The rest of Saturday was spent at Grantaire's family home as he helped his sister and her girlfriend get settled. Helene and Augustin insisted on making dinner to allow the children time to catch up. They were shooed out of the kitchen which meant they ended up in the living room. Floreal had her arm around Bianca, the two women sitting on the couch. Grantaire was in the armchair directly across from them.

"So, brother mine, I hear you want to paint me," Bianca said with a smirk. "Should I be flattered or terrified?"

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Do you really think my art so bad?"

Bianca smirked. "No… but this is the first time you've asked me to model, what am I supposed to think?"

"It's for the centerpiece for my exhibit. I want it to be perfect, you know? I couldn't think of a better model."

"Flattered it is," Bianca responded by kissing his cheek.

"I think you had better tell us about this centerpiece," Floreal said with a supportive smile.

Grantaire looked at his hands. "It's a triptych, and I want to paint three women. There will be one on each canvas, and they are massive canvases so I need to get started as soon as possible."

"It sounds intriguing," admitted Bianca.

"Three women? Are they the Three Graces? Or Thetis, Hera and Persephone, the queens of the Big Three? Or perhaps past, present, and future?" asked Floreal excitedly.

Grantaire smiled. "You know the classics?"

"Of course," scoffed Floreal.

"Well it's actually a little closer to home," Grantaire said looking at Frenchwoman. "I am painting the female personifications of Liberte, Egalite, et Fraternite."

Floreal perked up. "Oh really?"

Bianca smiled. "And where did this artistic spark come from?"

Grantaire shrugged. "Who's to say?"

"Are you sure it wasn't Enjolras? I'm pretty sure the kid was obsessed with French history." Bianca added dryly.

Grantaire blushed. "I may have been talking to him at the time… but I swear it's completely unrelated."

"Enjolras," Floreal murmured. "I think I should meet this boy."

"Uh-huh," Bianca said in response to R. "Right. So which ideal will I be representing."

"Fraternite."

"You do know I'm your sister, right? Not exactly a fraternity we've got here."

Grantaire frowned. "I am not renaming the piece Liberte, Egalite, Sororite."

"Okay you're right that sounds bad," admitted Bianca.

Floreal was just staring at Grantaire. "That's not the French word for sorority, you know. It's association d'etudiantes."

"Okay, so I'm not naming the piece Liberte, Egalite, Association D'etudiantes."

Both women just laughed. "Fair enough, that is a godawful name. But I'm curious, why did you pick fraternite for me? It better not be for some dumb pun."

Grantaire smiled. "In philosophy the idea of fraternity is a relationship of people based on love and solidarity. And yeah it often refers to a brotherhood, but in my life there's been no one who's been there for me like that except you. Bianca, you've always had my back. You've always loved me, and looked out for me. You symbolize what fraternite means...and okay yeah it does make for a great pun cause you're my sister."

Bianca smiled. "For a second there I was afraid you were gonna get all soft on me."

"Ends the speech with a goddamn pun," mutters Floreal.

Grantaire just grinned his most shiteating grin. "So are you good with this, Bi?"

Bianca's smile grew radiant. "How could I not be? I'll do anything to help your art"

At that moment, Augustin poked his head in. "Dinner's ready."

The three young adults left the living room and headed into the dining room. The space was warmly lit; the smell of food heavy in the air.

"Chicken parm," exclaimed Bianca. "My favorite! Thanks mom, thanks dad."

"We know it's not nearly as nice as some of the food you've been having this past year, but-"

"Oh be quiet, mom. I love it, thank you!" Bianca said hugging both her parents. Floreal just shared a small smile with R. It was the kind of smile given between two people who care very much for the third.

"Please, dig in before it gets too cold," Augustin said warmly.

The family sat down at the table. The conversation flowed easily, just as the wine did, and everyone was in good spirits. Grantaire even noted it, and everyone groaned at the joke, Bianca talked about how she had gotten lost in Paris' Metro, and how she had to call Floreal for help. It would have been absolutely charming, if Bianca hadn't been so near a panic attack. Bianca insisted Floreal was her savior. The redhead merely laughed at that and recalled when she had first met Bianca.

