Ok so I'm pretty sure I have the best readers in the universe. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, the favorites, the follows I just love you guys so much! Thanks for not hating meeeee!

I've been writing a lot, which is good! I hope everyone will be happy with how this ends, though I'm still waiting for an ending to come about. I just keep writing and writing and writing... so much for this being a oneshot! I'm almost finished with Chapter 6. I don't know how much longer this will be, but I think that I'd like to keep it around 10 chapters.

If my updating is slightly sporadic this week, please forgive me! I have a really busy schedule and now that my mini Easter break is over, I'm back in the swing of things! But it shouldn't be more than a few days. =)

Disclaimer: Oh Hugo...

When they got back to the apartment, Enjolras was relieved to find that Grantaire and Courfeyrac were in their bedrooms. He didn't want Eponine to be inundated with questions.

Eponine went into her room. She hadn't spoken the whole ride home, hadn't even looked at him. Enjolras went to his own room, grabbing a few things he needed and a pillow. "You two can have my room," he told Azelma and Montparnasse, "I'll sleep on the couch."

They thanked him and retired. A few minutes later, he could hear the muffled sounds of Azelma crying and Montparnasse trying to comfort her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he found himself praying that they didn't decide to have sex in his bed.

Eponine had yet to emerge from her room, though the door was open, so Enjolras went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and he was sure that didn't even begin to touch on how Eponine felt.

He checked on her, having changed into fresh boxers and his pajamas, before he settled in on the couch for the night. She was just sitting on her bed, staring at her hands.

"Eponine?" he asked cautiously, knocking lightly on the door.

"I heard her crying," she whispered. "But I think she's asleep now. Or they're having really quiet sex, I don't know. I would change your sheets tomorrow, if I were you." She seemed a little hysterical and extremely scattered.

"Why don't you take a shower?" he suggested. She nodded. He took her hand, grabbing her pajamas and some clean underwear from one of her drawers (it disturbed him to realize he knew exactly where she kept her underwear).

He took her to the bathroom, and ran some hot water. She was still in her outerwear, so he gently stripped it all off her. "Get undressed and get in," he ordered gently, taking her things to hang up.

Enjolras went to her room, pulling back the covers on her bed and feeling very much like a boyfriend. Like her boyfriend. Despite how dire and frightening and awful these circumstances were, it electrified him to have her so close again. He had missed her terribly.

What was more, she wasn't fighting him. He had never seen her so emotionally undone before. It was hardly exciting – quite the contrary, he had hoped that seeing her this emotional would be about something silly, not the near-death of her brother – but it made him happy that she was relying so heavily on his support, that for once she wasn't shutting everyone out and carrying the world on her own shoulders.

When he returned to the bathroom, he was pleased to see her clothes lying in a heap on the floor. He was about to leave in order to give her privacy when he heard a choked sob, followed by several more, come from behind the shower curtain.

His heart constricted in his chest and his stomach turned.

"Eponine?" he called softly, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Go away, Enjolras," she begged, voice thick with tears.

Without a second thought, Enjolras pulled off his t-shirt and sweatpants and boxers, and slipped into the shower.

Eponine spun in shock. "Get out!" she cried.

"Why? It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before. It's not like there's any part of you I haven't seen before either," he reminded her with a smirk.

She gave a blubbery laugh. "You haven't seen me like this," she reminded him softly.

And she was right. He had never expected her to look like this. She was a mess. When he had imagined her crying, it was always while she was fighting for something or arguing with someone. She was still the strong, stubborn, precocious Eponine he knew.

This girl – she was different. This Eponine was broken. And it broke his heart. He understood now why she didn't want to show anyone that side of her. She didn't want them to think exactly what he was thinking now, that she was just so vulnerable.

"Enjolras…." But before she could even say anything else, she broke down, doubling over as she sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Enjolras immediately gathered her into his arms, holding her as she sobbed into his chest and his shoulder and his neck, her tears washed away by the warm water.

He held her until she calmed down a bit, then he washed her hair for her. He wanted so desperately to kiss her, to absorb her pain and fear through her lips and take it on himself, but it wasn't possible. And she wouldn't want it that way either.

