Éponine's unwavering eyes watch as the young mademoiselle stuffed a letter clumsily into a wedge of the iron gate and return a few minutes later, out of her nightgown and into an expensive looking dress with the older gentleman gripping her arm in what seemed like a python-tight grip and tugged her towards the carriage that awaited them an alley over.

Once the carriage was finally out of sight, Éponine carefully crept from her hiding place and up to the iron gates. The cottage that was once alive with light and warmth was now hollow and cold as it stood in front of her menacingly. She plucked the letter from it's resting place and carefully opened it to read the messy contents.

The letter was addressed to… Enjolras?

Her expression was knit in confusion, as her brows furrowed, and her mouth frowned. Was Marius not this girl's beau? Her frown deepened further as she continued reading her way through the letter. The girl was obviously fawning over Enjolras! Not Marius! Éponine felt her heart tug at the fact that Marius, just like her, was in unrequited love with a woman that was in fact in love with his close friend. She gripped the letter tightly, crinkling the edges of the paper in her small hands. How selfish was this mademoiselle? She already had a man deeply in love with her, yet she's tripping over her own heels for a man that most likely didn't even love her back! Éponine had met the esteemed leader of the Les Amis only a few times in the past when she had gone to café Musain to meet Marius and each counter she had had with the blonde rebel included the slight nod of acknowledgement on his part and an awkward smile on hers, he didn't seem the type to fall hopelessly in love with a woman.

She hurried back to café Musain with the letter gripped tightly in her hand as the rain poured down above her, soaking her dress through to the bone. As she drew closer to the entrance, the warm light from the upstairs room casted a warm glow down to the pavement, causing the puddles to shine a brilliant orange glow as she hurried through the entrance. Ignoring the shouting barmaid, she hastened up the stairs in the flurry, only coming to a stop in front of the door that Marius and the rest of the Les Amis hid behind. She knocked hesitantly against the heavy wooden door. The chattering on the other side of the door seemed to cease and Éponine felt her heart fly up into her throat.

The door was swung open so suddenly, she jumped back in surprise and was met with the whole room staring at her. In front of her stood Enjolras wearing an expression that could only be described as a mix between disappointment and a grimace. Whispers seemed to circle around the room at her arrival, her eyes spied Marius in the back, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he caught sight of her.

"Mademoiselle Éponine, what brings you here tonight?" Enjolras' voice was gruff and low as she spoke to her, what a way to make her feel welcomed.

Before she could answer though, Marius had rushed forwards to the doorway; his smile lighting up the small hallway they stood in.

"Éponine! Did you find her?" Marius' voice was full of hope as he asked.

"Find who, exactly?" Enjolras questioned, turning his body to face Marius on the other side of him.

Éponine glanced between the two men with panic setting into her eyes. Who should she answer first? Marius, who's eyes of innocence seemed to bare into her soul or Enjolras, who's own pair of eyes held the fires of the setting sun in them. Luckily for her, Marius came to her rescue and gave the answer to Enjolras.

"I asked Éponine of a favour, which was to visit Esmeralda's home because she was mysteriously absent tonight."

Enjolras seemed to deem the answer acceptable enough as he nodded his head in understanding, before turning back to Éponine.

"So, where is she?"

"Uh-" She stuttered hopelessly, leading Enjolras to sigh in frustration and for Marius to send him a pointed look. "She's- um gone."

Enjolras' head jerked up at her in surprise, his fiery eyes bore into hers.

"Gone? How can she possibly be gone?" His tone was frustrated, yet at the same time it was pleading as if the information she held was life-costing.

"Éponine, what do you mean?" Marius' tone however was softer and calmer, yet at the same time his eyes held the same pleading that was hidden in Enjolras' voice.

"She- I mean I saw the uh- older monsieur take her into a carriage." Both gentlemen in front of her furrowed their brows. "I overheard that they're making passage to England tomorrow."

The silence of the room was as loud as it was deafening.

