Éponine/Enjolras

Count the Shadows

By: RvnsDsks

Desperation.

I suppose you could say it was desperation that drove Éponine's actions. She was desperate for love, even though she knew the kind of love she was looking for was impossible. She walked the streets alone at night, never a wise choice "here in the slums of San' Michelle", as Gavroche called them, but no one wanted to mess with a Thenardier, so she was more or less safe.

The rain poured down, relentless, and Éponine shivered, ducking into an alley, hoping for some relief. She took off her hat, wrung it out, then squashed it back down onto her head with a 'humph!'. Not that she really minded the rain. She loved how it made everything misty and sparkling. The pavements shone silver, and the river turned the lights into large balls of color.

She closed her eyes, pretending she had someone with her, holding her close, keeping her warm despite the foul weather. Her heart soared, and she felt a slight thrill at the thought of someday having a man of her own. A carriage rumbled by, splashing muddy water over her, effectively soaking her through and scattering her thoughts. She glanced up at the giant clock tower and cursed. She was late! She jumped, darting out of the alley and sprinting down the street.

"He's gonna kill me", she muttered, as she thought of her father waiting for her with his gang. That thought drummed through her head in time with her beating heart, driving fear through her, and she ran faster, cursing silently to herself. She was so occupied, she slipped on the rain soaked street, colliding with a gentleman who had just stepped out of the building beside her.

Both figures crashed to the pavement, and the man's bag spilled onto the cobblestone, papers becoming dripping strips of useless parchment within seconds. Éponine scrambled back onto her feet, before kneeling back down to help him scoop them up. As she reached for another paper, she couldn't help but notice his money pouch dangling from his hip. She started to reach for it, but suddenly he turned, lifting his head to face her. Éponine felt her breath catch in her throat.

The face staring back at her was partially hidden by dripping wet curls, but she could see the round edges; his dark eyes peering through the strands of his equally dark hair. He was young, that much she knew, and there was a youthful sort of handsomeness that instantly drew her attention.

His lips moved, and Éponine jolted herself out of her thoughts, and tried to focus her attention on what he was saying. "Pardon?" She asked.

"Je suis vraiment désolé. Je ne regardais pas où j'allais."* (I am very sorry. I was not watching where I was going)

"Je m'appelle Marius," he continued. "Et vous êtes?" (My name is Marius. And you are?)

"Éponine." She answered quickly. "There is no need to apologize, Monsieur. The fault was mine."

He smiled at her, and Éponine felt a thrill run through her. She realized she was still holding his papers, and she held them out to him, suddenly shy. He took them, stuffing them back into his bag. "So," he asked casually. "Where were you running off to in such a hurry?"

She started, looking back up at the clock, cursing. "I was going home, Monsieur. I didn't want to be late."

"Let me walk you." He offered. In any other circumstance, Éponine would have refused, but she was desperate, and gave in.

They strolled along the side of the road, with Éponine itching to run. As they turned down the next street, Marius chuckled quietly. "You know, I think we're heading towards my house."

Éponine glanced up at him, then around at the buildings. He was wrong, though she didn't dare point that out to him. These shops that lined the road served as markers, leading the way to the Inn, and Éponine's home.

"There." She said, relieved as she spotted her building, although the fear was beginning to return.

Marius chuckled again. Éponine liked how he laughed. "Looks like we're neighbors."

She nodded, thanking him for walking with her.

"It was no problem, Mademoiselle." He nodded to her, before entering his house, which was attached to hers. Éponine didn't know whether or not to be happy about the fact.

She entered her house, which technically wasn't hers but her father's, bracing herself for what she knew would come. The apartment was surprisingly large, given its small outward appearance. A couch was pushed up against one wall. Over the years it had now become impossible to tell that it was even a couch, let alone what color it was. There was a large gash in one of the cushions, the result of one of her father's drunken rampages, and stuffing bled through the wound.

Scattered around the main room were several sets of chairs and tables, the wood eaten through in some places by termites, and the table's face bore several scars similar to the one the couch had.

Éponine stood in the doorway, her eyes tightly shut, too afraid to move, and too afraid to show she was afraid. The dull thump of a knife blade being driven into the table told Éponine that her presence had just been noted, and sure enough, when she opened her eyes, her father was striding towards her, a scowl on his face.

She stiffened, expecting a blow, but instead, he moved behind her to close the door that she had left open. He made his way back into the room, then sat himself at one of the tables. When she made no move, he glared at her, jerking his head toward the other chair.

