Enjolras's restlessness grew as he called her name with no response; for though the

barricade was vast, she should have heard him. "Lynette!" he yelled once more,

deciding to try one final time before alerting the men that she'd disappeared.

"What, what, what? I'm here!" she exclaimed from behind him. He whipped

around to see her jogging towards him, concern plain on her face.

"Where in the world were you?" he probed agitatedly.

"Wha—nothing's wrong then?" she asked quickly, eyebrows knitting

together.

"No, of course not, you were just nowhere to be found!" he articulated.

"Well why was your finding me so crucial then?" she asked, exasperated. He

opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. What had made him so anxious in

the first place? It's not like she would foolishly leave the barricade. "I… I was…

worried, I thought somehow you'd been taken prisoner." He responded, heat rising

to his cheeks.

"Oh. Well, um… thank you for your searching for me, I guess. But look who's

got pre-battle paranoia now?" she stumbled, surprised by his fretfulness, before

finishing with a teasing smile. He chuckled, amused. "Well forgive me; I wouldn't

want one of our revolution's leaders, especially one so intellectually valuable, to fall

into enemy hands."

"Intellectually valuable? Careful sir, you'll make me blush." She shot back,

though he thought he heard a hint of timorousness in her voice.

"You must know by now how much I mean what I say." He said simply. For a

moment it was silent, and Lynette once again looked up at the stars. They shone

down upon them with such light; illuminating the sky and watching over everything

that lay below. She realized that if only one twinkled in the sky each night, the world

would be swallowed up in complete darkness; for that one lone star would have to

shine on its own. But with the hundreds and thousands of others, it formed a radiant

glow, never standing unaccompanied, never getting lost in the night. It reminded her

of their own numbers, and how their light was strong, but not strong enough

without the people they'd anticipated to rise up and join them. "Why do you think

they have not come yet?" she whispered, looking down. Enjolras needed no further

explanation; by the tone in her voice and the aspects of her face, he knew exactly

who she meant. "I don't know. Perhaps they are waiting for just the right moment…

perhaps they want to carry the element of surprise." He replied confidently. She

exhaled luridly, looking up at him with the stars reflecting in her eyes. "Are you

frightened?" the question was barely louder than a breath, but that didn't stop it

from shooting out at him like a slap in the face. All of his concerns, incubuses, and

pessimisms came rushing back all out once; bursting forth from the wall he'd built

up in his mind blocking them. He couldn't answer. He couldn't admit audibly how

slim their chances were. Then it would be there, suspended above him. Then, it

would seem real. "There is still time… there are a few more hours yet for them to

join us." He answered resolutely. She was silent for a moment, but then looked down,

avoiding his eyes, saying, "I always say, 'If I die, I'll die for Patria. But why won't

Patria do the same for me?" He was shocked by her subjugated words; was she

really fearful? He couldn't blame her, but he couldn't believe how quickly she was

losing hope. She, the woman who'd dove headfirst into this revolt without so much

as a second thought. She, who adored her homeland to an extent that rivaled even

his. He couldn't let her deteriorate, he had to remind her why they were here. But

she seemed ashamed of her feelings, her negative words. Her eyes were downcast,

and a small frown disrupted the usual confident optimism that was her pretty face.

"Look at me." he began, stepping closer so that their faces were just inches apart.

"Look at me!" he exclaimed, much more firmly, and, to his relief, he looked up.

"There is still time. And even if they don't come, which, if they hunger for liberation

even half as much as we do, is very unlikely, we'll still have showed these bastards

what true courage is, and we'll finally get to display just how passionately we love

our country." He felt his heartbeat quicken as her felt her warm breath tickling his

cheek, but he tried to ignore the strange reaction. She half smiled at him, looking

him square in the eyes. "You're… you're right. Forgive me, with tensions so high and

one death already so early in the fight, I guess I get a little doubtful. And that doubt

clouds my mind, making me forget the real reason for all of this." Her grin widened,

that radiant, mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes. "What would I do without

your practicality, Enjolras?" she giggled.

