45

The man in purple who had shown them into the house showed them back out. Clémence had flopped into a chair in the conservatory and didn't even bid them goodbye, and the three of them walked in silence until they were completely away from Clémence's home.

It was Éponine who broke the strained silence first. "She wants to see Enjolras," she said, without preamble.

"Enjolras?" Combeferre frowned. "Why would she want to see him?"

"Apparently, he can see the future," Éponine murmured.

Combeferre barked out a laugh, but there was no humour in it. "I have known Enjolras since we were children," he said. "I know almost everything there is to know about him – he cannot see the future!"

"Clémence thinks he can," Éponine said. "And they are dead states, Combeferre, if you remember – I could not create Portals when I was alive –"

"That's different," Combeferre said, and then he carried on to say, "Enjolras hasn't mentioned anything to do with this. Clémence must be mistaken."

"I doubt it," Éléonore said. "It is Clémence's power – to be able to see the future, and the past, and the present…She knows all there is to know. If she says Enjolras can see the future…She's telling the truth."

"He's never said anything about it," Combeferre insisted.

"He has – he told me – he told me something," Éponine said, avoiding mentioning exactly what that was. She swallowed, trying not to think about the fact she was staying here for the rest of her life, and how she felt about that. "Anyway, the point is, she wants to see him – talk to him."

"He might not like that," Combeferre warned. "If it is true – and he hasn't mentioned it – then it's not something he feels comfortable talking about, and to tell a complete stranger –"

"I had to talk to her," Éponine interrupted. "There's not much difference between him and I, apart from the fact that he's avoiding talking to any of us about it."

They reached Combeferre's apartment. Éléonore slowly drew to a halt. "I have to get back to work," she said. "Good luck with persuading Enjolras. And Éponine…I hope today was helpful and you found out everything you needed. Remember, I'm still here to talk if you need to."

Éponine nodded at her. "Thank you," she said. She saw Combeferre inch closer to Éléonore and imagined that they probably wanted some privacy; so she turned her back on them and walked up to Combeferre's front door.

She didn't need to knock. It opened before she even reached it, and Enjolras was stood in the doorway. "Courfeyrac said you met with the expert," he said, instead of greeting her.

She brushed past him into the apartment, and she paused for a few moments as she took in the scene before her. Courfeyrac had, at some point, brought Gavroche and Inès over, and he was currently playing chess with Inès. Bahorel and Gavroche were using chess pieces to re-enact some kind of battle on the floor.

"Hello," she said to them, unwinding the shawl from her shoulders and letting it drop onto Gavroche's head. He scowled and snatched it away from his hair, balling it up into his fist.

Courfeyrac looked up and he smiled, very brightly, whilst Bahorel gave a small grunt in greeting before making two chess pieces smack into each other with such force she thought they might break.

"You're back," Courfeyrac sang, waiting for Inès to make her next move.

"What did he tell you?" Enjolras pressed, walking around to stand beside Éponine. Combeferre walked in at that moment, shutting the door behind himself.

"She told me I'm able to – I can control Portals, travel to the living world and travel between different places here in the dead world," Éponine said. "In a bit more detail than that, but most of it was what I already knew, deep down."

Combeferre flopped down onto one of the sofas. "She was certainly an interesting woman," he said.

"She had a beautiful house," Éponine commented. "I've never seen anything like it – especially not here."

"What did she want to talk to you about?" Combeferre said, leaning forwards and bracing his elbows on his knees. "When you went to walk in the gardens?"

"Things," Éponine said, and then she remembered Enjolras, and she stared at him hard because she realised she was a little bit annoyed with him right now. "There are consequences to the things I can do –"

"Addiction?" Combeferre guessed. "That's what Éléonore thought…"

"That, and…" She cleared her throat. "There's a limit on how many times a person can travel to the world of the living, before they get – well, trapped is the word that Clémence used. It means they can't move on – they stay here forever."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Enjolras look down at his feet. She moved forwards and sank down onto the sofa next to Combeferre, and finally looked at Enjolras. "She wants to meet you," she said to him.

"She wants to meet Enjolras?" Courfeyrac said. "Why?"

Enjolras cleared his throat. "Because I'm like Éponine."

She shook her head. "No, you're not."

"I am in the sense I'm not like everyone else in this room," he countered. "The difference is I can…" She'd never seen him lost for words, but she knew he was struggling with what to say next.

"He can see the future," she supplied for him.

