A/N: Here comes the next one. Nowhere near as shippy as the last one, I am afraid, but we have to get back and get some more plot rolling. So here you will have Ponine learning new tricks, Courfeyrac just being Courfeyrac and... well... everyone just trying to be good revolutionaries

Chapter 80: The art of negotiation

„You're not exactly in a position to bargain" „Neither are you"

„Oi, 'Ponine!"

She had just closed the door of the house in Rue Pascal behind her when she heard the voice of her little brother calling her from across the street.

Night had fallen and she was tired – good heavens, she was tired – but if she should have any chance at success carrying out Combeferre's idea, then she had not an instant to lose. Especially not an instant of nighttime, which, for the likes of the people she wanted to meet first, tended to be a much busier time than the light of day. Maybe she could grab a few hours of rest in the small hours of the morning.

Hence, she had drunk two cups of the good coffee Enjolras kept and left Combeferre to finish the article that was expected by Le Globe shortly after midnight - which meant that the student was running out of time as much as she was.

No rest, it seemed, for the wicked and desolate such as her.

She had decided to start with Cortez. He was the natural choice. In turning him around, Montparnasse could do the biggest amount of damage, so this was where he would probably go first. But also, Eponine had not forgotten how he had behaved during the discussion he had had with her and Enjolras. For all that he had tried to play hardball, the price for his help had been ridiculously low. And for all that he had intended to hide it, there had been something interesting to him in what he had been proposed.

Which, on top of the first point, gave her at least a reasonable chance of success.

And this did not even factor in that Cortez was a man of many talents and favors. If truly buying into the story, he could be a valuable asset.

She wondered what Enjolras would make of that idea. And wondered why she cared.

But for now, she first turned to her little brother, who ran along the street clearly aiming for her.

„Gavroche", she acknowledged him as he caught up with her. „You just caught me."

„The chief said he'd sent you to sleep", he teased with a grin. „Told him that there's fat chance you'd do that, but somehow he didn't want to hear it." He shoved against her side and gave her a twinkle.

Eponine shrugged. „Things came up", she admitted. „I got to be off."

Gavroche nodded, but fell in step beside her, his manner again imitating the behaviour of a man twice his age.

„Listen, Ponine, I know you're probably busy, but can you maybe go to the Salpetrie tonight?"

Eponine frowned.

„Why would I?"

The Salpetrie was not exactly out of her way, but she had other things to do, and other things on her mind. And it was not a place she harboured fond memories of. Too many desolate hours she had spent there being someone that she – as she realized now – would rather forget.

Gavroche shrugged.

„Gueulemer. He's offering you a deal."

Eponine looked at him, frowning deeply. Of all the things she thought she might be doing with her time, meeting up with a member of Patron Minette did not even make the list.

„Like hell"; she shot back dismissively. „There's other ways I can make myself unhappy tonight. And probably will."

Her litte brother gave her a shove.

„Up to you of course"; he admitted. „But I had the strangest conversation with him, and actually, I'm curious. I might even join the conversation. Maybe something comes off it."

Eponine halted in her stride, turning around fully to face him.

„You'll have to give me more than that."

„I've had the weirdest conversation with him. I've been trying to find Montparnasse, and actually, I did find him. I don't advise you go after him, though. The place reeked of trouble."

Eponine was about to say something, but her little brother did not wait for her to speak and continued.

„Anyhow, I think we can safely confirm he's thrown in his lot with the guys that killed the revolutionaries. And Gueulemer was there and looked less than thrilled about that."

Eponine hesitated for a moment. That somewhat changed things. She had never really thought about Gueulemer, he had always simply been the one that trailed behind the more active and clever members of Patron-Minette. To be honest, she was not sure she even knew him at all.

But what Gavroche told her was interesting. And, maybe it made sense to try her hand at this new approach she was about to start on someone easier. Or, at least, someone less risky. There was comparatively little harm Gueulemer could do in that way.

Better ruin the relationship with someone she had known for a while and not really cared about than ruin the ground they were all standing on.

„All right", she decided. „Let's hear what he has to say."

