A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and PMs on the last chapter. I'm hoping to be turning a corner here soon, and will continue to do my best to update when I can. Please keep the feedback coming. It really encourages my Muse, and I appreciate it so much.

Also, good luck to Les Misérables at tonight's Academy Awards!

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 8

"The world I have known is lost in shadow."
-Les Misérables

The hour was late when Éponine awoke from her dream, unconsciously clutching her stomach, frantically searching for any evidence of torn flesh or blood. Flushed and sweaty, Éponine immediately sat up and threw back the sheets, allowing the cool, night air to bathe her perspiring skin in a comforting chill. The light breeze on her neck felt divine as she tossed her hair to one side and shimmied out of the comforts of her warm bed, trying to re-gather hers wits.

It wasn't often anymore that Éponine dreamed of her near death experience—how the bullet that ripped through her skin like torn fabric pierced her in the gut, leaving her breathless and in numbed shock. Yet, nightmares weren't unknown to the girl who had risen from ruin, from the darkened corners that the likes of Enjolras knew not.

Well, not on any personal level...

Éponine sighed and threw on her shawl. The air was growing chillier; she could feel the autumn settling in, replacing summer's warm embrace. Though the seasons were changing, along with Éponine's circumstances, Enjolras's remained questionable at best.

Don't concern yourself with it, Éponine, she reminded herself as she stood by the window overlooking an abandoned cobblestone street and fancy estates. It's none of your business, even if you do care.

Care? Was she supposed to care about the man when she barely knew anything about him, except for hearsay and what the Pontmercies passed on to her? Why do you care? I doubt he cares about you...

Then would he have agreed to educate me?

I'm sure he'd do so for anyone.

That may be true, but the way he looks at me...sometimes...

Don't even go there. That's absurd! Utterly ridiculous! It's in your head.

...Is it?

And anyway, what about Marius?

What about him? He's a married man now, and I never stood a chance with him. He was never mine to lose.

I know but... Well, then whatever this 'caring' is for Enjolras, it's platonic. There's nothing wrong with caring about someone's welfare, is there?

No...

Then quit over thinking things! I'm sure he doesn't even think twice about you. You're his pupil, and a street rat in more presentable clothing. That's all he sees when he looks at you. That's all anyone will ever see...

Éponine huffed and wrapped her shawl more securely around her shoulders. She knew she should go back to bed, try and fall back asleep for a few more hours, but her conscience was now fully awakened, and, already being accustomed to so little rest, Éponine climbed back into bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, and allowed her mind to wander as it so often did. She could only hope daydreaming might drive away the unsettling sensations that had washed over her about the strapping, though troubled, tutor down the hall, until a soft moan reached her ears, and her spine straightened against her headboard.

Enjolras.

Without further consideration to what she was doing, Éponine hopped out of bed, tip toed out of her room, and down the hall to the gentleman's chambers. She wasn't surprised to hear the echo of his nightmares, muffled as they may be. Though they weren't as frequent as they had been when she first arrived weeks ago, Éponine found herself awakening at every turn that they occurred, and couldn't help but wonder, as she crept into Enjolras's room, if he ever overheard her own.

Sure enough, Enjolras was tossing and turning like before, though not as violently as she had seen in nights' past. He was mumbling under his breath as well, calling out into the darkness to his fallen friends, now reduced to nothing but ash and dust.

"You...brought them...to this," she heard him utter in a broken whisper, his head flinching back and forth. "You've...killed them... Killed...them...all..."

Éponine swallowed hard and quickly took a seat on the edge of his bed. Without hesitation, she took Enjolras's hand in hers, awestruck by how quickly his twisted body relaxed to her touch. Within minutes, his contorted expression faded away, leaving his face wrinkle-free and unbothered. His breathing evened, with his mouth slightly gaped, and he didn't so much as twitch as he fell back into an undoubtedly deeper and unperturbed sleep.

How was it possible for her merely taking his hand to have such a drastic effect on him, on them both? Éponine inadvertently smiled and settled in beside him, leaning on her elbow as she watched Enjolras sleep undisturbed. His supple lips were slightly wet, and a glimpse of a lightly furred chest peeked through his nightshirt for her to see.

