A/N: Sorry if this has taken long, guys. Have had to deal with some real life horrors before writing this piece of work.

3: The Mirror

If there is a relative that Jehan gets to see often, it's his great-grandmother who lives four hours south of the city. Maybe it's because she's too old and wearied to care much about politics and shocking verses, maybe it's out of sympathy, or maybe it's just because she has a kind heart, but she is the one Prouvaire who has not yet thought of disowning the young poet. It helps too that she likes Azelma and is all too eager to bond with the girl over centuries-old recipes and cross-stitch patterns.

So really, how is Jehan supposed to refuse when one weekend, towards the end of his and Azelma's visit, his great-grandmother drags them in front of the large silver mirror hanging at one end of the second floor corridor? "Bring it with you, hijo," she says, clasping his warm hand in her bony, slightly clammy one.

"Are you sure?" he asks, wondering if he heard her right.

"I can't bring everything to the new condo," she says, putting one wrinkled hand on her left hip, the bad one. "It's a waste to leave it here; you know how old it is."

"Are you sure my parents or none of my uncles don't want to have it?" Jehan asks. He can't imagine that mirror hanging anywhere else but in this hallway of this ancient house. It's been there for as long as he could remember, it was probably there even when his own father was a boy, and perhaps even longer than that.

"You and Azelma should have something from me," the crone insists. "For your new home."

Jehan sees Azelma go very red at these words. It has only been a few weeks since he and Azelma decided to share an apartment, and already everyone is acting as if this will be a permanent arrangement. Jehan doesn't mind, though he knows better than to pressure Azelma into agreeing with him. As a rule the Thenardier siblings take things one day, or at most one month at a time.

Nevertheless Jehan allows himself to daydream all throughout the long drive back to Manila, up until the time that he and Azelma lug the mirror up to one corner of their apartment. "I didn't have the heart to tell her we didn't know where to put it," she says as she dusts off her hands.

"We can try it here on this wall. I'll get a hook for it tomorrow," Jehan promises. The mirror is large and old, and decidedly out of place in a room splashed with colors and shapes inspired from Ginsberg's poem "Howl". The effect turns from garish to downright uncanny when Jehan gets a look into the glass and sees that it shimmers more than it reflects. Perhaps it's some trick of optics, something he can ask Combeferre or Joly about in the morning.

The next day when he comes home from work, having already bought the hook for their newest piece of decor, he finds Azelma and Musichetta making still more design sketches for another line of costumes. "Good thing we have this, so you can actually see how the designs look," he says gamely as he brings the mirror out from the corner.

Musichetta takes one look at it and frowns. "It's not big enough."

"Chetta, it's not as if we can bring a full length mirror up here," Azelma says as she gets up to help Jehan out with the decor. It takes a few minutes till they get the hook in place and hang the mirror in such a way so that it will not suddenly fall to the floor and shatter all over the place. "Looks like something more out of an old story," she says wryly as she stands in front of the glass.

"Like you could stand there with a candle...ugh, just no," Musichetta says. "I don't know if I can look at it for very long."

"Sissy," Azelma says as she takes off the lavender shawl wrapped around her shoulders and throws it over the looking glass. "There, that won't disturb you."

Musichetta sighs before checking her phone. "Hm, something's up with Bossuet's neighbours. Apparently they moved out without notice, and the landlord is asking if anyone wants their former apartment," she says.

"Uh-uh. I wouldn't take that place even if you paid me," Azelma says.

"Something is off with it," Jehan agrees. For one thing, who leases out an apartment, fully furnished, and allows for the furniture to be disposed off. 'Such as that fusty old chest in the corner,' he thinks, remembering how difficult it was for them to move that particular item into the downstairs storage room. He'd been worried that the reek of camphor would stick to his clothes for days.

That becomes the least of his troubles when at some point after midnight they are awakened by a call on Azelma's cellphone. "Enjolras? What the hell, it's late at night!" Azelma groans into the phone. Her eyes widen as she sits up in bed. "Why are you asking about my siblings? There's me, Ponine, Gav, and...oh didn't you know about the younger two? The boys? What? Oh shit. No, Ponine wouldn't really remember. Ugh. That bad? Alright, Jehan and I will come by in the morning, so maybe that should make her feel better. Yep. Anytime. Thanks. See you two."

