"I'll be home before you know it." he said.

"Time will fly by. You'll barely know that I'm gone." he said.

"I'll call you whenever I get the chance. If I can video chat with you, I'll do that. If all I can do is write to you, then I'll do so everyday." he said.

Seven months ago was when he told her that.

That was the last time she saw him face-to-face, the last time she felt him close to her, where she could feel his fingertips brush against her sides and touch of his lips lingering on her own. The last time she saw him in person, where if she needed him to reassure her of something, regardless of the matter, he could with the sweetness of his words, the gentleness of his voice, the comfort of his embrace. The last time she saw him hug their little boy, using simple words to tell him that daddy was going on a trip.

"Daddy, when you coming home?" the four-year-old asks as his father once more before his father released him of the hug.

"December." he tells him, and places firm hands on his son's shoulders before bending down to his height. "And in the meantime, I need you to promise me something."

The little boy nods, waiting for whatever words may follow. "What, daddy?"

The father looks up at his wife, then returns his focus to his son. "I need you to watch your mother for me while I'm gone. I need you to make sure she doesn't get hurt, and that you be a big boy and do as you're told, helping her around the house when she asks. Can you promise me that?"

He nods in reply. "I promise."

In the moments following, there's an announcement on the loudspeaker, informing them that his plane is about to leave. He gives his son one last hug before moving on to his wife, giving her one last hug, one final kiss on the lips, and then he's gone all too soon. She didn't even have a chance to warn him, to tell him to be careful out there. She watches him board the aircraft with her son, both of them waving back at him as he turns around to wave at them, saying goodbye, before he disappears behind his comrades.

She didn't see him after that, and it took two days for him to make any kind of contact with him, which worried her until the phone rang. After that, he didn't miss a day, whether it'd be calling her, e-mailing her, writing a letter, or video-chatting her.

"Hey, shouldn't you be in bed?" he says during one of the video chats during the second month of his tour. Their son is sitting on her lap, giggling with glee, looking between the screen and his mother.

"Mommy said I could stay up until you could say good night." the boy replies, resting his head on his mother's shoulder.

"She did?" he asks in mock-surprise, and the boy answers with a bouncy nod.

"Yes, she did." she cuts in, messing with her son's curls with the knowledge that he hates it when people mess with his hair as much as his father does. "And now it is time for you to go to bed."

"But I don't want to!" he whines before a yawn escapes his mouth.

"Matthieu…" his father says in a tone of warning. "Listen to your mother."

The four-year-old frowns and does that stereotypical huff of a young child, his blue eyes narrowed in the direction of his father. This doesn't last long, however, and as his father says "Bonne nuit," he waves in the direction of the screen, a grin on his face as his mother leads him to his room.

She disappears for about fifteen minutes, and when she returns, he is still there, waiting for her, his eyes still facing towards her. The brightness of the background allows her to conclude it's daytime where he is, and based upon what he has told her before, it's morning, while outside where she is, it's pitch black. She doesn't care, though, staying up late just to see him, because she doesn't know when she'll be able to do so again.

"Sorry I took so long." she apologizes, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face. "Matthieu was still upset a bit for having to go to bed."

"It's understandable." he replies empathetically, because there have been times where he had the same problem, as well as times where she has gone out to hang out with some of her friends or her sister and she has come home to her husband chasing their son around the house in their nightclothes after a lame attempt to get him to bed. "At least he's in bed."

"Right…" she trails off, biting her lip in nervousness, despite the hint of joy in her eyes, which dart to a photograph by the computer. She opens her mouth to speak, but by the pause in her speech, he says something first.

"Is something wrong, Eponine?" he asks, concern flooded in his tone. She sees the look of worry in his eyes, and she smiles and shakes her head.

"No, Enjolras, everything is fine." she answers, reaching for the photograph that's just inches away. She observes it with hesitation, and has to return her gaze to the screen to make sure he's still there, which he is, appearing as if he was trying to see what she held in her hands. She doesn't blame him though for his curiosity, and a small laugh escapes her lips. "Everything is great. Actually…"

"What?" His eyes are wide with mixed emotion, and she has to stop herself from just blurting it all out, knowing that right now, the information she is withholding from him is killing him on the inside. "Eponine!"

"Calm your anxious butt down and be quiet for a moment so I can tell you." Eponine teases, a smirk on her face. She's got him scared now, most likely, which isn't the best thing for him at the moment, after what he has to deal with on a day-to-day basis. She sees him relax slightly, but he's still tense. "It's nothing bad, if that is of any use."

"Then what?"

"Remember what we talked about a few weeks before you left?" she asks, and he nods his head in reply. "Then, I suppose you remember what we did basically every night the week before you left?"

He nods in reply, a small hint of red appearing on his cheeks, and a part of her swears she hears a wolf-whistle in the background (followed by a "Shut up, Courfeyrac!"). "Of course…"

"Well, this morning, after dropping Matthieu off at pre-school, I went to the doctor's office because lately, I haven't exactly been feeling myself. They ran some tests, and…" she holds the photograph (or more accurately, the sonogram) up enough so he can see it from his side of the screen.

