Éponine did come back to Le Café. But the next time Grantaire saw her wasn't there.

The morning after their encounter at the market, Grantaire woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. Groaning, he rolled over and yanked his pillow over the top of his head. The only person who ever visited him was his landlord, and he wasn't in the mood for his complaints or demands.

The knocking persisted however, and finally he rose, cursing under his breath. He staggered towards the door, weighted by fatigue and his typical hangover, and practically fell onto the doorknob. When he tugged it open, she stood before him.

"Éponine!" he cried out, for the second time in twenty-four hours.

She smiled up at him, and for once it wasn't mocking. "Morning 'Taire." She brushed past him and made her way to his bed. Hoisting herself up on it, she pulled her knees into her chest comfortably. "Hangover?" she asked as Grantaire blinked at her stupidly, mouth hanging slightly open.

"Always," he replied, after finding his tongue.

She grinned.

Grantaire eyes flicked up and down her frame. "What are you doing here?" He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or concerned. She wasn't wearing any new bruises and she was smiling. But there had to be some reason for her to show up at his door like this, and he couldn't think of many good ones.

Éponine shrugged. "No ABC Meeting today. And I don't need to work til the evening."

Grantaire stared. He lifted a hand to the back of his head and scratched at his unwashed hair. "So... You just came to... hang out?"

Éponine arched an eyebrow. "I can leave if you prefer."

"No! No, please. Stay."

Éponine and Grantaire lay, shoulder to shoulder, on his bed. She'd kicked off her shoes a while ago and now she had one foot lifted in the air, testing how many different ways she could wiggle her bare toes.

A bottle of absinthe and whiskey sat on his bedside table – but both were barely touched.

"Why don't the other Amis de l'ABC accept you, 'Taire?" Éponine asked unexpectedly, looking over at him.

Grantaire was slightly taken aback at first. But then he shrugged. "I'm not a revolutionary, like them," he answered simply. "I don't have faith the way they do. Don't have faith in anything. Nihilist, they would call me. Skeptic."

Éponine chortled. "Whatever that means."

Grantaire couldn't help but smile. Not at her lack of education – at her lack of prejudice.

"I think they tolerate me alright," he said, bumping his foot lightly against hers. "I'm not one of them, but they don't mind having me around. Well, except for... you know."

Éponine glanced up at him, and her eyes softened into something like compassion. Recalling the golden-haired leader's repulsed looks and harsh sneers towards Grantaire, she asked, "And why does he hate you?"

Grantaire winced, and Éponine regretted not having minced words. But after a moment he simply sighed and answered in a husky voice: "Because he has more faith than all of them put together."

Éponine shuffled downward on the bed and lay her head on Grantaire's shoulder. They were silent for a few moments.

"Monsieur Marius come to the meetings while I was gone?" she asked finally.

Grantaire shook his head. "No. He's been absent too."

She nodded, her sharp cheek rubbing against him. "Colour me surprised." Her voice was more deflated than bitter. "Guess he isn't really one of them either, is he? Only takes a pretty face to pull him away..."

Grantaire squeezed her bony shoulder, comfortingly. "Yeah... Pontmercy has faith alright – but he's a Bonapartist. So no, not one of Les Amis."

Éponine suddenly pulled away from him and rolled over onto her side, so she could look at Grantaire directly. Her steel gray eyes glinted at him.

"You have faith, 'Taire."

He cocked his head. "Hm?" When she didn't elaborate, he prompted again. "What do you mean, Ép?"

Éponine only smiled and nuzzled back into him.

Éponine didn't know what Nihilist meant. Or Skeptic. But she knew that it was Grantaire's faith which had drawn out her own. Coaxed it, gently but persistently, as it squirmed and struggled like a worm on a hook.

Éponine did know what the word Friendship meant. In theory, formerly – in practice now. She knew that Friendship was a leap of faith... Possibly one of the largest one could take. For was there a less deserving object of faith than that of another human being? Human beings were so fickle, so back-stabbing, so casually cruel. Human beings only knew how to use, hurt, and devour one another.

… But not Grantaire. Grantaire let her sleep in his bed and didn't try to touch her. Grantaire bought Azelma rolls and her whiskey, and never made her pay for anything – never made her "earn her keep". Grantaire stared at her bruised face with anguished concern, not with amused sadism. Grantaire jumped away in horror when she told him he was hurting her.

Éponine closed her eyes against her friend's shoulder and hummed softly. Tonight, she'd have to go back to the Montparnasses and Thénardiers of the world. But today... she'd be with Grantaire. The one person who merited her faith.