The Darkest Night Will End

The Enjolras Flat, Paris, September 11th, 1831

Enjolras' Flat, Paris, September 11, 1831

Jacquelyn rushed through the empty streets, frustration growing with every step.

Quickly enough they reached their destination, sighing in relief upon seeing the window they were looking for. 

Soon enough they were scaling the wall, balancing the papers carefully in one hand.

Carefully they climbed through the partially open window, "So I was working on this speech, and I need an opinion," They said, holding the paper up, "but Jehan was asleep and Ferre's window was closed and-"

They looked up from the paper to see through the living room into a bedroom where Enjolras was in bed asleep like a normal person tends to be at 1:15 in the morning.

"Oh come on!" They exclaimed, "Why is everybody useful asleep when I need them?"

Enjolras sat straight up in bed at the sound of a loud thump and slightly muffled cursing.

He looked around and quickly snatched up the closest thing to him, (which happened to be a large candlestick) and crept out of his room, brandishing it in front of him like a weapon.

He slowly moved into the living space of his flat, turning around the corner of his desk, only to find Jacquelyn on the floor, clutching their ankle in pain, parchment strewn around them.

"What the hell are you doing in my flat?" he hissed, quickly crossing his arms over his chest, self consciously.

They quickly scrambled up right and grabbed the papers, "uh, it, opinions." they stuttered out, holding up the papers.

Enjolras sighed, "At this hour?"

"Your window was open?"

He sighed again, "Give me a moment," And disappeared back into his bedroom, closing the door, leaving Jacquelyn to silently wonder about his wearing a nightgown.

Jacquelyn had shed their coat and sat down at the little table in the dining room when Enjolras came back, now dressed.

"So what was it that made you climb into my flat at 1 in the morning?"

"I was writing, and I need input and your window was open."

Enjolras shook his head and started moving around the kitchen, "Why were you writing during the night? Tea?"

"Coffee if you have it. It's more productive than just sitting there, and as a plus I'm not stuck with memories." Jacquelyn sighed, squinting at their papers in the dim light of the candle Enjolras had lit.

"Memories?" He questioned, pulling two mugs out of a cabinet and filling them.

"Uh, yeah, just, uh- things that happened up until I've gotten here. It's easier to write than think about things that hurt too much."

He simply nodded and asked, "Cream or sugar?"

"Neither, thank you." They said with a slight smile as he passed them the mug.

"Read me the part you're unsure about?" He asked, returning the smile and sitting down.

They continued to work, Jacquelyn on their speech and Enjolras on a separate project, each providing input for the other, until the sun began to rise, allowing light to fill the room.

Jacquelyn sighed and stood up, stretching and moving over to the window, "Then Dawn rose up from bed with Lord Tithonus, to bring light to deathless gods and mortals."

"What?" Enjolras asked.

"The Iliad has almost 20 mentions of Dawn," They turned to him, face tinted by the pink sky, "Did you know that?"