A/N: Your feedback has been making all the difference, so thank you! Please don't stop. Each one is like being rewarded for my efforts, and they mean so much to me. :)

Disclaimer: Les Misérables is copyrighted to and belongs to Victor Hugo. I'm just playing in his sandbox and receive no financial gain from this. Rats.

Chapter 4

"One day to a new beginning..."
-Les Misérables

Enjolras awoke at dawn. The sun was only beginning to rise, painting his room in a warm, pink-tinted glow; just enough to lighten up the room and will the shadows away. There was a wave of calm and tranquility this morning unlike any other he had experienced in a long while, and, for a moment, it utterly confused him.

Enjolras stretched beneath the covers before drawing them up against his head. He was about to doze off again when something faint reached his ears. Was that...snoring?

Enjolras's weary eyes shot open, alerted to the strange sound and the fact that he wasn't alone in his bedroom. "Marius, what the hell are you doing he—" he grumbled and threw back the covers, only to stop himself short of finishing his question.

Someone was indeed in the room with him, but not anyone he would have ever expected. A small being was coiled snug as could be in the sofa chair next to his bed, her face obstructed by a mound of thick, dark brown tresses that cascaded past her shoulders and down her back. Her neck was arched at such an angle as to look extremely uncomfortable. Despite her awkward sleeping position, however, the woman—or girl, he couldn't be sure—was softly snoring, passed out to the world and to him.

"Excuse me?" he called to her, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. Whoever this female was, she had no right intruding upon his personal space. When the young lady didn't react and only continued to dose uninterrupted, he spoke louder, "Excuse me, Mademoiselle? Excuse... Hey!"

Éponine startled and her head jerked out of hiding, her tired eyes searching the room for any signs of awareness as to where she was. Slowly, the remembrance dawned on her, and her eyes widened when they fell upon Enjolras, asleep last she checked but now awake and scrutinizing her through intensive, icy blue eyes.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and unfurled her legs that were stiffened from being bent most of the night.

As tired and caught off her guard as she may be, she fleetingly concluded that Enjolras was better looking in daylight. Even with being worse for the wear, his complexion held more color this morning, and his lean frame seemed relatively fit for having sustained gunshot wounds. She could see traces of torn flesh on his chest that peeked through his v-shaped night shirt. His rich voice, both genteel and robust, quickly interrupted her private musings, however.

"What are you doing in my room?"

Even if her intentions had been innocent, she knew she was now blushing profusely. She hadn't even become aware yet that she was still in a nightgown, one that hugged her body in all the ways it shouldn't in front of a strange man.

"I..." she started, not quite sure what to say.

Enjolras's eyebrows rose high on his head. "Yes?"

"I... Erm..."

"Are you unable to speak?"

Affronted, Éponine blinked and narrowed her eyes. "Of course I can speak!"

"Then answer my question: what are you doing here?"

"Well..."

"Hang on." He searched her face anew, the few lines around his eyes and the corner of his mouth stretching. "Do I know you?"

Éponine panicked and shifted about in her chair, wrapping her shawl more tightly around herself. "No... I - I don't think so."

Enjolras frowned, his eyebrows knitting together and making the features of his face even sharper. "Oh... Well, I'm still awaiting an answer to my question."

"I... I'm sorry," the words stammered out of her in a rush, "I'm staying down the hall from you and I overheard..."

Catching the peculiar flicker in his bright eyes, she wasn't sure if she should continue or simply run out of the room. Instead, she bit her bottom lip, willing herself to speak up.

"You have nightmares. I have them too. I wasn't sure if I should wake you or let you sleep. You calmed down after a time that I was in here, and I had every intention of just, erm, staying a little while to make sure you were all right but..." Éponine's brown eyes sheepishly scanned her surroundings. "I guess I fell asleep in your chair. It - It was unintentional, Monsieur, I swear it! I'm very sorry to have disturbed you. I'll - I'll just go."

Éponine stumbled to stand, forgetting that her legs were stiff and still half asleep, and nearly tripped over herself flying for the door. She had nearly made it when Enjolras called out to her to halt.

"Wait a moment, Mademoiselle—"

Éponine whipped her head around to face him and blurted out, "Please don't call me that," before she could stop herself.