So instead, he said, "Eponine, we do have to pay for hot water. Maybe we should wrap this up."

She laughed – and hiccupped – into his shoulder and conceded. He turned the water off, but she was still so warm against him that he hardly noticed its absence. Enjolras wrapped her in her towel before grabbing his own, trying to hide the fact that his body most definitely had felt her warmth up against him when that first rush of cold air hit. He wrapped his towel low around his waist, hoping she hadn't seen and willing his desire and lust for her away.

He dried himself off and pulled his clothes back on as Eponine brushed her teeth, towel wrapped around her head rather than her body. Her shoulders were sagging and she was moving slowly, clearly emotionally and physically spent, but even so, she was the most beautiful woman Enjolras thought he had ever seen.

He longed to touch her the way he used to, before he blew up at her, before he turned into a jealous man, before everything between them soured. He wished he could go up behind her now, snake his arms around her, have her tremble in his arms and lean into his chest as he explored the places on her body with which only he was familiar….

"Enjoying the view?" she asked. The question was wry, teasing, but lacking her normal punch. He immediately felt guilty. He realized he had been staring at her as he fantasized.

He was sitting on the lid of the toilet, waiting as she blew her hair dry; it took a long time, but he couldn't even dream of leaving, even though he knew he should.

It was happening again. He had gotten to a good place with his feelings for Eponine. He was managing to pull himself out of the crashing waves, to swim back to shore, to fight her current. He was treading water successfully, so close to being free. But now – well, the tide was rising again to embrace him, and he was very, very quickly losing his strength to fight. He was as in love with her as ever, and he knew it. There was no fighting it.

Her hair was hardly dry when she gave up, but it was much less soaked than when she had started. She – regrettably, for Enjolras – pulled on her pajamas then, hung up her towel, and opened the bathroom door.

Neither of them had any idea what time it was.

He followed her out of the bathroom, and walked with her, prepared to part ways. "Good night, Ep," he said. "Promise me you'll get some sleep." He turned toward the couch, but she snatched up his hand before he could take so much as one step.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, "I don't want to be alone." Her eyes were filling with tears again as she clung to his arm. "Please," she implored.

Enjolras reached up, brushing her left temple with his thumb as he ran a hand lightly through a strand of dark hair, tucking it behind her ear. He nodded and allowed her to lead him into her room. He closed the door behind him and crawled in with her, holding her just as he had the night Marius and Cosette got engaged. Except tonight, she was pressed flush against him, considerably more tense, clinging to him. He held her tightly in response.

They were silent for a long while, her face on his chest, his chin against her forehead. He was lightly, soothingly, combing his fingers against her scalp and through her hair.

"Thanks," he suddenly heard her whisper. She sounded so worn, so broken.

"What for?"

"For being there with me. At the hospital, and… and here. What I did to you… well, I don't deserve it."

"Stop, Ep. This isn't about our fight. This is about you, my best friend, and Gavroche, the closest thing to a little brother I've ever had. I don't care what you said. I just want you to be okay again. I want Gavroche to be okay again."

To his surprise, she started to cry again. His stomach knotted has he calmingly stroked her head and rubbed her back, eventually turning on his side and cradling her against his chest. His shirt was wet.

She said nothing, and he let it remain silent. He didn't think she had ever cried to anyone like this, had ever been comforted by someone else when it was all too much. The fact that she wasn't pushing him away now made the little bit of his remaining anger towards her dissipate almost completely. This was not the Eponine of even a few months ago.

Even so, Enjolras knew her well enough to know that she most certainly would not want him to speak while she cried. She was a very physical being, and she needed that physical support now. Not sex, per se. No, she just needed someone to hold her and be there. To try to talk to her would have chased her away, possibly so far into her mind that he would never find a way back in.

He let her cry herself out, trying to prove to her that it was all right to go to someone else for support. That it was all right to go to him when she couldn't handle things on her own. That she didn't have to do everything herself.

Crying had been reduced errant tears, to large sniffles, and finally to big, shaking breaths as Eponine attempted to calm herself down.

"Sorry about your shirt," she said wryly, eyeing the giant, soaked patch on his chest. Enjolras looked down at her swollen eyes and soaked face and runny nose, and gave her a genuine smile.

