48

The following day, Éponine found herself making the now very familiar walk to the Guardians building. She had no idea whether Enjolras had agreed to this meeting too – only that a young boy, working as a messenger for Éléonore, had come by to let her know that the man was ready to see her whenever she wanted.

She had let the boy go and thrown on a shawl, not wanting to be rude and keep the man waiting.

However, she found Enjolras hovering outside, wearing a red jacket and looking very uncomfortable. His tight facial expression eased somewhat as Éponine approached.

"I didn't think you'd agree to this," Éponine said, instead of a greeting.

"I didn't really have a choice," Enjolras said, shrugging. As he had before the revelation concerning his special power, he was avoiding her eye and turned abruptly on the spot as she drew closer to him. "I think I know what he wants with me."

"What is that?" Éponine asked curiously.

"You'll see," Enjolras said, holding the door open for her to step inside the Guardian's building. "He is Cosette's father – you know that, yes?"

"Yes, I knew that." She thought back to the night that she had entered the human world with Fantine and barely managed to suppress a shiver at the memory, of Cosette draped in white and ivory, pearls shining at her throat and tears gleaming in her eyes, with the ultimate prize of Marius beside her. "Is that what it is about?"

"No. No, I don't think so," he said, and he sighed a little. "I haven't seen him yet, so I can't be sure, but I have seen...others, who have shed light on his identity, so I have my suspicions."

"You're almost as mysterious as Clémence," Éponine muttered. "And that's not a good thing."

Enjolras barely suppressed a groan. "Please do not compare me to her," he complained.

"Not a fan of Clémence?" Éponine guessed.

"We are...very different," Enjolras said. They were now standing in the lobby, which was empty, both of them staring around as if hoping someone would materialise to help them. "And we had very different opinions on a certain matter."

"The advice she gave you?" Éponine said. Enjolras pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Yes," he said.

"What was it about?" Éponine asked, as a woman wearing pale blue bustled into the lobby carrying a heap of white sheets.

"Can I help you?" she huffed. She had hair the colour of steel and there was an odd, dark pin welt running down her left cheek.

"We're here to see someone, Éléonore arranged the meeting – it's with a Jean Valjean," Éponine replied.

"Jean? Oh, don't get me started – so many Jeans work here –" The woman adjusted her grip on the mass of fabric in her arms.

"No, he doesn't work here," Enjolras said.

The woman's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but then some of the uncertainty lifted after a few moments. "Éléonore arranged it, you say?" Without waiting for a response, the woman nodded. "Yes, I think I know what you mean – He's an elderly gentleman, this Jean?"

"Yes," Enjolras confirmed.

"Well, the last I saw of him and her they were in her office," the woman said. "Do you know where that is, or do you need me to show you the way?"

"I know where it is, but thank you," Enjolras said.

The woman nodded at them and carried on her way.

"Do you actually know where Éléonore's office is or did you just say that?" Éponine said.

"Of course I know where it is. I've been here many more times than you." Enjolras set off walking down one of the corridors that led off from the lobby, and she picked up her skirts and ran after him.

"Yes, but there are so many rooms – I don't think Éléonore has ever shown me into the same room twice," Éponine said.

"Well, I've been to her office on more than one occasion," Enjolras said.

Enjolras managed to get slightly ahead of Éponine as he spoke and she frowned at the back of his head. She remembered how he had been when he first arrived here, and wondered if he had been in such a bad place that so many visits to Éléonore had been necessary. She hadn't realised just how bad things might have been.

Unless she had misunderstood. It was possible he wanted to be a Guardian, maybe.

The idea nearly made her burst out laughing but before they could say anything more they were outside Éléonore's office. The last time she had been here she had been with Inès and Inès had just walked in, but Enjolras took the time to knock first.

"Come in," Éléonore called from within.

Éléonore was sat behind her desk, wearing a dress of dark purple satin with plum-coloured lace climbing her throat. Her orange hair was heaped over one shoulder and there was a pleasant smile on her face.

"Ah, I was wondering when you two would turn up," she said, slowly rising out of her seat. She gestured with one pale white hand towards the gentleman sat in front of the desk, white diamonds glittering with the movement. "This is Jean Valjean."

She had seen him so many times – she knew that, now, and yet he still somehow managed to look different to all the other times she had seen him. His hair was a snowy white, combed back off his lined forehead, and his dark eyes were kind; his shoulders were broad and he looked strong despite his age. Sat there in that armchair, he looked approachable and nice, but she had seen his face in various stages of her life and it was almost difficult to place him with the other times she had seen him. Younger and harder in the face, taking Cosette away from the inn, respectable and dignified walking with Cosette through Paris, exhausted and ready for death in the convent.

She wondered if he recognised her face from those times; pampered and spoilt, grubby and underfed, soft and glowing.

