This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story so, as usual any suggestions on how to improve are welcome.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Hugo's wonderful characters.

"Go away!" Courfeyrac hollered at whoever had the indecency to knock on the door to his flat so early in the morning. It wasn't even eleven yet.

Still, the knocking persisted, growing louder and more urgent sounding. Pulling his pillow over his head, Courfeyrac attempted to block out the noise. Surely if someone needed to see him that badly they would come back later. Unfortunately, the pillow did little to muffle the noise and Courfeyrac knew that soon the knocking would reach a level that would make his landlady screech like a banshee.

He gave a groan of surrender and sat up. "Alright, you win. I'm coming." Not bothering to make himself decent, he stumbled toward the door barefoot, still clad only in his nightshirt, and with his hair sticking up in all directions. Grasping blindly at the latch in his half-awake state he finally managed to wrench the door open and came face to face with Jehan.

"Oh dear," squeaked the poet upon seeing the grumpy expression upon Courfeyrac's face and the general state of disarray he was in.

Courfeyrac eyed his friend's brightly colored, floral waistcoat, tricorne hat, and too-long pants that were cuffed to prevent him from walking on them. "I could say the same," he replied rather rudely.

"I've come to pick up the newest pamphlet and bring it to the printer," Jehan said matter-of-factly, ignoring Courfeyrac's rude comment, "I'm sorry to have woken you." He didn't seem very sorry as he followed Courfeyrac into his flat and began whistling an off-tune rendition of Figaro's aria from The Barber of Seville.

"It's here somewhere," Courfeyrac murmured, shifting through the unfinished essays, love notes, and romance novels that littered his desk. "Aha!" he cried, producing the pamphlet from under a pile of crumpled paper. He was actually quite proud of this one. It was a collaboration between himself and Combeferre on the merits of public education

"There you are," he said, handing it to Jehan with a flourish, "Take good care of my baby, you hear?"

"I fear for anyone who lets you take care of children if you often leave your own baby under a pile of pornographic romance novels."

"Oh, how you wound me!" Courfeyrac clutched at his heart and threw himself dramatically into Jehan's arms.

The poet smiled at the only one of his friends whose theatrics rivaled his own. "Perhaps some tender words shall soothe your aching heart," he said, giving Courfeyrac a loving pat on the head before hoisting him back onto his feet, "Your landlady asked me to give this to you. Poor dear feared waking you I presume." Courfeyrac laughed at his harpy of a landlady being addressed in such a way. "From the looks of the handwriting, it's from a lady."

Courfeyrac took the envelope that Jehan offered him, glanced at the elegant, loopy writing and recognized it immediately. "It's from my sister," he exclaimed before ripping into the envelope. He scanned the page quickly and a grin spread across his face. "She's in Paris and wants to see me!"

"I was under the impression you were not on good terms with your family."

"Not with my aristo parents or my haughty brothers," Courfeyrac explained, glancing up from his letter, "but Angélique is different. She's the oldest of us all and when we were young she was rather protective of me, probably because I'm the youngest. She managed to keep me from getting myself into too much trouble with my father." He smiled fondly at a memory that Jehan assumed was some shenanigan he pulled as an adolescent. "She married a baron or something some years back and had a couple of kids. I've not seen the lot of them in probably three years."

Jehan quietly nodded his head as Courfeyrac once again became engrossed in his letter. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before excusing himself. "Enjolras wants these printed today," he said by way of explanation. He softly closed the door behind himself, leaving Courfeyrac in a much better mood than he found him.

It was about two hours later that Courfeyrac found himself being led into a very elegantly decorated parlor. Upon a high-backed chair sat a petite lady in a tasteful powder blue dress. She was bent over her embroidery, hiding her face with ringlets of the same chestnut brown color that Courfeyrac was so proud of. At her feet sat two children, a little girl of about four years old, still plump with baby fat, and a young boy of six or seven who was entertaining his sister by making sounds for his wooden train set while she watched, captivated, hugging her doll to her chest.

