Hellooo! This probably isn't the chapter you were expecting, but at least it's something, right?! AND bonus, I've actually written the bit you were expecting, and it'll be up tomorrow. It was originally going to be all one chapter, but these 4-5000 word chapters are just not sustainable for me - as shown by how long it's taking me to post - so I'll go for more, shorter ones I think. (Smiles1998 - 20 chapters should still work... but I didn't promise!)
Anyway, enjoy some brand-new SITR with an old-school SITR updating schedule!
Disclaimer: 'fraid not.
She was definitely mad at him. Enjolras knew that by the end of the day, even if he knew nothing else. Like why she would be angry at him, for example.
She'd come back from the shower and dressed in silence, before telling him she was going out with the boys for the day. He smiled at her and encouraged her to have a good time, and while she smiled back and her tone seemed cheery enough… he just knew she was mad at him. She never had been able to hide her feelings from him.
It wasn't unusual for her to be mad at him, of course – they still fought like dogs half the time, after all – but it was unusual for her not to tell him; not to yell it out at him in the kitchen or call him out on whatever bad decision he'd made. And it was weird that it was now, when they'd been apart for a night: what could he possibly have done to piss her off?! Better ask Combeferre later he thought, exasperated. WOMEN.
He might have worried about it more, if it wasn't for the phone call he'd received earlier. "She is in danger"… what danger? Or, perhaps a more appropriate question, what new danger? It troubled him. And who would know, and then call to warn him?
Who even knew it was him that needed warning? And how!?
He was going to be so mad if this was one of the guys winding him up.
Who meets in a graveyard, as well? He wondered as he drafted yet another letter to the papers. A quick google search had told him where Évariste Galois was buried – or more specifically, the graveyard where he was thought to be buried. Common graves were a pain in the ass. The guy looked pretty interesting, actually. He'd read up on him later, he decided.
But first: letter.
"Dear Sirs"… No, that's not right. Especially not for a letter about sexism. "Dear Sir or Madam"… no, better yet: "To whom it may concern"….
Éponine felt the irritation falling away as she fell back into the easy old role of big sister Éponine. With a delighted Gavroche and Jacques in tow, she did all the things she used to love before everything: they went up the Eiffel Tower and sat on the riverbank; they played silly games in the Jardin du Luxembourg. They climbed trees and threw things at rich people, and fed scraps to pigeons. They climbed onto the rooftops of old abandoned buildings and just chatted nonsense for a while, watching Paris go about its bustling daily life without a care in the world for three street rats lying on a rooftop and staring at the clouds. It was easy to be with the boys, and not have to be anyone's employee, or waitress, or girlfriend, or even friend; she could just be Gavroche's – and Jacques' even if not in blood - feisty big sister. She was just Éponine, and she knew her way about. Anonymous to the outside world, which she cared little for, anyway. There was freedom in it.
She realised as the day wore on how little time she'd been spending with Jacques and her little brother recently. Éponine realised how selfish she'd been with her time; with so much going on, it had been easy to just keep them busy then tuck them in at night, or send them off to Courfeyrac, or even let them just run riot for the day, and never actually spend any time with them. Now she looked, both of them had grown a few inches, and Jacques in particular was filling out; the sharp edges of his cheekbones, limbs and hips softening as he aged. They were both very much still children though, with their endless energy, boundless enthusiasm, and crazy humour that just cracked her up every time. They regaled her with a stories of a recent close escape from Inspector Javert at the bakery; of daring adventures they took off on around the city; of the first time their friend Fitz - who was a little older than them – had hit on a girl in front of them, only to be spectacularly shot down. As she doubled up with laughter and sympathy, she remembered just how much fun it was to really spend time with the boys. Not for the first time in her life, she resolved to work on her selfishness, and actually put aside some time and effort for Jacques and Gavroche.
The day wore on, and as dusk fell and she helped the boys down off the roof, nostalgia hit and she couldn't help but turn back one final time to look out over Paris. As the light faded and the birds began to roost, her heart swelled: there was no feeling like having the run of a whole city, she was sure of it. The street rat inside her had stirred again, bringing out the free-spirited youngster in her. With all they'd been through, she forgot sometimes that she was only 20 years old - and Gav and Jacques were only 10 – because it simply felt like so much longer. She wondered if she'd feel as old as she did if she'd never left the street, or even the inn.
