33

"It's typical that I find you wandering around this late at night," a man called out as she began to walk away from her flat.

She rolled her eyes at the sound of Enjolras' familiarly smooth voice; she came to a halt and turned to face the blond man, who walked towards her with brisk, short steps.

"Is there a problem with it?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Enjolras said. "I hardly think it is safe, do you?"

"I think it's a lot safer than Paris," Éponine shrugged. "And I know that from personal experience."

"I also think I know where you're going," Enjolras said, finally reaching her. They began to walk together, side by side.

"Please, enlighten me." She pulled her shawl up higher around her neck until it brushed her earlobes.

"You're going to the river," he said. "Courfeyrac told us about the Portal you conjured tonight."

"It bothered me," Éponine admitted. "You're right, I'm going to the river. You don't have to come with me."

The expression on Enjolras' face suggested he thought she was crazy, and a part of her wondered whether he might be right. "Of course I'm coming with you," he said. "I don't think Combeferre would ever speak to me again if I let you go off by yourself to deal with whatever it is."

"You really don't have to," she said.

"I know," he replied.

The silence that fell over them as they walked was comfortable and, for a while, Éponine didn't feel the need to speak to her companion. However, a sudden thought occurred to her and it was a question she had to ask.

"So, do you often lurk about outside my flat?" she asked, "Or was this just a coincidence?"

He frowned. "Combeferre and I knew you might try and go to the river tonight…"

"Am I really that obvious?" she murmured under her breath.

"I also had no desire to sleep, whilst Combeferre was feeling tired," Enjolras continued, "So I offered to go to your flat. It was actually my intention to knock on your door and impose on you for a few hours until morning came, and then Combeferre could occupy you by taking you to the library, but things don't always work out as planned."

"You were assuming I would let you into my flat," Éponine retorted.

"You would have," Enjolras said confidently as they slowly descended the steps to the riverbank.

"Don't be so certain." Éponine walked straight to the very edge of the riverbank, the toes of her boots poking over the edge. The water was pure pitch black in the darkness, and not even the lights reflected off it. It looked too still to be real, almost like glass.

She also couldn't hear the whispers at all; the riverbank was completely silent, save for the sound of hers and Enjolras' breathing.

"Can you hear anything?" she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

Enjolras stepped forward to stand beside her, his brow furrowing. "No," he said, eventually. "I cannot hear anything at all apart from me and you."

"Maybe they're further up," she suggested, carefully walking along the edge of the riverbank. She didn't think they would be, though, because this was the place she'd heard them speaking earlier on.

"This is just an idea," Enjolras said, stepping back from the riverbank and clasping his hands behind his back.

"If you're going to suggest we go home, be quiet," Éponine threw over her shoulder.

"I wasn't, actually," Enjolras replied. "I was going to say that, if you can hear them – and I could hear them, too, earlier in the day – it would make sense that they could hear us, too."

"What do you mean?" Éponine turned to face him.

"It's late," he said. "It's dark, and you can't hear them talking anymore. Maybe they have gone to sleep. But if they can hear us, then you could wake them up."

Éponine tipped her head back and stared across the river, squinting. "How?"

"Try shouting," Enjolras suggested. "It usually works for me when Courfeyrac decides to shout through my bedroom door."

"What should I shout?" Éponine said, raising her voice as she asked the question.

"I don't know." Enjolras shrugged. "This is your venture, so it's entirely up to you."

She shot him a reproachful look and then ignored him, staring across the river. "Hello!" she shouted, at the top of her voice. "Can you hear me, people across the river?"

The seconds stretched out in complete silence. And then the whispering began.

"Did you hear that?"

"Someone said hello –"

"It can't have been to us…who would say hello to us?"

"I don't know, Arnaud, maybe someone who wants to help us?"

"Then why are they just shouting hello? Why aren't they trying to get us through the barrier?"

Éponine turned to look at Enjolras with excitement on her face. "They can hear me!" she exclaimed.

