AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's another Enjonine-Plus-A-Baby fic. It's actually an old plot idea I had that I never finished until now. This work is in honor of Samantha Barks having her first child with her husband Alex Michael Stoll.
I know Douglas Booth is the popular Montparnasse headcanon. But I saw Josef Altin in the 2018 BBC Les Mis, and he's everything I ever wanted. So Josef is now my faceclaim for Montparnasse.
TRIGGER WARNING: drug mention, drug mules. This is rated M, not R.
This is based on the 2012 film. The title is from "Everything Changes" by Sara Bareilles (because Samantha needs to play Jenna in Waitress).
I didn't know but now I see
Sometimes what is, is meant to be
You saved me
My blurry lines, my messy life
Come into focus and in time
Maybe I can heal and I can breathe
'Cause I can feel myself believe
Everything changes
Enjolras holds back Éponine's hair as she leans over the toilet.
Music blares from the party down the hall, the bass shaking the floor like an earthquake. But the lawyer chooses to stay with her, even as she empties the contents of her stomach. Kneeling in her short green dress, she slumps against the wall of Cosette's bathroom.
"Thanks, Enjolras," Éponine says, trying not to gag again. "What a way to get to know each other better," she jokes weakly.
Enjolras sits beside her in a red blazer and gray slacks under the fluorescent light. He is still unfairly beautiful, like a Greek statue carved from marble. "I make a point of helping friends."
She leans her head back against the wallpaper, and removes her stilettos. "Well, we're just friends of friends. I tag along with Marius. He's the reason we even met."
"How much did you drink tonight?" he asks.
"Nothing." Her heart constricts when she thinks of the reason. She pushes the thought away. "I'm trying to go sober."
"But Cosette said you've been ill for a few days," he comments. "You should see a doctor."
She shakes her head. "I can't afford it. Ran out of sick days at the Musain. And anyway, I don't have health insurance."
He looks at her sharply. "You don't have healthcare?"
"I work two minimum wage jobs, Enjolras. No, I'm not insured. Look, I came to the party to forget about-" Tears well in her dark eyes.
"Forget about what?"
She hasn't told anyone, except Montparnasse. She wanted to talk to Marius. But he's oblivious as usual, heads over heels with his girlfriend. Cosette is hosting tonight, and as kind as the golden-haired girl is, she's too busy for a heart to heart. Grantaire is already drunk. And Éponine is running out of people to turn to.
"That…" Éponine's heart beats a terrified staccato in her chest. She tries not to let emotion take over. But then the fear, grief, pain comes crashing down like a tsunami wave. "That I'm pregnant, and the father abandoned me."
Her heart betrays her, and Éponine weeps.
She pulls her knees to her chest, uncaring that she's wrinkling her dress. She presses her forehead to her knees, knowing she is alone. Then a strong, steady arm comes around her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," Enjolras says.
Despite her efforts to be unbreakable, she leans into his side. They don't know each other well at all, but she cries as he holds her. There's nothing pretty about it. Mascara streaks down her red and blotchy face, snot forms at her nose, and her eyes are raw. Her world is collapsing, and now she has a baby she has to raise utterly alone. But Enjolras stays with her on the bathroom floor, even though he has no reason to.
They walk to her apartment later that night. He puts his blazer around her shoulders.
"Thanks for driving me," she says. She's hasn't actually been in a luxury car before. Not as a passenger. Éponine helped her family steal sportscars in the past, but she'd never been invited to ride in one.
"Don't mention it," he replies. Then his blue eyes search her dark gaze. "You sure you'll be alright?"
"I'll survive," she says. "See you around."
"See you," he repeats as she goes inside. But she glances back over her shoulder.
When she wakes to her phone ringing, Éponine realizes she still wears the dress and his blazer.
"Hello?" she mumbles.
"Can I bring over breakfast?" comes Enjolras' voice. "You need to eat healthy now. What do you want?"
"Eggs. It's the only thing that sounds remotely appealing."
"On it," he says like it's a life or death mission. The call ends.