They slipped into the deserted factorie of La Salpetrie unseen. Eponine had come here so often she had lost count. It was where Patron-Minette met if they did not intend to immediately depart for one of their coups. The silver hall was for assembly in the city. The officer's club was recreation and hideout. La Salpetrie, desolate as it was, was home.

Gavroche followed her without hesitation. Unlike her, he had mostly stayed away from the associates of her father, but his street rat senses had him well suited to slip through the cracks, wall openings and decaying corridors that led to the hideout that Patron-Minette usually assembled in.

The night was cool after the warm early summer day and Eponine shivered as she travelled through the damp rooms, only vaguely lit by moonlight. It was not so long ago that she had last been here, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Meeting her old, regular haunts like this only put in sharp relief how much had happened these last days. And how much she had changed.

If she would have needed confirmation of the decision she had come to during the last hours – which, in all honesty, had rather been a set of decisions, one after the other, baby step after baby step – she would have found it here, in the face of a life, she realized, she did not want to go back to.

And yet, she was here to meet part of her old life again.

Before she entered the part of the building where they usually met, Gavroche took a few steps aside to scout around. Neither of them really thought this was a trap – Gavroche was quite sure that he had been genuine in his words towards him adn thought the man capable of much, but not clever deception – but it did not hurt to be cautious. There had been too many unpleasant discoveries lately.

True to his word, Gueulemer was there, leaning against the wall in their old hovel, raising his head as she appeared, and giving her a grim nod.

„That was quick", he offered gruffly, leaving Eponine to wonder whether this was a compliment of sorts.

„Coincidence", she answered. „And I was curious."

Gueulemer shrugged.

„All the same to me"; he admitted. He was a man capable of incredible stillness, and yet, Eponine realized, that his fingers were tapping against the wall, a small, but deceptive motion. She wondered if he was nervous. She had never figured him to be someone even capable of that feeling. But then, she had never met him without the constant company of the others.

These days put all of them in unfamiliar places.

She decided to cut to the heart of the matter.

„Gavroche said you needed my help."

„Yeah."

Gueulemer handed over to her a slip of paper. Eponine took it in her hands and looked at it. It was a list, most of the items written on it unfamiliar to her. From what little she understood, Combeferre might come in handy understanding it.

She looked up to the man again.

„What of it?"

„I gotta get this stuff from the Ravierre pharmacy on Boulevard des Italiens."

Eponine raised a brow, but connected the dots quickly.

„Toureille, right?"

Gueulemer nodded.

„Gotta do it tonight, he said. As price."

„There's a price to everything, is there not?"

There was little subtlety, but this was not Montparnasse, Babet or Cortez. Gueulemer pressed his lips together, not happy about the reminder of the debt this would place him in. And there was no reason to beat around the bush.

„Two actually", she said, a little mercilessly. „One for getting you out of La Force, and one for this."

Gueulemer only nodded.

„So two favors", she continued mercilessly. „One now, and one later. And depending on now, maybe the later won't even hurt quite as much". She attempted a smile to lighten the mood. It was more a reflex than a calculated gesture, but to her surprise, something on his face softened for a moment.

That was unexpected, but she decided it might come in handy later. Maybe it even was a good sign.

„All right. The first one's easy", she began. „I want you to listen to what I have to say, and seriously consider it, even though it sounds crazy to you at first."

She was not sure what sort of reaction she had expected. For all she knew of Gueulemer, he preferred his life simple and had left the plannings and considerations to his cleverer comrades. He did not really have the brain or the heart for complex matters and was content to follow the others and take the scraps that were his due.

Which is why, whatever reaction could have been expected from him, thoughtful silence had not even made her list.

He looked at her with a frown, his hand taking up his nervous tapping against the wall again as he apparently thought her proposal over.

Eponine forced herself to patiently wait. In the shadows, she saw a motion and realized it was Gavroche, who had finalized his prowl along the premises and gave her a short sign telling her everything was clear.

Gueulemer turned his head and saw the same, snorted briefly and shook his head.

„Should've known", he said.

„Hey no worries." Gavroche, merry as a lark, stepped out of the shadows. „Old times sake and all. I just tagged along for a ride. Depending on your plan, may even be an extra pair of hands. What'dya say?"