Enjolras stared on, bewildered, though Éponine could understand why. Damn you for falling asleep, Éponine! she cursed herself. What on earth were you thinking?

Unbeknownst to her, however, Enjolras was taken aback for reasons other than waking to find a strange lady dressed in nothing but a hip-hugging nightgown next to his bed. Not only did he not know who she was, even though her face looked relatively familiar, but she apparently was no lady either. She certainly was pretty enough to pass for a Mademoiselle, not that he had ever had time to pay any mind to the peculiarities that were women.

Her flushed, round cheeks and half-messy waves, a few strands of which fell in her eyes, projected a sweet radiance that caught Enjolras by surprise, though only for a moment. He cleared his throat and was about to say something when the curious young woman cut him off a second time.

"Again, I - I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, Monsieur. Forgive me."

Éponine abruptly turned on her heel and scurried out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind her as she fled. "Who are you?" he called after her, his voice echoing down the hall. "What is your name?"

Éponine reentered her room, slammed the door, and sunk her weight against the wooden frame, heaving excitedly. Idiot! Foolish, damnedable idiot! she cringed and pounded her head. Why did you have to fall asleep? Why did you even have to interfere?

A few minutes later, having been completely absorbed with her thoughts, a light tapping at her door nearly sent Éponine scurrying onto her bed like a skittish animal. She whirled around and gasped, feeling slightly sickened and nervous.

"Who - Who is it?"

"Molly, Miss. Madame Pontmercy has brought over more clothes for you."

Éponine relaxed her shoulders and ran a hand through her unkempt hair, relief washing over her face. "I – I'm coming," she returned.

Forget about it, Éponine.

"I'm glad we have this quiet time this morning to talk," said Cosette, smiling as she poured herself and Éponine a hot cup of café au lait, which included rich, creamy milk and tartines smothered in butter and jam.

Éponine had never tasted such glorious food as what she had experienced the past several days in Monsieur Gillenormand's home. She could absolutely get used to the seemingly endless supply of bread, pastries, coffee, and sweet teas. The only matter that disappointed her this morning was not seeing Marius, or even his comically endearing grandfather.

"May I ask where Monsieurs Gillenormand and Marius are this morning?"

"Oh, Marius has class at the university and then works at the family law firm. It's good money for us and helps support his studies."

"I see."

Although she knew Marius was studying to become a lawyer, entering into the family business, Éponine concluded, must have only happened recently. She remembered when Marius used to swear off ever working for his grandfather, promising everyone within earshot that he would "find his own mark in the world." Then again, that had been when his grandfather disowned him.

How people change, she mused to herself.

"He's hoping to entice his friend to join once he is well," Cosette interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh?" Éponine felt apprehensive about touching upon the subject of Enjolras after the encounter they shared earlier that morning. "Isn't he a university student as well?"

"He is, yes."

Cosette paused to sip her coffee; it was difficult not to notice every graceful gesture the newlywed made, even as she stirred the milk with her pinky finger raised. Éponine wanted to find it all rather quirky and nonsensical, but, in truth, she was secretly impressed by how well groomed and ladylike Cosette had turned out to be.

Unlike me...

She wouldn't even attempt going down the path to admitting to want to imitate the girl. Not by a long shot. Instead, she stirred her coffee her own way, meek and clumsily, and awaited Cosette to continue the conversation.

"Enjolras is a man of no occupation at present. His father squandered his inheritance, but not before he managed to put most of himself through school. He's severed all ties with his family and makes his own way in the world now. I think that's something Marius has always admired about him."

Éponine's ears perked up. It strangely echoed of her own circumstances of late, having broken with her own family and gone on her own path, though it wasn't really in search of something better. Rather, luck, it would seem, dropped right into her lap. She wasn't quite sure yet how she felt about her newfound advantage, but, for the moment, she intended to soak it up and savor every ounce of it for what it was worth.

Thus, Éponine smiled and attempted to engage herself in discussion with Cosette, even if the woman's mere presence could still pain her. She was a constant reminder of everything Éponine wasn't, and likely never would, even though they had come from very similar beginnings. That, at least, was somewhat comforting to think on.

