AN: Hi again everyone! Thanks again to everyone who is following this story and thanks especially for my very first review! As always, reviews are welcome. Enjoy

Chapter 3:

As the four of them hurried down the street, Annette's heart was still pounding. Partly excited, partly nervous again, she almost couldn't believe her good fortune. It had taken nothing more than a glimpse at the coins in her handbag, and Marius was ready to introduce her to the other revolutionaries! If only the rest could be so easy! Glancing beside her, she smiled shyly at Gavroche, who grinned back. She then turned towards Eponine, but Eponine was focused on Marius – of course – and Marius wasn't looking at any of them.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the café; they all entered straightaway. Marius pushed the door open, then turned to usher Annette in, Gavroche and Eponine following close behind. It was smaller inside than she had expected. Young men were crowded around a long table in the center. They looked up as the group entered, some looking her over, just like all of the people in the street had done earlier in the day. To her apparent surprise, Annette realized that she couldn't recognize any of them individually. She attempted a smile nonetheless, knowing it looked nervous, which was, she supposed, normal given the situation. After all, nobody was going to expect that she'd read their story in a novel.

Gavroche had pushed ahead to take a seat among the students, who were greeting him, smiling; one ruffled his hair. "Hey Marius," someone called, "who's this?"

"Hey everyone, this is Annette. Gavroche found her wandering on the street and brought her to my place. It turns out she's a time traveler, and she comes from a time after the revolution. She has coins with revolutionary symbols on them, and she says she believes in it, too."

At this, everyone, even those who hadn't already been doing so, turned to stare at Annette.

"A time traveler?" someone else asked.

"She's from 1949," Gavroche told them. "I found her sitting on a street corner. She looked lost."

"How did you travel in time, exactly?" This was another young man. He was sitting in the center of the group and had short, straight, dark hair and dark eyes. This was the first time any of them had addressed Annette directly, and when he did so, the others turned to look at him.

Annette steeled herself to answer, taking a deep breath. Best to respond slowly, carefully. She glanced down at her shoes as she began to speak. "I don't … actually know. I left my apartment to take a walk … early in the afternoon, in, you know, 1949. I suddenly turned a corner and was in a place I'd never seen before. I guess I'd gone back in time then. I tried to turn around and go back where I came from, but the street I'd just left was gone, so I kept going, trying to find my way home. At some point, I got tired and sat down, and that's when Gavroche found me." Great, Annette thought to herself, as she finished. There really was no way to make her story sound sensible; telling it only reminded her of all the panic and confusion she'd felt that afternoon. They are going to think I'm an absolute nutcase.

Fortunately, Gavroche chimed in to help her out. "You see the way she's dressed? I've never seen clothes like hers before, but she says they're normal in her time."

"I have an identity card if you want to see it," she managed to offer. "My name is Annette Szekely, and I was born in 1930. I understand we're in 1832, here."

The dark-haired man nodded thoughtfully, and Annette reached into her purse and passed the card towards him. He looked at it for a second, turning it over.

"I know this sounds very strange. I assure you, it's as strange to me as it must be to you."

There was some laughter at this, and looking up, Annette was greeted with several friendly smiles. They might not believe her story, but they weren't being unkind, at least.

"I brought her here because she has some coins I wanted you to see, particularly you, Enjolras. I don't know what you would make of them." This was Marius, and the person he was addressing was indeed the dark-haired man sitting in the group's center. Well, that made some sense, didn't it?

Marius glanced towards Annette. Once again she reached into her little purse. Pulling out her five and ten-franc coins, she approached the table and handed them to Enjolras. He took them from her, handing back her card as he did so. He looked the coins over carefully.

As Enjolras studied the coins, Annette attempted to study him. He was the leader of the students' movement, after all; she was pretty sure that anything he decided, the others would follow. If she wanted to get them to change their plans in some way, getting him on board was key. Well, he was less impulsive, less impetuous than Marius – this she knew from the book. While Marius, having seen her coins, had evidently decided she was sympathetic and trustworthy, his comrades – and particularly Enjolras – might not do the same. There would probably be questions, maybe a probationary period of some kind, if she said she wanted to join them. She had heard such stories about the Resistance, from back during the war. So, what should she do? Whistle "Le chant des partisans?" "Sifflez, compagnons, dans la nuit la liberté nous écoute?" No, there was no way they would know that. It was written back only in '42 or '43, and besides, Annette wasn't sure that she could whistle, anyway. Should she sing the "Internationale" then? Had that been written yet? The "Marseillaise" would probably work...

Lifting her eyes, Annette really looked into Enjolras's face for the first time. She noted his strong features, the intelligence and intensity that sparkled in his brown eyes, ringed by long lashes. She could feel the energy radiating off of him, how his simple presence commanded the room. That, and he was really not bad looking at all: more than a little attractive, which was not helping her concentration whatsoever. Focus, Annette.

Finally, Enjolras looked up, handing the coins back to Annette. "You're from a time that has had another revolution," he said.

