Éponine loved him.
He'd always considered her his best friend. She'd led him to his beloved Cosette, all the while in love with him herself. Marius was stunned.
'I'm so thirsty,' she murmured.
He couldn't resist the pleading in her eyes. This girl-woman, practically his little sister – how had he been so blind? Marius cursed himself for a fool as he realised how much his actions the last few days must have hurt her.

Éponine watched Marius' face as he propped her up against a wall. Tears were in his eyes. Hard stone dug into her back, warm wetness oozed from her wound, and tears stung her eyes. She didn't want to die. Not now. Not like this.

'Enjolras.'
He turned at the sound of his name, called in a small, forlorn tone. Grantaire fought beside him with a musket and an empty wine bottle used as a club. His friend could hold them off for a moment. Enjolras had recognised the voice. Éponine.
He cast about the dark street for a moment before locating her. All else was forgotten.

Éponine was half-sitting against the wall opposite. There was red on her brown, too-big man's coat. He reached her in a moment, boots thudding against the hard street, and realised the red was not a trick of the torchlight. Dark, dark eyes opened and fixed on his.
'Enjolras. You came.'
It was raining, he suddenly noticed. She seemed to welcome the misty chill on her face. The guns and shouting suddenly seemed very far off.
He cradled her head in one hand. Sticky blood coated his fingers – how many times had she been shot? How long could she live? She hissed in pain when he pulled open her coat.
'Don't,' she whispered. 'There's no help. Not now.'
He knew she was right, but he needed to fight her death. To kill this thing that was killing her. It wasn't fair that she'd die now, so young and forlorn and hopeless. Marius was a fool. For himself, he'd known some time ago, quite suddenly, that this small waif off the street held his heart in her hands.
Marius was a fool, and Enjolras determined not to go the same way his friend had.
'Éponine.' He caressed her cheek as she looked up at him, wonder in those big eyes. 'Éponine, I love you.'
Peace came into her eyes. She smiled. Her hand reached to his face, just touched his mouth. Grasping her hand, he kissed her fingertips.
Her body sagged and the spark left her eyes. Enjolras closed them gently, tears running down his face.
There was a movement behind him. Marius stood there with a bottle in his hand. The wetness on his face wasn't the rain.
Enjolras turned back to Éponine, kissed her forehead, and held her for a moment before laying her down gently in the street.
Two young men turned and charged again into the fray. They had a friend to avenge.