"What is he studying?" she asked, curious despite not wishing to recall the awkward morning she and the freedom fight had shared.

"Law, like Marius," Cosette explained as she smoothed out her napkin in her lap. Éponine double-checked her own to ensure it was in place, and that it wouldn't ruin the lovely purple, hand-me-down dress given to her to wear. "They've known each other for years, before they ever went to university. Enjolras is a couple years older than Marius, but I believe Marius looks up to him like an older brother, and Enjolras likewise. They're quite close."

"That's nice. I'd have never guessed they weren't the same age."

"Enjolras had a younger brother. I believe he died in his youth. Perhaps that's why he's always been rather protective of Marius." Cosette smiled fondly and asked, just as Éponine was biting into her buttered bread, "Do you ever speak to your sister?"

"No, I - I haven't. Not since... Since before the barricade."

Éponine could feel her eyes watering. For whatever reason—perhaps it was the mention of Enjolras having a younger brother who died, or the reality finally hitting her that she would never see her sister again—her mind turned to Gavroche, and a sudden pang in her chest swelled to the point that it was too much to bear. Éponine quickly rubbed her eyes and was about to make use of her napkin when a handkerchief was thrust into her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Éponine; I've touched upon a sensitive topic. That was uncivil of me. Please forgive my lapse of judgment."

If Éponine wanted to find fault in Cosette—and she did desperately wish to—her anger was absolved by the lady's sincere apology. "It - It's fine," she mumbled and dabbed the tears away as much as she could. "I lost my younger brother to the barricade. Mar - Marius and Enjolras knew him well. He hung about them and their friends quite often. They were all so very good to him. I... I suppose I haven't grieved properly, and it's all catching up to me." She brushed furiously at the tears that persisted, embarrassed by her raw display of emotion. "I'm s - sorry."

"No, please don't apologize, Éponine," Cosette insisted, reaching out to console her by taking her hand. "I should've treaded more carefully. I... I lost my father not too long ago. Grief comes in many forms and stages, and we all handle loss differently. My apologies."

After wiping away the remainder of her tears, Éponine regarded Cosette with more curiosity. "I'm sorry about your father," she found herself saying, surprised that she indeed meant it.

"Thank you," Cosette returned, giving her another sweet smile, though there was a sadness now perceivable in her eyes. "I'm doing well, though some days are more trying than others. But my father is with God, and that brings me comfort. He was such a good man." She paused to press Éponine's hand. "I'm sorry for your loss too, Éponine."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They returned to a comfortable silence—daintily sipping their coffees or munching on their breakfasts without much further discussion. Eventually, Cosette broke the quietude with another question.

"That night you saved Marius," she began, taking a moment to survey Éponine's reaction. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No, of course not," Éponine lied, trying not to showcase her nerves.

Had Marius told Cosette about her confession of love? He had been so quick to dismiss it before, and yet, had he mentioned it to Cosette, Éponine couldn't imagine, as good-natured and forgiving as the newlywed was, that she would be content with such information, knowing Éponine was now residing with them.

"Why did you do it?" Cosette asked, her voice hushed and subdued. "Why did you take a bullet for him? I... I confess it's quite admirable of you to lay down your life like that, but, well, I still don't quite understand it."

Éponine chewed the remainder of her food with extra caution, taking her time to sort out her answer before meeting Cosette's unwavering gaze. "I... I suppose it was excitement. I saw the musket being aimed and Marius was turned away from it; he would never have seen it coming. I... I simply reacted. It wasn't necessarily my intention to aim the gun at myself, more to push it out of harm's way, but... Well, the gun went off, and I was struck in the stomach."

Eventually, Cosette slowly shook her head. "You're very brave, Éponine. Did you know that? I'm not sure I could find the courage to do something like that."

"I daresay you could," Éponine returned after a moment. "When push comes to shove, it's easier than you might imagine."

Cosette cast her eyes to her hands that were hidden and laced together in her lap. "Can I ask you something else?" she pressed more quietly.

Éponine could feel her nerves rising but forced herself to nod. "Yes?"