"It was rather disconcerting being watched like that," Floreal explained. "I mean I'm a performer I should be used to it, but there's something about Bianca… je ne sais quoi, but the way she watches… It is like nothing else I experienced. I guess I got a little too caught up in her gaze, and then I fell. I literally stumbled off of my pointe shoes onto the ground. Everyone was looking at me then. I was so flustered."

Helene and Augstin laughed easily as Bianca put her hand over Floreal's. Innocently she asked, "and when did you fall figuratively?"

Floreal frowned, and indignantly answered, "at the same time. God, I've never been such a sap to believe in love at first sight."

Grantaire smiled lazily. "I think it's cute. You fell for my sister twice."

"You don't have to remind me," Floreal said pretending to be angry.

Grantaire grinned. "You're a good match. Bianca was always falling as a kid."

"R!" Bianca sounded scandalized.

"Once she fell down the entire flight of stairs. We thought she must of broken something, but nope. Kid was made of rubber."

"Stop talking now," groaned the 'kid' in question.

Floreal laughed. "That's comforting at least. So tell me Grantaire, what is your fiancee like."

Helene's laughter stopped abruptly. Instinctively she leaned in as she was eager to hearing what her son had to say.

Grantaire looked down at his plate to think before looking up. He didn't exactly meet anyone's eyes as he murmured, "she's alright. Probably better than I deserve."

He didn't notice Helene's hand subtly tense, or the warning look Augustin shot to her. He didn't see how confused Floreal looked or how Bianca had a slight frown. All around the table it was quiet. Dinner continued, but no one really felt like talking much. Once dessert had been served and eaten Bianca rose and announced. "R and I will do the dishes."

"But you're the guest of honor," protested Helene. "And what about Floreal?"

"Don't worry, I'd love to take some time getting to know you two better," Floreal said easily. She had seen how closely Bianca had been watching her brother. She had siblings of her own, and she knew what that look meant. "Let's go to the living room."

"Are you sure?" Augustin asked Bianca.

The young woman smiled. "It's only fair. You and mom did so much to cook dinner. Let Grantaire and I clean up."

Her parents nodded vaguely and allowed themselves to be ushered into the living room.

Once Bianca and R were in the kitchen she rounded on him. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"What?" He blinked as if he were waking up from a dream.

"Floreal asked you about Charla, and all you had to say was she's alright? And better than you deserve? What is it you aren't telling me?" Bianca asked angrily.

Grantaire let out a sigh. "It's just been a long week."

"R it's two weeks until your wedding. You should sound elated whenever someone asks you about your bride-to-be. You should want to talk nonstop about her and your future married life to the point where we're all sick of hearing about it. So why aren't you?"

"Every relationship is different. Not every groom needs to gush." Protested Grantaire weakly as he began to load the dishwasher.

She put her hand on his arm. "Are you forgetting that I grew up with you? You would gush about anything you were excited about. In fact you never shut up. It's not like you to be so reserved."

Grantaire sighed. "You're right. I guess I'm just stressed about this art exhibit in the winter."

It was clear Bianca didn't believe him, but she didn't push the issue either.

"Hey can I ask you something?" he asked trying to sound casual.

"Sure."

"That thing you were talking about in the car, the email," started Grantaire slowly.

Bianca looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "Oh, that."

"Yeah. The email you were referring to, was it Enjolras' break up email?"

Bianca could only nod.

Grantaire's shoulders slumped. "I figured. People have been talking about it so much lately, and I wish they would stop. I don't want to hold a grudge for him being an immature teenager. I get that he didn't know how to express his feelings back then. I wish everyone would just let it go."

"There's something I think you should know," his sister started softly.

"I don't want to hear it, Bianca. I'm done with that part of my life I just want to move on."

"But-"

"No. Leave it."

Bianca nodded. As much as she wanted to tell Grantaire the truth she had to respect his wishes. At least for now. At least until she knew a little more about the situation she had returned to.

