You can yell at me all you want. I'm sorry, but updating fast is NOT my forte...enjoy anyways ^.^

Marius paced impatiently as Enjolras went over their plan for what had to be the twentieth time. He was badly shaken by the events of the last few hours and wished his friend would shut and and let him have some quiet time to think. Éponine's letter was deeply unsettling—she loved him? And now she would be leaving—with Cosette, to add insult to injury—for England at daybreak. England! That could be a world away, especially now that he was going to engage in what could be a deadly battle against the police of Paris tomorrow. They'd never see each other again, he felt sure. It was also clear that Gavroche was not taking his sister's leaving well. After reading his own letter, the boy had folded it up calmly, tucked it away, and dropped the coin purse to the floor. Then he went and sat beside Enjolras, not saying a word but listening in rapt attention to the older boy.

As Enjolras started to repeat their plan from the top yet again, Marius snapped, "I'm sure we all understand it quite clearly. Please stop repeating yourself and let some of us have some peace and quiet!"

All eyes turned to him, and he flushed, embarrassed.

"Is this a rich boy's game to you?" Enjolras asked after a moment, his voice cold as steel. "Do you come here simply so you may watch us all make fools of ourselves tomorrow and die?"

"No of course not," Marius replied stiffly.

"This is likely to end up as a fight between life and death, Marius. It would do us all good to be able to coordinate and anticipate the enemy's actions. Now…"

Enjolras continued his reiteration of their plans for the next day, and Marius leaned back on his chair. It took no time at all for his mind to drown out his curly-haired friend's words and to wander back to wherever Éponine was. They had lived together—well, next to one another—for so many years before she had been adopted by the rich philanthropist, and he had still seen her often after that because she brought food (and occasionally money) to Gavroche every other day. He could never have imagined that she loved him—or even liked him in any way other than the affection one would feel toward a sibling.

And Cosette. He hadn't really thought about her much, but he could still clearly remember her—the pretty flush of embarrassment, the soft voice, the golden hair curled and pinned up neatly in a hat. He wanted to follow them both to England—for no other possible reason than to sort out his thoughts and feelings—but Enjolras was depending on his help. Not only that, but Éponine had trusted him to watch over her brother. She had begged him in her letter to do what he could to keep him away from the brawl that was sure to go down the following day. He would not let the boy die. He could not possibly. If he owed Éponine anything—anything at all—he owed her her brother's life.

Marius zoned out for a while until Enjolras stopped talking—actually, the boy was so drunk he simply keeled over, mid word, and passed out. Marius watched as Gavroche tried to shake the other boy awake, then purse his lips and jump down from the table where he had been perched for the last couple of hours. Marius followed the young boy.

"Gavroche," he said quietly, "you cannot fight tomorrow." The boy glared up at him. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"Your sister—"

"My sister is leaving for Britain tomorrow. She does not give a damn about what happens to me."

"Of course she does!"

"She wouldn't have left me if she gave a bloody—"

Marius silenced him with a hostile look. "She cares about you, Gavroche. If it was not necessary, she would have stayed in France. You have to know that."

Gavroche glared at Marius, but didn't say anything more before storming away. Marius bit his lip; the boy still desperately wanted to fight, and he couldn't follow the girls out of Paris with Gavroche planning to run off and die before the next moonrise; Éponine had entrusted him with keeping her brother safe. If he left to follow her, she would probably shoot him on the spot for failing to protect the boy.

Marius looked over at Enjolras, who was snoring into the table, and thought about what the other boy would say if Marius took away two sets of hands from the inevitable battle. They didn't have the best of friendships, or the longest, but they were at least fond of one another—and Marius surely didn't want any of the other boys here to die! But he also didn't want to follow him to the guillotine, or to slaughter on the battlefield. It was crazy, he knew, If he hadn't seen Cosette, if Éponine wouldn't have made her confession in her letter, he was sure he wouldn't be in the situation—he wouldn't want to be following anyone out of the country, and he'd probably be glad to go off and shoot police officers before following his friends to untimely deaths. Now, he had no desire to go die with his friends and classmates. He wanted to live, and live for—for one of them, though which one he wasn't quite sure of yet.

He could drag Gavroche with him, he supposed, but he hardly had enough money to get himself out of Paris, let alone manage to stumble with himself and another person all the way to England. And what would they do once they got there? No, bringing Gavroche was out of the questions. Still, how would the boy manage to survive? His parents didn't care to make sure he stayed among the living—hell, they hadn't even given a damn when he left them to become a street urchin—and it wasn't as though Marius had enough trust in anyone to keep the boy alive. He could report him to the police, but that would succeed only in getting Gavroche sent to prison, and possibly a large amount of questioning of himself on why he even knew that there would be a huge fight in the street...

Finally, Marius made his decision. He stole from the café, slipping through the streets of the city, to the richer side of town. He hesitated as he waited on the steps of his grandfather's home. The old man was not supportive of anything that Marius did, ever, and a few months ago, Marius had had it and walked out. It was altogether possible that the older man would turn him down in his request, but it was his only chance. Marius steeled his nerve and knocked loudly on the door. There was a moment of silence, then it was thrown open by an annoyed-looking maid. She saw Marius and immediately schooled her expression into a blank look.

"Monsieur Marius! This is rather a surprise. What can I help you with?"

"I'd like to speak with my grandfather, if I may."

The maid nodded quickly and opened the door wider. "He is still awake in his study; I will go and fetch him. Please, come in."

He stepped inside and said, "Let him know it is urgent, if you do not mind."

She gave another nod of ascent before hurrying away, leaving Marius to stand alone in the foyer. He closed the door behind him and wandered a bit further into the home that he had grown up in. A few minutes later, the maid reappeared, trailed by his grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormand. The old man motioned for the woman to leave, and she disappeared not a moment later; he turned to look at his grandson.

After a minute of silence, he finally said, "Well, what is it that you want?"

Marius steeled his nerves and said, "I'd like your permission to leave France. I have things to do in Britain, and I am unable to do them without assistance."

The old man chuckled humorlessly. "So you run out on your family—your own flesh and blood—and come crawling back because you are in need of a bit of money? Tell me one reason why I should not turn my back and throw you out of my house."

Marius didn't even pause before answering, "Because either I head off to England tonight, or I go off to fight alongside my mates at General Lamarque's funeral procession tomorrow, and you will never see me again anyways, as I will likely die in battle."