With the thought of the inn, the twinge of nostalgia passed. Only I could find something to complain about here, she thought; after all, she had a comfortable bed and clothes that fit, a roof over her head, a job that didn't cause her physical harm – even enough to eat! And of course, she still had her boys, and had even gained a crazy group of weirdo friends… and she had Enjolras. Now that the anger had passed, and her heart was ready to move past the disappointment – she'd decided that was what it was: what girl doesn't like hearing "I love you", no matter unsure they are about how they feel? And for that then to be taken back, no, worse, forgotten about… – she could move forward. It had only been a day, but it felt like forever since she'd listened to that message. Loathe as she was to admit it to herself, she missed Enjolras' company. It was time to go back.
"Boys, I need to go to the Musain tonight, do you want to come?" she called to the two small shadows playing a floor below her on the fire escape. She didn't actually know why she bothered asking; of course they did. They always did.
"Yep!" Shocking. Stop the presses. Who'd have thought?!
"Come on then, climb down. Safely! And not too much noise, people'll see!"
"We know, we know!"
She knew they knew. But it didn't half feel good to tell them again.
"And finally, the poster campaign is going well on campus – all our sources say they're having an impact, and people are talking about them. Really talking as well – thinking about these issues in new ways. And not just about Grantaire's amazing designs." Pierre finished his update enthusiastically, flashing a brilliant smile at a clearly disinterested Grantaire, who maintained his sullen staring at the floor, apparently not even noticing that his name had been mentioned.
"That's great news!" Combeferre agreed, breaking the awkward silence and giving the obviously crestfallen Pierre something to look at other than Grantaire. "Does anyone else have anything they want to say or are we all caught up? Can we start on planning for the Rue Champollion protest on the 4th May?"
"ALRIGHT LADS?" Gavroche announced loudly as he strutted into the room, Jacques hot on his heels. The room welcomed them with cheers and wide smiles, offers of milkshakes and friendly slaps on the back. The two little lads beamed, accepting the obvious love of every member of the group with their trademark enthusiasm. It never failed to warm Enjolras' heart; two boys who had known so little love in their lives having it showered upon them.
Another cheer rang out a moment later, and he spun around in his chair to see who it was. Dark waves and a wide smile greeted him and his stomach performed its familiar flip: it was Éponine. Is she still mad at me? he wondered nervously.
"Hi guys" she grinned, moving over to take her usual seat directly opposite him, sandwiched between a surly Grantaire and a guffawing Courfeyrac. As the chaos continued around them, she met his eyes nervously. He held her gaze, unsure what else to do, his head buzzing with questions and nerves… and then she stopped it all with one simple action: she apologetically mouthed "sorry". Unable to contain the smile, he just shook his head. After all, what did she actually have to be sorry for? Being grumpy and hung-over?
Even after she broke his gaze to talk to other people, the smile remained. He sat quietly, thinking for a while.
"What did I miss?" he heard her ask Courfeyrac.
Courf rubbed his neck with his hand. "Erm… posters are the new black and everyone's still thirsting after the same people"
"Not much then?" she laughed.
"Not really."
"I didn't think I would have" she admitted "to be honest, we don't seem to be doing that much at the minute."
"I don't think anyone's really sure what we can do" Courfeyrac agreed, frustration evident in his voice. "The problems are growing faster than our ideas."
Enjolras considered this, ignoring the prickle of irritation that rose at what he saw as criticism. Ok, so they hadn't actually made that much difference, but at least they were trying; they were putting up posters, there was a protest coming up…
…that was it.
He realised with a jolt that that was literally all they had planned. A year ago, to only have one protest in the works would be unheard of, and yet…
And it wasn't even as though the problems they were fighting against were getting better – if anything, they were worsening by the day!
He felt the spark of an idea in the back of his mind, and couldn't completely dismiss it, no matter how much he told himself it was a bad idea: too much, too soon… they'd never get away with it... it wouldn't work… would it?
But what if it did?
He met her eyes again, as he mulled it over in his mind, frantically scrutinising every part of the idea. It was a risk. It was a big one. But if they pulled it of…
Something must have shown on his face because her gaze turned questioning. She smiled as their eyes stayed locked for just a few seconds more, and then suddenly, he knew. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew. Without even knowing it, Éponine had given him all the courage he needed to stand up and say:
"EVERYBODY! LISTEN UP!"
Conversations were abruptly ended around the entire table. A glance around the room confirmed what he already knew: they were the only ones there. The timing was perfect.
"I have an idea. It's a risky idea, and it might be a really stupid one, but… I think we can do this." He looked at her again, and she grinned. He felt his confidence rising again.
