Chapter Fourteen
A/N: Thank you to Alex-samsprout, MissFiyerabaMeponineSherlock and Saint Isabella-Eponine for reviewing the last chapter.
As the rain pattered hard against the cobbles of the Paris streets, Éponine was reminded of the time, not long ago, when she had pined after her lost love, singing for him alone in the rainfall. It was on this very street that she had sung that song, proclaiming that the very world she lived in would change horrifically without Marius, while his world would keep turning if she should begone.
She did not know why she had come to the Musain, especially after all that had happened here in recent times. But it had been a place of refuge for the girl for so long, and not even the horrors of the Barricades could take those memories away, the memories of safety, friendship and warmth that had come hand in hand with the Café Musain. However, in truth, the reason she was here was that there was nowhere else for her to go.
In the past, she had always come to the place for protection from her father and his gang, the same thing she needed now. The boys had not known how to fight, not really, and probably would not have been much use, had it ever come to blows, but they had had good intentions and had wanted to protect her as one of their own. Now, Éponine did not have them to keep her safe, nor even Montparnasse any longer, as he had disappeared when the police had come. Now she was well and truly alone.
The wind whistled through the air, a fierce tune akin to a battle march as it beat against the shutters of the nearby houses, and the young woman shivered as it blew against the damp skin of her arms. She knew that she should try and find shelter, but she was not going to rest, not when she was alone and when her father was still probably looking for her, trawling the streets with his gang to enact her punishment for desertion.
As if her thoughts had conjured them out of the air, a set of footsteps appeared, a heavy pounding on the streets audible even above the sound of the rain. For a moment she feared that her father's gang had found her, but then she took a moment to listen carefully to the pattern their boots were making against the stone. They were measured and regulated, not like the scurrying of the Patron-Minette; like the march of a group of soldiers.
It had been a risk for Éponine to stop for as long as she had done and that risk had not paid off in the least, for she had barely taken the first stride of her run when she saw the National Guardsmen appear from around a corner and she had barely managed to turn to flee before she felt the grip against her arms. No longer caring for dignity or pride, the brunette shrieked and fought wildly against the Guardsmen, but she had lost so much weight that she could barely put up a fight. She kicked and flailed but they held her fast, ignoring her screams as she cried out her innocence, no longer caring if she was heard by her father. 'He wouldn't be fool enough to come after me when the Guardsmen are here anyway.' she told herself. 'Or perhaps, if I am really lucky, he would.'
"Let me go!" she cried out, jamming her elbow into the ribs of the man that held her. She felt him double up, but it was not enough for her to try and escape, for another two men appeared instantly, holding her more securely. "You can't do this to me, I've done nothing wrong!"
"We've had a report from a respectable lady in this area that you were caught stealing from her." explained one of the men, his voice infuriatingly calm.
"I haven't stolen anything!" she yelled, but the men did not seem to care. They were leading her away somewhere, down the decorated streets of the bourgeosie; she did not need to be familiar with the area to know that she was heading in the direction of the prison. She had narrowly avoided being incarcerated for years, always one step ahead of the police, but now it seemed she had finally run out of luck.
By the time the prison came into sight, Éponine had long since given up the fight. She knew from experience with the National Guard that if a well-to-do woman had reported a theft, there was no point in a street rat such as her trying to deny the accusation. They would never believe a lowly girl over a rich madame, even if she was innocent of any wrong.
No sooner had she been given shelter from the torrential rain than she was hurled into the cold darkness of an empty cell and left alone to cry. She wrapped her arms tightly around her head to protect her from injury as she hit the floor, scraping her arms against the uneven stones. But it was not the pain of her bleeding wounds that left her in tears, for that did not compare for what was surely to come.
As the daughter of one of Paris' most wanted criminals, Éponine was well-versed in punishment, a knowledge that had never given her comfort, least of all now. The punishment for stealing from the bourgeosie was a street rat's death, hanging on the scaffold for all the city to see.
'I'll never get to see Marius.' she thought despairingly, digging her knuckles into her eyes to stop the tears. 'I'll never get to tell him that I'm innocent, that I am sorry... that I love him, truly, more than I have ever loved anyone in my life.'
It took hours for Éponine to finally drift off to sleep, but when she did, she tossed and turned, plagued with the nightmare engraved in her mind but not waking, for she knew that when the sun came up, a far worse nightmare awaited her.
A/N: Oh no! 'Ponine! Please review!