Sorry! I had best friends' birthdays and results day and all sorts... this is a LONG one though, so hopefully it makes up for it? I'll also reply to all your messages as soon as I can, I really appreciate them all, I've just been so busy! It's been crazy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. I can only dream. (a dream in time gone byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Sorry, it's 4 am and I need sleep.)

She had to get out. She knew full well she couldn't go far, but that wasn't going to stop her trying. She'd gotten pretty far on the night she got beaten up, this should be a piece of cake compared to that, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Going downstairs was definitely the main issue; the extreme pain that arose in her leg and ribs taught her that very quickly. Upstairs wasn't so bad though, so she went up, gripping the bannister for dear life. The stairs went around a corner and back on themselves, and she was surprised to find nothing but a large landing and the door to a fire escape directly above Enjolras and Ferre's apartment: from the size of the building she'd expected another apartment or a janitor's cupboard or something. Éponine wasn't sure what to do next, but there was no sign of an alarm on the door or anything, so she opened it and hobbled through. She sat on the top step, screwing her nose up at the cold feeling of the metal on her legs and back.

On the way out of the apartment she'd thought she might cry, but once she was there, she found that the tears just never came. Éponine wasn't a crier as a rule. She'd learned long ago that nobody would come and look after her if she did, so what was the point? She'd probably cried more in the last week than she had in the last ten years of her life.

Éponine just gazed at her feet, feeling empty, depressed and numb all at the same time. Somehow, Marius' visit to the apartment today had hammered home just how little he cared about her. Until this point, she'd always been able to defend him ('he was concentrating on something else' 'I was trying to hide those bruises anyway!') but today, even she couldn't excuse his behaviour.

She should have been angry, but she was just numb. But that was ok. Numb, she was used to. She could cope with numb.

So she stayed on the fire escape, hugging herself and looking at her feet. Numb.

It didn't take long for Enjolras to start to worry. He understood that she needed her space; he was the same when he was angry and sad, but a person in her condition shouldn't be wandering around. She couldn't have got that far anyway, not with that leg and those ribs.

Why was he worried, anyway? She'd made it pretty clear she wanted to be alone. He didn't have to look after her. He wasn't even her friend, really. After the incident in the bathroom earlier, he couldn't even look her in the eye. He should just stay put and do some work.

But her LEG.

He argued with himself for about ten minutes, and then sighed in frustration and stood up. Grabbing his keys, he marched out of the apartment and looked around, realising he had absolutely no idea where she was.

Brilliant.

Well there's only the fire escape upstairs, so she'll have gone down. He searched the floor below: in the janitor's cupboard, under the stairwell, by the mailboxes, but Éponine was nowhere to be seen.

She wouldn't have gone outside, would she? She was only wearing a pair of Grantaire's shorts and a vest top: no jumper or shoes. He walked into the street to be sure, but couldn't see her. The only place he hadn't tried was upstairs.

If she's not up here, I'm going back to my room, and I'm forgetting about it. She obviously doesn't want to be found. He walked up both flights of stairs to find the door to the fire escape slightly ajar. Got you.

He walked outside and sat down beside her, startling her out of her reverie. She looked over to see who it was, then returned to staring in front of her, so he did the same. Neither of them said anything for a while, until Enjolras broke the silence.

'I told you he was an idiot.'

In other circumstances, she might have put up a fight, or even laughed, but not today. Today, she didn't say anything.

He tried again. 'Pontmercy isn't even that great. He hardly notices anything but himself, so don't feel angry, or sad, or… whatever. Also, it is preposterous of him to ask you to meet this girl. No-one will look down on you if you don't, you know.'

Enjolras was not only saying all of this because it was true (in his opinion, which was basically the same as fact, as far as he was concerned) but also because Éponine was scaring him. He'd seen her in many situations, many moods. He'd seen her angry, he'd seen her happy, he'd seen her drunk, he'd seen her trying to pretend she didn't care. She was a good actress; her mask of indifference was almost as good as his. But she wasn't THIS good. She'd never managed to make herself look completely empty inside; her eyes always gave her feelings away. And calling Pontmercy an idiot always, always got a reaction.

Nothing. What should he say, or do? He really wasn't good at this. At all.

