A/N: And this concludes finally the 1st of June... it's been a long day.

Thank you all for your lovely comments. As a bit of self-advertising: I have written a bunch of side stories for this story and uploaded them. You can find them under my stories, it's called shadows and echoes. Currently containing an AU for Combeferre and Helene, a vignette about Feuilly and Katya and my 31 days of Enjonine story for - well - Eponine and Enjolras.

Enjoy this as well as the update. Your comments drive me on :-)

Love, Spirit

Chapter 62: The blue hour

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

The two heads of the boys who peeked out one of the tattered sides of the elephant made it clear that they had already been sleeping when Éponine arrived at the Bastille, knocking against the leg of the wooden animal to alert her brother to her presence.

Jean seemed more awake than her brother, who, bleary-eyes and with tousled hair, none the less threw down a rope and climbed to the floor as soon as he saw who had come to pay him a visit.

Éponine felt sorry instantly for dragging him out like this, but the damage was done.

"No way", Gavroche insisted, when Eponine offered to come back the next morning. "Won't sleep anyhow now that I would wonder what you wanted, so damage's done. Might as well follow through."

"I wish I brought something at least", Eponine responded with half a smile, cherishing her little brother's readiness but feeling guilty all the same. "Peace offering of sorts."

Gavroche snorted.

"You really think you need one?"

Eponine hesitated for a moment. It was true, her little brother (betrayer, the one who left while she had to stay, the one who left Azelma – who was the one of them that did not know to look out for herself) and herself had had their differences in the past, but these last days had been a whirlwind of an incomparable kind. And she had learned a few things about Gavroche that she had not been aware before.

He was strong. But none the less, he probably would have perished in the climate that was the Jondrette family in Paris. The remnants of motherly love had protected Azelma and Eponine, but Gavroche would have received no such support.

In retrospective, Eponine had to admit that he had probably saved his life when he ran.

She forced a smile onto her face and shoved her little brother to the side.

"Nah", she said dismissively. "Just thought it good manners."

Gavroche chuckled and responded to her shove; and she felt the thin bones of his shoulders pinching hers. Her little brother grinned broadly.

"We're gamins", he reminded her. "Wouldn't know nothing of good manners…"

Eponine nodded in asset, and her little brother cautiously leaned against her side, in the manner of a wild cat in strange, sudden need for comfort.

"So, 'Ponine", he said. "What's up?"

"You mustn't tell anyone what I'm telling you now", Éponine began. She had learned to trust her brother, but she did know that information was a sort of trade on the streets, and that he did what he had to get by. Best to set the grounds for this conversation first. Gavroche, after a brief frown, nodded.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, and Éponine could hear the worry under bravado. "So. Tell me."

"I just returned from Picpus", Éponine started cautiously. "Azelma's gone missing."

Gavroche frowned.

"She's been there again today?" he asked and Éponine nodded.

"I don't know what she's been up to since we left La Force, but at least Father said that she went there this morning to gather some money. And she didn't come back from there."

Gavroche pondered this for a moment.

"Not like her. And worrying", he concluded. "You found her, though?"

Éponine slowly shook her head. It would have been wrong to say that the discovery about Montparnasse had fully driven her sister's disappearance from her mind, but she was severely lacking clues and hints while, on the other side, the story had become so much more complicated.

"Not even a brown hair of hers", she said sadly. "And of course the place was deserted at that hour."

Gavroche nodded, understanding, scratching his head amidst his tousled hair.

"Yeah, as soon as the sun's down everyone leaves for their hideouts. Might be able to find some, but that would need time, and who will know if he is the right one…"

Éponine nodded. On her way here she had turned this thought around, but she had come to the same conclusion. She had no idea what had happened to her little sister, and no means to find out in short time.

It seemed that Picpus had been an eventful place to be that day. The disappearance of her sister and whatever had happened in that chapel on the cemetery.

Éponine hesitated.

"I wonder if that's linked."

Gavroche frowned.

"Talking in riddles, you are", he commented. "If you want my opinion you gotta let me into your thoughts. I mean, you came here after all. And since you've asked me to be quiet, and Zelma's disappearance isn't really dangerous material for anyone, so I guess there's more that happened in Picpus today. So, shoot."

