Be my guide. (Combeferre)

[followedmyheart]

Cosette revelled in her new dress, twirling around and around like a little school girl with her basket still in hand. She stopped before she felt too dizzy, grabbing onto her father's arm to steady herself, laughing as everything calm back into proper view. It was made from a lovely fabric sent over from England, a luscious purple that made her feel like a queen. Cosette and her father had agreed to go to the local seamstress to make her dress, to support the city they had called home for the last few years. Today was her first day wearing it and she couldn't be happier.
Cosette and her father were handing out alms to the poor this morning, a ritual she had grown accustomed to since they had begun it years ago. She was blessed by the love and comfort that God and her father had given her and it was duty to spread that good fortune among those more unfortunate than she.
Cosette had in her basket several small pouches tied with bits of ribbon. Inside each were several coins and a prayer written on a snatch of paper that Cosette had said for each small bag that she handed out. Although she never knew what became of the alms that she and her father gave, it was enough to see the delight and gratitude on those that received them.
A small blonde girl approached Cosette as her basket was nearing empty. She only had three pouches left. Cosette handed out two to the couple waiting anxiously, a baby in the young woman's arms. She then finally looked down at the girl, who was fervently tugging at her new dress' skirt and saying repeatedly "Ange, ange, c'est moi!"
"Mon petit ami," Cosette smiled brightly at the child in recognition. She had seen her not so long ago, outside her garden gate and given her a loaf of bread. Cosette bent down to the girl's height, remembering that children were less intimidated if they were eye level with whomever they spoke to. The little one's eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but she looked better than when she had huddled up against the wall crying. "How are you today choosette? Would you like my last alm?"
The girl nodded and watched as Cosette reached into her basket and handed her the last little pouch. Her eyes were large and innocent as her small hands wrapped around the offering as though it were from God himself. Cosette glanced at her Papa; had she been this imploringly adorable as a child? It was any wonder her father could resist giving her anything. Cosette wanted nothing more than to sweep the girl up in her arms and carry her home.
"Une minute," Cosette insisted with a sudden idea. She handed her basket to her father momentarily as she took a daisy chain she had made earlier off from around her neck. She made them every day and the urge to give it to this little girl was so strong she had to obey. "Take this too."
She gently dropped the makeshift necklace around the girl's slim head, where it rested homely. Cosette patted the girl on the head saying, "It looks much prettier on you."
Surprisingly, the little girl threw herself at Cosette to wrap her arms around her before shying away and merrily running off. Cosette had been so shocked she had only had time to react involuntarily. She had barely embraced the girl before she was gone, skipping merrily with the pouch gripped tightly in her frail hands. Cosette felt a mixture of pride and motherly love as she righted herself.
"That was my little friend from outside the garden Papa," she told her father as she reclaimed her basket, "the one I gave the bread to."
She watched the little girl dash across the street with a soft smile, her oceanic eyes following the skipping child until she disappeared behind a young man. Cosette trailed her gaze upward curiously to the youth she had ducked behind.
He was dressed well, but not in a wealthy way. The colors he wore were modern and bore pride for his country in soft tones of blue and white. He had a handsome face, but since it belonged not to Marius, Cosette felt no attachment to him. It was the pin held in place on his chest that caught her attention. A bright splash of red, white and blue that spoke of the revolution and dedication that she had seen in this square only once before. On Marius.
Cosette's thoughts went back to when she had last seen him, that May night, with a mixture of horror and admiration. How was it that she had found Heaven - sweet and perfect Marius - amidst the fighting and torch fires of Hell? Had he been injured? Her heart stopped beating at the thought.
"Papa," Cosette reached out blindly for her father's arm, her eyes still locked on the young man across the street. He would know the answers to her questions, surely he was a friend of her beloved!
Her father's arm had tensed underneathe her grasp and he seemed alert at her sudden distraction. She didn't want to worry him and took a deep breathe, attemping to bring calm to her features.
"Papa, why don't you rest? We have had a long morning, and I have one last stop to make in the square. It will only take a few moments; I can join you in the carriage?"
She added a smile to the offer, hoping that her father would take the suggestion. They had had a long morning and he truly did need the rest in his age. She was being completely sincere, even if for ulterior motives Papa knew nothing about. After watching her for a moment, he simply nodded and squeezed her hand for good measure.
Cosette watched his back until he turned the corner to fetch thier carriage before setting her eyes again on the young man across the street. He appeared to have moved a few paces, but was still in the general vacinity of which she had first spotted him. He would surely know about Marius and his well-being.
Cosette, whilst being practiced in many things, did not make a habit of walking around talking to young men. She felt rather nervous at the prospect of not having her father by her side. Cosette inhaled deeply, reminding herself that one of the earliest lessons Papa had taught her was bravery. Then again, Cosette had always been wild and brave at heart. Her curiosity and concern was too great; it overwhelmed her fear.
Checking both ways before making her way across the square, Cosette reached the well dressed young man and touched his arm lightly.
"Pardon Monsiuer," she curtsied properly now that her presence was known, "You were at the parade were you not? With the revolutionaries?"
Up close, she now recalled his face from the group which she had scanned looking for Marius. She had met Enjolras instead.
"Marius and I met this past winter in this very square as it were, we're-" She wasn't exactly sure how to introduce herself in acquaintance to Marius. He was her sun and stars, but that hardly seemed correct wording at this moment. "-we're...I was wondering how he was fairing. We only had a moment to speak at the parade and with the riot..."
She was afraid she might cry. The sudden thought of Marius injured or alone somewhere without help paralyzed her. What if he was in pain? Or needed her at his side. "Please Monsieur, is he alright? What of Enjolras? Or Courfeyrac?"

