Disclaimer: I'm still not Victor Hugo.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I'm going to try and keep updating this every 2-3 days or so. Things have been getting busier, and and I'm getting to the point where all of the stuff I had pre-written is already published, so it might take me a bit longer to update now, but I will try to keep them coming at regular intervals.

Marie woke the next morning feeling comfortable and well rested for the first time in a long time. She remembered all of the events of the night before, but she was trying to push them from her head. Especially from the last one. She had made herself look like a complete idiot in front of her only friend.

He had kissed her, yes. And she had kissed him back. Only, he was drunk and she was completely sober. He hadn't meant to do it. Whatever the alcohol was telling him to do in that moment, he had done.

She could only guess what it had been telling him. Of course, she knew she was not all that pretty - not with the way her skin practically clung to her bones. Though, that didn't seem to stop many people. He knew, thanks to her paranoia, that she was a prostitute. Whether he had wanted that or not, he had kissed her. She only hoped it was some stupid drunk whim that he wouldn't follow up on again.

He was much too good for her, that much was certain.

Really, the part that bothered her was that she wished the kiss would have continued. It had been gentle and warm unlike the kisses she had received lately. Those were just rough and hurried, and ended with her being tossed aside like she was nothing. Though, honestly, she was. She sold herself to be able to eat. She couldn't think of anything that could make a person more worthless than that.

Grantaire was a student, smart even if he was an alcoholic, and actually doing something great for the country. She was nothing more than a prostitute roaming the streets. Pathetic.

Just as she contemplated this, Grantaire slowly pushed the door to her room open, peering inside. Obviously, he figured she might still be asleep. He smiled lightly when his eyes met hers, but it faltered a moment later - he was probably thinking about the night before. He probably regretted it, kissing someone like her.

"Morning," she said dryly.

"Morning..." he said. It was apparent from his tone of voice that he was uncomfortable.

"Look, I get you didn't really want to do it, we can forget it happened," Marie stated bluntly. There was no reason to beat around the bush, it was obvious what each of them were thinking about.

Grantaire was caught off-guard. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to do it, because he knew very well that he did. But in those circumstances... It had been wrong of him. He had been drunk.

"No... I just... It was wrong of me to do that to you," she spoke softly, taking a few steps into the room. Of course, it wasn't as if he hadn't had a few meaningless one night stands. In fact, he was sure he had quite a few. And he knew that the kiss had been innocent enough. Yet still he felt guilty.

Marie just laughed, shaking her head.

"Honestly, it was a kiss, Monsieur. It is quite alright."

It was easier to joke about such things than it was to think about the implications of what she had just said - she was used to much harsher actions.

"If you wanted more, it would have been fine, I owe you anyways." The words had slipped out of her mouth so fast she hadn't even realized how strange they probably were until after she had spoken them. That was just the kind of life she lead now. Everyone wanted something in return for their help, and she did not have any money, so it was only obvious what her usual method of paying off debts was. It was disgusting, and it made her want to vomit, but it was her life.

Grantaire stared at her, wide eyed. Did she have no self-worth at all? He couldn't even bring himself to be mad about it, he was actually so upset by it. This young woman, young and the victim of violence and who knew what else, actually believed she owed him something. He knew, of course, that most probably would expect repayment.

"Marie, do you not think you're worth anything at all?" he asked.

Marie just laughed once more.

"Oh, bourgeois boy, seeing the best in people." She shook her head. "I'm a whore, Grantaire. You really don't have to treat me like I'm anything better than that."

By now, she had managed to push herself into a sitting position, noticing that the pain in her side was much less prominent than it had been. Grantaire took a few steps toward the young woman, stopping a few inches from her bed. "You are so much more than where life has tossed you," he told her seriously. He sat down on the edge of her bed.

Marie laughed again, and Grantaire found himself caught between feeling bad for her and wanting to wring her neck.

"I'm serious," he told her. "Honestly, Marie, you can't expect your life to get better if you don't even value yourself."

Marie looked back at him, "I don't expect my life to get better," she corrected him. "I'm not foolish enough to believe that it ever will."

"Let me help you," he told her, an almost desperate air in his voice. "Please." He couldn't help Patria, but he could help Marie. And well, maybe that would help Patria in a way as well.

"I don't need help," she told him though she knew very well that was not true. "I thank you for the help you are giving me now, but once I'm healed, I will be on my way - you have your own life to worry about. You don't need to bother looking after me."

"I want to."

Marie's eyes narrowed. She wanted to slap some sense into him, but she couldn't bring herself to.

She couldn't help but wonder what sort of debt he thought he had to pay off. She wondered why he wanted to help her. They were busy with their revolution, and honestly she was not the kind of person they needed to be worrying about. They were all about equality and all, but she wasn't sure that went for people like her who could not even make an honest living.

Grantaire grabbed her hand, turning it over so her palm faced up. His thumb trailed over the skin lightly, and Marie's gaze softened a bit.

"Marie," he told her, still not letting go of her hand, "I want to help you. My friends want to help you. You've been given a really awful place in life, but that doesn't mean it can't change - you don't deserve any of this."

"I do, though... Do you really think I can go complain to someone about getting beat at work when my job is what it is? I don't even deserve to complain. You really shouldn't waste your time worrying about me."

Grantaire's eyes widened and Marie knew she shouldn't have said anything. "Someone did that to you? Marie, why?"

Marie shook her head, "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

Marie groaned, "I just... I didn't feel like working that night."

"Then he should not have touched you!"

Grantaire was clearly upset, and Marie felt bad for even telling him anything. It wasn't his problem to deal with, it was hers. He didn't need to be getting in over his head with business that wasn't his to deal with. But still she didn't make any move to get up. Her hand in his felt wonderful, and despite the fact that she hated to accept charity, she didn't want to leave.

"Yes... " she finally trailed off, "But, he did. That's how things work it is really not anything unusu-"

"Marie!" he cut her off. All of a sudden he found himself holding onto a bony arm with each hand, being careful not to squeeze too hard. He promised himself he would never be the cause of a bruise on her porcelain skin. He never wanted to cause her any pain. "Being beaten and raped is not in any way normal," he told her. He couldn't even imagine someone hurting this girl. He couldn't imagine someone striking her and forcing themselves onto her. He couldn't imagine them tossing her to the side as if she was nothing. But it was clear that that was all she expected. She gave herself up to people who didn't give a shit about her, and who treated her like nothing more than the scum she seemed to think she was.

"Well then I don't know what is normal," she said rather bitterly. Because that was all she had experienced.

He wanted to kiss her again.

He wanted to kiss her the way that she deserved to be kissed.

He was silent for a moment, just staring into her dark eyes, and slowly he pulled her toward him. He brought his lips to her jaw first, and he could feel her shiver slightly when his lips made contact with the soft skin. He trailed kisses along her jaw until finally, he brought his lips to her own. He deepened the kiss after a moment, liking the feel of her lips on his and the feel of her small body pressed up against his own.

Marie could have sworn she was going to melt. Her hands ran up his chest. The muscles were defined, but not overly so. And, for once, they were not being used to pin her down or trap her, or to hurt her. His kiss was different than any other she had experienced. It was slow and beautiful. She didn't want it to stop.

This time, the kiss did not end until they were forced to in order to regain their breath. They both sat in stunned silence for a moment before Grantaire finally spoke.

"That should be normal," he told her, "That is how you deserve to be kissed."