"No…" he gasps, and she nods excitedly. "Oh my…"

"You're going to be a father again!" she officially tells him, and she can sense he wants no more than to be right there beside her, holding her in his arms, to share this together in person. She wants that, too. She doesn't want this division between them, just seeing him through the computer screen. She doesn't want him to be on another continent across the sea, thousands of miles apart. She wants to feel him again, and know he's there to stay, not going anywhere else.

She lets the news sink in for a few moments before daring to speak again, when he asks, "How far along are you?"

"About eight weeks, they estimate." Eponine replies, a small smile upon her face. "Which means by the time you get back, you'll have a heavily expectant wife on your hands."

"Something to look forward to." Enjolras pulls his chair in, closer to the computer. "And I will be looking forward to it."

They both chuckle at this, but then there's a long silence surrounding them before she speaks again, and the mood isn't all-so joyful anymore.

"I really miss you, Enjolras." Eponine wipes a tear from her eye. "So does Matthieu."

"I know." he answers quietly. "I miss you both."

"I worry about you all the time, every second of the day." She tries to hide her falling tears, but it's of no use. "I'm afraid one day you won't call or write or be on the other side of that screen, and there won't be anymore because…Merde, Enjolras, how could I do this without you? How would I tell Matthieu, or explain to someone who you never had the chance to meet that you'll never see them because of this, of what you do?!"

"You won't have to do it without me, because I am coming home." He remains positive, but she can tell that a small part of him is second-guessing that. "I will be coming home five months from now, don't you ever doubt that!"

"How can I after all that the press puts out? How can I after your close call with a bullet to your head?"

"How did you—?"

"Corinne and Azelma!" she snaps before he can finish. "And I'm pretty sure you know who they got that from, so don't try to pretend it never happened!"

"I am still fine in this present moment, and I will be fine all the way up to when I get home, beyond that."

"You can't promise me that!"

"I can promise you that I'll be careful."

She struggles to argue with that, not because it's late at night and she should be in bed, but because at this point, it's all he really can promise. He cannot guarantee he'll make it home, but all that either of them can do at this point is hope he'll come safe and sound.

During the day, she went through her tasks aimlessly but not carelessly, making sure that she did her job right before moving on to another task. She would mop the kitchen floors with the Swiffer, vacuum the carpeted rugs throughout their home, fold her son's laundry as well as her own, among various other tasks.

Being a stay-at-home mom wasn't originally her plan, but shortly before their son was born, she decided it was the best decision for her. It was a decision Enjolras had support half-heartedly for the longest time, claiming that just because she was a mother she wasn't expected to stay home raising whatever children they had, and that she should be allowed to go to work if she wanted to. Eventually, he came around.

She has come across times where she does want to return to her job outside of home, but each time, she counters herself, finding that she enjoyed the anticipation of seeing what her son did in school that day and waiting for Enjolras to return home for a rough day from teaching high schoolers French and American history.

The months come and go, the time growing longer as the days grew shorter. The weather grew colder. Matthieu started kindergarten. The time for Enjolras' homecoming drew near.

Every now and then, she would come across some of her husband's students, or former students, when picking up her son, most likely because they were picking up their younger siblings.

"It's not the same without him." most would say. "It's like without him, school's just…It isn't the same."

"I know what that is like." she would reply.

Almost all asked, "When will he be coming home?"

"December." she would answer.

Not soon enough, she would think.

One night on the video-chat, he was not on the other side of the screen, and her heart immediately dropped, though Combeferre was there. It was apparent he noticed her tears, and it took him ten minutes to get her to calm down before he can tell her that Enjolras in fine, just being checked out after an explosion had occurred close by to where he was surveying.

"He fell from the top of the transport vehicle when the bomb went off and may have hit his head, possible concussion." Combeferre reports, since the tears are finally gone. "Joly's taking a look at him as we speak, and an eye may be kept on him for a few days before he can go back out to the field, just as a precaution, but otherwise he's fine, so don't you worry about a thing. I'll have him call you once Joly is finished with him."

The promise was kept, and it was about two hours later when he called her.

"Take it easy." he tells her when the words come out of her mouth so quickly, almost without taking a breath. "I'm cleared, no concussion or anything or the sort. Stop worrying."

"Stop worrying?!" her voice rises in irritation. "A bomb went off near you. What if you were closer to it? You could have had more than just a hit on the head—You could have died!"

"But I didn't." he states calmly. "I didn't have anything worse than that. I could have, but I didn't. Calm down, because that's a good thing."

She takes a deep breath, letting go, or at least trying to, of the possibility of what she could have lost. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be—you know that." he says softly. "But you should not be stressing yourself out like that. It worries me when you let yourself get so worked up about the small things like that."

"I have the right to be afraid for you, because I never know when we could be having our last conversation with one another."

"You shouldn't have to, and the moment my feet hit American soil, I will never look back, I promise."

"You mean…?"

"I'm going to work on getting myself out of the service soon." Enjolras promises, and through the phone line, she can picture him nodding with a small smile on his face. "No more leaving home, no more nights alone. I'll be there when you go to sleep and still be there when you wake up."

