Thank you for all your support! I love you guys for the reviews and alerts! They brighten my boring summer:)

To clear up any confusion from last chapter: Green Fairy is Absynthe. Which is a very strong type of alcohol, so it would NOT be good for someone who is pregnant.

Disclaimer: I own a super cool pencil.

"Enjolras was always our favorite..." Christelle was babbling as we sat in the parlor and waited for her husband to come out of his second consecutive meeting of the morning.

I didn't ask what sort of business he was involved in, and Christelle made to notion to tell us. I figured it was mostly respectable but also a little sly-dealing. Why else would they be familiar with my father? I mean, we were known, but by word of mouth. Thenardiers only did business with people worth doing business with. Mama used to say we didn't have a coin to our name, but we had enough knowledge of people's dirty doings to keep gossip halls and gossip rags putting out stories for the next century. And with the way my father worked, it wasn't hard to believe. Involuntarily, I touched my cheek but quickly brought my hand back to my lap. I'd watched people crack under pressure just at the sight of my father's knife. Others were more determined. But in the end, everyone cracked. People weren't hard or devoted to their beliefs. People are devoted to themselves. You threaten them with pain, a mark, or even death, and they all come to their senses to protect the one person they love more than anything. I looked at Christelle for a few moments as she droned on. Under all those layers, under all that fabric, I wondered if mama had left her mark somewhere on the woman.

"Eleanor was just such a wild child..."

So far, the visit seemed more painful for Elle and Enjolras. I didn't know what Grantaire and everyone else was so horrified by. Maybe Jean had two heads or a missing finger or something. Even then, though, I'd seen worse. I couldn't help but feel sorry Elle. My father was horrible, but he never openly chose favorites like Christelle was doing. Sure, some could say that by him not forcing Azelma into the streets was the ultimate act of favoritism. But I don't believe it. Why put both of us out there when one is sufficient? Why force both of your daughters to witness and take part of horrible things? Besides, I always pictured myself my father's favorite. He taught me everything he knows. I got to go on raids with him, I got to stalk out properties for the gang while the owners slept or were out, and I got to give marks while he stood there and coaxed information or money out of people who owed us. And what did Azelma get? Chores at the Inn. To me, my father gave me his trust.

"...and then finding her with that boy..."

He was there with me the first time I made my own mark. Not practicing on the bar stools at the Inn with a razor. Nor the dead rodents mama had skinned for dinner. The first time I ever made it on a live being. It sent chills down my back just thinking about it. I cried down at the docks with the whores for days afterward until father found me and told me to grow some skin. He told me we were cheated by that old man, and when you cheat anyone you deserve to be reminded of it. He had said that I did society a favor. People would know he's a cheat, and with a daily reminder, he'd think twice before he ever did it again. At the time the words made sense, made me feel better. But now? I can't help but think my father would have said anything just to justify our actions. Anything he said was gold to me, though. He had been my idol, once upon a time. I absently rested my hand on my abdomen. I'd rather my child grow up without a father than idolize one like I had.

"Eponine."

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at Elle when she called for my attention.

"I'm sorry." I apologized.

Christelle clicked her tongue. "Oh, my dear, you should learn to get your head out of those clouds, or you'll never see what's in front of you." So I'm learning. "I asked about your family. I know you said your father is absent, but surely your mother must be twice the woman then?"

Hardly. "My mother raised me and my two siblings by herself mostly. She never wanted to hire help, because she didn't want us confusing paid compassion for maternal compassion." In all honesty, Azelma and I were raised by anyone who walked through the doors to the Inn. Up until we each turned ten, people thought we were the cutest things. Gavroche was gone the moment he could walk and talk independently.

"You have two siblings?" Enjolras asked, truly intrigued.

I nodded and addressed his mother, "I have a sister not even two years younger, and a brother who's to turn eleven this winter." I bit my tongue after I said it. There was more than five year age difference between Gavroche and me.