--------------------------------------

TAGS: Combeferre[/b][/color][/font]
NOTES: I am so excited for this![/b][/color][/font]

[Deleted]

Combeferre was an early riser—he always had been. Sleep was of course something he enjoyed—who did not enjoy the activity of doing completely nothing for several hours? It was also necessary for a healthy body and mind. However from an early age, Combeferre realized that the earlier he rose, the more time he had to read. So he had gotten up quite early this morning, as usual, read Rousseau over breakfast, then shouldered his satchel to hand out alms to the poor on the way to class. He had brought with him some freshly baked bread from the marketplace. He had considered also bringing pamphlets, but he was so shaken up from the incident at the May Day parade that he had refrained.

He did however wear the pin that distinguished him as a member of the ABC Society. He was not a coward, he would wear the cockade with pride. Besides, only a few people really knew the significance of it—even the police wore tricolor cockades. He could simply be a patriotic Frenchman—which he was, they all were. In any case, he did not fear being found out. What he did fear was more violence. Things were getting heated, a woman had been shot, and he knew that the time would come when he would have to decide—along with the rest of their group—whether to take up arms against the king. Combeferre didn’t want to shoot anyone. He was a pacifist, he had never so much as gotten into a fistfight. He would stand with his friends, of course, out of loyalty—as well as the hope that a better world existed beyond the barricade. That was the only way he could justify taking another man’s life.

He pushed such grave thoughts from his mind as he withdrew a few coins from his pockets and handed them to a little boy who approached him with a smile. He also presented him with a generous slice of bread.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur!”

“De rien.” Combeferre answered with a nod as he continued breaking off pieces of bread and handing them to the poor along with his coins. He felt as if he was doing some good to brighten these people’s lives, but he wished that he could do more. No matter how many people he helped, there still would be plenty of people who would go hungry or who had to sleep in alleyways for want of a home. There were women forced to sell themselves because they had no foreseeable future. It made him angry, and that was why he had helped Enjolras and Courfeyrac form Les Amis, to do something about this, to help these people—to give them the opportunities that they, the bourgeoisie, had had. He wished that there was some other way to fix this besides armed revolution and killing in the streets, but he saw no other way at the moment, and because he could think of no better solution, he did not have much of an argument against a call to arms.

