Again, I apologize for the late update. This chapter is basically a way to set up for the building of Enjolras and Epoinine's relationship that will come in the following chapters (including 10)! So review for a sneak peek of the next chapter!

Chapter 9

Eponine huffed with frustration as she waited, yet again, for one of the men to answer her resentful cries for assistance. She could practically her pride dripping out of her as another desperate cry was falling from her lips. She had never despised herself or the state she was in more than she did in that moment. Not even the few and far between realizations that Marius will most likely never love her that somehow managed to occasionally break the surface of her mind that seemed to constantly attempt to push those realizations deep within her subconscious, was anything compared to the pure unadulterated self-loathing she was feeling. She felt vulnerable. Before she was locked in this cage like a bird with clipped wings, she had always been able to do something, even if she lacked control over others or the situation itself. She knew she had control over herself, her emotions, and could act them out freely. She could cry without having to quickly hide the tears from her siblings before they called in the men who would question her with worry shaking in their voices. She could scream and be thought of as just another miserable street rat and not have Joly force feeding her medications for the pain that, contrary to his belief, was not physical, but emotional. She could run and act as though she was fleeing from this wretched and deceivingly beautiful city never to return. Now, she could barely walk without requiring assistance. She felt weak, and that was an unexplored feeling for Eponine. One that she had no desire to discover.

Taking one last annoyed breath, she slowly pushed herself up, wincing slightly at the pain, and stood up from her enticingly comfortable bed. She had to do this. She could not be weak. She could not depend on those bourgeois boys who were sprinting blindly to their deaths. She knew more than they. She knew how to survive. She stood, looking at the ground with concentration and fear. She tentatively raised her now scrubbed clean foot (Which was thanks to the baths Enjolras insisted her on having) and took her first independent step. She let out a sigh of relief and continued slowly and cautiously to the bathroom.

She took a shaky step into the bathroom, slipping slightly on the thin layer of water that hugged the floors making a sharp pain shoot from her foot up through her leg. She let out a scream of pain and fell to the ground, unbinding the stitches that held her healing wound together, releasing a crimson liquid. She hit the floor with her fist, cursing herself for her stupidity and reluctantly screamed for help, and screamed for Enjolras. She surprised herself that Enjolras was the first name her mind went to when she was in need of help. But, he did seem like the most logical choice, Grantaire could barely hold himself up half the time, let alone herself, she would never put her siblings in that type of stressful situation, the sad, scared look that would be plastered on Courfeyrac's face would break her heart, Joly seemed logical enough, and yet, her mind made her call out for Enjolras for some reason. It puzzled her.

The puzzlement vanished as quickly as it had come, for it had been replaced with disappointed, despair, and rage she felt for herself, all trying to overcompensate for the untainted weakness that had now settled over her. "ENJOLRAS!" She screamed. There was no response, "ENJOLRAS! For God's sake, Enjolras, get your head out of those damned books! I am not one of those sniveling, idiotic women you normally tune out!" Her eyes filled with frustrated tears, "Stop pleasuring yourself into a bloody red and black flag, you masochistic revolutionary!" She felt all of the hatred she had for herself was being projected onto Enjolras, but she was too infuriated to care about how preposterous she was acting.

Enjolras quickly ran in the bathroom looking a bit out of sorts. His curly locks looked disheveled from his constant aggravated pulling of them and he had dark circles under his darting eyes, "My God," he sighed, "Why must I always find you injured? It seems you cannot be left alone for one bloody minute without finding a way to injure yourself further than you already have. And yet, you call me a masochist."

He knelt down and took a towel, putting pressure on the wound. He rolled his clearly irritated eyes at her and looked around hurriedly, "Damn it! How am I supposed to fetch Joly when I cannot trust you with yourself alone?"

Eponine stared at him, she had never seen him so flustered and annoyed. He had seemed almost worried as he busted through the door, perhaps even a bit afraid. It was odd and out of place, and he clearly thought so too as he quickly replaced them with annoyance. He always seemed to maintain his composure, rarely releasing any of his emotions for the public to see. Everything was always calculated with him, she noticed that as she continued to live and heal in his home he would have light conversations with her, enough to make her feel comfortable about her constant presence in his home, but distant enough to never break past the point of "friendly acquaintances". She had only seen his put his guard down once before, and that was when he took her hand in a moment of pure emotion during the conversation they had shared before the attack.

"I can take care of myself," Eponine said defensively.

Enjolras let out a light, sarcastic laugh, "Obviously not! Every time you were not in the presence of one of the Les Amis you seem to get injured!" He looked at her seriously, "I used to think of you as a victim of circumstance, that trouble seemed to seek you out and you could not control it, now I realize, the main person you need protection from is yourself. You seek out ways to get yourself hurt as some sort of self-punishment and you leave everyone else to clean up the mess," he sighed, looking at the blood that now stained his floor and towel, "And what a mess it is," he said quietly.

She glared at him, "You are sorely mistaken, Monsieur! If I caused myself as much harm as you claim I do, I would not be alive today! I have survived this long because of myself. The only reason I attempted to walk is because when I am back on the streets, I am going to need all my strength and independence back if I intend on surviving."

He looked deep into her dark eyes and said, "You would not be alive right now without Joly, Grantaire, Azelma, Gavroche, and me. It is time you start appreciating that and stop carelessly throwing around the work we did to keep you here today."

Eponine was at a loss for words, so choose instead, to continue to silently glare at him.

"Now, can I trust you will stay where you are while I retrieve Grantaire?" he asked.

She continued her glare and slowly nodded. He wordlessly got up and left.

"You seemed to have just pulled the stitches, but nothing too major. Please, be more careful Eponine," Joly said shaking his head lightly.

"I was calling for someone to help me walk to the bathroom, but you men never seem to hear me. Excuse me for attempting to spare my bladder from a tortuous wait," she defended.

"If that is the case, it seems you cannot be alone until you are healed. That will give you no excuse to wander off injuring yourself further, for assistance will always be around you. It will be beneficial as it seems Mademoiselle Eponine cannot be trusted alone," Enjolras stated.

"That is absolutely ridiculous and I will not have it!" yelled Eponine.

"It is not debatable, you will always have someone in close proximity to you until you are healed," he said taking an intimidating step closer to her. She met his glare with defiant eyes.

"Unfortunately, Eponine that seems like the safe option" Joly said gently to her shrinking back slightly from her gaze, "Only until you can walk unassisted again."

"Then it is settled," Enjolras said, hoisting Eponine up gently into a standing position and walking her into the guest room, grabbing some of his books and papers on the way.

He laid her back on her bed and sat at the desk, emerging himself in his book, she rolled her eyes and turned so her back was facing him. This was going to be a long healing process.

Thank you to judybear236 for the Eponine falling in the bathroom idea!