A/N: Hah! I did it and I delivered. So, here's the next chapter, finally going back to the Musain. It's the longest one yet, so enjoy. I hope you have fun reading it, I sure had fun writing it. Even though the full set of Les Amis is certainly a handfull...

Thanks to tinmiss, who reviewed, and to everyone who follows and favs. I appreciate comments, and look forward to them. Drop me a line, if you like it, or if you don't - in short: Let me know what you think, and if I'm on a good track.

I've been experimenting with different ways of speaking for the Amis and the Thenadiers, to show the difference in education and society. I'm a bit unsure how that turned out, me not being a native speaker at all. Suggestions?

Oh, and by the way - did anyone realize where all the quotes in the beginning of the chapters are coming from? Virtual cookies for those, who tell me :-)

Thanks again to judybear236

Chapter 7: Beauty in the face of man

"What's inside there?"
"One moment of perfect beauty."

Eponine sat in the Café Musain with her brother and the remaining members of the Friends of the ABC, not really knowing why she was still there. Probably, it was because no one had told her to go away – a rare occurrence in itself – and because the combination of being wounded and in pain, the fading effect of the alcohol she had been given to soothe the stitching and the food she had eaten made her slightly drowsy.

No one seemed to mind, though.

The conversation around the table was lightning quick and difficult to follow, ideas chased references she did not know, and clever jokes only half told but fully understood exchanged with bits and pieces of planning, and she could not help but feel reminded of a group of jugglers she had seen at a market once, throwing balls between them from one to the other, blindly knowing the comrade's position and timing, moving in fast, practiced, comfortable paths.

Gavroche did not seem to have the same trouble she had, sitting there, still digging into the food, grinning broadly, piping in a comment at times. It was clear as daylight that he was so very comfortable with the group of young boys.

And yet, her position as an observer allowed her a singular perspective on this group of young men, included in their circle, yet not part of them. It made her sensitive to the shifts and undercurrents of the conversation going on before her, and she watched with a detached interest that she attributed to her slightly tired, yet overall comfortable state.

There was an odd mixture between fear and excitement wavering between them. Both were present in the faces and words of every one of the students, the mixture tempered differently for each of them, and the conversation drifted between these poles, probably unnoticed by them, yet not much less present.

And they were worried. From time to time, one of them would bring up one of the comrades that were currently not with them – be it Marius, one of the number of those that sought to retrieve him, or the two others still missing from their ranks, going by the name of Grantaire and Bahorel. This would be countered by stories, anecdotes concerning the respective man, and eventually, some sort of reassurance that he would be fine, and that there was nothing to worry.

Which was the clearest sign that they indeed did. Worry, that is.

Another subject of their concern, though less profound, less poignant, were other groups like theirs, names, that Eponine could not place, but that were colored with care for the well-being of the people in question as well. It was a strange view through a window into another world, a world where boys were playing at dreams and illusions, where hope was high and opportunities present.

In parts, it angered her. In parts, it made her sad. She had seen the end of all hope, had felt the deep fall from grace, when she was still very young. Sitting here, in this atmosphere of light and optimism made her feel incredibly old, so much older than all the young faces around her.

And for a moment, it made her long for something unnamed that was so distinctly out of her grasp. She had seen specters of it in the eyes of Marius Pontmercy, who showed her kindness and won her heart with this. But it was this instant, that she understood, that behind Marius, behind her affection for him that held deep and true, there was also the longing for something else, slipping through her fingers, as she tried to grasp it.

Maybe it was the happy heart of a child, safe, cared for and with a future to have and to hold. Maybe it was hope, a path before her eyes, wherever it may lead her. Or a moment of perfect beauty, hidden in the face of the world, for no one's eyes to see.

If nothing else, then the reaction to steps coming towards the back room of the Musain, heralding another arrival, told her of the tension that lay between them unseen.

Courfeyrac jumped up, while Combeferre and Jehan turned their gazes a little too quickly towards the door. Enjolras, probably the calmest of them all, leaned back in a studied gesture that belied his tension only to the trained observer. Gavroche, finally, turned around on his chair, calling out

"Eh, who's there?"

"Melusine", came a snarky and most definitely not female reply, quickly followed by the entrance of another young man, dark-eyed, black-haired, a grin on his face that to Eponine seemed slightly strained. He was dressed peculiarly, wearing a coat of almost stifling blue that looked expensive and a trifle extravagant – a clothing that would have immediately made his pockets a prime target for her quick fingers, in another life, another place, another time, had it not been for the sheer speed and energy, with which he entered the room.

"Bahorel!" The tension in the room evaporated at Courfeyrac's joyful exclamation, and he stepped towards the newly arrived, pulling him into a brotherly hug. "So good to see you!"