He was as sharp as a well-kept penknife, and Éponine almost felt herself smile. For all of Gavroche's youth, there was a cleverness about him that was well beyond his years.

And then it just spilled out. Word for word, thought for thought. Frater Antoine. The Hound. The chapel on the Picpus cemetery.

Montparnasse.

And that's where Gavroche, who had done his best to listen in silence, even if in agitation, cut in and interrupted her speech.

"What?" he asked, and for a moment he was a little boy again, shocked and astonished and round-eyed. "You're kidding, right?"

Éponine placed her head against the elephant leg behind her, the wood slightly creaking in protest against the weight.

She didn't want to think about what this meant for the safety of the boys upstairs.

"I wish I were, Gavroche", she answered sadly. "But I'm not. He was there in all his glory, and he was very obviously one of them." She frowned and replayed the scene she had witnessed, both in hearing when they were still inside the chapel and in full as soon as they had come out in the open. "I think he's not been with them for so long, though."

Gavroche chewed on his lips in a strangely boyish gesture, placing his chin onto his knees as he obviously pondered what his sister had told him.

"You think he was with them already when they attacked the de Cambouts?"

Éponine had not thought of this before and replayed another scene, another night. A conversation in front of the house, the studied ease of Montparnasse as he tried to rekindle the flame that had long since gone out. He had been relaxed at that time, and with all that had happened in between, it was not very easy to determine if that calm had been a study or not.

And yet, it had been her father, apparently, who had picked the house, and why on earth would Montparnasse not have tried to deflect Thénardier's attention or at least warned his companion to avoid that the two attackers would meet?

At the very least it would have been clever to show up in Rue d'Olivel well after the dwarf had done his bloody work.

No, Éponine concluded, this did not make sense.

"I don't think so", she voiced her thoughts and Gavroche shrugged.

"La force then. When he was imprisoned with the dwarf."

Éponine nodded in confirmation.

"Of course. They left together. That's what they told me in La Force."

"But the others of Patron-Minette don't know where he went?" Gavroche continued to ask and Éponine shrugged.

"That's what they said", she answered, knowing well that could mean everything and nothing. Gavroche frowned.

"It does make sense. Him being new and all… We both know it's exactly the sort of thing he's been looking for all along."

"Hm, involvement in politics?"

Gavroche shrugged.

"Who knows if they're in for politics? Come on, who of our kind would really help these guys of the government unless you can get something of it? Like, money perhaps?"

Éponine pondered this for a moment.

"You think they're hired?"

"I think they're paid"; Gavroche answered. "Who knows, some of them may believe what they do for all the good that it does them. If you look at the way they operate, it seems like a big jumble. I guess they all learned their trades at different places if you ask me. Brought together by what? Friendship? Maybe. Or money. I don't think for a second that there's not the government behind this."

"Possibly…" Éponine had not considered this in a while, but it also did not solve her problem at hand. Quite to the contrary. It seemed that Montparnasse had made himself a couple of powerful friends.

"Doesn't help us right now, though, does it?" Gavroche had obviously guessed her thoughts, and Éponine for a moment marveled that he could still do this, after all this time. He finally was her little brother, still.

"No…" Éponine said. "I still have a missing sister, and a friend who is going much against your friends."

And just like that, the careless mention of Enjolras and his friends brought back the dilemma she was facing, and the bitter, unpleasant decision at hand. She felt her face falling, and Gavroche's did in response.

And while she was still wondering how she should explain to him what had happened, what worry she was carrying, Gavroche conveyed that he had understood with a single

"Ouch."

Éponine felt almost like laughing.

"Yeah", she answered. "Ouch. That's it."

Silence settled between them, as Gavroche rubbed his forehead with his flat palm. Éponine was glad that he understood without having to convey it to him in too many words. He himself had advised her to join forces with the Friends of the ABC, and just as Éponine had started to think that this was a wise decision, everything came tumbling about her again.

And Gavroche, if no one else, knew what would be the penance for turning against Montparnasse.

