And Every Time the Bell Rings, an Angel Receives Its Wings
Save the Girl
The Heavenly Command sends for him in the year 2013, the Christmas season. The subject of the mission is a twenty-one year old girl with roughly-cut dark hair and skin the color of copper. The briefing is relatively simple, a play-by-play of the important moments in her life, and it makes him cringe in horror. But he cannot ignore the call, and with vague orders he plummets to Earth.
You can earn back your wings, they tell him as he falls. Make up for all those years ago. He almost laughs, because he is a fallen angel and he failed. He failed his people and he failed Command, and those losses weigh far too heavily to be nullified.
He arrives in Paris three weeks before Christmas, a sparkling veil of holiday cheer thrown haphazardly across the city. His name is Enjolras, the same as the last time he landed, but his mission is much simpler this time around. Save the girl. Her name is Eponine, she is cold and dark and bitter and she is very important. It shouldn’t be that hard, he thinks, strolling through the streets unnoticed. But doubt snakes through his thoughts, and with it hope. There is redemption. He could be redeemed.
The apartment of Eponine Thenardier, better known as Eponine Jondrette, is located in the eastern slums. The buildings are crooked and faded, some covered in dust, some covered in falsely cheerful paint. Eponine is currently located in the Carlton House, third floor, apartment 328. It is a gray building, crammed into a side street, poorly made and easily forgettable. She walks out of the door as he reaches the sidewalk.
She is quite beautiful, in a fierce unforgiving way. Smudged eyeliner and cheap wine-red lipstick, a black leather jacket and worn combat boots. She stops when she sees him, leaning against the side of the building. “Are you with the agency?” she asks, and her voice is like smoke.
“No.” is all he says.
She raises an eyebrow. “Why are you here then? You’re obviously waiting for me.”
“Is that so?”
She grins, circling him. “You looked up when you saw me. You squinted at your phone, like you were trying to ID me. You made eye contact. You held your position. I assumed that meant you wanted to speak with me.”
“I do.”
“What for?”
“I am here to help.”
She laughs and turns away. “Oh darling, that’s what they all say. Preachers, drug dealers, police. You’re going to have to come up with something better. Time is limited, you know.” A wink, and she is gone.
Not for me, he thinks. I have all eternity, and I will find a way to get through to you.
_________________________________________________________
The mail arrives while she’s away. There’s a letter from the court, empty black letters spelling out “your appeal has been denied”. The children are staying with their biological parents. Eponine has been denied custody of her younger siblings. When she cries that night, it is for the first time in years, and the tears leave little traces of black down sunken cheeks.
_________________________________________________________
He comes the next day, having spent the night at a hotel on the left bank. As soon as she walks out, he confronts her. “I can help you get your siblings back.”
“How the hell do you know about that?” she snaps, grabbing a fistful of his neatly pressed shirt and throwing him against the wall. “Did you go through my mail, you fucking creep?”
“Listen to me. Your parents are planning to break into a house on Avenue de Montmorency in Auteuil at 1:56 AM tonight. If they are caught, they will certainly be found guilty and locked away. You can use it as a chance to get back your brothers and sister.”
She is caught off guard, breath heavy and eyes widened. “Who are you?” she finally says, steady, calculating.
“Take a walk with me.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Somewhere public, if you would feel more comfortable.”
Eponine lets him go. “Fine. But don’t waste my time, pretty boy.”
_________________________________________________________
By 11:30 in the morning, one hour later, they have a plan in place. It’s simple enough. They wait until the Thenardier parents have entered the home and started their task, and they call the cops. The family that owns the home, a rather wealthy couple, is away on vacation and won’t interfere.
They spend the hours until nightfall in the Luxemburg Gardens. Enjolras explains who he is and where he is from, and Eponine responds by rolling around on the grass laughing.
“You… expect… me,” she wheezes, “to believe you’re some angel dude, who belongs to this legion in Heaven that is ‘sworn to protect and preserve humanity’ and all that shit? And they sent you down here to help me? Me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking crazy.” She gets up to leave, still giggling.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Eponine turns. “Alright, so let’s say that God and Heaven and angels are all real, and you guys are like guardian angels, right? You have like an angel army, and you come and help people?” She sighs, jerking a hand through her hair. “Why me?”
“You were in need. It is what we do.” He sits, arms crossed, mouth tight, on the ground in front of her feet.
“You said I was important-“
“Every person on this planet is important-“
“Right, right of course.” She bends down, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Okay. Sure, whatever. What about you, angel boy?”
“Me?”