The little girl was the first to notice his presence. She gave a cry of glee and toddled over to him, still clutching her doll. She held her arms in the air, asking to be picked up.

"So you do remember me," Courfeyrac laughed, hoisting the toddler up to rest on his hip, "You were so little last time I saw you, ma petite fleur—oof!" The young boy barreled into Courfeyrac, hugging him tightly about the knees and nearly knocking him off his feet. "You've gotten stronger, Henri! Angélique, as beautiful as ever."

The lady swept gracefully across the room and pulled Courfeyrac into a tight hug. "Armand, ma petit frère."

"I'm not exactly little anymore, Angélique," he corrected, as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"That's what you said last time I saw you," she said, poking him playfully in the shoulder, "but you shall always be my little brother. Now come along, Henri, Rosalie, let your uncle sit." She led him over to a chair beside hers and bade him sit before handing him a cup of strong, black coffee.

"What brings you to Paris, Angélique?" Courfeyrac asked after he settled into the chair and the children returned to their games.

"Jean-Claude is here on business and I decided to come as well," Angélique replied, stirring a large spoonful of sugar into her own coffee, "I really do like the country. The open space and fresh air makes it a wonderful place for the children to grow up, but I do miss the people and the excitement of a big city."

"And the social gatherings as well, I imagine," Courfeyrac teased. His sister was always one to get excited when a ball or other event was to be held.

Angélique gave a good natured laugh. "I admit, I've become less fond of such things now that I've had to host a few myself. I actually intend this to be a rather quiet stay. I shall call upon a few old friends, take the children to the Luxembourg, and just enjoy the city. The only big social appearance planned is that Jean-Claude has agreed to take me to the opera tonight."

They sat and chatted for a few hours, discussing life in the country, some of the latest fashions, and whether or not Courfeyrac would ever sit for the bar. For a while, Courfeyrac even found himself on the floor making train noises with Henri as Rosalie clapped her pudgy hands in delight. It wasn't until a knock sounded at the parlor door that Courfeyrac happened to glance outside and noticed that the sun had long ago passed its zenith.

"I beg your pardon Madame, Monsieur," a timid young girl dressed in a plain grey dress squeaked out, "but I have a message, Madame, from Mademoiselle Odaille. She's fallen ill."

"Oh dear, is it serious?" Angélique asked, concerned.

"No, Madame," the girl replied, looking at her feet, "It's nothing too serious, but she will not be able to work tonight." Angélique thanked and dismissed the girl, before settling back in her chair with a sigh.

"Mademoiselle Odaille?" Courfeyrac questioned.

"The children's nanny." Angélique replied, "A lovely girl. Quite pretty too. Surely you remember her?" Courfeyrac shook his head. "Oh, nevermind. She was supposed to mind the children tonight. It's late enough that I doubt anyone else will."

It was one of those moments when Courfeyrac's mouth worked faster than his brain. "I'll do it," he told his sister, before realizing what he was saying.

Angélique's face lit up. "Are you sure Armand? Have you ever minded children before?"

Now that he was aware of what he was doing he was most certainly not sure, but he could not retract his offer as it would make that lovely smile fall from his sister's face. "Of course I'm sure! I am to make an appearance at a meeting in a café, but they can come as well. It's a nice little place, perfectly safe, and I'm sure they'd love to see some of the city."

Angélique looked wary at her children wandering about Paris without her, even if it was under the protective eye of her favorite brother.

"Come on, Angélique," he said, giving her his best disarming smile, "We'll be fine. Besides, it will be like an adventure, won't it?"

"Oui!" Henri exclaimed, clearly excited, "Please, Maman, can we go with Uncle Armand?"

"Pwease?" Rosalie added softly.

"Alright," their mother relented and Henri gave a whoop of delight, "As long as you're on your best behavior. That goes for you as well," she added to Courfeyrac with a playful grin before pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you Armand."

"It's no problem at all, Angélique," he assured her, adding silently, "How hard can it be?"