Oh lawd Jesus. How long has it been? Four weeks? Maybe five? All I can say is that if you are a reader who is bearing with me and actually still reading and reviewing, you are the bomb diggity.

Seriously, though, you guys are just great. The response to this story thus far has blown me away, and it truly makes me so, so happy. Thank you. I love this fandom with all my heart, which is why I am updating this at four in the morning. Yeah.

Before you read: Be aware that there is a time jump of several months between Chapter 3 and this chapter. Just to avoid confusion and stuff.

Enjoy, lovelies. Chapter 4 is here.

I was late yet again. For the third time that week, to be exact.

And I knew that no matter how silently or stealthily I slipped through the door and up the stairs of the Musain, no matter how carefully I tried to conceal myself behind the larger silhouette of another, one certain golden-tongued, blue-eyed radical would be sure to notice.

In the two or so months that I had come to know the men dubbed Les Amis de l'ABC, I had learned two very important things. One, the legitimate, more confidential meetings were held on the second story of the Café Musain. Unlike those held downstairs in which Enjolras would speak openly to the general public, these meetings consisted of the real action - at least, what a group of bourgeois schoolboys would consider "real action".

Two, if one was so privileged to be invited to frequent these oh-so-secretive gatherings, one had to be sure to avoid a tardy arrival at all costs for fear of facing the wrath of the leader of said gatherings.

Unfortunately, I was becoming rather good at violating that code.

I was actually later than even I expected to be. By the time I ascended the stairwell to behold Les Amis, they had already dissolved into their own private conversations, producing a collective murmur across the room. The occasional drunken laugh echoed above the buzz. I had missed the formal meeting in its entirety.

"Éponine!"

My gaze followed the voice that had suddenly called out to me and was met with the gentle smile of Jean Prouvaire. I could not help allowing a corner of my mouth to curl upward in return.

In a word, Jehan was docile, kind to men and women alike. I had quickly learned that he was a remarkably nonjudgmental creature, seeing even me, a girl commonly considered filthy and poor in stature, as his equal from the moment of our first meeting. This intrigued me and was perhaps the reason I had dubbed Jehan my favorite of Les Amis.

Well, I should say a favorite. My true favorite possessed auburn hair and an adorable smattering of facial freckles, two features the gentle Jehan lacked.

I took a few tentative steps toward him, the worn floorboards creaking beneath my feet. Even after months of being around these bourgeoisie on an almost daily basis, I could not shake the feeling that I would forever be awkward and out of place around them. "How are you, Prouvaire?"

He stood to greet me properly, a true gentleman. "I am well if you are, Éponine," he said jovially. "What has kept you so long this evening?"

If it were anyone but him, I would have rolled my eyes at this overly pleasant speech to me. But it was Jehan and such was his nature, so I only waved my hand dismissively. "Oh, just my absent mind, Monsieur. I am afraid I lost track of time yet again."

He grinned at me in understanding, settling back into his seat. "I know the feeling well, Mademoiselle. 'Time! on whose arbitrary wing the varying hours must flag or fly.'*"

I chuckled at his verbal theatrics. "Another of your pretty poets?"

"Oh, hardly!" he said with a chuckle of his own. "Lord Byron had a rather nasty club foot, you know. I do not believe there was anything pretty about him."

I shook my head with a grin. Jean Prouvaire was truly one of a kind.

I stepped away from his table then to survey the room before me, my eyes actively roving about in search of the primary reason for my attendance. A frown began to tug at my lips when I found him seemingly absent from both the candlelit oak tables and the bar toward the back of the room.

"Marius is not here, Mademoiselle."

I turned back to Jehan. "Excuse you, Monsieur?" I asked, my tone sounding a bit more irritated than I intended.

Jehan was unoffended by my annoyance, only smiling at me sympathetically. I would have rather he been offended. I hated sympathy. "Just in case you were wondering."

I considered snapping at him but thought better of it. Jehan meant no harm, and with a sensitivity seldom found in any other man, it should have been no wonder to me that he sensed my care for Marius. I only worried that he did not consider my feelings confidential.

So I gave him a curt nod, secretly appreciative of the information he provided me. Feeling my heart slowly sinking to my stomach, I turned to go with a sigh. There was no further reason for my presence.

I had almost retraced my steps to the stairs when I was suddenly caught around the middle. The breath was knocked from me and I staggered back as a greasy mop of dark hair took over my view.

"'PONINE!"

