A/N – Screw it. I'm not gonna make this harder for myself than it has to be. I've kept you guys waiting literally forever. I tried doing all the necessary research to make this as accurate as possible. But let's be serious. That wasn't gonna happen with school in full swing. And personally, I hate those dry spells when none of my subscriptions are updated. Not that I blame any of those authors. I mean, duh, we all have lives. So here you are. Ace, it might not be totally perfect, but I think this end product is tolerable. Enjoy everyone!

Chapter Four – A Stroll in the Garden

She could not take another second of lounging about in this infernal bed. Slowly, Eponine pulled back the covers that had kept her warm for days, and carefully rose to her feet. From the pain shooting through her left side, she deduced she had been shot in the abdomen. It was a miracle she had not bled to death. Silently she sent a prayer of thanks to Joly, wherever he was. Had he not treated her when he had, she might not be alive just now.

Clutching her side, Eponine supported herself with the dark wooden nightstand and found her balance. Walking was not the hard part; walking slowly so as not to injure her abdomen was where the difficulty lay. Eponine hated moving slowly. She was a very efficient sort of person, performing the tasks her father would set on her with quickness and precision. The quicker she finished, the sooner she could be with Marius…

Her thoughts clouded with irritation, she sank back down on the bed, still minding her wound. She knew she should hate him. She knew she should give him up. Yet for the life of her, she couldn't. He had been good to her when her life was so miserably horrid. Marius made her feel so at ease, treated her like a person, not some rogue street rat. Marius made her feel as if she mattered. Even if only to him, she mattered. Oh, her mother cared for her; better than her father did, at least. But her maman never believed she was worth much, that she would ever make something of herself. Monsieur Marius filled her with hope and illusions and dreams. He made her feel liked, appreciated, even loved. But he didn't love her. Why? Why not? Simply because she was not like Cosette, a proper young lady? She could have been. Had Fate been kind to her family, Eponine would have grown to be the daughter of a relatively respectable innkeeper. She would have been schooled in the art of being a proper young lady. She would have been just like Cosette.

Eponine had to leave the room. She had spent enough time there as it was, and another minute would drive her mad. Moving as quickly as her injury would allow, Eponine hobbled out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She moved to the staircase on her right, and faced the daunting task of making it down the steps. Stepping carefully, she took the first step, and not feeling too much pain, Eponine took the steps a little faster. Upon descending the last step, Eponine rounded the corner sharply, running into a wall. The wall seemed to have arms, for it reached out and steadied them both to avoid a fall.

"Don't you think you should slow down, Mademoiselle?" Enjolras asked, dropping his hands to his side. "You've only just woken up this morning."

"You're one to talk, Monsieur. Limping aimlessly through the garden on a bum leg? You may do more harm than good," Eponine retorted with a smug face.

Enjolras couldn't help but crack a smile. He would have expected nothing less from the sharp-tongued gamine. "Cosette has been very kind, letting me recover here. But I couldn't keep staring at the ceiling in that bedroom."

"It'd drive anyone mad," she agreed. "I know I should be grateful, but I felt like a prisoner in there. Can't keep a street rat caged up, monsieur. It goes against nature."

"You mustn't walk alone. What if you fall?" Though he didn't show it outwardly, Enjolras was relieved to see Eponine up and about, and most of all alive. He had lost most of his friends, and seen so many others lose their loved ones – seeing a familiar face was something rare these days. And he couldn't bear to see anymore hurt.

She eyed him carefully. He looked so tired. He had always seemed tired to her, whenever she had seen him at the Café Musain pouring over war strategies and maps of Paris. Of course he took care of himself, but it was obvious he put more effort into the revolution than in his own wellbeing. But this was different. It was hard to tell for sure without getting uncommonly close, but it looked as if Enjolras had gotten…well, older. His eyes were encircled by dark shadows, and his eyelids looked heavy. His normally distinguished posture had disappeared, with his shoulders slumped down, head hanging forward. What had happened to the eloquent, noble student she had seen so many times before?

"You seem tired, Monsieur Enjolras. You ought not to be exerting yourself…" It was hard to say to him. He might have looked physically spent, but he was still an imposing figuring to Eponine.

"Nonsense, I'm perfectly fine. I'll walk with you," he insisted, and he led her to the garden. "Besides, I dare say we could both use the exercise. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I suppose. Though I was asleep for most of the last few days. And yourself?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. It has been…difficult. Not only did our efforts fail, but we lost so many good men…" His voice trailed as they walked past the vegetable patch. Eponine glanced over to see him cast his gaze down at his feet, then meet hers. "I'm truly glad to see you unharmed," he told her with a small smile.

She matched his smile shyly. "You as well, Monsieur." Eponine felt just the same, and was determined to lift his spirits. She knew there was one thing that would get him talking. "But tell me monsieur, what exactly were you trying to achieve? It all seemed so senseless to me." She wasn't just asking to make him feel better. She truly was curious.

He turned to her, almost indignant. "Eponine! You of all people would benefit from what we are striving for. We republicans believe the state should serve its people, not some monarch on a throne. Wouldn't it be grand if your government worked for you instead of trying to please a king or tyrant? Everyone would get exactly what they deserved, what they needed. There would be no need for you to live on the street, or to steal to survive. You would be taken care of," he almost whispered. "It wouldn't be a perfect world. But it'd be a hell of a lot better than it is now."

Eponine smiled at him a little wider. His world sounded so wonderful. If only it actually existed. "But, you've failed, monsieur."

Enjolras' smile turned genuine, as did hers. "Perhaps. But by what Marius has told me, the people seem to have been greatly impacted by our actions, and the beliefs that fueled them. They have begun to discuss among themselves the reality that they see, that they experience every day. Maybe soon, they'll be ready to see things change. Or to change it themselves. One can only hope."

