Chapter Six

(A Worthy Cause)

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the wait. I actually made it to New York to watch a Broadway performance of Les Mis and I almost met Aaron Tveit. Almost. It was a long-shot but the chance was there. Sigh. Enjoy this chapter! Enjoy a little bit of lovestruck Apollo!


He is certain that night had long since passed into morning at this point. His eyes should be drooping, battling for the right to surrender to slumber. But he is wide awake, hyper-aware of the soft enchantress that sits across from him on the flimsy old mattress, only a few paces away, with her legs folded beneath her. It is entirely improper, and that only causes Enjolras' heart to beat faster.

She asked if she could sit with him until the candlelight flickered out. If Enjolras had any intention of getting sleep tonight, he should have said no. But he had accepted her request, trying not to show how having her so close affected him. They both held warm cups of tea in between their fingertips. What was it for again? Relaxation? Something meant to soothe? A distraction for their hands?

"A thief…an imposter…" he murmured before taking a sip. He eyed the way Antoinette's ─ Anne-Laure's head shot up in surprise. Her fingers fumbled about and were barely able to cradle her teacup for a moment. Enjolras waited for her to get settled before speaking again.

"Anne-Laure Gardet – is that your true name, mademoiselle?"

Anne-Laure nodded wordlessly, guilt rising up in her chest. She had no choice but to lay out the truth now, bare and unmasked. Inviting Enjolras to stay the night left her with no other way. He was craving for answers, yearning to understand why she is the way she is and why she was the way she was.

"Before you began selling dresses, you stole and pretended to be somebody you were not. Why is that?"

He was no longer offering her the luxury of silence. When Anne-Laure resolved to telling Enjolras just exactly what he was getting into by being with her she didn't realize it would be such a difficult task. Revealing herself as something dirty and criminal made her afraid. What would he think of her once he knew she had pilfered into the pockets of men and women like him with the hands he had held a few hours ago? Men and women like him, lesser than him, greater than him – no one in the towns before Paris were safe from Anne-Laure Gardet's thievery. And up until the previous, no one Paris had any inkling that she was deceiving them all. She thrived and survived on such evil acts. Enjolras was a man of innate justice. He could turn her in for all her wrongdoings in the past and present and Anne-Laure would willingly allow it, just because it was him. Why was she working so hard to show him what he was getting into? Shouldn't she be afraid of what she was throwing herself into?

"I wasn't much different from those little street children that hole up in the elephant at the Bastille every night. I had to get food into my stomach somehow. Stealing and pretending were the easiest ways to do so." Anne-Laure finally muttered, not once meeting Enjolras' eyes. He frowned at that and set his teacup down on the floor beside the mattress before scooting closer.

"And then? Don't stop there, my dear. Tell me how you became the extraordinary woman sitting before me." Enjolras wrapped his hands around hers and couldn't help but let out a little chuckle when some tea sloshed out of the cup at her recoil of surprise. Anne-Laure looked down at the hands he pressed against hers before finally looking into his eyes.

"Listen to me, Anne-Laure." Enjolras implored. "It won't matter if you stole jewels from the king or pickpocketed through a crowd of hungry beggars. None of that would change the fact that I am so in love with you it's blinding. Everything you do blinds me, and there's nothing left for me to do but follow in your wake. Tell me you used to steal thread from Madame Deslys or tell me you've stolen textbooks from students a day before exams simply for fun, it won't mean anything to me anymore. Because I know you rose above all of that, and that just makes me adore you all the more. You're a brave girl who fought for her right to live, not just survive. It may have taken some time, but you found your way to justice and goodness in a world where everything was sinister and sneaky. No matter what you tell me next, that's what I'll be thinking. So please, my dear, do not be afraid to tell me."

Anne-Laure couldn't help it – she flung her arms around his neck in one fluid movement. For a moment, Enjolras sputtered as he made sure her tea didn't spill and as he tried to comprehend what just happened. When he heard the dry sobs she tried to suppress by the side of his ear, he immediately drew her closer so that their bodies were pressed against each other. He had one arm around her waist and another wrapped around her shoulders as he listened carefully to the confessions she whispered in his ear. Anne-Laure hurriedly told him about her rough childhood and her life with a generous man in between sobs. She told him the story of chasing this generous imposter all the way to Paris and losing him. She told him about reuniting with the man she saw as her father last night, explaining why she had to break her promise. The whole time Enjolras held her close, refusing to part from her until her hurried breaths and body-wracking sobs simmered down into silent tears against his shoulder.