“No, the angel sitting behind you.” Eponine rolls her eyes. “Yes you, idiot. Who are you? You never really answered that.”
“I am called Enjolras. I used to be a lieutenant in Command. I was downgraded over a hundred eighty years ago, the last time I was on Earth. A mission went wrong.”
“What happened?”
He swallows, watching a group of kids wrestle near a fountain, suddenly reminded of men that were closer than brothers before the bullets and bayonets came. “Have you ever heard of the 1832 June Rebellion?”
“Yes.”
“I was a leader of one of the groups. We were supposed to have a successful revolution, make everything better. Help humanity. But I failed.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Her eyes meet his, the color of smoked amber.
He laughs bitterly. “Perhaps not.” They are silent, the wind whipping through the bare trees, winter’s frigid kiss. Enjolras finally stands up. “Do you believe me now?”
“No.” She says, standing up as well. “But there’s nothing quite like a little make-believe around Christmas.”
_________________________________________________________
The plan goes perfectly. Enjolras calls in an anonymous tip at 2:05 that night, and the Thenardiers are caught red-handed. Within days, Eponine has been awarded temporary custody, and Enjolras finds himself in the unusual position of Christmas shopping. He was sent to Earth with a supply of necessary items such as a large sum of cash, and Eponine takes full advantage of it.
“This is gonna be great.” She throws yet another video game into their already-full shopping cart. “We haven’t had Christmas together in years, much less presents to go with it. Shit!” She turns around so fast Enjolras almost runs into her. “We forgot to get a tree!” He moans, and she slips her hand into his pocket, smiling coyly and removing his wallet. “You aren’t going to use the money anyways.”
_________________________________________________________
He lies awake that night, dreading the moment he knows is coming. You must save the girl.
_________________________________________________________
It happens, as promised by Command, on December 23.
He stirs from a restless sleep to the sound of laughter outside the window. He slips out of the apartment and down the rickety stairs barefoot, heart beating strangely fast in his chest.
Eponine is outside, surrounded by four men in dark clothing, laughing casually as she puffs on a cigarette. He sees her eyes flicker to the side, and he knows that she knows he’s there. The other men don’t spot him yet, thrown into shadow underneath the doorway. “It’s been awhile, boys.” She blows out the smoke jauntily, seemingly carefree.
“We’ve missed you too, babe.” One of the men leans forward, grinning. “But let’s not make small talk, hmm? What do you say to the deal?”
“I give myself up to you, I help you on all your stupid little schemes, I return my parents, I work solely for them and return to the life and you’ll leave my siblings alone? Let them disappear into the foster system?” she asks.
“It’s a promise.” The man replies seriously, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“Alright.” Eponine reaches to shake his hand. “It’s a promise.”
And then the clouds part to reveal a full moon, and everything jolts forward at once.
Eponine twists the man’s arm, grinding the burning cigarette butt into his eye with her other hand and bringing a knee up into the sensitive area of his groin.
Enjolras jumps on another from behind, finding the pressure point on his neck easily and stabbing him there with the pen he had grabbed before leaving the apartment.
The man Eponine has grabbed falls to the ground, and she delivers a single kick to his neck.
The other men start forward, and Enjolras calls for Eponine to close her eyes before he lets go.
Angels were not made to smile prettily from atop a Christmas tree, hands folded in serenity.
They are vessels of war.
Enjolras opened his eyes, the true eyes, and the men cower to their knees. They are knocked unconscious without making a further challenge. “It’s alright, Eponine.” He whispers. “It’s safe to open your eyes.”
She pushes herself off the ground, wiping the dust off her knees. “That was kind of cool.”
“Kind of?”
“Contain your enormous ego, angel boy.”
_________________________________________________________
The police are called. The men are locked away. A bit of otherworldly persuasion convinces the police that Eponine and Enjolras acted purely in defense.
And two days later, it’s Christmas.
In the midst of a rather competitive game of Mariokart, Eponine whispers a soft “I believe you. Thank you.” into his ear. Enjolras grunts as he loses control of the game bike, spiraling into a vat of lava. “Jerk,” He grumbles. “You distracted me.”
“Oh really?” Eponine grins, climbs into his lap, and kisses him heatedly.
“Jesus Christ, guys.” Azelma screams while Gavroche makes puking gestures.
And atop the rather feeble Christmas tree laden with obnoxiously colored ornaments, a small bell could be heard ringing.
Every time the bell rings, an angel receives its wings.
Congratulations, Enjolras. You have been returned to full status, and your wings have been returned to you in gratitude for a successful mission.