"Where were you raised?" Christelle didn't even seem to pick up on my falter.

"Rue Plummet." I said, thinking of the street I found Marius on the last night.

"Very acceptable." Christelle grinned in approval. "And what of your family know? Are you still on Rue Plummet?"

"My mother travels mostly." I lied. "My sister and I live in the same complex as Enjolras. She's in love with some drunk school boy, though. I'm convinced she'll leave with him any day now." Elle scowled and Grantaire grinned. "And my brother ran away not long after mother went to England. Last I heard, he's quite taken with the revolutionary talk and keeps company with the rebels."

"Gavroche?" Enjolras splurt out.

"What was that, my dear?" Christelle looked over at him.

"Nothing, just a sneeze." Enjolras itched his nose.

"Bless you." Grantaire smirked. "Anyway, my love, you were telling us about your family. Your brother's with the rebels you say?"

I nodded, "The ones from the university."

Christelle made a noise of utter disgust, "Those rebels." She rolled her eyes. "France has given them so much, and how do they repay her? With disloyal thoughts? The nerve. You'll find your brother and drag him back by the ear if you know what's good for your family. We have a friend, an Inspector in Paris-"

"You have a friend." Eleanor muttered.

Her mother shot her a look but continued: "He says that they're building a force to squash the rebellion before it even starts." I noticed Enjolras paying close attention. "If only more men thought like him." She cast a sour glance at her husband's door. "Eleanor and her father have never liked the good Inspector. My Enjolras, though, he has a good head on his shoulders." She smiled brightly.

"Mother..." Enjolras frowned.

"Let me have my moments, darling. It's been-"

"For God's sake, Christelle, don't bore the company with your biased rants. Do you want to run Elle off for seven years next?"

My heart sank past my stomach. His high collar and cravat he wore hid it, but I'd recognize him anywhere at any age. It was him. My heart sped up with an all new set of nerves. Of all people. I thanked God silently when he paid no attention to anyone else in his company but his son.

"Enjolras." He gave his son a nod.

"Father." Enjolras stood and said uncertainly.

"We were just talking about our dear friend the Inspector." Christelle informed him. Maybe as a way to ease the tension?

"Your dear friend." Jean and Elle corrected her.

Christelle waved her hand and rolled her eyes, "Technicalities."

"How've you been?" Jean asked Enjolras as if they'd only been parted for weeks.

"Well." Enjolras told him. "Busy." He added.

"I guess we know where all the money we give Elle is going now." Jean said to his wife. "You look tired. Have you slept?" Enjolras shared a look with Grantaire before telling his father he had. "Well, you're here yearly, so I assume the voyage out here was taken at an early hour?" Enjolras nodded. "Sorrel and Ames, please draw up some tea and prepare the west wing parlor for us?" The two servants bowed and left in a mild rush. His use of 'please' made me think that the servants liked him better than his wife.

"My love, this is Monsieur Grantaire and Mademoiselle Thenardier." Christelle introduced me and drunk after everyone had stood. "No relation to the infamous Thenardiers." I felt a feeling of pride when she called us infamous.

"I wasn't aware there were any other Thenardiers." He replied, looking at me the same way Enjolras does when he thinks I've moved his things around.

"Now you are." I said before I could stop myself.

"She's got a mouth like a Thenardier." He grunted, rubbing his hand over his neck. Whether on purpose or not, I wasn't sure.

Enjolras and Elle both gave me the same look as their father lead everyone from the room. I shrugged it off but felt bad about the comment. I forgot, we were doing this whole false profile business. I shook my head as Grantaire stuck his tongue out at me. At least he was as normal as he could get without a spot of alcohol. We trailed the group, Elle dutifully walked behind her mother with her head bowed, and the men were before them.

"My mother wears the pants at my household. Societal norms don't really hinder or help. My father is a very passive man." Grantaire whispered. "I'm an only child; I'm allergic to shellfish; I'm studying politics at the university; and I'm passing with the highest marks."