Cosette's open, blue eyes met Éponine's guarded, brown irises, and there was a shift in them that took Éponine by surprise. Her entire face was freshly laden with skepticism, almost accusatory in her stare.

"Why did you keep my letter from Marius?" she drawled ever so carefully. "I know you gave it to him before... Before you drifted into unconsciousness, but... Why would you keep him from receiving my letter in the first place? Was there some reason? Some explanation I should know about?"

Éponine straightened in her chair. Every muscle in her jaw tightened, and, if a mere look could speak, Cosette's all-knowing expression told Éponine everything.

She knows. Good Lord, she knows...

Her mouth felt parched, and it took every ounce of composure not to crumble and give her position away. Éponine swallowed hard and tried to keep her eyes from darting to everything else in the room.

"Cosette, I..." Quickly, she resolved to tell at least half a truth. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I kept it from him, and I shouldn't have. I knew he was in love with you, that he was waiting on a word from you, and I..."

Cosette didn't blink or flinch. Her face remained perfectly poised and still. Her next words, however, made Éponine's throat drop into the pit of her stomach.

"Were you in love with him?"

Éponine's breath stalled. What was there to say? If she lied, Cosette would surely know it, and there would be no trust to build upon moving forward. If she told the truth, she risked having her good fortunate ripped away from her for sure. Not that she felt she deserved any of this, but the taste of a better life was now a hope she clung to, and losing it would be something Éponine knew her tattered nerves would never recover from.

Éponine considered what lay before her in this moment. Deep down, she knew who she was. No matter how much she may desire to move away from her old life, she would never escape her birth. She was a Thenardier, a mere street rat in more respectable clothing, and a misfit who would do whatever she had to do to make it to the next meal. So, she decided to tell another half truth.

"I... I was in love with him, yes," she confessed quietly, "but it was silly. He was and forever will be yours, Cosette. I've never seen him happier. That was all that I wanted for him, and it is all I wish for him now. I... I'm no longer in love with him," she forced the words out, though it was like taking a severe blow to the chest, "but I do love him as a friend. If you'll permit me, I... I'd like to continue caring for him as a friend, but that is all."

Cosette stared at her for an excruciatingly long period of time before her attractive features livened, much to Éponine's relief. "I'm sorry, Éponine. I hope you don't mind me asking? I just... I had to be sure is all."

The two smiled, though it was a mixture of strain and relief on both their parts. It was only then that Eponine realized she had been squeezing and coiling the napkin in her lap too tightly, and now her palms were sweaty. She loosened her hard grip of the material, a fine silk her parents would have surely killed to get a hold of.

"I understand. I... I don't mean to cause you or Marius any trouble."

"Now that we've cleared the air, there shouldn't be a problem going forward."

It was the most frank conversation they could have possibly shared, and the two women finished the remainder of their breakfasts in silence. Although the heavy atmosphere had lifted, Éponine couldn't quite be sure if she was in Cosette's good graces again or not.

The remainder of the day was slow and internally agonizing for Éponine. Cosette kept up the sweet pretense that all was well between them, but for Éponine, she mostly remained silent, mainly due to the shame that was gnawing at her insides. She hadn't been entirely truthful with Marius's wife, after all, and no matter how much she had wanted to continue on envying the woman and generally disliking her, Cosette was too good, too wholesome, too selfless and warmhearted for Éponine to find any faults. Instead, she found herself being roped right into Cosette's sphere, and realizing she rather enjoyed her company.

How could this be? They had never gotten on as children, although Éponine and her sister had mostly gone out of their way to ignore Cosette. Was it the act of lying that troubled her so? She had lied on the streets often enough, either to save her own skin or those she cared about.

By evening, she wanted to be grateful for Marius's and Monsieur Gillenormand's return, if only to have a break from conversation with Cosette, but she only felt worse. By supper, Éponine was fully prepared to excuse herself early and retire for the evening to be alone with her guilty conscience. Marius, however, started up right away upon his return, and Éponine found herself being pulled into his engaging chatter and charm, like always.

"The rebellion has been crushed, Marius," his grandfather issued with caution in his voice once the topic turned to the latest revolts.

