By the Light of the Stars

[WhoIam]

A/N: It's 12:00 AM, so I have no idea if it's any good or if my brain actually writes good fanfiction this late. And if it's good, it will probably also be depressing. And um, it's about Éponine, using the lyrics of Stars. I played around with the context in some places, because otherwise it wouldn't work.

There, out in the darkness

When did the world become so dark, so cold? Was it when they lost their home? Was it when they couldn't afford a fire? Was it when she forgot what the sunrise looked like altogether?

A fugitive running, fallen from God

Even if the police catch her, she isn't afraid. What does it matter to her, a month in jail or a month free? Prison or Hell, why should she care which is which?

Fallen from grace

She runs until she can't remember where she came from, where she is. “Why doesn't he care for me?” she whispers into her sorry excuse for a dress. “He wouldn't look at her twice if I were as fine as I used to be, with dresses and coats and a fire in the hearth and beautiful dolls.”

God be my witness

She looks around suddenly. Isn't this the church of the Rue Saint-Jacques? This is where she gave the letter to the white-haired gentleman and... his daughter. She can hear Mass being conducted inside, and slowly stands, walking close to the doors.

I never shall yield 'til we come face to face, 'til we come face to face

Monsieur Marius wants her to find the young lady's address. Why does he care for some, some bourgeois girl, who's never had tigers inside her, starving and roaring for food? Who's never felt the weight of her father's hand, who's never had to watch as more priveledged girls played with their dolls and wore fancy gowns? But Monsieur Marius wants her address. If it kills her, she will find the address.

He knows his way in the dark

Monsieur Marius never leaves home before nightfall. Maybe he sees Paris the way she does, ugly and harsh and rough-edged until the night comes to blur the lines between dream-things and real-things. Maybe he sees her the same way. Ugly and harsh and rough-edged.

Mine is the way of the Lord

She wanders around the church, trying to forget that Monsieur Marius wants to know a pretty young lady, but doesn't even care to know her. She paces the grounds of the church, trying to understand; doesn't God say to love your neighbor? And Monsieur Marius wouldn't look at her twice if she couldn't find the address.

Those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

The young lady will never need to steal for bread, will never con her way into wealth. The lady will be with angels; she will be with God, happy forever. The lady will never run so that the police can't find her, and she will be loved by Monsieur Marius.

And if they fall as Lucifer fell, the flames, the sword

They had money, once; her father spent it foolishly, caught himself in debt. And now look at them, dressed in rags and shivering in broad daylight. They will never be like the young lady and her father, warm and comfortable and happy. They are trapped in the mire, the mud of the sewers never completely off their feet, sinking, slowly sinking, as the darkness devours them like the tigers in the pit of her stomach.

Stars, in your multitudes

It's night now, when did it get so dark? The stars are shining in the sky. She's cold, colder than ice. But the stars are colder still, watching from far away and doing nothing. Watching with calm cold cruelty because she could call them to help and they would never answer.

Scarce to be counted

There are thousands of them, but not a star in the sky could come down to save her. Watching her die slowly is good enough for them, isn't it? Some play, like at the theatre, is that what her life is to them?

Filling the darkness with order and light

They're so bright, those stars. She feels she could lose herself in the spaces between them, with only their cold fires to light her way. She could walk beyond the sun and moon, into sweet oblivion and endless darkness.

You are the sentinels

The stars are still cold when she looks out the window of a prison cell. They are as unforgiving as the policemen, as cold as their icy stares, as bright as the tears that never fall.

Silent and sure, keeping watch in the night, keeping watch in the night

They watch when she guards the gate, Monsieur Marius with his young lady. They watch, unmoved, when she sends her father on his way. They don't move to help, of course they don't.

You know your place in the sky

They are still cold and distant, watching her try to be better, watching her try so hard and fail each time.

You hold your course and your aim

They don't deviate from their paths in the heavens. Do they pity her, those cold bright lights? Do they scorn her, do they laugh, knowing she can never be as unafraid and strong as they?

