Jean Prouvaire glanced outside the window of the Café Musain looking for poetic inspiration, and spotted a raincloud down on the street, trailing morosely behind an effusive ray of sunshine.

He leaned back in his chair, bewildered. He knew the two of them very well, and usually he was a bit less gushy and she was a bit less gloomy, though it was typical that he seemed entirely oblivious to her frame of mind. They were lost to his view as they entered the front door of the café, and he would have to wait a few moments to find out what was going on.

The sunshine's name was Marius, and the raincloud's name was Éponine.

Jean Prouvaire, or Jehan as he liked to be called, turned back to the gathering of his friends who were lounging about the room engaged in conversations ranging from the philosophy behind the tax debate to Courfeyrac's latest crush. He took a swig of his café au lait, and at that moment the door burst open. Marius, his face positively beaming beneath his upswept hair, was met by a chorus of boisterous greetings. However, now that Jehan could see him closer, he thought that Marius looked a little pale, almost as if he were in a daze of delirious happiness.

"Pontmercy!" Courfeyrac stood to greet Marius, clapping him on the back. "What's up, bud?"

Jehan, wondering where Éponine had gone off to, shared a look with Joly, who was sitting beside him. He could see the wheels in Joly's medical mind spinning as he scrambled to find a diagnosis that would explain Marius' strange "condition."

"'What's up?' I think you mean 'what is the matter with you?'" said Joly, jovial but with a hint of concern. "God, Marius, you look like you saw a ghost."

Marius grinned wider, swept a hand through his hair in an embarrassed sort of way, and sat down in the chair between Courfeyrac and Feuilly.

"I think we ought to get started, now that we're all present—" Combeferre began, adjusting his stylish glasses. Enjolras, sitting beside his right-hand-man, was shuffling through some papers and hadn't looked up until Combeferre said this, and he now nodded in agreement.

But Grantaire called out from his corner, "Hang on, 'Ferre, Marius has a story and I want to hear it! Somebody get the man a drink."

"God, that's the last thing I need," Marius laughed. "But I think I may have seen a ghost. She looked at me, our eyes met, and I…" He spluttered for a second, then rubbed his forehead when he was unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Well I'll be damned," Grantaire said, grinning impishly. "Why didn't you bring her along?"

"Well, I haven't exactly…met her yet," said Marius. "Like Joly said, she was a ghost! She practically disappeared! But god, was she gorgeous."

The room erupted with hoots as they began ribbing Marius about this mysterious girl, but Jehan noticed that as he'd spoken these last words, Éponine had quietly come to the doorway. She wasn't one to run from her problems, but she had heard what Marius had said and almost, it seemed, turned and fled.

Small wonder why.

Jehan had known since the first time he saw her that Éponine, poor girl, was very much in love with Marius. She'd stood beside him on her first day at a meeting of Les Amis de l'ABC, and whenever he had looked down at her or spoke to her, her eyes would light up like a sunrise. It was subtle enough that the rest of them probably hadn't noticed—and Marius himself was still clueless—but Jehan was extraordinarily perceptive. He supposed he had gained this skill in some way from all the time he spent pouring over his books and poetry; one could learn to obtain all sorts of information through reading, whether the subject to be read be words or people. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that he was a quiet fellow, and more frequently chose to observe and listen than to make himself heard. Regardless, the look of joyful awe in her eyes at Marius' casual attentions towards her was more than enough for Jehan to infer how she felt.

Jehan doubted he had been the only one to be a little disappointed upon realizing the girl had eyes only for Marius. Éponine wasn't exactly beautiful in a classical sense, and nothing about her recalled the dainty, delicate, doe-eyed women praised in poetry or depicted by the great painters. Minimal makeup, an eclectic penchant for metal rings, a tattoo on her right tricep, and dressing in plain t-shirts, worn-out jeans, and a clunky pair of black lace-up boots—there was a definite toughness about her, not only her physical appearance but her demeanor as well. Her left boot had silver duct tape wrapped around the toe, though to make some kind of statement or to keep it from falling apart, Jehan couldn't tell and hadn't asked. She wasn't wealthy, that much was certain. Normally he might have found her tomboy style to be off-putting, but somehow he could tell she wasn't thinking much about it herself. Or at least, it didn't cross her mind that others might be paying attention to the way she looked.