"If you tell on him, there's no way anyone will ever do anything for you again out there", he summarized the problem. They were thieves and scoundrels, and yet when dealing with each other, their honor was all they had. Shifts of loyalties had to be planned carefully. Betrayal came with a price.

Even her father had tried to stay clear of that particular path. And so, Eponine pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Yeah", she said. "That's about it."

Gavroche made a face.

"And if you tell the others, then Enjolras will know. And he'll…" His hands flailed through the air, describing without words the havoc that then was surely to expect. And Éponine nodded again.

"And Montparnasse will call the favor I still owe. And then…"

Gavroche sighed.

"Yeah. That. You really owe him something, I guess, after that thing with Alfonse…"

Éponine, at the pure memory of it, shivered slightly. The horror was not easily dispelled, and yet, the thought of Montparnasse rescuing her brought a whole lot of new conflicts about. Despite her disagreements with him – she was grateful for the rescue. And she appreciated his help.

She slung her arms around her legs and placed her head on her knees against an assault of sadness that was somewhat surprising, and yet not easily dispelled.

"It's not only that…" she said, softly. They shared history. Growing up friends and allies on the Paris streets, learning the rules of the world together. At some point in time their companionship had turned into something else, and Eponine had not forgotten the surprising tenderness with which he had treated her.

Montparnasse was a man of many faces. Eponine had taken some time to learn this, and she had come to understand that there were a number of faces of his that she did not like. He was not above hiring his knife – a murderer on money – and he carried a certain brand of arrogance that was both dangerous and frightening.

Objectively speaking, Montparnasse probably was no good company for anyone, but Eponine knew a different man wearing the same face.

She remembered the wonders of the city that he knew and shared with her – a beautiful view; a good hideout; a place where one could acquire some good food with skill and luck. She remembered, his laugh, his dark eyes, the way he could be almost cautious in the dark, hands trembling and lips uncertain.

She remembered the look he had been giving her when he thought she had not been watching. She would have given anything to have Marius look at her like that at some point in time, but that wish had not been granted.

Marius… his appearance had made her sensitive to the other faces of Montparnasse. She had seen the other side of him, and once she had started this, she could never forget that the hands that touched her with care killed others.

This was the first time Eponine had had to decide between what she was and what she wanted to be.

She had left Montparnasse, and he had taken her with surprisingly good grace. But the look had remained, and at times he almost seemed to forget what had happened, with a hand at her back or a laugh that called forth the companionship of many years. She had been as hard on herself as she had on him, dismissing his advances when they happened, and never had he given her a hard word for it.

But indifferent to him, she was not.

And Gavroche voiced exactly that.

"You still like him."

Eponine considered her answer for a while, before she responded.

"Yes", she admitted softly. "I like him. I don't love him, but I like him. He is family, in a weird sort of way. He looked out for me and I for him. He makes me angry, and I despise what he does, but…" She shrugged. "We've always been together, ever since we came to Paris. And now he goes where I don't want to follow him anymore."

"That's a start then", commented Gavroche, and she could hear the relief in his voice. "Not saying this is easy. But you have it nailed down. He goes where you don't want to follow him anymore. At least you're sure of that?"

Éponine frowned. Her little brother was correct. That was one thing she was indeed sure of. Following Montparnasse into the abyss he was wandering towards was certainly out of the question. How she would sort out the results of such a decision was another issue, but she did not want to step on the path he had been so keen to take.

"I am"; she therefore responded, and Gavroche let out an audible sigh of relief.

"That's something at least."

"It's why I left him", Éponine précised, the darkness making it easier to speak of such things to her brother. "If I would want that, there would have been a much easier way."

Gavroche obviously thought about the situation for a moment before he spoke up again.

"So we can't tell the others about this", he concluded. "But what if they figure it out on their own? They're smart. And if they find out you knew?"

"I have no idea", Éponine said honestly. "But if it ever turns out I told on him then I'll be fair game on the streets. And I don't even know if I want to turn him in."

"Hm", made Gavroche. "What do ya want then?"

"Honestly?" Eponine snorted. "I want him to stop."