His blue eyes glanced about the area briefly, stopping on a well-dressed older man and a young woman with blonde hair. They looked so out of place—then again, so did he. It took him a few moments to realize that they had come for the same reason, which he found rather curious and admirable. It gave him hope that there were still good people in the world. The girl was very pretty, he realized off-handedly, but that was as far as that line of thinking went. There was not a romantic bone in Combeferre’s body. He was not averse to romance in general, it just did not interest him—chiefly because he had known many people in love, and it always caused them to act irrational. He had no desire to join their ranks. His attention was diverted by a girl running behind him and pulling on his coattails. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the gesture. “Bonjour, mademoiselle.” he told the child, turning around and kneeling down to her eye level. “Are you hungry?” At her nod, he withdrew the rest of the loaf from behind his back and handed it to her. His smile grew wider when her little eyes lit up and she hesitantly took the bread from him. “Bon appetite, mademoiselle.” he added, tipping his hat as she ran off happily. He stood to his feet and waited as a carriage rolled past before crossing the street, handing off the last of his coins to an old man sitting in a doorway.

Combeferre was a bit startled when he felt someone touch his arm briefly, but recovered quickly and turned around to see the girl he had seen just a few moments ago. He immediately removed his hat as a sign of respect, brushing a few strands of hair that had fallen over his face out of the way. He bowed slightly in response to her curtsy. He hesitated slightly when she asked if he had been at the parade. He didn’t think her to be a spy—no government spy would be handing out alms to the poor, and he tended to give people the benefit of the doubt—but he had been rather apprehensive ever since the incident. Still, he had the gut feeling that he could trust this girl, whoever she was. It may have sounded silly, but she seemed to radiate goodness. “Yes, mademoiselle, I was.” He blinked in surprise when she mentioned Marius, and as she spoke, he realized that this was this mystery girl he went on and on about. “You’re the one he speaks so highly of.” He could tell that she was worried for him, and despite his annoyance with the boy’s constant lack of focus, he did feel sympathetic for the young woman. “Marius is fine, mademoiselle. We fled the parade together—we and a few of our friends. Enjolras and Courfeyrac are also well.” he assured her genially.

[followedmyheart]