Sunday afternoon, and Grantaire found himself loitering outside of the Cafe Musain. He had told Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta to meet him there. It wasn't long before he saw a rental car speeding down the road towards him. Due to the velocity it was traveling at, Musichetta must be driving. Once the car had stopped, Grantaire's guess was proven right. The woman in question jumped out from the driver's seat with a huge grin on her face. After her came Joly, looking a bit pale and carsick, and finally Bossuet, happy as a clam. Musichetta led the way pulling Grantaire into a hug.

"I can't believe we're here at last!" Musichetta sighed watching Grantaire hug Joly and Bossuet.

"I'm glad you guys were able to make it. I think Charla would have a cow if these two weren't here in time for the rehearsals." Grantaire said after the hugging had commenced.

"Sorry about that," Joly said. "I wasn't sure I would be able to get off in time with my schedule. I wanted to give you the worst case scenario just in case."

"No worries, you made it in time. That's all that matters," Grantaire said. "I can't wait for you to meet some of my friends."

Bossuet beamed. "Oh right! We finally get to meet the illustrious Eponine!"

"And is the mysterious Enjolras still in town?" asked Musichetta with a grin. "After all your talk freshman year, I'm dying to meet him."

Grantaire rolled his eyes ignoring the sting behind his heart. It was good to be surrounded with his friends again.

"And your sister. I don't think we've seen her in ages!" Joly added excitedly.

"There will be time for all of that. But first, have you guys eaten?" asked Grantaire with a smile.

Bossuet shook his head. And as if on cue, Joly's stomach rumbled.

"Well there's no where better than the Musain. I asked Eponine to meet us for lunch here, if you guys are alright with that?" Grantaire suggested.

"Sounds absolutely lovely," Musichetta agreed. "Boys?"

"I'm game." Bossuet nodded.

"I'm starving," admitted Joly as an afterthought. "And yeah, I'm all for meeting Eponine Thenardier, the badass of Montfermeil."

Behind them came a laugh. "Now I'm not sure where that nickname came from, but I like it."

They all turned to see a gorgeous young woman behind them. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face, her eyes shining brightly. "I'm Eponine Thenardier, and you must be R's friends."

"Ep, this is Joly," Grantaire said gesturing to the short Asian man. "This stunning young woman is Musichetta, his girlfriend. And finally this is Lesgles their boyfriend."

"Charmed," Eponine said shaking each of their hands.

"Please just call me Bossuet," Lesgles said with a smile.

"Let me guess, it's a pun?" Eponine asked dryly.

The four New Yorkers shared a look. Bossuet chuckled, "ooh I like her."

"C'mon, let's go eat. I'm starving," Eponine said with a smile. Joly offered her his arm, and the two of them lead the way into the Musain.

It was already crowded with people, as the lunch rush was at its height, but they managed to find a table in the back. Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet on one side of the booth while Eponine and Grantaire were on the other.

"So what do you guys do?" asked Eponine once they had ordered their lunches.

"I'm still a med student," Joly started. "but currently I'm doing a summer internship at several private practices."

"What field are you interested in?" asked Eponine.

"Pediatrics." Joly said, both of his partners were beaming at him with pride.

"That's awesome. And Bossuet?" She turned to the bald man next.

"Currently I'm working on animating little shorts for Youtube," Bossuet said. "I mean they're educational and I get paid-"

"He doesn't want you to think he's useless, just bumming off us," Musichetta interjected with a laugh.

Bossuet did look a little nervous, but he laughed anyways.

Eponine couldn't help but adore them. "That's really cool, Bossuet. I'm jealous, I wish I could draw."

"Oh well I could teach you. I mean if you're interested." Bossuet said shyly, all the while cringing internally.

"That would be awesome. Maybe there will be some time before the wedding." Eponine smiled encouragingly at him before turning to face the woman across from her. "What about you Musichetta?"

"I'm a curator at a museum." Musichetta said modestly.

"She's currently working on preserving some artifacts from Ancient Egypt." Joly bragged happily.

"If you're ever in New York you should come check it out. We've got some beautiful artifacts from Hatshepsut's burial tomb currently on loan." Musichetta added. "What about you, Eponine? What line of work are you in?"