Bahorel – for that was indeed the name of the young man – returned the gesture and then proceeded to greet all the others present with the same overflowing energy and cordiality. As he grasped Enjolras' arm in a brotherly gesture, clapped Jehan's shoulders and shook Combeferre's hand, Eponine could again sense the delicate spell of something in the air, of completion and relief, of parts of a whole moving together in unison and depending on one another for strength and company. They were indeed family, more of a family than her own had been at the best of times – for even then there had been those cherished, and those less cherished, and this sort of competition was absent in the group before her. It was a strange wonder to behold.

The newly arrived then turned to Gavroche, to ruffle his hair affectionately, and last stopped before her, giving the slightest of bows before her. His eyes were laughing.

"Mademoiselle", he greeted her, and she was not sure whether she was being mocked. "To what do we own the pleasure?"

But before she could reply – or ask him if he knew her, and if yes, then from where - he turned towards the others again, all playfulness gone from his face, dark eyes serious and tense.

"I take it you know it, then", he started without introduction, sitting down and taking some of the wine that had not gone out since it had first been ordered, courtesy of Courfeyrac.

"Obviously this depends on what 'it' is", Enjolras replied, not without sting. "But if you are referring to the fact, that there have been assassination attempts on the members of revolutionary groups, then yes, we know indeed." He gave an appreciative nod to Eponine, which surprised her, since she had gone unremarked by the group for some time before now.

"Pontmercy, Jehan and myself have been targeted, and if not for the quick thinking of Mademoiselle, I am not sure that the attempt would not have been successful."

Barohel turned towards her, as if seeing and reassessing her again.

"Then you have my profound thanks, Mademoiselle", and Eponine did not know how to respond to the fact, that everyone was expressing such gratitude for a deed that she was neither very proud of, nor thought to be supremely clever now, in hindsight. She settled for a careful smile and a – quickly regretted – shrug, which elicited a comradely twinkle from Bahorel, before he rejoined the discussion with his friends.

"So, where's the rest?"

"Marius has run off to a place I certainly don't need to indicate to you", Enjolras said, not without sarcasm. "Joly, Bossuet and Feuilly have followed to make sure he comes to no harm. As to Grantaire…" he shrugged a bit helplessly.

"… he's sitting in the main room having a lady on his lap", Bahorel said, unable to hide a grin. "No worries needed there."

Enjolras snorted, but let it pass for the moment.

"So, tell us. What's going on?"

"The picture is still not clear", continued Bahorel. "After what I heard from the Barriere du Maine, I have taken some time to wander around, check on people, to find out what has been going on."

"That's much appreciated", Combeferre intercepted, and the worry in his voice was evident now.

"So", Bahorel started. "From what I can tell, situation is this. At the Barriere du Maine, someone has killed Jacques and Antoine Virille, in plain daylight and in a very public place, too. I did not nose around too much there, because the police arrived pretty quickly to conduct their own investigations, and I did not think it very wise to attract too much attention with questions of my own. As for Faubourg St. Antoine, Marcel Devereux was found dead in the Rue de Charonnes, a knife wound in his back. He was hidden fairly well, so that he was only found some time after he had died, so it's not clear when it actually happened. I then turned to Issy, for I knew that the Cougourde would be meeting there today. I am not sure what actually happened there, but there seems to have been an incident at a small fair that had set up its tents in that part of town. I did not find anyone to give me the particulars - there were lots of stories and very little overlap to them – but there seems to have been some attack as well, and then a lot of students and the like scattering off in various directions. No dead reported, but several people said that three young men had been transported to a hospital, though I am not sure which one. I have tried to find someone from the Faubourg St. Marceaux cell, or from the Picpus, but I have not been successful in either venture. Therefore, it is difficult to say, if they are just going about their business, or if something has happened there, that has not yet surfaced to the light of day."

Combeferre thoughtfully placed his fingertips against each other and gazed to the table unseeing.

"An unpleasant picture, to say the least."

"True my friend. " This was Enjolras. "In less than a day, we have gone from a group operating under the veil of secrecy to an army besieged, of sorts. This is earlier than we all anticipated, and yet, the deed cannot and will not be undone, and therefore we must adapt to it to successfully ride the tide." He got up and started pacing, with barely suppressed energy, from the window to the opposing wall and back, like a tiger caged, as he lay out his thoughts before his friends.

"So, we have to attend to first things first. The first, and most imperative is, to escape the imminent danger at hand. While the faces and goals of the attackers are still veiled from us, and while we are at a disadvantage, survival becomes imperative so that we may battle this threat to the best of our abilities. My friends, game has become war, there is no denying that."