Cosette was gleeful to pass out alms. She had found it enjoyable from her young age to help those less fortunate than hers. Her Papa had taught her well.
She and Combeffere met up often around the different parts of Paris, exchanging smiles and the latest news before passing out alms. Cosette was sure to keep her time with her father balanced, dividing the money equally so that she had enough to give out when she walked with Combefferre and her father.
Cosette was waning on alms. She had been passing them out and chatting with the few she recognized in the square for over an hour. The summer sun was no doubt tanning her face, she squinted up to tell the time from it's position.
A little girl, no more than four, was clinging to the rags of her mother's skirt; her gaze locked on a flower in Cosette's hair. The girl was small, with her eyes slightly sunk in and cheekbones that stood out due to her lack of food. Her hair was slightly curly, but cut in a choppy way to the length of her chin. She was dressed in rags like her mother, her face smudged with dirt. Cosette felt if she blinked the girl would dissolve into nothing.
Cosette reached up to take the bright pink bud out from behind her ear, twirling it inbetween her index finger and thumb. The girl's wide brown eyes watched every movement, fixated on the flower.
"Do you like it mon petite mademoiselle?" Cosette asked, extending her hand slightly. It was a bright pink rose, plucked from her garden in Rue Plumet.
The girl seemed surprised that Cosette would address her. It was rare that high class, or even those living in comfy homes like Cosette and her father, would address the poor. Being raised in a kind and humble home however, she was not one to think herself above others. She viewed every life as a life, not less important or more meaningful than her own.
The little one nodded, gasping as Cosette reached out and tucked it behind her little ear. Her face lit up at once, as though the young lady bestowed a crown upon her head.
"It suits you," she beamed, before pressing a small pocket of coin's into the mother's hands.
Cosette up-righted herself and scanned those around her for Combeferre. Without her father, she relied on Marius' friend to protect her, to be her company. She was by no means clinging to him or a lost little soul without him, but Cosette preferred to be around him.
He was known to his group as the philosopher, the moral compass that kept them pointed in the right direction. There was another side to him. A softer, kinder side that Cosette saw when he passed out alms, when he smiled. Despite being a medical mind, he did not view the world in numbers and logical meanings. He did not see it as a place where he could fix things without caring about them, he longed to touch and absorb what he took interest in: to taste all of it. Some may view Combeferre as a simple sheet of glass, but to Cosette he was a multifaceted. That was one of the reasons she enjoyed his company so immensely.
Among others, she felt highly enlightened by his presence. Cosette was shrouded and often felt like a flower trying to grow in shade. She had not yet taken in all the world she longed to and Combeferre was an endless source of information. Well read and actually living in the world, she constantly questioned him about his experiences and what it was like to have one's own agenda.
Soon they fell into a friendly pattern of give and take. Cosette always feeling she did not have as much to offer, but she gave what she could. He was polite and indulged her visits. They had grown to be friends. She knew that like most of the Marius' friends, he did not enjoy her endless questions about the boy she was in love with, so she tried to keep those to few.
Catching up to her well dressed friend, Cosette looped her arm through his, her alms basket dangling from her other arm. It was easy to fall into step with Combeferre, unlike with Courfeyrac. He was always changing directions and pace, but Combeferre was constant.
"How is your mademoiselle?" Cosette asked lightly.
She had yet to wrangle out of Combeferre whom the young lady was that captured his attention, but she was determined. What was a better mission than one of love? She had suggested that he give his lady love flowers, what young lady didn't like flowers? She had yet to hear how it had panned out.

[Deleted]

Combeferre’s mind was occupied as he handed out alms on the Rue Saint-Denis, and certainly not for the first time. He had walked this way from home to class nearly every day, but it was only recently that it had a special significance in his mind—and his heart. This was where Eponine had told him she lived, yet he never managed to get a glimpse of her whenever he was in the area. He never inquired about it because he feared she would find it strange that he was hanging around her house so often—which it was, he admitted, but in his defense, he had always handed out alms here, ever since he was a boy, really.

After a few chance meetings, he was often joined by Cosette—Marius’s Cosette—as he passed out alms. He accompanied her whenever her father was unable to, since this was not exactly the safest place for a young lady to be walking alone, in broad daylight or not. He did not see it as a duty, in fact, he actually enjoyed her company. He was surprised to learn that she was actually a very sweet girl who genuinely cared about the fate of the poor they met. She would always make inquiries about his well-being, and he about hers, and many times their conversation would drift into matters philosophical and sometimes political, though he tried to avoid that because one never knew who was listening.

She was very innocent and had not seen much of the world—that was clear to him—and for that reason whenever they walked and talked together he was always aware of the thought that this must be what it would be like to have a younger sister. Whenever she was in his company, he felt almost a responsibility for her safety—this was not at all a bad thing. It felt as if he was doing something good, so in all honesty he did not mind their meetings, in fact he looked forward to them. The only thing he did mind was whenever her questions about Marius became tedious. He did not know why he was considered such an authority on Pontmercy’s affairs, by both her and at times Eponine—they barely spoke, despite being in an organization bent on overthrowing the government. He didn’t know why it vexed him so much when they asked about him, especially when Eponine did. Cosette he could understand—they were in love with each other—but was not Eponine his friend? Couldn’t she ask him the questions herself?