She was practically on his lap by now, her arms unwound from his neck but his arms still around her. Anne-Laure drew circles on his chest with one hand and Enjolras could hardly breathe without being hit with her earthy scent of fresh morning dew and clear water. There had never been another time when she was this close to him for so long, and the primal part of Enjolras' instincts longed for more. But he reigned himself in, knowing all too well that this moment was completely emotional and of great importance to Anne-Laure. He couldn't ruin this with letting such wild and consuming thoughts take over.

Finally, she was in his arms and not second-guessing herself. Anne-Laure was within his embrace and Enjolras would go as far as to say that she was his to love and to care for. This moment was everything he could ever ask for.

"Thank you for everything, Enjolras." Anne-Laure murmured softly but the sound carried easily enough in the dead of the night. Enjolras responded by holding her tighter and rocking the both of them back and forth for a while.

"I think it might be time for us to retire." Anne-Laure said a few minutes later, shooting a tired glance towards the direction of her room. The cot she had set up for him sat in the middle of her living room, and the entire flat was darkening rapidly as the candles slowly died out.

"Of course." Enjolras agreed easily, but neither of them made a move to untangle themselves from each other.

Anne-Laure pressed her face against his chest briefly, muttering another word of thanks against him. She lifted herself slightly so she could bestow a swift kiss upon his cheek, an action that made Enjolras' heart soar. She remained there for a moment, her lips only a few millimeters from his cheek.

She moved her hand upwards from his chest towards his face and tilted his head slightly so he was facing her more. Anne-Laure leaned in and pressed her lips against his. She meant it to be a quick peck, but the moment she began to withdraw, Enjolras' lips followed hers and captured them into an interlock that was fiercer, more passionate. Anne-Laure let out an audible gasp at this bold move, and Enjolras took this opportunity to deepen the kiss. In no time at all, the pair easily fell into a rhythm that came instinctually to them. Enjolras drew Anne-Laure closer by placing his hand against her neck, coaxing with his lips for her to open up once more like she did with that gasp just moments before. She savored the warm pressure of his lips against hers and responded eagerly. The pair only broke away for breath, ending with their foreheads still leaning against each other's.

"You must think me a scoundrel." Enjolras let out a hollow laugh. He fumbled with his hands again, twisting a grip into the fabric of her dress showing just how much he didn't want to let her go despite the impropriety of the whole situation. "You must tell me to leave your apartment right now at this very moment. I have been dishonorable."

"Do not order me around, monsieur." Anne-Laure whispered back. She grabbed him with a pull of his shirt and pressed one last chaste kiss against his lips before rising up from the mattress. Enjolras watched her figure leave for her room with an astounded look permanently etched on his face. Indeed, he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep tonight.


He woke to the sensation of someone nearly shoving a slice of bread up his nose. With a messy waving of arms and a sound from his throat that was a cross between a groan and a growl, Enjolras opened his eyes to look up at a smirking Anne-Laure. She held a basket with fresh bread against her hips and had already changed into her workday's wear.

"Good morning, monsieur. I do believe you have a class to get to in a few hours. Of course, you must start the day right with a hearty breakfast, yes?"

Well, this was certainly an interesting way to wake up. (It was also something Enjolras could get used to.)

Enjolras pushed himself up to a sitting position and Anne-Laure spun away with a peal of laughter. As she set her dining table for two, she told him he could freshen up before breakfast with the water basin in the corner of her bedroom. Since he had long lost his qualms about propriety after the night, he easily strode into her room and followed her orders without a fuss.

