A/N: Hey, look at me! Updating within 6 months, I'm spoiling you guys! I told you it wouldn't take me a year (although this chapter did take me a lot longer than I thought it would). Thank you for the favorites, follows, reviews, and PM's as always. I promise I read all of the reviews even though I'm terrible at responding! Also I'm pretty tired, and tired of re-reading this chapter so let me know if you catch any spelling/grammar errors and I'll fix them as fast as I can. Enjoy!

Chapter 35

"What about Isabelle if it's a girl?"

"It's pretty… but there was a girl in my class named Isabelle who used to flick crumpled up balls of paper at me when the teacher wasn't looking."

"So not Isabelle… What about Tristan if it's a boy?"

"My first boyfriend was named Tristan," Éponine said in a fake wistful voice. "We were in 7th grade and we broke up a week later when I caught him holding hands with Aubrey Dupont."

Enjolras just stared at her for a beat, then said, "Okay, so Tristan and Aubrey are out."

Éponine sighed and leaned further into the couch. They had been discussing names for over an hour and they hadn't made any headway. She was starting to wonder if they would have better luck making up their own names.

"How about Gaston if it's a boy," she joked, smiling to herself as she imagined the Amis' reaction. Jehan would probably cry with happiness if they kept up the Disney theme that Enjolras' parents had unknowingly started by naming their son Sebastian. After Enjolras didn't respond she looked over at him, he seemed thoughtful.

"Enjolras, you're not actually considering that name are you?"

He looked flummoxed. "What? You suggested it. I kind of like it, it sounds kind of unique but slightly familiar."

"That's because it's from a Disney movie."

"Oh…" Enjolras said softly, blushed slightly. "Which one?"

"Beauty and the Beast! Gaston is the villain. You've never seen that movie? It's a classic. I can't believe you know about The Little Mermaid but not Beauty and the Beast," Éponine scolded under her breath.

"I only know about The Little Mermaid because it tormented my childhood," Enjolras deadpanned. "My parents didn't really let me watch much television when I was younger."

"My mom practically raised me in front of the television," Éponine shrugged in response.

There was a bit of an awkward silence. Even though Éponine had agreed to talk more about her childhood, she rarely brought up her mother directly in conversation.

"Wait, I have an idea," Éponine exclaimed, her eyes suddenly bright. "Why don't we name the baby after your mother if it's a girl? What was her name?"

For a second Enjolras seemed to ponder this idea, but then he frowned.

"I don't know, she never really liked her name. It was Melisande… it was her grandmother's but I think she found it was too grand for her or something. She always asked people to just call her Mel. Although my father always insisted on using her full name."

"It's pretty," Éponine observed. "What does it mean?"

Enjolras thumbed through the book until he reached the correct section. His brow furrowed "Honey bee… and also strength and determination"

"Huh… well I like the second part, and honey bees are hard workers. Let's keep it under consideration."

Enjolras nodded and continued flipping through the pages.

"You know if we have a girl we will definitely be watching Beauty and the Beast, and all the other Disney princess movies." Éponine said nonchalantly. "Actually if we have a boy we will still be watching all of the Disney princess movies."

Enjolras scoffed. "As long as we don't watch The Little Mermaid…"

"We have to watch it, it's a classic. And what if we have a little girl with red hair who wants to be Ariel?"

"Why would our child have red hair?" Enjolras asked incredulously. "Neither of us have red hair."

"I had an uncle with red hair! Although… now that I think about I don't think he was really an uncle, just one of my dad's 'friends'," Éponine's voice trailed off.

"Regardless, I don't want my daughter watching a movie where a girl sells her voice just so she can become something she's not for a boy. There will also be no movies about a princess pricking their finger and waiting for a prince to save her."

"Wow you are really opinionated about this, are you going to write a speech?"

"I might, what's wrong with that?" Enjolras huffed defensively.

"So what is she going to watch? Documentaries?"

"No… not until she is older at least. She can watch the newer movies where the princesses have minds of their own."

Éponine contemplated his words for a moment. "Wait, how do you know that about the newer movies?"

Enjolras paused in his page flipping. "I read an article," he lied vaguely, and entirely unconvincingly. Éponine stared at him and crossed her arms.