"For now," Marius returned through a clenched jaw; Éponine noted Cosette's subtle move of linking her hand through her husband's. "Enjolras will want to know the latest." He turned to Cosette, giving her a tender gaze Éponine would have longed to receive. "How is he?"

"Better than expected."

Cosette had excused herself for a time in the afternoon to see to their guest, allowing Éponine her only hour of solitude to take in the gardens. Internally, she braced herself for questions about her entering the man's quarters in the middle of the night upon Cosette's return but, oddly enough, and much to Éponine's alleviation, none came.

"He asked about you, you know."

It took Éponine a moment to realize Cosette was speaking to her, and her eyebrows lifted, and with a twinge of panic. "Oh?" she tried to inquire as casually as possible.

"Yes," Cosette nodded, giving her a small smile. "He asked about you staying with us. He mentioned recognizing you, and once I explained who you were, he remembered."

Éponine quickly took that as her excuse to retire. "I'm sorry, Monsieur Gillenormand, would any of you mind if I went to bed early this evening?"

She inwardly prayed she would be granted such a favor. Luckily, no one objected, minus the several inquiries after her health and if she was 'feeling all right.'

"I'll see you to your room," Marius insisted, as they both rose to their feet. "I'd like to pay Enjolras a visit anyhow. I know we keep promising it, but one of these days you will get to see him yourself." He chuckled and shook his head. "I daresay the man can't wait to get out of his room, or have others besides ourselves for regular company."

We've already met, and with us both in our nightwear, no less.

Enjolras was awake when Marius entered his room and was laying against his pillows with a book propped on his knees, his body buried beneath a handful of blankets despite the summer breeze that floated in from the small, open window. Not only did the attractive gentleman possess more color in his face, but, to Marius, he also looked relatively well rested for a change. It was a welcoming development from how he had appeared not twenty-four hours ago.

Marius shot him a smirk from across the room. "What on earth are you reading?"

"How else am I to pass the time?" Enjolras retorted rather than answer.

"Well, it's nice to see you reading for a change."

Enjolras peered at Marius over the top of his book. "As opposed to..."

"Sleeping, feverish, talking incoherently..."

Enjolras's eyes returned to his book, his handsome face impassive. "I suppose it is an improvement."

"Just a touch."

Marius's smirk broadened. He closed the bedroom door and took a seat in the sofa chair beside Enjolras's bed. It was a moment or two before Enjolras broke the comfortable silence that sometimes passed between them, his eyes remaining focused on the reading material in his hands.

"Who did you say that friend of yours was? The one who's staying here now? Your wife told me earlier but I've forgotten."

Marius cocked his head to one side. "Éponine," he answered, eying his friend carefully.

"Is that the one?"

Marius arched an eyebrow. "The one?" he repeated, not following Enjolras's train of thought.

"Mmm, your shadow."

"Shadow?"

Enjolras eyed Marius sidelong, his features sharpened. "Yes... She used to follow you around everywhere, ton ombré." *

Marius shook his head, confused. "She was never my shadow, Enjolras."

"Then how do you explain how she miraculously showed up wherever we were?"

Marius narrowed his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Enjolras shrugged, nonchalant, and returned to his book. "Nothing."

Marius's eyes constricted, however. "Connerie!" ** he quipped, earning a smug smile from his friend.

"What brought her here?"

"You're full of questions this evening, my friend."

Enjolras's blue eyes met his. "You can go away and let me read, if my inquiries bother you?"

Marius chuckled and stretched one leg over the other, settling into his spot without any intent of leaving. "Apparently she heard the rumor that I was still alive and decided to pay me a visit. She also had nowhere to go."

A strange flicker passed by Enjolras's eyes, but the rest of his face remained neutral when he responded quietly, "And thus, the tales of miraculous survival continue..."

"Indeed." Marius paused to survey Enjolras thoughtfully. "I still need to hear yours, my friend, though perhaps another night."

Enjolras nodded in agreement and flipped the page of his book, resettling his head comfortably against his propped pillows. "Will she be staying long?" he asked after a time.

"Yes... As a matter of fact, she's staying indefinitely."

That earned Enjolras's attention. He raised his eyebrows in interest. "Oh?" Then his mouth slumped into a scowl. "Did you buy her?"

