Hello, lovelies! I was attempting to drag these next months in the story out, but I realized it would be a series of lame filler chapters, so the rising action starts here. Enjoy, lovelies! :)

"You know, flu is contagious," Enjolras wheezed from his place on the couch. Eponine smiled warmly.

"I was vaccinated."

"They only work ninety percent of the time." he degraded into a coughing fit, and it felt like he was hacking up a lung.

"Turning into Joly, are we?" she announced, laughing.

He laughed hoarsely, but it turned into a cough again. It was February 10th, he'd only been sick for two days, and already he was tired of it. "Can't I just go to school? I have things to do!"

"Nope. You are staying here," declared Eponine. "And that's final. I expect you to sleep today, and watch Disney movies or something. And if you need anything, call me or Combeferre."

"You know, I have been sick before, Eps."

"The way you're complaining, I'm surprised."

She bustled about the kitchen, gathering the last of her things. She was about to leave when she realized that she had forgotten her coat. Going into the bedroom, she snatched her red peacoat and did up the buttons, smoothing her hair in the mirror as she did so. The large curtain that separated their two rooms was slightly open, and something on Enjolras's red sheeted bed caught her eye. It was unmade, as she expected, with a few large teddy bears strewn about (Hey, don't judge, maybe he just loves plush animals,) but that wasn't what she had seen. Draped over one side was a large, cozy looking, gray and black scarf. She smiled, going over to it and winding it around her neck. Then, she decided, it was time to leave.

Enjolras had fallen asleep, one arm draped off the couch and some curls haphazardly covering his face. A few thoughts of gentleness flitted through her head, so she covered him in a blanket and kissed him on the forehead. Locking the door, she went out.

It was a brisk, chill walk to school. The wind blew in her face, so she pulled up the scarf. She was sure Enjolras would mind, probably quite so, but she didn't care. With immense joy, she realized that it smelled just like him, all warm and papery and nearly intoxicating. Eponine was excited and a bit apprehensive, for the monthly grade report came out that day. Combeferre had started tutoring her a few months back, and she had seen a huge improvement in her grades. She arrived at campus a few minutes later and wasn't surprised to see that there were barely any students about. She got to school often enough and early enough to know that no one was one campus except her beloved Amis.

She walked across the campus to the library building. Inside, there were shelves and shelves of books, a whole two floors of comfy-chair, dry paper paradise. She and the school librarian were good friends, for the Amis held their small counsels upstairs, and she checked out two or three books every week. This week, she had a large copy of A Dance With Dragons currently sitting on Enjolras's table, and she was already a good portion of the way through it.

She offered a smile to the librarian and walked up the tall spiral staircase, through another large room filled entirely with books, and ducked into an alcove. As she had expected, most of the core Amis were there, apparently in deep discussion over something-or-other. Their voices all silenced when they saw her, and they looked almost guilty. Her eyebrows raised. "Well, what did I do now?" she asked. "Nothing bad, honestly. Just stuff," said Bossuet, if a bit hurriedly.

"Stuff." she echoed.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and she looked at them. "Enjoy your stuff," she said, walking off.

And as she walked the other way, she heard Courfeyrac exclaim: "Now she thinks she's done something wrong."

"I've done enough wrong in my life to know when my own friends aren't pleased with me," she said, loudly, not stopping.

Three Months Later...

Eponine came home. It was the last day of school, she had finished finals with jubilation, all the ready to celebrate the conclusion of junior year with her Amis. But they were nowhere to be found. So, she had walked home alone, seeing if Enjolras had come back. A note sat on the counter, hastily scribbled.

Gone to prepare for meeting. Don't come tonight. I don't want you there.

E

She looked at it oddly. Her Amis had been slowly shutting her out for the past months, and she didn't know why. It was slowly starting to feel like it had before she had met them, an abyss. Enjolras had virtually ignored her, coming home late and leaving before she was up in the morning. Sometimes, she would come in on weekends to find a box of raspberries on the counter, like some cheap apology. But Enjolras would be gone, still. So, she spent her weekends alone, doing homework and housework. Even when she wasn't doing work, it still felt like work, because no matter how she tried to make it fun, she hardly even saw her friends any more. They were gone at lunch, and were never in the library, and it hurt. She couldn't figure out what she had done wrong.

"Don't come tonight my ass," she scoffed, before walking out the door.

The sky was dark, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. A few moments later, she arrived at the Musain to find the meeting just starting. She muled around outside until she saw that everyone had gone upstairs. The room was full to bursting, she noted, from her vantage point on the stairs. She noticed the bright red of Enjolras, talking to Combeferre. He does look much better, she noted.

A few moments later, Enjolras climbed onto a table. The chatter in the room instantly died down, until it was like a funeral. The room swelled with anticipation. Enjolras noticed it with pride, the room was full to bursting, at least a dozen more people came to each meeting. And, he noticed, they were not all students. He saw many men and women among them.