"And you, Monsieur? Will you be ready?"

"I still have much to learn. I was foolish to think I could lead an army with my limited knowledge. I left the university to go chase a daydream. I think it's time I returned to my studies. "

Eponine released a soft sigh. She had always wanted to study. If things had been different, if she'd been born a boy, she might have. But they weren't, and she wasn't. "Do you think they'll allow you to return, Monsieur? You were a traitor to the government, after all."

This girl is so perceptive, he thought to himself. Not all the students had realized the magnitude of their situation once they turned their back on the government. Yet here she was, quick as a whip to recognize the consequences of their actions. "I suppose they must, after that visit from my father."

"Your father?" Eponine had never heard Enjolras mention any family. She hadn't been aware he had a family to speak of.

"Yes. My father and I don't quite see the world in the same way, and once I announced my plans to join the revolution, he was quick to throw me out of the house."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged it off. "Don't be. I was shortly taken in by Courfeyrac. Anyhow, after word spread of the disaster at the barricade, my mother became worried sick and sent my father out in search of me. Once he found me here, he was quick to chastise my every stupid mistake. He threatened to disown me if I try anything like that again." Eponine could hear a clear disdain in his voice as he spoke of his father. Not unlike the tone she used when speaking of her own father. "He commanded that I go back to school to resume my studies."

"And you're going to do as he says?" she asked with a furrowed brow. He didn't seem like the type to take orders, but give them. She wished she could give her father a piece of her mind, as Monsieur Enjolras had done.

"I suppose that's my only option right now, so I agreed. He's probably already smoothed matters over with the gendarmes and the university, most likely with a hefty bribe," Enjolras sneered with disgust. As he took an angry step, he winced from the pain, and made for the bench he had occupied that morning. Eponine carefully placed herself next to him, studying his face. She could see that maybe this topic of conversation was not so pleasant after all.

"Is he still alive, monsieur?" she asked quietly. "Courfeyrac, I mean." This probably wasn't the best subject to stay on either, but she had to know. She considered many of les Amis her friends ,or at least the closest thing to friends she'd ever have, and the curiosity was too much for her.

Enjolras nodded, happy to give at least some good news. "Thankfully yes. One of the few to have survived."

She proceeded cautiously. "Who…who did we lose, monsieur?" Eponine looked at him with pleading eyes, wanting to know.

Enjolras looked at the girl. He could see the sadness in her eyes, ready for the worst. He spoke in hushed, clipped tones all of a sudden."Well, Joly is safe and sound, thank God. I had him out of harm's way, tending to the wounded. He's the one to thank for your recovery, you know…"

"Monsieur, please." Eponine didn't want him beating around the bush. He heaved a sigh.

"Bahorel. Jean Prouvaire. Combferre. Feuilly. Lesgle. Guillory. Ferrars. Everyone," he recited, furiously running his hands through his hair. Eponine hung her head, silently staring at the cobblestone path that wound through the garden. All of them. Gone. But wait…

"And Grantaire?" she asked quietly. "Monsieur, what about him?"

He stood up hastily, and walked a few paces in front of her, as if nothing was wrong with his leg.

"He died. In an effort to protect the man who put him in harm's way in the first place!" Eponine stared at him as he continued to pace before her. Then he suddenly stopped and crooked his head to look at her. "He died trying to save me, Eponine. Me." Enjolras was barely audible at this point. Tears threatened to spill, she could see it. But she knew they would never escape, not if he could help it. "And we hated each other! Or at the very least, I could hardly stand him. He never took anything we did seriously! And the one time he decided to show some backbone, he ends up dead." By now, he had collapsed back beside Eponine on the bench, overridden with a guilt that was all too plainly visible on his face. She gently placed her hand on his back and rubbed in a soothing gesture that had always calmed her brother…her brother…

"Monsieur! Monsieur, do you remember seeing a young boy at the barricade?" she asked frantically. "About ten years old, with a cap similar to mine?"

He didn't look up at her, but only nodded. "Yes, Gavroche you mean? Yes, he was there. Died while running to gather ammunition."

She moved to cover her mouth with her hand, but it wasn't enough to muffle the cry that escaped. Out of nowhere, the tears rolled down from her eyes in a seemingly never-ending way. Enjolras turned at the sound of her cry, and immediately put more space in between them. He never really enjoyed seeing women cry, especially since they could be so volatile when upset. But he had to know what was wrong.

"Did you know him, Eponine?"

"He was my brother, Enjolras!" she yelled at him in between sobs. Her head had sunk into her palms, muffling the heart-breaking cries that still echoed through the garden.

"You're brother? But, Eponine, he never said…"

"He didn't want you all to know! He was ashamed! Ashamed of his father and his trade!"

It hit him. His young comrade hadn't wanted to associate himself with such a cunning local villain. Everyone knew the infamous Thenardier and his gang. If it had been him, Enjolras wouldn't want to be connected to those vermin either.

He turned back to Eponine, who made no effort to constrain her tears. What was he supposed to do now? He'd never comforted a woman before. He'd never even so much as shaken hands with one, much less have to deal with an emotional train wreck. But this was Gavroche's sister – he supposed he had to try.

"Eponine, I'm sorry. Truly I am…"

She turned on him instantly. "No you're not! All you cared about was your revolution and your stupid ideals! Did you even consider his safety? A ten year old boy in the heat of battle!"

"Eponine, I tried! We all did! We didn't want him getting hurt! We all wanted him safe…"

"Well why didn't you try harder?" And she stormed off, no longer concerned with her healing wound. Enjolras had already cut open a much deeper wound, and she didn't know if this one would ever heal.

A/N – I don't deserve it, but if you're feeling particularly charitable…review? :)