It is the decision of the Command that you are to remain in your current position, to protect and help the young Thenardiers, for an extended period of time.
Enjolras kisses Eponine back.
Redemption tastes a bit like peppermint.
You can earn back your wings, they tell him as he falls. Make up for all those years ago. He almost laughs, because he is a fallen angel and he failed. He failed his people and he failed Command, and those losses weigh far too heavily to be nullified.
He arrives in Paris three weeks before Christmas, a sparkling veil of holiday cheer thrown haphazardly across the city. His name is Enjolras, the same as the last time he landed, but his mission is much simpler this time around. Save the girl. Her name is Eponine, she is cold and dark and bitter and she is very important. It shouldn’t be that hard, he thinks, strolling through the streets unnoticed. But doubt snakes through his thoughts, and with it hope. There is redemption. He could be redeemed.
The apartment of Eponine Thenardier, better known as Eponine Jondrette, is located in the eastern slums. The buildings are crooked and faded, some covered in dust, some covered in falsely cheerful paint. Eponine is currently located in the Carlton House, third floor, apartment 328. It is a gray building, crammed into a side street, poorly made and easily forgettable. She walks out of the door as he reaches the sidewalk.
She is quite beautiful, in a fierce unforgiving way. Smudged eyeliner and cheap wine-red lipstick, a black leather jacket and worn combat boots. She stops when she sees him, leaning against the side of the building. “Are you with the agency?” she asks, and her voice is like smoke.
“No.” is all he says.
She raises an eyebrow. “Why are you here then? You’re obviously waiting for me.”
“Is that so?”
She grins, circling him. “You looked up when you saw me. You squinted at your phone, like you were trying to ID me. You made eye contact. You held your position. I assumed that meant you wanted to speak with me.”
“I do.”
“What for?”
“I am here to help.”
She laughs and turns away. “Oh darling, that’s what they all say. Preachers, drug dealers, police. You’re going to have to come up with something better. Time is limited, you know.” A wink, and she is gone.
Not for me, he thinks. I have all eternity, and I will find a way to get through to you.
_________________________________________________________
The mail arrives while she’s away. There’s a letter from the court, empty black letters spelling out “your appeal has been denied”. The children are staying with their biological parents. Eponine has been denied custody of her younger siblings. When she cries that night, it is for the first time in years, and the tears leave little traces of black down sunken cheeks.
_________________________________________________________
He comes the next day, having spent the night at a hotel on the left bank. As soon as she walks out, he confronts her. “I can help you get your siblings back.”
“How the hell do you know about that?” she snaps, grabbing a fistful of his neatly pressed shirt and throwing him against the wall. “Did you go through my mail, you fucking creep?”
“Listen to me. Your parents are planning to break into a house on Avenue de Montmorency in Auteuil at 1:56 AM tonight. If they are caught, they will certainly be found guilty and locked away. You can use it as a chance to get back your brothers and sister.”
She is caught off guard, breath heavy and eyes widened. “Who are you?” she finally says, steady, calculating.
“Take a walk with me.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Somewhere public, if you would feel more comfortable.”
Eponine lets him go. “Fine. But don’t waste my time, pretty boy.”
_________________________________________________________
By 11:30 in the morning, one hour later, they have a plan in place. It’s simple enough. They wait until the Thenardier parents have entered the home and started their task, and they call the cops. The family that owns the home, a rather wealthy couple, is away on vacation and won’t interfere.
They spend the hours until nightfall in the Luxemburg Gardens. Enjolras explains who he is and where he is from, and Eponine responds by rolling around on the grass laughing.
“You… expect… me,” she wheezes, “to believe you’re some angel dude, who belongs to this legion in Heaven that is ‘sworn to protect and preserve humanity’ and all that shit? And they sent you down here to help me? Me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking crazy.” She gets up to leave, still giggling.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Eponine turns. “Alright, so let’s say that God and Heaven and angels are all real, and you guys are like guardian angels, right? You have like an angel army, and you come and help people?” She sighs, jerking a hand through her hair. “Why me?”
“You were in need. It is what we do.” He sits, arms crossed, mouth tight, on the ground in front of her feet.
“You said I was important-“
“Every person on this planet is important-“
“Right, right of course.” She bends down, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Okay. Sure, whatever. What about you, angel boy?”
“Me?”
“No, the angel sitting behind you.” Eponine rolls her eyes. “Yes you, idiot. Who are you? You never really answered that.”
“I am called Enjolras. I used to be a lieutenant in Command. I was downgraded over a hundred eighty years ago, the last time I was on Earth. A mission went wrong.”