Combeferre, like the rest of the room, had been watching and listening the whole time. His eyes caught the distressed face Enjolras pulled before he clapped a hand over his mouth and walked about into the centre of the room. Enjolras ran both of his hands through his hair at the same time, only God knew what kind of thoughts he was thinking right now. His face glistened under the candlelight as a light sheen of sweat formed from the humid night.

"Combeferre!"

Combeferre's head jerked up in the direction his name was bellowed. His eyes caught Enjolras' burning blue orbs as they locked onto each other.

"Come, we're going to visit the Fauchelevent household." Enjolras dashed across the room to grab his red coat and soon fled out the room with Combeferre stumbling behind him.

Éponine barely had enough time to jump out of the monsieur's' ways before the went rushing past her and down the flight of stairs. Marius gave her a kind smile before speeding after the pair that had just passed her, her eyes following his figure as he flew down the stairs. The letter she gripped behind her back felt like a dumbbell in her hand as felt the wave of guilt wash over her for not giving them the letter. She was being petty, she realized, but it was too late now. Enjolras was probably already half way there if he kept up the speed he flew down the stairs with.

She'll just have to carry this guilty weight for now.

Enjolras panted heavily as he finally came to stop in front of Esmeralda's house while Combeferre placed his hands on his knees as he tried to finally regain his breath. They both observed the area; the houses lights were off and the black iron gate in front of them was already swung wide open. Enjolras jogged over to the front door, banging on it with all his might.

"Esmeralda!" He jiggled the handle of the doorway and let out a sound of surprise as the door willingly swung open.

The volume of pounding footsteps sounded behind the pair as Marius had finally arrived at the scene, openly taking in the empty house. Enjolras took one glance back at Combeferre and stepped through the doorway into the small entrance room. He gazed around the room, taking in the cosy household. There was still a pen and ink pot left lying on the table to their left and a glass of water sitting on a nearby coffee table. Enjolras stepped carefully through the house, making his way through the front living room and into the narrow hallway leading to the stairs.

Just as he was about to make his way up the stairs, the cold moonlight caught the corner of his eye. He pushed the door to his right slowly open, only for it to reveal that it was a bedroom. The room was cosy containing only a small bed, desk and a wardrobe, however it had character; a small pot of bright red roses sat on the windowsill and an array of different papers were messily strewn across the desk opposite the bed.

Enjolras wandered over to the desk to examine the messy papers. They were notes from the meetings! The sheets of paper were filled with different bullet points of ideas and annotations from the Les Amis meetings. Realisation dawned on Enjolras like the rising sun in the morning: this was Esmeralda's room. He shifted through the various papers; reading, memorising the messy characters and words on the lines of the sheets. He looked for clues, for signs that she was going to leave, but nothing. He found nothing that would've indicated her reluctance, her doubt in their plans for the revolution. She was thorough, passionate and intelligent in her writings, it frustrated him greatly.

Had she… really abandoned them?

Did she realize with the revolution at their fingertips that it was something that she should've never involved herself with?

Did she regret meeting them?

Did she regret meeting him?

"Enjolras."

His head jerked up to meet the eyes of Combeferre, who's anxious expression was worn clearly on his handsome face.

"I do hope you're not thinking what I believe you're thinking." Combeferre strolled into the small bedroom, taking in his surroundings as he stepped closer to Enjolras.

"And what is it that I'm thinking?" Enjolras replied, without even glancing in Combeferre's direction as he asked.

Combeferre exhaled loudly, finally causing Enjolras to look up at him stoically.

"You're probably thinking about Esmeralda and how she's left us in a time when we need her most." The bed Enjolras shifted and squeaked under Combeferre's weight as he lowered himself down to sit next to Enjolras. "Am I wrong?"

Enjolras refused to answer, giving his silence as a solemn response.

"Look, Enjolras. Think about it clearly for a second." Combeferre shifted, so that he was directly facing Enjolras, who's eyes were still trained on the floor and a permanent frown was marring his perfect lips. "You and I both know Esmeralda-"

"Yes, well obviously we didn't know her well enough like we thought we did." Enjolras' clear cut-throat tone sliced its way through Combeferre's words.

