On a plane from Denver to Billings. Ack. Also, I have a final paper due Monday and finals are next week, so chapters will be slow until break.

Enjoy!

Feuilly's hand fumbled in his pocket, and his fingers closed around that familiar little box. His heart was hammering so loud now, he had no idea how Eponine wasn't covering her ears.

"What are you doing?" Eponine asked, smiling down at him.

"I…Eponinewillyoumarryme?" he blurted out.

"What?"

"Eponine," he took a deep breath, "would you marry me, ma chère?" he pulled the box containing the ring from his pocket and opened it. Eponine's jaw dropped, and her cheeks turned pink. She opened and closed her mouth several times, before bobbing her head up and down and dropping to her knees to kiss him.

"Y-yes!" she finally managed. Feuilly hardly remembered to slip the ring onto her finger before leaping up and catching her around the waist, kissing her as he swung her in a circle. When he set her down, they were both laughing, and there were tears on her cheeks. Feuilly wiped them away.

"I do hope that those are tears of happiness."

"Yes, of course! Oh, Feuilly, I'm so happy."

The sun was setting, and the couple sat on the blanket. Feuilly held Eponine close as they watched the fiery ball dip below the horizon, leaving the countryside in purple dusk.

"We should probably get home," Feuilly finally said reluctantly. Eponine nodded, yawning, and took his arm as they went down the lane.

"So when shall we plan the wedding for, chère?" he asked as they neared town.

"Fall," she said, "it's my favorite season. September, I think."

"Your favorite season? Why is that?"

"Because it's when I met you," she said simply. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"September it is."

They wandered home slowly in the dusk, and bid each other reluctant goodbyes.

"All right, who bet on September?" Feuilly called, as he practically danced into the café Musain a few days later. All of les amis looked at him blankly for a second, but then Courfeyrac whooped and ran over to slap him on the back. Everyone seemed to understand then, and Grantaire slammed his fist down on the table.

"Damnit! I'm never betting again!" he cried, "It cuts into my brandy money!"

All of les amis gathered around Feuilly, clapping him on the back and shaking his hand heartily and demanding invitations to the wedding. Courfeyrac went around cheerfully, collecting money from everyone, who grumbled and paid up.

Enjolras had more trouble than usual calling the Friends of the ABC to order that night, and was quite grumpy, thinking to himself that this loss of the bet was just another proof that romance was a silly waste of time and money.

Feuilly barely heard Enjolras' impassioned speech. All of his worries of the barricade had fled, and seemed trivial. What did it matter now? He was going to marry Eponine, and his fairytale was going to come true.

Meanwhile, Musichetta knocked on Eponine's door. The pair had taken to meeting on the same night as the Friends of the ABC, to sew together or discuss books over tea and cakes. Musichetta heard Eponine yelp and something drop to the floor, and footsteps coming toward the door.

"Oh, hello Musichetta," Eponine said, "do come in."

"Why did you cry out when I knocked? Did I surprise you that much?" Musichetta asked.

"Oh, no. I've just been a bit distracted, that's all. Musichetta, I need your help."

"Oh? What for?"

"Well…with my wedding," Eponine admitted shyly. Musichetta shrieked and hugged her.

"Feuilly proposed? Oh, Eponine! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you," Eponine smiled and went into the kitchen to put on tea. She returned with some mending and sat down,

"I'm just so scared, Musichetta! I've never even been to a wedding before. I don't know about dresses, or flowers, or anything to do with weddings!"

"Don't worry, I'll help," Musichetta said confidently, "when is the wedding?"

"Well…not till September."

"Then we have plenty of time! Next week I'll bring over my book of patterns, and we'll find one for your dress. That will be the thing that will take the longest, I think. What kind of flowers do you like best? Roses are traditional for weddings. What is your favorite color?" Musichetta rambled on, not giving Eponine time to speak.

"Musichetta!" Eponine cried, laughing, "You've asked me about a hundred questions, but not given me time to answer one!"

"Oh!" Musichetta laughed and blushed, "I'm just so excited for you! I want to make it a beautiful wedding. I'll slow down."

Musichetta stayed very late, making plans and describing dress patterns to Eponine, who was exhausted the next day, and went to bed early, not staying with Feuilly long.

The next day, Eponine was putting a few new books on the shelf when she heard gunshots. A young man, a student, burst into the shop.

"Mademoiselle, have you got any weapons?"

"Weapons? No, monsieur. Wipe your boots please, you're getting mud on the carpet."

"Mud? Mademoiselle, how can you care about the mud on the carpet? Don't you know what is happening outside?"

"No," Eponine replied.

"A riot! General Lamarque has died, and the people are rising up against the bourgeois! If you have no weapons, I must go and seek them elsewhere."

Eponine had dropped the book that she held.

"I must go. Goodbye!" and the boy ran out into the street. Eponine stared out after him, and a memory came into her head of a fiery speech. Enjolras, the time she had gone to the meeting at the café Musain. He had spoken of rising up against the bourgeois. Could this be his revolution? Was Feuilly out there?

Her employer's wife came forward from the back of the shop.

"What was that all about, Eponine?"

"Th-the people are rioting! Oh, Madame, I fear that my fiancé is with them! I must go seek him out!" Eponine cried. Through the window, she could see people beginning to flood the streets.

"Don't be foolish, my girl. You'll be trampled in that mob. Now you'd best lock the door before someone else comes in looking for weapons."

"I must go, Madame," Eponine said fervently, her face very pale and her eyes on the crowd outside, "Please!"

"What is this nonsense?" M. Berube said, coming from the back of the shop, "A riot outside? Those fools!"

"Please, monsieur! I'm sure that my fiancé is out there. I must find him!"

M. Berube was locking the doors.

"Go up to your room and try to read. I'm sure this will be over soon, Eponine," he said, trying to comfort the distressed girl.

Without a word, Eponine ran up to her room and unlocked her window, which opened out onto the roof. She stepped out and stood for a minute to watch the crowd below, before wrapping her arms and legs around the drainpipe and sliding down into the street.