57

"Éponine? Éponine, is everything all right?"

Éponine couldn't say how long she had been wandering around for, but she was grateful that someone had managed to pull her out of her reverie. It was Valjean who had spoken to her, and he was walking along with a stack of books under his arm.

"Hello," she greeted him, and he took one look at her and frowned.

"Hello," he said. "Are you all right?" he repeated.

She nodded, and gave him what was probably a very wobbly smile. He shook his head. "Pardon me for saying so, mademoiselle, but you don't look very happy at all."

"It's nothing," she said. "I won't keep you."

She made to step past him, but he carefully intercepted her. "Please," he said. "Would you like a drink, perhaps? My home is just up there." He gestured with his free hand towards one of the buildings next to them.

She hesitated. "It's really nothing..." she said.

"Well, then," he said. "Then it shall be just a drink between two acquaintances." His smile then was very warm, and she found herself climbing the stairs up to Valjean's apartment. It was small, sparsely furnished, with dark walls and dark floors, and there were books on most available surfaces and stacked on the floors.

"I never found much time to read in life," he said, putting the books he had been carrying upon a stack by the door. "But I find I enjoy it rather a lot. The library here is excellent."

"Yes, it is," she agreed, hovering in the doorway.

"I've been making my way through the works of Clémence Lefebvre," he said. "It's fascinating."

"You know, I've never actually read her books," Éponine said. "But I have met her. She's a...strange woman."

"Knowledgeable," Valjean said.

Éponine nodded, not really sure what to say to that. Valjean gestured to one of his sofas.

"Please, take a seat," he said. "Do you have a particular preference for what you would like to drink?"

"Not really," Éponine said, secretly wishing for something strong and alcoholic. Did they make alcohol here? She'd only ever had Bliss.

Valjean produced a drink that was dark gold in colour, and tasted very rich and sweet and spicy. It was almost what she'd wanted, but without the burn of alcohol down her throat. She took a few big gulps and then realised that Valjean was staring at her, his own drink cradled and untouched in his big hands.

"Now," he said, eyeing how quickly she had gone through more than half of her drink. "What would seem to be the problem? You seemed upset when I saw you."

Éponine stared down at the drink in her hands. "It's – it's complicated," she said.

"Yes, that's what people always say." Valjean took a very small sip of the drink in his hand, and then said, "I am always here, if you ever want to talk. People need to talk about things like this."

Éponine raised her eyebrows. "Things like what?"

"Whatever it is that has upset you," Valjean said. "It's obviously something quite big, or you wouldn't hesitate to tell me."

"As I said, it's...It's complicated. It's personal, and, and I don't really know where to begin." She took another big gulp of drink and wished it would burn. It didn't.

There were a few moments of silence. Valjean cleared his throat. "It does not happen to involve any of the young men you are friends with, does it?"

"Very observant, monsieur," Éponine murmured.

"I may not have been involved with things like that when I lived, but I am not blind – I do notice things," Valjean said. He leaned back in his chairs. "Which ones, if you don't mind me asking? There's the three you're always with...Monsieur Enjolras, Monsieur Courfeyrac...Monsieur Combeferre, although I think he is involved with the Guardian..."

"He is," Éponine confirmed. She bit her lip. "It's the other two."

Valjean nodded, as if that was what he had suspected all along. "Is it a..." Here he hesitated, suddenly looking slightly uncomfortable. "Is it a romantic matter, between the three of you?"

"No!" Éponine threw back the rest of her drink in a hurry, holding the glass so hard that her knuckles went white. "Nothing like that!"

They both went quiet again.

Eventually, Éponine said, "If you knew that someone was lying to you, what would you do?"

Valjean's face immediately closed off. It was instantaneous. His face went blank, and his eyes gave nothing away. "Lying," he echoed.

"Lying," she confirmed.

"Someone is lying to you," Valjean said. His thumb ran around the rim of the glass in his hand. "Lying can be very complicated."

"I know. I know it can be." Éponine licked traces of the sweet drink from her lips. "I want to know what you would do."

Valjean put his drink to one side, on a little round table next to the arm of his chair. "First," he said, "I would try and think about the reasons why the person might be lying to you. Are they doing it to help? You might not think they're helping, but they might think they are. They might be doing it to protect."

He paused, and linked his fingers together. "That can be the problem with lying – some lies are told to help, because you think that the truth might hurt someone. But people don't always realise that sometimes, the person that they think they are protecting does not necessarily want or need that protection."

Éponine thought about Enjolras, about the broken edge on his voice when she asked him if he knew what was going to happen.

"I was not so honest in my life," Valjean continued. "I have told a lot of lies. I have lied to the one who is dearest to me; now I am dead, and I am not sure if I will ever see her again. But I do wish, sometimes, that I had been honest with her earlier in my life. Maybe things would have been easier. Maybe they wouldn't have – maybe they would have been harder – but I don't know that. I do suspect now, though, that my Cosette was probably a little stronger and hardier than I ever gave her credit for, really."

An image of Cosette's lovely face flashed into Éponine's head, closely followed by Marius. She pursed her lips before she found herself saying something about either of them, and instead said, "How is that relevant to my situation, monsieur?"

"Do you think that the man who is lying to you wants to help you?" Valjean said.

"I would like to think so," Eponie said. "He's a good man. I don't think he'd want to hurt me..."

"So he's trying to protect you," Valjean. "Or, at least, that's a distinct possibility."

"I think he is," Éponine said.

"Do you mind me asking what it concerns, this lie?" Valjean's hand twitched as if he wanted to take hold of his drink again, but he let it fall back down to his lap again.

