As promised, plot development! (IKRT, in this story?! Whaaaat!?) It's not the one I intended, that's next chapter, but I just kind of ran with this idea when I thought of it. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Pfft still no.
Every single one of Éponine's friends was busy on the fifteenth of November. She and the girls (Cosette, Chetta, Sylvie and Sylvie's sister, who was to be the maid of honour) were going shopping for their bridesmaid's dresses, while Gavroche and Les Amis were running a protest against changes to the justice system on a busy Saint-Michel street, which was, unusually, going to be attended by all the men – normally at least one was at work.
Everyone had stayed at their apartment the night before, to plan and prepare. Despite their very early morning start, Éponine was already awake and wished them luck as they went. They all knew there was potential for trouble with this protest, as they were staging it in a notorious area for gangs – Éponine knew it well – and a large crowd would be too much for any thief or conman worth his salt to resist. They were taking the risk as the busy streets would also draw in more support and be more effective in getting their message across.
She gave Gavroche a big, squeezing hug and spoke to all the lads as they piled out the door, hands full of banners and speeches and snacks. Little Gav promised to look out for any sign of their parents, the Patron-Minette or Azelma, but told her he'd probably be too busy being a hero to see anything. In his typical optimistic, joking way, Courfeyrac laughed as she told him to be careful. 'I'd rather be in my position than yours today, Pony… enjoy dress shopping. Don't kill anyone, even if they make you wear pink!'
She scowled at him, but couldn't supress the smile that played at the corners of her mouth.
Enjolras was the last out the door, his curls wild around his determined face, a bright red hooded top under his dark green bomber jacket. He was going to walk out with just a nod to her, but she grabbed his arm as he passed her, so he turned around and met her piercing gaze.
'Look after Gavroche.' Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. 'For me.'
He held her gaze for a while then nodded. They stood there, just staring at each other, neither of them speaking, until Éponine broke the eye contact to look at his jacket.
'You look better without that.' She said quietly.
Enjolras was confused, and whispered 'what?'
Éponine rolled her eyes at him, and then pushed the jacket off his shoulders. He let her take it off completely, watching her face closely for some sort of clue as to what was going on, but it never came and he was left thoroughly confused.
Éponine blushed a bit at his gaze, and then said 'The red. It's more memorable… anyway, good luck.'
And with that she turned away to go into the kitchen without another word.
She'd thought Courfeyrac was joking earlier, but now she wasn't so sure. After what seemed like days of trying on hundreds of dresses, of all shapes and sizes and colours and styles, she was exhausted, and really just hoped Sylvie would pick one soon, as she wanted to go home and see the guys. It must be nearly night-time now, right?
She checked her watch: half past one. I swear to God time is going backwards. This is hell.
Sylvie's sister, who was called Grace, also turned out to not be nearly as nice as Sylvie herself. She barely spoke to any of them except Sylvie, except to criticize: Musichetta was told she needed to lose weight or risk being the fat bridesmaid, Cosette was told she was too pale and needed a spray-tan and some 'decent' makeup, and Éponine was ignored completely until a short, tight dress revealed the strapping on her legs and ribs, which would 'have to go. This is a wedding. You'll look like some sort of tramp'. Sylvie looked mortified, but both Musichetta and Éponine were very good, biting back their angry retorts. Cosette, being Cosette, just agreed with what Grace said, even claiming she would be overshadowed by the other beautiful bridesmaids anyway. God damn, you are too NICE, Cosette.
In desperate need of a moment's peace, Éponine was pretending to look through a rail of dresses at the other end of the shop to the others, when she heard a screech from directly behind her which caused her to jump almost a foot in the air.
'Sylvie! Here! It's perfect!' It was Grace, who barged past her to hold up the dress that Éponine had just been pretending to look at. The others hurried over to look, as Éponine supressed a groan.