"No wonder you hate crying," he said, wanting to cheer her up, but choosing his words with care. He was walking a fine line here. She was vulnerable for once, and one wrong word could irreparably ruin everything between them. "You look like shit," he teased.

To his relief she gave him a shaky grin and swatted his arm. "Shut up," she murmured halfheartedly.

Encouraged, he sat up – she moved aside, thinking he wanted to resituate himself – and, to her surprise, pulled off the shirt. He bunched it up in his hand and playfully smeared it across her face to wipe up her tears.

She gave a watery laugh at that, gently pushing him away. She was sitting up now, and took another deep, shaky breath. He used the shirt again, this time much more gently, much more seriously, to stop her runny nose and to dry the tears clinging to her lashes.

He tossed the shirt aside then, and joked, "You can keep that."

Eponine giggled again and they settled back down. Her cheek was burning into his chest, the fingers she was dragging lazily, absentmindedly across his abdomen were trails of fire. He felt desire bubbling up inside of him again, and he fought as hard as he could to push it back down.

"I hope Azelma didn't hear me crying," she remarked, still sounding very far away. "Or the others."

"Don't worry about them," he murmured. "If you're that worried about it, you can tell them it was me."

Eponine snorted weakly. "I'm so tired," she said, curling tighter against him.

"Go to sleep," he replied, rubbing her back.

"You won't leave?" She sounded so concerned, so childlike then. She was depending on him, for once, rather than on herself. In spite of the situation, Enjolras smiled.

He stroked her hair then, leaning down to kiss the crown of her head. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her.

Enjolras wasn't sure how long they laid there silently, but he thought he must have dozed off, though he wasn't sure for how long, because he was jolted back to consciousness when Eponine suddenly announced, "I can't sleep."

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked groggily.

She twisted herself up to fully look at him, "I woke you up," she said, taking in his bleary, sleepy eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be. If you're awake, I want to be awake too," he told her.

It must have been close to 4 in the morning now. Maybe even later.

Eponine was looking at him through tired, hooded eyes, only a few inches away from his face, propped up on her elbow. Her other arm was across his torso, unconsciously tapping her fingertips against his ribs. He looked at her mouth; she was biting her lip as she looked down at him, gaze flickering back and forth between his eyes and his own lips.

Enjolras desperately wanted to kiss her – her closeness had been driving him wild all night – but was concerned that in doing so he would be taking advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.

He looked at her lips.

But then again, this was Eponine. She wasn't just any old girl. Perhaps, given how emotionally cut off she usually was, she was exceptionally vulnerable right now, more so than an average person would be. But somehow he doubted it. Eponine always knew what she wanted. He couldn't trick her into doing anything if he tried. She also knew him better than he always expected her to; she knew that he never made a move if he weren't certain it was welcome.

She had released her lip from between her teeth, and unconsciously wet it with her tongue.

It was too much for Enjolras after that. He couldn't help bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking its apple with his thumb before leaning up to close the space between them.

Her lips were soft and wet – or maybe that was her eyelashes, he couldn't tell. He mustn't have been asleep for too long, if they were still damp with tears.

She tasted even better than he remembered; familiar, yet exotic and intoxicating all at once.

Something within him seemed to burst; he had been wanting this moment since their fight, had missed her more than he could ever imagine.

It didn't matter that she was broken from Gavroche and from Marius, that she was poor and angry and sad, all that mattered was that he, Enjolras, could comfort her, touch her, and no one else could.

He was barely still treading water.

Eponine's hand was on his neck, pulling him and forcing him to roll over on top of her as she lay back on the pillow. Having him on her like that again, even just a bit, made her feel infinitely more secure. She had always liked his weight on her, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and had oddly felt so much heavier on her own when they weren't speaking.

He deepened the kiss, his hands beginning to explore the taught skin at her hips.

It was over just as quickly as it had started, though, as a noise in the hallway outside Eponine's door caused them to spring apart, both breathing heavily.

They lay there for a long moment, but nothing else happened. Their moment, however, had passed. Enjolras knew he had let his desire get the better of him, and that no matter how strong Eponine was, she was in no condition to be physical with him.

