A/N: First off, I would like to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. I am a heartless bitch who left you all waiting for far too long! Especially after the 37 REVIEWS you all left me! I mean, I ask for 10 and you all go above and beyond! I attempted to thank each and every one of you for your reviews personally, but I may have slipped up towards the end there. Next, I would like to explain my absence from this story. I often tell my professors that I have a policy of "no excuses" when it comes to my work, whether it be late or sub-par. However, I just completed 6 weeks of summer school, which cut drastically into my writing time. And you can ask Sasha Snape, I quite literally began writing this chapter right after I hit 10 reviews, which was literally the next morning after I had posted. Also, my grandmother very recently passed away, so I have had to be there for my family, and my mental and emotional health during this past week. As I said, no excuses, but I sincerely hope that you accept mine. That being said, I obviously do not expect the same response that came with the last chapter. However, I do hope that you will have stuck with me, and will let me know that you are reading. I can only hope to make it up to you, and hope to have another chapter up before my new year starts next Monday. So please, read, enjoy, and accept my sincerest apologies for having kept you waiting.

Les Filles

Grantaire often liked to tease Enjolras about his obsessive compulsive need to make everything perfect. It was the reason Enjolras often attempted to convince the drunk to stop consuming alcohol by the bucketful. It was also the reason that nobody but Combeferre could stand to live with him for any extended amount of time. Therefore, the idea of someone else coming in to his home to do a job that he was quiet capable of doing was…off-putting, to say the least. Joly was correct when he said that the men were disconcerted by his frequent absences from their meetings, but Enjolras still felt torn.

Enjolras could not help but chuckle under his breath as he stood in the small kitchen of his apartment. He sipped from the water in his glass as he pondered that notion. For the first time in years, Gabriel Enjolras was being torn away from the revolution. For the first time ever, he was being torn away from it by a woman. He knew that he felt nothing more than compassion and gratitude towards Eponine, but he still felt an unease settling in his chest at the idea of leaving her alone with Musichetta (whom he had only met a handful of times before) while he attended lectures in the morning, and led the meetings at the Musain throughout the afternoon and into the night. Over the past few days, he had grown accustomed to caring for Eponine and spending his entire day with her. He had opened himself to her, however hesitantly, and was now fearful of what would happen when they were separated. Neither of them were what one would call 'open people', but they had opened up to one another.

Of course, Enjolras knew that this would be best for them. He did not need to be distracted by Eponine and her feminine ways, while she did not need a man in her life that was constantly distracted by something else, as Marius had been and like he, Enjolras, always would be. "Perhaps," Enjolras pondered, sipping from his glass of water as he stared out the window onto the hustle and bustle of Paris in the early morning. "Perhaps in another life, things would have been different. Even if I did have romantic feelings for Eponine, I have the revolution to worry about. Besides, I would not take advantage of a woman in her position. She has to focus solely on regaining her memory."

He turned at the sound of a soft sigh, watching Eponine come out of his—"her!", he reminded himself sternly—bedroom. She was wearing, he noted with a gulp, one of the night shirts that he found to be quite frivolous. It came down to her mid-thigh, Enjolras noticed right before he averted his eyes in gentlemanly politeness.

Eponine, not noticing his reaction, tousled her hair as she yawned, walking into the kitchen. "Good morning, Gabriel," she said cheerfully, joining him at the window.

"Good morning, Eponine," he replied. He noticed that, in his attempts to distance himself from her, he had taken to calling her by her name rather than the nickname of 'Epona', but did not give himself a chance to examine that notion further. "How did you sleep?" He asked, offering her a glass of water.

Eponine looked down at it shyly, grasping it in her hands as though it would disappear if she did not hold it tight enough, or if she took her eyes off of it for one moment. "I slept very well, as usual, Gabriel. I have never been more comfortable, I do not think."

"Good, good," Enjolras mumbled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She looked tense and troubled, as if something was bothering her. It was a different look from when she was trying to remember something from her past. At those moments, she looked like she was in pain, and her facial expression always caused him to react by distracting her from her thoughts. In that moment, her expression caused a completely different reaction. He moved closer to her, and gently brushed her arm. She looked up at him with her wide, glassy eyes. "What is bothering you, Epona?" Enjolras sighed internally as he noticed his slip back into familiar terms of address.