Jehan shivers as he watches Azelma put her phone back on their bedside table. "What happened to Enjolras and Eponine?"

"Ponine is having nightmares again," Azelma says as she pulls the blankets around her skinny shoulders. "She's dreaming about the boys."

That last sentence makes Jehan tremble even more. It is not often that Azelma speaks of the dead, especially of those two little ones. He inches closer to her and pulls her in his arms. "How old were you when they were gone?"

"Thirteen, fourteen maybe," Azelma says. "They were Maman's last babies, but I guess she got too tired to take care of them. I don't know really. Ponine did her best though, before she had to be hospitalized for that electroshock, whatever you call it."

"When she came back, the boys were already gone?" Jehan clarifies.

Azelma nods. "I think it might have been worse if she'd actually seen the accident and what happened after at the hospital. When she got back it wasn't as if she remembered much. Maybe it's good that she didn't remember much of them at all. After we buried the boys in the south, we left for Manila. Eponine didn't go to the funeral since Papa said it would be a bad idea to let her."

Jehan sighs deeply, knowing that he is probably best off trusting Azelma's judgment of the matter, but all the same he can't help but wonder if Eponine's state of oblivion is a peace that comes with a price that may be too dear for her to pay in the long run. He only hopes that Enjolras will be strong enough to help Eponine through this crisis. Jehan ponders this long after Azelma has fallen asleep, and as he looks towards the darkness, he somehow feels thankful that he cannot see his own worried and ponderous reflection in the looking glass behind the shawl.

It becomes clear to him over breakfast the next day with his friends that Eponine is doing far more than dreaming. "Like they're reaching out," she says before shoving another spoonful of tapsilog in her mouth. She takes a minute to choke down her food. "But why would they do it, after all these years?"

"Maybe some disturbance?" Jehan asks. He's read the article after all of the new diggings in some southern towns, developments that have disturbed old homes, streets, and a few cemeteries. "At this point, I'm willing to look at anything," he says when he meets Enjolras' sceptical and worried look.

"That may be a distinct possibility," Enjolras finally says after a moment. "There might be other explanations though-"

"I told you, I'm not going nuts," Eponine mutters.

"I didn't say you are."

"But you're thinking it."

Jehan and Azelma roll their eyes as the other pair begin to argue; this discussion reeks too much of fatigue and fear to be considered rational. "Maybe we should call it a day. You both need your rest," Azelma chimes in.

Eponine glares at her. "Don't butt in, Azelma."

"She's right though," Jehan says, aware of the withering looks his friends are still giving him. "You'll be able to reason this out better after some shut-eye, believe me."

It takes some work to put this pair to bed, but in separate rooms; Eponine gets the bed in their room, Enjolras gets the sofa. After this, Jehan and Azelma sneak off to their respective appointments; he heads to the bookstores, she goes to a costume fitting.

It's just as well for all these bookstores that Jehan's newfound curiosity about the paranormal makes him less choosy about his choice of reading material. He buys up any reasonable looking book or pamphlet on the subject matter, determined to find the answers to Eponine's dreams and now even Bossuet's dilemma since the latter has moved out of his apartment.

He learns far more than he wants to about a whole pantheon and hierarchy of spirits, about glimpses into the afterlife, and even about portals and curses. Some of these theories seem spurious, but he knows that there must be a grain of truth or two someplace if so many people in Manila have at least one true ghost story.

Then it happens one night, when Azelma is staying out late for a reading of a play. He is home, reading a book of anecdotes while looking for something to microwave for their dinner. Just before he can pick a tray of food, the lights fizzle and crackle out over the rising din of a sudden summer shower.

Jehan shuts the refrigerator quickly to save energy before fumbling in his picket for his phone so he could warn Azelma about this power outage. As he wanders through their darkened apartment he realizes that there is something different about the view. The shawl veiling the mirror has fallen in a heap to the floor.

He picks up the shawl to replace it when he suddenly gets that cold feeling of something at his back. When he raises his eyes to the shining surface of the mirror, he sees two shapes looking back at him. Neither of them is anything close to his own visage.

Jehan throws the shawl over the mirror haphazardly before grabbing his phone as well as his keys and his wallet. Thankfully there are good hostels in this neighbourhood, and perhaps a few equally terrified friends who will only be too eager to share a room with him and Azelma, at least till morning light.