It was pink. Not just pink: hot pink. Bright pink. It had a halter neck and a bow fastening on the back, and looked as though it would fall to around knee-length. The dress was beautiful, but PINK?! Courf and Gav were going to die laughing if they saw her in this.
Unfortunately for her, none of the other girls seemed to agree with her feelings on the pink dress – even Musichetta, who was normally on her side because it clashed with her hair, was cooing over it. Within minutes, dresses were brought out in their sizes, and Éponine was pushed into a changing room and told to put it on.
Once it was on, even she had to admit it looked pretty good. It hugged her tiny waist, showing off the slight curves that she had developed over the past few months. She even looked taller in it. Sylvie peeped past the curtain and squeaked, pulling her out into the corridor where all the bridesmaids were congregated, looking radiant. Damn it. She's going to pick this one, isn't she?
'I think we might have found it!' beamed Sylvie.
Ah, fuck.
Enjolras was on fire. His speech had been met with an uproarious cheer, and Courfeyrac's was going just as well now, with the huge crowd – far bigger than expected, there must be 250 people out there – all engaged in what they were saying and shouting approval. It really felt like they were getting somewhere, this could really make a change!
He was stood on the side of the makeshift stage (wooden crates piled up) with Combeferre, Marius and Joly, while many of the other Amis were in the crowd, talking to people. One of these was Grantaire, who had Gavroche was on his shoulders, shouting along and pumping everyone up: what a little showman that kid was! Enjolras turned to point this out to Ferre and Joly, but when they looked again, Gavroche was nowhere to be seen.
Oh well, he'd explain later. For now, there was protesting to be done!
He'd know that guy anywhere.
From his position as King of the Castle, on R's shoulders, he could see everyone. Men. Women. Children. His buddies from the elephant were all there – even Jacques and the 'baby', Georges, a bright-eyed little blonde orphan, who was only 4, were in the crowded street. Then again, that was probably just so they could nick stuff out of people's pockets.
But this guy… this guy caught his eye. He demanded to be noticed, from the stylish clothes he wore, to the artistically tousled dirty blonde hair, and the way he held himself. He was leaning casually against a wall at the side, watching the protest calmly, apparently searching the stage for someone. To Gav's relief, the man didn't seem to have noticed him yet.
He frantically hit Grantaire's head, shouting 'GRANT!' The young man picked him up and placed him down in front of him, shouting 'WHAT'S WRONG, 'VROCHE?' into his ear.
'HAV YA GOT YA PHONE ON YA?'
'YEAH, WHY?'
'TEXT ÉP! TELL 'ER SOMMAT'S WRONG AND SHE NEEDS TO GET HOME!'
'WHAT'S HAPPENING, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?'
'COURSE! JUST TEXT HER!'
'OK… DON'T GO RUNNING OFF!' Grantaire looked worried, and pulled out his phone to text Éponine.
'I WON'T!' Lies. Gavroche immediately ran off into the crowd, ducking through legs, squeezing past people, heading for where he had last seen Jacques and Georges. He found them quickly, grabbed George's hand and pulled him into a side street which was clear of people, Jacques close behind him, grinning. 'Gavroche! We saw ya up there, ya famous!'
'Alright, alright, I need ya help'
'What's up?' squeaked Georges.
'I reckon I saw a bloke I don't wanna see, an' that's bad news, but I need t' make sure, right?'
'What's he look like?'
'We're not lookin' for 'im, we know he's 'ere, I'd know 'im anywhere. We're lookin' for Thénardier, or any of that lot, right? An' don't let 'em see ya!'
'Gotcha… meet ya back 'ere, right?'
'Yeah. Thanks lads!'
They shared a grin, and then darted out into the crowd.
Éponine was on the metro home with Chetta, Sylvie and Cosette (Grace had left them immediately after the dresses had been bought) by the time she got the text.
Pony – go home, now. Something's wrong. Rxox
She gasped and nearly dropped her phone on the floor, an action which didn't escape the eagle eye of Musichetta.
'What's wrong, Éponine?'
