A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and support, everyone!

Thanks especially to Hiyas for an idea concerning this chapter

Chapter 19: A Child Lost and Found

Eponine knows better than to believe that any sort of languor will soon overtake her life after this storm; if ever, the days only speed up and seem to become more frenetic. 'There is no time like lunch to see to personal business,' she tells herself as she unties the heavy operating room gown she has pulled over her scrubs. "I'll leave closing him up to you guys," she tells the first-year residents still standing around the operating room table. "If there are any problems, please call me. Don't wait for rounds."

"Aye, aye, Doc E," the youngest of this group says, making a salute. "Do you have any more operations lined up for today?"

"That depends if someone decides to eat noodles while on duty," Eponine quips as she removes her gloves and tosses them into a yellow-lined waste bin. It's a hospital superstition passed down from one batch of trainees to another, but in the end it does little more than instil an irrational aversion to spaghetti and canned soup as dinner options. 'Then they wonder why we're always out of rice and bread at the cafeteria,' she muses as she leaves the OR complex in order to freshen up and then hurry downstairs to the obstetrics clinic for her check-up with Musichetta.

She finds Enjolras already in the now quiet waiting area, busily reading an article on his phone. Even though it has to be about 30 degrees outside, he still manages to look sharp in his long-sleeved shirt and tie, and the effect has Eponine turning a little red as she sits next to him. Yet she can see that his brow is furrowed and his jaw is set, and although this expression isn't new at all to her, it's one she's seen him wear too often in the past two weeks or so. She sighs and nudges his shin with her shoe. "Have you had lunch yet?"

Enjolras nods distractedly before pocketing his phone. "I got you something," he says, handing over a long, foil-wrapped sandwich as well as a bottle of water. "Musichetta still has another patient, but you're next in line."

"Right," Eponine mumbles as she unwraps one end of the sandwich and takes a big bite. She can't help but smile on tasting grilled chicken, beans, and cheesy pesto, one of her favourite combinations. As she's eating she quietly watches Enjolras as he checks his watch and then begins looking through his briefcase for some paper. After a few minutes of this she nudges him again. "You're not at work now."

"I have a hearing after this," he replies more tersely than he would usually with her. "There are some things I should have gone over again last night."

"Seriously? I don't even remember you coming to bed," she says. She rolls her eyes when he merely raises an eyebrow and gets back to his reading. She's seen this stubbornness before, particularly in the days when he was proving that he was not incapacitated by the attempt on his life more than a year and a half ago. 'This time you don't need this,' she wants to tell him, if only she could hold his attention long enough. The turmoil in his mind owing to their casework and the recent falling out with his father is not something her scalpel can fix.

It is just as well that Musichetta soon makes her appearance, chatting away with a patient as she hands over a slip for a subsequent appointment. She smiles when she catches sight of her friends. "Are you two ready?" she asks cheerily.

Eponine takes a huge gulp of water and grins. "Let's do this." The excitement and trepidation makes her feel as if her heart is crashing against her ribcage; it's always this way whenever she has a check-up, but this time she knows her friend is going to do another sonogram.

Enjolras puts away his paperwork. "Aside from an ultrasound, will there be other tests?"

"That will be it, unless something is wrong-heaven forbid," Musichetta replies as they enter the examination room. "Don't worry yourself sick about that; it's contagious. Joly would tell you so too."

"There, you heard her," Eponine chides as she lies down on the examination table and pulls up her scrub top. "Do I get to hold the tape measure?" she asks Musichetta.

"You remember the drill," Musichetta quips as she tosses the retractable tape measure to Eponine, all the while keeping a grip on one end. She lines up the tape measure along Eponine's abdomen and feels for a point just near her navel. "Eighteen centimetres. Just about as big as it should be at this point."

Eponine feels Enjolras squeeze her other hand. "I keep telling you it's going to be okay," she reassures him as she cranes her neck so she can meet his eyes. "Stop fretting."

"It's just more reassuring to actually see what's going on," he points out, now actually smiling as he pulls a stray strand of hair away from her face. "He or she is going to get bigger and we get to watch some of that happening."

"That's the fun part," Eponine says as she catches his hand, linking her pinkie around his as she lets Musichetta finish the rest of the physical examination. Even though she's familiar with the steps thanks to her basic medical training, it all feels different now that she's a mother-to-be. 'This is the stuff they don't always talk about in medical school,' she realizes as she watches Musichetta prepare the ultrasound machine.

