Even The Darkest Night Will End

Chapter Six: The Broken Ones

Éponine's mind couldn't process it.

The little blond baby boy her mother had so often shoved into her arms as a child.

Dead.

The beautiful boy with a splash of freckles and bright green eyes that went perfectly with his young spirit. Éponine's one escape from the harsh hands of her father's beatings and men that paid her for her love.

Gone.

"There must be some mistake..." Said Éponine, her voice trembling, as she stormed off to prove him wrong.

She took the candle frantically, searching for people she knew weren't there.

The longer she looked, the clearer it was:

Marius was nowhere in sight.

Nor was Gavroche.

The tears came quickly and heavily.

The sorrow was relentless and had Éponine under its influence in no time. She sunk against the cold wall in defeat and buried her head in her trousers, as she'd done many times before over Marius.

Everything she'd ever loved.

Gone in an instant.

Éponine tried to imagine Marius' arms around her, telling her not to fret and that it was all one terrible nightmare and Gavroche's little golden head in her lap, but instead found their corpses, lying on the barricade all bloodied and distorted.

And she felt it was all her doing.

She regretted not taking good enough care of Gavroche and letting him go off on his own. She also regretted not telling Marius she loved him before Cosette, and letting him go to the barricades. The whole world as she knew it was crashing down upon her and there was no way of stopping it. Éponine wished now more than ever that the bullet she took for Marius would've taken her life, so she could have died happily in his arms, at peace.

Enjolras' whole body was overcome with grief. He shook violently and uncontrollably, and face, once stoic and strong, had been distorted with ugly, silent crying.

They were boys.

Just boys.

Fighting for a simple cause.

Fighting for basic rights that Enjolras convinced them were God-given.

All killed or missing.

Unable to see the light of sunrise.

Unable to see their revolution bring down the monarchy.

Unable to live in freedom.

All because of the false hope Enjolras inflated them with.

He felt little Gavroche's blood on his hands as he wiped his tears away.

And Marius, poor Marius. He had been, yes, a pain, at times, but Enjolras would have his meetings interrupted by Marius' talks of Cosette a million times if it meant having such a dear friend back. Marius was like brother to Enjolras, and the blunder of his unknown whereabouts was enough to send endless waves of guilt pouring into his soul.

In his sorrow, Enjolras remembered Éponine and how she cared so for both Gavroche and Marius, and wept bitterly for her as well.

He remembered her, when she was a couple years younger, slipping into a wide alley and handing little Gavroche a slice of burnt bread. His big blue eyes lit up as he went in to eat his bread, but stopped short and started to cry because he had perhaps burned or bitten his tongue. Éponine then wrapped her arms around the little boy and sang him a lullaby while cradling him in her arms, like a mother would. The song was one of the most beautiful Enjolras' ear had ever come across and the clear, bird-like melody jutted out in his brain to this day.

But Gavroche would never hear his sister's lullabies again.

He felt incredibly sorry for Éponine and could only imagine what she was feeling.

Just then, a series of sniffles, like the crying of a child, came from behind the crates across the room.

Éponine.

Enjolras placed the list back into Combeferre's cap and moved towards to candlelight and Éponine's sobs.

Enjolras found her crumpled against the wall, head in hands, weeping quietly.

As he peered down at her, Enjolras felt a pain inside the very depths of his heart in realizing that everything she had was gone.

Every sliver of hope she'd managed to collect in her sad life:

torn away, because of him.

Enjolras felt like a monster, but also felt compelled to help the poor girl. He lowered himself down and touched Éponine's shoulder ever so slightly.

She jumped in alarm and turned her startled, damp eyes to him, but he told her softly, "It's alright, I won't hurt you. I am, again, very sorry about your brother and Marius." She gazed up at him and then started to cry even harder into her hands, trembling.

Enjolras knelt on the floor enveloped Éponine in a tight, awkward hug, in an effort to comfort her and himself as well.

Enjolras accidentally put his hand on her hair, and jerked away at first, but then realized stroking her hair seemed to soothe her as she relaxed into his chest. A long while after, they were both sound asleep; tears dry, and trembling ceased.

For the first time in many years, Éponine Thénardier slept soundly.