Notes: Thank you so much to Phoenixflames12 for reviewing once again last chapter, and thank you as well to Musichetta, who reviewed the past two chapters as well:) We get more historical context in this chapter (which may possibly be all horribly incorrect 0_0) If you catch any massive mistakes, I would appreciate it so much if you PM'd me or reviewed to tell me! So, I hope you enjoy!

BARRICADE

CHAPTER IV

He finds her later that same day, sitting in a bench beside the Seine. He's far enough away that she doesn't see him, so he is able to watch her for a few moments. He had learned long ago that people are always different when they can't see you observing.

Éponine, she was very different. According to Whitman, she had long ago learned to hide herself away, how to keep others out. But watching her now, Enjolras discovers that Éponine only hides when she is conscious of others. Now, her guard is down and she seems a wholly different person.

She is relaxed in her bench seat, her eyes fixed on a book. The wind blows a few wisps of dark brown hair that have escaped her braid, and she wears a faded blue dress that seems very out of character for her. The last time Enjolras saw her, she was clad in the Left Bank uniform of all the female students—skinny black pants, a striped sweater. Today's dress looks older, almost from the war era. Perhaps it is. Enjolras knows precious little about her, he realizes—Éponine is an enigma to him.

He wonders if perhaps she isn't an enigma to everybody.

Just then, she glances up and sees him. Enjolras curses silently, because now she's sure to get angry or nervous or worse, rush off like she did earlier that morning in the shop. But she doesn't. Instead, Éponine graces him with a small smile, and motions him over.

Slightly apprehensively, Enjolras walks to the bench and sits beside her. For a while he doesn't know what to say, and it seems awfully cliché but it's all right because nothing needs to be said. There is just him and her and Paris and the river.

After a few minutes of just him and her and Paris and the river (which was philosophically great at first but unfortunately he is not Combeferre and it is getting mundane) he turns to her and reads the title of her book aloud. "The Opium of the Intellectuals. Raymond Aron." He had had to read that book once, and had heartily disagreed with its viewpoints on how Marxism was foolish and idiotic and etc., etc., etc. Then, more to himself than to her, he says, "So you're one of those people."

She hears and snaps her head towards him. "By one of those people do you mean levelheaded and sensible? Because then yes, I am." Enjolras sighs. He's done it again, brought out the sharp side of Éponine, the side that is almost always constantly brandished at the rest of the world.

"No, I mean—I just mean—you're one of the…the…" He can think of nothing but insulting terms to describe the non-revolutionary students at the University, other than bourgeois, which Éponine most certainly is not. "One of the…right-wings," he finishes weakly.

"I am not. I only think that all those…rebels…are wasting their time. Pretending that China and Communism is so wonderful? What do they even actually know about China?" Enjolras grows heated at her words, as she disparages everything he stands for.

"We know that France has grown lazy! Weak! We know that our supposed Fifth Republic is a complete failure, and our lovely president Charles de Gaulle is doing absolutely nothing about it." As he speaks, Enjolras grows more and more impassioned. Éponine has no idea, but she is about to be introduced to the revolutionary leader inside the mild-mannered student. "It is time we bring back the days of old, when it was recognized as duty to throw off an oppressive government. The days when a Frenchman was courageous above all others! When the people held the power."

Enjolras finishes his speech, leaving Éponine slightly shell-shocked. After a few moments, she finds the words (albeit not the most masterful) to answer. "You used…you used the pronoun we. You are one of the radicals, then?" Enjolras swallows, then nods, realizing that probably telling the girl he is slightly in love with that his political views are entirely different from hers may not be the wisest of courses. Éponine blinks a few times, and for a quick second something akin to emotion flashes through her eyes; but she wipes it away and becomes like stone once more.

"Are you…if I am a radical does that mean…" Enjolras knows exactly what he wants to ask: If I am a radical does that mean you will never love me? But the words won't come. How can he ask her such a thing, when he has known her for the span of less than a week? How can he let her know just how close he is to falling in love with her?

Éponine takes a deep breath. "Monsieur Enjolras…" His heart leaps at hearing her refer to him by his name (even if it is just his last name); he chooses to ignore the fact that she has added the formal address of monsieur. "I do not agree with you. I think that the Maoists are naïve and stupid; they know nothing of China or Communism yet they are fervent perpetrators of the philosophy." His heart falls. She seems to have caught a glimpse of his heartbreak on his face, as she hastily adds: "But, monsieur, you are not Maoist. You may think yourself to be one, but you are not. You are…you are a revolutionary and that is all. And for that you have my respect."

Enjolras cannot control the smile that splits across his face at her words. Respect isn't exactly the emotion he feels for her, or that he wants her to feel for him, but it is better than irritation, or disgust, or worst of all, disdain for his love of Patria.

He stands up, towering over her where she sits on the bench. "Mademoiselle," he says with a sweeping bow, taking her hand and kissing it in a flamboyantly chivalrous gesture. "I would like you to meetmy friends. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to a meeting of Les Amis de l'ABC?"

She laughs, standing up beside him. "Of course. But I'll have you know, monsieur, I am a feminist. I do not need any man escorting me anywhere. I am perfectly capable of escorting my own self, thank you." She extracts her hand from his; he would be hurt but the light in her eyes tells him that she is joking.

He bows outrageously deeply once more. "Of course, mademoiselle." His hat falls off, and this elicits a laugh from Éponine. Quickly, he sneaks a kiss onto her cheek. "I apologize greatly for my chauvinism."

Éponine turns her face away, towards the river. He cannot see it but she is smiling—the real smile she barely ever uses. The smile she smiled on the first day they met; the first day her smile reached her eyes.

Notes: See, it did get slightly longer:) Thank you all for reading! I would love to know what you thought of the political debate sections of this chapter? Those were slightly more difficult to write 0_0 Also I'd love to know how you feel about Éponine's characterization as well? Please review telling me!:) Next chapter, Éponine will be meeting the Amis! So, we'll see how that goes:) Don't forget to review!