Jour et Nuit Étreinte

Chapter 8

However, she did wake up.

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Éponine was holding Enjolras' body close to her as he bled out from another beating from her father, for if you remember this is what Éponine saw as she slept among other things. She was sobbing into his golden curls but his marble features, with the exception of his eyes, showed no emotion - it was always like this though.

Expect recently it changed. She'd whisper, as she always did, "I love you," quietly in his hair just before he took his last breathe and just as he opened his mouth to say something in return he'd die. She'd never know what he was going to say, never know if he loved her as well. Now however he lived long enough to reach his hand up to her and make her look him. His deep blue eyes would lock powerfully onto her tear-filled brown ones and slowly his mouth moved, his words always so quiet that she barely heard them: "I love you, 'Ponine."

You, I'm sure, and I know exactly what had caused this change but poor Éponine does not. However, back to the point.

Éponine was holding Enjolras' body close to her as he bled out from another beating from her father, for if you remember this is what Éponine saw as she slept among other things. She was sobbing into his golden curls but his marble features, with the exception of his eyes, showed no emotion. It was dark as I have said in her dreams, her prison, but as she whispered those words it began to become lighter and Enjolras' body began to fade from her arms.

"No!" she whispered. "No, no, Enjolras! No!"

Her voice began to become more panicked and her tears fell faster - she blinked against them and the growing light. It was a while but eventually a voice reached her.

"Éponine, open your eyes. Please, Éponine. Open your eyes. Come on, come back to us."

She recognised the voice - Enjolras - and as she did everything began to change. The light disappeared again and she became aware that she was lying down on what felt like a cloud, her head was resting on it's side, her right hand at her side, her left raised in the air. She would feel the texture of different materials and of skin - someone must have been holding her hand.

"Éponine, please!" Enjolras voice was slightly more desperate now and she fought were her eyelids which felt so heavy because although he sounded desperate he also sounded in pain - she had to get to him. "'Ferre, go get Joly!"

There was then sound of moving footsteps, hastily moving ones, and then the sound of the door opening and closing but Eponine focused on what must have been Enjolras' hand rubbing circles on her own. Steadily she was winning the war with her eyelids and Enjolras' concerned face and a strange room was coming into view, though it was all blurry. She squeezed her eyes shut against the light and open eyes fully.


Her name was a sigh from the marble man's lips and she looked up at him with wide eyed confusion. She had never heard so much emotion in his voice when he wasn't making a speech. He leant down a pressed a kiss to her forehead and she wondered if he was ill. She looked at him as he pulled back. He did look worse for wear, though perhaps even more handsome for it a voice whispered in her head, with his curls not tied back in his usual style instead falling at his shoulders, they were scruffy as though he had spent a lot of time running his hands through it in the last few minutes and his eyes, as always, burned with whatever emotion he was feeling, at this specific moment concern, but they were on top of dark bags. She frowned at him and, still half asleep, raised a hand up to his cheek.

"You look terrible, Monsieur," she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse and she coughed to try and make it better.

"Why thank you, Éponine," he said with a frown and her eyebrows rose in surprise at the use of her name. "It's Enjolras and try not to talk too much, you've been asleep for over a week."

She just continued to stare up at him. Why the sudden change is attitude to her? Where was she? Why had she been asleep? Her eyes began to flickered round the room and she could feel panic rising in her views - she hadn't been home in a week? Gavaroche! Her father would be furious. She pushed herself up but Enjolras hands were on her arms in a flash pushing her back down and making sure she stayed. She fought against him.

"No, Gavaroche, I have to find 'Roche! I have to - ah!" she struggled against his strong hands but froze as a sharp pain shot through her and she collapse back onto the pillows.

Enjolras released her but his hands hovered as though looking for someone way to help but her mind was now elsewhere. The sharp pain did the job of making her remember though. Her 'customer', her father, being chucked out the house… Enjolras must have found her and with that knowledge Éponine felt her skin darken - how much did he know?

He helped her move into a sitting position and then sat beside her. He must of seen the panic and terror on her face as he opened his mouth but she didn't let him speak instead she asked that final question.