But she was undeniably attractive. Her thick, dark chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves, and her tanned skin appeared as though it had borrowed warmth from the autumn sun. She had a square face and a strong jawline, expressive, defined eyebrows and a blunt nose and shapely lips. He noticed she had a tendency to keep her head tilted slightly downward, but her eyes were always alert, darting to every sound. Eyes like hers were only comparable to gems, that they could be at once so dark and so dazzling.

Jehan had been a little bit mesmerized by her.

But, she was smitten with Marius, though Jehan wasn't certain why, and now as she stood in the doorway and listened to him sing praises to this girl he had never even met, there was something far deeper than sadness in her eyes that tugged at Jehan's heartstrings.

Éponine looked around the room and met his eyes. He waved at her and she gave him one of her endearing, bedimpled smiles, which was rendered heartbreaking because it contrasted so starkly with her obvious melancholy. Jehan thought she was about to join him by the window but at that moment, Marius spotted her in the doorway and called out to her.

"'Ponine, there you are!" he said, waving her over. The other Amis noticed her for the first time and they all greeted her cheerfully. She grinned at them; all but a faint trace of her heavy heart was hidden by her laid-back aplomb. When she reached Marius, he clapped her on the shoulder and continued, speaking to the group. "Éponine was there with me when we saw her. You know what I mean, 'Ponine, wasn't she stunning?"

Éponine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she was a peach, Marius," she said in her charming, husky lilt, though her voice was laced with exasperation. "But I think you've beat the subject to death by now."

"Éponine's going to help me figure out who this girl is and where to find her."

Jehan glanced around the room with a raised eyebrow and saw that a few of their friends were either getting annoyed with Marius, or had put two and two together and realized what an unconsciously low blow that was. Come to think of it, Jehan wasn't sure which of them knew of Éponine's feelings for Marius. It wasn't something that, to his knowledge, had ever been discussed. Éponine was tightfisted when it came to the private details of her life, even with her friends.

Combeferre intervened. "Well, that's wonderful, Marius, and we're very happy for you—"

Marius laughed sheepishly. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take up all the time."

Jehan rubbed the back of his head, his fingers mussing up his reddish sandy curls, and then lowered his head to his notebook and wrote the first words that came into his mind:

Summer finds summer,

Leaves one heart desolate. Who

Else might keep you warm?

When he looked back up, everyone in the room was laughing, probably at some joke Courfeyrac had made at Marius' expense. Almost everyone, that is.

"Alright you lot, quiet down." Enjolras had stood from his chair at the head of the table. Though he couldn't be called physically imposing, the flash of fervor in Enjolras' eyes gave him a commanding presence, and the room was silent at his orders. "We do actually have something important to discuss today."

Éponine sat between Marius and Courfeyrac. She leaned over and whispered something to Marius as Combeferre began to take attendance, and Marius gave his reply with an indulgent smile. Éponine raised her eyebrows and looked over at Enjolras, who was looking out the window with his back towards the group, and then she gave a shrug and leaned back in her seat.

When the roll-call was complete, Enjolras turned back to them. A hush fell over the room as everyone waited attentively for him to speak. Jehan was always a little in awe of their leader when he was in this state, where the turmoil and the passion and the thirst for justice was visible in his gleaming eyes.

Enjolras wrapped his knuckles on the table softly, once, twice, and then at last raised his eyes to look his friends in the eyes. "I don't need to tell any of you why you're here. You know what we are. You know what we do—to bring freedom to all people, especially the downtrodden, to strike down tyranny wherever we see it—that is our goal, et sic semper tyrannis." His voice had been a quiet simmer, but these last words were spoken with sudden force and vehemence.

