"A revolution." Enjolras said, looking at all of his friends gathered at the café Musain. "We will rise up and take this city for liberty and for equality! Those who claim to be higher than the citizens of Paris shall fall and a new age shall dawn. We will see our country reborn!"

A cry of agreement rose up from the students present. They huddled around tables and began to talk excitedly of a new republic and of preparations for a battle. Enjolras stepped down off of his chair and was immediately greeted by Courfeyrac.

"That was amazing, Enjolras. How do you just ad lib these things?"

Enjolras shrugged and looked at the clock on the wall. "I guess I was just born with the talent."

Courfeyrac followed his gaze and looked at the clock. "What's wrong?"

Enjolras sighed. "Where is Combeferre?"

Courfeyrac looked around. "I thought he was here."

"He's not." Enjolras stared at the clock and watched the time turn from 2:00 to 2:01. "He's late."

"Shit, I'm late." Combeferre said, scooting his chair out from the table and gathering his lunch tray.

One of his friends looked up at him. "Come on, man, that guy can wait at least another minute! Let Noémi finish her story!"

"No, Marc, it's fine. I'll tell it later. It's important Guillaume get's there on time." Noémi looked at Combeferre. "Go, it's fine."

Combeferre smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Sorry, guys, we'll talk more tomorrow but I really have to go." He turned around, threw his Styrofoam tray in the trashcan and walked quickly out of the small break room.

Combeferre slipped back into his white coat and grabbed his clipboard from the reception desk.

"Hey, Guillaume." The receptionist said.

"Hello, Anne, sorry I can't talk, I'm late." He took a few steps forward then turned around and stood in front of the desk.

Anne smiled. "Red pen?"

Combeferre nodded. "Yes, please."

Anne held one up and Combeferre took it with a smile. "Thanks."

"You are really late." She said.

Combeferre nodded and started walking down the hallway. "I know, I know. Today is not my day."

Combeferre opened the door to the room and hesitantly entered. "Enjolras?"

The room wasn't very large but it was big enough to hold a single bed, a desk, a dresser and a small table with two chairs around it. The taupe colored walls were covered with maps, flags and a few framed paintings. One was The Storming of the Bastille, another was Scène de Juillet 1830 and the third was Liberty Leading the People. All that was hung on the walls was done so with careful measurement and placement so that the walls didn't look clustered but perfectly neat and orderly. The window in the corner of the room was open and a slight breeze rustled the French and red flag that were also hanging on the wall.

Enjolras was standing in the middle of his room gazing up at the clock on the wall. "2:05 …"

"I know, I apologize for being late." Combeferre looked down at his clipboard. "How are you feeling today?"

"It's … odd …" Enjolras said.

Combeferre looked up. "What's odd?"

"The time, you are supposed to come at 2:00 and that's all even but you came at 2:05 and five is an odd number. You are supposed to come on an even number." Enjolras started fidgeting with the strings on his red hoodie and his breathing sped up. "It's odd …"

Combeferre nodded. "It's okay, Enjolras. Would you like me to leave and come back in at 2:06?"

Enjolras nodded.

"Okay, I'll be right back." Combeferre left the room.

Enjolras rocked back and forth in his feet and looked up at the clock. "Five is an odd number. Enjolras has eight letters, E-N-J-O-L-R-A-S, eight. But Jacob has five letters, J-A-C-O-B, five. And I don't like that." He raised his voice so Combeferre could hear outside the door. "I don't go by my first name, Combeferre, because it has five letters!"

Combeferre's voice came back muffled. "You are absolutely right, Enjolras. How many letters does my name have?"

Enjolras, still starring at the clock, counted, "G-U-I-L-L-A-U-M-E, Guillaume. That has nine so that's no good. But Combeferre has ten, C-O-M-B-E-F-E-R-R-E, ten."

The clock turned to 2:06 and Enjolras relaxed. "It's even now."

Combeferre opened the door and came back into the room. "So, Enjolras, how are you doing today?"

Enjolras nodded. "Plans for the revolt are going well. Grantaire was annoying me again today."

Combeferre scribbled some things down on his clipboard, "And Grantaire is the one that always drinks?"

Enjolras nodded and started to rearrange all the items on his desk so they were in a straight line. "He drinks, like my dad used to drink."

"And sometimes your dad hurt you when he was drunk right?" Combeferre asked softly.

Enjolras made a distressed noise and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Combeferre. Don't make me talk about it today, please."

Combeferre nodded. "That's fine. We won't talk about it."

"Courfeyrac liked my speech today." Enjolras said, finishing up his rearranging.

Combeferre stopped writing and squeezed his eyes shut. "Did he?"

"Yes." Enjolras moved on to reorganizing his books on the shelf above his desk. "Hey, Combeferre, when is Courfeyrac going to come visit me again?"

Combeferre sighed, still not opening his eyes. "He can't come and visit you anymore, remember? We talked about this."

Enjolras stopped his task and started rocking back and forth on his feet. "Cars." He whispered.

"Yes, because of cars." Combeferre opened his eyes and wrote something down on his clipboard.

Enjolras turned and looked at the clipboard Combeferre was writing on. "Red pen." He muttered. "I like your red pen, Combeferre. Red is a great color … ff0000 is my favorite shade." Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "You are wearing a bracelet today." He walked over and touched Combeferre's left wrist. "That's a blue bracelet and you don't usually wear it."

Combeferre looked at the plastic blue bracelet on his wrist. "It's April, I wear it every April, remember?"

Enjolras's blue eyes scrutinized the bracelet as he spoke absentmindedly. "Yes … April. A-P-R-I-L … a dismal five letter word. Why do you wear it every April?"

"I wear it for you, Enjolras." Combeferre said.

Enjolras smiled. "For me." He repeated.

"Yes."

Enjolras read the words on the bracelet. " 'Autism Awareness'." He bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Autism, A-U-T-I-S-M, six letters."

"It's an even number. It's good." Combeferre said.

Enjolras nodded. "It's good. It's good because you are my friend and you still like me and you don't yell … and you don't hit."

Combeferre caught Enjolras's eyes. "I will never hit."

Enjolras looked at him. "Never hit."

Combeferre smiled and put his clipboard under his arm. "So, Enjolras, who was exiled to Elba in 1814?"

Enjolras made a disgusted face. "Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Who stormed the Bastille in 1789?"

Enjolras smiled. "The people of Paris."

"Who wrote The Social Contract?"

"Jean-Jacques Rousseau."

"Who has read The Social Contract far too many times?"

Enjolras giggled. "Me."

"And who cares about you more than anything in this whole world?"

Enjolras smiled. "Combeferre."