A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope everybody had a great weekend! So, I know that Fantine's appearance in last chapter caused a bit of confusion for some of you, but I'm going to try and clear it up as best I can in this. Please PM me if you notice anything else, and I hope you enjoy!

"But…you died…" he stammered. "Years ago, in the hospital…"

Fantine snorted. "I might as well have been dead when they threw me out on that cart," she said bitterly, wiping away the last of her tears. "I woke up on an undertaker's table the next day; they said it was a miracle, but that they had to keep it hushed up. No one would have believed them, and rightly so."

Enjolras couldn't keep from running a hand over his face; he couldn't believe she was actually alive. Fantine Tholomyés was practically a legend around New York City, albeit not in a good way. As a young woman, she had a notorious reputation for her feminine wiles – which, he presumed, was how she had seduced Felix Tholomyés and had their daughter, Euphraise. The girl was more commonly known as Cosette, her true parentage known only to a select few. When he thought Fantine was dead, Felix Tholomyés returned to claim their daughter, but discovered her alive, which was when he quietly married her to avoid any further scandal. Before her daughter was born, Fantine could be seen on the streets at any hour of the day and night – the elder Enjolras had pointed her out to his son countless times when he was a boy, more so after his mother's death.

"So why have you come to me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from being heavy with his surprise. He couldn't pull his thoughts out of his head; every time he looked her in the eyes, his father's voice echoed in his memory – "That's why you need to beware of women – they may act sweet and pretty, but on the inside, they all just want to love you for a moment, and then leave you. They all end up like Fantine Tholomyés."

"Because your father has refused to listen to me," she said. "I've been trying, and he rejects me."

The younger Enjolras frowned. "What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"You're his son," she said simply. "In my experience, the apple falls either very far from the tree, or very close to it." She paused. "Truth be told, Mr. Enjolras…word has circulated among the poor of New York City about how different you are from your father. His job is to try and make us out to be evil, throw us in jail for crimes we don't commit…and you, Mr. Enjolras, you look upon us with pity rather than scorn."

Enjolras was surprised at how shrewd she was. Time on the streets had not dulled her mind at all. "Colette said your husband is a client of my father's…" he said slowly. "What does that really mean?"

Fantine sighed. "That, Mr. Enjolras, requires a long story. Where would you like me to start?"

He sat back in the chair, gesturing for her to speak. "The beginning."

Éponine went to the market to look for Azelma when she stormed out of the Patron-Minette base, still fuming at her father's words. He'd had control of her, her life, her choices, for so long…she couldn't bear to sit in her apartment while her younger siblings suffered through that same fate. It nagged her day and night that she'd left them behind in trying to fend for herself, even though she had always felt like she'd done the right thing.

"Éponine! Is that really you?" a familiar, joyful voice called, jerking her out of her thoughts.

"Azelma!" Éponine exclaimed when she saw her sister. The two embraced tightly in the square, not caring who saw or passed them. "Oh, I've missed you and the boys so much!"

"We've missed you too, 'Ponine," her sister murmured, holding her out at arms' length to look at her. "I take it you've already been by home, then?" she remarked, nodding towards the angry, red handprints growing on her cheeks.

"How could you tell?" Éponine asked dryly. Azelma chuckled and hugged her sister again, rubbing her back. "So where were you just going?"

"Um…" Éponine hadn't had any sort of plan when she'd left in a huff from the Patron-Minette base; she refused to call it home. "I don't actually have any plans," she said. "Want to catch up for a while?"

The two sisters walked through the streets of New York arm-in-arm, talking about any and everything going on in their lives. Éponine talked about her new job at Mac's speakeasy, meeting Enjolras and her two dates with him; Azelma talked about the odd jobs she had picked up around town, Gavroche's early escapades with Patron-Minette, since he'd filled Éponine's post as lookout, and the possible beginnings of a relationship with Montparnasse. Éponine was surprised to hear that he had taken an interest in Azelma, but only slightly. What really alarmed her was Azelma's openness to the idea.

"'Zelma…are you sure he's a good idea?" She said unsurely; approaching the subject didn't make her happy. "I mean, he wasn't the best to me…"

"What are you saying?" Azelma asked. "How can you not trust 'Parnasse, and yet, you trust some rich lawyer boy you've only been out with twice?"

Éponine sighed when she sensed the hurt in her sister's voice. Azelma had always been easily offended, and it had always made sisterly advice-giving difficult for Éponine. "Azelma, hear me out on this," Éponine said gently, almost pleading. "I just want to protect you. Montparnasse didn't treat me very well, and I don't want the same kind of hurt to happen to you. He can act charming, but he can be equally terrible."