Gavroche smacked his lips in regret.

"Not gonna happen. Hate to tell you, Ponine, but you gotta make up your mind. It's a wretched situation, and it's not becoming better with time."

Éponine shook her head.

"I won't betray Montparnasse", she answered. "I… I just cannot bring myself to it. I'll stay out of it."

Gavroche scooted somewhat closer to her, the side of his arm brushing hers almost accidentally.

"Dangerous game, Ponine", he advised. "You want the next body he causes to be me? Or Courfeyrac? Or Enjolras? Think of them."

And Eponine did. Good-natured Courfeyrac with his gift of setting people at ease and with his obvious love for her little, difficult brother. Enjolras, golden in his glory, terrible in his anger, and yet more shaken by the events of the last days than he would have it. He had become a confidante, of sorts, Eponine realized with some surprise.

"They're also planning to kill people. They may mean well, but it's still war."

"You chose to be one of them, Ponine"; Gavroche reminded her softly. "One of us, in fact. Did that change in the meantime?"

Eponine pondered this for a long moment; thinking of Montparnasse and their time together, thinking of the strange ray of hope that Gavroche's friends had called forth.

And shook her head.

"No. But I won't deliver him to the knifes. Sorry, Gavroche. I can't."

"What if he calls the favors?" Gavroche asked, sounding worried indeed, and Éponine had to admit she had no real answer to that.

"I'll see that when I come to it", she confessed, and Gavroche, staring at the stars, started to think aloud.

"Wouldn't it be already a sort of returning favor not to tell on him? If you now go to Enjolras and tell him his whereabouts and what he's done, then he's sure as hell dead in a few moments. So by not doing that you're saving his life. How about that for return of favor?"

Surprised, Éponine turned back to her brother again. It was not the perfect plan, but it could represent a workable solution, at least. If one argued about it well enough.

"He would need to know, of course", Éponine answered thoughtfully. Gavroche in response shrugged.

"I make a good messenger pigeon", he offered freely and Éponine felt herself smile.

"I am not sure I want to send you in that den of thieves. No idea what they'd do to you."

"Knowing I'm there at your demand and knowing what you know? Probably nothing." Gavroche shrugged again and seemed extremely unconcerned. "But in all honesty, the others need to know, at least about the Picpus brother. I understand the point about Montparnasse, but when it comes to Frater Antoine, our silence can really, really kill people."

Éponine pondered this for a moment and finally nodded.

"All right", she said. "Let's stick to the whole story I told you, but without Montparnasse. I think that's believable enough."

Gavroche sighed, ran his hands through his tousled hair and shook himself fully awake.

"Ah well. So much for a good night. Jean?" The last he called up and Éponine saw the head of a second boy peeking out of the elephant's patchy side. "I'm off to Rue Pascal. If Sylvain shows, give me a notice. Otherwise, I'll be back tomorrow."

"All right", came the sleepy voice of Jean from above, and off they were, like street rats, into the night.

"Eh. Madame."

She had drifted in and out of sleep when she heard the whisper to her side. Finding rest was hard in the large dormitory, with two nuns as wardens walking between the lines of the sleeping – or at least resting – convicts.

Hélène was not used to share a room with anyone that was not Alexandre. This hall hoisted at least fifty people, and the heavy breathing and snoring, murmuring and soft crying that made up the cacophony that was Saint Lazare at night kept her awake.

Also, she had much on her mind. Tonight was slightly better than yesterday, though. After getting back into the habit of editing, writing and scheming for their newspaper, she had felt more like herself, and more as if she could actually live through this trial without breaking.

Trial… another thing weighing heavily on her mind. She did carry trust in Pierre LaManche – by way of her father trusting him – and the fact that Courfeyrac and Marius had joined the team was good news. She knew little of Marc Lamarin, but what she had seen was encouraging at least in the way of diligence.

So, all things considered, with Combeferre being her link to le Globe and her defense in capable hands, things looked significantly less bleak than they had yesterday.

Which, of course, allowed her more time to grieve.