Éponine had no idea why that made her blush, but she quickly averted her eyes, gazing instead at the larger fingers woven between hers. It seemed odd the way their hands so perfectly 'fit' one another's...

Don't be silly, Éponine! she scolded, swiftly coming to her senses. Erm, where on earth were you going with that anyway?

No idea.

Éponine shook her head to will the confounding thoughts away and slunk her head against the mattress, again near Enjolras's blanketed feet, and willed herself to close her eyes. She no longer worried whether or not she would manage to fall asleep in this room, and in this gentleman's presence—she had already done so several times. Him catching her, however, was another matter, one she would deal with in the morning if it came to it.

For now, Enjolras's warm hand embracing hers was too calming to worry, so she nodded off to sleep, this time unfazed by the dreams that awaited her, knowing that, in Enjolras's presence, they would likely be pleasant ones.

Éponine's internal clock jolted her out of sleep at dawn, and her ears were greeted by the soft pounding of rain against Enjolras's bedroom window. The place was still quite dark, but shadows of droplets seeped down the walls, giving the soothing illusion of what lay just beyond the dry comforts of home.

Was this home? Éponine couldn't help but wonder. Would she ever feel like she truly belonged here, amongst Marius's and Enjolras's kind?

Choosing to ignore those questions, Éponine focused instead on the humming of the rain. Rainfall had always been a comfort to her since she was a youngster, and it's morning greeting made her smile as she yawned and reluctantly made to sit upright in bed. Then, her voice broke the stillness with a gasp.

If she had hoped to sneak out of Enjolras's room undetected, she was out of luck. Again.

Enjolras was already awake and sitting up against his headboard with his arms criss-crossed over his chest. His icy blue eyes bore into hers as though they might freeze her to the quick. As it was, Éponine was frozen in place by his stare, which she could only conclude was one of outrage mixed with bewilderment.

"Do you make it a habit of sleeping with men you don't know?"

Éponine's mouth fell open. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." Taking in her look of utter shock, followed by shame, Enjolras groaned and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Éponine, I didn't mean it like that. I'm too blunt for my own good."

"Be that as it may..."

"I'm sorry, all right? I just..." He sighed, his hands collapsing onto the bed. "What are you doing here? Again?"

Éponine recoiled to the bedpost and her knees bent to her chest, as though she were trying to shield herself from a blow she figured Enjolras would unleash upon her. Her skittish withdrawal didn't escape Enjolras's notice. He threw up his hands, almost as a peace offering.

"Éponine," he replied with, to her, surprising gentleness, "I'm not going to hurt you. I would never..."

The nervous twitch in her eyes shocked him, and Enjolras reacted by leaning slightly forward in bed. "What right would I have to harm you?" His eyebrows angled with worry. "Surely, I've never given you the impression that I'm that sort of person?"

"Oh... I... No, you haven't." Realizing that she was trembling a little, and for no justifiable reason, Éponine slowly unfurled herself, allowing her legs to drape over the side of the bed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even aware of my reaction. Erm, nature of habit, I suppose."

"I may rightly question what you're doing here, Éponine, but I would never..." Enjolras and Éponine stared at each other for a pause, with Enjolras not being able to suggest what her mannerisms implied. "I'd never do such a thing to you. Ever," he finished with feeling.

"I - I know. I'm sorry," she apologized a second time, and then laughed nervously. "I don't know why I did that."

"Because you're used to that sort of action and reaction?"

Éponine bit her lower lip, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Perhaps..."

"You needn't be ashamed, Éponine. Others' ill treatment isn't your fault."

The look Éponine shot him was one of both relief and a desperate pleading to drop the subject. Enjolras respectfully did so with a small grunt. He cleared his throat, his sober expression intact.

"I take it you're here because I had another nightmare that awoke you last night?"

"I... Yes. Well, not entirely, I was already awake but..."

"I apologize. I wish there was a way to stop them. It would save you feeling the need to trek down here every other night."

"I don't 'feel the need,'" Éponine hastily responded; realizing the vagueness of her response by the strange manner with which Enjolras met her outburst, she fumbled to give a more polite explanation. "I mean, I do care about what you're going through, Enjolras, please don't misunderstand me, but I - I only wish to help you feel better. I never mean to disrespect your privacy by coming in here unannounced. I figured it was better to try to calm you down rather than wake you, that's all."

