Chapter 2

March 12th, 1832

Gabrielle was now a constant addition to the meetings of Les Amis de l'Abc. While formally, there were no women allowed, Enjolras turned a blind eye to her because his friends all enjoyed having her there. And, if he had to admit it, he did like debating with her. It was exhilarating, having someone new to talk with. Combeferre was a good debate partner, but by now Enjolras knew him so well, he might as well have had an argument with himself. Gabrielle was his equal in her passion for what she believed in, and balanced out his rich boy ideals with her street smarts.

On this particular evening, she had abandoned their usual nightly debate to talk to Grantaire. Enjolras was slightly disappointed but he continued to plan out various strategies for different scenarios on the barricade.

He was interrupted from his deep thoughts by the feeling of someone's gaze on him. He looked up and ice blue eyes met grey-green. Gabrielle. She held his gaze for a moment, a small smile curling at the corner of her mouth and her hand furiously moving on paper. He felt his own lips forming a smile too. When she caught sight of this, her smile grew and she broke their connection. What was she writing on that paper? Enjolras watched as she stood up and gave Grantaire a kiss on the cheek before weaving her way through the crowded tables to him.

Gabrielle had been sitting with Grantaire, talking about art and drawing. Grantaire had been explaining to her how he had drawn every one of his friends except Enjolras. He said he felt he could never get Enjolras right. Something about the face, he had said. Too many hidden emotions. Our Marble Man isn't as marble as we want to believe.

Let me try, she had suggested. He had handed over a blank sheet of paper and a charcoal he had been using a bit. He laughed a little, saying she would never do it.

She had gone at it, trying to portray him in his element- working on his precious revolution. She drew him from the waist up, focusing mostly on the face. She had almost got it right but something was wrong. She studied the paper for awhile. It was the eyes- they were missing something.

When she looked back up he was staring at her. Excitedly, she let her hand work furiously on his eyes. Finally, she had finished and looked down to inspect her drawing. Grantaire's head popped up behind her shoulder, and then he took the paper with disbelief.

He swore under his breath. Well it appears you have done the impossible, mademoiselle. Although I must say, I have never seen such a look on his face.

Thank you Grantaire. She said and stood to make her way over to the subject of her art. Before she left though, she kissed Grantaire on the cheek.

I can still out drink you, you know! he called after her.

You can try! she laughed.

Now Gabrielle was standing in front of him. He stood up, towering over her a good four or five inches. "A gift for you, monsieur," she said, holding out a sheet of paper.

"Is this what you were writing with Grantaire?" he asked.

"Not writing, drawing. I'll leave the words to you, if you don't mind." Gabrielle passed him the drawing. As she did so, their hands brushed against each other. Enjolras froze, but Gabrielle merely paused and considered her options, before squeezing his hand once and slipping away. He stared after her in wonder. Finally he looked at the sketch.

The artist obviously thought that the man she was drawing was beautiful. For it was the image of a man, with curls shining under the gas lights around him, papers crumpled all around him. He was turned towards the artist, and had a small smile on his face. His eyes were the most captivating part though. They were full of emotion- loyalty, passion, determinedness, and...love.

"What are you looking at?" Combeferre's voice startled him.

"Nothing." he said, folding the paper in half hurriedly and stuffing it into the pocket inside his jacket. For some reason, he didn't want to share this picture with anyone quite yet.

"Okay, well I had some strategies I wanted to share with you." Combeferre looked up, his glasses sliding even further down his nose.

"But..." Enjolras searched wildly for Gabrielle, but couldn't see her anywhere in the room. Finally he gave up and went with his friend. Get her out of your head Enjolras. She's just some silly girl.

Two hours later Enjolras could feel a headache coming on. For once, he was tired of thinking. He sat back and ran his fingers through his curls. A long nap sounded like a good idea right now- or at least a break from work. He stood up and went in search of a cup of coffee. As he stood in front of the bar sipping from a cup, Enjolras caught sight of Éponine playing a game of checkers with Gavroche. He wandered over and reached them just as Gavroche got one of his checkers kinged. Éponine groaned good-naturedly.