His thoughts were thankfully interrupted when a boy he had seen before approached him for alms. He smiled and handed him a few coins and a slice of bread before waving as he scurried away. He looked up as Cosette looped her arm through his and smiled in greeting before considering her question. He had not told her that the young woman was Eponine—in fact for the longest time he denied that there was any mademoiselle—but now, since he was sure of his feelings himself, he saw no reason to conceal them, just so long as the news didn’t spread to the lady in question. “Eponine is well—I just saw her yesterday. We had one of our lessons…Cosette, could you help me with something? I mean to…” He looked around unnecessarily before whispering, “I mean to tell her of my love, and I intend to buy her a gift. I know you said flowers would be a good idea, but I was thinking on it and I don’t think she’d like flowers very much. She’d really have no use for them, I don’t think—I was thinking instead of buying her a new shawl…but I need help picking out a suitable one. Would you be willing to aid me in this endeavor?”

[followedmyheart]

Cosette could read that Combeferre's mind was elsewhere when she questioned him. He had been lost in thought it seemed all morning. While he did focus on handing out alms and bread, the slightest opportunity to daydream rose up and claim him. Judging by Courfeyrac's information, Combeferre was a reference as to what Marius appeared like these days since meeting Cosette. It was no wonder he seemed disinterested in ABC Meetings.
Eponine? Cosette's blue eyes widened slightly in surprise, her small rosebud mouth falling open. She hastily righted her expression, not wanting Combeferre to take it as rudeness. Eponine...Marius' friend? Marius spoke of her often. Cosette had met the girl once or twice. She carried a sense of deja vu with her, but the young maiden could never quite put her finger on what it was.
It wasn't that Cosette thought Eponine did not deserve Combeferre's love, or that he was out of her rank. None of that ever mattered to her. Love was love, no matter where it was found. No doubt they had met through Marius and had perchance interacted at meetings. From what Cosette was told, Eponine was a smart and resourceful girl. It was true what Combeferre said: she would find no interest in flowers. She was a child of the streets and flowers did not blossom in the dirt and alleys of Paris. She'd want something useful...
Yes a shawl! That was a lovely idea.
"A shawl is perfect!" Cosette nodded encouragingly, "it will last much longer than flowers and no doubt come useful when Fall arrives."
Her cheeks glowed a faint pink at the thought of assisting him. Of coarse she wanted to, but what opinion could she weigh for a girl she barely knew? Cosette would have to trust her instincts. Not dwell on what she herself would want, but what she would think that Eponine would like.
"I would be delighted to assist you Monsieur. My feminine knowledge is at your disposal. Why don't we search the shops of the Square after alms? Do you have class?"

[Deleted]

Combeferre didn’t even notice Cosette’s shocked expression, giving him no reason to question it. He was too busy thinking about if Eponine would like his gift. He hoped she would not get offended—she didn’t even want to eat the food he made for her. He attributed that to pride more than anything, but he wanted to stress that this gift had nothing to do with charity, even if it was practical. It was because he loved her. The word ‘love’ had always caused him to either grimace or roll his eyes, but now just the thought of it caused him to grin. When he finally did tell Eponine, he was certain that simply sharing this knowledge would be liberating.

What he did not want to think about was her reaction. If he had it his way he would have just left a letter, but he did not want her to see him as a coward as Mylene had suggested that Eponine would if he chose this course of action. He didn’t know why he was so afraid of this when the day after he told her he would be fighting the National Guard. He smiled wryly at this thought, recalling a conversation they had had about his unfathomable fear of public speaking. He could not—would not—make a fool out of himself.

“That’s what I was thinking—I’m glad you agree.” Combeferre answered with a smile when Cosette approved of his idea for a gift. He realized that they had very different personalities and as far as he knew didn’t even know each other, but he definitely needed help—she probably had a better idea of what looked nice and what didn’t than he did. “Wonderful! Thank you very much, Cosette—and whenever you need my help with anything at all, do not hesitate to ask,” he stated gratefully. At her question, he frowned. He did have class—anatomy—that afternoon. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve taken the liberty of reading ahead so I doubt I’ll miss anything important. Besides, this is my future.” He almost felt like laughing at the change within him—until he had started tutoring Eponine a career in medicine was his biggest aspiration besides winning the revolution. Now medicine was secondary to winning Eponine’s heart—the revolution, in his mind, was second to no one. That was a point on which he would never budge, regardless of whom he loved. “She is far more important to me than any class.”