She makes herself shower and change into sweats. As she dries her hair, she realizes she has to buy maternity clothes, and a crib, diapers, formula, baby shoes, everything. All with money she doesn't have.
She hears a knock. Enjolras is at her door with a takeout bag. "I brought omelettes."
"Thanks. Come in," she says. As he walks inside, she tilts her head when she sees the bag's logo. "Wait, did you go to that really fancy place, The Corinthe? They have thirty dollar coffee, and gourmet scones. I thought you'd get, like, McDonalds."
"It wasn't a problem. I thought about making eggs myself, but I'm not a great cook. And I didn't want to keep you waiting."
"Oh, by the way, here's your blazer."
They sit together at her table. "Okay, I can see why that place charges so much," she admits after wolfing down the omelette. Her stomach settles slightly.
He cuts his eggs with a knife and fork, precise as always. "You said the father left you," he says seriously. "What happened?"
She can't answer for a moment. "His name is Montparnasse," she finally tells him. "We've been on and off, well, for about forever. 'Parnasse is…" She sighs. "He's a mule for my folks' meth lab."
Enjolras chokes slightly, coughing. "What? He's a drug courier?"
"There's a reason I left home the day I turned eighteen. Anyway, I went to 'Parnasse the night Cosette and… and Marius said they were first dating." She blinks back tears, determined not to cry. "Montparnasse is always down for kinks. Bondage, handcuffs, pain play, whatever. But afterwards, my period was late. He took one look at the positive test, said he had to deliver marijuana, and ran out the door. I've called so many times. But I haven't seen him since."
Silence falls.
"Holy shit," he finally says.
"I'm keeping the kid," she goes on. "But I will never, never let them near that crack house. Maybe it's for the best that Montparnasse left."
"So your ex isn't paying child support."
"No."
He leans forward, elbows on the table. "I can make a case out of this. Take him to court. Force him to give you child support payments."
"There's no point. Look, I know 'Parnasse. He isn't coming back. And honestly, I think it's good that he's gone. Our kid will have a better life without his influence. It is what it is. I'm alright with letting this go."
"Éponine-"
"This isn't your war. You don't need to fix my messy life."
"At least let me pay for doctors' appointments," he says passionately.
"Women were fine back in the day without healthcare."
"I want you and your child to be looked after." He takes her hand. "Please let me help you."
"Why are you doing this for me?" she wonders.
"Because it's the right thing to do."
Éponine feels like an imposter at the doctor's office.
She sits beside Enjolras in the obstetrician gynecologist's waiting room. They are surrounded by glowing expecting mothers, all clearly hailing from money. The other patients have designer maternity fashion, perfect nails, not one sleek hair out of place. This is an upscale private practice Éponine often drives by, but never imagined walking into. There is a chandelier overhead, new Vogue Magazines on the tables, classical music from the speakers. The velvet chairs are more comfortable than anything she's ever slept on.
But most of all, it feels strange to be with Enjolras. As if they're husband and wife, looking forward to a family. She's not overjoyed to be having a kid like the other women. But Enjolras takes her hand, squeezing lightly as if to say You can do this.
For a moment, she has a fantasy of life with Enjolras. Which is strange, as they're acquaintances through a mutual friend. She knows in her bones if Enjolras had been the father, he never would have bailed. Chivalrous and noble to a fault, he would've proposed. His ring would be worth more than the money she could make in a lifetime. And they've had a big white wedding, raised the kid in his penthouse. Done life in almost the right order.
But in reality, she knows it will never happen.
"Miss Thénardier, the doctor will see you now," the nurse calls. "If you and your husband would follow me."
"He's not my husband," Éponine says, feeling stares from the other women in the room. One woman looks snidely at Éponine's bare ring finger.
"I'm a friend here for moral support," Enjolras explains.
But he puts a hand on the small of Éponine's back as they go down the corridor.
The day she moves to Cosette's place, Éponine is packing the last boxes. She's started showing just slightly, but loose clothes hide it. And then the doorbell rings.