'It's R, he just texted saying something's wrong and to go straight home.'
Cosette said cheerfully 'that's lucky, we're going there now!' but Éponine ignored her, meeting Sylvie's worried gaze.
'What will you do?' she asked.
Éponine paused. She should go home: that's what R had said, there was clearly nothing she could do, she knew everyone would look after Gav and they could look after themselves well enough. But she wouldn't relax, and she knew it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to one of them and she could've stopped it. She had no choice, not really.
'I'm going to them, I'll get off at the next stop, where are we? I'll look after everyone, you all go back to mine, here's the keys.' She fished them out of her pocket and handed them to Sylvie. 'It's easiest to get off at Mabillon. Look after yourselves; keep the door locked and the windows shut. There's plenty of food and stuff in… can you take my dress?'
'I will' said Cosette, who sounded terrified. She handed it over, and gave her a reassuring smile.
'Everything's going to be fine. I'll see you later, ok?' The train pulled to a halt at Rue de Bac station, and Éponine moved as quickly as she could to get off the train and platform and onto the street. Once she was up there, she ran as fast as she could towards Saint-Michel, hoping everything would be fine when she got there.
Gavroche had spotted Babet and Claquesous lurking and was starting to get really worried. He looked around for Jacques but the crowd was too tall and he couldn't see anything. Fighting his way forward, he tried to reach Courfeyrac, but before he could, a shot rang out. As everybody panicked, he was lost in the sea of people, unable to get to any Amis or even see what was happening. His stomach hurt, but he didn't know why and it was making him want to cry, but he couldn't look down to see what had happened. Nobody was sparing him a glance, despite his shouting. He was trapped.
Jacques weaved through the crowds with ease, his skinny frame perfect for sneaking through. He hadn't seen Thénardier or any of that lot, so he was feeling pretty relaxed as he made his way back towards the side street. He turned for a second to check Georges was ok – the kid was only 4, after all – but couldn't see him anywhere. Ahh, piss it. He went back where he had come, moving deep into the middle of the crowd, shouting Georges' name, butbefore he could spot him, he heard a gun go off, and felt a sharp pain in his left leg. Injured and disorientated, he stumbled through the panicking, fighting crowd, bumping straight into Gueulemer - that explained a lot – before everything went black and he fell to the floor.
Georges was terrified. He couldn't see a thing, he'd lost Jacques and Gavroche, and he didn't recognise anybody. Nobody seemed to notice him, a tiny waif of a boy under all their feet. He'd seen Brujon, one of the men he was supposed to be looking for, but didn't know what to do or who to tell. He was very, very scared. All of a sudden, he heard a loud bang, and everything exploded around him.
Grantaire looked up from sending his text and swore loudly: Gavroche had disappeared. He was going to kill the little shit for running off, where the hell was he? Out of nowhere, a shot rang out near him, and the people around him went mental: people were screaming and running and fighting, and his hung-over brain could barely tell people apart as they frantically moved past him and bumped into him. Damn it, where's Gav?
'GAVROCHE?! GAV?! WHERE ARE YOU?!'
Courfeyrac could see what was going on from his vantage point on centre stage. The shot had triggered the biggest fight he'd ever seen - at least 30 men were involved and more were joining in all the time: he spotted Bahorel going wild right in the centre. People were screaming and running, shouting for the police, blind to anything in their way. He looked around for Les Amis, and could account for them all, but Gavroche… he couldn't see him.
'GAVROCHE?! GAVROCHE!' He yelled at Enjolras and Marius who were stood, flabbergasted beside him to 'HELP ME FIND HIM!' The men jumped into action, elbowing through the crowds in search of the little urchin.
'GAVROCHE?!'
longest one yet, and one of the most action-packed haha!
100 reviews guys, you did it! I am so humbled and grateful and... just thank you. Thank you for all your support, reading, reviewing, favouriting, following... you're the best. I LOVE YOU! Please keep it up, you make my day when you do!