"Most likely go mad with paranoia." He kidded back.

"Hey, last time I checked, my suspicions were more accurate than yours." She

fired, pointing at him in a sort of mock-accusation. He opened his mouth only to find

he had no response. He laughed in spite of himself, saying, "As much as I'd like to

retort, what you say is true. We're lucky little Gavroche was around, or else perhaps

we wouldn't be standing here right now." His eyes widened slightly as he realized

what a true statement it was. She simply grinned. "Yes, Gavroche. He's a very clever

child. I like him; he's got the same spunk I see in…"

"Yourself?" Enjolras cut in, amused.

"Finishing my sentences now, eh? Careful, Monsieur. That's a dangerous

game to play with a weaver of words." She laughed, the elated sound cutting through

the night's shadowed silence. It was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders;

hearing her bird-like laughter. Her sorrowful guise had left him feeling anxious, as if

her fear had not only left her vulnerable, but wounded him as well. The expression

of joy was a sort of consolation; after hearing it, he grinned and breathed a sigh of

relief. She was smiling again. "You're absolutely right, I dare not challenge such an

experienced master of speech as you. I'd do nothing but expose myself to shame." He

responded, bowing his head submissively.

"Good choice." She beamed proudly, obviously pleased with his comment. But

after a minute, her smile faded to a weak half grin, and she reached up and touched

his cheek. He was shocked by the intimate action, and prayed that he would not

flush, that she would not hear how his heart had, without warning, sped up to a

throbbing hum. "Lord Enjolras, do you have any idea how worn out you look?" she

whispered, brow creasing in concern as she ran her thumb ever so gently over the

area under his right eye. "My mother used to always tell me, 'Netta, if you get to the

point where you can clearly feel that your bags are as thick as your cheeks, you

haven't slept enough." Enjolras didn't answer. All he could focus on was her

fluttering touch, which contained so much warmth and solace, not to mention

reminded him of his own mother. He hoped his expression didn't look too shocked;

he didn't want her to know just how much this was confusing him. What was wrong

with him? Why couldn't he think straight? Why could he barely remember how to

open his mouth? Instinctively, he shook his head to try to rid himself of the haze, (as

he often did when he was lost in thought) and she, surprised, dropped her hand

immediately. "Oh. Sorry. And I'm sorry if my nagging is annoying you as well, I'm

just worried your being tired will slow you down in the next clash." She explained,

eyes twinkling amusedly.

"Oh no, that's not why… I mean, not that I… just, never mind. It's nearly dawn

now, there's no way I could just lay down to rest. I gave orders for everyone to

remain alert, and that includes myself. Especially myself, in fact." He stumbled before

finishing firmly. He was not going to negotiate, not when he could have new recruits

to instruct at any minute. Obviously his expression explained just that, because she

shook her head with a playful smile, saying, "Be careful of that steadfast

stubbornness, Enjolras. I wouldn't be surprised if it got you killed one day!" Then

she slapped her hand over her mouth, speaking through it, "Oops! That's the wrong

joke to make here."

He simply laughed in reply. "Perhaps…" he teased sarcastically. She smiled,

still chuckling. After a moment of silence, she said, "I'd better go; I was supposed to

find Combeferre to check over our ammunition when I had the chance."

"Oh, alright. Let me know what our numbers are." He bowed his head.

"Of course. Have a good rest of the evening." She returned the gesture,

flashing him a pearly grin.

"Same to you." He smiled back, her contagious beam grasping him. And with

that, she turned on her heel and bounded away, graceful and lively as a young

stallion. He watched her until he ducked out of his line of sight, still curious as to

what about her left him speechless at times and chortling irrepressibly at others.

A/N: Hey! So sorry I didn't update yesterday! It's been a hectic week, with more to come! =/

Anyway; another short chapter! But fear not, brethren! For the next chapter is big and long and one of the most riveting yet! :D

Not much else to say, but have a great day; love you all! R&R! ~DonJuana