Okay, I'm really sorry, this is pretty long. I was considering splitting it, but all the things that are in Part 3 belong in Part 3, so sorry, guys. DISCLAIMER: I am not Victor Hugo, therefore I do not own Les Miserables. I am just messing around in my favourite character's life.

Part 3: Leaving

One Year Later

"How're you feeling?" she asks, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Annoyed," he says, biting his lip as he always does when he's under stress. "I don't even like Etienne, and my sister will be running around after the baby, so…" he trails off, his fingers moving over her cheek. "I'm just going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," she confides, putting her arms around his neck, and resting her head on his chest. He sighs, and puts his arms around her – in an instant, the annoyed feeling has disappeared. That's the effect Laure has on him. "But you'll only be away three months, then we have until you go to university. But by that time, Daniel will be fifteen, and perfectly capable of looking after the others…" she stops rambling, and takes a deep breath. Contrary to her optimistic reassurances, she will miss him, badly. Because he's the one thing that lights up her life.

Since their first kiss on his sixteenth birthday, their relationship has been going from strength to strength – at least, until his parents finally caught up with the times, and realised what was happening. And now, they're sending him away, in the hope that the two will forget about each other, and find other people to fall in love with. The night they told Enjolras that, he marched out of the house, and slept at Laure's for two days. But now, they're threatening to come and take him anyway, so, after a long conversation, he and Laure decided it would be for the best.

"Will Rosalie be there?" she asks, her voice a hum against his chest.

"Probably," he replies. His tone sounds gloomy again. "I just hope she's matured."

"She will have," Laure replies confidently, going up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his lips. Then, changing the subject, she complains, "You've grown so much, you're like a bloody great giraffe!"

"Lovely compliment such an understanding, wonderful girl," he teases, lifting her up so she can perch on the gate post. "Better?"

She grabs his face and kisses him. "Much better," she giggles. Then she stops, and tilts her head to the side. "Listen to the birds singing – aren't they pretty?"

He listens for a couple of seconds, "Yes, they are."

"And the flowers are blooming, and the crops are growing and the sun is shining," she continues on, her eyes sparkling. "It's such a lovely day today."

"Agreed," he leans back against the gate, brushing his arm against hers. "It's a lovely day."

Enjolras takes in the intimidating façade of the townhouse, and, setting his face in an indifferent mask, he picks up his bag and walks up the stone stairs. Knocks on the door. It opens to reveal a middle-aged man dressed in livery with his head held high – the butler. "Bonjour, monsieur," the butler says in a snobbish tone, looking Enjolras up and down. "How may I help you?"

Enjolras wonders if he can make a break for it, but realises his parents will just send him right back. And he doesn't want to appear, or feel childish, when he is most certainly not a child. "I'm here to stay with my sister," he says firmly, staring the butler down. The butler takes another look at him, critically taking in his slightly worn overcoat (worn from spending time at Laure's house) and the shoes that his father's valet polished that morning.

"And your sister is?" the butler presses, narrowing his eyes at the young man.

"Madame Clemence de Vere," Enjolras answers, remembering his sister's married name from the church ceremony a year and a half ago.

Just then, a door opens and closes upstairs and a beautiful woman with the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Enjolras comes running gracefully down the stairs, the skirts of her rich, light blue dress trailing behind her on the carpeted floor. "Alexandre!" she calls enthusiastically. "You've arrived! Laurent, thank you for letting my brother in," she comes to a stop in front of her brother, and smiles at him. "You've grown so much – I hardly recognised you. Laurent, will you take my brother's bag – put him in the green room. Come this way, Alexandre, I'm sure you're very tired from your journey, but I'd love you to meet your little nephew – I'm sure you'll love him. Come on!"

Enjolras sighs, and relinquishes his bag and coat to the aloof butler, and follows his sister up the stairs. He does love his sister, like a brother should, but he can't like or respect her anymore – since all she seems to be interested in is children, fashion and what her friends have to say about other people. At least that's what her letters all contain. "His name is François, and he's starting to grow blonde hair, like you and me, but his eyes are brown, like Etienne's. I wonder if he'll have inherited the Enjolras trait of being stubborn, like you and Father," Clemence rambles on about her baby as she leads her brother up endless flights of stairs. Enjolras effectively tunes out his sister's monologue, taking in the rich wallpaper, cream paint and deep, soft carpet. He feels uncomfortable here – as he's been staying in a cottage with a dirt floor, three rooms and an open fireplace for the past two days, he feels like he can't get used to luxury again.

They finally reach the top of the endless stairs, and Clemence leads him along a hallway carpeted with the same material as the stairs, before slowly opening a door. "Sshh," she whispers, tiptoeing into the room, and holding the door open for her brother to do the same. "He might be asleep."