[followedmyheart]

Cosette liked Combeferre in love. He had always seemed lonely, missing a piece of himself that he had yet to find. Now that someone was in his life, he appeared whole. He smiled more and laughed more; all in all he was a delight to be around. Cosette understood these feelings for she herself had them. She had been a wandering child until Marius had found her. She had never felt lost since that night.
Cosette beamed. Yes - she was liking this cheerful Combeferre very much! He was so willing to make Eponine happy. Love suited him. "Thank you Combeferre. I know I can always count on you, mon amie." She meant it.
She should have guessed that he would be ahead in his schoolwork. While love was an important aspect of his life, so was school and he no doubt wanted to balance them equally. Combeferre most likely read ahead knowing that whatever time he wouldn't be reading he could be spending with Eponine. Cosette shook her head slightly in amusement. Men were such fickle characters.
"France is your future," Cosette pretended to impersonate Enjolras, feeling she had been horrible at it. "Liberty! And freedom! And - whatever else comes to that pretty blonde head of his, I'm not really sure...."
Cosette found herself pondering Marius. Did he too, think she was more important than a simple anatomy class? He must. Marius would move Heaven and Earth for her if he could. One could not look into his eyes and doubt that he loved her more than any law or philosophy book. She was a living, breathing, human being. No seminar could match that.
"We should pick out a color. And a fabric." Cosette started simply, "Eponine wears a lot of greens, from what I've seen of her lately. Sometimes purples. Do you want to go with that? Or a color more out of the ordinary for her? Then there's fabric."
She gestured to a shop window across the street, displaying all sorts of lovely colors. "Cotton, silk, wool. Wool is warmest for winter, but seeing as it's summer it would be unbearably hot. Silk is beautiful, but it's so expensive that I always feel funny wearing it."
"If you want," Cosette suggested, "we can look at patterns too, but let's decide that after a color and fabric. I don't want to confuse you with too many womanly decisions!"

[Deleted]

Combeferre was all too aware of the sudden change that had taken place as soon as he had admitted to himself that he loved Eponine. He did feel happier, more pleased with his life—not that he was displeased before, but the world itself seemed a different place. It seemed brighter somehow, and more exciting. He had always thought about the world that existed beyond the barricade, and how the future would shape itself, but he had never given much thought to his individual future other than the fact that he wanted to practice medicine.

Now his future seemed rather dull unless it had Eponine in it. If by chance he managed to survive the battle—he did not want to think about him not surviving—then he would ask her hand in marriage. As he had told Courfeyrac, this was not simply a youthful dalliance. He would have chosen not to admit it if it was. No, this was much more serious. He had never expected to marry just because it was nothing he ever had an interest in. A wife, he realized, would be a burden—someone his parents most likely set him up with whom he shared nothing in common with, who had no interest in learning or advancement in knowledge. Unless his potential bride had the slightest inclination to read for the sake of erudition, he was uninterested. Looking back it was no surprise that he was taken as soon as his eyes fell upon her reading the book she had stolen from him. A single look was all it had taken.

How silly did that sound? He freely admitted now that he was a fool since that’s what people in love were. He had been mortified at the idea of his reason being seriously impaired, but now he cared little. He was so exultant, so content. Life had been all about attaining as much knowledge before he died and spreading it to others, as well as relieving the people of their plight, but now love was also central to his life.

“No need to thank me—thank you for this. You are a wonderful friend.” Combeferre replied, smiling, after Cosette responded to him gratefully. He chuckled at her obvious imitation of ‘the Chief’ himself. “Liberty, equality, fraternity.” he added, still grinning. His face then sobered as he thought more deeply about her words. “Yes, France is…but I must have a life after the future is won, mustn’t I? And…I just wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t know how I felt about her. Perhaps if she feels the same way…” That, he figured, was a big ‘perhaps’. Had he been clear enough in his interest? Would she be surprised by his declaration? Would it be too sudden? At once he began to feel nervous about the upcoming trial.