Gueulemer looked at the gamin, then back at Eponine, obviously still considering his situation. And then, finally he nodded.

„All right", he said. „I'm listening."

Eponine took a deep breath. She had spent the better part of her way here trying to sort out her thoughts with the help of her little brother. Gavroche, after learning of Combeferre's idea, had been sold to the plan immediately and contributed enthusiastically, calling them the 'merry Thenardier revolutionaries, just like Enjolras and Courfeyrac with a little more dirt.'

„I'm done with this shit", she said, a wave of her hand encompassing all of her surroundings. „The Salpetrie, the Gorbeau house, Patron-Minette and all of their little petty ways of making money. Don't worry, I will help you with Ravierre, but thats a means to an end. I am sick and tired of all of this."

She sighed.

„Have been for a while, actually, but in all honesty, I didnt think there was another way. But maybe there is."

Gueulemer shifted his stance from one leg to the other, his arms still crossed in front of him, is face unscrutinable.

„I always thought this was just my lot. Our lot in the world. Some just get the bad side of the deal. But these days I think there's more to that. A lot of things are changing in the city."

He snorted.

„True", he admitted. „But if you tell me you are going Montparnasse, I'm leaving and finding me someone else who can read." Gruff. And with underlying anger.

That was, to some extent, a surprise. Eponine cocked her head.

„What do you mean?"

Gueulemer snorted again in derision.

„Look. I don't know what his deal is exactly. I don't fournicate with the Cognes. And those fellows he allied himself with? Bad news, the lot of them, for all I know. No idea what's really going on there but I don't like it one bit."

„Neither do I." Eponine could barely hide her surprise. This was probably the longest speech she had ever heard him make, and the most vehement one at that. And Gueulemer seemed to have better instincts than she gave him credit for. „I don't blame him for wanting to get out of this. Hell. I want out of this. But I don't want it on the back of the rest of us. If the world is rotten it doesnt get any better by changing to the side of those that want to keep it that way for scraps off their table."

Gueulemer thought of that for a moment.

„That's what he did, eh?"

„Yeah, that's what he did. Those guys are bad news allright. And they are because the high-ups did their best to assemble the shadiest characters they could find and let them lose. Some people are really terrified of the things that are actually going on in the city. Things that might make everything better. Montparnasse blew up a wine shop full of young people planning revolution."

„That thing in the Rue de la Chanvrerie?" Gueulemer actually unfolded his arms and stared at Eponine in surprise.

„Yeah", she answered. „That was him. Some...", she wondered how far she should go. But in the end, there was probably no harm in going to the end. „Some friends of mine were there. Some died." That was stretching it a bit when it came to Grantaire. But she had not forgotten the devastation in Enjolras eyes, and that struck almost just as close to home.

„You were there?" If she didnt know better she would have read some concern into Gueulemer's voice. He exhibited his emotions in minute shades of gruffness, but that reply definitely came a bit too quickly. She shook her head.

„I might have. But he made sure I wasn't."

„Hm", Gueulemer huffed, and fell silent for a moment. And then „Revolutionaries, Ponine? Seriously?"

She sighed, then nodded.

„Look. I don't pretend to be sure that what they do is going to work. I don't pretend that I understand all that they plan to change circumstance. But I do think I understand where they are coming from. And I know they are serious. They wanna put away with this endless circle of being born poor and remaining so. They wanna make sure that one gets a chance at least. To learn to read", she raised the paper he had given her. „To find a place. To not be burdened by the stuff that's keeping so many of us down. They listen to me, they really do. As if...", she shrugged. „Well. As if I was one of them. That's why I believe they are serious about us. About those of us at least, that dont want this any more."

„Hm." Another non-sequitur coming from the man in front of her. His expression was still neutral, but that was probably something to be spoken for. He had not run. He had not put her down. He had not laughed.

Either he was still processing what she had said, or he was considering.

„And now Montparnasse wants me to betray them. Or he will tell everyone that I'm not good on my word. That I don't pay my debts."

Another „Hm", from Gueulemer on that, his thick mouth slightly twisting in derision. „You're not a liar 'Ponine, not on things that matter."

