Even The Darkest Night Will End

Chapter Three: The Dawn

Éponine awoke to the sound of heavy cannonfire. As a natural instinct, her upper body lurched forward and her legs swung over the side of her bed. Éponine saw the same makeshift hospital, except with candlelight replaced by beams of daylight escaping through the closed shutters and no sign of Joly or any other patients besides herself and Bahorel whatsoever. Across from her, Bahorel was awakening in alarm, obviously startled by the continuous firing from the outside. Her gaze drifted to the area of slight pain above her right hip where there was a multitude of thick bandages, small metallic spikes, and blotches of dried blood over her father's old shirt.

Éponine rose slowly, minding her injury, and made her way towards the shutter. In the near distance, there was havoc. The sound of cannons and gunfire pierced the air, littered with screaming and the occasional military order. The soldiers hadn't climbed the barricade yet, but were beginning to advance, and les Amis were in a chaotic scramble to hold them back. Éponine scoured the barricade for signs of Marius, but couldn't make him out through the smoke and debris. Bahorel had gotten up and firmly gripped Éponine's shoulder with his unslinged hand.

"'Ponine! What are you doing here?" He said, as she turned around swiftly to look at him.

"I-I can explain!" Éponine stuttered anxiously.

A quick smirk spread across Bahorel's face.

"No need, it was an awful disguise anyway. Thank heavens this godforsaken barricade is full of drunk bastards! It's a shame you had to come in there and save one of 'em though." He chuckled.

Éponine stood frozen, mildly surprised, and also mildly offended by Bahorel's reaction.

"How did you kn-"

"Joly. The man knows everything about everything 'round here."

Out of nowhere, the firing outside began to grow heavier.

Bahorel grabbed Éponine's arm and pulled her away from the shutter.

"Quickly, we need to find a place to hide." He said in panic, rising to search the building.

Éponine crept rapidly behind him, and noticed a familiar mural of mauve grapes, strangely tilted upon the wall.

"Wait." Éponine whispered. "I know this place. I remember my family stayed here for a couple nights for this special con. The owner...he-he had this special compartment somewhere for his select wines and money. I remember it was under-here! It's here under the carpet!"

Bahorel bent down, with trouble, and flipped a little bit of the threadbare rug over.

The fold in the carpet revealed a little square of clean, wood floor and also the corner of a hinge.

Éponine lifted up the rest of the carpet to reveal a large trapdoor.

"Perfect! God, you're a genius!" Exclaimed Bahorel, kissing Éponine's head.

As they both opened the door as quietly as they could, aggressive banging of doors and agonized cries rang out from a couple buildings down. Both of them stood still and listened to the panic outside.

Prouvaire, Combeferre, Joly, and Courfeyrac were knocking desperately on doors for coverage from the National Guard.

The soldiers were closing in.

Prouvaire was crying.

Combeferre was begging for someone to open the door.

Joly was screaming for help.

Courfeyrac was praying for God to have mercy on his soul, in tears.

Bahorel sat before the stairs of the secret room knowing he could escape it all in a minute, knitting his eyebrows in conflict. Éponine put her hand over her mouth as she sobbed herself, hoping that Marius was alright, looking at Bahorel for moral support and finding none.

The knocks kept coming closer.

Prouvaire's weeping grew louder.

Combeferre's blows to the doors grew in desperation.

Joly's screams began to fade out as his voice lost the will to keep sounding.

Courfeyrac's prayers began to plead for his death to be quick and painless.

Soon, they were at the very next building.

Begging.

Screaming.

Crying.

Praying.

Soon, all the sorrow was too much for Bahorel to take. Crying himself, he abandoned the trapdoor, shakily unlatched the shutters to the door facing the alleyway, and climbed out the window to the next building to join his friends.

(This was the very choice that changed everything. In other versions of this beloved tale, Bahorel chose differently.

The following is what would have transpired if he had decided to help the rest of his friends.)

Éponine had wanted to stop him, but it was too late. However, instead of going outside to comfort his friends and go down with their ship as Éponine thought he was, Bahorel had different plans. In a quick burst of movement, Prouvaire had somehow managed to haul himself through the window. Not expecting to see anyone, Éponine jumped up to meet the traumatized, damp eyes of Jean Prouvaire. He sat in his place trembling like a child, studying her with curiosity.

Not long after, the three other men piled themselves through the window, and the shutters were once again latched.

Prouvaire, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Joly, and Bahorel sat there, breathing heavily with the look of sheer terror on their faces.

Éponine looked upon the men and smiled.

"I'm glad you're all safe.", She said, wiping away her tears.

"Safe? How on EARTH are we SAFE?" Said Combeferre with an obvious tinge of panic.

"This building is too far away from the barricade for the police to check, and even if they did, we have a nice hiding place, thanks to 'Ponine." Said Bahorel.

"And where may that be?" Asked Combeferre.

"Downstairs", Éponine replied pointing to the outline of the wooden door on the floor, "there's a special wine cellar down there, and I believe this shop closed down many years ago, so nobody would have a reason to go down there."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and sighed in relief.

"Quickly, we need to get everything downstairs. My supplies, the cots, my pipe, everything. Even if they don't come we need to pretend like we were never here." Said Joly.

"What about the others? Are you gonna just let them die? We still have time, I mean, the soldiers-" Said Courfeyrac cut off by Combeferre.

"They're too far along, if we try to save anyone else we'll all die."

"No!", Protested Éponine, "There HAS to be some other way! We can't just let them die! What about Marius and Enjolras?"

"It's too late...we-we can't." Said Combeferre in rare defeat.

"That's not good enough." Éponine declared, standing up.

Combeferre stood up to his full height above Éponine to try to be more convincing.

"These are our friends too, don't you think we'd go out and save them if we could?" He said.

"But you can", Said Éponine angrily, "so I'm going with or without you."

"Madamoiselle, it's too dangerous, you'll be shot for sure! You musn't go please, I beg of you!" Begged Prouvaire, grasping Éponine's wrist.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm in LOVE with Marius and I'm not just going to let him die." Snapped Éponine, yanking her wrist away and pacing off into the smoke.