"Here we go guys," Musichetta says as she puts some gel on the ultrasound probe, which she places on Eponine's stomach. She angles the probe a little bit till the fuzzy image on the monitor becomes clear. "There it is...and in mid somersault too!"

Eponine's jaw drops as she finally sees the baby twisting and kicking. She taps her stomach lightly and giggles when she sees the baby move in the general direction of her hand. "Wow. Did you see that?" she asks Enjolras, whose eyes are now wide with sheer amazement.

Enjolras nods as he moves to get a better look at the monitor. "Does the baby recognize voices yet?"

"Give the kid a few more weeks to actually respond. Have you felt the baby move yet?" Musichetta says, directing the last question to Eponine.

Eponine shakes her head. "I probably won't for another two weeks or so, if I recall."

"He or she might surprise you," Musichetta replies as she continues to move the probe around and make some measurements. "Do you guys want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Yes please. We're tired of using two pronouns all the time," Eponine says. She looks more intently at the ultrasound monitor, wondering if she too can make a guess, but the baby is moving about too quickly for her to get a good look. "What do you think?"

Musichetta doesn't say anything as she presses on Eponine's stomach. She laughs after a while. "Brace yourselves you two. It's a boy."

The very words have Eponine swiping at her eyes thanks to the tears welling up, more so when she looks back at the monitor. 'Soon he's going to be in my arms, and he's going to be the most beautiful baby ever,' she realizes. She turns to see Enjolras silently staring at the screen too, but only this time his smile has faded into a far more pensive expression. "Auguste, are you okay?" she asks.

He nods as he pats her hand. "I'm just thinking."

"Don't overdo it," she points out. 'Is he happy about this?' she can't help but wonder as she watches him for a moment longer before she wipes off the gel from her stomach and sits up. Enjolras' stoicism would not be unnerving if not for the disquiet of the past few weeks. 'He'd better not be second-guessing this,' she thinks as she pulls down her top. "Chetta, is everything good?" she asks her friend.

"Excellent. I'll just type up the official report and print the sonogram, so give me a few minutes. You guys can wait outside," Musichetta says with a reassuring smile before going into the next room.

The ensuing silence is more than Eponine can take, especially now that she's alone with Enjolras and he's getting lost in his thoughts again. "What do you think?" she asks.

He gives her a sidelong glance. "What reaction were you expecting?"

"Something, anything," she insists. "It's as if you were mentally absent for a bit there."

"Of course not," he retorts. "What gave you that idea?"

"I just thought you'd be happy or at least appreciate that we got to see our kid," she snaps. "I know you've been busy but I thought it would mean something to you if we could both be here instead of my just walking down alone when I've got a break from work."

"It does mean something. I wouldn't be here otherwise," he replies quickly.

"Then why aren't you saying anything?" she asks, nearly flinching at the pleading tone she can hear in her voice. Naturally she knows that he will not do something extreme such as jump up and down at this good news, but his being impassive in this moment is something she certainly did not expect. "We're having a son, and you can't keep shutting me or him out when you're busy."

"It's not that. It was never about that," Enjolras answers harshly. He checks his watch and grits his teeth. "I have to be at the hearing in a few minutes. We'll talk later."

Eponine shakes her head. "Just go." There is no use continuing this discussion and spoiling the afternoon further. She walks out ahead of him and over to where Musichetta is still at work. "I will just get that result later. Thanks much," she says.

Musichetta looks up from her computer with a worried light in her eyes. "Is everything alright?"

Eponine merely shrugs. "We'll deal." She pauses when she feels Enjolras touch her shoulder wordlessly on the way out the door. He may be distant today but he's not completely lost, and it heartens her somewhat. "Are we still on for girls' day in tomorrow?" she asks Musichetta.

Musichetta nods. "I need it. I love my boys, really, but sometimes I could do with less talk of papers and diseases,' she says. "I'm sure you understand."

"I got it. The diner tomorrow. No boys, no work, and no kids as much as possible," Eponine concurs. This little break for sanity's sake is not something she ever thought that she would need in her line of work, but it's absolutely necessary for her, for her sister, as well as their friends. 'If only to keep from drowning,' she thinks. "Thanks again for everything."