"You don't have to explain."

"No, really, I think I do!"

"You've already done so before." Enjolras turned away from her to fiddle with his blankets, leaving Éponine confused by the fresh scowl he wore. "And anyhow," he continued, "shouldn't you be more concerned with Marius?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I thought that's why you came here: to see to it that he was well taken care of."

"I did, yes, but—"

"Then you needn't bother coming here when it isn't warranted."

"Enjolras, I don't under—"

"You may go," he abruptly cut her off with a curt nod, a few curls cascading into his eyes, which he tried to brush away. "I'm sorry again for my inconvenience. I will do my best in the future not to wake you, Mademoiselle."

"Please, Enjolras, don't send me away," she surprised them both by requesting. An uneasy silence hung between them before Éponine broke it by way of further explanation. "I want to help; I really do. I wouldn't be here if I felt any differently."

"I appreciate your concern but—"

"But what?" Éponine shook her head, dismayed, and rattled Enjolras by scooting closer to him. "You think you're the only one who struggles to get to sleep at night? Who has a hard time letting the past go? Believe me, I know what that's like."

She put up a hand to stop Enjolras from speaking, allowing her to press on uninterrupted. "I struggled to sleep so many nights in the convent that sometimes the insomnia was unbearable. You needn't suffer so needlessly. Me being here...it does seem to help you rest better. I'm willing to keep you company if it will help you. In fact, I'd like to, erm, as long as the idea doesn't make you too uncomfortable? I know it's hardly appropriate, but, well..." She struggled to smile through the awkwardness, twisting her hands together in her lap. "What the Pontmercies don't know can't hurt them, right?"

Enjolras didn't so much as blink, hardly knowing how to reply to her offer. An unmarried woman sleeping in his room, under the same roof as his best friend, and all because he couldn't cope with his own mind? His hands tightened around the bedsheets, scrunching and wrinkling them around his fists.

"I know you're coming from a good place, Éponine, but you cannot help me."

"How do you know?" Éponine's brown eyes held more illumination in their depths than Enjolras remembered, and he felt himself being drawn into them against his better judgment. "I can sleep in the sofa chair if that is more preferable. I don't mind."

Enjolras ground his teeth together and darted his eyes about the room, trying to listen to the humming of the rain against his window pane. Why was the young lady's offer so tempting, when it was quite improper and wrong to even suggest such an idea?

Éponine surprised him by lightly touching his arm. When their eyes met again, he found a deep-seated understanding looming behind them, and was short of words.

"Your struggle's safe with me," she insisted quietly, "regardless of whatever you decide."

Enjolras blinked, his gaze falling upon the prettiness of her heart-shaped face. After contemplating the matter, he sighed heavily and uncoiled his hands from the tangled bedsheets.

"I suppose I'm willing to allow you to stop by if it's necessary, but I'd prefer that you simply wake me if I'm keeping you awake, and return to your room. If one of the servants or the Pontmercies were to catch you in here, Éponine, I needn't convey the consequences."

"You think they wouldn't be understanding?"

"I doubt it. Marius is quite practical, like me, but I have a tough time believing even he'd understand this. His wife is sweet, but naive, and I daresay she wouldn't appreciate it if she knew."

"I daresay you're right about both." Suddenly aware that she was still touching Enjolras's arm, Éponine drew back, and gave a respectful bow. "I'll be discrete, I promise, and I'll respect your wishes. If you wish me to wake you and return to my quarters, I will."

Enjolras's strong features scrunched as he stammered to release a "Thank you," in response to her help.

"You're welcome," Éponine returned simply with a genuine smile. She silently rose and threw the shawl back around her shoulders, forgetting how exposed she was in her hip-hugging nightgown. "For what it's worth, Enjolras, I hope you're nightmares stop. They seem to have lessened recently, though. Have you noticed?"

Enjolras blinked. "No, I hadn't."

"Mmm. Well, they have. That has to be a good sign of your progress."

"I'd like to think that but..." His voice trailed off, as did his gaze, towards nothing in particular.

