Hi readers! Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoy these characters as much as I do. This chapter is kind of a prelude to something big, and I hope you can catch the *not so subtle* foreshadowing. Enjoy!

For the first time in his life, Gabriel Enjolras was in love. Just how deeply one could not be sure, but one thing was certain: Annette had changed him somehow. Enjolras felt this change come over him gradually, and one day he could no longer look himself in the mirror without noticing it.

His eyes shone brighter, fiercer, more determinedly. Others thought it just another display of his fervor for the revolution. Yet Enjolras was ashamed to accept that it was not. Instead, he had seemingly fallen into the trap that he'd chastised many of his friends for: love.

Enjolras dared not confide in Combeferre just yet. He needed to see and fully understand just where he and Annette stood. Moreover, what did he want? For it is one thing to be in love. It is another to act on it.

Meanwhile, Courfeyrac's roommate became the conversation of many of the Amis. He entered several times with Courfeyrac and greeted Bossuet, but he'd leave just moments later, often without a word to anyone. Enjolras was curious about this odd fellow with whom Courfeyrac was such good friends. Tall, slender, pale, thick and curly black hair, he was the very image of handsome young scholars. Yet there was no denying there was something in his manner, which was shy and awkward, that indicated that he was not so simple as he might appear. He'd never directly spoken to Enjolras, but on occasion Enjolras had caught him watching him. Quite frankly, he was off-putting with his silent opinions. Why, Enjolras did not even know whether the man was a supporter of the king!

One night, Enjolras told Courfeyrac, "Why don't you bring that Pontmercy fellow over to a meeting? We need all the new members we can get, and from what you've told us he is very knowledgeable in a vast range of subjects."

Courfeyrac was hesitant to reply. "I don't think so."

"Why not? Is he political?" Courfeyrac said nothing. It suddenly dawned on Enjolras. His face grew grim. "He is a republican, is he not?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "That, mon *frere, is something you can take up with him." He grinned into his mug of ale as Enjolras stared at him in mixed confusion and irritation.

Courfeyrac set down his ale and threw an arm around Enjolras' shoulder cheerfully. Enjolras turned and gave him a dangerous glare, and after some consideration Courfeyrac thought better of the action and released his arm.

"So, mon ami, I see you have become very good friends with Annie." He gestured to Annette, who was sitting at the piano with Jehan. Enjolras watched her laugh at something he said, tossing her head back in merriment as Jehan looked very pleased. He wondered what they were talking about; was she telling him about their piano duet?

Courfeyrac elbowed him good-naturedly in the side. Enjolras snapped to attention. "What is it, *asticot?"

Courfeyrac laughed loudly. "Your ignorance, Enjolras. Your head flew off your feet just looking at her."

Enjolras coldly replied, "She is a more productive member of this group than you are, Courfeyrac. She takes this cause seriously, and I do not regret letting her entry into the Friends of the ABC."

"Is that so? Well, she will be very pleased to hear it, I am sure. Would you like me to tell her yourself?"

"Tell who?" Suddenly Annette appeared, and came and sat down next to Courfeyrac. Her cheeks were pink from laughing and her eyes sparkled in their lively way. Enjolras forced himself to remain cold and unfeeling.

"I was telling Courfeyrac you had many new plans for the revolution. He was interested, and perhaps may wish to take a look at what you drew."

Courfeyrac nodded slowly, watching the two of them. " I would like that very much, Annie, only I fear I must be off. I'm meeting Marius today to give him some books." Annette nodded as he went out, with a bounce in his step indicating that he was, in fact, meeting someone. Whether that someone were Marius or a girl, well, one may trust Courfeyrac's character.

Annette smiled at Enjolras. "Would you like to join me at the piano, Monsieur?"

Enjolras looked away. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I have too much work to attend to at the moment." Annette looked disappointed, and for a split second Enjolras was tempted to change his mind.

But no. This was how it was supposed to be. At least for the present. And it was best that she knew. Really, it was better this way.

Annette spoke again, softly, curiously. Her brazen tone was gone. "Is everything alright? I thought we were...working well together?"

Enjolras drew in a breath. The resolutions he'd made just seconds ago disappeared. Did this mean she truly cared for him as well? He had to be sure...