She walks softly over to a rich cot, hung with gold material, leaving her brother standing by the door. She scoops a sleeping bundle out of the covers, and carries it back towards the door. "Alexandre, meet your nephew. François, this is your uncle." She looks towards Enjolras. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Not really," Enjolras looks into his little nephew's sleeping face, wondering for an instant what Laure's baby might look like. Laure's and his. The thought brings a small smile to his face. "I don't know anything about babies," he tells his sister. "I wouldn't want to make him cry."

"Alright," she smiles tenderly at her son. "I'll put him back, then, and we can go and sit downstairs, and you can tell me about how Maman and Papa are getting on." She puts the sleeping infant back in his cradle, and carefully closes the door behind her.

The two siblings walk back down the stairs, and Clemence shows her brother into a beautifully furnished drawing room, complete with paintings of Etienne's ancestors. "This house has been in Etienne's family since it was built," Clemence tells her brother, fiddling with her wedding and engagement rings.

"Interesting," Enjolras says, his tone anything but interested. Clemence laughs lightly.

"I see that architecture is not in your interests. How's the plans to change the world going?" this question takes Enjolras by surprise. He never realised that his sister paid any attention to his efforts to help the poor. But the realisation that she did makes him smile.

"Still in the reading and planning process, I'm afraid," he says, watching his sister's smile grow wider as she reads the expression on his face.

"Been distracted by something else?" she raises a perfectly curved eyebrow.

"Not really," he shrugs.

"Oh come on, Alexandre. I know you think I'm silly and vain, but I'm still your sister, and I can still read you like a book," she smiles kindly at him as he blushes.

"I didn't know my thoughts were so transparent," he admits, embarrassed now.

"Not to everyone else," Clemence reassures him. "But we're brother and sister, and I've known you since you were born. I'd be an awful sister if I didn't know what my brother was thinking. Now, stop trying to change the subject, and tell me what's happened."

He shrugs again, thinking that his sister might be the sympathetic ear that his parents weren't. "I met a girl," he admits, cautiously.

Clemence's eyebrows shoot up in shock. "You…and a girl? Congratulations, little brother!"

"But," Enjolras is not entirely surprised by his sister's first reaction. But with the next piece of news… "She's a working class girl, not one of the pretty bourgeoisie Mother and Father envisioned me to fall for."

"And they're being prejudiced and biased," Clemence finishes his thought train, shocking Enjolras slightly. "I'd imagine that they would be that, though. And that's why they've sent you here – to forget about her."

"Yes," he studies his sister for a second. "But there's no way I'm forgetting her."

"Of course you're not," Clemence leans forward. "Why would you? I'm actually perfectly surprised at them – this is the first girl you've ever shown any interest in, and I have no idea why they have to be so against her because she's poor."

"Because, as you said, they're being prejudiced and biased. They haven't even met her," a sudden surge of anger courses through him, and it takes a lot of effort to keep it under control.

"Well, then, if they won't listen, tell me about her," Clemence suggests, leaning back against the backrest of the divan again. "Go on, I'd love to know."

The tips of his ears turn red again, and a small smile quirks up the corner of his mouth. "Her name's Laure Bonnet. She's got red-brown curly hair, and green-brown eyes and she's small. She's sixteen, but only because her birthday's in August. She's also a supporter of Jean Jacque Rousseau, and she's confident and lovely. I met her the day of your wedding."

"She sounds a perfect match for you," Clemence smiles delightedly. "I'm so happy for you, Alexandre."

"Thank you, Clemence," he says, smiling back at his sister, glad that they've re-established communications.

"Laure, are you sure you're alright?" Laure's mother, Madeleine, asks, sitting down next to her daughter at the worn, wooden table. Laure coughs again.

"I'm quite alright, Maman," she reassures her worried mother. "Just a cold I must have picked up from one of Annette or Louis' friends."

"Are you sure, cherie? I'm not at work today – you could go to bed for a while?" Madeleine presses.

"Maman, I'm fine," Laure coughs. "I have to go to the mill today, again."

"I can get Daniel to go," Madeleine suggests, but Laure shakes her head, standing up, and pulling her shawl tightly around her slim shoulders.

"Maman, Daniel is with his girl – we don't want to interrupt them," she says firmly. "It's warm outside, and if I go now, I'll be back in time for something to eat."

"If you're sure," her mother gives in with a sigh. "But be careful – cross at the bridge, not the ford."

"Maman, there's nothing wrong with me!" Laure protests, coughing yet again. "I'll see you later."

"See you later, ma cherie."

"Alexandre, how are you?" Rosalie comes running into the library, her straight, dark hair pinned neatly into a simple style. Her dress seems to be of the latest fashion – Enjolras has seen them on many women when Etienne and Clemence took him out into the city. He looks up from his book.

"I'm alright, thank you, Rosalie," he replies politely. "You?"