"I would love that."

It was that night in which she dreamt of what it would be like to finally have him home again, to fall asleep and wake up with him there beside her, his arm draped over her to bring her closer. She saw their son being taught how to play baseball by his father while she stood at the sidelines, watching the father and son bond as she held a young infant in her arms.

It all felt so real and when she turned over in bed to tell him of it, she was harshly reminded that he wasn't home, and everything for her became lonely again, even with her son right across the hall and the growing child within her. When she felt the latter nudge when her hand was on her swollen stomach, and a small smile forms on her face.

"I know…Me, too."

The remaining months pass by slowly, her anticipation growing as the day drew nearer. Her son had a wider smile on his face with the knowledge that he was soon going to be able to see his father again soon. She was in a better mood herself, despite her being in third trimester and rather uncomfortable, she tried to make the best of it.

"One more week!" she says in the middle of their conversation during a video chat, and she can tell just by looking at the smile upon is face that he is as equally excited as she is. It's only a few more days of worrying before she doesn't have to fear for his life, a few more long days without him before they can be together again.

"I'm ready for it." he replies, almost as cheerfully sounding as her. "And how about Matthieu?"

"He can't wait." Eponine answers before her hand glides over her stomach. "Neither can this little one."

"Well, I am simply eager to come home, Eponine."

"We can barely wait." she says with a little bit of laughter in her voice. "How are the rest of the boys?"

"Courfeyrac is quite excited about finally being able to meet his little girl for the first time, meanwhile Joly and Bossuet are fretting over Musichetta because their baby is due any time now. Combeferre is glad that he'll be able to see his wife again, while Jehan has something planned for Azelma when he gets home, (and you didn't hear it from me)." Enjolras hints before leaning back in the chair. "In other words, everyone is ready for the journey home. Most of us already have our bags packed, my exceptions being the photographs I have of you and Matthieu, and the sonograms of the baby that you sent me. Our little one certainly has grown, haven't they?"

"Yes, and I've gotten huge." Eponine laughs lightly. She stands up and turns so he can see a profile of her. "I mean, look!"

"You're still beautiful."

"My, Grantaire was right—love has turned you into such a sap."

He chuckles before jokingly saying, "Then I guess I'm your sap."

The week went by more slowly than she felt it ever had. She had the feeling it was never going to end, that it was taking much longer than it should have been. The hours seemed to drag on and on, and it was going on forever. She could tell their son shared the same feeling, just by the way he picked at his food at the dinner table or the way he went about after school had ended for the day.

He called her the day before his flight would leave, reminding her that he might not have the opportunity to contact her during the flight.

She didn't worry so much about him with that knowledge.

Eponine waits in the air base for him with Musichetta, Combeferre's wife, Corinne, Azelma, Cosette, and Courfeyrac's wife, Marie, who is cradling their three-month-old daughter in her arms. Bahorel, Feuilly, and Grantaire wait close by, awaiting the return of the friends who left them behind. She would have brought Matthieu with her, but since he hadn't been feeling well, she left him with a sitter (AKA: Uncle Gavroche).

She can hardly contain herself as the seconds tick by, and she intently stares at the clock, listening for any signs of his plane landing. She must have made her nervousness and anticipation noticeable, for she doesn't realize she's bouncing her legs up and down until her sister places a hand on her knee.

"Calm down." Azelma whispers. "They'll be here soon."

"I know…" Eponine answers with a sigh. "It just feels like it's taking forever."

"That's because it's been forever."

It's about then they hear the plane roaring over their heads, and they all look at each other knowingly, the moment finally arriving. They watch several other families and friends of the other soldiers rush past them, and the trio of men nearly do the same before turning around and assisting Eponine and Musichetta from their seats.

They all manage to see the landing of the plane by the time they get out of empty hanger, joining crowd.

For a distance, she has difficulty seeing the plane unload, and she has difficulty making out the faces as one-by-one, the soldiers and their comrades descend the stairs. She's pretty sure she sees Combeferre, who was difficult to miss with his somewhat taller height, as well as Marius with his reddish-brown hair, and possibly Bossuet, Courfeyrac, and Jehan following close behind. She expects to possibly see Joly and Enjolras with them, but she doesn't, and she begins to wonder if she somehow missed them.

After a few minutes, she sees Courfeyrac standing beside Marie, fawning over their daughter. She sees Combeferre embracing Corinne, not showing any signs of letting go. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cosette run up to surprise Marius and jumps, nearly causing him to fall over. Turning around, she notices Jehan on one knee in front of her sister, who has tears in her eyes and nods, and there's an applause from the viewable Amis. She sees Bossuet placing a kiss on Musichetta's forehead, no sign of Joly anywhere.

Still no sign of Enjolras.

She's no longer wondering, but worrying.

Her first instinct is to call out his name, but with so many voices, her cry would barely make it through the crowd. With that decided, she approaches Combeferre, and when he sees her, the joy on his face vanishes.

She knows immediately that this is not a good sign.