"Are you really?" I couldn't hide my surprise. I'd have thought he was close to failing. "You know how..." I touched my cheek and he nodded. "I bet you anything he has one." I finished, looking at the master of the house.

"Name your kid after me."

"What?"

"Seriously. I'll take the bet." Grantaire grinned.

"Fine." I smiled.

"What if you win?"

"Then I won't have to name my kid after you. It's a reward, trust me."

Sorrel and Ames had the parlor waiting for us. Ames was standing in the corner by a door as we entered. He was an older man, tall, lean, and wispy looking. His face was relaxed but every other muscle was tensed. He could have been someone's grandfather, someone's father, someone's uncle...he was here, though. And he was probably here before dawn and well after dusk. I could imagine that he lived well over a mile away, so he ran on minimal sleep each day. He probably wasn't bringing that much home to his family. There was probably another job, too. I sighed quietly. He hardly seemed the type to complain, though. He was probably even thankful of his employers. Because, he would say each night to himself, at least I have clothes on my back, food in my belly, and a job to go to. It was true. Even if his mistress was seeming to be bat crap crazy, at least he had a job.

Christelle chatted away, cooed over, and listened with many interruptions as Enjolras was practically interviewed on everything from the past seven years. Elle sat next to her mother, sipping her tea once and a while, gazing out the windows down on the back lawn where Cade was tending to the horses. I wondered if Cade had gotten his job because of Elle or stayed because of her. Or both, I suppose. Enjolras was leaning against the baby grand piano, his body shifted away from his mother, but his head in her direction. I stared at him mostly but caught myself glancing at his father every so often. I watched the way Enjolras let said certain things, the way lies rolled off his tongue, and the way the truth bursted out. He clenched his jaw a lot when his mother talked. Our baby would be lucky if she or he looked like Enjolras. He truly was attractive. More so then he probably gave himself credit for. I took a few deep breaths once horrible things started playing in my head. Well, not horrible, just things he probably wouldn't be okay with under his childhood home.

"Oh please," Elle rolled her eyes at someone Enjolras said.

"Eleanor!"

"Enjolras isn't a blacksmith for the city." She laughed. "He's just saying what he thinks you want to hear, mother. He's still the same mama's boy he was when he walked out of this place. He lives in the flat across from me with these two and her sister."

"Elle." Enjolras warned.

"Sorrel, some wine." Elle ordered. "He's been sharing my bank account since I arrived in Paris, as daddy already pointed out. He's studying at the university. Law. And he's not disaffiliated with politics. He's in the center of it. Enjolras has been the leader of group of schoolboys, in which Grantaire is involved with, who are part of the rebel forces under Lamarque." Elle downed the glass of wine Sorrel had brought her rather quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to wait to tell them that, or were you going to keep spitting lies at their face? I can keep going about your other affairs if you want." She ended with a look at me. Jean followed her lead, taking time to do his best critical assessment before someone talked again. I stared wide-eyed between the siblings, pretending like I didn't know their father's eye was on me.

"Eleanor!" Christelle shrieked. "That is ENOUGH!" Elle let out a frustrated noise and stormed out. "The gall of that girl to spew such lies. And in front of company no less!" Christelle cried as Enjolras sank onto the piano bench.

"But she wasn't, was she?" Jean asked solemnly, taking his gaze off of me and turning to his son.

"I'm a leader in the rebellion." Enjolras said softly, and Christelle made a fainting-like noise. "I'm in my last year at the university, earning a law degree. Eponine and her sister are renting out a spare room in the flat." So everything else is okay to come out the truth, but I'm still your best kept secret? We're still your best kept secret? I felt a little resentful. Even if he had said he was protecting me. I saw nothing I needed protection from. Expect maybe his father when he realizes I'm one of the Thenardiers.

Christelle clutched her heart. "My boy...what happened to you?"