Inwardly cringing, Éponine made her way slowly to the table, before seating herself at the chair across from him. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs, and pulled his pipe from his pocket. He lit it, then took a long draft from it before looking up at her with cold eyes.

"How much did you get for me?" He finally asked, his voice low and gravelly from years of smoke and alcohol.

Éponine mentally prepared herself for his reaction, before pulling out a handful of coins and placing them on the table before him. He pounced greedily on the coins, scooping them up into his palm and counting through them. His smile slowly faded as he counted through the coins a second, and then a third time.

His hand formed a fist around the coins and he glared at Éponine. "Where's the rest?" he finally said.

Éponine kept her gaze on the table, not daring to look up into her father's sneering face. "There is no rest, Papa." She whispered. He stood and leaned over the table towards her.

"Then you better go get it, eh?" He whispered dangerously.

She nodded quickly, jumping up from the table and running out the door, down the streets once more. There weren't many people out because of the rain, but she was able to grab a few bags full of coins.

When she finally returned back home, the sky was turning a dark grey, the rain still pouring down. She splashed into the house, hoping to relax a little, but of course, her father had other plans.

"The gang'll be here soon, get ready," he hissed, snatching the bags from her hands. She went up the steps to her room, changing into a dry set of clothes. They were dirty, but the freshness of the cloth against her skin was soothing. Her hat was left on the window sill to dry, and she slipped back into her boots before heading back downstairs.

The gang had arrived and were making themselves comfortable in their own ways, with Montparnasse sitting at the table with her father. They all looked up at her as she entered, and her father starting speaking to the group.

"Everyone here, you know your place. Brujon, Babet. Claqesous." He cast a disdainful look at the man closest to the door, before returning his attention back to the rest of the group. "You, Montparnasse, will watch for the law with Éponine; take care. No mistakes my dears."

Montparnasse fell in step with Éponine as they made their way through the shadows to their destination. "So, 'Ponine," he drawled, fingering his knife lovingly. "We're to be lookouts together." He grinned sideways at her. "Don't go gettin' any ideas now." He raised his eyebrows at her.

Éponine rolled her eyes. "Don't call me 'Ponine, Montparnasse." She snapped at him. "And I'm not the one you should be concerned about." He chuckled, then fell silent as they neared a large, mansion looking house in the middle of the street.

They gathered outside the main gate, and her father whispered instructions to everyone. "Now, the gentleman who lives here just moved in. Still hasn't unpacked all his things, so I figured we'd help him out and lighten his load." He winked conspiratorially, then disappeared with Brujon and Claqesous in tow. Babet went on ahead of them to climb in the house and open the door, and soon it was just Éponine and Montparnasse outside the gates.

Éponine stayed on alert, scanning the streets and ignoring Montparnasse's constant teasing. Suddenly, she heard it. Through the drumming rain, she could hear a different kind of drumming. The distinct sound of leather slapping against the cobblestones.

Éponine motioned for Montparnasse to stay where he was, while she darted through the alleys towards the sound. Sure enough, there was a group of police gathered next to a small shop. They seemed to be discussing something privately amongst themselves, and Éponine could just make out the form of their leader, his back turned to her.

His shoulders were broad, only made wider by his navy blue uniform. He stood tall, and proud, lording himself over his men. Salt and pepper hair was hidden under his tall, wide hat, and at his side, a small cudgel and gun were strapped to his belt.

He turned suddenly, and Éponine pressed herself back into the shadow of the wall. Javert! The most feared man among the streets of Paris. Inspector Javert was known for being ruthless, and extremely stubborn. Éponine had heard that a convict had once escaped Javert years ago, and that even now, Javert was still hunting the man down.

Javert barked an order to his men, and once more they started marching down the street, heading straight in the direction of... Éponine gasped. They were heading towards her father and his gang!

Éponine ran, sprinting and dodging through the alleyways, reaching the rich man's house and sliding to a stop in front of the entire gang, who had gathered again outside the gate.

"There you are, girl." Her father said as she struggled to catch her breath. He started to address the gang, but Éponine interrupted him, ignoring her father's angry glare. He hated being interrupted.

"Papa!" she burst out, breathlessly. "They are coming...L'inspecteur Javert and his men... They..." But suddenly everyone could hear them. The marching of their feet, beating out a rhythm straight toward them.

"Every man for himself!" Her father snapped. "Meet back at the Inn. If you can", he added with a sneer. Then the group was off, splitting into parts, with Éponine racing after Montparnasse into the dark.