He hesitated for a moment, before continuing. Eponine blinked quickly, deciphering the complicated phrasing with some difficulty, marveling at the tense atmosphere that suddenly had filled the room. She had seen Enjolras speak, in public places, before, but this here was something different. This was the smithy of plans and ideas, not unlike, but much brighter than one of the hide-outs that Patron-Minette used to assemble and lay out their schemes in, but the atmosphere was a different one, one of grim determination and calm confidence, and of an energy so strong she thought, she might catch it with her bare hands if she tried.

"The second step will be to acquire more information on the damage wrought and still intended. It is vital, that we contact all of those that promised themselves to our common cause, to ascertain their well-being and determination in the days to come. We will think about this, as soon as the first is resolved. Thirdly, we have to find out the face of the attackers, their nature, capabilities and support. And only when this trinity is achieved, we can devise ways to continue our fight."

"Well spoken, my friend", Combeferre replied, nodding appreciatively. "Indeed, intelligence is the first goal of the moment. While I agree with you", he took up a thread from earlier in the discussion, before the arrival of Bahorel, "that this may be possibly used to our advantage as well – depending on the nature of the attacker, this may allow us to win more sympathetic ears than before, the situation is still unclear and needs redefinition."

A hint of a smile danced around Enjolras' mouth.

"I do heed your advice, from time to time", he intercepted drily.

"Which is well noted and appreciated", Combeferre retorted with a similar smile to his lips. "So this means that we should not be left to wander the streets alone, as a first measure."

"Should be no problem", Courfeyrac intercepted, turning to the practical. "Bousset is staying with Joly anyhow, so they can go home to the same place, and probably drop off one or two of the others in the process. Probably I can take Marius in again, so that he doesn't have to stay in that hideout of his during this time – I'm not sure his door even has a proper lock, if I'm honest – and as for the rest we should be able to bring all of you home safely, and for tomorrow, we can devise a routine as well, if needed. That's the least of our worries."

"Not gonna be enough."

Eponine felt everyone's eyes turning towards her, and regretted in the same instant, that she had spoken at all. She was not sure, why she had decided to join the discussion– it had been born more of the spur of a moment, than out of real reflection leading up to a decision, but now, that she had started, she could not take back the words and there was only one way to go.

However, the atmosphere around the table was not a hostile one, despite her having been silent all the time before and now stepping in during the heat of the discussion. Indeed, the center of attention was now focused on her, and she dimly noted Combeferre's slightly raised brow, and Bahorel's frown.

With an ease that she could not tell the source of, Enjolras demanded and focused her attention with the simple movement of one digit to his lips in a thoughtful gesture.

"Go on?"

His eyes were blue, like the sky on a frosty winter morning, and fully focused on her now, as if seeing her for the first time. Perhaps he was. And Eponine lurched forward, since there was no turning back.

"Whoever that was, he knows his way around the streets. You go home in a group all right, that might scare him off, sure. But what should keep him from coming while you sleep?"

"Well, the rooms would be locked, for sure", Jehan contradicted, which elicited a laugh from Eponine.

"If what I've seen from them is anything to go by, that's not gonna keep them, if they are really determined. Fences can be climbed. Locks picked."

She closed her mouth. If she correctly judged the slight frown appearing on Enjolras' face, she had already said too much.

"She's right", Gavroche added from beside her, and all his good humor had flown to be replaced by worry. "If they're really from the streets, they won't be scared off so easily."

"But are they?" Combeferre turned to the Thenadier siblings, looking from one to the other. "From the streets, that is?"

"The guy that tried to kill you speaks Argot all right", Gavroche said. "I've been wondering when I first saw him, 'cause he was dressed like a merchant or summat like, but that would mean he's had 'is share of rough times."

"But you don't know him." It didn't really sound like a question, and Gavroche shook his head. "Never seen that guy in me life. He's probably not from St. Michel."

"Or has been gone for longer than you can remember running around the quarter", Eponine added. "I mean, the guy was not young, was he?"

"Nah, sure", Gavroche shrugged. Apparently, he did not like being reminded that he had not been around always, to roam these streets at pleasure and know it as his very own playground.

"So, all things considered", Combeferre summarized, "it would be safer to assume, that they do indeed possess some of the shadier talents of which we should be weary."

In a gesture, that was almost eerily similar, both Thenadier siblings nodded.

"What would you propose then?" Enjolras focused on the task at hand.

Eponine and Gavroche exchanged a look, that belied a higher familiarity with one another than either of them would have the Friends believe.

"Don't be alone", Eponine started. "Like – ever. And don't sleep all at the same time. There should always be one awake to take the watch, at least until you know what's going on, or you can find a safe haven for you. Don't let them catch you unawares. Don't be unarmed, 'cause they won't."