Éponine stepped closer. "Really," she insisted in a quiet whisper, smiling faintly when Enjolras peered up at her again. "You're making great strides. That's the important thing, and I... I'm glad. Very glad."

"Are you?"

Éponine's visage turned serious, though her brown eyes remained thoughtful as they stared into his. "Yes, very."

Éponine bowed her head again and took her leave, unaware of Enjolras's curious eyes trailing after her as she disappeared beyond his room. Her words, however, lingered behind, despite the overbearing silence that her absence brought.

A shiver tingled down Enjolras's spine, but it had little to do with the early morning cold. Rather, it was something else. Something else entirely.

"Try again."

Increasingly aggravated, Éponine did her best to focus on the task of forming the few words assigned in her textbook. So far, she gathered that she wasn't doing well at all, although Enjolras hadn't shown any indications of losing patience with her.

Taking in a calculated breath, Éponine read the text for the umpteenth time, slowly at first, then faster and with less errors as her mind and mouth formulated sense of what she was reading. It took most of the morning, but, after accomplishing the feat several times without a single blunder, she beamed at Enjolras, immensely proud of the strides she had made in one short lesson. Enjolras cracked a half smile for her, illustrating in his own quiet way that he too was pleased.

"Would you care for a break?"

His offer surprised Éponine. Normally, they didn't break till mid-morning, and it surely couldn't be so late as yet.

"Oh! I suppose, if you'd like?"

As Éponine rose to stretch her legs, she was taken aback when Enjolras did as well, though it took considerable effort to get to his feet. Usually, he had stayed put when they broke for tea, allowing Éponine to occupy herself for a short while. This routinely consisted of wandering the halls to relax her mind, but it would seem this morning that Enjolras was wishing to do the same.

Using his cane for balance, Enjolras slowly walked behind her out of the room, where he then reared off in the opposite direction, leaving Éponine momentarily stranded in the doorway. "Enjolras?" she called to him; he casually turned his head, waiting. "Might I join you?"

Enjolras nodded reservedly. "If you'd like," he repeated her words from earlier, a peculiar smile drawing across his lips that made Éponine blush.

At first, they strolled together in a rather comfortable silence. The only sounds breaking the quietude were the shuffling of their feet, as well as the faint stomping of Enjolras's cane as he leaned on it to help him walk. His pacing was quite slow, but Éponine didn't mind and preferred not to be rushed, so long as her tutor felt likewise.

"You seem to be finding your bearings," Enjolras finally commented, causing Éponine to turn her head and grin.

"I'd like to think I am."

He eyed her sidelong, his blue irises brighter than before. "You've changed. I can see it."

"Have I?" Éponine chuckled, and a few soft waves of her hair brushed against her rose-colored cheeks. "I'm so clumsy most of the time, I often wonder if I'm making any progress at all."

"You are," Enjolras insisted, the feeling in his voice intriguing. "Cosette must be quite the instructor."

"She is, actually."

It somewhat pained Éponine to admit to that reality, but, then again, the dynamics between the two women had changed drastically, and for the better. It was a feat that gave Éponine pause as they continued their casual stroll of the first level of the house.

"Are you feeling more at ease with them now?"

"I'm not quite certain what you mean?"

A muscle in Enjolras's jaw twitched, and he focused his attention ahead. "I fear I'll be too direct if I put my question to you a different way, Éponine."

Éponine halted their walk altogether, which forced Enjolras to stop as well and gaze down into her slightly angst-ridden expression. "I think I do know what you're getting at, and the answer is yes," she confessed, keeping her voice low; Éponine wasn't sure why she felt comfortable enough to share such confidences with the man, but she ignored the reservations at the back of her mind for once. "I'm trying to move forward as best I can, and I think my heart is finally starting to catch up with my mind."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Éponine could feel her face burning all of a sudden. "Was I really so obvious?"

Enjolras's fetching smirk softened her humiliation. "I'm afraid you were. Well, to all but Marius himself. He's a good man, but he's not the most observant of fellows."

"No, I daresay he isn't, but he is good."

"Precisely."

