A/N: I almost forgot about writing because of all the excitement in my life. Forgive me for ranting on for a moment, but I really must share: So I got my housing assignment and my final schedule for my first quarter of college and I'm super psyched. And then I went out on my first "real" date with my boyfriend of over a year because he finally got his license so he picked me up and took me out to a cool sushi place...it was awesome! And then I discovered that files I thought I'd lost on my old computer had transferred over to my new computer and were just hiding from me so I got all my old stories back, but this is still the story I'm most excited to write. Okay now back to business.
For those that are interested, I picture Enjolras as Aaron Tveit, but I hear Ramin Karimloo's voice. I adore Aaron, but his voice hust is NOT the right tone for Enjolras. As far as Eponine goes, it is most definitely Samantha Barks ALL THE WAY. Fareth Gates is a fantastic Marius (Nick Jonas was awful and I don't like Eddie Redmayne's vibrating face) and Katie Hall is by far my favorite Cosette (good Lord if you actually think Amanda Seyfried is a good singer please leave me life right now). And movie Gavroche is adorable, but the boy who played him in the 25th anniversary concert is also phenomenol so I'm not sure who I like more. Anyway, enjoy chapter three!
"Ay! Ponine!" a young voice called.
"Bonjour Gavroche," his older sister flashed him a smile. "Sorry for interrupting your big boy time," she teased. "I had to talk to Marius."
"Don't you always?" Gavroche rolled his eyes, turning to Enjolras. "Great speech tonight Monsieur!" he exclaimed.
"Thank you Gavroche," the leader replied. Enjolras wasn't fully convinced that having a ten year old join the revolution was beneficial, but the street rat had Courfeyrac wrapped around his finger and Gavroche was more dedicated to a better France than most members of Les Amis.
"Come on 'Vroche," Courf lifted him onto his back. "I've got left over dinner at my house and if I eat it all myself, I'll be too fat to fight in le revolution," he complained, winking at Enjolras as he left. Enjolras nodded in mute understanding. Gavroche did not take handouts, but he would gladly help a friend.
"I take it you have met Gavroche," Enjolras commented.
"It would be difficult not to, seeing as he is my brother," she replied sharply.
"I apologize, Mademoiselle, for offending you. You are welcome at any meeting, the same as any person of any gender or class is welcome at all meetings...so long as you are dedicated to the cause," he did his best to appease the girl who stood before him, but his speciality was in inspiring, not in appeasing.
"You clearly do not understand. I am the cause, oui? The people like me...the gamines...the poor of France...we will not rise for you," she sighed in frustration. "I will admit your cause is noble, Monsieur, but the pople of the streets will not be told what is best for them. They have been pushed down for so many years, they will not simply rise because a group of students tell them it is time. Oui Monsieur, they are tired of the life they live, but they are stubborn and proud. They fight for bread and shelter. Their life is war everyday. They don't care about freedom or equality. They want to see their children fed and be given a roof to sleep underneath. You may have inspired them, and reminded them that they have had enough, but they will not rise for you. They cannot risk it. Their life is war enough already, Monsieur. If you were as smart as your friends say, you would see that," she said pointedly.
Enjolras was simply about to refute her point by reciting all the comments he had heard from the poor and all the errors from the first Revolution he intended to fix. But suddenly he realized that he was having an intelligent conversation with a woman. This woman who was blinded by affection and distracted by heartbreak, was also capable of having an intellectual conversation about revolution. She was more ready to argue with him than any of his friends, who were so ready to follow him. While Enjolras was confident in his ability to lead and passionate in his will, he did not think he was perfect in the slightest.
"You make a fair point," he agreed. "I'm interested in hearing your perspective on a few other matters. Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?" Eponine paused before carefully replying. She was closed from everyone, evening her dearest Marius and brother Gavroche. It was a protective instinct.
"No I do not think so Monsieur. I've got some things to do before I leave Paris in a week or so," she affirmed.
"Leave Paris? Mademoiselle Eponine Paris needs people like you to fight Patria now more than ever," Enjolras frowned, mind directed toward the revolution and very little else. Eponine rolled her eyes in response.