"I work from home as an editor." Eponine said. "Not nearly as glamorous as what any of you do."

"Oh don't be silly," Musichetta exclaimed. "That sounds like a wonderful job. What do you edit?"

"I work editing magazine articles. Occasionally I will have to go to Montreuil-sur-Mer for staff meetings and the like. Our offices are only about half an hour away?" Eponine estimated.

The meal continued with geniality, and an ease of familiarity. It was as if they had all known each other for years. Even after they had finished eating they just sat and talked. Eponine noticed Grantaire's phone buzz several times throughout the luncheon, but he had subtly shifted it to his pocket. She wanted to ask him about that, but she didn't want to embarrass him in front of his college friends and so she remained silent.

"So I'm sure everyone's dying to know about the wedding, but to be honest I'm more curious about your art," Musichetta confessed. "It's been so long since you've done portraits. What inspired you to do them again?"

Grantaire blushed. "I was talking to an old friend who reminded me that I should do art because I want to, not just so that it will sell. I guess I had forgotten that."

Eponine wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "And we're all happy that you're doing something for your self."

Joly nodded. "I'm glad you're doing something that will make you happy."

"So a portrait of Musichetta," sighed Bossuet. "I always thought she deserved to be painted. Maybe in a hundred years someone will be curating her!"

"So I'll need to find a time in your schedule that will work…?" Grantaire said softly.

Musichetta laughed. "Oh please. You are going to be way more busy than I am in these next few weeks. I'll need to find time in your schedule."

"You're doing me a huge favor, Musichetta. Thank you," Grantaire said softly.

She smiled at him warmly. "I would do anything for family."

At that moment Grantaire's phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He took one look at the caller id before saying, "I've got to take this, excuse me."

Once he was gone, Eponine watched the three New Yorkers share a look. It was as if Joly was silently asking them permission before he said, "Eponine, you've known R the longest…"

"Yeah, why?" Eponine asked suddenly on guard, her facing darkening ever so slightly.

"We were just wondering what you thought of his fiancee," Joly continued.

Eponine's face shuttered itself, the little light which was previously there was gone completely. "You've known her for much longer. Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Well you see that's the thing." Musichetta said uncharacteristically soft. "We've known them together for ages. They've been an item for years, so..."

"We love R," Bossuet added hastily. "We do. And we don't want to seem petty..."

"I think what we're trying to say is that together, the three of us are really happy. And Charla and Grantaire don't seem to be," Musichetta expressed sadly.

"We just wanted to know what you thought, since we might be a little biased." Bossuet commented.

"Biased how?"

The New Yorkers shared another look.

"Recently, whenever he was feeling his worst he would come over to ours," Joly said softly. "He said that it was because he couldn't let Charla see him like that."

"At first we thought it was him not wanting to worry her," Bossuet added.

"But it kept happening. He kept making excuses about needing to recover, and just somewhere to lay low so we never asked questions. We just made sure there was always someone there in case he needed us to be there. Then one day the others were out and it was just me and R. I was in the other room studying and he was in the living room. Charla burst in and started yelling at him. I don't think she knew I was there. At first I thought she was just angry that he had disappeared without telling her where he had gone...but...um..."

Joly looked near tears. Musichetta laid a hand on his arm, before continuing. "She was mad that Grantaire's depression was getting in the way of his art. He apparently had a due date for a commission and he was falling behind. She said some awful things about R… and about us."

Eponine's jaw tightened. "I see."

"So you can see why we might not like her very much," Musichetta replied. "We were hoping it was just a one time thing… that it was a bad day or…?"

Eponine looked at the scratched up linoleum table tears in her eyes. "I think he's being abused."

Across the table Musichetta shared a look with Joly and Bossuet. "We were afraid of that."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Eponine asked.

"Yes...but he didn't listen. He just laughed it off and said that he wasn't being hurt physically and he can't blame his emotional state on her...screwed up as it is...his words not mine. You know what he's like." Joly said.