"He's gotten better, 'Ponine," she said quietly, before adding, "Especially since you left."

Éponine tried not to wince. "How can you be sure he's not acting? 'Zelma, I just don't want you to get hurt the way I was. Montparnasse…" she paused, unsure of what to say about the enigma - he could hardly be called a man - and sighed instead. "Just…be careful, sweetie."

"I'm a grown woman too, Éponine," she said irritably, pulling her arm away from her sister's. "I can make my own decisions, especially with 'Parnasse. Besides, have you told your lawyer everything about you?" Éponine bit her lip, shamefacedly shaking her head. "That's what I thought. Take your own advice before you try to give it to me," she said coldly. And with that, she was gone.

Éponine sighed, running a hand over her head as she turned around and walked away. God, I hope she ends up okay.

Richard Enjolras, Jr. had found himself at a loss for words more times in the last two weeks than at any other time in his life. His elbows rested on his knees as he buried his face in his shaking hands, trying to wrap his brain around everything Fantine had just finished telling him. An uneasy silence hung in the air between them. Everything she said seemed to check out, but it was all so hard to believe…

He sighed heavily, trying to think of where on earth to even start.

Then, being a lawyer, he asked, "What proof do you have that will hold up in court?"

"If you look at Cosette closely, you'll see it," Fantine answered firmly; Enjolras couldn't deny the conviction in her eyes. "Especially as she's gotten older, the resemblance can only be called striking."

He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I want to believe you, Fantine, but…I can't wrap my head around all of this. As far as I know, your story checks out, but it's still so hard for be to believe you…it's so much for me to take in at once."

She patted his hand that sat on the desk. "I know, Mr. Enjolras." She paused, clearly remembering something, and he waited for her to speak again. "You know…if I remember correctly, your father kept a journal as a young man. If you can track it down in his apartment, you might find something about all of this, if he still has it somewhere."

Enjolras nodded. "I'll do my best." On a whim, he pulled out one of his father's business cards from the holder on the desk and scrawled down his address. "Come by my apartment next Saturday afternoon, and we'll talk more about this," he said, handing it to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Enjolras," she murmured meekly, taking the card and standing up to go.

"Call me Richard, Fantine," he said quietly as he showed her out. As she left the room, he saw Combeferre poke his head out from the other office door.

"Who was that? You two were talking in there for quite a while."

He sighed. "You might want to come in here for me to explain. Just make sure the door is tightly shut behind you."

Éponine wandered the streets of New York, not paying attention to where she was going or whom she passed. She was, of course, unhappy that Azelma wouldn't listen to her advice about Montparnasse, but she wasn't surprised either. All she wanted was to protect her sister…after she had left when Mama died, she had left her younger siblings to basically fend for themselves. She had never been there to be a role model, or to help them grow up. She tried not to think about everything she'd missed in their lives, but it was hard not to dwell on it.

And now I'm all alone again,
Nowhere to turn, no one to go to…
Without a home, without a friend
Without a face to say hello to…

The more she wandered the streets, the more she thought. She thought about everything – her father, her few memories of her mother, her sister, her little brothers, what little childhood they had, Montparnasse, the rest of the Patron-Minette…

And Enjolras…

He was the one thing that was completely different from the rest of her life thus far. Éponine had grown up poor; the smells of home were dirt, alcohol, and unwashed people. A living was going out and picking pockets every day, and a meal was a scrap of bread with some cheese. Then he waltzed into the speakeasy on her first night, and suddenly…everything was different. For him, home had been a clean house – a real house, not some hovel in the slums of New York. A living was going to court and talking to clients behind a desk every day, and dinner was a real, full meal, like what he had cooked for her. They were so different, and yet so much about them was the same…Éponine wondered how it was that one person could have such an impact on her life, even though she'd known him for so little time.

When she had been a little girl, when Azelma was a baby and before Gav was even born, her mother would tell her about how love always found a way. She would tell Éponine her stories of when she fell in love as a teenager – he had been rich, older than her, and had loved her back. Even though she had ended up married to Éponine's father, she never forgot her rich boy. It's as though my story could be hers all over again…

As if by divine intervention, she found herself outside the towering building that housed The Offices of Enjolras and Combeferre, Attorneys-at-Law. She almost laughed to herself; she hadn't even been watching where she was going…and look where I ended up.