She seemed to unconsciously understand that they were done, because she settled back in his arms. However, this time she laced her fingers through his.

"Everyone knows about us," she informed him. She sounded very tired, and still a little breathless.

"What?"

"Yeah. We're apparently the worst kept secret. They cornered me down at the Musain the other day. I texted you about it, don't you remember?"

"All you said was 'everyone knows.' I assumed you meant they knew we had fought."

"You're a moron," she told him matter-of-factly.

"When did they figure it out?" he asked, ignoring her teasing.

"Over the summer. They said we got really bad about sneaking, especially when one or both of us were drunk. So at least we don't have to sneak anymore."

Anymore? Although he was as much in love with her as ever, and was ecstatic about their recovered friendship, Enjolras couldn't help but wonder if Eponine would be her old, stubborn self again once Gavroche healed. And what was more, he was fairly certain he couldn't go back to just being friends with benefits.

He was too far out to sea and in much too deep to go back to how things were.

"I read your book," he told her, quickly changing the subject. He wanted to avoid that conversation as long as possible. It was especially inappropriate now, given everything that had happened.

"Did you like it?" she asked, perking up a bit.

Enjolras was stroking her hand with his thumb and absently playing with her hair. "I read it in two days. You were right about Gaiman – he's not my usual, but I really loved it."

She gave a small, albeit triumphant, smile. "Told you," was all she said, yawning.

Eponine's eyes were beginning to droop, and she curled tightly against him. As he watched, she entered the ultimate state of vulnerability, her breathing growing slow and deep as she fell into unconsciousness in his arms.

Their faces were only inches apart; they were sharing a pillow. From this vantage point, Eponine seemed, for once, completely at ease. Her face was peaceful, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling against his. Enjolras couldn't remember ever seeing anyone so beautiful.

He closed his eyes, and the last thing he was aware of before he fell into the abyss was the twitch of her hand where it lay still entwined with his.

It was utter chaos. They were behind the barricade, a barricade made of – what? – furniture? Carriages? Doors?

Bullets whizzed all around him. He was shouting orders at his men – no, they weren't his men, they were his friends – to fire in return.

He looked over just in time to see Eponine take a bullet in the gut. He watched bitterly, the rain pouring on them all, producing the tears he could not, as she died in Marius' arms.

Then little Gavroche, a child once more, fell to the bullets.

And his friends, all of them, dead and dying and bleeding around him.

He could hear the sound of the guns now, ringing awfully, over and over.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

No. Those weren't guns. Guns didn't make that sound.

He knew what that noise was – it was so familiar, he had heard it before.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

He turned, seeing Eponine's limp body lying in a heap against a building. He would be joining her soon. He screamed her name.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

What was that noise?

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

A phone?

Eponine!

He realized he had been saying her name in his sleep.

She made a noise, but did not reply.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing!

Enjolras opened his eyes, the room bright with sun. Her phone….

It was her phone ringing. Not gunshots. Was someone calling with news of Gavroche? He lunged over Eponine, suddenly completely awake, grabbing for the ringing cell phone on her nightstand.

"Yes? Hello?" he asked frantically.

"Hello, I'm looking for Eponine Jondrette. I'm calling from the hospital about her brother, Gavroche Thénardier," said a female voice on the other end.

"Yes, this is her phone, hang on just one sec –."

The phone was yanked from his hand before he could finish his sentence. Eponine was sitting up next to him, apparently awakened when he essentially jumped on her as he reached for the phone.

"This is Eponine Jondrette. Are you calling about Gavroche? Is he all right? Is everything ok?"

He checked his own phone. It was after eleven in the morning. He had several text messages from his friends, but would read them later. Instead, he was staring attentively at Eponine, who was in turn attentively listening to the nurse on the other end of the line.

"Yes, thank you so much. We'll be there soon," Eponine said, hanging up. She dropped the phone then, and leaned between her knees, her face in her hands.

Enjolras put his hand on her back, feeling the curve of her spine beneath his palm. She took a few deep breaths, then looked up at him. "They've moved him to a room. He's in the ICU, but they're thinking they might be able to bring him out of the coma and move him to a regular room in a few days," she told him, laughing a bit in relief.