"I think it's gotten to the point where he doesn't even know that what she is doing to him is wrong," Eponine explained. "At least he didn't."

"What do you mean?" Musichetta asked.

Eponine sighed. "He told me he was going to talk to Charla, to call it off."

"Has he?" Joly asked nervously.

"Not yet."

Grantaire returned to the table. "Why are you all looking so glum?"

"I guess it's the exhaustion of travel," Musichetta replied. "Mind if we head to our B&B?"

Grantaire smiled. "Go. We'll catch up later."

They left, leaving Eponine and Grantaire. "Do you mind giving me a ride home?"

"Not at all." Grantaire replied easily. They walked out to the parking lot where R had left his car. Grantaire noticed that Eponine seemed to be dragging her feet, hesitant to get in. "Is everything alright?"

"I just don't really want to go back there… all the bridesmaids are there and it's just," she broke off suddenly. She began to put all her concentration into buckling her seatbelt, not meeting his eye.

"What is it?" He gently laid his hand over hers to get her to stop.

She let out a rough laugh. "Sorry. This is your wedding party. These women are probably your friends. I shouldn't be complaining."

"Hey no. Whatever you're feeling against them is valid, Ep. I'm sorry they've run over your house, but Charla and I are grateful for all you're doing for our wedding."

"About that. I thought you were going to call it off."

Grantaire's grip on the wheel tightened. "I've changed my mind."

"You seemed pretty sure, Grantaire. Are you sure she hasn't just changed it for you?" Eponine challenged, suddenly angry.

"She didn't do anything. God, Eponine, why do you always have to be so hostile?" he shot back.

"Just tell me. I know you're hiding something from me, Grantaire. I have the right to know."

"Actually, no you don't. This is my relationship. What I choose to do in it is my business." Grantaire retorted.

She sighed. "You're right. I shouldn't push… I just thought that after we talked…. I thought you didn't love her."

"Love isn't everything in a relationship, Eponine."

"She doesn't even care for you, Grantaire. No listen to me, just this once. She doesn't care about you. She only cares about herself and her career. She doesn't like your friends, or your family. She has made her opinions of us perfectly clear. She has no interest in your passions. She yells abuse at you, and yes, Grantaire, that's what it is. She abuses you and manipulates you, and you deserve better. You do. I know that you sometimes don't think you do, but you do. You deserve someone who will do anything for you. Someone who is willing to lose you for awhile in order for you to get what you need. Someone who will give up their own happiness so that you don't lose your chance at yours. Someone who is faithful, and loving, and kind. That's what you deserve. You want to know why? Because you are all those things, Grantaire. And Charla? She isn't. She's killing you, Grantaire. You deserve better." Eponine said breathing heavily by the end.

Grantaire listened to her and let out a small snort. "And where will I meet a person willing to sacrifice that much for me."

She looked at him. "I think you know."

He remained silent for a minute. "There's something at play here, Eponine. Something I don't even know if I understand. All I know is that I need to stay. I'm marrying Charla."

Eponine squared her shoulders. "There's nothing that will change your mind."

"Nothing."

"And what if a certain blond has feelings for you?"

"Are we talking about Enjolras?"

"Perhaps."

"No. Not even he could change my mind." Grantaire lied smoothly.

Eponine nodded curtly. "Fine. Fine. Then I guess I'll have to be the best fucking maid of honor you've ever seen."

As they rounded the last corner to Eponine's home Grantaire slammed on the break, stopping the car abruptly. Huddled on the porch was a young girl with dark hair falling in front of her face. She was in ratty clothes, and appeared to be crying.

"Is that-"

"Azelma." Eponine was already out of the car and racing to her sister's side.

Grantaire was about to get out, but his phone rang. It was Charla, and she wanted him home. Now.

Hey guys this will probably be the last you will be hearing from me in a very long time. Classes start tomorrow and as a college student I will have less time to dedicate to our favorite woe begotten pair. Just so you know I do have a next chapter (although it is very short) but I will not upload it until I have the following chapter. Thank you for all the support, I really could not have done this without you. Be sure to leave a comment before you go. ~T.W.o.W.