“Green would be good, I think. Maybe something similar to what she wears now—but obviously newer. If it was similar at least there’s a greater chance that she would like it.” He rubbed his chin in thought when she mentioned fabric. “Would cotton do, then?” He smiled and nodded a little at her comment. “It is all very intensive to be sure, but I think that I can handle it.” If he could handle Newton and Leibniz, he could most certainly handle this.

[followedmyheart]

"Merci monsieur," Cosette beamed, he had called her a friend. A wonderful friend at that! Cosette turned bright pink. She had never really had a friend before. Her father was a friend, but he was also her father and mother. Marius was her friend, but he was her lover before anything else. Now he was her fiance. The nuns hadn't exactly been her friends...Combeferre was the first.
I must have a life after the future is won, mustn't I?
"Exactly!" Cosette exclaimed exitedly, clasping his hands briefly in her own, "that's exactly how Marius and I feel!" She realized only after she spoke that Combeferre was not overly fond of Marius and might not like being compared to him, but perhaps he would simply take her statement as solace that others felt the same.
She could tell that Combeferre was caught in the nervous pangs of love. The what if? that she herself had faced when she first saw Marius. How long had she sat in her garden wondering if Marius even knew she existed? Did he feel the same way she did? Was he even real? She had basically gone mad in questions until she had finally seen him again at the May Day Parade. It was only when questions were asked however, that they could be answered.
This was merely a trial for Combeferre, only she felt he would pass with flying colors. He was quite a catch, and any woman would be lucky to have him.
"With such a man like you around 'Ferre," Cosette patted his shoulder, "how could she love any one else?"
Green WAS good. It was certainy a color that Eponine liked. Combeferre was right in thinking that they should get something similair to what Eponine already had. She would most definitly like it then! He really was smart.
"Cotton." She nodded, scanning the few shops that thier narrowed down selections had left them, "we should look here."
Cosette guided Combeferre to a simple shop in the square that had been owned by the same family for generations. While it had some silks, most of the linens and cloths within were cotton. In the winter there was more of a wool selection, but now that it was summer, everything from light and gauzy ribbons to cotton wraps could be found. Cosette poured over colors until she found the green section.
After pointing out where they should look to Combeferre, she set about inspecting each shawl. What was closest to what Eponine wore now?

[Deleted]

Combeferre blinked when Cosette said that his comment reflected how she and Marius felt about the future. That wasn’t reassuring in the least…but he realized that being in love wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He had thought it to be a silly notion, a distraction from everything else that he cared about before he discovered his feelings for Eponine. But perhaps it did vary from person to person…perhaps it would strengthen his resolve for the cause. The sooner they won, the sooner he could be with her—that is, if she felt remotely the same way.

That was another thing that he worried about—did she care for him? She had continued to show up for lessons…she cared for him at least as a teacher, maybe a friend—but could she love him? Would she be happy with him? He considered the possibility of rejection once again, and again he realized how much hope he had riding on this. He would find things in his life to distract him if she did reject him, but it would be a huge blow to his happiness.

His fears were somewhat assuaged when Cosette complimented him, and he smiled gratefully. “Thank you—I only hope that she agrees with you.” He didn’t consider himself to be anyone particularly intriguing or special—he wasn’t as passionate as Enjolras or charming as Courfeyrac. Now that he thought about it, he was probably pretty boring. Books were like his companions, and he found a night at home reading over a cup of tea exciting.

He nodded and followed Cosette over to the shop she indicated. He was so glad that she was helping him with this, otherwise he would have found it overwhelming. He had a tailor that he visited every month or so—but this was completely different because he was shopping for a woman, and he didn’t give it much thought. His cerulean eyes inspected the different shawls, unsure which one Eponine would actually like. He would hate to buy her something she thought was ugly. “Which one would you wear?” he asked Cosette, uncertain of where to start.