Éponine hesitated. She felt like she could trust this man. There was just something about him. So she said, "I think that this has been discussed with you before, monsieur, but basically...I have powers. I can travel to the world of the living, amongst other things. And Enjolras has a power, too. He can see our futures, when he looks in our eyes. He has told me that I am never leaving this place. I will never move on. I am staying here for eternity."

Valjean blinked a little, in a manner that suggested he hadn't entirely understood what she had said, but then he nodded, so she continued.

"He does not think that I should be seeing Courfeyrac, because that could hurt me," Éponine said. "That's what he seems to think, and it's probably because he knows; something is going to happen, and it's going to hurt me and Courfeyrac and I don't want that to happen."

She distracted herself by leaning over to put her glass down, her dress rustling as she moved. She gathered her shawl tighter around herself and sat back, her throat aching.

"You obviously do want to know," Valjean said, quietly.

"Of course I want to know!" Éponine said, her voice thick even to her own ears. "I don't – I don't want to live in ignorance about this – I want to be prepared."

"And what if you don't like what he has to tell you?" Valjean proposed.

"I'm not a child. I've not been a child for years," Éponine said. "I've been through so much, and I know I can deal with it –"

"Maybe that is what you ought to tell Enjolras." Valjean rubbed a hand over his chin. "Maybe you need to remind him that, although he means well, this isn't his place. If he tells you, you can choose how to proceed with the situation."

"He won't tell me. He's stubborn." Éponine pressed her own hands to her face, covering her eyes.

"Yes, I feared as much," Valjean sighed. "Could Combeferre not help? That boy seems like he'd be very good at talking sense into people..."

"He's tried, too."

Valjean went quiet for a while, and both of them sat in silence. Eponine didn't move her hands, just focused on the swirling, colourful lights in the blackness she could see.

"I'm scared," she whispered. Valjean didn't prompt for an explanation, but she continued regardless. "I'm scared that I will stay, and Courfeyrac will go." She felt so silly admitting it; they barely knew each other, after all, and yet...

"What makes you think that is what will happen?" Valjean asked.

"I was told, by an expert, that...That I won't be alone," Éponine said. "I will stay, but I won't be by myself. But if I'm with Courfeyrac...Then...If that's what happens, Enjolras would tell me, surely..." Her eyebrows knitted together and she thought to herself for a few moments before continuing. "Unless it's...I don't think that he would hurt me. Everyone says that he won't hurt me intentionally, but...I don't think he will. My gut is telling me that he won't. Maybe I'm being naïve..." Éponine felt that ache in her throat again and looked away from Valjean. "I'd love to know what it is."

"Could it be..." Valjean stopped, and when she looked at him, there was a thoughtful expression on his face. "Could it be that Enjolras has feelings for you, too?"

"I...He says not," Éponine said. "But – I know liars, remember."

"Maybe that's the root of it then," Valjean suggested. "Maybe you're reading too much into it with your worries. There's a lot of possibilities here, no?"

"I just want the truth," Éponine said.

"I know." The two words came out as a sigh, a puff of breath. "Give him a few days. Then ask again."

"Would that work?" Éponine wondered.

"It doesn't hurt to try," Valjean replied. "Now, would you like another drink?"

Éponine nodded, and Valjean stood and retrieved her empty glass, refilling it from the bottle sat on a dresser. He handed it back to her.

"Try not to worry too much about it," he advised. "I'm sure that it will sort itself out soon enough, just you wait and see."

Éponine tried to smile, and took a sip from the glass, unconvinced.

OOO

She left Valjean's after two more drinks, drinks that went down just as easy as the first two. She realised that the sky outside was turning from milky green to navy blue, and that their version of daylight was fading away. So she gathered her shawl about her once more and said she was going home.

Valjean saw her to the door. "Please, do not forget what I said," he said. "Talk to him again, after a few days, and in the meantime try not to worry yourself too much. Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, monsieur, for talking to me today," she said in response, and turned to walk down the stairs.

"Éponine?" Courfeyrac called up to them. He was stood in the street below, one hand cupped around his mouth. His eyebrows rose expectantly when she turned to look at him.

"I see you have someone to walk you home," Valjean said, a small smile playing on his mouth. "Good night, Éponine." He raised one hand to Courfeyrac and then slipped back inside his apartment, the door closing with a soft click.

Éponine made her way down the stairs. Courfeyrac was right at the bottom of them by the time she reached street level. He held out one arm to her, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Were you and Monsieur Valjean discussing books?" Courfeyrac guessed.

"Something like that," Éponine said. "And what were you doing?" she said, not wanting to reveal what they had talked about.

"I was walking home," Courfeyrac said. "Would you care to join me? I'm sure you'd be welcome..."

She thought of Enjolras' broken voice again and shook her head. "I'd best get home to Inès and Gavroche," she said. "I've not been home all day."

"Well, if you're sure," he said. He looked a little bit disappointed, but then smiled at her. "I will walk you home then."

She returned his smile, and leaned into him slightly, giving his arm a squeeze. With a small sigh she tipped her head to one side and rested it against his shoulder. If Courfeyrac thought this to be a strange gesture, he did not comment, but instead brought his other hand up to rest over hers where it sat touching his arm.

After a few moments, she lifted her head, sucked in a deep breath, and said, "There's something I need to tell you."

And Courfeyrac, without saying a word, stopped walking and guided them over to sit on a stone bench that was sat in front of somebody's house.

"Is it serious?" he asked, watching her face.

Éponine lowered her eyes, and explained.