The absence of Alexandre was a constant dagger to her heart, and she repeatedly caught herself noting something to relay it to him later – only to realize that there would be no later for them.

They had been friends and partners, much more even than spouses, and Hélène felt as if her second self were missing.

And time ticked by as the night passed.

The voice had come from the woman in the bed to her left. Hélène did not know her name and she had not tried to learn it – she had kept herself apart and not felt the urge to converse with anyone. The people here in Saint Lazare were of very mixed origin – most of them were gamines or grisettes but there were also a few bourgeois around that Hélène had recognized by posture and clothing. The woman next to her was not one of them.

She wore a simple dress that showed significant signs of wear but not too many signs of dirt. She was missing a front tooth, but her overall appearance showed no deliberate neglect. A grisette, Hélène had decided, probably ten years older than her. Hard life had imprinted its mark on her, but she had obviously tried her best.

Hélène turned around on her cot to face her.

"Yes?" she whispered in return, her eyes darting around to discern where the nuns were walking.

"You gotta be careful", the grisette whispered and quickly shut her eyes as apparently one of their watchers were looking their way. Hélène followed suit and listened, counted to ten before she opened her eyes again.

Her neighbor was already gazing back. Helene frowned questioningly, trying not to speak to avoid attracting attention.

"Someone's tryin' to make you vanish."

Helene placed a surprised finger against her chest, as if to ask: 'me?'

The grisette nodded.

"How do you know who I am?" Hélène asked and the grisette chuckled almost soundlessly.

"You should talk with people here some time. They know a lot. And word is someone wants you gone."

Hélène felt a cold shiver running down her back.

"Here?" Her neighbor nodded.

"Don't know who. Heard it from Antoinette. Don't know where she heard it."

Hélène frowned.

"But in here? How?"

She was met with a nonchalant shrug.

"Where've you been, Madame? Happens all the time. People flee. People die fleeing. People get transported somewhere else. People vanish. Happens to the uncomfortable ones."

Hélène saw one of the nuns turn to the sound and could only give a quick, warning shush before both of them closed their eyes and feigned sleep until the steps had passed again, slow and measured and quiet.

"Thought you'd know", the woman concluded and seemed to be preparing to go back to sleep when Hélène intercepted again.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. The grisette grinned.

"They don't like ya. Means probably you're decent. That's why. But be careful. Not all think that way."

Hélène involuntarily looked around the dormitory and then back to her neighbor. Bereft of things to say she mouthed a small "thank you" and was rewarded with a grin.

"Parting gift", she said. "I'll be outta here tomorrow. You take care."

Hélène nodded, although she had no idea how she should keep to that statement.

And the sounds of the night in the dormitory all of a sudden sounded so much more threatening…

"Gavroche!" Courfeyrac did not even try to hide his joy as he realized who had knocked at Enjolras' door at night, and he pulled the gamin into a quick bear hug that, to Éponine's surprise, the boy returned willingly. "And Éponine." He spoke softly, possibly not to wake the others in the apartment, but his demeanor was so welcoming that Éponine physically felt relieved.

It was encouraging to step into the warm, softly lit apartment, a well-groomed place so far away from a dark and desolate chapel, a decaying elephant or a run-down apartment in the equally run-down Gorbeau house. She had been here so often during the last days that it almost felt like a homecoming.

Courfeyrac invited them in and offered them a seat at the table, while Éponine took a look around. They were only two in the apartment at the time. Courfeyrac had been sitting up at the table, a book and a cup of tea sitting next to a set of three candles giving off enough light to read. And in the next room, the door open, she could see the golden head of Enjolras on a pillow, stirring in his sleep.

Éponine took a moment to watch him in the half-shadows, again so much more vulnerable by night than he was by day, and she remembered, almost unbidden, the pain in his voice when he had spoken of Grantaire.

Of the man that died for him.

Killed by Montparnasse.

She had not made that connection before, but now that she thought about it, it was only logical. The type of the attack was so different to the others, and it would make sense for him to make a strong entry, a first operation that should be a success.

She had no proof, of course, and no certainty.

But that did not really matter.

"I assume you have returned unharmed."