Enjolras felt his own smile mirror hers, and suddenly she was in his arms, and they were hugging each other tightly and falling back on the bed, a giggling mess of blankets and limbs and pure relief.

When they calmed down, she said, "He's hardly out of the woods yet, but I guess he did a lot better last night after the surgery than they expected him to."

He was propping his head on one of his arms; with the other, he brushed some hair out of her face. She gave him that half smile of hers, the one that drove him crazy, and then was up an instant later, bolting out of her room to wake up Azelma and Montparnasse.

About an hour and a half later, they were back at the hospital. They had taken Joly's car again, but Enjolras had informed Eponine that he wanted to return it to their friend later that day or the next so Joly could have it back to go to work on Monday morning.

After hearing the good news, he had sent out a quick group message to his friends with an update on Gavroche's condition and the promise of more news as it came, then he had hopped in the shower.

On the way to the hospital, he had stopped at the gas station to fill up Joly's tank. Eponine had insisted on giving him some money, though he wouldn't let her pay for all of it, and when he went in to pay asked if anyone wanted any food. Montparnasse went in with him, getting himself and Azelma some breakfast, but an unusually quiet Eponine had absently waved him away when he asked. She was deep inside her mind then, probably thinking about Gavroche or her parents. He couldn't even hope that she was thinking about him.

When he returned with a giant cup of coffee for her (and one for himself), she had been so happy that she had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, holding the cup in both hands under her nose as though its aroma was the only thing keeping her alive. He looked at her mouth as she sipped, envying the cup that received her kiss and wishing that it could be him waking up her sleepy lips, not a plastic lid. He saw Azelma share a look with Montparnasse in the rear view mirror.

Now, they were in the ICU, Azelma and Eponine propped on the bed on either side of the young boy, each holding one of his hands. Enjolras sat behind Eponine on the bed, one hand on the boy's leg, the other on Eponine's hip. Montparnasse sat in the bedside chair.

They were waiting for the doctor to come in to give them more news, though they weren't sure how long it would take.

No one spoke much, giving Enjolras time to reflect on his dream. It had highly disturbed him, in the way that only dreams could.

He hoped that it had been caused by the violent attack on Gavroche, and was not his mind trying to tell him that it didn't think the boy would survive. Gavroche's life was just as miserable as Eponine's, and he deserved a chance to do something with himself just as much as Enjolras and all of his friends.

But to watch Eponine die, then all of his friends, and to know that he himself was going to fall was troubling, even if it were only a dream. He couldn't get the image of Eponine's crumpled, broken body lying alone against the wall. He hoped that if he were going to die in the dream that his death might have been next to hers, so that she wouldn't have been alone.

But what was the point in thinking about any of this? It was just a dream. Enjolras tried to put it out of his mind.

The day was a lot of sitting and waiting. A social worker came by to check in on the situation – he and Eponine had explained how Gavroche had gotten shot; he showed the woman the picture of Eponine's red cheek where her father had hit her, and both she and Azelma had attested to their parents' physical and emotional abuse. Azelma got very emotional when she talked, especially when she told them how her father's gang was always around, making Enjolras wonder if her father's friends had sexually abused her. The thought made his stomach turn with pity and disgust. Eponine, of course, remained like stone through the whole ordeal.

Eponine told the woman that she wanted Gavroche taken from her parents, and that rather than putting him in foster care she would take him and begin the process for getting custody of him. The social worker had little to say of everything, just that someone would go down to the Thénardier residence to begin an investigation, and that when Gavroche woke up she would be back to talk with him.

The doctor stopped in as well, but had little to say other than that they were optimistic that Gavroche would fully recover and that hopefully they would be able to bring him out of the coma in the next few days.

When they returned home that night, Combeferre, Bahorel, and Joly were there with Courfeyrac, Grantaire, and Clémence. Grantaire had texted Enjolras just before they left the hospital, asking what time they would be back and if they wanted any takeout; he had texted back with their orders.

Enjolras was surprised by how enthusiastically Eponine took to being social. She answered their concerned questions as best she could and told Courfeyrac and Grantaire that she was trying to get temporary custody of Gavroche (joking with Grantaire that he would have to get his shit together more than anyone else). When the Chinese food arrived, Eponine eagerly wolfed it down. Enjolras realized she hadn't eaten all day.

