Well, I'm sick and home from classes today. So here's another chapter, yay! Now back to my papers.

-sigh-

Enjoy!

Feuilly awoke several hours later, feeling cheerful and refreshed, despite a pain in his lower back. He sat up and stretched, reaching for A History of Italy on the chair. He would read a bit before he woke Eponine to have her take her medicine.

His hand ran over the smooth fabric of the cushion, finding nothing. He turned to survey the empty chair, and looked around on the floor, wondering if the book had fallen somewhere.

"What are you lookin' for?" Eponine's voice floated down from the bed. Feuilly stood and saw that she was sitting upright, propped up by pillows, and reading the book. He pointed to it.

"That."

"Oh. I jus'…I couldn't sleep anymore. You were asleep, an' I didn't think you'd mind if I read it a bit."

"Of course not," Feuilly said, smiling, "I've got many books. You can read as many as you like while you recover." His stomach growled, and he realized that he hadn't eaten all day.

"Are you hungry, Eponine?" he asked.

"No," she replied. The little color that sleep had kissed her cheeks with was fading, and the beads of sweat were beginning to stand out on her forehead again. As Feuilly left to make himself some food and her a little broth, she began to feel tired, and rearranged the pillows so she could lie down. The little effort that it took exhausted her, and she collapsed weakly onto them, breathing a bit heavily.

Eponine was only half conscious when Feuilly came back with warm broth for her and some bread and cheese and meat for himself. She had slipped into a feverish delirium, and was fretful, crying out softly at a phantom that didn't exist.

"Eponine," Feuilly said softly, bringing her back to him, "I've brought you something to eat."

" 'M not hungry," she mumbled, pulling the covers up to her chin, "Jus' cold."

"Please, will you try and eat? It's time to take your medicine too."

"I can't," she protested weakly.

"I'll help you. All you have to do is swallow, all right?"

"All right."

Feuilly gently lifted her head and poured a little powder on her tongue. She made a half-disgusted face and swallowed the spoonful of broth he put to her lips. The warm liquid caused her to make a weak attempt to rid herself of blankets, and to whimper that she was too hot. Feuilly gave her cool water and put a damp rag on her forehead, and soon she was shivering.

He sat in bed with her and held her through the fever, through the chills and the nightmares that haunted her.

Feuilly got very little sleep for the next week, spending every waking moment reading to Eponine, or helping her read, trying to get a little food into her, and giving her medicine. Only when she was peacefully sleeping would he lie on the hard floor and catch a quick nap. He also had his job to keep up; with her there he needed the money.

As a result, he looked a bit haggard at the next meeting of the ABC Friends, and les amis were quick to pick up on it. Courfeyrac looked on in amusement as Feuilly spilled the whole story. Joly, laughing in the corner, took a bet from the last amis: Enjolras himself, who was incredibly pleased with the situation.

However, not even the prospect of a beggar girl marrying one of the Friends of the ABC could deter Enjolras for long, and he started in on one of his triumphant speeches of barricades and uprisings. He had decided that they would build their rampart in the summer months, as it would be easier to hold out if they were blockaded.

Grantaire slammed his hand against the table, making the men jump and look at him in surprise.

"Damnit, Enjolras! You're always ruining things for me?" he cried out.

"What did I do this time, Winecask?" Enjolras inquired dryly, not looking terribly interested.

"My bet was for June!"

"You realize that July and August are summer months, and even May might be summery enough to camp out if need be," came the reply.

"Yes, but…now I've told you, and you're going to schedule it for June on purpose! Damnit!"

A general chuckle broke out among the crowd, and Feuilly fought back a blush, looking calmly over at the other man.

"That's what you get for gambling," he scolded Grantaire, who threw him a dirty look. This prompted Feuilly to continue,

"Oh, and our bet is back on. So I'd like those five francs back, if you please."

The chuckle turned into a roar of laughter, and even Enjolras' fire was lost for a few minutes in the camaraderie. Combeferre slapped Feuilly on the back, and Courfeyrac shook his hand. Grantaire was quite genial as he handed the five francs over to Feuilly, remarking that he would get them back soon enough.

Feuilly grinned lopsidedly and didn't argue. Just then, Enjolras cleared his throat loudly enough to command the attention of the room, which fell silent. Joly winked at Feuilly as their leader began in on an elaborate diagram.

A few hours later, Feuilly was walking home. It was snowing again, and he worried for Eponine. The house would be chilly, and she was still weak from being sick. Would she be able to stoke the fire and keep herself warm? She was so vulnerable to pneumonia now that she had been ill once, according to Joly.

But she was fine when he got home, sitting up and reading. She had been doing that a lot lately, and he never got tired of answering her questions, of explaining the pronunciation of this word and the meaning of that one. Eponine proved to be a quick learner, and Feuilly was pleased with her progress. She had made it a quarter of the way through A History of Italy already.

He kissed her forehead, achingly aware that he hadn't yet gotten a real kiss from her, but willing to wait. She smiled up at him.

"How are you feeling today, ma chère?" he asked, sitting on the hard wooden chair.

"I feel better!" she said hopefully, "I think soon I'll be able to start 'elping you with your fans again."

"Actually, I may have a better idea," he said, smiling, "how would you like a job of your own in a book shop?"

"I…" Eponine was speechless, but her face was lit up.

"The man who runs my favorite book shop asked me if I knew anyone who would like a job. I said I was acquainted with the perfect young lady. You start next week."

She let out a thoroughly uncharacteristic squeal and hugged him.

"Thank you so much! I'll finally be able to earn me own keep, 'onestly!" she said delightedly.

"And the position includes a little apartment over the shop. You'll have your own house," Feuilly said. Eponine looked a little taken aback at that.

"You don't want me 'ere with you?" she asked timidly, "I thought you were fond of me."

"It's not that I don't want you here," Feuilly explained gently, "or that I'm not fond of you. It's just not proper for an unwed couple to live under the same roof."

"Oh. Will I still see you?"

"Of course, chère. As much as you'd like," he replied, stroking her hair tenderly. This seemed to be enough for Eponine.

"I 'ave always wanted me own 'ouse," she said thoughtfully, "with flowers on me windowsills and a pretty quilt on me own little bed."

"Oh, there's one thing," Feuilly said, wincing a little at her bad grammar, "you've got to learn how to speak a bit better."

"What's wrong with the way I speak?" Eponine demanded.

"Well, nothing big really, there's just a few grammar problems, and you use words wrong…" he said carefully.

"I don't talk like you," Eponine said bluntly. He nodded.

"But you can teach me? Before I 'ave to start working?"

"Of course I can. And it won't be hard for you, I'm sure. We'll start tomorrow, all right?"

"All right," Eponine nodded determinedly. Feuilly smiled and moved to the edge of the bed, taking her into his arms. She was still thin, he thought, but she was filling out. Her bones weren't quite as sharp, and her face had color all the time now. She smiled more and her hair had taken on a sheen now that she was bathing regularly. The effect was quite pleasing.

"Oh, Eponine. You're very dear to me, do you know that?" he asked tenderly.

"You've been very good to me," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder, "an' I 'avent thanked you properly. You saved me life."

"You needn't thank me," Feuilly said, "I did it because I care for you, Eponine. The greatest thanks is knowing that you feel the same way about me."

"Maybe I can do one thing more," Eponine said. And she raised her face to his and kissed him, her arms winding around his neck as his pulled her close.

Neither knew how long the kiss lasted, and neither wanted it to end. But finally they broke apart, panting a little, eyes glowing at each other. And then they smiled, for they had ever dreamed of finding the joy of love in their first kiss.

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