"How much do you know, Mon-Enjolras?" she muttered looking anywhere but his powerful eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," she glared it him dangerously and he sighed heavily. "Why didn't you tell us - Marius? We could have helped you; we could have gotten you out of there. You should have come to us, Éponine, why do did you had to hide this? Les Amis are your friends - I thought you trusted us. Did you think we'd act differently because you were a prostitute?" - Éponine's eyes flickered shut in horror and self-hatred - "Did you think we would treat you like glass if you told us your father abused you?" - he knew that as well, Éponine couldn't help but wonder how he found out so certainly - "We don't care, Éponine, we would've helped you. It wouldn't have reached … this! You would not be lying in my bed because I found practically dead in the street after you got beaten twice in one night, not to mention having been whipped."

His temper was rising and he knew, deep down, that he shouldn't yell at Éponine when she was in such a state but his voice was slowly getting louder. He couldn't help it. Now he knew she was fine, he had way for other things, such as his anger at her for not telling someone.

"Our case is helping people in your station, Éponine, we want to help everyone to have rights and freedom. You should have known we would assist in any way just from that. However, I would have believed the personal relationship all the Les Amis have with you would have made you completely certain. Pontmercy has been worried sick about you this last week! He thought you would tell him things like this, he loves you so much, now he's questioning if it is returned - in his mind, you're his sister.

"Why would you put yourself in harms when you had us just a few words away? Every evening when you sat around in the café, you have told one of us, it would have taken a few words - 'I need help' - anything! You're too proud and pride can lead you to dangerous places... but I suppose you're aware of that now and you shouldn't have learned that the hard way.

"You should have told us, Éponine."

He repeated his message once more, his tone quieting to a hard whisper, just to make it clear to her how he felt about this. He jaw was tight and his eyes were burning with fury at her for putting herself in that situation.

Éponine just looked over at him, a little scared, and just couldn't seemed to figure out how to make her mouth more. A small voice, the one that said Enjolras was handsome dishevelled, whispered that now he knew he would never look at her romantically, though she wondered why that voice thought he ever would. When she eventually did speak it wasn't to answer any of his questions.

"I want to go back."

He stared at her like she was mental.

"Éponine, you hit your head," he began to try and logically talk her out of it but she snapped at him and cut him off beginning to sit up again. He moved to stop her but she threw of her hands.

"Don't tell me about my injuries, I am very aware of them," he was amazed at how threatening she could sound, not that she scared him. "I have to go back. I have to check on Gavaroche, I have to make sure that -"

"Éponine, Gavaroche told me that your father told you never to go back or he'd make sure you did," he forced her to lie back down. "I cannot allow you to put yourself in such high danger and besides I promise Joly that I'd make sure that -"

The door creaked opened slowly to reveal Joly himself with a soft smile on his face.

"Sorry, Enjolras, I knocked but clearly you didn't hear me," he said before turning to Éponine. "How's the patient?"

"Fine," Éponine said harshly, not removing her gaze from Enjolras, a gaze which was a deadly glare.

Joly looked between the two of them. Enjolras who seemed calm and as though nothing was wrong and Éponine who was glaring at him like he'd just committed the most dreadful crime known to human kind - he had definitely walked in on something.

"Enjolras, I hope you're not getting her worked up," Joly frowned over at his friend. "It's not good for her, she shouldn't be doing anything overexerting and overtaxing."

As he finished speaking Enjolras turned to Éponine with the clear meaning of 'see'. Joly realised that he had just dumped himself right in it as Éponine switched her glare to him.

"Perhaps I should go," Enjolras said though from his expression you could tell he didn't want, "let you examine, Éponine. I should check in at the university anyway."

"Yes, go away," Éponine glared at him, though she knew she didn't mean it, she didn't want him to leave but there was no way her pride was going to admit that.

"Might be a good idea, Enj, you seem to stress her out," Joly shrugged feeling bad for sending him away - Marius had told the Les Amis that he thought Enjolras was in love Éponine under the strict words that they didn't say anything to Enjolras or Éponine respectively.

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