"Friends," he said. "Our situation has grown dire. The welfare is at it's lowest point. There are families on the streets right now, not knowing where their next meal is coming from, freezing in the snow, while we sit in our houses overeating and buying our girlfriends chocolate! Will we not help them?"

A resounding cheer came from the room, but Enjolras put a hand up, and the people silenced. "I'm hearing reports of fighting in the streets. The government has just passed a new law. Now, healthcare prices are going up. My friends in America see it on the world news. Bold headlines: The Paris Situation is Escalating. We have maybe a month to prepare, but we are in a bomb, my friends. Will we blow it up ourselves, or watch it explode?"

"Do you remember the rebellion of two years past? We were at the center of that as well. It nearly worked, and this time we have more support. We can do it, my friends. But the police are taking up arms. We must as well. If any of you have guns, or ammunition, bring them to the Corinth, across town. We're storing there. It is May 14th, my friends, and President Lemarc's cancer has been growing worse. We must see the people unite. I warn you, stop coming to these meetings if you are not willing to give your all for this cause. We were prepared to give our lives two years ago, Courfeyrac almost did. The police are prepared to gun down rioters to keep the peace, but we are not peace. We are the Rebellion, and we fight for what is right! Are you with me?"

As the room rose in cheers, Enjolras looked around with pride, but his eyes stopped on a face. Someone stood in the shadows, on the stairs. A very unreadable expression was on their face. Suddenly, he realized who it was, and his heart caught in his throat. He suddenly realized that the room had fallen silent again at his discomfort, and seemed to be looking to him for something. He stepped off the table as she stepped into the light.

"Hello," she said, tentatively.

"Hi," he said.

"Oh, are we on talking terms now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, taken aback, though he thought he knew exactly what she meant.

"Do your friends matter to you?"

"I value my friends above all else."

"Am I your friend?"

"You are my best friend."

"Then obviously you lied when you said you value your friends."

That hurt more then he let on. "What do you mean?"

"These are the first words you've spoken to me since February. You avoid me and tell me not to come to this meeting. Is there something you want to hide from me?"

"I don't want you here," he said. It was a lie, but he didn't want her getting hurt.

"Oh, dry up," she snapped. "Why don't you want me here?"

"A woman does not belong in the Rebellion."

"Oh really? She's a woman," Eponine exclaimed, pointing at a burly woman across the room. "And so's she." Another point, another stab to the heart. "And look, another." One more knife thrust."

"The good of the people is my common concern. I want the poor off the streets, in warm houses with money for food and comforts."

"I lived on the street for fifteen years, not knowing where my next meal was coming from. You didn't seem too concerned then, Enjolras."

He didn't have anything to say to that, for once. Luckily, she continued for him. "You are uncapable of feeling anything for anyone but your precious revolution. Antinous, Apollo, Enjolras, Gregory, those are your names. But you're nothing more then a marble statue."

"What are you talking about? I care about you."

"You forgot about Valentine's Day, and Spring Break, and me. You come home late and leave early. You never talk to me, even though I have you in four classes, and you leave no trace that you were ever there. You haven't offered a word to me in months, and neither have any of the others, and I don't even know what I bloody did wrong. There's another girl in your life too, Enjolras, and you might at least offer a word of goodbye before you leave her for another."

"I've never left you. I still take care of you. You're my Eponine, still."

"Am I? I love you, you bloody idiot, and you're too concerned with getting yourself shot in a riot that's never even going to work to care. I'm just doomed to die alone, because all the men I've ever loved lead me on and on and then break my heart and blame it all on me."

He could see tears rising to her eyes, but before he could say another word, she turned on her heel and marched downstairs. He was reminded of an event, over a year before, when she'd stormed out of a party because Marius had admitted he had never liked her. He had gone after her that night, but now it was him that she was mad at, and who would go after her now? There was nothing he would have liked more then to go after her, but he knew he couldn't, because she deserved someone better.

He felt a sharp elbow to his ribs. "Are you going to find her or not?" asked Jehan.

"I can't."

He could feel sharp eyes on him. He turned around to see Courfeyrac. "She loves you, and you love her, no matter what you say, so you are going to find her and apologize for what you've done."

"I can't cause her any more hurt then I already have."

"If you ignore her, you'll cause her a million times more pain."

Finally, fighting himself, he ran out of the cafe and into the street. It was surprisingly chill for May, and it didn't take long for him to notice the skinny figure making her way down the street into the dark. He ran up to her, and she turned around, anger and sadness in her eyes. "I didn't know marble could move."

"You cracked the marble a long time ago."

She laughed, a hoarse, small laugh. "Why don't I believe that?"

He gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "I didn't want you to come tonight, or to the rebellion, because I don't want you hurt. I want there to be a tomorrow for us, maybe a forever."

"Yet you put yourself there willingly enough."

"You deserve better then someone like me, who just cares about his coats and his stupid revolutions."

He was going to say something else, but she was crushing her lips to his, and it was all he'd ever wanted.

QotC: Who is your OTP? (Any fandoms)