And each in their season returns and returns

She watches the stars come and go, the summer lights approaching as the winter constellations fade. They can fly on wings made of clouds and light. She is trapped, earthbound and caught between crime and love.

And is always the same

They never change, why can't the world be as steadfast as they? Why can't she hold herself true to one course, instead of leaping from one precipice to the next and each time almost falling, the abysses below and above each as cold and indifferent as the other?

And if you fall as Lucifer fell, you fall in flame

What happens if the stars lose their way? Do they fall from the heavens in a burst of light? Do they scar the seamless sky? Or do they simply vanish, as unfeeling and unnoticed as if they had never been?

And so it must be, and so it is returned

She can hardly see the stars when Monsieur Marius finds her on the barricade. But he's here, and that's all she needs. They are all going to die, finally she will not need to see the stars at night and wonder, she will not be able to see them where she's going, but she doesn't care.

On the doorway to paradise

Is Hell so bad as they say? She's the devil, she's a criminal, she brought Monsieur Marius here to die, but she isn't afraid of Hell. She's been in Hell all her life. There's the other place, but she's sure she isn't going there.

That those who falter and those who fall must pay the price

She hesitated before giving him the letter. It's too late, it cannot hurt him to see it now. She will die, and then, so will he, and maybe they will be together in the flames, or maybe he'll be in the stars and she won't ever see his happiness torturing her, laughing in her face.

Lord, let me find him that I may see him

She asks him to kiss her forehead when she's gone. She knows she'll feel it. She knows the stars will disappear for the last night, and she'll finally rest. She might be happy, somehow, in the fire and brimstone, because she won't ever see what she can't have again. She prays, perhaps uselessly now, that Marius will be with her in the fire. That she will find him in the flames.

Safe behind bars, I will never rest

Maybe Hell is like the prison, she thinks, the pain rushing through her once again. She closes her eyes for a brief second. Maybe she'll be locked away forever and she will see the stars anyway, their happy cold brightness shining down on her, blinding her with what she cannot have.

'Til then, this I swear

“And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you.” The truth of it rings in her heart. Perhaps that was what it was; perhaps it was only envy of his happiness; perhaps she will not ever know.

This I swear by the stars

The stars are still shining when her eyes fall closed.

[Aurelia Combeferre]

Very whimsical and sad, AJ.

And now I will not look at this song in the same way again.

[LauraLeZunzu]

Yay, I found it amazing!
I love the metaphores you use:

They are trapped in the mire, the mud of the sewers never completely off their feet, sinking, slowly sinking, as the darkness devours them like the tigers in the pit of her stomach.

More that the comparing with the song, I like the way you write. Keep going!

[IBelieveInYou]

Oh dear the song fits so perfectly... I really loved this, it was so whimsical and bittersweet!

Monsieur Marius never leaves home before nightfall. Maybe he sees Paris the way she does, ugly and harsh and rough-edged until the night comes to blur the lines between dream-things and real-things. Maybe he sees her the same way. Ugly and harsh and rough-edged.

I especially loved that paragraph.
It's very nice to read Éponine's thoughts! Poor girl After all, she had such a complex personality and all the Eppie-boppers ruined it. Glad you're doing her justice!
Apart from Javert, I had always thought of Combeferre having a thing with the stars, but now I can see Éponine too Thank you for that!
Oh God the ending made me cry...

[Lau]

That was a wonderful idea, and a wonderful fanfiction.
It's great to see dear Éponine IC, and I agree with Liv on that paragraph, it's amazing and very... Éponine. And I also loved this part:

Maybe Hell is like the prison, she thinks, the pain rushing through her once again. She closes her eyes for a brief second. Maybe she'll be locked away forever and she will see the stars anyway, their happy cold brightness shining down on her, blinding her with what she cannot have.

You could really feel her pain

[YoungStudentMarius]

Huh. Wow. That was...really creative. And really sad. And really cool. Thanks a lot for sharing AJ; it was wonderfully unique and interesting, and please, don't feel bad about it at all, just keep writing.