"Have the last two months meant nothing to you, Enjolras?!" Combeferre's frustration was building inside himself like he was a volcano waiting to explode. "Esmeralda is one of the most loyal people we have ever met in our entire lives, she was one of the most dedicated members of the Les Amis. Do you really think she'd willingly up and leave like she has?"

Enjolras rose to his steady feet, turning away from Combeferre. He was being foolish, yes of course he was, because that was what emotions like… like love did to a person. Was he truly in love with Esmeralda? He had never experienced love between him and another person so romantically, so intimately before; he didn't know what it was supposed to feel like. He always believed love made a man weak, so was that the reason he was so distraught?

He was foolish to think that his heart could have two different goals at the same time. What on earth was he thinking? Before Esmeralda had even entered the picture, his heart was solely dedicated to Patria. He regarded all women the same and gave each of them enough respect as long as they didn't overstep their boundaries with him, but for a reason that only the gods seem to know why, Enjolras had let Esmeralda in. Esmeralda, a woman who defied the unspoken laws of their delicate society and had practically jumped over each of Enjolras' boundaries, making him flustered beyond belief and impressed at the same time. She was the woman that argued with him in the middle of an overcrowded square over his refusal of her request to attend a Les Amis meeting. She was also the women who would walk into a room like she owned it as well as every single person who was within that room. She had boldly walked through the halls of their university, discussing dangerous and such controversial subjects that would send the normal man running for the hills. Maybe he did know the reason why he had let her in, and perhaps he was just too scared to admit it.

Combeferre's deep exhale of irritation seemed to knock him out his trance as the young doctor paced in front of him.

"There will be a reason for why she has disappeared so mysteriously, Enjolras." Combeferre's voice was quiet and calming, like a flowing stream down a brook. "You and I both know that she wouldn't just up and leave without telling us willingly."

"Maybe the fact she left was a good thing." Enjolras slowly raised his head, turning to face a confused Combeferre who's brows were furrowed, and his mouth pulled into a frown. "The revolution is this close and yet here I was being distracted by such a trivial thing-"

"What, and that trivial thing is love?" Combeferre exclaimed angrily.

How Enjolras was so dense to his own feelings was beyond Combeferre's knowledge. The man's mind was brilliant, he was leading their revolution after all. The ideas, prospects and possibilities he managed to form in that mind of his was astonishing to any man his age. Yet a man so smart was so dense when it came to the smallest things like love and affection.

The two revolutionaries stared at each other with bated breathes, waiting for each other's next words. It had seemed that Combeferre's outburst had struck a chord with Enjolras. A chord that Enjolras had hoped would never be played, yet here was Combeferre strumming it like a guitar.

"Honestly for a man of such high calibre and brains, you sure are bloody ignorant to what your heart tells you." Enjolras' fists clenched subconsciously at Combeferre's satirical words. "Or maybe it's that you are listening to your heart, but only part of it, because I'm quite positive everybody knows that Patria is who treasure in your heart the most, isn't she? Or maybe that's what you want us to think, maybe you want to hide the fact you're so bloody off your knockers for a woman that has managed to not only render you speechless but has also managed to match you in intellect!

Look mon ami, you must realize that a heart has enough capacity for a million people if you want it to be. Esmeralda has never been a distraction or an interference, but the driving force for all of us. She's the trigger to the gun that we all hold; the fire to the oil that we've planted! You and her… God I'm going to sound like a right pansy but to hell with it, you and Esmeralda are so perfect for each other it's frightening."

Enjolras still remained stoically silent as he listened to Combeferre's words of wisdom. With a heavy sigh, Combeferre decided to give up on the subject for now, thinking that'd it would be better for both of them that Enjolras stirred in his own thoughts for a while.

"We should go, Enjolras." Combeferre placed a comforting hand on Enjolras shoulder. "There's still some things we must prepare for tomorrow's event."

Of course. Tomorrow was General Lamarque's funeral parade. The stage at which they would create their revolution by rising up the barricades in the streets of Paris. Enjolras had almost forgotten completely about it in the last half hour, with Esmeralda's disappearance the main event of the hour.