When he sat at the table with her for breakfast, Enjolras could not remember a time when he felt this sort of happiness. Anne-Laure evoked within him a special kind of warmth that he was certain would be irreplaceable in his heart. She laughed freely with him, stole bread off his plate, and he caught her hand in his whenever he wished and planted kisses upon them (he was sure he was free to plant kisses upon her lips as well). Last night she opened herself up to him, made herself vulnerable in a way she admitted she had never truly done before. He treasured that honor, swore to himself that he would never hurt her or betray her. Enjolras knew that with the ambitions he set his sights on it was a foolish thing to promise but he made it nonetheless. Anne-Laure was worth every promise, kept or otherwise.

"I must leave now if I am to get ready and make it to class with enough time." said Enjolras regretfully at the end of their meal. Again, he was holding one of her hands in his and Anne-Laure was smiling, a slight flush splayed across her cheeks.

"Actually, Monsieur, I was hoping you might allow me to choose your clothes for today."

Enjolras' head rose to look at her. "You truly wish to do that?"

Anne-Laure let out a chuckle and nodded. She had chosen outfits for him before on countless occasions. The first few times when he kept coming back to her shop on the pretense of needing more clothing as an excuse to see her, the next times when she needed someone to model her creations, and other instances when she was feeling restless and longed for something to do. But this request seemed more intimate, especially after the events that occurred last night.

The warm feeling remained in Enjolras' chest as he waited for her to finish rummaging through her store downstairs. She returned a few minutes later and dumped a pile of clothes in her bedroom. Enjolras followed her and got changed behind the changing screen in her bedroom. He hurried a little, his heart beating faster knowing that she was waiting for him (and the time for class was nearing). When he exited with the clothes donned on, she let out a bright smile and clapped her hands together happily.

"And how does it look, mademoiselle?"

"See for yourself!" Anne-Laure exclaimed in between joyous laughs and tugged him by the arm to pull him over to a full-length mirror situated on the opposite side of her room. She smiled as they inspected their reflection before them. Truthfully, Enjolras wasn't viewing himself in the mirror at all.

"You always make my clothes look stunning, monsieur. Thank you."

Enjolras chuckled and fingered the piece of cloth fluttering over the area of his chest. "It is I who should be thanking you for being so thoughtful. Who knew I would be wearing a cravat to university?"

"Is it too much?" Anne-Laure worried her lip as she joined his hand in touching the piece of cloth.

"Non, my dear, everything is perfect. Thank you." Enjolras was in the beginnings of pulling her closer for a sweet kiss he had longed for since waking up but she pulled away to inspect his reflection in the mirror once more.

"Not just yet, monsieur. There is one final detail we must take care of." She turned away from the mirror and rummaged through the drawers in the vanity set next to it. Anne-Laure took out a thick velvety ribbon and ordered him to sit down on her bed. Anne-Laure thought nothing of it, but Enjolras gulped inaudibly as he followed her instructions. She made to stand before him as soon as he was seated and reached over to gather his golden hair into a single clump leading to the base of his neck. Enjolras shamelessly breathed her scent in as she stood so close to him while she tied his hair back with a ribbon. When she was done, she stepped back to view her work.

"There. Now it's finished."

"Is all you see to your liking?"

Anne-Laure blushed brightly at that and Enjolras couldn't help but laugh. Nonetheless, she nodded with a roll of her eyes. Without rising from his seat, he pulled her closer to him once more by the waist and held her so he was slightly looking up at her and her down at him.

Anne-Laure's lips were slightly parted and Enjolras couldn't help but press a chaste kiss against them. She giggled a little into the kiss and responded just as lightly.

"This is what I've been longing for for so long." Enjolras murmured against her lips.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, monsieur."

"Never apologize for us, Anne-Laure. You don't know how happy you make me."

"I might have an idea."

He smiled and placed one more kiss against her cheek before rising to his feet.

"How can I leave you now, with you looking at me like that, mademoiselle?"

Anne-Laure sighed and shook her head, finally pulling away from him and stalking towards the exit without another word. Enjolras laughed and gathered the rest of his belongings before following her.

(In his mind, he mused about how he would follow her anywhere.)


Unsurprisingly, not even a bratty client could ruin Anne-Laure's mood today.