"Hush, woman, he stopped drinking his mother's milk." Jean snapped. I frowned at the thought of a sixteen year old still taking his mother's milk. Ew. Ouch. It hurts my boobs just thinking about it. He wasn't speaking literally, of course, but still.

"I've seen what the slums are like and how the people live. Obviously France doesn't have our best interests at heart."

"Ah!" Christelle turned her face away from him.

His father was smiling, though. He let out a chuckle, "You know Lamarque?" Jean leaned forward, welcoming his son, I guess.

"I work for him." Enjolras nodded. "He's been a role model of sorts."

Jean laughed again. "Well how about that." He rubbed his hands together and patted his son's knee.

Elle stayed lost for most of the day, but I thought I caught a glimpse of her hiding in the stables when two maids under Sorrel went out walking with me. The guys stayed in the west wing for a while but then went down to locked room in the south wing and stayed until Ames fetched them for dinner. I had no idea what Christelle did. But I can tell you how royally pissed she was when we left that parlor. She didn't even speak at dinner. She sat there, like a prim and proper lady of society, and just cleared her throat when she was ready to leave the table. It was like the whole idea of Enjolras leading a rebel army was appalling. I mean, it's a bit comical to think that someone who's never shot a gun could possibly lead a bunch of boys off to battle, but I wouldn't say appalling. I tried getting the maids to talk to me about life before Enjolras took off, but they just grinned and shook their heads. They laughed when I assumed how things went. But stayed deadly quiet when I suggested that the family had been split physically and emotionally because of political differences. They giggled more than they were silent, though. It made me wish that Sorrel had taken the walk with me instead. But I had a feeling she was Christelle's favorite accessory.

I wasn't allowed to walk anywhere but the back garden, but even that took me from noon til supper time. Like the front garden, the back was overly large and harbored plenty of different species of plants. It was gorgeous, I wouldn't take that away, but it was a bit excessive at points. When I made a comment about how many gardeners they must have had, one of the maids giggled and said more. I said twenty! I bet the Durands could find a job for everyone in my slum neighborhood. I tell you, they must have staffed well over one hundred. Would Enjolras inherit all of this when his parents died? Good Lord. I'd marry him in a heartbeat if it meant restaffing this place with my people. They could all have the east and south wing. It'd be more than enough. Then Enjolras and I could have the north wing with our family; and Azelma could have the west wing with her family. What one family needed all these wings and servants? Mama always said who needed servants when you had children?

"If I throw a glove, will one of you go and fetch it?" I had asked as we walked the halls. "Or would both of you?"

They giggled.

"I could think of super cute dog names to call you unless, of course, you told me your names."

"Marie." The blonde pipped.

"Nette." The brunette followed.

Then they giggled.

"Alright, Marie and Nette, is there a room that has something interesting to look at?" They shared a devious look. "I mean, afterall, it's getting dark with the sun setting, way too cold for fragile old me...And for all you know, I could be pregnant or prone to getting sick. Right?"

They smiled at me.

"You know a room? Can you take me to it?"

The two giggle boxes took me to a room full of shatter glass and mirrors. Not on the ground but plastered to the wall. It was quite fascinating, actually. I asked them all sorts of questions about it, but the continued to giggle. By the time we were due to the south wing, I just sort of started ignoring their constant giggling. I knew they could talk, so I assumed giggling was their defense against telling something they ought not to be telling. Because I swear, some of the things they giggled at were not funny at all. How old are you? Giggle. How long have you worked here? Giggle. Was the room designed to be like this or did it just become this? Giggle, giggle, giggle! You couldn't take them seriously.

"I quite enjoyed our walks, ladies." I said at the end of the day. "Perhaps we can try talking instead of giggling next time?" They giggled as they curtsied and left me in the south wing parlor with Elle and Cade.

"Your Majesty." Cade bowed.

"Please, she's not royalty." Elle rolled her eyes.

"She is in my social circles."