"Fine, I went to see one of the newer ones a while ago with Jehan. He was begging me and I had finished my work for the day and had no excuse. There is nothing wrong with two grown men seeing a Disney movie about princesses."

Éponine suppressed a giggle at his deadpan delivery. "I didn't say there was… which one did you see?"

Enjolras sighed. "It was about… Rapunzel I believe."

"Oh, I loved that movie! Did you like it?"

Enjolras paused for a moment in thought. "I didn't not enjoy it," he said with a slightly pained expression on his face, as if by admitting it she would never take any of his opinions seriously again.

"You should be a movie critic."

Enjolras just huffed in response, his cheeks slightly pink as he stared a little too intently at the book of baby names.

"Either way," Éponine continued. "We should let him or her pick which movies he or she wants to watch, and then discuss afterwards what the shortcomings of the movie might be."

Enjolras paused his page turning for a moment. "I suppose that would be acceptable," he said quietly without looking up.

Éponine gave him a look.

He put in a valiant effort, but could only ignore her glare for so long. "Fine, it's a better idea than the one I had," he admitted.

"Yes, well I do recall someone telling me that censorship is never the answer…" Éponine replied playfully.

"Fine my idea was horrible. You are right and I am wrong. Does that make you happy?"

"I know you're kidding, but hearing you say that really does make me feel incredibly validated," she said wistfully.

She laid back against the couch as she let herself bask in the glory of winning a debate with Enjolras.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked with only the slightest hint of sulkiness.

"I really am… but unfortunately my shift starts in half an hour, so I should probably get walking," she said mournfully as she started the process of standing up, which at more than 7 months pregnant was not an easy task.

"Hold on, let me get my keys and I'll drive you," Enjolras responded quickly, moving to stand up.

Éponine lightly pushed Enjolras back down on the couch.

"In case you forgot, thinking about baby names was supposed to be a break from working on that essay you have due tomorrow. Besides it's a short walk and I've been stuck inside all day."

Enjolras sighed as he sat back down. He was usually very on top of his school work, but with the baby coming and graduation getting closer it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on such mundane tasks as homework.

Éponine laughed. "If someone had told me a year ago that Sebastian "Education is the Foundation of our Society" Enjolras had caught senioritis I never would have believed them."

"A year ago you wouldn't have known my first name," Enjolras grumbled indignantly.

"I guess a lot has changed in the past year," Éponine mused.

"For the better I hope?" Enjolras asked offhandedly.

Éponine just smiled and leaned down to give him a quick peck goodbye, but before she knew it Enjolras had tangled his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss, pulling her back down on the couch with him.

"Wow, you really don't want to write that essay do you?" Éponine joked once they had pulled away.

"What, I can't kiss my girlfriend?"

"Not when she's running late for work and you have an essay to write."

Now Enjolras really was sulking. Éponine almost laughed out loud at his expression. She leaned down to kiss him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, "Maybe we can pick up where this left off when I get back… if you finish your essay that is."

When she pulled back Enjolras looked considerably more motivated.

"It'll be done by the time I come to pick you up from work," he said quickly, pulling his schoolbooks back towards him.

Éponine just laughed as she waved goodbye, shutting the door behind her.

Unfortunately the motivation she had provided only lasted an hour. And while Enjolras made significant progress on his essay, it was still unfinished when laid his head back on the couch to take a five-minute break and promptly fell asleep.

Enjolras was jolted awake a few hours later by a car alarm going off mercilessly outside the window. It was now dark in the apartment and for a few seconds he was incredibly confused by his surroundings.

He glanced down at his watch and swore. Éponine's shift ended five minutes ago and he had told her he would pick her up. He quickly jumped up and ran to the door before realizing that he should probably bring his shoes and his jacket. It took him three full minutes to realize that his left shoe was underneath the couch before he was finally ready to go.

He knew Éponine didn't really care whether he picked her up or not. She had probably just started walking back by herself the minute her shift ended, but he still felt bad. Especially since it had been a very cold day, and therefore was most likely a freezing cold night. At this point the most he could do was to walk towards the café and hopefully walk her at least halfway home.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts as he barreled out the front door that he barely even noticed the woman staring up at the apartment building. About two feet away from her he froze and turned around to do a double take. The woman turned to look at him as well, and quickly masked her surprise at the sight of him by putting on an expressionless face. For his part Enjolras could barely stop his jaw from hanging open at the sight of her.

