Eponine Thénardier (
rudderless) wrote2016-02-21 07:46 am
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For Marius
[Sometime after this]
Eponine is fully braced for the eventuality of encountering Marius after her talk with Gavroche. Preparation cannot fully, however, brace her for the reality of it.
It's an ordinary day, and she's just moved back into her Milliways apartment after a holiday in the Below, when it finally does happen. Marius will note that she seems healthier, more robust, though her eyes...
...Well, those will stay the same.
Eponine is fully braced for the eventuality of encountering Marius after her talk with Gavroche. Preparation cannot fully, however, brace her for the reality of it.
It's an ordinary day, and she's just moved back into her Milliways apartment after a holiday in the Below, when it finally does happen. Marius will note that she seems healthier, more robust, though her eyes...
...Well, those will stay the same.
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She can nearly say it without a hint of poison.
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He doesn't need to know what she nearly did, not when it turned out so well.
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"Then all I can say is that I thank you."
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Half truths all around, but she really doesn't want to admit to her own selfishness, even as she tries to outgrow it.
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"If there is ever anything-- anything at all I may do for you, I hope-- I hope you will not hesitate to ask."
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"Look out for Gav for me, then? If I'm ever not around. He may have another family now but..." Eponine does not, will not, trust in the kindness of strangers again.
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"Thank you, Marius," she says. "I always thought you were the finest of men."
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At Eponine's words, Marius blushes and lowers his eyes. "I little deserve such esteem. I regret a great deal about-- about that night, not least that I could not do more for you, could not help."
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She does smile at what he says. "You did what I asked you to do, didn't you?"
She only knows about it because Gavroche told he what happened to the other her - the her that died in his arms.
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It must be, he supposed, some sign of profound weakness of spirit-- that at so little, at a single question, he finds his mind tumbling back into that haze of fevered grief, gunpowder and blood, Eponine there on the ground where she should not have been at all, and he there, too--
"Forgive me. I should go."
He only knows one solution to the onset of such thoughts, and that is Cosette. To simply be with her, near her, to think of the future instead of the past. But even he knows better than to say that here, now.
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It's so very odd to bear witness to him. Once she thought it would tear her apart, but now.
Now she can almost wave him by without the pain consuming her.