She heaved a sigh of relief once she was out of the door of the Parisian residence of the English Baron Egerton, home to his mistress Corinne Beaumanoir and the baron's three bastard daughters. The four women had commissioned fashionable dresses from Anne-Laure's shop three months prior and always had alterations made at every fitting. They were finally satisfied with the product, most probably because the London season was nearing and, despite their ineligible statuses, would obviously be going to England for the event.

The only thing that kept Anne-Laure sane during the entire ordeal was the thought of Enjolras' lips on her own. Memories of last night flooded Anne-Laure's mind, making her blush as she ambled down the street. Where did she find the boldness to do what she did last night? Was it his intoxicating yet genuine words? Was it the way he looked at her like she could do no wrong except deny him? Whatever it was, it made her wild with a craving for anything Donatien Enjolras. It consumed her thoughts and it would have mortified Anne-Laure to no end had he not conveyed how he was feeling very much the same towards her.

The Baron's home was a half-hour walk away from Anne-Laure's shop, doubled into an hour when she was carrying four heavy gowns along. Anne-Laure was happy to have time for herself. The way Madame Deslys looked at her this morning was telling enough of just how out of it the young dressmaker seemed to be. She needed to collect herself and get into the mind state of a working woman of Paris. If she didn't, Anne-Laure feared she wouldn't be able to get anything done at all.

The crowd around Anne-Laure was thickening, the people's voices were getting louder, and without her realizing it Anne-Laure was being pushed along their direction by eager folks of all ages. Anne-Laure was being led to a makeshift stage where a man stood above everyone, preaching about something.

"Our motherland deserves more than an incompetent leader sitting on the throne! For too long, she has been afflicted with the disease of wretched kings and politicians. Their rotten virus remains in the streets of our honorable nation, bringing down the lowest of the low and raising the undeserving. Will we stand for this? Well we sit around and praise a king who knows nothing? Will we allow France to be made a fool once more?!"

There was a round of angry noises going through the crowd as people cried 'No!' The man on the platform continued to preach similar things, seeming to rile up the crowd from some sort of fight. What did they intend to do, Anne-Laure wondered as she tried to make her way out of the square. They weren't near any royal or government establishments – there was no one in a high enough position who would hear these people's cries.

"We must bring back the ideals the honorable Napoleon Bonaparte stood for! We mustn't allow more diseases like republican delusions and grandeur illusions of palaces infiltrate our beloved country again! We must fire up another revolution; use the power of the people to put the right man back on top!" Several cries of agreement rang through the crowd. Men and women – the proletariat of Paris – seemed to heartily agree with the speaker. When the speaker was angry, they were angry. When he was inspired, they felt inspired. When he was distraught, they were distraught. Everything the speaker felt was instilled into the hearts of these people.

This passionate and charismatic leader brought to mind another character for Anne-Laure. Enjolras filled her thoughts again, this time visions of him preaching to a crowd just like this one with an unmatched heat and passion. Would it be like this from now on? Would he and his friends rally crowds to go against the law?

"We must fight! Every time we see those disgusting beings who believe they represent a skewed version of justice, we must show them what the people of Paris are made of! We will spit on their faces and call them cows before we ever succumb to whatever rules they think they can use to oppress us and raise the bourgeoisie in turn. We will not stand for the people who step on us! No, my brothers, we will fight against them!"

Anne-Laure's thoughts filled with panic as she tried to push her way out of the crowd that only seemed to push forward with a surge. Sure, she believed there was a lot that needed to be changed in French society. But violence? Surely they didn't need to go to such extreme measures against fellow Frenchmen, especially the lowly guards who probably only needed the money. There was no denying that many of the people on top were power hungry and greedy, but violence would only give them more power. It would give them an excuse to exercise their advantages and bring the working class of Paris down once more.

The roaring of the crowd was ringing in Anne-Laure's ears. She struggled to squeeze herself out of the way. A ruckus like this was bound to catch the attention of the patrol, and Anne-Laure really didn't need to be here when that happened.

Finally, there was a piercing yell.

"The police!"

All of the people – whom just moments before were declaring war against the gendarmerie – began scattering about, fleeing the scene like dogs with their tails in between their legs. The hypocrisy and disloyalty of these people astounded Anne-Laure, but it did give her the chance to get away as well.