Gavroche nodded.

"That's what we did, once, the boys and I, when we ran into trouble", he emphasizes, and grins, apparently taken by his own cleverness. "Worked like magic."

"Group at least three of us together, each, you mean", Enjolras concluded. "That would allow some sort of watch keeping at least. We cannot do this forever, of course, but to gain some time and to find what's going on, I think this may be possible."

He counted through the assembled, frowning deeply.

"So, I would send Feuilly off with Bousset and Joly, seeing as how they already spent half the afternoon together. Bahorel, could you take Jehan and Grantaire with you?"

The young dandy laughed slightly.

"That's provided that I can extract him from his place down in the main room, you mean."

"Provided, yes", Enjolras concluded with a slight sigh. "Anyhow, Courfeyrac, apart from Marius, would you mind taking Gavroche with you? As for me, my apartment should be sufficiently large to host both you, Combeferre, and Mademoiselle Eponine."

That last two bits, however, elicited slightly shocked exclamations from both the Thenadier siblings. While Eponine was slowly coming to terms with the fact, that she had helped the Friends of the ABC, first in deed, and then in advice, this was going quite a few steps too far for her taste.

"I am sorry, Monsieur", she intercepted. "I appreciate it, really, but I don't think that's necessary."

Again, she found herself under the scrutiny of clear blue eyes, a blonde brow raised in slight irony.

"I beg to differ, Mademoiselle", Enjolras replied drily. "Apart from the fact, that you have been wounded today – and no trifle wound at that, which is actually why I would prefer to have you placed with one of our doctors-to-be - have you considered, that you have been seen? And that in doing what you did, at least in the eyes of our attackers, you might be as well a part of our group? Your life – I hate to say – is as much in danger as ours. And we would do your brave deed of this morning poor justice, if we would forget this."

There was a certain reasoning in his words, and no condemnation or reservation whatsoever to who – or what – she was. And yet, apart from the fact that she simply did not want to do what Enjolras proposed – yes, she was in need of a place to sleep, but it was summer and warm – there was also no way that she could do it.

The words of her father had been crystal clear. Be back at midnight, he had said. Meet me in the silver hall. And disobeying him had never, ever turned out well.

Of course, she could always escape from the place that they were trying to convince her to go, but that would defy the whole purpose of the exercise, and she did not want the blood of Enjolras and Combeferre on her hands in any shape or form. They had been nice to her. Such a thing was precious, and she recognized it as such.

"Monsieur, I appreciate your offer, I really do. However, to be blunt, to walk with you would put me probably in more danger than if you just let me roam on my own." That much was almost true, at least. She smiled a grim smile. "I'm a street rat, Monsieur. I know my way 'round."

"No doubt about that." Combeferre's voice betrayed clearly that he liked no more than Enjolras what she said. "Are you really determined?"

Eponine's gaze wandered from Combeferre to Enjolras. The former one's eyes were easier to counter – the leader of the ABCs used his gaze as a sort of weapon, and he was fully aware of its deadliness, but Eponine had seen worse things in her life, much worse, and she knew how to stand her ground.

"I am", she answered, and got up. A part of her was not happy about leaving this safe haven, but she felt that she had overextended her welcome, and she was not sure, if she stayed, that it would be easier later to leave. Following an impulse, that she did not fully understand, she offered. "I'm sorry. But I think I will have to leave now."

Enjolras held her eyes for a moment, searching, inquiring, a silent battle in the twinkle of an eye.

She did not lose, and finally he nodded in acquiescence and got up.

"Mademoiselle, the free will of a determined person is not to be swayed, this I see."

She stepped towards the door – carefully, but much more surely than before, food and drink had certainly seen to that – and he cut her to it, meeting her at the entrance. For a wild moment, Eponine thought, that he would stop her, but he did not. Instead, he held out his hand and clasped her good arm, more in a gesture of camaraderie than of politeness. She was surprised enough to let it happen and looked at him quizzically, trying to ascertain his motives. He did not give anything away, but was deadly serious. His eyes were cold, but not unkind, and when he spoke, his voice did not carry far, but brought forth a certain intensity that caught her unawares.

"Again, Mademoiselle, I thank you for the deed you have done today. I am well aware of the debt that I owe you. Rest assured, I will not forget it."

She nodded, without knowing why, and he continued.

"Some of us, at least, will stay at 7, Rue Pascal today. Know, that you will be welcome there, and here in the Café, if the need arises."

He briefly tightened his grip on her arm, and nodded quickly, as if to confirm what he had just said.

"Thank you", Eponine managed, slightly shaken and unsure what to do with this new sort of admittance. But then, he released her arm, and she was free to go.

Which she did, trying not to make it look like flight.