As they began to move forward, turning a corner and entering another abandoned hallway, Éponine returned the question. "And you?" she pressed, mindful of putting the question as delicately as possible. "Are you more at ease; or, should I say, are you feeling more like yourself again?"

Enjolras's serious gaze drew away from her towards a large window that overlooked the garden, which was now bare, brown, and withering away. He swallowed, his eyes attentive as he stared ahead without much emotion outlining his face.

"Not yet," he returned in a pained sort of whisper, as Éponine quietly looked on, "but perhaps I'll get there...some day."

Enjolras gave her a forced smile that echoed of sadness and rattled Éponine to receive. She would have preferred his brutal honesty from a moment ago to the false bluff she found now. There was no mistaking the fragility that lay beyond the surface of his perfectly carved face, however; or those sky blue eyes that could turn hot and cold at a moment's notice. He started to push forward in a fictitious fashion that tugged at Éponine's nerves. She stayed back, watching him struggle to walk for a moment, before calling out to him.

"Enjolras?"

When he slowly turned around, Éponine inhaled deeply and stepped closer, until she was practically pressed up against him, with her neck craned to stare into his eyes, finding the false sense of security nearly unbearable to look at. Unable to smile, she regarded him seriously.

"I know you're going through quite an ordeal. You nearly lost everything that day. You don't..." Swallowing her nerves, Éponine willed herself to keep going. "You don't have to suffer on your own, you know. I hope you know you have people you can talk to about it, if you'd like?"

Enjolras considered her words for a moment before his eyes fell to the floor. "Thank you," he replied tacitly, "but, as I've relayed to you before, there's no one who can help me." He slumped slightly and started to walk again, when Éponine too stepped forward, keeping pace with him.

"I beg to differ."

"With all due respect, Éponine," he emphasized with his free hand raised to stop her, "I know what you're trying to do, and if Marius put you up to this, I will speak to him personally—"

"Marius? He has nothing to do with this."

"Oh." Enjolras's brow knitted, both confused and unsure. "Then why?"

To this, Éponine smiled; her demeanor was calm and inviting to the gentleman staring at her, trying to make sense of her interest.

"Does one need a reason to help someone else?"

"Not necessarily, no."

Éponine brought her hands together in front of her. "I know you think that you're beyond help, Enjolras, but you aren't." Provoked by his pensive-looking expression, Éponine's smile widened. "If there's anyone who understands what it's like to feel perilous, it's me."

"I'm sure you're right."

"Have you considered what you'll do?" She reconvened their mindless stroll, trying not to focus on Enjolras's physical limitations as they ambled slowly onward.

"Do?" he repeated, his eyebrows angled.

"Yes... In the future, once you've recovered?"

After a pause, Enjolras's eyes hardened, not meeting hers. "I don't think about the future too much."

"Why not?"

"Because I find that thought process dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Éponine eyed him curiously. "Why dangerous?"

"Because false hope is never a healthy mindset to live by."

Éponine allowed the silence to fill between them for a time before letting out a weighty sigh. "That sounds more like defeatist talk than anything else."

"You shouldn't presume," Enjolras retorted, his attitude now freshly snippy. It caused Éponine's eyes to narrow in his direction.

"How do you expect to recover with that sort of mentality?"

"Why do you push to speak about things you don't understand?"

Éponine jolted and stopped, facing him head on. Enjolras did likewise and there was unmistakable irritation on his flushed face; he was rather breathless too from the exercise they had made trekking across the house.

"I understand a great deal about your suffering, Enjolras," Éponine attempted to explain calmly, though it only seemed to ruffle him further. "More than you give me credit for."

"What do you know apart from your own suffering?" he challenged. "You know nothing of what I went through, nor what I go through now."

"You're right, I don't; not entirely."

"'Not entirely'?" he huffed, leaning on his cane to steady himself. "Did you lead men to their deaths? Did you watch your friends die before your eyes—"

"No, I didn't—"

"And do you have their blood on your hands? All of those men? Are you responsible? Are you?"

"No, of course not," Éponine found herself taken aback, the realization of Enjolras's heartache clawing its way to the surface. "But neither are you!"

Enjolras stomped his cane and his entire face altered into a mixture of outrage, disgust, and pain. "Don't say such things to me!" he all but shouted at her, breathing strenuously. "You may think yourself wise, Éponine, but you lack fortitude in saying what is versus what you'd like to hear!