The pair of them walked back to the Café in silence, each of them pondering in their own thoughts; Combeferre's mostly consisting of how Enjolras was coping for now. The shower from earlier had left small puddles across the cobblestone streets, letting the light from the windows to bounce off their glass surface, creating a mosaic of light patterns across the wet streets.

Enjolras shouldn't, no couldn't let Esmeralda's absence deter him from their great cause. Now was not the time for him to cry over his lonely soul, it was time for the revolution, for the republic and all the people that it would hold in it's safe embrace.

It was time for the rebellion.

The carriage rattled noisily along the cobble road as the two passengers inside were jostled on their soft seats. Throughout the whole ride so far Esmeralda had been solemnly staring out the window, not even making a glance to her Papa. She could almost taste the bitterness she held towards her father on the tip of her tongue increase as they slowly made their way through the streets of Paris, away from Café Musain; away from Enjolras, from the Les Amis.

Esmeralda was jolted out of her inner trance as the carriage seemed to come harshly to a halt, causing the occupants to sway slightly with the momentum. They were no where near their apartment however, they hadn't even left the centre of Paris. Why on earth had they come to a stop?

"Esmeralda, wait here patiently for me, I shall only be a few minutes." Her Papa's explanation was curt and precise, leaving no time for Esmeralda to question him he jumped out of the carriage and into the building they had pulled up in front of them.

When her Papa had finally disappeared into the building, Esmeralda observed the street around her from the window of her carriage. The street was quite familiar, she recalled how one time she had strolled down it while discussing the importance of Greek Democracy to Enjolras, of all things of course they talked about that. She was only about a kilometre away from the café if she guessed correctly, she probably could've run back to Musain in time for the last minutes of the meeting.

A lightbulb in her head went off.

Why didn't she just run back?

Was she willing to sacrifice her life at the barricades for the good of the nation? She believed she did.

It was like everything happened at once; the idea had popped into her head and her body was already in action. She rifled through her father's carrier bag in search for a decent amount of money, finally coming upon a tiny purse full of sous and francs. Quickly stuffing it in the bodice of her dress, she emptied out all the heavy items she had packed with her in her own carrier bag onto the floor of the carriage with haste, taking a few seconds to grab a few of her own father's clothes before resealing her bag. Her time was running short, for her Papa would be out the front door and coming back down to the carriage any minute now, it was now or never for her to escape.

She slowly creaked the door on her side of the carriage open, being wary of the fact the carriage driver was merely on the other side waiting for her father to return. She lowered herself down to the ground and out of the carriage as slow as possible, not willing to take the risk of rocking the carriage if she had leapt out. She glanced up at the carriage driver's seat, making sure he was facing the other way before slowly tip-toeing away from the carriage till she was a good distance away from it for her footsteps not to be noticed when she picked up speed. Once she was about 15 metres from the carriage she burst into a full run down the cobblestone lane, letting her longs legs carry her as fast as possible. She weaved between houses and in-between alleyways to make sure no one had been following her. She didn't drop her speed till she was a good distance away from where the carriage had stopped, and slowed into a quick jog. She felt the sweat start to form on her brow as she panted heavily into the night as she rounded different corners of the Paris streets, making her way back into the more central part of Paris.

She kept a safe distance from any drunkards that wondered the midnight streets, but at the same time keeping an ear out for Grantaire's usual slur in case he was among them. She finally arrived back at her cottage and ran up to the part in the iron gate where she had lodged her letter.

It was gone to Esmeralda's delight and dismay, meaning either one of the Les Amis boys had it within their possession or a gamine had suddenly become a lot wealthier. Esmeralda reached into her bag and counted out the amount of money she had shamelessly stolen from her father, it was enough for her to stay in an inn for the night. She couldn't risk staying here, in her home, where it was probably the mostly likely of places her father would first look when he realised she was missing. She quickly ran inside of her house as she remembered how her father had forgotten to lock it in his rush to leave the place. She took a quick glance at the grandfather clock to see what time it was, 12 o'clock in the morning? The Les Amis meeting would be definitely over by now, so that was one of her options smothered out. Leaving the house, she closed the door with a bang and set off into the night with looking for an inn that would be her home for the night.