When he went to the kitchen to get himself and Eponine fresh beers, Courfeyrac followed, carrying an armful of garbage and leftovers.

"How's she doing really?" Courfeyrac inquired quietly, busying himself with putting cartons in the fridge. They heard Eponine laughing at one of Bahorel's jokes louder than anyone else in the living room.

Enjolras shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. She was a mess last night, though." He didn't need to add that he was extremely suspicious of her attitude right now, because Courfeyrac's expression indicated that he felt the same; she looked tired, in Enjolras' opinion, but each time he made eye contact with her, she gazed at him with veiled eyes and a guarded face. Suddenly, in front of their friends and her sister, she was the old Eponine again. It worried him more than he could say.

"I'm glad you two are speaking again, although I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. But I think she's right to try and get custody of him here. She's lucky to have you to help with that. R and I will do what we can, of course, but we aren't lawyers. Or her boyfriend…."

"I'm not her boyfriend, Courfeyrac," Enjolras muttered seriously.

"Well I know this all only just happened, but you switched into boyfriend mode pretty damn quickly. And what's even crazier, she let you. I've known Eponine for years, just like you, but sometimes I look at her and it's like I only met her earlier that day, like I don't even know her at all. But that's not the case with you, man. She let you in. You probably know her better than anyone else in her life, you know?"

Enjolras grunted noncommittally. "Some days I don't know her either. And we're still in the weeds… When I think about what will happen after this, after Gavroche – I hope – gets better, I don't know. She told me last night that everyone figured it out over the summer, even Cosette and Marius, that they've all known about us for a while, and she mentioned that we wouldn't need to 'sneak around anymore.'"

Courfeyrac chuckled. "She wants it, Enj," he joked, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Enjolras just regarded him apprehensively.

"But you don't, do you?" Courfeyrac questioned softly, carefully reading Enjolras' face. It was more of a statement than a question. "You're too in love with her to keep this up – oh, I knew it," he hissed victoriously.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Enjolras mumbled. His cheeks actually felt a little hot, which was possibly even more humiliating than this conversation.

"Well, don't worry, man" Courfeyrac said, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge. "We have to get her through all of this with Gavroche first. Then we'll tackle her feelings for you."

Enjolras surveyed Courfeyrac's face; it was wrought with worry. He knew how fond Courfeyrac was of Gavroche, how they had such a special connection. Clémence had mentioned that when they received the news of Gavroche's condition, he had gone into a panic and had been nigh on inconsolable.

"But if it makes you feel any better, Clémence insists that Eponine is crazy about you, and that she's just confused and scared. If it were just about the sex, she would've found someone else by now – hell, most guys want exactly what her deal was with you. She could've found it anywhere. But she hasn't been with anyone since you two fought, and Clémence says she's been incredibly broken up about it."

Enjolras knew that Eponine had been upset about their fight, but he hadn't known that she was that upset.

Courfeyrac winked and quirked a half smile at him before going back to their friends in the living room. Enjolras followed after taking half a moment to compose himself.

Eponine caught his eye as he was walking in; her face was unreadable, but when he handed her and settled down next to her on the floor she smiled warmly. Their knees were touching, and he was suddenly hyper aware of how close she was to him. He could practically feel the sparks flying between their shoulders.

He looked up to see both Courfeyrac and Clémence watching them.

They went back to the hospital the next day, but nothing much had changed. Eponine had to go to work that night, and Enjolras had work and class the next day, so their visit was much shorter, though they still spent most of the day there, sitting with the unconscious boy.

Enjolras noticed that while Azelma and even Montparnasse chattered at Gavroche, and while Eponine would say things here and there, she remained largely quiet. Her shoulders were drooping the whole day, and when he did see her face she seemed so overcome with sadness. He would take her hand in those moments, afraid that if he didn't she might shatter into a million pieces. She was so very fragile.

They had shared her bed again the night before, but they did not interact in any way as they had the previous one. In fact, she fell asleep right away, though Enjolras, who had grown used to the sound of her sleeping after all those months together, suspected that she had only been pretending in order to avoid speaking to him.