Eponine looked startled for a moment, as if she hadn't realized that he was there. "I guess I am just nervous about today. I am a gamine, this Musichetta will only see me as a common street rat!" Eponine cried, almost allowing her cup to slip from her hands. The water inside sloshed as her hands shook.

"This Musichetta will think no such thing!" Enjolras turned slightly to see the busty, red-headed barmaid waltz into his apartment, allowing the door to slam behind her.

Enjolras shook his head ruefully, knowing that it was Musichetta's energy and lack of social boundaries that had both Joly and Bossuet enraptured with her. He nodded his greeting to her before looking at Eponine, who had frozen in her spot. He slowly moved to take the glass from her hand and placed it on the counter that was next to them. She looked up at him with slightly glassy eyes. Enjolras guessed that the sudden appearance of a total stranger as well as Musichetta's loud voice had scared her.

"I am so sorry for just bursting in here, but Joly walked me here before going to classes. Enjolras, I thought you were already gone, and obviously Eponine wouldn't know who I am, so I thought I would just let myself in. Many apologies if I startled you."

Eponine nodded slowly before quietly saying, "It is alright, Mademoiselle. I apologize for insulting you with what I said."

"Oh, pish-posh, my girl!" Musichetta laughed. "If small insinuations about my character were going to bother me, I would never leave the house! Besides, you could not have known any better!" She laid her bag on the counter and embraced Eponine, kissing both of her cheeks. "I am Musichetta, and you are Eponine. Labels or class striations do not matter between friends." Musichetta told her, looking her straight in the eye. Suddenly, she turned on Enjolras. "You, mon ami, need to get to class! Go, shoo!" She waved him away, laughing as he quickly grabbed his bag from beside the front door and went into the hallway. Eponine waved to him from her place by the window, giggling slightly at Musichetta's antics. The sight of Eponine's laughter and the smile on her face was enough to relax Enjolras to the point of being able to allow Musichetta to kick him out of his home.

Musichetta followed him out into the hallway for a brief moment.

"Mademoiselle, thank you again for doing this. It is a great relief to me that Eponine will be taken care of during my absences." Enjolras said sincerely, grasping Musichetta's hand between both of his. He released her hand only to dig in his bag, pulling out a large sum of money. "Please, take her out for the day on my expense. I promised her some new clothes, as well as a pair of shoes. Can you please do that for me, as well as treat both of you to a mid-day meal?"

Musichetta reluctantly took the money and placed it in one of the pockets of her dress. "Enjolras, please do not fret. I will take care of everything here. You go to class and change the world."

"Merci, mademoiselle." With that, Enjolras turned and walked away, feeling more confident in Musichetta's abilities than he had when he woke up that morning.

Musichetta re-entered the apartment after watching Enjolras' blond curls disappear down the stairs. Eponine was sitting right where they had left her, looking out the window of the small kitchen. Musichetta came to stand beside her, quickly transferring the money Enjolras had just given her from her pocket into her bag.

"Let me apologize once again for startling you before, Eponine. Everything Joly told me this morning about you slipped my mind completely in my excitement to meet you." Musichetta stated, feeling awful. Joly and Bossuet had told her about Eponine's condition, including her complete and total breakdown the previous night at the Musain. Musichetta had not been working that night due to a family emergency that had turned out to be nothing too urgent. Still, Musichetta's heart went out to the poor girl and she resolved to try and make the day as carefree and fun as possible. Musichetta grabbed Eponine's hand, causing the younger girl to look at her. "What do you say about getting out of this apartment for the day? You must be craving some fresh air, and we could get you some new clothes and have something to eat?"

Eponine looked at her with a look of apprehension and hope. This woman of higher status was treating her like an equal, like a friend. But still, Eponine knew that leaving the safety of these four walls would build up any walls that had been torn down by both Enjolras and Musichetta. The outside world would only see her as a common street rat, even if she did get new clothes and have friends who were part of the upper crust of society, though they did not act like it.

"I am not so sure that is a good idea, Mademoiselle. People may treat you differently because you are with me." Eponine looked so ashamed of herself that Musichetta could not resist pulling the poor girl into a tight hug.

She pulled back and looked Eponine straight in the eye. "First of all, I am no 'mademoiselle'. I am Musichetta, an independent woman who happens to be in a relationship with two different men; I am no dainty little bourgeois girl. Second, any person who judges others based on their monetary and economic worth is not the type of person I would want to ingratiate myself towards." When Eponine nodded in understanding, Musichetta continued. "Now, let's go find you some clothes that will make Enjolras break through that marble façade!"