"Ah, I would have hoped you would have been better than alright for seeing me!" she says coyly, settling herself down in the chair next to him. He restrains himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'm just missing a couple of friends from home," he lies, knowing for certain that Rosalie will take the same stance as his parents on the matter of Laure. After all, Rosalie and Etienne are from an even higher class than his family – the landowning gentry, and they are even more prejudiced than the bourgeoisie.

"Oh, that's too sad," Rosalie pouts slightly. "Well, you'll see them in a couple of months, won't you?"

"Yes," he keeps his voice monotone.

"But then you'll be back in Paris for university – it would be lovely if you could come and call on us. We could go for a stroll in the LuxembourgGardens – they are very pretty in the autumn, and the shows at the theatre are very entertaining. Would you like to take me out to see a show with you in the autumn?" Rosalie bats her eyelashes.

He just makes a noncommittal noise, turning the page of his book. It's one that he and Laure had discussed after seeing it in a bookshop – he's currently making notes on it for her. He hopes she'll be pleased.

Disappointed with his lack of response, Rosalie gathers up her skirts and stands up. "Well, if you're busy, I'll go and see my nephew. I'll probably see you at dinner tonight – I'll ask Clemence if we can sit together." With that Rosalie exits the library, leaving Enjolras, thankfully, alone. He sighs, and turns another page. When will the wretched girl understand the meaning of the word 'no'? he ponders, writing another interesting fact in his notebook.

"What would you like to eat?" Madeleine asks her daughter, trying to tempt her into eating something. The 'cold' has got worse, and now Laure is refusing to eat. Not hungry, apparently. But now, Madeleine has started to worry. If only they could afford a doctor. But they can't – at least, not until Laure's young gentleman comes back, but Laure says he'll be away at least another month. And by that time…no, she won't think about it.

"Nothing, Maman, I'm really not hungry," Laure protests from her mother's rocking chair by the fireplace. "No, I mean it. I'm not. Give the food to Louis or Annette. They're always hungry."

"Laure, my darling, you haven't eaten all day. Please, just eat something," Madeleine pleads. "Even if you're not hungry, you need to eat."

Laure gives her a wan smile, then, trying to reassure her mother, she says, "Alright, then. Could I have some of that broth that you made last night?"

"Thank you," Madeleine lets out a breath of relief, turning towards the fireplace, and ladling some of the leftover broth into a bowl. Laure sighs and rests her head against the back of the chair, coughing weakly. She still hasn't got rid of this awful cold, and it's really starting to annoy her now. But it'll be gone in another week or so, she tells herself optimistically. And then Alexandre will be coming back, and everything will be as it was before.

Enjolras stands in front of a shop window, his sister and her friend, Stephanie, are conversing a few feet away. He looks at the jewellery in the display, wondering which one Laure would like the most. He's already got her a book, but he wants to get her something more lasting. A gift like she's never had before. "Clemence!" he calls to his sister, who stops chatting, and wanders over, her friend next to her.

"Yes, Alexandre?" she asks, looking into the window. "Oh, these are pretty. Are you thinking of getting something for your sweetheart?"

"Yes," he says slowly. "Only I don't know what she'd like."

"We can help," Clemence says. "Shall we go in?"

"Alright," Enjolras takes off his hat, and ducks to enter the doorway of the little jewellers, Stephanie and Clemence following him. The owner of the shop, hearing the bell tinkle, comes rushing out of his little workroom at the back, bowing slightly when he sees the quality of his customers.

"Bonjour, Madames, et Monsieur," he says politely, if slightly obsequiously. "May I help you?"

Making a quick decision, Enjolras says, "Could we please have a look at your selection of silver rings?" Clemence raises her eyebrow at his words, and he hears Stephanie giggle behind her gloved hand, but neither raise any protests as the man pulls out a drawer and lays it in front of Enjolras. He seems inclined to hover as Enjolras looks at them, but thankfully, Stephanie says, "I am also looking for a confirmation necklace for my younger sister – could you help me, Monsieur?"

This question causes the man to go scurrying off in search of confirmation necklaces, leaving Enjolras to browse in peace. Finally, he settles on a ring, and beckons the shop-owner over. "Would it be possible to put this ring on a silver chain?" he asks, thinking that it might be easier for Laure if she could wear it around her neck instead of on her finger.

"Of course, monsieur," the man bows again, before retrieving another tray, this one with many chains in different colours on it. Enjolras picks out a chain, and pays, before the three of them leave the shop. Enjolras gets out his money purse and, as they make their way back to the house, he distributes money to the beggars that they encounter, all the while thinking of Laure.

She shivers, and rolls over in the big bed. Her chest hurts slightly and she's still coughing. "Laure, are you alright?" Annette is sitting up next to her, her long dark hair plaited for the night.

"I'm fine," Laure whispers back, her voice hoarse. "Go back to sleep, Annette. I'm fine." The younger girl lies back down again, pulling the coarse blanket over her head to block out the sounds of her sister's coughing. Neither of them sleep that night.