He left these words hanging in the air, and Jehan glanced around the table and saw a few grim nods from Les Amis. Enjolras meanwhile, had taken a pile of photographs out of one of his file folders and handed them Combeferre and Feuilly with unspoken instructions to pass them around the table. "They tell us our France is a democracy, and therefore we must live in liberty, we must all have equal rights and receive equal treatment under a just law. But look at these pictures, and tell me that we do not live under a government that is wicked enough to persecute its own people, so long as it first deems them unworthy of decency and respect."

The first picture reached Jehan. The short caption beneath the photograph of a crowded and trash-covered trailer park said that it was a Gypsy camp, slated for demolition by the French government, whose occupants were to be deported. The other images were of similar camps scattered throughout France, all of which were scheduled to meet the same fate.

Enjolras continued his tirade against the racism and injustice, but Jehan took the opportunity to observe the reactions of Les Amis. They all looked concerned, even outraged, to some degree, and even Éponine suddenly seemed much more interested as she studied one of the photographs.

Combeferre was rubbing his chin as he scrutinized one of the photos. "So what are you proposing, Enjolras?"

"Let me ask you this first," he replied, a finger raised. "Before today, and other than Combeferre who has been dedicated to researching this with me, how many of you knew that any of this was happening?"

Feuilly and, to Jehan's surprise, Grantaire raised their hands. However, from his corner, Grantaire was not visible to Enjolras. "Exactly. Exactly," Enjolras said. "Our first step is clear—educate the masses. Pamphlets, protests, stand-ins. This is public information but the government and the news media are working to keep it under wraps. Clearly they're succeeding if only one out of this well-informed group was aware of it until now."

Grantaire harrumphed quietly and took a swig from his bottle.

Enjolras went on without a pause. "Now, the demolitions and deportations aren't set to begin for another three to four months. That gives us time to bring the public on our side. Of course, we'll run into opposition from interested parties and—"

Joly leaned over to mutter in Jehan's ear, tapping on one of the photographs. "We'll run into disease, that's what. Does this place look sanitary to you?"

"He didn't say we're actually going into the camps," Jehan replied.

"I wouldn't put anything past Enj. Just wait, before you know it he'll be wanting us to form a human barricade to block the demolition crews from getting in." He spoke seriously but then laughed under his breath.

Jehan smiled, shaking his head. "He isn't as melodramatic as you are, J."

Joly swept a hand through his deliberately disheveled hair, which as always was at odds with his sharp clothing. "I'm not the one up there raging against the machine."

Touché.

"My god, I can't fucking handle his shit anymore!"

Éponine finished off her brandy and practically slammed the cognac glass down on the bar. Jehan chuckled quietly and took a sip of his own designated-driver's drink. He'd just asked her what she thought about Marius' ghost girl and had received a much more explosive answer than he had expected to get.

It was growing late at the Café Musain. Les Amis had gone down to the bar after the meeting had finished and one by one had bid their friends farewell and gone home. Jehan, Joly, Éponine, and Grantaire were left sitting at the bar, and were the last customers in the café besides a couple talking quietly in the far corner. Joly and Grantaire were currently drunk and arguing over whether bagels or English muffins made better breakfast sandwiches while Joly tried to avoid gawking at the pretty blonde barista. This left Jehan talking with Éponine under the dim lights.

Éponine sort of growled under her breath, or maybe it was meant to be a sigh. "He's just so goddamnneedy all the time. ''Ponine, help me with this. 'Ponine, go do that for me. 'Ponine, find me a girlfriend!'"

Jehan pursed his lips together to try to keep his amusement from showing on his face, and swished his drink around in the glass. "You don't have to do it, you know."

"Yeah I know," she grumbled, spinning absently on her barstool, "but there's no reason for me not to and Marius will bug me about it until I do."

At the moment, Jehan could deduce two things. First, Éponine must not have realized that he knew about her feelings for Marius, because that certainly qualified as a reason for her not to help him find the mystery girl. Second, she was fidgety, which usually meant that she was hiding something, that there was more to a situation which she hadn't told.

