Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! Also, my E/É fic is finally up! I'm going to try and balance updating this and that as best as possible. So I'll update them alternately. Yeah. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I'm still not Victor Hugo.

Marie sat in the Café Musain listening to the boys talk. As much as she hated to admit it, she was really starting to enjoy the meetings. Though she managed to hate them at the same time - their plans both inspired and terrified her. It was difficult not to be inspired when Enjolras spoke, his words were so full of passion and conviction. She could see that Grantaire must feel the same way, considering that he didn't seem all that convinced about the cause, but he watched Enjolras with rapt attention, hanging on each of his words. Marie was quite observent.

"Lamarque has fallen ill." Coufeyrac was speaking. Marie frowned, expecting sadness to fill the eyes of all of the boys, and many did look upset. She glanced to Grantaire, but his expression was hard to read as always.

Enjolras, however, had somewhat of a fire glowing in his. Marie was entirely confused - Lamarque was the people's man. The one they could look to for any sort of support. If he died, what voice would they have then?

"Don't frown," Enjolras ordered to no one in particular. "Yes, we will lose a great man, but the people will rise."

Sometimes Marie did not understand his logic at all.

"If Lamarque dies, the people will rise. When they lose their voice, they will stand with us! They will fight."

Marie was not sure that was true, as much as she wanted to believe it was. If Lamarque died, the people would lose their voice and they would cower in fear. A few may revolt, but she assmed most would return to their homes to live out the rest of their lives in peace, even if they barely had enough to eat. They would not rise and take the risk of being killed by a government that now they had no voice in.

The boys seemed so happy, however, that she did not open her mouth to speak. She wondered what the girl - the one she had come to notice was always in the café as well - thought of all of this. She seemed unhappy, a frown etched on her face as she gazed at Enjolras. Marie didn't exactly know either of them, but it was quite clear to her that something was happening between them. It was none of her business, however, she wondered how the girl felt. For her, it was difficult. It was difficult to sit through meetins, watching Grantaire and the others speak of revolution. It was difficult knowing where it could possibly lead them.

He was the best thing in her life, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him. She would not lose him. If he was going to fight, she would too. She knew he would not approve, but she intended on following through with her plans regardless.

It was at that moment that the girl looked away from Enjolras and made eye contact with her. There was understanding in their exchange this time, and she offered a small smile, though it was not a happy one. The girl returned it. Yes, she must feel the same way.

Marie sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was stil strange, being able to do things like that without her fingers catching in knots. Just as strange as it was to look into the mirror, or to look down and see the fine fabric of her dress. She had three of them now, many more than she needed after being used to wearing the same torn up pieces of fabric for so long. She often tried to refuse, but Grantaire would insist. The weather was warming, but he still seemed so concerned about the condition of her clothing. It would irritate her, but he was just so sincere that she could never be angry with him, really.

...

"You seem upset."

Marie shrugged, glancing at Grantaire who now sat next to her. Political speeches had once again faded to casual conversations. Most of the boys laughed and drank with the exception of Grantaire - he was drinking, but looked far from laughing - and Enjolras, who had slipped out of the spotlight and stood talking to the girl who Marie still did not know the name of. She wondered why the boys didn't seem to say anything about her. The girl didn't seem all that much different from her, and they seemed ready to stick their noses in Grantaire's life - what was it that kept them from saying anything about the girl who was more like a shadow and their leader?

"I'm fine," she insisted, offering him a weak smile.

She took a sip from the glass of wine in front of her. She wished it were brandy, something stronger. The thoughts swirling in her head were not pleasant and her stomach twisted in a way that made her wish hadn't eaten that day.

"You're not very good at hiding your emotions," Grantaire told her. He could see the worry in her eyes, in the tense muscles of her face, even in the way she gripped the glass in her hand and tipped her head back to drink more than she usually did.

"It is about the revolution," he said. It was not a question, for he knew the answer would be yes. Even he was worried about the revolution, but he tried as hard as he could not to let it bother him. It still did, of course, but he tried to distract himself. He had been drinking again, not quite as bad as before he met Marie, but enough to numb his mind so that he did not have to constantly worry about the fate of he and his little group. He wondered how Enjolras seemed to just know that things were going to be okay, and that even if they fell, there would be others to take their place to ensure that those they would leave behind would actually live the lives that they promised them.

He could not send Marie back to the life she had been living.

When Marie did not answer her, she shook his head lightly and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Marie let herself melt into his arms, but it did not ease her worry. No amount of actions or words could do that. Now that there seemed to be more of a definite time frame, a specific time when the revolution could begin, Marie felt sick. Before it had been an idea, nothing tangible, nothing she could grasp and actually look at as reality.

Grantaire felt a hand on his shoulder and reluctantly pulled away from Marie. However, when he turned to see who the hand belong to, he stood up quickly. Enjolras did not typically speak to him - Despite his recent change in habits, he was still a drunk.

"Yes?" he asked.

"May I talk to you for a moment?" the leader asked.

Grantaire nodded quickly, "Of course."

Marie stayed sitting where she was, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes focused on them, willing tears not to well in her eyes at the thoughts in her head.

...

Enjolras did not speak until they were far from everyone else, in a rather darkened corner of the café. Grantaire still could not grasp why. However, it became quite clear to him the moment he began speaking.

"She is upset as well?" he asked simply, glancing toward Marie who did indeed look upset.

Grantaire nodded. He now understood why he must be speaking to him - for the woman that he now spent time with was undoubtably feeling the same way - but he did not understand how it could possibly affect his leader, or for what purpose he would need to point out to Grantaire what was quite clear already.

"But you will still take your place with me?" he asked. There was a sort of desperate curiosity in his eyes that made him seem almost vulnerable.

"Of course," Grantaire assured him, "I will not desert your cause."

"But you do not even believe in it... You do not believe in anything."

Grantaire frowned, "I believe in more than I am given credit for," he said almost sharply, the words stinging him in a way. "I will not desert the cause that will make her life better."

Enjolras pressed his lips into a tight line. There seemed to be more going on in his head than he was letting on, as if he was trapped in a way. "No, I'm sorry," he corrected himself. "I just... It is difficult, as you know..." he trailed off. Grantaire did not even have to turn to know who his friend's eyes landed on - Eponine.

So he did love her.

"It is no crime to love, Enj."

For once, it was Grantaire's words comforting Enjolras. It was a strange feeling. He had never seen the man in need of help before. Grantaire needed Enjolras's pretty words and strong convictions to assure him that there was some hope in this cause of theirs - that there was hope for the world in general. Enjolras needed Grantaire's soft, simple words to assure him that it was okay to love - that it was oka to have doubts at certain times, and that it was okay to put something ahead of Patria.

The two stood in silence, a mutual understanding of this new dynamic sinking in as Enjolras processed his words.

"It happens," Grantaire added.

Yes, love could happen. It could hit a person like a bullet, unexpected but strong enough to pierce the heart. It could happen to anyone, even those who least expected it.

"Unfortunately," Enjolras mumbled. Grantaire simply shrugged in reply. There were new challenges to the revolution that no one had, up to that point, expected.

Prouvaire would be immeasurably happy when he learned of this.