She fell silent for a moment, as she felt a lump forming in her throat. This statement, offhanded and natural as it had been, came completely unexpected and distracted her for a moment. When before, she had not been sure, actually now she was. She did not know Gueulemer at all. And while he was certainly not as devious as her father, not as ruthless as Montparnasse or clever as Babet, he had his own observations, and probably more secure, because they were won with more difficulty. She fumbled for an answer, and settled for a simple „Thank you."

Gueulemer shrugged again and averted his gaze, letting silence drop between them again for a moment. She guessed he was thinking things over and let him have his time, taking the opportunity to recover from what he had said.

„If you don't get it in full, I clearly won't", he said ultimately, turning back to her previous point about the revolutionaries. „But that you trust it counts for something. Not sure what yet. I'll think about it."

That, Eponine thougth, was probably as much as could be expected from this very first conversation, and she took a careful, deep breath. He had not denied her, not laughed at her. Not dismissed her outright. And even if this went awry, there was always the second favor she could call.

Although, strangely, she thought Combeferre was right. Maybe these were times for revolutionaries. Not street rats.

„So", Gavroche finally broke the silence since neither Eponine nor Gueulemer found words to do so. „We raid Ravierre, or what?"

The city was boiling under the surface.

Walking alongside Adelaide towards the Faubourg St. Antoine, where Adelaide had organized the meeting in the Corbeau, he realized for the first time how much the mood had changed during the last days. They had been so caught up in their own struggles and plannings that they had not stopped to listen, really listen to the heartbeat of the city, not him, not even Bahorel who was usually most attuned to the moods of Paris.

But it was true. Despite what had happened to the Corinthe, most of the taverns were fully lit and full of people, music and snippets of discussions everywhere. As they passed the quarter, they saw some familiar faces, some of the Saint Antoine group, some associates of Jeanne that Adelaide pointed out to him, deep in discussion with others, students, workingmen, abaisses alike. People sat in the small parks and public squares, enjoying the warm evening that promised that summer had now well and truly come.

They did not stop to listen to the discussions, but he doubted that the flurry of activity was coming only from the beginnings of the warmest days of the season. There was, he thought, an air of the early summer of 1830 around them. Young people, heated debates, a lot of movement and activitiy and a somewhat frantic undertone.

He wondered if he should comment this to Adelaide, but decided not to push his luck.

These days had brought them into the same place more than either of them would have wished, and he tried not to shake up their fragile equilibrium too much. At least they were on something that could cautiously be called speaking terms, but he was under no illusions that Adelaide did not do this purely for the benefit of their still shared cause. He was quite sure that, if circumstances were different, she would have spent quite a lot of effort to make sure they avoided each other instead.

Some part of him did not begrudge her that. Some part of him regretted it. But, as she would surely point out if he ever voiced that thought to her, he had only himself to blame.

The Corbeau was a tavern located on the top floor of a two story house, accessible only by a small staircase behind the coal shop that occupied the lower story. The secluded location made it something of a quieter place, although not unknown. It was rather a place one met at, and less of a place one passed by. Adelaide, Courfeyrac thought, had chosen well.

The room was relatively small, dimly lit, but, in line with the mood of the rest of the quarter, well visited by a number of people huddling around the various tables. He caught snippets of discussions as he passed by, following Adelaide to a table in the corner where he could already see the slender, pale form of Charles Jeanne sitting, calmly, looking towards him, three glasses of wine and a caraffe on the table a telltale sign that he was indeed expecting the company.

Courfeyrac took a deep breath and stepped towards the table.

„Good evening, Jeanne", he greeted. Charles, having watched their approach, had gotten up and greeted them with a small, polite bow.

„Courfeyrac", and then, to Adelaide, „Mademoiselle."

They sat around the table, Adelaide, true to her role in this conversation, taking the middle seat. Her face was inscrutable and she was watching both men with wary eyes.