"If you need to talk, I'm just down the hall," Musichetta offers in a more chipper tone. "Or are you planning to go to the halfway house today?"

"That too," Eponine says a little more easily. As trying as her work there can be, it usually buoys her spirits. Perhaps, she decides, it's a sort of undoing of her own past, or at least making sense of it.

This thread of thought stays even as she's sorting out papers and making phone calls in her office, just an hour before she has to be at the halfway house. As she puts down the receiver at the end of a rather trying discussion she hears a knock on the door. "Come in," she calls.

Marguerite does not need to be asked twice before she sashays into the room, one arm around a pile of folders. "How are you doing?" she greets warmly. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Eponine says. She wonders if it will still be as easy to take this sort of compliment in a month or two. "What are you doing here?"

"I have some new names for the watch list. I'm sure you'd like to take a look," Marguerite says. "Some of these names were given by the kids we've already tracked and placed in homes and situations, while others were already tagged in other precincts."

"Many new names, and none narrowed down," Eponine muses as she pulls up a chair for her guest. She can only imagine how convoluted the bulletin board in the law office must look by now. "Can't we close some of our leads?"

"Oh, if it were as easy as that!" Marguerite laughs, theatrically snapping her fingers. "They mostly know each other, and it's just as well to keep our eyes on all of them."

"How do you know when to stop?"

"When we've figured out who's bringing all these kids in, then we can close the doors in the corridor."

Eponine bites her lip as she looks at the two long lists before her. One list is that of people who've been smuggled past the guards on the ferries and roadways, another is a list of the agents responsible for this illicit entry. "Some are behind bars, others are standing trial, and the rest-"she asks as she points to a row of pictures of a group of armed men perched atop a lorry.

"Those are on the run," Marguerite replies, the pout in her mouth thinning to a more rueful line. "Anyone who sees those men has to move quickly. They are in the business of snatching."

Eponine shudders, already guessing what their interest must be. "Have you seen them yourself?"

"Not me. One of our friends, Tony Dewhurst, has. Percy had to bring him to a hospital after," Marguerite explains. Her lips curl as she ponders the photo. "Yvonne hasn't forgiven us for that yet," she whispers.

"Who's Yvonne?" Eponine asks.

"Tony's wife. A brave girl-and I don't blame her for being angry," Marguerite replies as she pushes the photo away. "Men like that are ruthless."

"Would you know?" Eponine asks pointedly. She can guess there is a reason that Marguerite, Percy, and their team are relentless in their work for these forgotten immigrants.

Marguerite smiles knowingly. "Armand and I first came to this city when we were children. I was thirteen, he was fourteen. Our parents sent us to safety-there was a problem with the local warlord-but it didn't quite end that way," she explains. "We were almost taken too, but this inspector-his name was Javert, showed up."

"I know Javert," Eponine remarks. She can think back on this inspector now without rancour, after the events of last year. "So he got you and Armand out?"

"Yes, and he sent for our parents. That was how they got to the city too," Marguerite finishes. She smiles with a pained nostalgia. "Papa died when I graduated from high school, Mama a year after. Armand couldn't bear living at our apartment, so we moved on campus."

"Which was how you ended up neighbours with Musichetta and the guys," Eponine finishes.

Marguerite's laugh is melodious as she nods gleefully. "We were young. I was not even nineteen when I met, or actually tripped on Percy. I'd been dancing on stage for a play, he was in the audience."

"Oh no."

"The most awkward story. How did you meet Enjolras anyway?"

Eponine snorts. "I treated him when he got shot."

"You and not Combeferre?" Marguerite asks.

"We had a lot of cases that day, and besides Combeferre personally asked me to take care of his friend," Eponine explains. As harrowing as that afternoon had been, she cannot regret a second of it. "Best call he made that day, if you ask me."

"I'm sure," Marguerite says. "The files are for you. Percy and I have copies at home."

"Marguerite, wait," Eponine blurts out as Marguerite gets to her feet. "Are you doing anything tomorrow? Cosette-that's Mrs. Pontmercy, is inviting us for a get together at a riverside cafe—it's not difficult to find. She told me to ask you since she's not sure how to get in contact with you specifically."

Marguerite smiles amusedly. "What's this, a girls' day out?"