She opens it to find Enjolras, Grantaire, and all of their friends. "We're here to help you move," Enjolras says. It's not a question.
"Wait," she says as her friends march into her apartment. "I can do this by myself."
"No offense," Grantaire replies, only slightly buzzed. "But you can't lift anything over twenty pounds." He's drunk or high most of the time, but the artist comes through when she needs him. "We're getting everything."
In no time at all, the apartment is empty. The guys load her things into their cars. And she laughs at something Grantaire says, while Enjolras drives Bahorel's truck.
When they arrive, Cosette embraces Éponine on the front step of the townhouse. "Welcome home."
Cosette starts paying for the expensive OBGYN. She joins her friend at checkups, and they go shopping for clothes to fit Éponine's changing body. Éponine doesn't see Enjolras for a week straight. She tells herself that it is ridiculous to miss someone she barely knows.
Then Cosette tells her that Marius popped the question. The giant diamond ring seems to mock Éponine.
During the wedding planning, Éponine focuses on Cosette. Thankfully, Marius is often at work, so she doesn't always see the groom-to-be. It makes the process easier.
For Éponine, standing as a bridesmaid in her blue dress is honestly the worst part. Both because Éponine's back and feet hurt, and she is two feet away from Marius exchanging vows with Cosette. The bride's grand gown is covered in floral appliqué. Éponine fakes a smile during the ceremony, and posing with the photographer. But during the reception, Éponine sits alone at a table. At six months along, she feels like a whale, and now has nowhere to live. She tries not to get emotional for all the wrong reasons.
"Do you want to dance?"
She looks up to see Enjolras. "You know what, yes." She kicks off her heels and, barefoot, follows him to the dance floor.
She leans into him as they slow dance with the other guests. She holds the skirt of her sapphire gown, and he has a red pocket square in his tux. She presses her face to his chest, and listens to his heartbeat. His left hand goes to her elbow, but his right hand brushes her bump. The touch is brief, but it sends a shiver down her spine. She wants a partner to share the pregnancy journey with. She wants someone else to care about the first kick, first steps, first words.
After the newlyweds leave for their honeymoon, the melancholy Éponine shuffles to her hotel room door. Enjolras walks behind her, as she carries her heels in her hand.
"Do you want to come in?" she asks. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
He pauses. "I don't want to sleep with you while you imagine I'm Marius."
And then Enjolras walks away down the hall.
The following Monday, Éponine goes back to the Musain.
She barely slept over the weekend, always thinking of Marius or Enjolras. Her brain never let her rest. And then the golden-haired lawyer is in line at the café. "One black coffee."
"Coming right up," she says flatly to Enjolras, avoiding eye contact. She winches at a slight cramp.
He's not happy with her, but he still looks concerned. "Are you okay?"
Her response is blunt. "Fine."
But when she brings the cup to the register, she drops it at a stab of pain. She hisses as the coffee spills across the counter. But she's still only at six months, it is far too early for labor. What the hell is happening?
"Éponine?" Enjolras asks.
Her eyes widen when she feels something wet on her pants. And hopes she didn't just pee herself at work.
Her fingers come away crimson with blood.
Enjolras helps Éponine limp into his penthouse.
She moves stiffly, terrified of overworking her body until she bleeds again. The ER doctor said she was only spotting from stress, but it was more than normal. Hovering, Enjolras guides her to the couch.
"I want to apologize for what I said at the wedding," he begins. "Saying you'd imagine I was Marius."
"I was desperate at the reception, I won't lie," she admits.
"But how could I be so idiotic? I'm a lawyer, for the love of-" He takes her hand. "I made you so distressed that you bled. I hurt you, physically and emotionally."
"I've been through much, much worse."
"Do you want to stay with me for a while?" he asks. "As… as friends. Anyway, Cosette's buying a house with M- And I want to make sure you're okay."
She nods. "Yeah, I'll stay."
He stands. "I'll set up my guest room-"
She grasps his arm. "Wait. After the ER, I don't want to sleep alone tonight. I'm not ready for, you know, being physical. I just want to share a bed."