He was curious about what she wasn't saying. "So, how exactly does he expect you to find this girl anyway?"

"She was wearing the uniform from that deli where I used to work," Éponine replied. "Marius wants me to go in and talk to my old co-workers, see if I can figure out who she is."

Éponine stopped speaking but she clearly had more to say. She frowned, faint creases appearing across her forehead, fiddled with the stem of her empty glass, and then turned on her barstool to face him, her knees almost close enough to be between his own. "Actually…" She sighed, bouncing the heel of her boot against the foot rail and fiddling with one of the many rings on her fingers. "Actually, I already know who she is."

Jehan cocked his head, leaning his elbow on the bar. "You do? How?"

"Because we knew each other when we were kids. I recognized her." Éponine raised her dark eyes to his with a dejected grimace that was probably intended to be a smile.

"Well that's quite the plot twist."

"Yup."

"So…why didn't you say anything to Pontmercy?"

She seemed caught off guard for just a moment. "Well…well god, I don't know! I just didn't. And now it would just be really awkward if I was all, 'oh, hey Marius, it must have slipped my mind but I actually grew up with that girl! And by the way, her name's Cosette.'"

Jehan finished off his drink. "Cosette, huh? That's a cute name," he said. "What's she like?"

"I haven't seen her in years, how should I know? But she's a fucking gorgeous blonde doll, I can tell you that much." She swiveled around on her stool again to lean back against the counter.

It wasn't hard for Jehan to see how Éponine was hurting; this was one situation in which her appearance of not giving a damn about anything was falling far short of disguising her real feelings. She gave herself away by the slight crease between her eyebrows, by the forlorn despondency in her eyes.

He hated to see her heart breaking.

Jehan reached over and patted her knee, and when she looked at him with a quizzical expression, he gave her a little smile and said, "I'm sorry, Éponine."

She seemed surprised. Her mouth dropped open and she drew in a breath as if she were going to speak and ask him how he knew, but a moment later she released it again. She seemed to have decided that she didn't really mind. Jehan considered this to be a very good reaction.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked after a silence.

Jehan mirrored her position, leaning his elbows back on bar to look out the dark window. "No, not obvious." But to me it is.

They shared a look. Éponine seemed conflicted over whether to be amused, embarrassed, or relieved, but Jehan just smiled so she seemed unable to resist smiling back, cheeks dimpled and eyes sparkling, radiant despite her sadness.

You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?

Éponine looked back to the window, unaware of his thoughts. "What a joke," she said through a wide yawn. "God, I'm tired. I should probably get going." She slid off of the barstool, her boots clomping against the wooden floor.

Jehan suddenly realized that Marius' being gone meant that Éponine did not have her usual ride, but his own car was parked right outside the café. "Can I take you home?" he offered, picking up his jacket and lowering one foot to the ground.

She shrugged, and scrunched up her nose a little. "Hmm, no that's okay," she said lightly. "I'll walk. It's not too far."

"Are…you sure?"

"Why not? It's a nice night." Éponine raised her eyebrows, looking completely undaunted by the idea of walking through the city streets after dark, all alone. "Hey, 'Taire, Joly! I'm gonna head out," she called. They waved at her, but both seemed to be far too drunk to do much else. She rolled her eyes at them and looked back at Jehan. "You their ride home?"

"Unfortunately," he said with a cheerful smile.

"Wow, have fun. Well I'll see you later, Jehan."

"Have a good night. And be safe! Don't talk to strangers!"

He grinned at her as she laughed and waved, pushed open the door, and disappeared out into the dark street. He continued to watch the empty doorway for a few moments, the smile unconsciously fading from his face.

You didn't have to let her refuse. You should have driven her home.

A second jingle of the bells as the door swung shut woke him from his reverie. With a sigh and a guilty conscience, he stood to attempt the daunting task of pulling his friends away from their liquor.