There was silence, interrupted only by Enjolras heaving a heavy sigh. Everyone apart from Inès turned to stare at Enjolras, but he avoided their gazes, instead keeping his eyes on the floorboards.

"You've oversimplified it," Enjolras said, voice very quiet. "It's not like that. I have to look people in the eye – and I see flashes – bits and pieces every time. Never a whole picture."

"So you couldn't, say, tell me my future?" Courfeyrac asked. His eyes sparkled and his lips were still stretched into a cheery grin.

"Absolutely not," Enjolras said. "That would be…unfair."

"Is that why you didn't tell me?" Éponine said, forcing the room into silence once more.

"Tell you what?" Courfeyrac's voice was suspicious, and his smile dimmed somewhat.

"I'm never moving on," Éponine murmured. "I'm staying here forever. I'll travel to the world of the living too many times and be trapped."

"I did tell you," Enjolras said. "I just – I didn't explain. I'm sorry, Éponine. I – It's difficult. It's hard knowing…" He shook his head, golden curls bouncing, and he raked a hand through his hair shortly afterwards. "I'm sorry if I have upset you, Éponine, but I did tell you and you said you didn't want to leave –"

"I don't," Éponine agreed, but the words felt wrong in her mouth – they felt like a lie, and she bit her lip just after she had spoken. "I mean – The idea of leaving like Fantine…" She glanced towards Inès', who's back had stiffened at the mention of the name. Éponine swallowed. "I don't like that. I'm not particularly fond of the idea of being here alone for hundreds of years either."

"You're not on your own," Enjolras said. "You're…There are others with you. You're not by yourself."

He was looking up now, but he was not meeting her eyes. She wondered if that was because he didn't want to see something else in her future, or whether he just felt awkward. But she saw Courfeyrac's head bobbing around out of the corner of her eye and realised he was trying to catch Enjolras' eye.

Éponine swatted a hand in Courfeyrac's direction. "Stop it," she commanded, her voice tired. "If Enjolras doesn't want to tell you about your future, he doesn't have to."

Courfeyrac pouted.

"So are you going to meet this 'expert', then?" Bahorel spoke, pushing the chess pieces aside.

"If you say no, she'll probably just turn up here," Combeferre said. "She strikes me as that sort of woman."

"I want to meet her," Courfeyrac said, his face brightening at the very thought. There was also a touch of determination in his eyes that made Éponine wince internally.

Enjolras raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because she might know if I have some special powers," Courfeyrac said loftily.

"You don't," Enjolras said. "I could tell you that."

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac scoffed, his voice half a laugh. "Like I believe that! You couldn't tell Éponine about her powers, so how would you know about mine?"

Enjolras made a noise at the back of his throat. "That's not how it works –"

"I'm coming," Courfeyrac said stubbornly. He was almost wriggling around in excitement at the prospect and said, "You can consider me moral support!"

"I'd have Éponine with me," Enjolras pointed out.

"You can consider me extra moral support," Courfeyrac said, with a shrug. "Combeferre, you think I should go, don't you? Bahorel?"

"I don't really care," Bahorel said.

Combeferre rolled his eyes. "In the kindest way possible, neither do I. I don't really have a desire to see Clémence Lefebvre so soon…"

"Clémence Lefebvre?" Enjolras said, frowning. "Isn't she that writer?"

"Yes, she is," Combeferre said. "I think she can potentially be considered every bit as pretentious as you considered her writing."

"It is a very nice house, though," Éponine murmured. "The gardens are beautiful."

"I've always liked gardens," Courfeyrac sighed dreamily.

Combeferre and Enjolras exchanged looks. Éponine, however, kept her eyes on Courfeyrac, who was grinning at her, clearly having decided it was her he needed to win over rather than his friends.

She felt her face heat up under the brightness of his smile, and she turned away from him to look at Enjolras. "I don't think it would hurt to bring Courfeyrac," she said.

Still sat on the floor, Courfeyrac let out a cheer whilst Bahorel, for some reason, groaned and dragged a hand over his face.

"You'll be responsible for him," Enjolras muttered, before walking past them all and disappearing into his room.

"I'm not a child," Courfeyrac objected in a petulant voice, before jumping to his feet and rubbing his hands together. "Now, I must go and choose a truly splendid cravat for tomorrow. It won't do for me to show up wearing an inadequate cravat, not if this house is as grand as you say..."