"Of course we can hear you!" a woman's voice shouted from beyond the river. "We need to get through!"

"I don't understand how to help," Éponine called back. Beside her, Enjolras made a small noise at the back of his throat.

"You need to try and get us to your side!" another woman's voice ordered.

"There's a river in the way," Éponine said. "I don't know…"

"So swim," an annoyed male voice snapped.

Enjolras shook his head. "Éponine, I think we should go and find a Guardian," he said. "We don't know what we're dealing with."

But Éponine was concentrating on the endless field beyond the river. With slow movements, she slid her shawl from around her shoulders and allowed it to pool on the floor. She began to unlace her boots.

"Éponine," Enjolras said, voice warning. "Don't –"

She let her first boot drop to the ground.

"Éponine, put your shoes on," Enjolras commanded. "This is silly."

She removed her other boot and allowed it to join the other one on the paving stones. "Be quiet," she said. "As you said, this is my venture, not yours."

Then, before Enjolras could say anything else, Éponine climbed down so that she was sat on the edge of the river, her legs dangling. Her feet, clad in stockings, dipped into the water. The sensation felt cool, but unlike the feeling of being immersed in actual water.

Enjolras put his hand on her shoulder but she pushed off the edge, letting her body sink beneath the river's still surface. The feeling of the water pressing against her body was an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. For a few moments, fear clung to her heart as she realised how deep the water was; her feet could not reach the bottom. She'd never been taught how to swim, so she relied completely on instinct, her legs moving like windmills beneath the water. Her arms splashed as she struggled not to go under.

"Éponine, you fool, you can't swim!" Enjolras' voice was irritated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrugging out of his red jacket and beginning to pull off his boots.

Water flooded into her eyes and she coughed and spluttered. The water that entered her mouth tasted familiar – too familiar, in fact; it was just as sweet and as pleasant as Bliss.

Forcing herself to stop coughing, she pushed herself forward, forcing her body to move through the water. She found it a surprisingly easy thing to do; the water in this river didn't seem as dense as water in the living world.

She heard a splash behind her, and then Enjolras cried out. "I can't move," he said.

Éponine whirled around in the water. "What?"

Sure enough, the blond man was motionless, his shoulders and head sticking out from the water's surface. Something similar to panic was on his face.

"Try and move your arms," Éponine called, spitting water out of her mouth.

"I am telling you, I cannot move," he said. "I can't raise my arms or move my legs – I feel like I'm stuck in a block of clay –"

"Now who is the fool?" Éponine murmured under her breath. "Just – just wait a moment."

She lurched through the water in his direction. Finally, she reached him. Their bodies bumped into each other. She could feel his legs against hers through her skirts. She put her hand on his arm and began to pull him back towards the river's edge.

"Help me," she said. "Don't just be a lump –"

"I still can't move my arms," Enjolras hissed.

Éponine spat more water out of her mouth. She let go of him and stuck her hands beneath the water, wrapping her fingers around one of his wrists and pulling it from the water's grasp. "Try moving your fingers," she suggested, and watched as all of his finger's on that hand waggled.

She wound her arm around his waist and continued to haul him towards the riverbank. His body collided with the bank first, and he released a small grunt on impact. She pulled his arms back out of the water and he reached for the side, curling his fingers around the edge of the pavement and then pulling himself out of the water. She kept her arms and hands on his hips and helped to push him out.

Enjolras lay on the riverbank for a few moments, breathing heavily with his eyes closed, water forming a puddle around his body.

Éponine, meanwhile, continued to tread water. She could still hear the voices talking beyond the river, but she forced herself to ignore them and focused her attentions entirely upon Enjolras.

"Are you getting out?" he said, after composing himself. He sat up, placing one arm over his knee.

"No," she said, gesturing towards the other side of the river, splashing water. "I'm still going over there."

Enjolras' mouth set into a thin line. "Be careful," he said. "I can't help you if you get into trouble."

She nodded. "I'll try my best," she said. Then she spun in the water, and began to move back towards the other side of the river.