Lonely Souls, Chapter Two

Eponine slipped through dark alleys and wandered down lonely streets, the cobblestones cold under her bare feet. She was a child of the night, more at home in the darkness than in the light that revealed her for who she was and brought the looks of disgust from those above her. It was comforting to be hidden… it felt almost like safety. Out there alone, with the glittering stars overhead and the cold light of the moon, she felt peaceful… she felt that she could make it through.

She tilted her head to the silent sky as she trailed her hand against a brick wall, focusing on the feeling of the rough surface beneath her fingertips and the gentle night breeze playing with her hair. These very real, everyday things somehow helped balance the swirling of her mind. She had gone to the Cafe Musain again tonight… as she had nearly every night for weeks. She had gone to be with Marius, but somehow, as they always did, Enjolras’ words had swept her up and carried her far, far away.

He spoke of a hope she had never dared dream of… and of a world she couldn’t begin to comprehend. In this world of his, no one ever went hungry or was beaten in the streets, no one was ever drained of their life blood by merciless taxation. And strangest of all, in this world, everyone was equal… the common gamine… just like her… on a level with the highest duchess. Somehow his words seemed to lift her from the gutter… and they stayed with her now. She didn’t even notice the growling of her empty stomach.

He had spoken to her that night… he didn’t often seem to notice her as she stayed hidden in the corner, always watching and listening with the stealthy silence that had kept her alive for so long. But tonight he had seen her, and he had treated her in such a way that made her head spin. Marius had smiled kindly, had called her “friend”… but Enjolras had taken her hand, had bowed as if she were a grand lady, had called her “Mademoiselle”. He had smiled at the light in her eyes, and he had asked her questions as if she was an equal, talking to her as if she was one of Les Amis. He had spoken to her in respect… not mockingly… and it made her jaw drop.

So intent was she on unravelling the tangled wonders in her head that Eponine forgot to watch where she was going… unusual for a native of the Paris streets, for a girl who had to survive by clawing her way through life, always alert, always on guard. And she walked right into doom in the form of a tall young man who sneered down at her, his features contorted into a twisted, cruel smile.

“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” he laughed riotously as if it was actually funny. She could smell the liquor on his breath and she recoiled instinctively, her heart racing in sudden terror.

“Excuse me, Montparnasse, I’m on my way home,” she muttered, lowering her head and wrapping her arms around herself as she attempted to move past him, but he planted himself firmly in her path. She turned then, hoping she could simply retreat the way she had come and thus avoid him that way. But his hand shot out in a lightning movement, snatching her arm. He dragged her towards him as she tried in vain to pull away.

“Not so fast, my pretty little friend,” he laughed, tilting her face roughly up to his. “I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. Someone else now, is there? A fancy bourgeois boy, no doubt.” That hideous chuckle of his made her soul quake. “You always did know how to pick up the men, Eponine.”

“Let me go, Parnasse!” Eponine struggled harder, almost managing to jerk her arm free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… I do not pick up men.” She spat the words out in disgust. She had done horrible things in her life, she knew… helping her father in his thievery simply because she didn’t know what else to do… but she was not what Montparnasse accused her of being.

He only laughed again… and then he whispered something, his drunken voice quavering. Eponine grit her teeth in anger. This night had been almost the first time in her life a man had treated her with respect… and she had felt a woman then. She would not be dragged back down into the mire… and this… this was a new level, one to which she would never stoop. She went wild.

When she thought back to that night, she was never quite sure what had happened… she didn’t know what she screamed out in her blind rage and fear, or how hard she fought against him, or what exactly he did to her. She did remember being slammed up against a brick wall, remembered the jarring pain of his beating and how she begged him to stop.

And then he was pulled off of her, jerked backward by some unseen force. Left alone, Eponine found her legs no longer had the strength to hold her and she slid down against the wall until she hit the ground. She huddled herself into a ball, a pitiful heap of rags as she wrapped one arm around her aching ribs, the other raised to her head where she could feel blood trickling from a gash in her forehead. And she watched in astonishment as the two figures in front of her struggled wildly in the darkness. She couldn’t make out the face of her rescuer, but he was tall and strong, and more than a match for the slightly-built Montparnasse. It took only a few moments of fighting, and Eponine’s tormentor lay stretched on the ground, insensible. The mystery man stood over him, shoulders heaving as he caught his breath.

He turned toward her then, lowering himself to the ground beside her and reaching out gingerly to take her hands in his.

“Are you alright?”

She recognized his voice even before her eyes focused on the dim outline of his face. Her head was still swimming with pain from the blows she had received, stars dancing through her vision.

“Enjolras…” she choked out his name, her voice barely there. It was more a halting whisper.

“I’m here,” he whispered back. “I’ve got you now.” He scooped her up before she could protest, lifting her from the cold, hard cobblestones. At first she stiffened, wanting to fight him, wanting to make him put her down. But the next moment, all the fight went out of her, and with a shuddering sigh, she went limp in his arms, letting her head fall against his chest. She was so tired, and she hurt so badly… and she was content to let him carry her.

“I’ve got a friend,” he added, almost conversationally as she closed her eyes and tried to listen, but could barely make sense of the words. “Joly. He’s a medical student. He’ll be able to fix you up. You’ll be just fine.”

She murmured something in reply, and heard him go on talking, but she couldn’t distinguish another word of it. Her head felt fuzzy… and then the world went so dark that even the stars were blotted out.