He could see glimpses of Éponine in her eyes and the shape of her face. She was looked a lot older than she had in that picture, and probably ten years older than she should. She seemed ragged and worn out, as if she had given up a long time ago.

Enjolras wondered if this is what Éponine would have looked like in the future if she had stayed in her old life, if she had never gone to college and married Montparnasse. He couldn't really imagine it. Something told him that Éponine would have been okay wherever she ended up. But he was glad she had ended up with him.

After a staring contest that lasted about a minute, Éponine's mother promptly moved to walk away without a word. This snapped Enjolras out of his daze.

"Wait, you can't just walk away from her, not again," he called out. She stopped in her tracks.

"I know who you are, Éponine showed me a picture," he said, walking swiftly towards her before she could run away again. "I recognized you from the other day so she knows you saw her. And if you're here again it means that you weren't just catching a glimpse. So why are you here? Do you want to talk to her?"

She just shrugged. "I don't know," she said in a raspy voice that vaguely reminded him of Éponine.

Enjolras felt his annoyance rising but struggled to keep his voice calm. "You don't know… Why did you go through the trouble of tracking her down then?"

Her mother shrugged vaguely. "Maybe I should just go," she rasped. "I doubt my daughter wants to see me."

He didn't know if her flippant attitude was real or just an act, but he felt his anger reaching a boiling point.

"Well, I want to talk to you," he said sharply. The words just came out of their own accord. He didn't even really know what he wanted to say to her, all he knew was that he was angry for Éponine, for the stories he had heard and the ones he hadn't.

Éponine's mother looked shocked for a moment, and then she crossed her arms and stared at him with a challenging look. He tried not to notice how similar she looked to Éponine in that moment.

He swallowed thickly, not really knowing how to start this sort of conversation. So he just said what was on his mind.

"You weren't there for her, you never were," he started softly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "You never saw how amazing she was. You just… didn't understand. You didn't deserve her."

At this he paused, waiting for her to respond, to disagree with him. He didn't know if he should be talking to her before she talked to Éponine, or if this exchange would drive her away. All he knew was that he was angry, and he wanted her to know. He was a little let down by her response.

Through this exchange she was remarkably quiet and composed. Her face didn't betray one emotion, and he wondered if he had gotten through to her at all. She cocked her head after a moment and studied his face. The action reminded him so suddenly of Éponine that he felt slightly off balance.

"Is she happy?"

The question threw him off guard. She simply looked at him waiting for an answer. For a moment he wasn't sure what to say. How could he? He thought Éponine was happy, but he wasn't inside her head, he couldn't be completely sure what she was feeling at all times. Who was he to respond to that question for her? But at the same time, he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

"I think she is," he said softly.

Éponine's mother seemed satisfied, and she smiled slightly. "Thank you," she said quietly, meeting his eyes. For some reason her response caused the anger to flare up in his chest once more.

"Why are you thanking me?" he blurted out, not even really sure where he was going with his words. Éponine's mother raised her eyebrows slightly, but quickly masked any other traces of her surprise.

"It's not because of me that she's happy. I didn't save her from herself or any of that bullshit. I hope I make her happy, and I think she is enjoying our life together. But don't thank me for being the sole reason for her being happy. You don't even know her," he said darkly, his tone slightly dangerous.

"She's an amazing person, somehow, even after all the shit you put her through. I think it's taken her a while to realize that because of how much you and your husband messed with her head. She's independent and smart and witty and spontaneous and amazing and beautiful in so many ways in spite of you. She built up a pretty amazing life for herself with some pretty great people. And then we got together. If she's happy, it's of her own volition. She made herself happy. So for once in your life give her the credit she deserves," he finished, slightly out of breath. He didn't really know where that speech had come from, but he knew that he meant every word.

As he was talking, her gaze had focused somewhere over his left shoulder. At first he thought she was avoiding his eyes. Then he heard a short intake of breath.