Courfeyrac took a deep breath and offered a smile. Jeanne was clearly cautious and not overly happy with the situation he found himself in. His manners were impeccable as always, but there was not an ounce of friendliness in his demeanour. Courfeyrac gave an internal sigh. It was probably true that he dealt with that sort of situation better than – say – Enjolras, but it was also true that these were the situations he felt most uncomfortable with. Adelaide's forbidding presence did not help

„Thank you for agreeing to meet me here", he began valiantly, none the less, even though he was by no means sure who of them had offered, and who of them had followed. Probably, he thought, at the end of the day they both had followed Adelaide. „And let me begin by again offering my profound thanks for your help at the Corinthe." He felt an almost involuntary twitch in his shoulder. It had been sore since the incident, although Abati's treatment had alleviated most of the damage. „It was invaluable and certainly has saved lives."

Jeanne made a dismissive gesture, half looking like embarrassment, half like displeasure. Almost as if some part of him regretted the deed.

„Do not mention it, Courfeyrac. Whatever has happened between us, this goes way beyound political discourse."

„I'm glad to hear you say that", he answered, feeling a half smile creep upon his features. „That may well be the chapter heading we put over this conversation."

„Is that so?" Charles Jeanne answered. His manner was still reserved, leaning back in his chair. He gave a short gaze to Adelaide, who frowned and had her arms crossed in front of her. For a moment silence between them, but in the end, her voice cut through the thick atmosphere at the table effortlessly.

„Let's not mince words", she suggested. „We all know why we are here, and I am sure if you really try, you find within yourselves enough politeness to exchange pleasantries all night and not agree on anything meaningful in the end." She sighed. „It is quite simple. The Corinthe, the events, the mood in the city... all of that means that the city is tumbling towards another revolution. And if that happens, it would be better if we found each other on the same side of the barricades."

Jeanne snorted.

„There should be no doubts as to where my allegiances lie."

Courfeyrac frowned.

„There are not, I should say. However, I cannot shake the feeling you have doubts about mine. Which is surprising, to say the least."

„Not yours specifically", Jeanne admitted, with some measure of a shrug. „I have never made a secret of my distaste for the... magnitude of upheaval of society that you and yours are favoring. You ask too much. You want too much. For all I can say, you are headed for another terreur. Change needs to be guided and moderated. Mitigated sometimes even. It needs to happen, there is no doubt, but you cannot expect for it all to turn at a snip of a finger. And you cannot expect for it to sort itself out on its own. A red flag is a flag of blood, as you well know, Courfeyrac. And it has brought you some measure of blood already, I should say."

He gave a silent thanks that Adelaide had asked him and not Enjolras to come here. This statement right there would have been the end of that particular conversation. Jeanne was not being fully fair, but he was also not being fully wrong, and wrath would get them nowhere in the end. But as much as Enjolras was dealing in absolutes and was easily offended, Jeanne had a sometimes non productive way of making his point in small pins and very hurtful needles. Courfeyrac bit the inside of his cheeks to quell the anger that also welled up in him.

„I understand that you and us are not fully in line with the ultimate goal of all of our efforts", he said, and allowed himself a rallying sip of the wine in front of him. „But I can safely say, that even just within our own group, we are not all of the same mind. Asking me, you might get a different opinion than Enjolras, Feuilly or Bahorel. You may even find that Combeferre, more or less, sings your song."

He placed the glass back on the table.

„But is this not a conversation that we should be having in a parliament, in a republic? Or in an assembly aiming for a new constitution?"

„That is what we agreed at one time", Jeanne admitted. „To first bring about the measures necessary to even allow change and opportunities for all, and for the democratic process then to sort out the rest."

Courfeyrac nodded.

„That was indeed what we agreed."

A lifetime ago. Before the rift. Once it had become clear that the ideals of Charles Jeanne and Sebastien Enjolras were, to some extent, mutually exclusive and a debate on the relations between the groups had been necessary.

„So", he continued, „what changed?"

„To sort this out in a republic, you need to have a republic", Charles Jeanne explained calmly. „But to have a republic, you need two things. The first is, you need to level the field and allow for a new system to even be established. That is the revolution that we are, as Mademoiselle so aptly stated, spiralling towards. And that will be decided on the battlefield, the barricades, and ultimately, by the people of Paris and the country. That is not what I am worried about. I will not deny you your fighting spirit, nor that of your friends. But the second point is a lot harder to come by. You need to agree on the ground rules."