"No work, no boys, and as much as possible no kids."

"It sounds like a lark. I'll be there."

Eponine sends the details of the get-together over to Marguerite's cell phone before bidding her friend goodbye for now. 'Marguerite was lucky to still have a home at the end of all that trouble,' she can't help thinking as she prepares the things she will need for her trip to the halfway house. All the same she can only wonder what horrors Marguerite has witnessed that have now prompted her to her own crusade. Perhaps Percy has seen some of these things too.

There's no time for Eponine to dwell on this though while she's at work in the halfway house. Apart from the usual chaos with the girls' shenanigans versus Cecily and Mother Asuncion's short tempers, there are some newcomers to the institution who are in dire need of wound care and cold medicine. It's past eight in the evening by the time she can make her way home, and nearly ten when she steps into her quiet apartment. 'Auguste's meetings probably got extended,' she thinks even as she leaves him a voicemail just to let him know she's made it home safely. After making a light dinner and leaving about half of it for Enjolras to eat whenever he gets home, she decides to call it a night a little earlier than usual. It's been a long day after all.

She wakes to the familiar sensation of the mattress dipping on the other side of the bed, and soon she feels Enjolras' arms around her as he pulls her close as he can even with the swell of her belly. One of his hands comes to rest on her midsection, but before she can touch his fingers she feels him take a deep breath, as if trying to collect his thoughts. "Hello son. It's me, your Dad. I guess that your Mommy and I have to decide on a name for you very soon," Enjolras says softly. "I don't know if you really can hear me, but I think you can get the gist of this somehow."

The very words have Eponine in stunned disbelief. She has never, ever imagined that Enjolras would actually try to talk to their unborn child, at least at this early point. 'If anyone else saw him do this, it would be blackmail material,' she can't help thinking a little mischievously, but all the same she lies very still just so she can hear what he has to say.

"I didn't say it earlier today but I was really happy to see you-and honestly, I didn't know what to do or say," Enjolras continues. "You're still so small, and it's going to be my job to take care of you and protect you. It's why I keep at my work, so you won't have to grow up seeing all the terrible things your Mommy and I grew up with. You can say what you want, believe what you want to believe and you won't get punished or taken to jail for that. You can always trust that both of us will come home to you safely, each night. I want you to have that, and so much more."

He swallows hard before speaking again. "The truth is that I don't know how to be a father. All I can promise is that I'll never tell you the things I heard when I was a kid. I'll never try to send you away because you're getting into things or because I don't agree with something. I'll never make you feel like you have to earn anything from me. I'll never call you worthless, a mistake, or wish you weren't my child. I know I'll always be proud of you, and happy that you're in this world. You're one of the things in my life that's worth everything, and I promise I'll let you know that."

Eponine can no longer stop the hot tears in her eyes, or the sob that leaves her throat as she buries her face in his neck. She feels him start at the sudden motion but she hugs him tightly, willing this to be a shield enough for him from his memories. "We'll do better, I promise," she whispers.

Enjolras lets out a ragged breath before kissing the top of her head. "Did I wake you up?"

She shakes her head before pulling away just so she can turn on the bedside light. She runs her hand through his tousled curls and then leans in to give him a kiss. "You already love our son. That's going to make a world of difference."

A slight smile tugs at his lips as he begins playing with the ends of her hair. "Is that going to be enough?"

"Maybe. You're not doing this alone."

"I'm sorry about today. I can imagine it was frustrating."

"It was awful of you, but I still understand." She catches his hand and squeezes it tightly, by way of apology and forgiveness. "You'll be okay. We'll be okay."

"You sound so certain."

"Only with you."

Enjolras nods before returning her kiss. "Thank you."

Eponine smiles, now that she can see some calm returning to his countenance. "I know you said we'd talk, but it's really late. Tomorrow then?"

"More like later. It's past midnight," he points out with a yawn. "For one thing, our son doesn't have a name yet."

She laughs as she tousles his hair. "Dream about it a little longer. We'll talk about this over breakfast."

"I think it will take more than one discussion to properly settle the matter," he says as he holds back another yawn. "Good night, Eponine."

"Good night Auguste." She pulls him as close as she can and smiles at the feel of his heartbeat almost in time with hers. In the middle of this storm, it's more than she can ask for.