She lays down on his red sheets, and he settles behind her. His leg just barely meets hers, and he pulls away. "Sorry."
"You can touch me, 'Jolras." She feels his nose brush her hair. His hand goes to her side, and she curves her back to his chest.
In the end, she never does move to the guest room.
The bleeding doesn't return.
She's never been so careful about her health before, not like this. But she is finally on the mend. A young physician's assistant meets Éponine and Enjolras when the OBGYN is away. "You can even be intimate again," the assistant offers. Enjolras and Éponine look at each other.
"Oh, actually we're-"
"You see-"
But that night, the attorney comes back from the law firm. Éponine is starting to think of his penthouse now as her home. She wears his red button-down shirt, her long legs stretched out. Her bump is sizable at six months along, and she can't fasten all the buttons of the shirt. It only just barely closed over the black lace bra she bought for the occasion. Her long raven hair flows like a dark waterfall.
He comes in the front door, looking at his phone. "This new court case is insane, let me tell you-" He drops his phone and briefcase when he sees her.
She stands from the couch with difficulty. Then she stalks across the room, and reaches for his tie. "I want you and only you." She leans to kiss him.
In their room, she takes control. "On your back," she orders.
"Yes, ma'am," he says, shedding his suit jacket. She smirks. When he sits down, she awkwardly heaves herself onto the bed. He instantly reaches for her. "Careful."
"Sort of ruins the mood," she admits.
"Are you certain you're ready for this? If you're still in pain…"
"I'm healed. And honestly, I've wanted to do this for ages." But finally she swings a leg over him, and straddles him. "I'm not imagining 'Parnasse, or Marius, or anyone else." She brings his hand to cup her breast. "Now where were we, Enjolras?"
"This looks better on you than me." He opens the buttons of his red shirt that she wears. And he kisses her exposed breasts, over the edge of her black lace bra. She sighs, grasping his hair. "Didn't realize I had a thing for you wearing my clothes. But I do."
"I was hoping you'd say that, Enjolras," she gasps as his mouth goes to her neck. "Enjolras!"
She chants his name like a prayer that night.
Éponine has no idea why she waited so long to be with Enjolras.
When she first met him, it was impossible not to see how handsome he was. Enjolras looked like Michelangelo's creation. But she had eyes only for Marius at the time. But then Marius had a fairytale romance with Cosette, and Éponine was knocked up with a drug dealer's kid. And Enjolras helped her just because he wanted to.
But now her life is entangled with Enjolras', in ways she never expected. He is dependable, passionate, and drop-dead gorgeous. He stocks the fridge with organic produce, soothes her swollen ankles, joins her at every checkup. And his tongue is just as talented in the courtroom, as it is in other ways.
The doctor glides the wand over Éponine's abdomen. Enjolras is nearby in a chair next to the exam table. "I'm getting a clear image this time," the physician tells them. "Would you like to know the sex now? But if you want to wait for a gender reveal-"
"No! Honestly!" Éponine scoffs. "I am not doing a gender reveal party. They're ridiculous, and a waste of money. I want to know now." She makes herself be polite. The gynecologist is her delivery physician, after all. "Please."
"So what is it?" Enjolras asks.
The OBGYN smiles. "It's a girl."
Éponine suddenly has tears in her eyes. She is happy. Part of it is the hormones. But part of it is terror, because of what girls endure. How can she protect her daughter from the darkness in the world?
And then Enjolras pulls her into his arms, and kisses the top of her head. "Congratulations. A girl, 'Ponine."
And she thinks, I could get used to this.
But then Éponine catches herself at the dangerous thought. Trust is a risk. And look at how that turned out with Montparnasse. And Marius, for that matter. She decides to enjoy this with Enjolras.
Because it won't last forever. Nothing ever does.
She drives his convertible to the law firm. On the sidewalk, she puts a hand on her aching back. At eight months, she is always tired and sore. Briefcase in hand, Enjolras comes outside as she waits for him. He looks tired, more than normal. "Hey."
