Hello my Lovelies... since I am SOOOOOOOO nice and love you dharlins SOO much, I've decided to give you 2 chapters today! I felt guilty for leaving you on a cliffy twice, so here is chapter 6! Though warning now... this one drops a big surprise and the explanation will come later! (so be patient) BUT! maybe it'll come faster if you all leave a little review or comment? maybe even follow? I know it's short, but it's to quell your worry from the last cliffy... hopefully next chapter will be longer.

Disclaimer: Still not mine... but hey, one can dream ;)

Warning: Bad language, some violence, and some PLOT TWISTS up ahead...

Chapter 6: Not Mine

Previously: "Guys," Grantaire's voice broke the moment, it was wobbly and hoarse with on coming tears. "Gav's not responding."

It took a moment for Combeferre and Éponine to process what Grantaire had told them, but once the weight of the cynic's words sunk in, everything seemed to slow down. Éponine practically fell off Combeferre's lap, moving towards the child cradled in Grantaire's arms. Stroking his bruised cheek with her good hand, she began to pray.

"God on high, hear my prayer, let him live."

Tears flowed rapidly from her large chocolate eyes, eyes that had seen far too much for a life so young. Combeferre was rubbing circles into Éponine's back, meeting Grantaire's eyes. The artist's eyes, which were usually an electric green, practically cackling with laughter, were dull and frightened.

"Ferre?" He wheezed, begging the philosopher to give him good news.

But Combeferre didn't have an answer this time; he simply stared at the young boy, almost unsure of what to do. Finally, common sense kicked in and he reached out to feel the boy's neck. Frozen, he couldn't make out a steady rhythm.

"I, JOLY!" He croaked, enveloping Éponine into his arms, burying his head into her shoulder, praying his own nerves kept him from feeling the boy's life beat. "JOLY, GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE!"

Upon Combeferre's outburst, Joly toppled into the room, followed by Bousset, Marius, and-from the other door-, Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Feuilly.

"Bahorel's keeping an eye on them, but after our treatment, they won't be walking without help for a while." Courfeyrac smiled darkly, but the smirk fell instantly when he made out the scene before him.

"No…" He was frozen, terror scarring his ever-jovial face. "No! GAV NO!" Courfeyac fell to his knees beside the couch, his head falling onto Gavroche's limp arm, his own arm beating the sofa cushion. Jehan, in his own mess of emotions, tried to calm his boyfriend, but found himself too afraid to approach the hysterical man.

"Courf," Grantaire wheezed. "Let Jol through, he's probably just passed out." Courfeyac froze for a moment, his bloodshot eyes meeting Grantaire's, then falling to the young boy. Suddenly, he stood, and stormed back into the kitchen. Staring at each other in bewilderment, audible gasps were released when Courfeyac reappeared in the living room, dragging a beaten Thénardier behind him. Throwing the man down to the center of the room, Courfeyac began to yell.

"Do you see what you've caused, huh? You've caused the possible death of an innocent seven-year-old boy! Feel proud do you? Happy? How can you live with yourself knowing the death of your son could be on your hands?" His boot landed solidly in Thénardier's gut with each point, tears streaming down his red cheeks, blubbering at the words he prayed to everything were false.

"He's not even my kid! Why should I care?" Thénardier managed to choke out, in-between kicks.

"What the hell do you mean you rotten piece of shit?" Courfeyac snapped, delivering another kick to the stomach.

"My bloody wife screwed around after Azelma, once I started to lose money. She ended up with some Bourgeoisie who she said cared for her. She was gonna leave me! Take the girls and start a new family with this man. He knew how to raise kids, she said, already had a boy. Well, I moved us, far away and kept her from him. My punishment? She wound up knocked up and I had to raise the rotten brat for five years since she then died in bloody child birth!" Thénardier snapped, struggling to stand, now that a flustered Courfeyac was rendered speechless.

"Gavroche isn't a Thénardier?" Éponine breathed, relief evident in her voice.

"Why'd you keep him then? And don't take credit for anything besides partial shelter for the last five years." Enjolras sneered, disgusted with the man struggling for breath at his feet.

"Thought I could train him for my way of life. But he turned out to be a waste of space. What's worse, his rotten father found us, bloody Ninny had to befriend his son."

It was as if all air had been sucked out of the room. Les Amis exchanged glances with each other, eyes wide and breath held.

"He came over, tried to take the brat and the girls, course, he couldn't pay what I charged. He also made me bloody upset. So me and the boys paid him a visit that night. Made it look like a suicide." Despite his pain and despite the murderous glares he was receiving from nine able bodied men, he laughed. And that's when Grantaire snapped.

He was out of his seat in an instant, barely pausing to move Gavroche into someone else's arms. He took Thénardier by the collar and shoved him against the wall, his feet dangling several feet about the floor.

"Before, I thought you were an insufferable piece of shit, now I think you deserve to rot in the deepest pit of hell." He ground out; eyes narrow and cheeks red with hatred.

"R?" Enjolras whispered, his hand wavering tentatively over his boyfriend's shoulder. The slight quiver in his voice brought forth another audible gasp from the room.

"Gavroche's real father," He paused, a single tear began to trickle down his pale cheek. "was my father."

WAIT WHAT? (right? It was weird writing it too... but i thought, why not :) )

Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment/review follow/fav, whichever floats your boat

Next chapter will be up soon :)