Enjolras wheeled around, and there was Éponine. Her eyes looked slightly misty, but other than that he couldn't read her emotions. He could still hear his heart beating in his ears in his quickly dissolving anger.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He didn't know how much she had heard and what she had felt about his words. Or if she was angry that he had essentially yelled at her mother.

Then she smiled at him, and before he could return it she had pulled him into a tight hug, her face buried in his chest. His arms came up around her and he returned the hug tightly.

"Did you really mean that?" she whispered into his ear.

"Every word," he responded just as quietly. He squeezed her a tiny bit tighter in reassurance.

"I'm sorry I came here," her mother interrupted, obviously feeling that she was intruding on something. He felt Éponine freeze, and she pulled away slightly to look at her mother, keeping his arm around her.

"I must admit, I'm not really sure why I came," she continued. "Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was guilt, maybe it was to apologize. And for what it's worth I am sorry. But I think it's probably time for me to go now." With one last look at Éponine, she turned around.

"Wait," Éponine shouted, her voice slightly hoarse. She stepped away from Enjolras' embrace, obviously needing to do this alone.

"I don't know why you came here either. But there are some things I want to say to you. And some things I want to know."

Éponine took a breath, and then paused. She had made this speech to her mother a thousand times in her mind, in her dreams, but now the words weren't coming as easily.

She looked into her mother's eyes and was surprised to see that she was waiting patiently, her eyes clear and expectant. It was a look she had never seen before, and it built up a rage inside her chest.

"Why now? I don't need you now, not anymore," she exclaimed, slightly surprised at how bitter her voice sounded. The cold was stinging the tears forming in her eyes.

"All these years I thought you weren't capable of loving anyone but yourself. And that was almost comforting because it meant that you couldn't have loved us. But since you bothered to come here I'm starting to feel like that wasn't the case. So why weren't you there when I needed you? When Azelma and Gavroche and Jacques and Pierre needed you?" She asked thickly, her voice full of tears. She paused, waiting for a response, for her mother to form some kind of reasoning or excuse. But her mother said nothing, just stood there with that blank look upon her face.

"Why weren't you there?" Éponine repeated angrily, although she was already beginning to lose steam as her sadness started to eat away at her rage. Tears began to blur her vision, and she wasn't sure which emotion was prompting them.

"Because I wasn't ready to be their mom," she said softly, her voice cracking in spite of herself.

"I'm still not ready," Éponine murmured in an undertone. She realized that her hand had found the curve of her stomach of its own accord sometime during the conversation. Her eyes were continuing to water without her permission, angry and sad and embarrassed and rejected tears mixing together and spilling down her face. She felt a comforting hand squeeze her shoulder, and she didn't have to turn her head to know that it was Enjolras.

There was so much more she could say to her mother, so many more accusations and so many more questions, but she realized this was the only thing she really needed to say, to ask.

Her mother was silent for a long while, and for a few moments it looked like she would just turn and walk away. Part of Éponine was expecting her to do just that.

Finally, her mother shook her head dejectedly. "Nothing I can say will make anything better…" she protested.

"Try," Éponine answered, the rage starting to seep back into her voice. "You owe me that at least."

Her mother smiled sadly. "I owe you a lot more than that."

Éponine didn't answer, but instead just watched her mother expectantly. She was silent for a long while. Finally she opened her mouth and spoke towards the ground.

"When I was younger I used to dream of meeting someone who would get me away from everything. From my shitty apartment. From my even shittier father. When I was little my savior was usually a prince. When I got older I just wanted someone with enough cash that we could buy a nicer apartment. Your father fit that bill," she said offhandedly, barely any emotion in her voice.

"I met your father when I was 16. He wasn't particularly nice or handsome. But he said he loved me and he would take me places. He was always good with words, and I wanted so badly to believe him," she said, a note of longing entering her voice.

"And the first few years it was good. We were making money and I had you and your sister. I could ignore his scams and his cruelty. And I loved you, I really did. But then the money dried up, and things weren't so good. Your father's way of getting us money became less about scams and more about crimes. Crimes that didn't just rip people off, they actually hurt people. And I helped him," she stated softly. A hint of shame crept into her voice, and she finally lifted her head to lock eyes with her daughter.

"Deep down I realized the life I had with him was the biggest scam of all. I hated him. And I hated my life. But most of all I hated myself for being an idiot, and for trusting him." She broke eye contact again, staring down at her aged hands.