I managed a breathless laugh, placing an arm around the boy who had wound himself tightly around my waist. "Gavroche. What are you up to, monkey?" I asked, using the nickname Azelma and I had given him.

I suppose my visits to the Musain had at least one additional perk besides Marius: my brother. Gavroche had been absent from my life for months at a time after he extracted himself from the Thénardier household. To be allowed to see him alive and well on a regular basis was more of a gift than I could express, no matter what environment in which our encounters took place.

Gavroche released me with a grin. "Do you ever think I am getting a little old to be a monkey?"

"My brother, you are practically an ape!" I said playfully. Forgetting my intended departure, I pulled him out of the way of the stairwell and sat on a vacant bench against the wall. I held him by his shoulders before me. "What have you done with yourself lately? I have not seen you in over a week. Too good for your old sister now, are you?"

Gavroche smirked at me, and I had a vague thought of how handsome a boy he was underneath the sweat and grime that marred his skin. "I should be asking you that question!" His voice was light, but I knew him well enough to sense an undertone of distress. It was in the way he looked toward the floor, fingering the fabric of my dress at my knee thoughtfully. "Where have you been, 'Ponine? I am here more often than you are."

It was easy for me to forget that I was not the only sibling in our relationship to worry for the other.

My eyes softened and I reached out to stroke the hair from his face. "Oh, you know how it is, 'Roche." I lifted a corner of my mouth in a crooked smile, trying to brighten his mood despite my own taking a downward turn. "Pére has just kept me unusually busy lately. That is all."

Gavroche was unconvinced. "Busy with what?" he demanded, brow furrowed. He had no idea of how his innocent question caused my heart to plummet.

My hand stilled on his face, and I was momentarily at a loss for words. I disliked lying to my brother, but how was I to tell him what my latest business entailed? How could I explain to him what our father had forced me into only a week prior, the shameful occupation that was now robbing me of my time, that caused me to loathe myself to the point of screaming? What would he think of me should he find out that his sister had become a wh-

I dashed these thoughts from my head when I noticed a prickling sensation growing at the corners of my eyes. I blinked rapidly, willing myself to be composed. I plastered a grin to my face.

"Only the usual, Gavroche. Trust me, all is well."

I wanted to sob at how the bruises on my thighs burned as I told him this blatant lie, but I forced myself to ignore my shame. It was the only way to retain normalcy, and Gavroche deserved at least that.

He still appeared uncertain, but nodded for my sake. "If you say so. But," he continued, puffing up his chest and lifting his chin, "if Pére or Montparnasse or anybody hurts you, I swear I will-"

A hand suddenly came down on Gavroche's shoulder, halting his verbal tirade before it could begin.

"Feeling spirited today, are we, Gavroche?"

My brother and I lifted our eyes to behold Courfeyrac, a mirthful gleam in his brown eyes.

Gavroche's solemn expression suddenly turned to one of delight, and he grasped the hand on his shoulder in excitement. "Courf!"

I smirked as well. While most of Les Amis seemed to hold Enjolras in the highest esteem, Gavroche's favor rested with Courfeyrac. He positively adored him. A Greek god could not be as honored by his people as Courfeyrac was by my brother. Despite my efforts to look after Gavroche single-handedly, Courfeyrac played the role of his sole provider and caretaker, a favor I could never repay but for which I would be eternally grateful.

Of course, Courfeyrac was just as fond of Gavroche as Gavroche was of him. He was the brother he never had.

"Éponine, Gavroche," he greeted each of us with a grin. "What has you so excited this evening?"

Gavroche placed his hands on his little hips, eyeing me as he said, "Oh, nothing. Just keeping my sister in line." I raised a brow at him challengingly, but he only continued, "She gets a little wily every now and then, you know?"

I scoffed but could not conceal my mirth. My brother had almost as much sass as my sister and I. I would be lying to say that I was not proud.

Courfeyrac crossed his arms, eyeing me in mock austerity as well. "I know it. Interrupting meetings with her untimely entrance is a regular crime of hers. I am surprised she has not yet been smote by our great leader," he joked.

I snorted. "I suspect he wishes to. Speaking of whom, what are you all up to this evening? I saw you working very intently with him and Combeferre when I walked in."

Courfeyrac motioned back toward his table with a flourish. "Why, we were only speaking of how our company lacked a certain dark-haired girl and a munchkin."

I snickered, and Gavroche let out an indignant "Excuse you!"

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Well, I cannot stay long. As a matter of fact, I was just leaving, but..." I faltered here.

