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Enjolras' mind quickly returned to thoughts of France once he stepped into the Café. She was his one and only, the single woman worth giving a damn about. Stepping onto his usual table at the front of the room, a makeshift stage of sorts, he began to preach of liberté, egalité, fraternité and to talk of the impending war. It would not be long before Lemarque was dead, he reminded them.

Not far into his speech, a thin film of sweat appeared on his high forehead and blonde tendrils of hair clung to his temples. Enjolras did not mind; he was doing what he lived for. From his place standing atop a table, his heart swelled with pride at the sight of the small crowd before him. Their obvious eagerness to unite in a common cause, despite a few very different opinions, fueled his passion.

"Friends! The revolution is near," he bellowed, brandishing his pistol for emphasis. His shout was met with appreciative and enthusiastic cheers from Les Amis de l'ABC. Enjolras' gaze swept across his audience, his group of friends and acquaintances, all willing to fight for his mistress.

"Vive la France! Vive la France!" they all called back in unison, fierce looks mixed with boyish smiles. That is to say, all except Grantaire, who was passed out as usual, and Marius Pontmercy. This was highly irregular. A pang of irritation shot through Enjolras and he drew his smile into a thin line, the only outward sign of his annoyance.

"Pontmercy!" he called when the patriotic chants had quieted. The young man looked up from his whispered conversation with the street girl, Éponine. A blush was spreading across his face, reaching his dark hairline and the tips of his ears when he noticed that most of the men had turned to stare. Éponine looked anywhere but up, feeling Enjolras' accusing eyes on her as well.

"My apologies," he answered. Marius' brave façade was broken when his voice cracked mid-sentence. Unfortunately for him, the Café was so quiet that the revolutionaries could have heard a fly sneeze. His deep brown eyes widened as another wave of embarrassment crashed upon him. Joly hid his smirk behind a cough, but Courfeyrac had a large, toothy grin plastered across his face at the sight of his closest friend being so noticeably flustered.

"Are you, or are you not, part of Les Amis, Pontmercy?" Enjolras asked sternly, arching an eyebrow but otherwise keeping his marble face emotionless. Marius shifted awkwardly in his seat to face Enjolras directly, much to Éponine's dismay. He had been so close to her, their knees actually touching beneath the table.

Éponine's smile slipped from her face when she felt the warmth of Marius' knee removed from hers. This slight movement caught Enjolras' eye, and he studied her face closely. He saw, with a total lack of surprise, how her demeanor had changed since he had seen her outside. Pontmercy has to know, she is hardly trying to hide her feelings, he thought. Although he was inwardly pleased to see that her tears had dried, he could not help but be a touch annoyed – but why? It is none of my business; not my concern. He leveled his steady gaze upon Marius once again, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Clearing his throat and bowing his head respectfully, Marius answered with a fervent "Of course." When he raised his eyes again, he gave his leader an apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders in an uncomfortable attempt at brushing it off. Enjolras snorted in response, one corner of his mouth pulling upwards, a smile threatening to crack his granite-like expression. Marius and Grantaire were the only two who did not cower when faced with that stare and it was highly amusing to watch them struggle to be brave.

"Well, that is it for this evening my friends, unless anyone can think of something we have not yet gone over," Enjolras said without preamble, recapturing the attention of the group. This suggestion earned a muffled cheer from Grantaire whose face was pressed against the bar. He thrust his fist in the air lethargically as what Enjolras interpreted as a mark of approval. With that, the meeting was over.

Stepping down from his "stage," Enjolras picked his way across the room that was beginning to hum excitedly with post-meeting conversation. He had his sights set on the back table at which Marius had returned to his conversation with Éponine. It was obviously something very important to the man, as his hands were gesturing wildly and seemingly without much purpose. Speeches were not one of Marius' strong points, he noted with a secret smile.

"Bon nuit, my friends," he began with a pleasant smile. "May I take a closer look at your foot, mademoiselle? I could not get a very close look at it in the dark and wish to make sure that you are doing alright."

Éponine stiffened, mortified, when Marius' eyebrows shot up suggestively. Her now dry cheeks were ablaze when she turned her face to look up at Enjolras. He noticed her blush with satisfaction. Silently, Éponine extracted her leg from beneath the table, removing her knee from Marius' for the second time that evening, and placed her foot in front of Enjolras' feet.

Marius stood to leave, squeezing Éponine's upper arm in a farewell. He reminded her to do what he had asked of her earlier and she nodded sadly, looking down at the floor. There was a distant, dreamy look in his eyes as he left the Café and a spring in his step that there hadn't been before.

"I promise that I'll be okay, monsieur," the girl insisted as she turned her attention back to Enjolras, her cheeks still uncomfortably warm and her eyes threatening tears again. "I spend enough time on the streets to have had worse happen to my feet."

"Nonetheless, friends check on one another," he replied, bowing with a flourish before kneeling before her foot. She noticed that he was trying very hard to prove that she meant something to him, referencing their conversation from a few hours ago. Éponine couldn't lie, the idea that he was putting effort into her made her heart beat faster with excitement. Oh, if only he was Marius.

Squinting hard, it was difficult for Enjolras to tell if she had removed the rock, as the wound was covered in dried blood and dirt. He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew from it a clean handkerchief. Ignoring Éponine's awkward objections and venomous threats of revenge, he tied it around the upper half of her right foot.

"I know it may not be much, and it certainly is not clean," he said as he stood up and admired his handiwork, "but it will protect you from getting anything new in your wound."

Éponine was speechless. She lifted her foot and marveled at the contrast between the crisp white linen and her filthy foot. Why was he being so friendly? He must feel sorry for me, she thought in frustration. No one was ever nice to Éponine for the sake of being nice.

"Th – thank you, monsieur," she managed, a twinge of irritation noticeable around the edges of her speech but a smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, which were glistening with unshed tears a few moments before, were sparkling with girlish pleasure at the simple gesture. In this moment, the grime and the stress of the Parisian streets seemed to melt away from the girl's face and she was once again a beautiful young woman. Enjolras smiled appreciatively, his Apollonian features once again softening in toward the pitiful creature. However, before Enjolras could make a comment there was a loud shout from the stairs.

"LISTEN, EVERYBODY!" screamed the little urchin, Gavroche. His greasy blonde mop was plastered to his head by sweat, an indication that he had been running to catch Les Amis before they dispersed for the evening.

"What is it, little Gavroche?" asked Joly, running to the stairs and handing Gavroche his bottle of wine. The fatigued boy took it and gulped at it like a man who had been lost in the desert. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he had finished, he handed the bottle back to Joly and returned his excited blue gaze on the audience he held captive in suspense.

"General Lemarque is dead. The revolution begins soon!"

"Vive la France!"

A/N: Look! I got things done in a relatively timely fashion (okay, it was kinda stupidly fast, but still). I didn't mean for this chapter to end where it did, or for it to take this long to get to Lemarque dying. Ah, well! I've got the next few planned out super perfectly. Thank you for reading this story, and if you have any comments or suggestions I'm always open. Much love and thanks, and I promise to update again soon!