Enjolras tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and was rather surprised to see him standing there. "Yes?" she said.

"Do you know where your sister is?" he asked. Éponine shrugged.

"You could try outside." He nodded his thanks.

Following Éponine's advice, he trudged down the stairs and into the street. The night air was brisk but refreshing and reinvigorated Enjolras on his search. He saw no one on the street, save a few urchins who kept their distance. After walking for a few blocks with no success, Enjolras was about to give up when he heard voices nearby.

It was a man and a woman, arguing by the sound of it, and not politely. It was ugly, with swearing from both parties and insults that probably had nothing to do with the actually fight. Enjolras knew he should leave, that it was most likely just another unhappy couple from the streets and none of his business, but something in the woman's voice made him stay. It was familiar.

The man's voice grew louder and angrier, if that were possible, and a pleading tone appeared in the woman's. "Do not come back without money and expect food! I don't provide for whores who don't work!" the man shouted.

"I am not a whore!" the woman shouted back. There was the sound of someone being hit and the sharp intake of breath. It was then that Enjolras realized why the woman sounded familiar. It was Gabrielle.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" more hitting noises. "And don't deny it. Remember- I know your father, I know how he works." There was the unmistakable noise of a scuffle and the man said, "Struggling only makes it worse, you know."

After another minute of painful sounds Gabrielle cried out, "Please 'Parnesse! Stop! Please stop! I'll go down to the best street tonight and do a few jobs, I promise!" The man grunted in assent and heavy, slouching footsteps slunk out of hearing range. Enjolras took this as his cue to leave but horror and fury glued him to the spot.

Finally his brain worked enough to walk again, but he had gone no more than a few steps when a soft voice said, "Enjolras?"

He turned and saw her standing there meekly, a stance he had never seen her take on. It didn't suit her, being weak.

"How much did you hear?" she whispered.

"Enough." he said quietly.

"Ah." she said, and looked away, blinking back tears. "Well then I guess I'll see you around monsieur, though probably not at the cafe. You wouldn't want my kind hanging about there." She turned to leave. Enjolras walked forward quickly.

"Elle, wait." He grabbed her forearm, making Gabrielle hiss and flinch in pain. "You're hurt." he said and looked closer. Her arms were covered in bruises and small cuts, and her lip was split. "Come here, let me help." She hesitated but accepted the handkerchief he gave her and pressed it to the cut in her lip.

Enjolras watched sadly, wishing he could do more to help. "Does this happen often?" he asked worriedly. Her silence spoke volumes. "Oh Elle." he sighed. She sniffed but otherwise made no sound.

"Tell me a funny story." Gabrielle commanded finally. So he recounted the time an uncle of his had fallen into a soup tureen at a funeral reception and how hard his eight year old self had laughed. He left out the part where his younger self had received a slap for laughing at a funeral and having no respect for the dead.

She hummed in amusement and rested her head on his shoulder. After a moment or two of quiet he asked, "Who was the man in the drawing you gave me?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "Why, couldn't you tell Enjolras? It was you." That shocked him into a good thirty more seconds of silence.

"Elle?"

"Yes?"

"Promise me you won't go back to him."

"Hmmm," was her only reply.

"No Elle, you have to promise me." He held her out and forced her to look at him. Blue eyes searched green. "Promise."

"He's not so bad." Gabrielle whispered. "And besides, where will I stay if not with him?"

"With me and Combeferre." Gabrielle snorted. "No, I mean it. Combeferre won't mind, he likes you. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing that he might be hurting you."

Gabrielle scowled. "I can fend for myself Enjolras. It isn't that bad."

Enjolras' tone sharpened. "Gabrielle-"

She cut him off. "Elle. I like it when you call me that, Elle."

Enjolras' face went soft again. How did she do this to him? "Elle." he said softly.

Without warning, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him. "Thank you." she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, bewildered.

"For caring." And it was those two words that made him tighten his arms around her in return, knowing she needed more people who cared in her life.