"Oh," Elle smirked. "I forgot she was slum royalty before she found civilization. Go, the cook has the apples waiting for the horses." Cade unashamedly pinched Elle's butt before leaving. "An old friend." She muttered. "So, my dear, ready to go home yet?"

"Well, Eleanor, it'd surely be nice not to have to be Grantaire's lady love anymore. Or watch my tongue."

"We're almost through day one." Elle squeezed my arm with a grin as Grantaire and Enjolras walked in with more servants and one of the servants who trailed around with Ames.

"I'll show you where you're staying." The older servant mumbled just a step above incoherency. "The mistress of the house has requested to not allow sexes mix."

"What would mixed sexes make, Price?" Elle teased. He shot her a cold look. "Come now, man, do you really need to show us to our rooms? Can't you just tell mother and father you did? Are you really going to deny two young lovers the chance to cuddle with each other on such a cold winter's night?" She said, not indicating who the lovers were. "I know where mother puts guests, and I bet Enjolras still knows where his room is. And if he doesn't, I do."

Price studied her for a moment, "I can lie for a bottle of wine."

"Done. Tell Cade I sent you for a 1700s Merlot." Elle grinned.

Price considered it for a moment, "I'll see you all in the morning for breakfast." And then left with a bow.

"I hate having servants." Elle sank into the couch.

"Cade certainly likes being a servant." Grantaire sneered.

"Cade's a stable boy, not a servant." She bit.

"Cade's a snake." Enjolras grunted.

"Cade doesn't lie." Enjolras didn't reply. "Well, brother, do you know where your room is still." He nodded. "Good."

I laid nearly on the edge of Enjolras's bed with my back facing him. I hadn't said a word to him or anyone else since Price brought the boys in. Not that no had tried talking to me. Enjolras tried striking up conversations on the way up to the bedroom plenty of times, Grantaire asked about my walk, and Elle asked how dating Grantaire was. But I just couldn't find my voice. I'd spent all day trying to get answers from stupid maids, and the moment I could ask and get answers, I had nothing to say. I just wanted to go home. Hell, I'd even choose the Inn over this place. I couldn't spend all weekend in the presence of Jean Durand.

"I've been thinking..." Enjolras said after sometime. He scooted from his side of the bed over to mine. I couldn't even scooch away. "What about Avaric if it's a boy?" He asked, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me the rest of the way.

"Avaric?" I flopped over. "It sounds like a spoiled rich boy."

"Well, you know he will be spoiled and rich..."

I turned back away from him, "Not if his father gets himself killed in that bloody revolution." I rolled my eyes.

"Eponine..."

"Besides, I made a bet with Grantaire that we'd name the child after him."

"After Grantaire?" Enjolras pulled me onto my back and looked down on me. "Do you even know what his name is?" I shook my head. It had to be better than Avaric. "It's Reverend."

"Reverend?" I laughed. "You kidding with me." I laughed louder. Reverend Grantaire? That's what the 'R' on his pouch stood for? He had to be playing with me.

"I kid you not. His mother thought it would encourage him onto a pious path." Enjolras held a hand up. "You go in his room and address him as Reverend, and I guarantee you he will be in my room ready to kick my ass."

I smiled. "If that's so, maybe I should."

The same hand that was raised to tell me that Enjolras wasn't lying, the same hand that touched my abdomen this morning, was now lying on my abdomen again. I bit the inside of my cheek and rested my hands over Enjolras's one.

"Reverend." I repeated. "Well, now Avaric doesn't seem so bad." I turned my head over to face him. "What about the name Cade? I kind of like it. It's dark, sexy, and little mysterious."

Enjolras let out a short laugh, "No."

"Oh, come on!" I tugged on the fabric of his night shirt. "It's a strong, caring, personable name."

"No." He said again and grinned. "Who was that urchin who hurt you more than helped at Marius's party? Odette? How about Odette?"

"If want it." I laced our fingers together. "Who Marius fawns over doesn't matter anymore."

Enjolras looked down at our hands and a crooked smile spread over his face. "We're having a baby." He whispered. "A baby."