'I don't know what I can say to make it better. I know you must be furious –'
'nope.' Oh thank God, she spoke. Even if it was a dull and monosyllabic, it was a word.
'You're not angry?'
'nope.'
'it's ok if you are, you know.'
Her voice rose, from a deep, depressed monotone to a more passionate tone. 'I know it's ok. But I'm not. I should be. He didn't even try to find out if I was all right after I nearly got myself killed to protect him and his little girlfriend. He STILL hasn't noticed that I'm desperately in love with him. And to top it all off, he wants me to get to know this bitch. I already know her. Better than Marius. But he doesn't care.'
'You know her?' That's probably not what I should have got from that.
'We grew up together, before things went really bad for my family. We lived in Montfermeil, we had a house.'
'Is she your sister or something? The one you don't talk to?'
'No, that's Azelma. Cosette's Ma was on her own, and needed to work away for money, so my parents took Cosette. Her Ma sent money all the time – never much, but as much as she could, I think. Anyway, my parents treated Cosette like a slave, and so did me and 'Zelma. We were horrible to her. She did all the cleaning and washing – we had a bigger inn then, more people – and wasn't allowed to play with us or our toys. I feel really bad about it now, obviously. She probably hates me.'
'How come she left? Did your parents throw her out?'
'No, she left when we were like 7 or 8… her Ma died. This guy came and claimed her, paid the old man a load of money for her, and left. After that, everything went downhill – the inn started losing money, my parents started fighting… and I had to do what Cosette did. And more, in time. Look what's become of me. Think I got my bad karma back in the end.'
'Sounds to me like you didn't know any better.'
'It's no excuse for how we treated her. If she hadn't got out… she's not as tough as me. I don't think she'd have coped, if we lost everything.'
'With the worse conditions?'
'Yeah. And the… jobs.'
Surely not. She wasn't. Was she? I can't ask that. 'Hey Éponine, funny question: are you a prostitute?'
'…jobs?'
'I did what I had to. Gavroche came along when I was ten or eleven and I had to look after him. We had to survive.'
'You were a… lady of the night'
'yep.'
'Oh, Éponine, I'm so sorry.'
'It's not your fault, is it? And don't pity me. I don't want pity.'
'I wouldn't dream of it.'
'And don't tell anybody. I don't know why I've told you. I've never told anybody else.'
This surprised him. 'Not even Grantaire?'
'Nope. R's never judged me or pitied me before but… I think this story is a step too far. Also it doesn't matter. It's done.'
'How long did it go on for?'
'The last time was the night before I left the inn.'
He'd known her then. He hadn't expected that. That meant it had continued for… almost ten years. That meant he hadn't noticed. That meant none of them had noticed.
'Jesus, Éponine. I didn't know.'
'No shit, I did try and hide it.'

They fell silent again. He didn't know what to say. This, right here, was why he was fighting for equality. The planning that Les Amis did every day was to work out a way to make it so that nobody ever has to go through what Éponine went through. Because nobody deserves that. And definitely not Éponine. The thought made him angry and sick to his stomach.

She surprised him by suddenly mumbling 'I'm sorry.'
'What for?'
'Dumping all of this on you. You don't want to hear all this. It's just my whining. You don't even like me.'
You must be kidding. 'I thought we had a truce?'
'You abandoned me in the bath.' He flushed a deep scarlet at the memory, and she smirked, bringing out her dimples. 'I'm not mad at you, you know. You're not the first guy to touch my boob. By a long shot.'
'I-I-I just… I….' he cleared his throat. HOW IS SHE SO CALM ABOUT THIS, THERE WAS ACTUAL TOUCHING OF BREAST. I FELT IT SQUISH. 'I'm sorry. For the… touching and for leaving you. I was just…'
'Embarrassed.' She sounded amused now.
'Yes.'
'It's ok. But climbing and crawling out of that bath was one of the most uncomfortable and painful experiences of my life, so for next time, an awkward, post-boob grab conversation is preferable to that.'
'Next time?!'
She laughed. 'You know what I mean.'
He did. But he liked that she had laughed. It was a nice sound. Hang on… had he cheered her up? HIM?! I should put this on my CV: 'good at cheering people up. It surprised me too.''

