20

By far the oddest thing about being dead was time passing. It was difficult for Éponine to gauge how long she had been there. The days did not melt into night, like they did in the living world; it changed suddenly, like the flipping of a coin. And some days seemed to last for weeks, some nights for years, and yet others passed in the blink of an eye.

That made it difficult to spot at first, but after a while, Éponine had to acknowledge something that had been worrying her for what felt like months: Hyacinthe was not changing.

Hyacinthe was still the tiny, scrawny kitten she was when Gavroche brought her home. Éponine knew that food was not a necessity in this world, so it kind of made sense that the kitten did not gain weight. But there were other aspects that made her think. Hyacinthe's fur did not grow after Éponine had cut it short, leaving the kitten with a permanently startled, spiky look.

It made her think about humans. She noticed that her nails had not grown since she'd arrived and Penelope had cut them; neither had her hair since the ends were trimmed. Gavroche's hair was still shorn short, hadn't grown an inch. Neither of them had put on weight, either, despite the fact they ate a lot now they only had to conjure it out of thin air.

But this was not what was bothering Éponine. In a way, the fact her hair wasn't growing and her nails weren't growing was almost a blessing, as it was one less thing to worry about. What worried Éponine was this simple fact: the kitten did not appear to be growing any older.

It was harder to tell a detail like that on a boy like Gavroche. Children aged imperceptibly when you were around them constantly. She supposed it was probably the same for any living thing you were around everyday.

So she decided to ask an outsider, someone who did not see Hyacinthe every single day. She ended up asking Enjolras, who had seen the kitten a couple of times when Gavroche had first found it, but hadn't seen her since.

Enjolras looked incredibly uncomfortable stood in her flat, and kept on staring around at it as if he was expecting a monster to jump out at him at any moment. She retrieved Hyacinthe from where she was sleeping in Gavroche's bedroom and dumped the kitten in Enjolras' unprepared arms.

He nearly dropped the little thing, but when he managed to right himself he held her under her front legs at arm's length.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking for again?" he asked, clearly confused. Hyacinthe stared back at him without blinking, and it seemed to unnerve the blond gentleman even further.

"Kittens grow reasonably fast, don't they?" Éponine said, planting her hands on her hips.

"I suppose that might be true," Enjolras said. "But what's that got to do with me?"

"You saw her twice when she first got here, in the space of a few days," Éponine said. "When Gavroche first found her. Would you say she looks exactly the same now as she did then?"

Enjolras lifted the kitten into a more comfortable position and turned her around a few times. Hyacinthe let out a plaintive meow at his handling, her legs dangling awkwardly.

"I would say," Enjolras began slowly, "That she looks exactly the same to me now as she did then."

"See, that's what I thought," Éponine said, wringing her hands together. "She's not aging."

"That could be one explanation for it," Enjolras said. "Or there could be others. Why don't you ask that Guardian friend of Combeferre's?"

"You mean Éléonore?"

"Yes, that's the one." Enjolras handed the kitten back to Éponine, and then brushed his hands against his clothes as if trying to rid himself of essence of cat.

Éponine held little Hyacinthe against her chest and nodded. "I will do," she said. "Thank you, though. I'm aware it sounds a little silly…"

Enjolras shook his head. "If it's been worrying you that much, for whatever reason, then it's not silly," he said. "I'm glad I could help give you a peace of mind in some way."

Éponine didn't respond to that comment, because she wasn't certain if he had given her a peace of mind at all.

XXX

The following day, Éponine went to the Guardian's building. She decided to go alone, without mentioning it to anyone like Combeferre. She'd been shown into one of the waiting rooms and had no other choice but to sit around a plain wooden table and wait.

It took a while before she was seen by Éléonore, as apparently there had been a flood of deceased overnight and the Guardians were overrun trying to hunt them all down.

The Éléonore Éponine was met with was not the composed, elegant woman she was used to; it was a flustered one with loose hair and no jewellery. "They caught me unawares," she said. "I had to work overtime to try and find someone. Is everything all right? Has Gavroche gone missing again?"

Éponine shook her head. "No, it's nothing to do with him," she said. "It's just a question I have."

Éléonore sank into the chair opposite Éponine's. After dragging a hand through her hair, pulling it back off her face, Éléonore said, "And what question might that be?"

"Do you remember Gavroche found a cat?" Éponine said. "It was a kitten, really. A tiny scrap of an animal."

"Yes," Éléonore said. "Combeferre mentioned it and I saw it at that get together we had. It was very cute."

"She is very cute," Éponine agreed. "But I've noticed something."

At those words, Éléonore's eye twitched. It was almost as if she knew what was coming next and she didn't want the words to be said out loud.

"And what's that?" Éléonore said carefully.