He kisses her cheek. "Hey." But then he brings his hand to his temple.
"Migraine again?"
He sighs. "Nothing new. But it's bad today."
They wander around IKEA hand in hand, debating cribs and changing tables. "No, we are not painting the nursery red," she says, sinking into a rocking chair on display. "I like this one."
He looks at the price tag. "Sounds good to me."
Éponine attempts to stand, but her body's weight keeps her in the chair. She drops back down. "I can't get up."
Enjolras puts the box of wooden parts on their shopping cart. "Do you want help?"
She shakes her head, stubborn. "No. I can stand by myself."
She tries again, and again, and heaves with all her might. But she falls into the rocking chair. "Alright, fine, I need a hand."
He grins as he hauls her upright. Now that she is at eight months, even he strains to lift her. "There you go," he says, trying not to laugh.
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, yes, hilarious." But she smiles in return.
They load the items into the car, and Éponine puts the small humidifier in the trunk. Enjolras struggles to shove the rocking chair box in the backseat. Every spare inch of the convertible is packed.
"Hello again, Éponine."
She looks up sharply to see the tattooed and pierced Montparnasse.
"'Parnasse," she says through her teeth, every muscle tense.
Enjolras leaves the box halfway out of the car, and instantly goes to her side. "So this is-"
Éponine crosses her arms. "The deadbeat sperm donor who abandoned me and his own child? Yes."
"It's been a while," Montparnasse says casually. Her asshole of an ex-boyfriend looks at her massive bump, almost at term. She wonders if Montparnasse has drugs on him right now. Body packing weed in his shoes, lining of his coat, hollow capsules of powder ingested into his stomach. Fitting if there's a bag of meth up his-
"What do you want?" she says firmly.
Montparnasse shrugs, as if they're discussing the weather. "It ain't no crime to say hello, babe."
"Don't call me babe!" she shoots back.
He rolls his eyes. "Relax, sweetheart!"
She lifts her chin. "I'm not your babe, or your sweetheart, or your anything! Our child deserves a better father than you!"
Montparnasse scoffs. "Oh, like Blondie here?"
"I'll have you know-!" Enjolras begins.
Éponine grasps Enjolras' hand. "Yes! Now I want you to walk the hell out of my life!"
Montparnasse's eyes narrow. "Whatever, bitch!"
"Don't call her that!" Enjolras growls.
She has to stop the lawyer from striding forward, about to punch the drug dealer. "Go, 'Parnasse!"
Montparnasse flips her off. "Goodbye, slut." Her child's worthless father sulks off, crossing the parking lot.
She takes Enjolras' face in her hands, and kisses him, hard.
She wants to show that she chooses the attorney without a shadow of a doubt. She shoves her tongue into Enjolras' mouth, and he groans against her lips. They lean at the car, and he angles to her side with her bump in the way. Mouths fusing, his hips meet her leg. They finally break apart for air. "Let's finish this at home," she says breathlessly.
Éponine and Enjolras kiss against the front door as she fumbles for her keys. She manages to unlock it, even with his teeth scraping her neck. They go inside, both breathing hard. Her hair is a mess. "Bed. Now," he orders.
He follows her to the bedroom. The fire in his eyes dims as he helps her onto the mattress. "If you don't want to do this…"
"I want to," she replies.
He searches her eyes. "I'd never cause you pain. If I hurt you, tell me, and I'll stop."
"I'm not made of glass. Go ahead."
He leans over her to kiss her, boxing her in with his arms. They've never been together with such intensity, not like this. The space is electric between them. "Can I hold your hair?" he asks with a hint of a growl. She nods, and gasps when he fists her long dark hair.
She hasn't seen this look in his eyes before, almost turning his eyes a darker shade of blue. "Who are you with?"
"You, Enjolras."
They remove her shirt together. Normally she'd be self-conscious of her ugly beige maternity bra. But he kisses the valley of her breasts like she is Aphrodite. His lips make a path down her body – her neck, collarbone, knee, ankle. Then he kneels by the bed, and kisses the hard globe of her stomach. "I have a confession," he says in a low voice. "I wish it was my child in you."