More than one. Still, the girl nodded. "I'm living in the 4th Republic." Query whether you can say it was a revolution that founded it, but … "In my time, these words written on my coins are common symbols of the nation, but I know the force and meaning they must have those who don't have the rights I enjoy."

Now, it was the young man's turn to nod thoughtfully. "The fourth?"

"I was born in the third. There was a war that ended it, for four years. That's why I know what it is like to have rights and then to have them taken away. When the war was over, though, the 4th Republic was established almost immediately. By the time in which I'm living, nobody even questions the idea that a democratic republic is the kind of government we should have." Was that true? Annette hoped that it had been the right thing to say, at least.

Enjolras looked up at his friends. "So, I guess what she's saying is, we're to found the second. Isn't that so?"

But Annette shook her head quickly. Enjolras turned back to her now, his expression inscrutable. "No?"

"…Not exactly." Her mouth was dry. The young man nodded again, holding her gaze with his own, the look in his eyes gradually sharpening as she stalled, but finally, he nodded once more, and he gave her a smile.

"I see. You'll tell me later."

At this, Enjolras began to introduce her to the other young men filling the café. Some waved or smiled; soon enough, the others began clamoring their own names. Annette tried to keep them straight: Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Joly … tried to match names to faces. Grantaire she should have recognized – he was slightly older, with reddish hair, in the corner with his bottle of wine and, if Annette's 20th-century taste was anything to go by, a god-awful green shirt. Everyone seemed friendly, welcoming, yet they looked at Annette with a bit of puzzlement and awe. It was Grantaire who tried to break the ice, patting the seat on the bench next to him and asking if she wanted something to drink.

Wine might not be a bad idea right now, the girl thought to herself, for lack of something stiffer, anyway. She briefly wondered whether women drank back in the 1830s. What would they think of her if she accepted? But then, Annette realized that having had nothing to eat all day, not counting the bread and butter and the orange for breakfast, drinking alcohol at the moment was probably a terrible idea. "Um, I would, but I haven't eaten anything recently, so…"

"You've been wandering all day, haven't you?" Gavroche piped up.

One of the students was already cutting off slices of bread, and another had got out some cheese, handing pieces to Annette, as well as to Gavroche and to Eponine, who had finally come forward from the door.

"Thank you," Annette began self-consciously. "In fact, I don't really have anything here in this time. I don't have a place to stay, and my money isn't any good here."

"Can she stay at your place, Monsieur Marius?" Eponine asked.

Annette turned to face the two of them. Marius had frowned, was biting his lower lip. He didn't want to say no, Annette supposed, but she could imagine how having a strange woman staying at his flat could be inconvenient, especially if he was trying to get up the courage to address the girl from the park – Cosette, of course, though she wasn't supposed to know that yet.

"There's a room above the café." Enjolras came to the rescue. "I don't think there's anything in it, maybe a table. We can get you some blankets at least and we'll try to scrounge up a mattress."

"That would be most kind, thank you." Then – "Can Eponine and Gavroche stay there, too? That is, if they want to?"

Enjolras shrugged. "There shouldn't be a problem. If anyone tries to bother you three, tell them I said you could stay there."

From the back of the room, Eponine's eyes were shining.

Marius finally spoke up. "You know, Annette, I would like to keep one or two of your coins, if you wouldn't mind. I'd be happy to exchange them for you with some of mine."

"For what? In my time they're worthless."

"They're not in symbolic value. I'd give you fifteen francs for fifteen of yours."

"That's a rotten exchange rate." But Annette could see what Marius was trying to do – give her something to live on without making her accept charity, so she took the coins he was holding out, placing those she still held in her hand in his. She smiled sheepishly.

"Is there any way we can get Annette some more normal clothes?" Eponine asked, then. "Everyone stares at her, the way she's dressed now. I'd give you a dress if I had another one, Annette, but…"

"You're right, she is conspicuous like that," Enjolras agreed. "Annette, …" He paused, then turned to the others, "could we buy her a dress? How much do they cost?"

The young men all looked almost nervously amongst themselves, and Annette couldn't help but begin to laugh. They had no idea! Nor did she, actually; she supposed if someone handed her some more coins, she could find a shop and get a dress, that is, if they even had prêt-à-porter back in 1832. She'd have no idea what kind of a dress to get, though. With her luck, she'd wind up with something just as outlandish as apparently they all thought what she was presently wearing was. Eponine wouldn't know any better, either, … nor could she possibly imagine any of the students accompanying her and having any clue how to counsel her what to buy. Besides, anything new would look too bourgeois, out of place in a revolution…

"Actually, could I borrow some clothes from you boys?" Annette finally asked. "I can work out a dress later, I guess, but I think I'd still get questions with my hair like it is. Maybe I could dress as a boy – I might fit in better. Besides," she turned to Eponine, "I don't know if you have to, but I've never worn a corset and wouldn't very much like to have to try."