"Hyacinthe – the kitten – she hasn't got any bigger," Éponine said. "She doesn't seem to be getting older. She's exactly the same as she was when Gavroche found her. And I've noticed other things, too…Like my hair doesn't grow anymore, and neither does my nails. Gavroche's hair used to grow very quickly when he was alive but ever since it was cut off it's stayed the exact same length. We haven't put on any weight even though we eat a lot. Nothing…changes here…That's what I've observed."

Éléonore heaved a very, very heavy sigh. "The body remains in the state it was in when it died," she said. "And it retains any changes made in this world, such as changes to hair, nails, permanent alterations to the skin…But aside from that, your body stays the same."

Her mind immediately shooting to Gavroche, Éponine said, "How do children get older, then?"

There was a long silence, that grew weightier with every moment that passed.

"They don't," Éléonore answered, not meeting Éponine's gaze. "They stay children."

Éponine knew that her eyebrows had raised and her eyes widened. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "They stay children? What does that even mean?"

"They will physically remain a child," Éléonore said, clearing her throat. "Their minds will grow, but their body will not. It's just…"

"So Gavroche is going to be a little boy forever?" Éponine felt sick.

"Not forever," Éléonore hedged. "But for however long it takes before he…moves on, so to speak."

"That could take hundreds of years," Éponine said. "Those…books that Combeferre reads – Clémence Lefebvre – she's met people who have been here over two hundred years. That's two hundred years as a child! A child with a man's mind – what if he wants – what if he wants a wife? A family?"

"Well - no one can have a family here in that sense," Éléonore said. "You can go through ceremonies similar to marriage, of course, but…Me, you, we cannot bear children. You must have realised that."

Éponine hadn't realised that. She hadn't even thought about it. But now, of course, it made so much sense. How could the dead bear the living?

That realisation felt like a punch in the stomach – no, a thousand punches in the stomach. She'd never really given much thought to having children – when she was alive she'd thought in the deep recesses of her mind that childbearing would be impractical given her situation, but probably a very likely and unfortunate occurrence – but now she thought about the life she had here…Nothing was needed to stay alive, you simply lived, and it was safer…She'd begun to enjoy mothering Gavroche…And now to be told she'd never be able to be a mother.

And Gavroche would never get to grow up. He'd never become a man, only in the mind – he'd never be able to do so many things…

"I'm sorry," Éponine heard Éléonore murmur, but she paid it no heed.

How did one tell another person that they were never going to grow up?

XXX

Éponine found herself on Combeferre's doorstep.

The door answered on the sixth round of knocking, but it was not Combeferre that answered; it was Enjolras.

"Is Combeferre in?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"He's at the library," Enjolras said, staring down at her with narrowed eyes. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

She pushed past him into the front room of the flat. She heard him shut the door, then clear his throat.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," he said. "What is wrong?"

"I went to see Éléonore about the fact that Hyacinthe hasn't grown," Éponine explained, "And she told me that aging is apparently impossible here."

Enjolras did his usual trick of keeping his eyes somewhere above Éponine's head, which only fuelled the irritation burning in her stomach.

"And that means?" he prompted.

"That Gavroche is going to be a little boy for the remainder of his time in this stupid place," Éponine snapped. "And none of us are going to be parents, either, because apparently that's impossible too. It's just a lot – a lot of shit and – and I don't know how to tell him that…He's never going to be a man. He's never going to be like you, or Courfeyrac, or Combeferre, or…"

She realised with horror that she was crying. She swiped furiously at her eyes, hating herself in that moment for her display of vulnerability.

"He needs to know," she whispered, voice breaking. "He deserves to know. But I can't tell him. Where would I start?"

Enjolras studied her in silence. She could tell that his mind was ticking over with options of what to suggest. With a sigh, he finally said, "I could tell him for you."

Éponine bit her lip. She hated herself again for not being able to do it, even though she knew it should be her that told Gavroche.

"Thank you," she murmured, mopping up the last of her tears with her shawl. "Thank you."

XXX

Gavroche returned from his wanderings that evening bubbling with joy. He'd spent the entire day with Prouvaire, who had conjured some paint and had let the young boy help him paint the flat in various bright, garish colours.

Gavroche burst through the door, smattered with paint – blue, red, yellow, orange and green, and one smudge of purple beneath his eye. He explained, in a gabbling way, that Joly had been horrified at Prouvaire's decision to paint Joly's room bright orange, and a paint fight had ensued.

His story came to a stop when he saw Enjolras sat on the sofa. Éponine felt like crying again, because she knew what was coming next.

She sat on the sofa whilst Enjolras sat on the floor beside Gavroche. Both of them sat cross-legged. She didn't speak as Enjolras' explanation began; she kept as silent as possible, and watched as her brother's face went from confused to angry to hurt.

The boy's fist swung out and caught Enjolras on the chin, and then Gavroche fled from the flat, leaving the door open behind him.