"I just need time," he said quietly. "For now could we just be partners in the revolution?" He liked the sound of his words. They were very matter of fact, logical, nothing implied or romanticized.

Annette was silent. Then she rose and said, if not a bit coldly, "Of course, Monsieur. Not to worry. I am lucky that Monsieur Jehan can play, and I believe we sound very well together." She nodded and walked away.

Enjolras sighed. It was time for him to go.

On his way home, Enjolras found himself once again in his inevitable conflict; love or revolution? For it seemed that the two could not be combined: it must be one or the other. Now was the time to make his choice. And it truly appeared that there was only one possible choice.

"I always say a bit of autumn air can do one very well, can it not, Monsieur?" The silky voice stirred a memory in Enjolras' mind, and he quickly turned to face the speaker. The man with Annette's letters.

The man had foregone the ratty worker's clothes he'd used to impersonate Feuilly. Now he wore a long black overcoat, made of very fine fabric, though clearly worn out. His slick black hair shone in the moonlight, and he twirled a threadbare hat in his gloveless hands. Enjolras felt that he was seeing the true form of this man: fallen from wealth and status and position.

Enjolras said, "Tell me what it is you want or I will call the gendarmes."

The man laughed drily. "What makes you think I won't tell them about your illegal politics?"

Enjolras wracked his mind, trying to find a way to counter his evasiveness. "Because I know there is something you want from me. And you cannot have it unless you pass me."

The stranger smiled bitterly. "What fools you people are! Thinking the world revolves around you alone! What fools!" He murmured to himself. "To be one of them again, well..."

He nodded grimly. "Yes, Gabriel Enjolras, there is something I want from you, and something I want you to know. But be prepared for the very worst."

"What are your intentions?" Enjolras asked, taking a step closer to this man, trying to sense him out. He would get his answers tonight. "Why do you have Mademoiselle Annette's possessions?"

"Ah, the Mademoiselle," the man sneered. "Everything comes back to her, doesn't it?" He twirled his hat some more, and Enjolras took another step forward, prepared to fight him if need be. He was dangerous and foolish, and he presented harm to the Friends of the ABC. He'd threatened him once before, and he clearly would try again.

"I am warning you, whoever you are," Enjolras said coldly, "you have no business here. If you make any attempt to harm my friends, you will suffer."

The man smiled a terrible smile. "I have no doubt. You wish to know who I am? I will tell you. To you I am the *Maîtriser. Or Blaise may do as well, though I don't think it has the same ring to it, don't you?"

Something in Enjolras seemed to fit into place when he heard that name. A feeling of unease settled into his chest, and he took a step back. Where had he heard the name before? Somewhere...

Blaise pulled out the same thick roll of papers he'd shown before. Enjolras stiffened.

"Let me make you a deal, Gabriel. You want these papers, don't you? Any good leader needs to know what his members might be hiding, especially when that member is very pretty..." he grinned horribly, and Enjolras lunged at him.

"Ah, I would be careful, Gabe. You see, you are one, while I..." he gestured around. Enjolras suddenly noticed tall figures lurking in the shadows. They were not alone. "As I was saying, you can have these papers. All I want is for you to listen to what I say next. I know someone who will make your revolution great."

Enjolras stared at him.

"I will not be blackmailed," he said, and turned his back and left. Before he turned the corner, he heard Blaise.

"I know what's best for you, Gabe. Let her go. You are meant for greater things than a sick little girl."

Enjolras froze. He tried to resist the nagging thought recurring in his brain. But he knew he was right: his first priority was the revolution.

"You will not speak of her in that way," he said, and walked up to Blaise and grabbed his collar. Blaise smiled back, but a glimmer of fear was in his eyes. Enjolras pushed him away and was determined to leave.

"Soon you will be begging me to help you, Gabe. And I will be here, waiting."

When Enjolras reached his apartment he felt his coat pockets, noticing a bulge. With a sick, heavy feeling in his stomach he withdrew a heavy roll of papers, written in a familiar hand.

*frere — brother

*asticot — maggot (meant as a friendly term)

*maîtriser — master