"I was too weak to leave with all of you. I knew I couldn't take care of you by myself. But I also knew I couldn't leave you there alone with him. There was no good choice, and it all hurt too much. That's when I started using. It was mostly pills, but some harder stuff too. I think you knew that." She took a long pause. Éponine noticed her digging her nails slightly into her palms.

"I felt so much better, because I forgot everything. I forgot about the fake life I was living, I forgot about how much I hated my husband. I forgot how much I loved my children," she said softly, an almost inaudible crack in her voice.

"It wasn't until I went to jail, until I was sober and I was forced to take a look at my life, that I realized what had become of me. What I had done. But mostly what I hadn't done."

Éponine didn't think she had ever seen her mother cry real tears. And while she wasn't exactly crying now she could see the moisture in her eyes. It was more than she expected, and she felt something rear up inside of her. Some urge to hug this woman who had given her life. But then she remembered the way her mother had let that life deteriorate into something unrecognizable. Something Éponine was still untangling to this day. She took a step back instead, farther into Enjolras' arms.

Her mother looked hurt for a moment before letting out a huff of cold air that was visible for only a second before it disappeared into the cold air. For a moment Éponine was taken back to when she used to watch her mother smoke, the wisps rising up and disappearing into the rafters. She could almost smell the menthol.

"I know I can't apologize in any way that would make you forgive me. But I want you to know I am sorry," her mother said softly.

Éponine nodded, gritting her teeth. She didn't really know how she felt about her mother's words. Now that most of her anger was gone, resolve and exhaustion had seeped in. Part of her just wanted to walk away from this conversation and curl up in her bed.

"You do seem different…" Éponine started hesitantly. "But I wish you could have figured this all out twenty years ago instead of in a jail cell. You're not the mother I remember. Then again, I don't think I ever really knew who that woman was. But it's because of her that I can't fully trust any word you say. Because part of me thinks this is all some kind of scam. And the fact that I would think that at all proves why I can't trust you. And I don't want you around my child," she said shortly.

Her tears had dried, and it was starting to feel as though they were never there. She forced herself to look right into her mother's eyes.

"But for what it's worth, I do forgive you for what you did to me. I can't forgive you for what you did to Azelma, Gavroche, Jacques and Pierre. But I forgive you for what you did to me."

Her mother's face was a mixture of shame and relief. "Thank you, that's… much more than I ever could have asked for." Her lips curled into what was almost a grin. "I'll go now, and you'll never have to see me again, I promise," she said softly, tilting her head. "Can you just… can you tell the rest of them that I'm sorry?"

Éponine nodded.

Her mother smiled her slightly crooked smile, then nodded once to Enjolras and once to Éponine, before turning on her heel.

Her mother's footsteps were becoming fainter with every step, but they started growing louder and louder in Éponine's ears. If she just waited a few seconds, her mother would be out of her life forever, and yet there was something was eating at her. A feeling she just couldn't shake. It felt a lot like pity.

"Wait…" she found herself yelling. Her mother whipped her head around and she felt Enjolras tense behind her in surprise.

She walked to her mother, digging around in her purse as she did so. She quickly found a spare receipt and a pen, and stopped to scribble something once she had caught up. She looked up at her mother, who was waiting patiently even though her actions probably didn't make much sense. Éponine didn't know if she was making the right decision, but she shoved the receipt in her mother's hands anyway.

"Here's my email address. In a few months if you're still clean and you're on your feet, you can email me and tell me about it. And I might email you back. And we'll see what happens after that," she said matter-of-factly.

Her mother's eyes widened in surprise. She looked down at the crumpled receipt as she carefully smoothed it out with her fingers. She then inclined her head towards Enjolras, who was still standing a respectable distance away, but following every word.

"He was right you know, I don't deserve you. I think I knew that the second you were born, the second I looked into your face. And you sure as hell didn't deserve getting stuck with a mother like me."

She slowly reached forward, and when Éponine didn't flinch or back away she placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

"You're going to be a great mom, take it from someone who knows what it's like to be a terrible one."

Éponine didn't know if she found that reassuring or not. "Thank you," she answered nonetheless.