"So do I," she pants. He grasps her hips and pulls her to the edge of the mattress. It's not cruel, he would never harm her. But it is possessive, and sets her alight.
After, they lay beside each other, breathing hard and covered in a sheen of sweat. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" Enjolras asks as he gets up to pull on sweatpants.
She puts on her hideous bra. "No, of course not. I'd love to do it again sometime." She'll never tire of seeing his abs.
When he returns to bed, Éponine brings his hand to feel the movement under her skin. "Looks like she enjoyed it, too."
He drops a chaste kiss on his lover's stomach. "One more month seems like forever. I can't wait until she's here."
Montparnasse never would've said something like that. "I love you," Éponine breathes without thinking.
Enjolras looks up quickly. "You do?"
She flushes. She's more self-conscious of the words, rather than how intensely physical they just were. "Yeah, I do."
"I've loved you for ages, 'Ponine," he says, and captures her mouth with his. But then he hisses in pain, clutching his head.
"Are you okay?"
"Migraine's coming back."
He had relaxed somewhat, once they had fallen into bed. But she sees tension again in his neck and broad shoulders. "Lie down."
He blinks at her. "What?"
"I'll give you a massage. You need one. Do it, 'Jolras."
Now she is the dominant one, lightly pushing to lay on his chest. He looks over his shoulder as she sits on his legs. "You need to relax," she says, as she starts to knead the tension out of his hips.
He sighs as she works on knots and tight muscles. Her hands go deep, kneading his back the way he has massaged her ankles before. She is thorough, and focuses on his shoulders. "Right there," he groans when she works on his rigid neck.
At last he is boneless, as she moves to lay beside him. "It worked. Thanks, 'Ponine."
She brushes his golden curls from his face. "You look after me so faithfully. It's time I repaid the favor."
But he doesn't respond, eyelids closing. Yet as he drifts off, his hand goes to her bump, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. She is in love with him all over again, as he falls asleep.
Cosette throws a massive baby shower. There's so much pink that Éponine's eyes hurt. Surrounded by friends, she is opening gifts when her phone rings. The caller ID says Mom, and she cancels it. "Thanks for the sweater," Éponine says instead.
"I crocheted it myself," Cosette replies, because of course she knits.
Throughout the party, Éponine's mother calls ten times. She dismisses each one, but worry gnaws at her as she and Enjolras see the last of their friends to the door. When her phone rings for the eleventh time, she finally answers. "What is it?"
"Montparnasse is dead," her mother says bluntly.
Éponine almost collapses, and has to reach for the wall. Enjolras rushes to her side. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"How did it happen?" she says into the phone. Éponine feels faint as the attorney helps her to the couch.
"He was smuggling at an airport," her mother explains. "Even I thought he swallowed too many bags. But it was your father's biggest order ever. He and 'Parnasse wanted to do it. But Montparnasse got arrested, and the airport security was rough. I think one of the bags ruptured in his small intestine. He died at the hospital, handcuffed to the gurney. He's gone." A pause. "Despite everything, I know he got you pregnant. Thought you should know."
Éponine can't even respond. She vaguely hears her mother's voice continue as Éponine lowers the phone, and ends the call. She never thought she would miss Montparnasse. But she is hollow, aching, shocked into silence. Enjolras waits for her to speak.
"Montparnasse died," she breathes.
Enjolras doesn't say anything for a long moment. He brushes her hair back from her face, and she belatedly realizes tears slide down her face. "I didn't love him. I don't know why I'm crying, I'm sorry."
"You're allowed to grieve."
The next morning as rain falls outside, she wakes to searing pain. Worse than the spotting episode ever was, and it's clear the stress of grief has sent her into labor. Éponine reaches for Enjolras, asleep beside her. "'Jolras," she says, voice faint from the contraction.
He only wakes when she hits him with a pillow. "Enjolras!"
