I come to fight. Or at least, to listen.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

~Voltaire~

Musichetta and Joly laid on the sofa, passionately kissing one another. Joly's shirt was unbuttoned, his hair rumpled. Musichettta's dress was slipped off on one shoulder, her updo falling into pieces. 

Naturally, Enjolras was horrified at the sight. He let out a small cry of surprise, and swiftly backed away. Joly looked up at him, speaking breathlessly, "I'm afraid you can't stay here much longer. I proposed to Musichetta, and I think we're going to be living here."  Musichetta's kisses did not subside, interrupting Joly every few syllables. 

Enjolras bounded up the stairs, determined to pack up and leave the house at once. He hastily shoved all his belongings into the portmanteaus, grumbling inwardly about Joly's and Musichetta's display of affection. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to rid himself of the mental images. 

He wondered where he would stay. Marius's home may be open, pray that his grandfather didn't refuse, which he most likely would. He passed Evelyn's room, door half way open. I should probably take all her stuff to her, anyways. I'll stop by the flat first.

Enjolras set the luggage on the hallway floor, and began to pack Evelyn's stuff. The undergarment's drawer was a bit of a hassle, but for fear of seeing Joly downstairs again, he dealt with it. 

He stopped at the bottom drawer, a little disturbed at the contents. His red coat was folded, cockade still attached. Tears and bullet holes dredged up the painful memories that Enjolras was trying to ignore. He forcefully slammed the drawer shut. 

Enjolras was healing, but there was still a long way to go. He knew he wasn't completely at fault for his friends's deaths. However, most of him still felt like it.

Enjolras lugged the suitcases down the stairs and into the carriage, heading for the flat.

...

Evelyn laid on the bed, Caroline under her arm. She felt slightly uncomfortable being in Enjolras's bed. It had been left unmade since the morning of the funeral. Evelyn was mildly unsettled at how much comfort the fact that the bed smelled a little like him gave her. 

She twirled Caroline's dirty  hair absently, making a mental note to give her a bath as soon as possible. Rene sat on the foot of the bed, looking around at the various titles of the many books scattered around the room. He felt awkward, sitting in a rich young man's apartment with his newly-returned sister. Rene wanted to run away. Hell, Evelyn didn't have any problems with it, why should I? Though he couldn't do that to her. Or Caroline. Or to himself. He loved his sister, and to leave her would hurt him as much as it would hurt her. So he stayed. But he wasn't happy about it.

The silence was healthy. It allowed them to get used to each other, and be glad for each other's physical company. Eventually, Evelyn's curiosity took over. "Where was Maman?"

"Jail," Rene responded.

"How long has she been there for?" 

"Year," Rene grunted. He was planning on keeping the responses monosyllabic.

Typical. Evelyn thought. She was still angry about Margot's failure to defend their siblings. It would be a long time before she ever trusted her with them again. 

Instincts kicked in for Evelyn, and she rose to the challenge of being responsible for the kids now. She was determined for them to live the rest of their childhood in greatness. 

Though she wondered if anything was permanent. Enjolras implied that they could stay here for a while, but what would happen when the lease was up? Evelyn would need to get a new job to support the three of them... her head ached from all the logistics.