But not quite fast enough.

In between the knock of someone's elbow here and the jerk of someone's hand there, Anne-Laure was forced to fall to the ground hands first, leaving her in plain sight for the incoming police.

"Mademoiselle! Are you quite all right?!" the nearest gendarme exclaimed.

Anne-Laure looked up in surprise. She was staring straight into the eyes of Inspector Javert.

The two eyed each other for a few fateful seconds. Anne-Laure stared at him with bated breath as she waited for Javert to call her out, exclaim in surprise and fury when he would recognize her. She waited for him to dredge up his memories of the little gamine girl who hung around the Monsieur le Mayor. She waited for him to recognize the little girl who would wreak havoc around a little town by stealing food off windowsills and swiping coins from the pockets of oblivious townspeople.

Javert held out his hand, as if to help me up. "Please, mademoiselle."

'Could it be? Can he not see that I am a ghost from his past?' Anne-Laure thought.

She took his hand and the Inspector pulled her upright.

"Gatherings like this are no place for a young and proper lady, mademoiselle. It would do you good to remember that." he told her in a grave tone.

Anne-Laure couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at that. She knew all too well that he could be saying those very same words to her in another instance, this time in whatever remained of a little rally led by a man in a bright red blazer.

"I will be where the people of Paris are, monsieur."

Javert looked affronted that someone actually dared to defy him. He opened his mouth, ready to scold this ungrateful woman when another figure swooped in.

"My love, there you are!"

Anne-Laure and Javert whipped around towards the direction of the voice. It was Grantaire, a bottle of wine openly swinging around in one of his hands. He teetered over to Anne-Laure, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and planted a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

"The fear in my heart when I lost you, my dear, is inconceivable. Curse these rowdy fools and their unnecessary ruckus. All we wanted was a nice stroll. Next thing I know, I have to use a wine bottle to defend myself from this miscreants in order for me to find you. Thank God the good Inspector was here to protect you. I thank you most sincerely, monsieur, for taking care of my wife." Grantaire removed himself from Anne-Laure to eagerly shake Javert's hand. Both Anne-Laure and Javert stared at Grantaire with wide eyes. Anne-Laure couldn't even tell if the man was sober.

Javert cleared his throat, pulling away from Grantaire's grip. "Of course, monsieur. I will always serve the lawful people of Paris. Now I must assess the situation with the rest of my men. Good day, monsieur. Mademoiselle." He gave a curt nod to the both of them, but Anne-Laure did not miss the way he eyed her suspiciously.

Grantaire wrapped an arm around her once more as Javert walked away, waving away at the man happily. Once he was out of sight, he steered Anne-Laure forcefully away from the scene.

"What did you think you were doing?" he hissed into her ear, practically pushing her off of him once they rounded the corner.

"Believe me, I wasn't looking for trouble." Anne-Laure continued to look at him with an incredulous expression. She could hardly believe the exchange between them and Inspector Javert had happened.

"It would do you good to remember that we can't afford another stunt like this one. If you insist to stick yourself around us at all times, you can't be a suspicious character to the police!" Grantaire exclaimed, seething.

"I would so wish men would stop telling me what to think." Anne-Laure rolled her eyes. "Besides, if you and Enjolras and the rest of them are foolish enough to think you can stage a rally like this one without getting into the police's bad books, then you lot are in for a rather unfortunate surprise."

"Do not call our cause foolish. Do not call him foolish." Grantaire said lowly, stepping forward. His entire figure loomed over Anne-Laure, and before this moment she would have never believed that Grantaire could be someone so terrifying.

"You know that is not what I meant." Anne-Laure insisted.

"I don't know anything about you, mademoiselle." He was mocking her, that much Anne-Laure could see.

"I don't understand what I could have done that would make you treat me like so." Anne-Laure said, looking at him straight in the eye. He laughed just then, an ugly and chilling laugh that made her even more nervous.

"You will never understand me, and you will never understand the cause. Stop causing trouble for our Apollo, he has more important things to think about."

Grantaire left Anne-Laure there, sinking into the crowd as a hunched figure.