unforgiving mistress.
When Prohibition was enacted, he knew it would get harder to keep up his habit. For a while, he frequented Mac's speakeasy behind the general store, often taking Richard with him, once he was old enough to drink. He'd keep himself in check when he drank with his son, before he went home and drank as much as he wanted.
That was before he met Felix Tholomyés, the bootlegger who had become his personal supplier for the last several months. He was one of the best in New York; ever since the law was enacted, he'd never been caught. No one knew how he managed to evade law enforcement so well, especially since he liked to cross state lines, but he always did. The sun was starting to go down, which meant Felix should be coming soon with his next shipment.
Richard was still convincing himself that he'd done the right thing, turning in Mac in order to catch his son's little girlfriend. He and Mac had been friends for years, and drinking buddies for years before he opened up the speakeasy. Had he been wrong to turn in his friend…?
Of course not, Richard. You caught the little bitch, didn't you? Just like you wanted? There's no good reason for your son to be around that. You did it to protect your son. Mac was just collateral damage, and all will be forgiven.
Finally, a knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts – and his pacing. He turned straight for the door, looking quickly at the distorted shape of Felix through the peephole, before opening it. "About damn time you got here," he grumbled as he let the bootlegger in, locking the door. "I was about to wear a path in the carpet; I could hardly sit still." His voice was haggard and angry; he needed liquor.
"Calm down, Richard," Felix said irritably as he put out his cigarette. "I've got your shipment here, as promised."
The attorney visibly relaxed. "Good. I've been getting impatient."
"Aren't you always around delivery time?" Felix muttered under his breath, unveiling the large brown paper sack he carried in his trenchcoat. Richard heard the bottles rattling against each other, and his heart picked up in anticipation of the drink. "You're lucky this was a good haul for me," Felix said as he set the bag down on the table. Three bottles of whiskey, two bottles of wine, and six beers sat between them.
Richard grabbed the first bottle of whiskey and effortlessly opened it, guzzling from it like a dying man given water. The neck was empty when he finally stopped and set the bottle down for air. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the alcohol relax him. "Your payment will be the usual, then?" he asked coolly, his tone noticeably less haggard than before. "I know some bootleggers have started kicking their prices up."
"Of course," Felix said with a nod. "You're a paying, regular customer. I'm not going to raise your price." The other man nodded, standing up and getting out his wallet. He fished out the usual number of bills and handed them to Felix, who pocketed them where the bag of liquor had been. "See you soon," the bootlegger said as he left.
Richard locked his apartment door again, promptly going back to his kitchen table and picking up his favorite shot glass. The Thénardier trial was about to close, and then he would get his son to toss that grifter of his in jail, no matter what it took. He would be his son's savior, and the girl would end up where she belonged – safe behind bars, with her scumbag of a father.
Everything is falling into place perfectly.
The stars were out when Enjolras' full story was finally complete. Éponine was looking down and shaking her head, thunderstruck. "I don't understand…" she said slowly. "You have a half-sister from your father's affair with Fantine Tholomyés?" she asked, incredibly confused.
Enjolras nodded slowly, his jaw clenched. "I think it must have contributed to my mother's depression spiraling out of control for the first few years of my life," he said tightly. "I was only four years old when she died, but I was old enough to know and understand how much she loved my father. She absolutely adored him. If she'd ever known about his affair, it would have broken her heart. Especially if she found out that he fathered another child."
Éponine nodded. "That's understandable. But how are you planning to prosecute him?"
Enjolras sighed, running a hand over his face. "I don't know. You have to understand, Éponine, this is every lawyer's worst nightmare. My father knows every trick in the book, and he taught me everything he could without sending me to law school as a child. I'll be prosecuting a man who can predict my every move, and figure out exactly how to evade me. Not to mention he'll have the help of a defense attorney."
"Can't you use the journal in court?" Éponine asked.
"Technically I can, but it may not be enough. Depending on which judge I draw, it might be considered too circumstantial. And since this case is almost as old as I am, it's going to be extremely hard for me to get more traditional, concrete evidence to use in court. Even with Cosette's resemblance to him, sealing a conviction will be the tricky part. He's always been an upstanding citizen and a respected lawyer; no jury would want to contribute to his downfall without hard proof."
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Show me the entry again."
Enjolras picked up his father's journal from where it sat on the coffee table in front of them, which he had now marked with small slips of paper where the key entries were. He opened it to the proper date and read the entry aloud again.
18 September, 1903
I have just made possibly the worst mistake of my adult life thus far. I had too much to drink last night, and as a result, I must have gone to bed with Fantine Leblanc last night, because I woke up in her hovel this morning. She sleeps in the bed as I quickly write this; I must get home as soon as I can.
Maëlys will be distraught that I never made it back last night, and I don't know how I will have to explain myself to her. Oh God, what have I done to myself? To my marriage? To my two-year-old son? He's just learning to talk now, and my wife has been stricken with some kind of sadness for the last two years since his birth. The doctors can't figure out what it is. Every time I look at them now, I will only be filled with guilt for this wicked sin I have committed.
Enjolras put the journal back down and started to think again. Éponine was starting to understand more of the nuances of his facial expressions as she looked at him closely – his brow was low and slightly furrowed, his eyes were staring at something indistinct, his jaw tightened, his breathing evened, his hands steepled in front of his face. It was an expression of deep, hard thought, rather than anger.
After a moment, he spoke again.
"This is the most incriminating entry I can find in the entire journal, especially since I talked to Fantine and Cosette," he said slowly. "She gave me all the details from her side of the night, right down to the exact date he slept with her. On this page, it's clear that he's guilt ridden for having an affair, even by accident. That opens up an alleyway for me to play on the psychology of the situation in court. If there was something he didn't put down in the journal, then perhaps I could carefully needle a confession out of him. Either way, in the entry from the day my mother died, he makes a vow to not support Cosette. Here," he said, turning the pages to the last paragraph of the entry. "This is the last sentence: 'I can only conclude that Fantine Leblanc seduced me, and I will not support her, even if the child is mine. I do not care anymore.' There's no way that the jury could deny a resemblance between him and Cosette, which would seal the deal if no other snags come up. I just don't know how to prepare for those snags when I have no idea what they might be."
Éponine nodded. "That certainly sounds tricky. Have you talked to Combeferre about this at all? He might be able to help you."
"I haven't, actually," he answered, pondering her suggestion. "I'll give him a call and we can talk at my apartment later tonight. I could even pick you up and let you participate, if you like."
She shook her head sadly. "I shouldn't. I'll be on trial once my father's case is closed," she said.
Enjolras sighed. "I forgot about that." He stood up from her couch, pulling on his coat. "I'll let you know everything that happens, though. I'm sure 'Ferre will have some good things to contribute."
"I'm sure he will," she said.
He smiled again, pulling her close. The joy of having her back in his arms still hadn't gone away, and he wondered if it ever would. "I love you, Éponine," he murmured into her hair, kissing her lips again.
"I love you too, Enjolras," she smiled back, hugging him again. They stood there for a moment longer, embracing next to the open window, before they quickly kissed again, she let him out of her apartment and locked the door behind him.
As he drove away from the apartment and she walked away from the window, neither of them saw the dandy who slipped into the shadows of the alley across the street and ran back towards his base.
A/N: So even as our lovers reunite, we have some suspense...let me know what you think of that scene! Sorry to keep you waiting!