'I guess it's just hit me that he really doesn't give a shit about me. He doesn't even notice me. He'll never love me.'
Never mind. No updating the CV for now.
'He's an idiot.'
'Don't be mean, dickhead.'
'WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HIM?' he burst out, exasperated.
'I DON'T KNOW HE IS AN IDIOT AND I KNOW HE IS BUT I LOVE HIM!'
LOVE?! Wow. Without thinking, he just asked 'God, WHY?'
Silence. He kicked himself for asking the wrong thing and freaking her out, when she'd opened up and DAMMIT ENJOLRAS WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE PEOPLE HATE YOU.
'He was the first person to treat me like a human being. He was nice and kind and handsome, and he offered to buy me a drink and said he liked my t-shirt and… he was NORMAL. I'd never had that before. I fell straight away and I haven't looked back.'
'So it could have been anyone? If they were nice to you first? It could have been… Grantaire, or Courfeyrac. Or Combeferre.'
'I suppose… I've never thought about it. It's always been Marius.'
And that's why love is stupid and pointless. It's illogical and blind. Thank God I've got nothing to do with it. 'It doesn't always have to be. And meeting Cosette for coffee won't make it easier.'
'No.' Her voice lowered again, almost to a whisper. 'But it'll help him.'

As stupid as he thought love was – and he did – he had to admire her strength. She was meeting the girlfriend of the man who she considered the love of her life, who she just happened to grow up with in the worst conditions going. All to make HIM happy. Knowing full well what it would do to her. He really didn't know what to say.

'It'll help him.' That's why she was doing it. That was enough. It would make Marius happy, so she would do it.

Wait, why was she being so open with Enjolras? They weren't even friends.

Then again, he did save her life. Did she ever thank him for that?

Clearing her throat, she said 'thank you, by the way.'
He looked confused. 'What for?'
'For finding me. And looking after me. And letting me stay here. And coming up here to talk to me on this fire escape. I owe you a lot, but I don't thank you. So thanks.'
'It's fine'
'It's not. I'll repay you one day, I promise.'
'Really, it is. This is why I fight and plan and give speeches and study. For you and people like you. You've been through so much more than you should have – how old are you?'
'19 but –'
'You're still a teenager and you've suffered more than most people ever will and it's not fair, or your fault and NO ONE is helping you. I don't understand and I HAVE to fix it. I can't stand by.' He paused. 'Plus Ferre and Joly did most of the looking after.'

She was stunned. He was a great public speaker, but even just talking to her, he had passion and fire and flair and she almost believed him. He really cared about changing things. This guy was going far. I think I have a future Prime Minister on the fire escape with me.
 'You're a really great man, Enjolras. You're really going to go places.'
He looked surprised. 'Thank you.'
'I mean it. I've never gone along with this stuff but with you, I can almost believe it.'
'Almost?!' Oops. Wrong thing to say. Change the subject, quick.
'Thank you for coming and sitting with me today… why is there a fire escape on a three-storey building? And why is one of the storeys nothing but fire escape?'
'I'm not sure. It doesn't make a lot of sense.'
'Well, this is a nice fire escape. As fire escapes go.'
'I like it.'
'Me too.' She stood up: slowly and stiffly, but purposefully. 'I really need the loo though, and I'm definitely not looking forward to these stairs. Downstairs is difficult.'
He sprung up. 'Here, I'll help'
'I can manage.'
'Shut up and let me help you.' Wow. OK. He picked her up like he had that night on Rue Plumet. Éponine wrapped her arm around his neck, his curls tickling her arm, and she looked at him. Really looked at him. Every time she thought she understood this guy, he went and did something like this. Cheer her up. Rescue her. Carry her downstairs.

Weird.

Nice, though.

He finished his little speech about equality and fighting for her and people like her, then immediately felt stupid, which was unusual. He didn't usually perform for crowds of one, though. He looked over at her and was startled to find some of that fire in her eyes - not a lot, but a definite spark. A twinkle. Like the stars, or the Sun. And she had the weirdest expression on her face.

She had the same expression later, when he told her to shut up and picked her up to go downstairs. Her arm was brushing the curls on the back of his neck and he had to try really hard to ignore it because it felt really, really good.

For crying out loud, Enjolras. I know it's been a while, but… pull yourself together.

He placed her down gently in the living room of their apartment and they went their separate ways for the evening – he headed to his room to work, she went straight to the toilet then the fridge. Neither of them spoke of what they had shared on the fire escape, but both thought about it. And their opinions of each other would never be the same again.

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