Courfeyrac frowned.

„And we don't, I assume", he suspected.

„The time right after a revolution", Jeanne said, and he sounded suspiciously like Combeferre as he was explaining himself, „is a very delicate and tender moment. One system was swept away, yes, but what will come in its place? Once a system is established, once we have a republic, or a democracy, then there will be ground rules. If it is well done, then there are checks and balances, like they do on the other side of the atlantic. A system that protects itself from without but also within. But..." he sighed, „after a successful revolution, we have none of that. We have dreams, all of us, and as you admitted, they do not fully agree. And the moment after a revolution is also the perfect moment for a tyrant to show his face."

He took a sip of the wine as well, thoughtfully looking into the swirling red liquid.

„I once thought that we agreed on ground rules at least. But I have found myself in a position where I have become unsure of that."

Courfeyrac sighed.

„Look", he said. „Is this still about the man that you discovered?"

„Partly", Jeanne answered, taking another sip of his drink. „Not solely, though."

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, and bit back a sharp reply, trying for reason instead.

„Please, Jeanne. You can't be serious. After all that had happened, I think what has happened is quite clear. I understand that this whole matter sounded fishy at the time, but now, in the face of all this? Every one of the leading revolutionaries worth their salt have been attacked. We've lost the Virilles in an attack in the light of day. Enjolras, Marius and Jehan have been attacked during a speech at the small market in Saint Michel and only live because of the help of a gamine associated with us but unknown to the attacker. Marcel Devereux is dead. Half of Picpus lies in the sewers under the cemetery. Jacques de Morier is in the Necker battling death, and Alexandre de Cambout was murdered in its sleep and it's a miracle of biblical proportions that his wife is still with us."

„Or perhaps", Jeanne gave back thoughtfully, „this related more to the radical groups."

Courfeyrac suppressed a sigh of frustration.

„Come on, Jeanne, think, and think realistically. The Barriere du Maine and us, sure. The Courgourde as well, and even Saint Antoine, although we all know they were much less outspoken than the rest of us. But Picpus? They were never that radical. And le Globe is Saint Simonian to the core. They are more or less piping your party line much more than ours."

„While printing your leaflets", Jeanne reminded him. „And I am still wondering if I should consider Enfantin 'piping my party line' an insult."

„I didnt come here to insult you, Jeanne", Courfeyrac answered. „And you know very well what I mean. At least do me the honor of leaving petty grievances aside."

Because while Alexandre and Helene herself had not been adverse to the more radical notions of the Amis de l'Abaisse, this had been strictly connected to their printing presses, and not le Globe. It would have been near impossible to bring Rodrigues and Chevalier from the Saint Simonian to a more Jacobine notion. These discrepancies in the level of radicalism existed even within their own group – and had led to endless discussions especially between Enjolras, Marius and Bahorel on the one, and Feuilly and Combeferre on the other side. It had never seemed a real problem.

Charles Jeanne looked into his wine glass and took a thoughtful sip.

„Yes", he admitted finally. „I know what you mean. Still. Why did Enjolras not outright deny the matter?"

Courfeyrac huffed in something akin to frustration.

„Because he's Enjolras. You have seen enough of him to know what I mean. He was insulted, and probably even rightfully so. And he flared up in anger, and, if you forgive me for saying so, the conversation that followed probably did neither of you credit."

Jeanne's mouth twitched, but he did not interrupt Courfeyrac as he continued.

„And if you don't take my word for it that it wasnt us, then at least listen to this: That sort of behaviour is not the man he is. If Enjolras felt so strongly that you were a hazard to his intentions, if he was so convinced that you would need to be stopped, he would not leave the matter to anyone else. And he would not do it in hiding. He would corner you on his own, and shoot you. Probably after explaining why. That is the sort of man he is. And what he asks of others, he first asks of himself. It is unthinkable- truly unthinkeable – that he would send someone to do his dirty work under the cloak of hiding."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and quench his anger.

„Honestly, I think you were just lucky that you found the man before the damage could be done. And I for one am glad, that, unlike Devereux or Virille or Namelle, you are still with us and willing to fight."