There was laughter at this and even some applause. From somewhere, a cap like Gavroche's came flying towards her, which Annette – astonishingly, actually managed to catch. One young man offered a shirt he thought he had at home, another a pair of trousers that were too short for him, and a belt. Several got up, explaining that they would head back to their places to see what they had around and would return with what they found. Some others wanted to compare their feet sizes to Annette's, wondering if anyone possibly had boots small enough to fit her. If not, she could wear her sandals for the time being, and someone could take her to get a pair of shoes later.

So, those who thought they might have extra clothes at home left, including Marius, and Eponine with him, to pick up her soup. At first, Annette simply sat by those who remained, eating her bread and cheese. Grantaire cut some dried sausage for her and for the others, then – finding a glass, poured her some wine. For several minutes, she listened as the others talked. Occasionally, somebody asked her a question. The topics varied from the everyday to the political; she tried to follow as much as she could.

Glancing up from her glass, Annette saw Enjolras looking in her direction. His gaze was far away, actually; he perhaps wasn't even aware he was looking at her, but when she met his eyes and smiled, he smiled back.

"Thanks for all your help," she murmured.

"My pleasure. Say … I was thinking, do you have another ten-franc coin? I'd exchange it for one of ours, if you didn't mind."

She didn't have to ask why he wanted it. Reaching into her purse once again, she found one, and checking it quickly to make sure this one indeed had "liberté, égalité, fraternité" stamped on it, (for as far as Annette could remember, a whole load of coins had been issued since 1945, not all saying the same things on them), she passed it to him.

"You can keep it," she said. "You've given me enough … a place to stay, I don't need anything else."

"Still …" he passed her a coin, which she took. Then, "You've heard of us. Of our movement."

"I've read something," Annette admitted.

He nodded. For a second, he looked as if he was going to ask another question, but then he looked away, instead, examining the coin she had given him. Suddenly, Annette heard herself asking, "Which of them do you think is the most important?"

"What?"

"Well, between liberty and equality, I suppose. I've read that you think about these things a lot, and I wondered, because some people say that on a certain level, freedom and equality are incompatible."

Annette had heard this as a criticism of Marxism. Not that Enjolras was a Marxist per se; not exactly – had Marx even been born yet? But maybe he was a sort of proto-Marxist? This was the era of Utopian Socialism, wasn't it? What did that mean, anyway? Annette wished she remembered who had tried to talk to her about this, what whoever it was had said. That, and she wished she remembered what she'd learned in school about this era, now deeply regretting the general lack of attention she'd ever paid in school, in history in particular.

"In an absolute sense, you mean?" Enjolras asked.

"I suppose so."

"They have to be balanced with each other, then, don't they? Because one's freedom can't extend to … oppressing other people, say. What do you think?"

Around the table, Annette could see Enjolras's comrades looking at the two of them. Once again, the girl took a deep breath. Though she tried to think of something clever to say, when she responded, she did so honestly.

"I'm not sure. I think liberty is a more fundamental right, because everybody wants to be free. When people aren't free, they will join together and fight for it, even if they agree on nothing else. In the war in my time, during the German Occupation, all sorts of people joined the Resistance: left, right, communists, capitalists, bourgeois … even if their definition of liberty was different, in the end. Even if they didn't all believe that equality in society was possible, or even desirable."

"But, if you don't seek equality, you do nothing about the social problems, the suffering that the poor face now," Enjolras told her.

"Right. Have you thought about how you will convince people who maybe don't see that their natural interests also lie in helping the poor improve their lot?"

He frowned thoughtfully at this. "Those who can understand will be with us; swept up in the revolutionary élan," he finally told her. "Those who can't … in the end, the people are more numerous, anyway. We'll have the advantage."

Annette bit her lip. She ducked her face away, but Enjolras's eyes followed her – she wasn't sure he hadn't seen. He didn't press, though, and finally, Annette asked, "But, when it's over, have you thought about how to make those people work with you, once you've won? Do you know how you'll … you know, win the peace?"

"Win the peace?" Enjolras looked both puzzled and amused at the turn of phrase.

"Yes, because it seems to me that before you go to war, you should think about how to win the peace. And, well, when it comes down to it, the one might help with the other, too."

He snorted softly at this, half-smiling. Beyond that, though, Annette couldn't read his expression at all. In a way, he looked intrigued, and perhaps he appreciated the question. He didn't seem at all angry, at least. For a second, it again seemed like Enjolras was going to ask her something else, but at that moment, the rest of the students – plus Eponine with Marius – poured back into the café, carrying several blankets and cushions, a small bundle of clothing, as well as the small, now indubitably cold, pot of soup, and Annette had to go with them to set up the room upstairs.

AN:

"Sifflez, compagnons, dans la nuit la liberté nous écoute": "Whistle, companions (~comrades – in a 'brothers in arms' sense more than a communist sense), in the night liberty listens to us," the last line of the "Chant des partisans" – written in 1943. There's a lot more information on Wikipedia, including a full translation of the lyrics, if you want to know more.