"I am responsible! I led those men—my brothers, my friends, including your brother—to their deaths! They lost their lives because of me, and I must contend with their loss the rest of my days! If I hadn't been so reckless, so careless, they'd still be alive! Yes, Gavroche too! You cannot undo what I've done, nor make it better for me by discussing it!"

Enjolras whirled his head around and headed off in the opposite direction, but he didn't get far before having to stop and grip the wall to keep from falling. Éponine cautiously made her way to his side, watching him hang his head. Gently, she extended a hand out to take him by the arm.

"I'm sorry, Enjolras," she whispered, hardly knowing how to address his suffering. "It wasn't my aim to upset you like this. Come, let's return to the parlor."

"No," he firmly shook his head, still breathless. "Not yet."

"Would you prefer to return to your room?"

"No," Enjolras insisted, and fully turned himself to look at her, letting go of the wall once he was sure his balance had returned.

His pain-filled eyes bore into hers, filled to the brink with a silent torment he could no longer hide. Éponine was lost for words and could only stare back, her eyebrows angled with concern. She held onto his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze as a sign of her understanding; a small gesture he appeared to wordlessly appreciate.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you," he managed after a considerable pause. "I don't mean to."

"You needn't apologize; it's fine."

"Even so..."

Enjolras locked eyes on Éponine again, only in a peculiar manner that felt remarkably different from before. It was almost yearning, unless Éponine was gravely mistaken. She found herself trembling, despite herself, and leaned closer. Enjolras did likewise, to the point that they could hear one another's rapid breathing.

Éponine was busy trying to formulate words when Molly unexpectedly came shuffling from around the corner. Looking disgruntled and scowling as usual, she made quick survey of the pair of them. Quickly, Éponine stepped away, not really even sure why she felt compelled to do so, and Enjolras straightened his shoulders.

"Monsieur?" Molly hurried over, shooting down Éponine first. "Might I help you back to the parlor?"

"That would be kind of you, Molly, thank you," Enjolras muttered, sauntering away looking freshly cross. Éponine trailed off after them in silence.

It took quite a while to get Enjolras back to the parlor, and watching him struggle was disconcerting for Éponine, who found herself wanting to intervene. Molly was too elderly to support him but shot her a dirty look every time she reached out a hand to help. Éponine angrily glared back, but there was little to be accomplished by speaking out of turn, so she followed them along quietly.

After situating Enjolras comfortably in a wingback chair, Molly exited the room, where Éponine was standing by, awaiting her leave. Thus, she was shocked when the grumpy, old maid shambled forward and drove Éponine back against the wall.

"Monsieur Gillenormand wouldn't like what you're doing, Missy!" she hissed, pointing a plump finger in her face. "Nor would the Pontmercies! Gettin' their ill guest all excited and worked up!"

"I've done nothing to—"

"And touchin' him at that!"

Éponine's eyes enlarged. "What? I haven't—"

"I saw you! Makin' a pass at poor Monsieur, after the Pontmercies took you in, out of the goodness of their hearts! You ungrateful hussy!"

"Now wait just a minute—"

"I been workin' here a long time, and I've seen the likes of your lot before! You think you can pull the curtain over my eyes, but I see who you are! You're no better than a common prostit—"

"How dare you!"

Éponine charged forward, and Molly stumbled backward but managed to right herself. She carried on with her rant, however, her upper lip curled in abhorrence.

"I know what you're doin', and I ain't goin' to sit by and let you upset Monsieur Gillenormand's guest, nor trick him with your sinful ways!"

"You're out of line!" Éponine fired back, feeling the suppressed anger within her rising. She balled her hands into fists, willing herself to not speak so loudly that Enjolras might overhear.

"You better watch your back if you know what's good for you!"

With that, Molly stuck up her large nose at Éponine and hurried away, not glancing back once. She disappeared at the end of the hallway, leaving a stunned Éponine at a loss where she stood, shaken by the hateful encounter she had just had. It was only once Enjolras called to her to return to her studies that Éponine drew out of her shock and offense, though her heart continued to beat excitedly.