He took a deep breath, briefly considering if he should continue, but somehow, he had to make the point and drive the matter home well and in full.

„And please consider the damage this rift between us has already done. Just think for a moment that I may be right. And what could have been prevented if we had exchanged information instead of accusations and insults."

Courfeyrac saw something shift in the face of the man and for a moment he wondered if he had gone too far. But Jeanne pressed his lips together, and, after a long moment's consideration, he nodded.

„That is a gruesome thought", he admitted. For a moment, he let the matter hang between them, silence settling at the table as Courfeyrac became aware of the surrounding noises of the debates around him. He decided to let Jeanne stew on that gruesome thought for a moment, hoping that it would put him in the right frame of mind to continue. He exchanged a quick gaze with Adelaide, who had been silently watching their exchange, and to his surprise, she offered him a quick nod that was almost appreciative.

„All right", Jeanne said, evidently coming to a conclusion. „I will agree that there is some reason to what you say. But what I say still holds true. I do not trust Enjolras' motives, or his actions, in that delicate moment when we lay the new ground rules for the new world we try to found. So." He took a deep breath. „Here is my offer. I will forget this rift between us. I will take your word for it and believe what you say. But I want the guarantee that, in case we are successful and we set down a new constitution, Enjolras has no hand in it. Once the ground rules are set, and they are set well and good, then he can do whatever he pleases and we will do exactly as it was agreed before – take this matter to the people and the parliament and let it all sort it out."

Courfeyrac huffed as he processed what Jeanne was proposing. „You are indicating that..:"

„I am not indicating", Jeanne said, and his voice carried a hard edge, „I am requesting. But since I know what I am asking, and since fair is fair, my offer does not stop there. I cannot ask of Enjolras what I cannot ask of myself, so I will abide by the same rules. I will not involve myself in the laying of rules as well. Instead, each of us will chose one of the ranks of the other to take part in this, come a successful revolution. I will suggest one of you, and he may suggest one of mine."

Courfeyrac frowned.

„I don't think he will agree to that", he slowly said.

„That is a pity then", Jeanne said. „And here comes the point where I would like to see things from my side, Courfeyrac. The offer is fair. I am not asking anything from him I am not willing to do myself. It is a price to be paid only in case we are being successful, and it takes into account that I believe your tale in full. The leap of faith is mine, the risk is all mine, I pay all of my debts upfront. And, if we are all honest men here, as I hope we are, then I may have won us a better chance at a competition."

„I see", Courfeyrac answered, because on some level, he did. „But what if he wouldn't adhere to the agreement afterwards?"

„Then, Monsieur Courfeyrac", Jeanne answered, „I suspect we will both see a very different side of each other. But, in all honesty, I agree with your assessment, and I am willing to follow your line of argument that Enjolras is a man of his word if he gives it."

Courfeyrac raised a brow, as slowly, the points were connecting for him.

„I see", he said. „So you are gambling, and using this to put you in a better position afterwards, in case you are right. That's your way of protecting the revolution from Enjolras and Enjolras from himself. That is... clever."

Jeanne smiled softly and Courfeyrac knew he was right. The man had is own brand of deviousness.

„Remember, I am crippling myself as much as him. But I will give you that you are smart and possess a good combination of heart and brain indeed. Which is why I would suggest you for that discussion to come. If Enjolras agrees to the way forward I just proposed, my choice will be you."

For a moment, silence settled like a hammer and Courfeyrac stared at him incredulously, but Jeanne held his gaze unwavering and he had to come to the conclusion he meant what he said. And therefore he spared both of them the exchange on how he might not be serious, and yes, he so very much was.

There was a reason why Enjolras was the leader. Courfeyrac had always enjoyed hiding behind him – doing damage control together with Combeferre, yes, but taking center stage only in fun, seldom in seriousness. He never had had the intention of stepping out of that very comfortable shadow. It felt muhc too serious for him, and way too much responsibility.

But he also understood that Jeanne had given his conditions, and had stepped as far as he were willing to go.

„Blimey", he finally said, resigned. „I'm hating this whole matter already."