Even The Darkest Night Will End

Chapter Five: The List of the Lost

Éponine looked up at Enjolras in horror as he rose to meet the stumbling stranger.

Please don't be the police, God, please don't be the police. Éponine thought with her hand over her mouth.

Enjolras returned with a smile on his face, and a familiar member of Les Amis in tow, resting his weight on his shoulder.

Grantaire.

How could ANYONE not recognize such a distinguishable, drunken mess of dark curls?

Éponine sighed in relief and de-tensed her rigid body. She dismounted the small staircase to make room for Enjolras and Grantaire coming down when their dim hiding place came into view.

It was actually more spacious than Éponine suspected, but was filled with crates, most likely full of wine, and an iron safe where the money was kept, all lit by 4 large candles mounted on the wall. The startled remnants of the Amis sat strewn across the hard brick floor. As the trapdoor, closed and Grantaire came hobbling down, they all met him with excitement and relief.

"Everyone!", Enjolras announced, "I thank all of you for fighting with me. This revolution means...so much to me and I couldn't ask for a better group to fight it with. I truly am happy you're all safe!"

"Drink to that!" Slurred Grantaire, hazily opening up one of the crates, causing a dismal cheer to ring out through the Amis.

"Wait", said Combeferre, "can we all have a moment of silence for our fallen, or missing? I do believe they deserve some recognition."

The men suddenly fell quiet. Their pained smiles faded into fearful expressions as they looked around for friends that they'd never see again.

"Do you know who isn't here?" Asked Prouvaire anxiously.

"Yes.", Combeferre responded, "There's a list. I'll go over it after we all rest. We've gone through enough today."

The men then scrambled off to find sleeping places, quietly chattering to each other, inquiring as to their friends' whereabouts while trying to hide how truly scared they were. No matter how much blood they've shed or how many friends they lost, they were still boys. Unfortunately, les Amis de l'ABC had to learn that the hard way.

Not long after the majority of the candles were put out, most of the group was sound asleep on sacks of sand and expensive coffee they had found around the room, with the severely injured, Bahorel and Éponine, on Joly's flimsy, bloodied cots. However, nobody slept well that day. Some of the men tossed and turned with the torture of nightmares, and others curled up in corners and cried themselves to sleep.

Enjolras brooded silently near the staircase, gun in hand, with paranoia keeping him awake. There were flashes of startling images from the barricade playing over and over in his head, driving him insane with the idea that it was all his fault.

Éponine didn't fare much better. She lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, with the fear of losing the only people she truly loved devouring her mind. After long, Éponine's anticipation grew too powerful to ignore. She sat bolt upright and searched the room for the both of them. It was difficult to tell with only one handheld candle lit who was there, so she thought it was okay if she didn't find them yet. Éponine tried to calm down and reassure herself that they were okay, but the only thing that could make her sure at this point was Combeferre's list. She spotted him lying against the crate near the candle, with a sad look on his sleeping face. The candlelight displayed trails of tears in the soot on his pale cheeks and a ripped piece of parchment jutting out of his cap that sat on the crate.

The list.

Éponine's stomach lurched and her heart began to pound.

That piece of paper determined whether her life was still worth living.

She had to have it.

Éponine rose from her cot and tiptoed over to the light of the candle, trying desperately not to step on any of the men. She soundlessly plucked the piece of paper from Combeferre's cap, as she had learned so well to do with money from the dark days of her youth. Éponine unfolded the yellowed parchment in the light of the candle, holding her breath.

This was it.

Enjolras stood up with a start when he heard the slight rustling of sheets from the other room. Since most of the men were on the floor and Bahorel's unmistakable snoring was still audible, it had to be Éponine. He saw her slender silhouette against the dim candlelight, moving towards the light. She lowered herself to where the small flame illuminated her fearful expression and took a folded piece of paper from Combeferre's hat. Of course, the list! Enjolras was disappointed in himself that he didn't see this coming. A lovesick young girl aching to know the fate of the man of her affections. But how could he blame her? Enjolras himself was anxious to know if young Marius was okay. As he directed his attention back to Éponine, he saw her reluctantly unfold the parchment. Instead of crying or smiling, she looked very confused. Éponine tried turning the paper sideways and upside down, but her look of frustration remained.

Enjolras figured now was a good time to step out of the shadows.

"Éponine." He whispered, advancing towards her.

Éponine's head snapped to the side to view Enjolras' approaching figure.

He crouched down in front of her and pointed to the parchment.

"The list?", He barely breathed.

She looked up with the candlelight revealing the deep brown of her eyes and nodded.

Éponine's heart rate went dangerously high staring into the troubled eyes of Enjolras. It wasn't only because of the adrenaline that arose from his sudden emergence from the darkness, but some other electricity surged through her body as well. It felt peculiarly familiar, but Éponine still ignored it. She stared back down at the list and tried to turn the markings on the page into words and people off the paper, but as hard as she tried to remember what each written shape meant, the vague memories of a mediocre, brief education escaped Éponine.

"How could I be so stupid..." She muttered in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Said Enjolras quietly, expecting the worst.

"Nothin'."

"Are you sure?"

"Well...I-I can't...I can't read." Éponine mumbled near silently.

"Oh...I could read it-"

"No, I just need to know about two specific names."

"Which ones?"

"Gavroche Thénardier and-"

"Pontmercy?"

"Yes, him too."

"Fair enough, may I?" Whispered Enjolras, slowly prying the parchment out of Éponine's trembling hands.

As Enjolras read the list, Éponine sat down in front of him, digging her fingernails into her folded legs.

The moment of truth.

Enjolras looked up at Éponine, with a single tear running down his cheek in the soft light.

"Éponine," he said grimly, "I'm afraid little Gavroche has died, and Marius is missing."