He couldn't deny that it hurt a bit, but he also knew that pushing her would not help even a little. He couldn't hold it against her, anyway, considering how utterly breakable she was these days.

They dropped off Azelma and Montparnasse at the latter's small apartment on their way home, and, after running home so Eponine could change, he took her to work before returning Joly's car.

Enjolras was still awake when she came in, moving slowly and looking more tired than he thought he had ever seen her, but she had little to say.

She was shutting down.

When she crawled into bed with him that night, back in his room, she said almost nothing to him before very quickly dropping off to sleep.

The whole next day at work and in his evening class were torturous, and when he was finally free, he went straight to the hospital without even bothering to go home and change.

Eponine was there alone, sitting cross-legged on Gavroche's bed, holding one of his hands. She didn't even notice him when he first arrived; there was a far-off look on her face as she stared off into the distance, and she was completely oblivious to the world.

He gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and she started, looking around wildly. She seemed to deflate a bit when she saw it was he.

"How are you?" he asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

She shrugged. "My parents were here earlier," she commented vaguely, still sounding miles and miles away.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"No, no, I'm fine," she reassured him, flashing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I went and got the orderly, who came in with the social worker. She got to see – well, it only takes a pair of eyes to see what my parents are. And you don't need to see much, at that. I had them thrown out."

He nodded, silent for a moment, leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded against his chest and ankles crossed. "Eponine –," he started, but was cut off by the arrival of Dr. Brevet.

"Good evening," he said, nodding at them with a smile. He pulled out Gavroche's chart, looking it over carefully, before looking up at Eponine and smiling more widely at her. "He's doing great, Mademoiselle. I think that, so long as nothing changes over night, we'll move him into a room tomorrow and see about waking him up tomorrow evening when you can be here."

"Really?" Eponine exclaimed, perking up. Enjolras unraveled himself as well, a hopeful half-smile breaking out on his face. She reached out to her side, towards him, without looking. Without a second thought, he laced his fingers through hers. She was holding him tightly, a gesture which he returned.

The doctor talked to them for a few moments more before taking his leave. As soon as he had cleared the room, Eponine launched herself off the bed and into Enjolras' arms. She began to cry against his chest. He felt tears of his own pricking.

She was done almost as soon as she began, though, and although she was visibly happier, he could see her shutting down before his eyes. She jokingly apologized for crying into his "lawyer clothes," as she endearingly called them, and smoothed her hands over his shoulders as though she were a tailor before severing the contact between them.

Before they left, she planted a tender kiss on Gavroche's forehead; Enjolras smoothed the boy's hair.

Courfeyrac insisted on accompanying them to the hospital to be there when Gavroche was brought out of the coma. No one argued, least of all Eponine, as Gavroche had always followed Courfeyrac around as though he were some sort of superhero. Montparnasse, however, was working, and did not come along.

Joly drove them, but when they arrived at the hospital, they were shocked to find the rest of their friends already there in the lobby – Marius and Cosette, Combeferre, Feuilly, Grantaire, Jehan, Bahorel, Musichetta, and Bossuet.

"We wanted to all be in the room to surprise him when he wakes up," Combeferre told her, "But the staff said no. So after he's awake, we're going to come and visit a few at a time." He hugged her then, and Azelma too, and told them to be strong.

In the elevator on the way up, Eponine slid her hand into Enjolras'. If Courfeyrac or Azelma noticed, neither said anything.

It was a while before Gavroche woke up, but when he finally did open his eyes, the first things he saw were his sisters.

He was groggy, very confused and muddled, and was heavily drugged. He had no idea where he was or why he was there, but he smiled when he spotted Enjolras, and his smile grew even bigger when he saw Courfeyrac.

The others were eventually permitted to come up one or two at a time, most of them bringing him little gifts, but only staying for a few minutes.

Although it was obvious that the poor kid was out of it and really had no idea what was going on, he seemed thrilled to see all of Eponine's friends.

When it was time to go, she left him last, stroking his head and kissing him on the forehead, reminding him that she loved him and telling him to get some sleep.

I hope you all hate me a little less after this. But things are looking up! Hopefully they'll be looking up for our stubborn couple soon too!

A bientôt!