"No, I didn't have to. She's severed ties with her family."

"All the same, Marius, what makes you think they won't come looking for her?"

"I've considered that, trust me. I know who her parents are, though. They were the ones that crashed my wedding, remember? I told you about them?"

"Ahhh, yes..." Enjolras's face relaxed, though he appeared rather perplexed or distracted by the information. "The Thenardiers are her parents?"

From what Marius had described of the picket-pocketing swines, they were the lowliest of society, and their kind didn't seem contingent with the relatively meek but respectful-sounding girl he had met that morning. The Thenardiers were also well-known crooks, and any association with them immediately tainted one's reputation.

It took Enjolras nearly all day to put Éponine's face to memory. And when the remembrance of Eponine's former, less-than-presentable self surfaced in his mind—the street rat who hung about his comrades because she was so irrevocably in love with a man she couldn't have—Enjolras was surprised, and unnerved, that she had lied to him. Why wouldn't she simply tell him the truth: that they had met before?

Enjolras rightfully chose not to disclose to Marius or Cosette how he even came to know of her presence. He hadn't expected to wake up with the girl lying asleep in his bedroom, as though it were commonplace. Realizing who she was, and her family connections, he saw no reason to shame her further. So, he kept his face emotionless and asked his questions.

"Yes, they're her parents," Marius replied with another shake of his head. "I encountered them on the street once with Éponine, which was how I came to know of them at all. They are the worst sort. Anyway, they've left Paris, or so I instructed them to. Éponine is more free of them than I think she realizes. After recouping in a convent, she came straight here, so I don't think she understands that they've gone away and can't hurt her anymore."

"I hope you intend to tell her, Marius?"

"I do."

Enjolras's brow furrowed. "So, what do you intend to do with her?"

"Help her rebuild her life; give her a better future."

Enjolras was taken aback. "What, you mean you intend to elevate her into society?"

"Sure, why not?"

Enjolras's eyebrows angled. "Have you considered the consequences if anyone were to come looking for her; or if her past were to be uncovered? She'd be shamed and disgraced, Marius."

"For coming off of a fever, your mind is remarkably sharp," Marius chuckled, dismissing Enjolras's evident concerns with a wave of his hand.

As much as Enjolras cared for Marius, much like he felt for a younger brother, it aggravated him to no end how the man sometimes didn't think or see past the end of his nose. He shot him a critical look, and with a frown to match.

"Marius, I think you and Cosette wanting to help the girl is a noble gesture, but there are other less positive factors to consider." He paused, looking uncertain. "I hope you've thought this through..."

"I have, my friend." He burst into lighthearted laughter. "Why do you look so worried?"

"Because she's already experienced rock bottom, as have I," Enjolras said somberly, to which Marius's smile turned upside down. "Best to be cautious, Marius. Don't get her hopes up..."

Marius's frown deepened. "What happened to wanting to make a difference, Enjolras? To making a change for those less fortunate than us?" He drew forward in his chair, his eyes desperately searching the now impassive freedom fighter, who had once stood so passionately for democracy and elevation of the poor. "Vive la France, Enjolras, remember? What... What's changed?"

Marius felt a fool for asking, really. He understood Enjolras's pain as much as he understood himself, but he had secretly prayed that perhaps the fire hadn't left his dear friend, no matter how melancholic the man appeared on the surface. Losing their friends had been devastating—a heartache of the worst kind—and yet, Marius's beliefs, deep down, hadn't shifted away from democratic freedom and a stride for real change. Although such feverous sentiments were mostly locked away now, they were still as intense as ever, surging within for revenge for the friends they had lost.

Gazing upon Enjolras tonight, however, such feelings catapulted to the forefront of his mind. He saw the saddened change in the revolutionist with his own eyes. The light and intensity was gone, extinguished like a flame.

Enjolras's jaw clenched and his hands grasped his book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Everything's changed, Marius," he whispered, his voice much fainter than before. "Nothing will ever be as it once was; not ever again."

* Translation: "...your shadow." (Thank you to SavingViolets for the correction!)
** Translation: "Bullshit!"

A/N #2: You'll start to get more interaction between them soon, I promise. :) My review button's looking sad, won't you say something? Please?