At the hospital, pain is the only thing that exists. She would be embarrassed at what labor does to her, except now her entire universe is agony. There is no room for shame, as she's not in control of her own body anymore. Yet Enjolras stays by the hospital bed, letting her cling to his hand.
"Water," she pants. "I need to get in the water."
The nurses quickly set up the birth pool, and the doctor and Enjolras help Éponine into the warm water. Fitting that as rain runs down the windowpane, water features again in a pivotal moment of her life. Yet the contractions tear through her just like before. "I can't," she sobs. "It's too hard, I can't!"
Enjolras kneels in his borrowed scrubs. With his thumb, he draws deep circles in her back through her hospital gown, trying to relieve her pain. "Yes, you can."
She screams until her voice is hoarse-
Then the baby falls out, and the doctor quickly lifts the child out of the water. Éponine's body, heart, and soul are ripped apart. But then her daughter cries, and on instinct Éponine takes her from the doctor. "Hello," the exhausted young woman rasps. She is a mother now, and her child is finally here.
"She looks healthy," the tired doctor announces.
"What're you going to name her?" Enjolras asks, coming to Éponine's side.
As the infant wails with strong lungs, Éponine looks over to see Enjolras crying. She's never seen him shed tears before. But now he does, as if the child is biologically his. She wishes it was true.
"Joan, for Joan of Arc. Do you want to hold her?"
"Yeah," he says faintly. Éponine carefully places the fussing Joan, wrapped in the striped hospital blanket, into his arms. And Enjolras blinks back more tears as he looks down at the red and wrinkled newborn. It looks natural for him to hold her. "I'm your stepdad. Or whatever your mother wants me to be. But I'll always be here for you, Joan." Éponine cries all over again.
The doctor and nurses help Éponine onto the hospital bed, as Enjolras holds the baby. "'Jolras," Éponine says once she has collapsed against the pillows.
"What is it?" he says, bringing Joan to the gurney.
Éponine takes a fistful of his shirt and pulls him down to kiss him. She doesn't care that the entire staff watch them. All she needs is to pour everything she has into the kiss. Éponine didn't know it was possible to love him even more.
But she does.
They finally go home two days later.
Éponine can barely move. Enjolras goes in first, placing Joan's carrier safely on the floor. And then he goes back to lift Éponine into his arms, and brings her across the threshold.
"I can walk," she protests.
"I'm not letting you be in pain out of stubbornness." He places her on the couch. "What do you need?"
"I just want to see Joan." He picks up the two-day-old and brings Joan to her mother. Éponine never thought she'd be homey and domestic. But she can't imagine life any other way.
That night, Éponine and Enjolras wake to cries down the hall. Both are groggy from two days at the hospital, and Enjolras almost trips on the nightstand table. Éponine tries to get up, and hisses in pain. "Ow, I can't move."
"I'll go," he says.
He brings Joan to her, and Éponine adjusts her shirt as she takes her daughter. When the newborn is nursing, Éponine studies Joan in her arms.
She tries not to think about Montparnasse never meeting his daughter. Dying the day before Joan was born. There was a small part of Éponine that hoped he would change. Éponine wouldn't have returned to him, not as a lover. Never again. But if he could've stepped up, left the meth lab, and tried to be a decent parent, then maybe Joan would have known her biological father. But it is Enjolras who is beside Éponine. The attorney lets Joan hold his finger with her impossibly small hand. Not Montparnasse.
And suddenly she doesn't want to lose Enjolras. Before, she told herself to expect the end, that she would be alone and live happily never after. There's a part of her that wants to run like she used to, flee attachment to protect her heart. But she is terrified of being without Enjolras.
He glances at her. "Something on your mind?"
"Nothing," she lies.
A month passes.
When Enjolras comes back from work, Éponine waits for him. She kisses him lightly. "Welcome home."
"Words can't say how much I miss you. Both of you. Where's Joan?"
"Asleep. She's finally down for five blessed minutes. I want to enjoy the peace and quiet."
"Have you thought about going back to college?" he asks as he sets down his briefcase.