Her mother squeezed her shoulder once lightly, then let her hand drop to her side. Éponine wondered if that was perhaps the most affection her mother had ever showed her.

Madame Thénardier carefully refolded the receipt and placed it in her pocket. With one last nod to her daughter, she turned and walked away. This time Éponine didn't stop as she disappeared into the darkness.

Éponine reached up to her face and was surprised but relieved to find it completely dry of tears. She felt Enjolras' presence as he walked up beside her.

She turned to him expectantly but he looked like he was completely out of words, which was an unusual occurrence.

Without thinking much about it she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He seemed surprised at first but soon returned the kiss just as passionately. He looked bemused when she finally pulled away.

"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining," he mused with a smile. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you. For those things you said about me," she said softly.

"It was the truth," he responded, his voice serious.

Éponine felt the urge to correct him or turn it into a joke, but suppressed it. Maybe sometimes it was okay to just accept the compliment. Still, she felt a small blush appearing on her cheeks, so she wrapped her arms around Enjolras and hid her face against his chest.

"Do you think I would have turned out like her? If I had stayed?" she whispered. She was afraid to look up at him, that his eyes would be full of pity or betray an answer she didn't want to hear.

Enjolras didn't hesitate. "No, I don't," he said honestly.

They stood there for a few more moments until Enjolras spoke up, his chest rumbling against Éponine's cheek. "Do you think she'll email you?" he asked a little apprehensively.

Éponine thought about it, but realized she didn't really have the answer.

"I don't know. I don't know if I want her to, honestly. But either way, I think I'll be okay."

Enjolras nodded, and didn't say anything else on the subject.

After a few moments she turned her head to look up at him. "So, did you finish your paper?"

Enjolras winced. "I finished some of it… then I fell asleep and woke up just in time for your shift to end. I was running to catch up to you when I ran into your mother instead."

Éponine nodded slowly, then reached up and grabbed his face with her hands, pulling it down to hers to kiss him once again. It was a fast kiss and she pulled away just seconds after the surprise had worn off enough for him to enjoy it.

"And what was that for?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

"More motivation," she said coyly. "I'm going to eat a snack, then take a shower and go to bed. If you finish your paper before I fall asleep you can join me for that last part." She smiled mischievously, then turned around and ran into the apartment building before he could respond.

Enjolras smiled widely, still a little dazed before his mind caught up with him and he dashed after her. He had a feeling he was about to set a personal record with the speed in which he was about to finish that term paper.

From the shadows Madame Thénardier watched her daughter's boyfriend eagerly reenter the apartment building, a large smile on his face. They really did seem very in love. She couldn't remember her husband ever looking at her with that much affection before. For a moment she wished she could start her life again, and maybe do it right this time. But she knew it was too late. She had already played her hand.

She felt edges of the receipt in her pocket. It had been nice of Éponine to give it to her, it was much more than she deserved. It was a gesture that she never would have able to extend to her own mother and father. She really didn't know what she had done right in creating her. The only reason Éponine had turned out the way she did probably had more to do with her absence from her daughter's life rather than her presence in it.

She pulled the thin piece of paper out of her pocket and stared at the folded crease. For a moment she let herself imagine where that email address could lead her. She could get a dead-end job, a small apartment. She could talk to her daughter every few months; maybe eventually even get a picture of the new baby. After a few years she might even get to see her grandchild, hold it in her arms. Maybe even see her other children.

All she had to do was unfold the paper, and memorize the email address. And that sad little life that she didn't deserve could be hers.

She crumpled up the receipt.

What good could she do for Éponine now? For her grandchild? What benefit would come from knowing a washed-up grandmother whose only real skills were hot-wiring a car and pick-pocketing unsuspecting businessmen?

She held her fist over the wastebasket.

For once in her life, she was going to think of her daughter before herself. She was going to prove she really did love her.

By letting her go.

She unfurled her fingers and watched as her last possibility of happiness dropped unceremoniously into the garbage.

She quickly turned and walked away, away from her daughter. She wiped a solitary tear from her eye and allowed herself a sad, crooked smile. For once in her life she was absolutely certain that she had done the right thing.

Her steps didn't falter. She continued walking until her image was merely a faint outline, and then she was swallowed by the night.