She hesitated, wondering whether or not to go in and see him. Her mind flashed back to the few days before their second date, when he had shown up outside the speakeasy with no reason but to see her…what would he do if she showed up at his office with no reason but to see him? No…he has more important things to do than see me…

But what if he wants to see you, too, 'Ponine? Would you deny him?

Of course not…but he can't know the truth about me. Azelma was wrong. I can always change, and I can always erase that part of my past. He doesn't have to ever know.

But if you really care about him, 'Ponine, you'll have the decency to tell him the whole truth.

…That's it, then. He has to know.

And so she pushed open the big door and walked in.

Combeferre took several long, deep breaths as Enjolras finished recounting the details of his meeting with Fantine Tholomyés. His friend was sitting on the edge of the desk – something that Enjolras, Sr. would have never allowed – but they didn't care, as long as he was in court. "Are you sure she's telling you the truth?" he asked heavily.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Enjolras answered, putting his feet up – again, an action usually considered taboo. "She did mention that my father kept a journal as a young man, which I know for a fact he did…she said I might find more information from his perspective there, if he still has it. It's shaky, but right now, it's our best bet."

His best friend nodded. "I suppose so. You could invent an excuse to go home, nick it from his bedroom, and take it back to your apartment before next Saturday?"

"Possibly," Enjolras frowned, running a hand over his face again. "Whatever I decide to do, it has to be done soon."

"What is it she wants to do, exactly?" Combeferre asked. "You can't really do much on your own without a law license, which you won't have for a few more months."

Enjolras sighed heavily. "She wants me to prosecute my father…but that's not the only problem I have right now. There's something else that's been preoccupying my thoughts for a few days…"

"Well, what is it?" Combeferre said irritably. His best friend sighed heavily, and said the words he never thought he'd hear.

"I love Éponine…and I'm going to tell her next time I see her."

He gaped. "But…how can you be sure?"

"You'll understand when it happens to you, 'Ferre," Enjolras said quietly, his voice solemn. "I don't know how it happened so quickly, or why…all I know is that I love her, and I have to tell her before I lose her."

"Good afternoon, miss," the woman behind the desk said to her as she walked into the lobby of the building. She was smiling at Éponine and seemed friendly enough. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Richard Enjolras; is he here?" Éponine asked, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

The woman chuckled. "The father or the son?"

"The son," she admitted with a bit of a blush.

The secretary smiled kindly. "He's in the office. Come with me; I'll show you in. What's your name, dear?"

"Éponine Jondrette."

"Right this way, Ms. Jondrette," she said, smiling. Éponine followed the woman through a small hallway to a door with a golden plaque that said "Richard Enjolras" on the front. She knocked firmly, interrupting the two men on the other side of it as they talked. "Yes?" Enjolras' voice called out.

"Another woman's here to see you, Mr. Enjolras," Colette said. "Éponine Jondrette."

"Send her in," he said. Éponine opened the door and shyly poked her head in, smiling when she saw Enjolras behind the desk. "Hello again," she grinned. "I take it this is Mr. Combeferre?" she said, also acknowledging the sandy-haired man sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Indeed I am!" he laughed, extending a hand for her to shake. "John Combeferre, as you noticed. You must be Éponine," he said with a warm smile. "Our friend Enjolras here has already told me so much about you."

"All good things; all good things!" Enjolras laughed when Éponine gave him a mock eyebrow of disapproval, and all three of them started laughing. However, when he looked closer at her, he could see something behind her eyes…what was it? Come to think of it, that laugh was a little forced… "Hey, 'Ferre…" he said hesitantly as the moment faded. "Could you…give us a minute?"

Combeferre sensed it was time for him to leave. After all, our Marble Man has to confess the newfound crack in his heart. "Of course," he nodded, exiting the office and shutting the door behind him. The door was barely shut when she spoke.

"Listen, Enjolras…there's something I need to tell you…" Éponine said heavily. She was clearly pained to be saying it, and Enjolras was alarmed for a moment. What if she doesn't feel the same way as I do? What if I've gotten the wrong impression from her?

Calm down, Richard; you're being paranoid. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked hurriedly, helping her sit across from the desk as he pulled his chair around. "Can I get you anything? Do you need a glass of water?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine…it's just that…I should have told you this a long time ago, but I never worked up the guts to say it…"

Enjolras put a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Éponine…I actually have something to tell you, too…"

They looked at each other, and simultaneously, they spoke.

"I love you, Éponine."

"Enjolras, I'm a prostitute."

A/N: And, Éponine's secret is out of the bag at last! Let me know what you think!