“What happened?”
He swallows, watching a group of kids wrestle near a fountain, suddenly reminded of men that were closer than brothers before the bullets and bayonets came. “Have you ever heard of the 1832 June Rebellion?”
“Yes.”
“I was a leader of one of the groups. We were supposed to have a successful revolution, make everything better. Help humanity. But I failed.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Her eyes meet his, the color of smoked amber.
He laughs bitterly. “Perhaps not.” They are silent, the wind whipping through the bare trees, winter’s frigid kiss. Enjolras finally stands up. “Do you believe me now?”
“No.” She says, standing up as well. “But there’s nothing quite like a little make-believe around Christmas.”
_________________________________________________________
The plan goes perfectly. Enjolras calls in an anonymous tip at 2:05 that night, and the Thenardiers are caught red-handed. Within days, Eponine has been awarded temporary custody, and Enjolras finds himself in the unusual position of Christmas shopping. He was sent to Earth with a supply of necessary items such as a large sum of cash, and Eponine takes full advantage of it.
“This is gonna be great.” She throws yet another video game into their already-full shopping cart. “We haven’t had Christmas together in years, much less presents to go with it. Shit!” She turns around so fast Enjolras almost runs into her. “We forgot to get a tree!” He moans, and she slips her hand into his pocket, smiling coyly and removing his wallet. “You aren’t going to use the money anyways.”
_________________________________________________________
He lies awake that night, dreading the moment he knows is coming. You must save the girl.
_________________________________________________________
It happens, as promised by Command, on December 23.
He stirs from a restless sleep to the sound of laughter outside the window. He slips out of the apartment and down the rickety stairs barefoot, heart beating strangely fast in his chest.
Eponine is outside, surrounded by four men in dark clothing, laughing casually as she puffs on a cigarette. He sees her eyes flicker to the side, and he knows that she knows he’s there. The other men don’t spot him yet, thrown into shadow underneath the doorway. “It’s been awhile, boys.” She blows out the smoke jauntily, seemingly carefree.
“We’ve missed you too, babe.” One of the men leans forward, grinning. “But let’s not make small talk, hmm? What do you say to the deal?”
“I give myself up to you, I help you on all your stupid little schemes, I return my parents, I work solely for them and return to the life and you’ll leave my siblings alone? Let them disappear into the foster system?” she asks.
“It’s a promise.” The man replies seriously, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“Alright.” Eponine reaches to shake his hand. “It’s a promise.”
And then the clouds part to reveal a full moon, and everything jolts forward at once.
Eponine twists the man’s arm, grinding the burning cigarette butt into his eye with her other hand and bringing a knee up into the sensitive area of his groin.
Enjolras jumps on another from behind, finding the pressure point on his neck easily and stabbing him there with the pen he had grabbed before leaving the apartment.
The man Eponine has grabbed falls to the ground, and she delivers a single kick to his neck.
The other men start forward, and Enjolras calls for Eponine to close her eyes before he lets go.
Angels were not made to smile prettily from atop a Christmas tree, hands folded in serenity.
They are vessels of war.
Enjolras opened his eyes, the true eyes, and the men cower to their knees. They are knocked unconscious without making a further challenge. “It’s alright, Eponine.” He whispers. “It’s safe to open your eyes.”
She pushes herself off the ground, wiping the dust off her knees. “That was kind of cool.”
“Kind of?”
“Contain your enormous ego, angel boy.”
_________________________________________________________
The police are called. The men are locked away. A bit of otherworldly persuasion convinces the police that Eponine and Enjolras acted purely in defense.
And two days later, it’s Christmas.
In the midst of a rather competitive game of Mariokart, Eponine whispers a soft “I believe you. Thank you.” into his ear. Enjolras grunts as he loses control of the game bike, spiraling into a vat of lava. “Jerk,” He grumbles. “You distracted me.”
“Oh really?” Eponine grins, climbs into his lap, and kisses him heatedly.
“Jesus Christ, guys.” Azelma screams while Gavroche makes puking gestures.
And atop the rather feeble Christmas tree laden with obnoxiously colored ornaments, a small bell could be heard ringing.
Every time the bell rings, an angel receives its wings.
Congratulations, Enjolras. You have been returned to full status, and your wings have been returned to you in gratitude for a successful mission.
It is the decision of the Command that you are to remain in your current position, to protect and help the young Thenardiers, for an extended period of time.
Enjolras kisses Eponine back.
Redemption tastes a bit like peppermint.