"Patria has not been kind to me and I owe her nothing. Best of luck with your war, Monsieur," Eponine said as she started down the stairs. In a rare moment of panic, Enjolras said words he never would have in any other instance.
"You know, Mademoiselle, that Marius will fight by my side when I call. I would never force him, nor any of my friends, but all the Les Amis have promised themselves to our cause. If you love him, then do you not want to help improve his chances of surviving this fight?" the words fell sloppily out of his mouth. Love was not a term he used often and he never once had guilted someone into his revolution. He had never needed to, but he knew Eponine would be a great asset and his usual speech meant nothing to her. She was a different kind of passionate. She was passionate in the soul, but about matters of survival and matters of the heart. Enjolras was passionate in the soul, but about matters of the mind and the intangible. She had frozen for a moment at his words, but spun around quickly, her nostrils flared.
"You have no right to take his safety and dangle it in front of my face like a little mouse!" she spat on his shoes in disgust. "Marius is not helpless, nor am I!" she exclaimed, though her initial reaction faded at the thought of Marius being shot and falling to the ground behind a barricade destined to fail. "But for his sake-and the sake of all your schoolboys-I will help you. But just you remember, Monsieur," she sneered, "that I do not act for you or your cause. For someone who claims to care about the people you have a heart made of ice. I do not love easily, but I love. Perhaps your drunk friend is right," she paused, an evil smile on her face, "you are in fact made of marble," she finished with finality before storming down the stairs and out the doors of the Cafe Musain. As she left, Enjolras' face twisted in a way it rarely ever had. The corners of his mouth turned up as a small smile appeared on his face. And deep inside his heart of stone, Enjolras felt a small flame begin to warm the marble which had encased his intellectual heart for so long. When Enjolras returned home to his empty house, Grantaire was no where inside, he was only slightly more aware of the emptiness and lonliness he felt inside.
Eponine, however, knew that she had put herself in a horrible position. She had tied herself to Paris for an indefinite amount of time and had not secured a place off the streets to hide from the men who were undoubtedly searching for her. And in the midst of it all, she agreed to help the man she loved find someone else. She had nowhere to go, she she found herself wandering quietly as far from the Gorbeau house as she could go. As she walked she sang a soft song of a broken heart and a life of lonliness. With no other option, she found herself under the bridge where the Seine met the hard stone. She curled herself into a ball, leaning against the wall for support. The pain that the elixir had produced had since faded, but the pain in her heart grew more and more unbearable. She did her best to stop the tears which flowed from her eyes. Her father had taught her one thing in life: Thenardiers don't cry and they don't show their pain. For someone like her, life was pain and Eponine was a fool for believing in anything else. Love, equality, and freedom were impossible ideals saved for those born into money and privelege. They could buy the illusions, but those like Eponine and her family were born to the real world and struggled to survive one day at a time. When she could not stop the tears, she clamped herself shut and forced herself to sleep. She loved Marius Pontmercy, but her love would never be returned. She was destined to a life on her own.
When Eponine awoke the next morning, she was relieved to find herself still on the edge of the Seine instead of back in her room at Gorbeau. She smiled to herself, realizing that she'd never been away from her father and his abuse for so long. With that thought, her brow furrowed and she sighed deeply. She would have to be absolutely careful if she wanted it to stay that way. She didn't know who would still be out looking for her, but she knew they would not give up easily. She also knew that she had to keep her promise to Marius. The ache in her heart was not as severe as it had been and she knew that she would do it for him, no matter how much it hurt her because she loved him. She found her way back up to the pavement and slipped into the crowds that were already developing, heading to the area where Marius had said his mystery girl would no doubt return. The growling of her stomach made her huff in annoyance.
"Wouldn't it be simple if we just didn't need to eat?" she muttered to herself. Food was rare in her life, but it was something neither she nor her family could live without. And so she found herself, glancing through the crowd with the eyes of an experienced thief. She wasn't proud, but she was skilled. As the dirty brunette darted in and out of the small groups of people, a kind man walked arm in arm with his daughter, handing out small bits of money, food, and clothing to the beggars of the streets. He had known a hard life and had worked his way from nothing with only some silver from a good Bishop and the grace of God, so he had a kindness in his heart for those less fortunate. He taught his adopted daughter to share the same, but today her mind was elsewhere.