"We have been working non-stop for a few years now, trying everything to change what we know is wrong with this country, and helping the people at the bottom of the heap in any way we can. We've written letters, given speeches, held sit-ins, plastered every surface in Paris with posters and protested every cause under the sun, but… what have we actually accomplished?"
He paused, but the room was deadly silent. All eyes were on him. In one pair in particular, the first sparks of a fire were brewing.
"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate every last second you guys – and girls, sorry Éponine - have given up, and we honestly wouldn't even be where we are today without it. And if we've helped even one person get up out of the gutter, or find a job, or feed their family, or even just feel better about themselves, it was worth it. There have been excellent intentions behind everything you've done and I truly believe that doing it all was worthwhile."
He hadn't written notes for this. It had been years since he'd stood up in the café with nothing prepared. He felt the thrill of it coursing through him, the panic that he might run out of words, might misrepresent the facts… or that he might just inspire everyone in that room to stand up and fight with him.
"I just think it's got past the stage where posters and small-scale speeches are going to make a difference. The people have heard this all before! We're not telling them anything they don't know about their situation. They know that they're hungry and poor, and they know whose fault that is. So many people have gone waltzing into those slums and said they're going to fix it, but nobody ever has. So what we need to do is show them we're determined to fix this. Properly. Permanently."
As he spoke, Enjolras felt the zeal rising up again; the powerful, righteous fury he'd felt in the early days of his campaigning. He felt like his 19 year old self again; climbing on statues, breaking into dog pounds, chaining himself to gates… starting fights, where necessary. He thought he'd just grown up the past few years, and that was why none of it felt like it used to; the rush was bound to go, and what good did fighting really do anyway? Well he thought why don't we find out?
"I propose we stand and fight for what we believe in. We're French, aren't we? And what do the French do when they don't like the way things are going?
We change it. We fight. We revolt.
We build barricades on the streets of Paris and we defend OUR city, OUR country, OUR rights, and OUR freedom.
So. Who's with me?"
Silence. He looked around at the stunned faces in front of him, momentarily feeling unbelievably stupid, until Courfeyrac piped up "Wait, you mean a literal barricade?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
A few more seconds of silence passed before Combeferre said, almost in awe, "it's such a stupid idea that it might actually work."
At that, Éponine said loudly "SOLD." She stood up and grinned at him, her eyes blazing with the fire that had first drawn him to her. "I'm in."
Despite everything, Enjolras was surprised. "Really?" he blurted out.
"Yeah. I love stupid plans that might work!" she answered brightly. Yeah… that's the spirit… he thought, a little disheartened that that was why she was in. "Also" she continued. "I actually think it's a really good idea. We can't win on the political side, right? So let's take the fight to them. People'll flock to a literal, physical sign of resistance. Why not?"
"People respond to a symbol" Combeferre agreed. "I'm in."
"If Combeferre's in, it can't be that stupid an idea" Courfeyrac said as he stood up too. Close behind him followed Feuilly, Pierre, Bossuet and Jehan.
"We'll get arrested" Grantaire pointed out. "At best."
"Like it's the first time for any of us" Bahorel laughed, standing up. "I'm in too."
"They'll just send tanks and flatten us."
"That won't do them any favours" Feuilly pointed out. "Think the international community will stand by and let them flatten their own citizens? We're in the EU, think they'll stand by and do nothing? And NATO? And the UN? There's no way."
"And even if they do" Enjolras said, feeling the passion coursing through his veins. "It might just piss the rest of France off enough to come and fight in our place."
Everyone looked at him. Only Grantaire and Joly remained sitting down. Enjolras met Joly's calculating eyes.
"Minimal violence?" the young doctor asked warily, staring Enjolras down through his glasses.
"Only what is necessary." Enjolras promised.
"Ok." Joly said. "I'm in."
Éponine nudged Grantaire's shoulder. "What about you, R?" she whispered, so he could barely here. Grantaire looked at her, then at him. Enjolras held his gaze challengingly for a few seconds. "Go on." He said. "I dare you."
Grantaire scraped his chair back, standing up almost angrily. "Fine" he said, in a strangely triumphant voice. "I'm in."
A cheer rang out across the whole room. Gavroche and Jacques jumped up and down on the tables, before being hoisted onto various shoulders. The atmosphere had changed in the café that night, and everybody knew it: they weren't just dabbling anymore. This was the big leagues.
As he met Éponine's eyes and grinned, he felt more alive than he ever had before.
"Right!" he shouted. "We've got a government to take down. Best get started."
And for once, nobody argued.
Please review! And I'll be back soon... for real this time! :)