Éponine flinched. Lost in thought she hadn't seen his eyes opening a fraction. He had not moved, and still his curls were spread out onto the pillow, but his voice had a raw, sleepy quality to it that made him somehow seem more human. Night, she had already realized, did that to him.

She nodded softly.

"I'm alright."

A bruise was forming on her cheek where her father had hit her, but that was a minor inconvenience, nothing to be concerned about. She had had worse, and it would heal in time.

He gave her a slight smile, lids closing again as he took a deep breath.

"Good", he said, voice even softer, almost inaudible, and then a second time. "Good."

Sleep obviously claimed him again, and Éponine stood there for a moment, feeling time pass. He seemed to sleep deeply again, and standing there she realized how tired she was as well, how heavy every limb. She was longing for oblivion behind closed eyes. Maybe, just maybe in the morning everything would look different than today.

"Eh, Ponine." She flinched at the voice of her little brother. She had hardly realized that a whispered discussion had been ongoing behind her back, but now it demanded her attention and she turned towards Courfeyrac and Gavroche, who had taken seat at the table and were sharing the cup of tea.

Gavroche looked tired, but relaxed, and Courfeyrac watched her with a frown, beckoning her closer to the table. She followed.

"They know already", Gavroche spilled, as she took a seat across from them. "About Frater Antoine."

Éponine whirled around to Courfeyrac in surprise.

"You do?"

"It was Jehan who found out this afternoon", he explained, "and he would have almost paid with his life for this. I do not know all the details – you would do well to ask Bahorel about them – but it seems that someone – a street girl, if I remember correctly – recognized Alfonse Rebucy from our drawings and claimed to have seen him frequently with Frater Antoine."

Éponine's eyes quickly flittered to Gavroche, who seemed alert and gave her a slight wink of companionship.

"And then?" she asked, fingers clenching on the table.

"Like I said", Courfeyrac answered. "It may well be that you should ask Bahorel about it, but it seems that a fight ensued in which the gamine and Jehan, but also Frater Antoine were wounded. From what I can tell, the false brother left the scene and Jehan and the gamine were brought to Picpus for medical attention."

"The gamine…" Éponine asked, urgency coloring her voice, "is she badly wounded?"

Courfeyrac frowned at her reaction, throwing a quick gaze to Gavroche, who was tense as well.

"You know her?" he asked. Eponine made an effort to shrug.

"Maybe", she answered and he raised his brows at that, giving her a doubting look. But Éponine was not in a mood for further explanation. "Maybe I should go."

Courfeyrac sighed.

"Maybe you shouldn't, Éponine", he answered. The doors of the monastery are closed, and if you try to break in there, chances of discovery are fairly high. You are tired. You are exhausted. We all are. Let's call it a night and start fresh in the morning."

"But…" Éponine contradicted and Gavroche shook his head as well.

"We'll go there first thing in the morning, Ponine, I promise. They won't let us in, now."

Éponine pondered the possibilities. The gamine being Azelma. The gamine not being Azelma. Azelma vanished and in danger. Azelma hurt in a hospital bed. Azelma dying in the recesses of the night. Azelma scared and alone.

But Gavroche was right as well. She was exhausted to the bone and not sure if she could manage another housebreak without commiting a major error. Living on the streets, one had to know his limits.

She prayed Azelma would be all right.

Facing Courfeyrac again, she could see a small, indulgent smile on his lips.

"How about this", he proposed, "you two take the couch and have a good nap. We are still waiting for Marius and Combeferre to appear, and if they do, we rearrange the sleeping arrangements. If they stay in le Globe, all the better. Be that as it may, Éponine, I will wake you for second watch?"

There was something in his cordiality that made her agree, and soon she found herself on the couch, her little brother snuggled up against her, both of them wrapped in a blanket.

It had been ages since they had slept that way, back in the times when Gavroche was still a baby and she the eldest daughter, haphazardly charged with caring for him.

"G'night, Ponine", she heard him murmur, and for a moment she was almost glad for this whole story to happen, with its dangers and turns, because it had brought her a brother again.

She fell asleep and dreamed of nothing.