"Yes?" Courfeyrac asked expectantly.

I chewed my lip for a moment. I dreaded asking for help from anyone, especially the privileged boys of Les Amis, but necessity called, and it was not my first time imploring Courfeyrac for his assistance. I tried not to sound pleading. "Courfeyrac, would you mind-"

"Taking the little gremlin off your hands? Allowing him to hole up in my flat for a while, maybe have a few meals?"

I grinned sheepishly, but I was immensely thankful. My relationship with Les Amis had reached the point that I did not even have to ask, and my brother would be well taken care of.

"You are a saint, Courfeyrac," I said truthfully. "Really."

Courfeyrac waved off my praise. "I would have taken the animal home anyway. Do not mention it."

I laughed aloud. Gavroche was by then playfully scaling Courfeyrac's back to reach his shoulders, carefree as a bird. My shoulders suddenly felt worlds lighter.

"You are a brave man to take that into your home. He bites, you know," I warned.

Courfeyrac grinned in response, reaching behind his head to grasp Gavroche's wrists in order to steady him. "Oh, I know. I found that out weeks ago." He shifted my brother's weight onto his back before continuing in a less joking voice. "But really, 'Ponine, if you must go so soon, I suggest you greet Enjolras. He should know that you at least went through the trouble to be here. He was asking after you earlier."

I fiddled with a loose thread on my sleeve, turning it between my fingers as I glanced at the man from the corner of my eye. "Was he now?"

Courfeyrac nodded. "I cannot say he was overjoyed to learn of your absence. You know how he loves a full audience."

"Of course he does." I sighed and stood from my seat. "Alright then. I suppose it is better to face the gauntlet sooner than later."

"Good choice," Courfeyrac commended as he finally allowed Gavroche to slide to the floor with a cackle. "And the hour is later than I expected. I suppose I ought to be getting this one out of here before the real drunks file in."

Gavroche looked up at him indignantly. "I am not an infant! I have seen drunks before!"

Courfeyrac covered his little mouth with a smirk. He nodded toward me. "Until next time, 'Ponine."

I nodded back. "Yes. And thank you again." I snorted at Gavroche's expression behind his hand and knelt down to his level. "You be good, alright?"

Gavroche pried Courfeyrac's hand from his mouth. "Apes are not meant to behave, woman!"

Courfeyrac shook his head at the pair of us and began to drag my brother to the stairs. "Come along, ape. Out to the jungle with you..."

Gavroche grinned back at me one last time before disappearing down the stairwell. It took me a few moments to realize that I was grinning as well. I shook the expression from my face.

With the absence of my brother I felt the sudden weight of weariness settling in. I wished I could follow Courfeyrac and Gavroche down the stairs and out the door and walk all the way back to where my straw mat and my sister awaited me in Montmartre, but Courfeyrac was right. For fear of possible banishment from future meetings (more importantly, banishment from Marius and Gavroche), I would first have to address the firebrand.

I looked over to where he sat. He remained as he had been before, leaned intently over a piece of parchment with Combeferre at his side. His table stood adjacent to the bar, where I was unsurprised to sight Grantaire hopelessly attempting to entice the barmaid, a half-empty bottle standing forgotten beside him.

I smirked as I sauntered toward him, smoothly swiping the bottle from his person and settling into a chair beside Enjolras all in one motion.

I slid the bottle right in front of his nose. "A peace offering, Monsieur. I apologize for my most untimely arrival," I announced formally. My mouth itched to snicker at his expression. Of course I knew Enjolras did not drink and would think me ridiculous, but if I were to apologize, I would at least find some enjoyment in it.

And tormenting Enjolras was an activity I had come to find consistently enjoyable.

I was not the only one to find the situation humorous. Combeferre eyed me with a smirk as he emitted a cough that sounded suspiciously similar to a chuckle.

As expected, Enjolras was not nearly as amused. He sniffed distastefully at the beverage I had pushed between him and his parchment and peered at me from beneath disapproving brows. "You were-"

"Late. Yes, yes, I know," I said with a roll of my eyes. I smirked at him and pushed the bottle closer. "Hence, my offering. I accept your thanks."

Enjolras pulled the bottle from my hands, decidedly setting it to the side and out of my reach. "Even if I did make it a practice to consume such a repulsive substance, would you really deem the presence of a person replaceable by that of an alcoholic beverage?"

I shrugged casually with a quirk of my mouth. "It has sufficed for me before."