It took one glance to meet his eyes and she knew, she knew he knew who she was but she didn't know how he knew. She almost felt embarrassed for all the different sides of her past and wanted to curl in on herself. There was something about this man and the look in his eyes that made her want to examine every bad thing she had ever done, and it was because of this it took her so long to realise that she was still stood in the doorway and they were all staring at her.

"Éponine?" Enjolras prompted. He had moved to stand right in front of her and, for once, he was looking her right in the eye. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she murmured, shaking her head. Enjolras looked as if he didn't believe her but stepped aside, gesturing for her to sit down in the other chair opposite Valjean's.

"I plan on leaving you alone," Éléonore said, slipping out from behind her desk. "So one of you can have my chair."

Éponine sank into the one that Enjolras had pointed to, bunching her hands into her skirt around her knees. Her fingers curled tightly.

Éléonore gently touched her shoulder as she passed them, and then she had left the office, shutting the door behind her. Enjolras took Éléonore's seat, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket as he settled into his chair.

Moments slipped by in silence. Éponine watched her own hands, but she could feel eyes burning into her even though she wasn't sure if the eyes belonged to Enjolras or Valjean at this point.

"I would like to thank you," Valjean said eventually. His voice was soft and warm. She lifted her eyes to meet his. "For being there, the night that I died."

Any words she could say stuck in her throat, because she didn't want to admit that she hadn't wanted to be there, that she had only been there because Fantine had made her.

"I wanted to thank you for giving me a chance to see Fantine," he continued. "I had not thought I would get the chance to see her ever again. I cannot tell you how it felt...I was worried, considering everything..." He trailed off, gazing away from them towards the door. "I have spent many years...Trying to be better...And Cosette...My daughter..."

"I know Cosette," Éponine found herself saying.

Valjean slowly turned to look at her. His head tipped to one side. "I thought I recognised you," he said. She bowed her head. He cleared his throat. "My daughter was the best of my life," he murmured. "I only wanted Fantine to know that, but I could never have told her if it wasn't for you."

"I..." She pulled her fingers from her dress and linked them together, so hard she could feel the bones grinding together.

"And you, monsieur." Valjean twisted in his seat to face Enjolras more fully. "I want to apologise."

Enjolras' face was completely impassive, and then he spoke. "You have nothing to apologise for." His voice was gentle.

"I saved one that night," Valjean said. "But I could not have saved more."

"That is why you do not have to apologise to me," Enjolras said. "Please, monsieur, do not apologise – I do not resent you, or Marius, or the choice you made. None of us do."

"I had a lot of time to reflect on what happened," Valjean said.

"We all have," Enjolras said.

"It is not an occasion I can ever forget." His eyes closed. "I have seen so much in my life – seen so many things and lost so many things, been through so much. But it is difficult to forget the hours I spent with you and your men. Sometimes, when I close my eyes..."

"It's like you're back there." Enjolras' voice was muted. "I know."

Valjean's eyes opened, and they were soft. "Of course you do."

"I personally avoid thinking about it," Éponine frowned. Sometimes, images tried to crowd into her head but she couldn't let them; her head was too full already, and she didn't have room for the sight of guns firing, lighting the skies with yellow and orange sparks, no room for the feel of a ball tearing through her hand and the flesh of her stomach, no room for the feel of rain on her skin and the sight of Marius' face fading away over hers.

She was torn away from these images when Valjean turned to look at her. "You were there?" Surprise coloured his tone.

"She died before you arrived," Enjolras answered.

"I am sorry, mademoiselle," Valjean murmured.

"What for?" Éponine pursed her lips. "It was not your fault. I..." She glanced at Enjolras, and then ploughed on. "I chose to be there, and nothing could have made me leave. I...I know that now."

"We all chose to be there, monsieur," Enjolras said quickly. "And we all chose to stay. Your...Apology is kind, but...Not deserved. You didn't do anything wrong."

The old man smiled, and it was a sad smile, and Éponine's heart yearned to do something to ease the melancholy within it.

"On the contrary, monsieur, I seem to have struggled all my life to do anything right," he said, and by the time he had finished speaking his white eyebrows had dipped into a frown. He looked down at himself, and then glanced towards the door. "I think I have kept you both long enough."

Enjolras glanced towards her, and then moved to get out of his seat. She, however, stayed exactly where she was, another and very different conversation rushing around her head.

"You must help him..."

"Help who?"

"Valjean...He deserves it."

Fantine's voice repeated those three words again and again until she realised she was speaking herself. "I'd like to see you again, monsieur," she said, words rushed.

He looked surprised. Enjolras sat down.

"If you don't mind," Éponine ploughed on. "I know things can get lonely here, and...If you wanted, we could...Go on walks...I can show you the library. You can read, yes?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I can. This...This is a kind offer, mademoiselle." He smiled again, and this time the smile was not so sad. "I would like that. I would like it very much, actually."

She managed a smile in return.