Eponine turned bright red and sputtered. "He—I—we—Musichetta!"

Musichetta giggled as she tossed Eponine the boots that she had used the previous night. "I am sorry Eponine; I could not resist teasing you. It is only that, from what Joly and Bossuet say, Enjolras has shown more emotion towards you than he has in the entire time they have known him!"

Eponine tugged her boots on, staring stubbornly at the floor. "He is being a gentleman, nothing more. He could never feel anything for me but concern."

"Well then, let's try to change that, shall we?"


Eponine and Musichetta walked arm-in-arm down the busy streets of Paris. They were headed to a reputable dress-maker that Musichetta knew personally, whom she knew would not treat Eponine with disdain.

Eponine could feel the eyes of people upon her. The bourgeois who were walking down the street glared at her as if she was scum. The gamins that lined the streets, begging for food and money, looked at her as if she were a traitor to her own people.

"Eponine?" She turned her head to look at Musichetta. "I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but I was just wondering how much you actually remember about your life."

"How do you know how much memory you have lost if you've lost it, Musichetta?" At Musichetta's sympathetic look, Eponine went on to answer both of their questions. "I can remember parts of my childhood, such as scamming good people out of their money and goods at the behest of my parents. I remember my sister, but I didn't remember my brother until I encountered him yesterday. I remember the little girl who lived with us until she was taken away by a rich man. I remember a young man who was my friend until he turned into a monster, but I don't remember what he looks like. I remember moving to Paris and some of my time on the streets. I remember meeting Monsieur Marius and the rest of Les Amis. I remember being in love with Monsieur Marius, but that feeling has been ruined by what he did to me. I remember some things in flashes, like lightening, but other things come upon me like rolling thunder. As I said," Eponine finished. "I am not sure what I do not remember because I do not remember it."

Musichetta grasped Eponine's arm a little tighter, causing her to look at her. "I am sorry for your past as well as your present situation. No one should have to live in squalor."

Eponine shrugged her shoulders while gazing around at the various store windows they were passing. "If there's nothing to remember, then there's nothing left to grieve, I suppose."

Musichetta could not believe that this young woman was so downtrodden. She knew from Joly and Bossuet that there were people like this living in Paris, but she had never met one, nor had she ever become friends with one. But here she was, walking down the road with a young girl who had lived such a difficult life, but still managed to keep her head up. Musichetta would have hugged her, but she doubted that action would make Eponine happy. She struck Musichetta as a girl who held people at a distance, even if she had quickly bonded herself with Enjolras. Instead, she pulled Eponine off to the right side of the road, coming to stand in front of the dress shop where Eponine would be buying her new clothes.

"Ready?" Musichetta asked with a grin. Eponine looked extremely hesitant, but Musichetta just laughed at her and pulled her into the store.

No one was there when they entered, but an older woman came in from the back of the store when she heard the tiny bell above the door ring.

"Ahh, Musichetta, darling!" She hurried around the front counter and embraced Musichetta. Musichetta laughed as she embraced the woman as well, before pulling back to kiss the woman on both cheeks.

"Avis, I would like you to meet my new friend, Eponine. Eponine, this is Avis, my aunt. She's promised to help make you some new clothes!" Avis pulled away from Musichetta and wrapped her arms around Eponine, embracing her the same way she had embraced her niece. She had a wrinkled and grizzled face, but it did nothing to take away from the warmth in both her smile and her eyes.

"Well then, Eponine. Let us attempt to make you more beautiful than you already are."


Eponine was unsure as to what was worse: the beatings she had endured at the hands of her father, or standing still for three hours while Musichetta showed her various fabrics and patterns and colours for her dresses and Avis poked and prodded her with pins and needles as she made the dresses fit her perfectly. A few of them were sample dresses that Avis would just be pinning and cutting that day so that Eponine could take them home with her, while two others were being made specially. One such dress was an emerald green dress with half sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Musichetta had insisted on the colour and style of the dress when her aunt had shown it to her. The other was a red satin ball gown.

Eponine insisted that she would never have need for such a dress and that she was wasting Enjolras' money. Musichetta had blown her off, explaining that she would obviously be wearing the beautiful dress to Combeferre's wedding.

"But Musichetta," Eponine hissed as yet another pin stabbed into her hip.