I did not really make a practice of consuming alcohol either. After seeing its effects present in my father's lowest moments, I could hardly bring myself to even smell the stuff. I merely wished to gauge Enjolras's reaction. As tedious as his disapproval was, rousing him was twice as entertaining.

"Éponine." It was a warning.

I did not heed it. "Enjolras." It had not taken long for me to learn to disregard formalities with this man.

Enjolras sighed, rubbing his jaw tiredly. Combeferre saw this sign of exasperation and took it as his queue to leave us be. The hour was late anyhow, he nodded to the both of us before departing.

I could not blame him. Every member of Les Amis knew by then that I could push Enjolras to the point of explosiveness, a feat apparently thought impossible until I made his acquaintance.

"Éponine," he started tiredly. "You do not have to attend these meetings."

... What?

My smirk finally faltered. That was not the response I had wanted. "Enjolras, I said I was sorry."

"I know."

I momentarily struggled for words. He was serious. Was he banning me from the meetings? No. No, he could not. I altered my expression to match his, showing him that I was serious as well. "I truly am, Enjolras. I want to be here."

"Why? For Marius?"

I was not sure what startled me more - the venom in his voice or his frankness about Marius. I was silent.

He broke our gaze and massaged his temple, as if a headache were suddenly impairing his ability to think. "If you are here merely to see Pontmercy, I would appreciate if you did that elsewhere. I am trying to make a difference here, Éponine. A new France. When I spoke with you that second night you were here, I thought you were as well. That is why I invited you to attend these meetings. If your ulterior motive to attend is your only motive, however, I would prefer that you not attend at all."

I gaped not unlike a fish. Enjolras and I had bickered before, gotten into the most heated of arguments, and even in the midst of those I held the impression that we both possessed a mutual respect for one another. I thought it was respect that allowed us to resume normalcy after our rows, that allowed me to continue attending his meetings and entitled him to my honest opinions. Was that respect just a figment of my imagination?

A thousand emotions swirled inside of me, and I was unsure of which to express. Surprise at his sudden animosity, embarrassment that my affections were not confidential, shame that they had driven me to superficiality, disappointment in Enjolras's disappointment, anger at his nerve to ban me from the Musain, from Les Amis, from Marius...

As always, anger dominated.

I balled my fists in my lap. "Enjolras," I said sharply. I did not continue until his eyes rose to meet mine. "Is that what you think of me? That I am just a stray dog that Marius drags in behind him?"

Now Enjolras looked shocked. "Éponine, no. No, I would never-"

"Then what?" I asked, ice lacing my every word. "Am I not good enough? My dirt and rags did not bother you at first, but now that I have decided to frequent your precious meetings, it is not so-"

"Éponine, enough."

Gifted as he was, his voice was strong despite its softness, and I clicked my mouth shut in spite of myself. I had not raised my voice for fear of making a scene, but when had my pulse so accelerated? I struggled not to breathe heavily.

Enjolras sighed heavily. His eyes seemed to search mine, piercing them with their intensity. I looked down. "I did not know it meant so much to you. I assumed..." He stopped, and if he were not a man of stone, I would have sworn I heard his breath catch in his throat.

I froze. His hand was on my face.

"Éponine."

His thumb brushed my cheek, and I was horrified to glimpse the glistening of a tear on it.

I pulled away violently, wiping at my eyes in frustration and anger.

"Merde."

And I was out of the building, running away from Enjolras, away from Les Amis, away from everything, and back toward Montmartre before a single rational thought could cross my mind.

Where the hell did those tears even come from?

Maybe I was hormonal. Maybe I allowed my insecurities to finally overcome me. Perhaps I was overreacting. Perhaps I had just held on for too long, bottled up every hurt, every feeling with no regard for my emotional capacity until it was finally exceeded and now I was broken.

Perhaps, I dared to think spitefully, you care more about what they think of you, of what Enjolras thinks of you, than you care to admit.

But even in my sorry state I was sure of one thing.

I had been pretending. In reality, I had no money, no functioning family, no romantic love, and now not even my virginity to speak of, and I had gone about the Café Musain as if I were accepted for that, as if I had the world to gain.

And I would not make that mistake again.

Chapter 4 Word Count: 3,438

I actually meant to make this one longer, but I had to face the fact that it was either get it up now as is or wait another few weeks. I chose the former. Not to worry, the next chapter will bring what I could not include here.

Drop a review please! Comments and criticism alike are always welcome. And recs. I love me some recs.