"Cosette, pull that extra shawl out of your bag," Valjean told his daughter softly, but she was not even listening. "Cosette!" he prodded a bit more sharply.
"Oh yes! Sorry Papa," she smiled, pulling it out and snapping out of her daze.
"Is something the matter, dearest?" his brown eyes stared down at her, full of worry. She'd been acting strange since the previous day.
"Oh no Papa," she shook her head. "I just thought I saw someone I recognized, but I didn't," she tried to explain, but her father was not convinced. She was not allowed out of the house without him and therefore had very few friends.
"Dear Cosette, you're such a lonely child. How quiet and pensive it must be for you, with only me to keep you company," he pondered. "Perhaps I should allow you to have a little bit of time on your own. Your almost eighteen, I think you could handle it."
"Really? Oh Papa that would be so wonderful!" she exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug. With her father out of the way for a while, she could search for the boy she had stumbled into yesterday. She had not caught his name, but her soul had been on fire. She was in love, and she just had to find out if he felt the same way. The two continued on there amble through the streets, finding more unfortunate people to share their goodwill with. As they came down the street on one end, Eponine selected her victim traveling from the opposite end. He was an upper class man, but unlike the pair of good Christians, he was shoving through people as if he were the most important person in all of Europe. He even dared to shout and spit at some people as he shoved them away. Eponine glared at him, knowing all too well what type of person he was. She also knew that he was too wrapped up in himself to notice a few coins go missing from the pocket of his huge coat. Just as her hand grazed the wool pocket, the man turned to snarl at a young girl standing near. Eponine's hand got caught in his jacket and she was thrown to the ground as he turned.
"Clear out of my way rat!" he shouted. He took a step away, stepping on one of the sous that had fallen out of Eponine's hand in the commotion. His eyes widened. "You dirty little thief! Scum of the streets trying to take MY earned money!" he ranted, reaching down to pick her up roughly. He drew back his fist, but Valjean appeared out of nowhere and pulled him back quickly.
"Good Monsieur, thank you for finding my charge! I thought I'd lost her. She's been sick in the mind ever since the poor incident. Her father, a captain, killed in battle," he clucked his tongue and quickly pushed Eponine behind him, where she came face to face with the Lark.
"Well," the man glared at Valjean and glanced at Cosette, reognizing their higher class and grumbling, "just be sure to keep her under control," he spat before leaving quickly. Eponine did her best to hide through her hair, not wanting Cosette to recognize her.
"Mademoiselle are you alright?" Valjean asked her sincerely.
"Oui, Monsieur, thank you but I must go," she said sharply with a nod before turning to leave. Cosette reached out and grabbed her arm and for a moment Eponine panicked.
"Wait! At least take this," she pressed a 5 sous piece into her hand with a smile. Eponine breathed in relief, nodded and dashed away. As soon as she got a good distance she paused to watch the two retreating.
"Cosette, now I remember. Cosette..." she breathed lightly, in shock. "How can it be? We were children together!" she exclaimed, looking up to the heavens as if God would immediately answer. "Look what's become of me," her eyes looked down at the ground in shame. She had almost been caught for only the second time in her life and the Lark who she had teased so relentlessly had saved her hide. Not only that, but she had shown extra kindness as well. It dawned on her then, that the blonde mademoiselle and the older gentleman that Marius had described must have been Cosette and her new Papa, her savior. Eponine looked grimly at them before laughing a dark unnatural laugh. How life had a cruel sense of irony. She took the money and threw it in the cup of a different beggar. She wouldn't take money from such a cruel trick.
A/N: At first this was incredibly short and I was disappointed, but I just forced myself to write a little bit more and then all of the sudden Cosette and Valjean were showing up! Ah well! I just want to give a huge shout out to my hugest supporter right now ShipperBody: YOU ARE AMAZING :D