"Considering it. Right now, I've got no rope left with raising a kid. I think I might go when Joan's older. Maybe when she starts elementary school."
"I support you, whatever you want."
"I went shopping with Cosette today," Éponine goes on. "She spent more time fawning over Joan than anything. Says she has baby fever, and wants one with Marius."
He smiles. "Doesn't surprise me."
She takes a steadying breath. "I have something to ask you."
"What?"
Still sore, Éponine goes down on one knee. Then she takes the box from her pocket. She opens the velvet case to reveal a plain gold ring. "Will you marry me?"
He stares at her, uncharacteristically stunned into silence. "Yes, Éponine Thénardier, I will marry you." Then he says, "Can I adopt Joan?"
Joan is a flower girl at the wedding.
Cosette carries the six-month-old down the aisle. Joan throws the petals in Cosette's face, or simply tries to eat them. Their friends laugh, with Enjolras' family, and Gavroche and his foster parents. At the back of the room, Éponine sees Enjolras kiss the forehead of his almost-stepdaughter. They have an appointment to sign adoption papers, before leaving on the honeymoon.
And then Éponine walks herself down the aisle.
Cosette wanted her to be in a giant dress covered in lace and bows. But Éponine wears a white pantsuit and towering heels. There is no veil over her face, no flowers in hand, no tiara in her dark hair. She strides to Enjolras, boldly going after the life she dreams of.
Two years later, Éponine notices her chest hurting.
She's had the flu before, but this level of nausea is worse than normal. Her period's never been regular to begin with, but she's late. Her entire body feels more sensitive, she's lightheaded, and she cries at everything.
Then the doorbell rings.
"Hey, Cosette, Marius," Enjolras says as he opens the door. Dizzy, Éponine steadies herself on her husband's arm.
"Thanks for letting us watch her," Marius says.
"No, we should be thanking you," Éponine replies.
"We need all the practice we can get," Cosette adds, hand going to the small swell under her dress.
"Joan, look who's at the door!" Éponine calls.
The toddler Joan runs out of her room, and barrels to her honorary aunt and uncle. "You're here!" she cries, beaming with a smile missing one front tooth.
When Joan trips, Éponine rushes to catch the girl. But Enjolras steps in to sweep his adopted daughter into his arms. He's more of a natural at parenting than anyone expected. "Careful, Joan."
"Be good for the Pontmercys," Éponine sniffs, eyes wet as Joan leaves with Marius and Cosette.
"Bye, Mama, Daddy," Joan calls as the door closes.
"I still can't get over her calling me Dad," Enjolras says as they hear the car drive away.
"You know, actually-" Éponine begins, hand going to her stomach.
"What do you want for dinner?" he interrupts, oblivious, and goes to the couch. When she sits beside him, she puts her legs over his without a thought. His hand goes to her knee.
"I don't know," she sighs. "What about you?"
"I don't know either. The Musain?" he suggests.
"Ugh, no. What about that French place?"
"No. You decide," he says.
She shakes her head. "I don't want to decide. You pick the place."
"We could go to The Corinthe?"
"Alright, let's do The Corinthe. But takeout, I'm tired from driving Joan all day." She leans back so she can see his reaction. "On your way home, could you get a pregnancy test and cereal at the store?"
"Yeah, I'll buy cereal, and we need batteries too. Let me find my keys-" He freezes. "What did you say?"
Her heart pounds, but it's with anticipation. "We need a test because I think I'm… We are having a baby."
"Really?"
"Really." She nods with a watery laugh. "It's yours. No one else's."
His palm goes to splay on her abdomen, as if he never wants to remove his hand. "I want the nursery to be red this time."
She rolls her eyes with a smile. "You are impossible. White walls, red accents."
"I'll compromise." Then he kneels to kiss her flat stomach. "I've dreamed of this for so long," he says quietly.
She takes his hand. "You've done so much for me. You helped a stranger raise a kid that wasn't yours. I want to do this for you. But I also want a child with you, created of us."