"Our baby."

"A baby who will be named Reverend if we don't win this bet." He laughed. "What is this bet? Please tell me you had a feeling you could win it."

I didn't answer him at first. I wasn't sure how he would handle it. Maybe he knew? Maybe that's what he meant by 'protecting you'. I might as well tell him. We were having a baby together, we'd need to get use to being honest with each other sooner or later. "Does your father have a scar?" I asked Enjolras.

"What do you mean?"

I brought his hand to my marked cheek, then down to my jugular, and finally back to my abdomen. "Does your father have a scar?"

Enjolras kissed the corner of my mouth, and I melted. "Elle said he had owed a wretched man named Thenardier some money when I first left home. But he didn't say anything today."

I kissed his lips, savoring their taste. Relishing the feeling. Collecting the memory.

"You think your father marked him?" Enjolras asked, his eyes flicking to my mark.

"I think I marked him."

The next morning Elle stared at Enjolras with the most curious expression as he continued to stare at his father's neck. He'd been like that since we sat down for the meal, not even eating. I'm just surprised that Elle was the first to notice it. Well, not really. Christelle was in her own little, pissy world. She acted like she wanted nothing to do with any of us. Jean had been reading some pamphlet, not too concerned with anything else. Grantaire was focused on his food. And the servants weren't allowed to say a thing even if they had noticed. Elle had been talking to her father about someone she had met in Rouen the other weekend. But she cut herself short when she realized he wasn't paying attention. She rolled her eyes and looked to Enjolras for support.

"Dad." Enjolras cleared his throat. Dad?

"Enjolras." I hissed under my breath.

"What is it, my boy?"

"When I was first in Paris, I had caught whispers that you were there." Enjolras stared. Christelle stopped fanning herself and snapped the instrument shut. "Were you?"

"Enjolras, surely you haven't been completely brainwashed by Parisian society to remember that your father has business clients in Paris. Don't you remember he was up there regularly?"

"In the slums?"

"Where did you get this idea?" Jean asked Enjolras but looked at me.

"It's not an idea, it was something I heard about. I'm just wondering if it was true." Jean put the pamphlet down. "So you had been?"

"I ventured down there more than a couple of times, asking around." He looked to his son. "It's hardly a crime, is it?"

"Depends." Enjolras shrugged.

I sighed deeply and quietly. I don't know why I thought he could keep his mouth shut. The conversation snagged Grantaire's interest, it was concerning the bet. Him not drinking made him catch on quick to things. I didn't like it so much.

"On what, son?"

"Who you asked." Enjolras responded, loosening his cravat.

Something in my stomach started rumbling. Making me sick. I don't know whether it was the food, the outplaying situation, or other things, but I was close to losing it. I clutched the arm on the chair, willing everything to stay calm. Elle's expression had not yet changed, she sent it to me, but ultimately stared at Enjolras. Everyone was either staring at Enjolras or his father. Even the servants were out of order and waited for something to happen. My heart was pulsing. I think I was sweating. But I was too afraid to check to see if I was. I was also afraid Jean would give something away from the looks he kept shooting me. Were they discrete? Or was I just expecting them so I figured everyone else saw them? I was sure he was the one.

"Down by the docks," Jean said. I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself down. "I was there mostly. One of my clients had told me that if you wanted information, that's where you go. I made three trips down there. One a week after you left, one seven weeks after, and the last one a year after."

I sat even more quietly than before. Doing math. I had never done math on such a rushed scale before. Seven years ago from this month would have put me at twelve? I hadn't been allowed out on raids with my father until spring came. But a year later, I'd have been thirteen...I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. Okay, okay, it was okay.

"You didn't find anything?"

"I didn't look." He took a sip of his tea. "I had someone do it for me." Montparnasse. "A young fellow. No more than fifteen." The oldest hag would have recommend him. "He was given high regards by one of the dock whores."