"I'm sorry dear, but you are so skinny that I'm having difficulty discerning the dress material from your skin. I am very sorry." Avis continued to fret over the dress and pinning it just right while her niece was looking at various shoes that were stored in corner of the store. They had already chosen a nice, comfortable pair of leather boots for everyday wear. Now Musichetta was looking for a pair of high heeled slippers that could be dyed red to go with Eponine's dress.

"Musichetta, I haven't even been invited to the wedding! I am not acquainted with Combeferre's bride, and I have only spent a few moments with Combeferre! I highly doubt that I will be invited to their wedding!" Eponine complained.

Musichetta pulled a pair of white slippers out of the stack of shoes, and put them on the front counter. "Eponine, don't worry! I spoke it over with Hélène last night. Combeferre practically begged Enjolras to escort a young lady to the wedding, and he will be bringing you!"

Eponine flushed. "I do not want him to feel obligated to bring me to the wedding. He has already done so much for me," she mumbled under her breath.

"Well, either way you are coming to the wedding. Hélène has already been informed." Musichetta informed her sternly. "Now, put these shoes on. I want to see if they fit you properly before we dye them."


It was another hour before they left the dress shop with a promise by Avis that Eponine's new dresses would be finished by nightfall. Musichetta said that she would inform Joly when he stopped in to check on them before he went to the café, and that he would tell Enjolras, who would pick them up on his way home.

The two girls left the store in relatively high spirits, with Eponine only bearing a few battle wounds from the pins. Their plan was to stop by one of the small stores to buy a few soaps and oils for Eponine to bathe in, and then stop at one of the bakeries for a small luncheon.

As they walked towards the store, Eponine noticed a small, malnourished red-head standing outside of a high end jewelry store. The shifty-eyed way she looked around, paired with her tattered clothes and bruised arms gave Eponine pause. She hurried up to the young woman, dragging Musichetta behind her.

"Azelma!" Eponine cried, embracing her younger sister in much the same way that she had embraced Gavroche the night before.

"'Ponine!" Azelma cried, shocked at the sight of her older sister, alive and well. "I thought you were dead!"

"Why would you think that, silly?" Eponine smiled down at her sister, completely obtuse to the situation she was in.

Azelma peered around, as if to ensure that nobody was listening. "Because 'Parnasse came in about a week ago and told everybody that you were dead!" Azelma stared at her sister's shocked face for a moment before luck struck her and she noticed Monteparnasse and Papa lurking in the shadows. They both had their backs towards her, so they hadn't noticed Eponine or her grisette friend. "Eponine, you have to get out of here!"

"Azelma, what are you going on about?" Eponine wondered about her sister's health. She looked even more underfed than she had when Eponine had been living with her. The fear in Azelma's eyes stopped any further questioning.

"'Ponine, please! If you have any sense at all, please go!" Azelma pushed her sister away when she tried to come closer. "Go, 'Ponine. I promise I will be alright!" she whispered harshly.

"Azelma, if you can, come to the Café Musain tomorrow night. You and Eponine can catch up there." Musichetta ordered, quickly taking stock of the situation.

"I'll come if I can, Mademoiselle." Azelma nodded at the strange woman standing by Eponine as she tugged her sister away, leaving Azelma standing there, keeping watch for Claquesous as he looted the shop behind her.

Azelma watched the two women walk away, not noticing Montparnasse advancing on her.

"Who was that?" he shouted at her, looming above her in a terrifying stance. He grabbed her and shook her. "Who were you just talking to?"

"No one, 'Parnasse! Promise!" Azelma replied, her voice shaking with fear as well as the force with which he was shaking her.

"You little bitch! I know you're lying! That looked like Eponine! I swear girl, if it was, I'll kill you before finishing the job myself!" With that, Montparnasse slapped her across the face, knocking her over onto the cobblestone beneath her feet.

Azelma raised a hand to her aching cheek, watching Montparnasse and her father walking away together.


A/N: And there you have it. My apology chapter, chalk full of amusing Musichetta, her lovely Aunt (who may in some way be a literary version of my grandmother that I included subconsciously), Azelma, and that evil rat named Montparnasse. I hope that you enjoyed it, and I do hope that you review, though I doubt that you will, and I accept that as my punishment for not having updated sooner.

Also, you all can follow me on Twitter at nikkisinclair3. Of course, add the 'at' symbol.