The last show I watched before reading this was about nurses in WWI. So, have a bit of nurse Enjonine and wounded soldier Enjolras fluff! Also, this got longer than originally planned…
Eponine stopped in her tracks, setting the metal bowl in which she had been collecting the dirty, blood-stained dressings aside before turning around to face the young man who had called out to her.
“Do you need anything, Lieutenant…?”
She hadn’t been able to memorize the names of all the new patients in the ward yet, but she was sure she wouldn’t forget this one’s easily. Even though he was laying in a hospital bed, his leg splinted and wrapped up in bandages, he still seemed to carry the aura of the battle around him.
“Enjolras,” the Lieutenant said. “Please, can you tell me when I might re-join my battalion?”
Eponine blinked in disbelief and shook her head: “Lieutenant Enjolras, you have just been through surgery to remove several pieces of shrapnel from your lower leg. You’re lucky that you still have need of two boots, and you’re asking me when you can go out there and fight again?”
Enjolras set his jaw, giving her an almost defiant glare: “Is there something wrong with wanting to continue the fight for your country?”
“No,” Eponine replied, shaking her head again, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “it’s just that usually, our patients aren’t that eager to get back to the front lines when they’ve been through something like that. Eventually, yes, but not right away.”
The looked at each other for a moment, and something in that bright, fiery gaze caused Eponine to nod, instead of telling the Lieutenant to put his mind on other, more important things like his recovery: “But I’ll ask.”
Enjolras gave her a small nod in return, his features softening again until he was smiling at her: “Thank you, Mademoiselle. May I ask your name?”
“I am nurse Thenardier. But you may call me Eponine.”
“He cannot be serious about that. I am sure he was joking.”
Eponine chuckled: “While I admit to M. Joly sometimes showing a strange sense of humor, he explicitly told me that yes, this was the criteria for you being released from the ward.”
Enjolras gave her a look that was somewhere between disbelief and shock: “I am to lead you in a dance down the entire length of the ward?”
“Yes,” Eponine replied, and her chuckle turned into an outright giggle, “that’s what he said. Three times, since I didn’t believe him either.”
“Dear God,” Enjolras groaned, letting himself fall back into the pillows, “what kind of hospital did I land in?”
“Only the best army hospital our country has to offer, Lieutenant.”
“Which I won’t dispute, even though it seems to be run by madmen. But,” here, he gave Eponine a small smile, “the nurses make up for that.”
“All right,” Eponine said, crossing her arms and giving Enjolras a stern look, or as stern as possible after that comment, “what do you want? Because one of the first things a nurse learns is that the patients always flirt when they want something.”
Enjolras had the good graces to look at least a little rueful: “Your education was very thorough in all aspects, I see. Could you try and get me some of my books that were left behind with my battalion?”
“I’ll see what I can do. But if I do, Lieutenant,” Eponine said with a grin, “I expect you to be a model patient.”
“Quid pro quo, Mademoiselle.”
“I see you are keeping to your promise.”
Eponine put the glass of water down on the small table next to Enjolras’ bed and pulled up a chair. The Lieutenant had been true to his word, following every order and suggestion the doctors and nurses had regarding his recovery. A recovery which had taken quite some strides, judging from the color that had returned to Enjolras’ cheeks and the upswing in his mood.
While still ever fierce and fiery as the sun, Eponine had come to see, and love, the Lieutenant’s quieter, gentler side. Though of course she kept the bit about love strictly to herself, to the late hours of the night where they belonged, not the light of day. Falling in love with a patient was a silly thing, especially in a war such as this, which took the lives of young men like a reaper cutting down stalks of corn.
“Though you could have chosen some lighter reading for your sickbed,” Eponine continued with a smile. “Did you have aspirations to be a lawyer? Before this?”
“Oh yes,” Enjolras said, putting the book down, “and I still do. Once this war is over and won, I will return to my studies.”
“You seem awfully sure of that. The winning.”
“The republic will prevail, Eponine. She always does.”
Eponine couldn’t help a good-natured laugh: “You have enough patriotism in you for the whole ward.”
Enjolras just shrugged. “So tell me,” he said, the book still resting on his lap, “what motivated you to become a nurse? Did you already hold this profession before the war broke out?”
Eponine shook her head, and pulled at a strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun: “No. I didn’t know what I wanted. Except, well, out.” Catching Enjolras’ questioning gaze, she went on, her voice low: “There aren’t that many possibilities for a young woman from my background. And I didn’t want to end up married to some drunk like my mother. When I saw the signs calling for women to be educated as nurses for the care of the many wounded, I knew it was my chance.”
Enjolras looked at her in silence for a while, then smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand: “I am glad you took that chance. Not just because everyone is needed in this, but because you are a wonderful nurse.”
“Doctor, if you would please start the music? After all, this was your idea in the first place.”
Laughing quietly, Joly put the needle down on the record, and immediately, a soft, slow tune wafted through the ward.
Enjolras smiled at Eponine, gave a slight bow, and reached out for her hand: “If you would do me the favor?”
“Of course.” Eponine could only hope she wasn’t blushing. She knew that she would never hear the end of it if she did, not with half the staff watching.
Gently placing his hand on her waist, Enjolras gave her another smile: “I apologize for any injury I might cause your toes. I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good dancer even before my leg got pierced by shrapnel.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Eponine said hastily, her eyes darting over to where the other nurses were standing before settling on Enjolras’. “If someone’s toes are in danger, it’s yours. I never learned how to dance.”
In the end, they did manage to cross the entirety of the ward without stepping on each others’ toes, though Eponine was sure that their little dance ranked pretty low on the overall elegance scale. Once they were finished, Enjolras let go of her waist and bowed to press a kiss onto the back of Eponine’s hand.
“It was a pleasure, Mademoiselle.”
“I hope you are happy that you can now rejoin your fellow soldiers.”
Enjolras was standing at the side of his bed, dressed in his uniform, the car that was to drive him back to his battalion waiting outside of the hospital.
“I am,” Enjolras said, “although there is one thing I will miss about being an invalid.”
“Oh?” Eponine could feel her stomach flutter a little, but tried to force herself to calm down.
Enjolras smiled and took her hand in his: “Yes. I will have to make do without your care and your company now.” Inclining his head to the side a bit, he tightened his grip a little: “Eponine, may I write to you? That way, I won’t have to miss you all the time.”
“Of course,” Eponine replied, a smile lighting up her face, “and I will write to you, too. Maybe, after all of this is over, we will see each other again?”
“I’m sure of that.” Enjolras smiled and gave her a short wink: “And I do get leave now and then…”