"Urchin." Christelle scoffed. I sent her a secret glare. She made it sound so horrible.

"So you paid a boy to look for me for a year? How could you have been sure he would look for me and not just take the money and run?" Enjolras already knew the answer to that question.

"I only gave him half up front and...commission for his employer." Jean sounded a tad disgusted. Twenty five percent. "Commission was heavy, twenty five percent, but I was told they knew what they were doing."

"What happened after the year was up?"

"He told me he had gotten some information and to meet him at some dilapidated Inn down there." I stared down at my plate. Inn. Alley. Docks. "So I met him there, with the other half of the money. I figured he had some good information. It was absolutely ridiculous, though. He just told me that the docks and alleys were free of runaway rich boys. So I refused to give him the other half of the money."

"And that was it?" Grantaire frowned.

Jean stared hard at me before saying, "No." Christelle followed her husband's gaze.

"Darling, you're scaring the poor girl. Watch yourself or we'll never have company again." Christelle patted her husband's hand.

"Everything comes with a price, especially leaving." He looked back to Enjolras. "I had thought it was understood that if he didn't find you then he wouldn't get the rest of the money. Apparently he and his boss didn't know the rules of decent business practices." You wanted decent business practices in the slums?

"Did they beat you up?" I could tell by the urgency in Elle's voice that she hadn't heard this part before.

"No-"

"The bruises would have faded." I answered for him, forgetting myself. "Sorry," I muttered. "My mother told me horror stories." I added before covering my mouth and closing my eyes. I could feel the bile rising.

"What did the boss man do, daddy?"

"Ninny." I snapped my eyes open. Jean was staring at me. "He called for 'Ninny', and a girl, no older than the tracker boy, came running from behind the bar."

"Ninny?" Enjolras asked, stealing a glance in my direction.

Jean nodded and went on, "He asked her if she was ready to make her father proud." I bit my bottom lip. So badly. "She took something from her mother as two big, fat men knocked me about and into a hallway that led to an alley where two more men were waiting. I think they had planned for me not giving the other half." They plan for everything. "I tried calling for an authority, but they assured me that no one would hear my screams at the hour. The boss took his Ninny aside as the others..." Christelle's eyes were wide with horror as her husband recounted his beating. I don't know if she was horrified about the beating or about the topic of our breakfast conversation, though.

"Excuse me." Christelle made to leave but Jean told her to sit down. Elle squeezed her hand as she fluttered the fan alarmingly in front of her face to dry her tears.

"I was lying there on the ground in the alley, thinking that I was never going to see my family again. They were going to finish me off just because they couldn't find a simple sixteen year old boy. The tracker boy kicked my stomach and then reacher into my coat to fetch my money pouch as the others pinned me down. The boss held my head, and Ninny knelt on my chest." He started undoing his cravat.

"Daddy!" Elle gasped and turned from the sight of the grotesque mark.

"The poor dumb thing was going for my jugular, but obviously her mark was off. The boss beat her, then she took off running to God knows where." Jean rolled his eyes. "My old age has me forgetting things: Remind me what you used, Eponine."

"An old war knife." I muttered.

"Eponine!" Enjolras hissed.

"Eponine!"

I gasped loudly, clutching at whatever was nearest to me.

"Good God, girl, you'd think I was beating you." Grantaire rolled his eyes. "We can't sleep in the same room if we're both going to have night terrors."

"What time is it?" I asked, glancing around wildly.

"Time for you and Enjolras to work out some issues." Grantaire grinned at his quick comeback. "No, not really, but Elle just came by; and you're to be in her room in no more than fifteen minutes."

"Oh."

"Are you alright, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I'm bloody spectacular." I tried remembering when exactly I came down here. Oh. I grinned. "Did you get Enjolras good?"

Grantaire smiled deviously. "You just wait and see."

To clear any confusion with the ending: It was a dream sequence. Everything after Eponine suggests going down to call Grantaire by his first name was a dream.

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Peace. Love. Summertime:)