DISCLAIMER: I do not own Victor Hugo's characters, or anything that was originally in the novel "Les Miserables". Nor do I own any of the historical personages who make necessary cameos, such as Louis-Philippe. However I do own some of the minor original characters who appear here, such as the grisettes and some students. No profit is intended in the writing of this historical-literary experiment.

Author's note: This is technically a rewrite of that infamously long fic "A Thenardier's Redemption". So expect a lot of things to go differently. I just figured that this format would be easier to follow than the blog format. Thanks especially to Talinxship for encouraging me to post this here.

Chapter 1: June 7, 1832

Within forty-eight hours of the funeral of General Lamarque, the fighting had moved a good way from Les Halles. As the men from the students' barricade rendezvoused with other detachments from Saint Merry and elsewhere in the city, similar meetings were occurring all throughout the city. On the morning of the seventh of June, the Tuileries had fallen, along with the Marais, and the Hotel de Ville, Palais Royal and the Palais de Justice were surrounded by contingents from Paris and its suburbs.

On the Rue de la Chanvrerie, a few men remained, mainly to tend to the wounded many of whom simply passed through en route or coming from the fights. Among the beneficent ones was a harried looking young doctor, who walked about with his shirtsleeves rolled up as he checked on the two wounded who were lingering on mattresses inside the much riddled bistro known as Corinth.

Combeferre bit his lip as he contemplated the last vial of laudanum left with him from a fellow former intern who had joined the fighting. "I'll have to decide later which of them will need it more," he said to himself as he set down the laudanum and wiped at his spectacles. The two patients left in his care had both sustained rather painful wounds, and it was likely that at least one of them would have to be sedated in order to spare them some of the necessary suffering and inconvenience when the time came to move them out of the barricade.

As he began packing up lint, bandages and other paraphernalia into a bag, he heard a step in the doorway of the bistro. "It's just them left, Combeferre?" a familiar voice greeted.

Combeferre turned around and nodded. "Where did you come from, Enjolras?" he asked, relief and concern tingeing his calm tone.

"The Palais de Justice. I thought I'd take a detour on the way to the Hotel de Ville," the younger man answered as he propped up his carbine against the wall. His blonde hair was in disarray and his clothes were covered with grime and stained with blood on the sleeves.

"You've come just in time. I need to get these two to where someone can care for them," Combeferre said as he took off his bloodstained apron.

"The hospitals are overflowing," Enjolras noted as he placed some more bandages into the bag. He spoke softly, as if taking unconscious heed to leave the wounded undisturbed with the news. "Either that, or there's fighting in those vicinities."

"Even at the Necker?"

"Word has it that they have to put patients on the floor there, since there has been fighting near the barracks."

Combeferre bit his lip and looked at the vial of laudanum. "We can bring Pontmercy to the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. His pocketbook has the address of his grandfather," he suggested, indicating the small notebook he had taken out of Marius' pocket when binding up the latter's injuries.

"Why not bring him to Courfeyrac's room?" Enjolras asked.

"I don't think his concierge would relish the disturbance. Besides, Pontmercy needs constant care for that arm of his. At least he wasn't concussed from his falling off the barricade," Combeferre answered.

Enjolras winced momentarily at the recollection of the last major cannonry attack on the barricade, which had blown away the flag and knocked quite a few defenders from their posts. Unfortunately for Marius, he had fallen in such a way that he had landed against a pile of paving stones, which had been saved as extra fortification for the barricade. "And it took all the daring of Courfeyrac and Gavroche to replace the flag,"he thought.

"Courfeyrac was with Feuilly and some workingmen at Picpus, last I heard" Enjolras said after a moment. "Well if Pontmercy is in a bad way, then it is off to the Marais for him then. He'll be safe there, for certain."

"The girl though…" Combeferre said, trailing off. "I was thinking of bringing her to the Marais too, unless she has some family who can care for her."

Enjolras shook his head as he went to take a look at the two patients. On one, Marius lay totally insensible, murmuring in his dreams and shifting against the pain that was surely searing his injuries. His head was bandaged as well as his arm. On the other mattress was a girl dressed in what apparently had been the clothes of a workingman. Her shirt was torn where a bullet had hit her in the side, and as well in her left hand. Her breathing was shallow and her dirty hair was matted with sweat.

"Pontmercy and Courfeyrac know her?" Enjolras inquired.

"Courfeyrac merely saw her when we marched here, but mistook her for a boy. Pontmercy though said that they were neighbors, when he lived in the Gorbeau tenement. Her family's all in jail though, except for her brother, who was here at the barricade. He's a gamin."

"You mean Gavroche? The boy who got the spy's musket?"

"Yes, that one. He told me that his sister's name is Eponine."

Before Enjolras could say anything more to this, another figure had entered the bistro. Combeferre recognized him first. "Citizen Fauchelevent?" the doctor asked by way of clarification.

"You can call me that," the white-haired newcomer replied.

"Most of the men are fighting elsewhere now. What have you come here for?" Enjolras asked. The last time he had seen the man had been the day before, when he had been given the assignment of sending out the police spy named Javert, and turning him over to the other Republican forces.

"For him," Citizen Fauchelevent answered, indicating Marius with a gesture.

"Are you a relative of his?" Combeferre pressed on.

"A friend," the older man said.

Combeferre handed the pocketbook to Citizen Fauchelevent, indicating the address that Marius had scribbled. "He has to be brought here," he said.

Citizen Fauchelevent nodded by way of understanding. His astute, almost paternal eye traveled from Marius, who was beginning to stir, to Eponine, who was now apparently awake and watching them intently. Whether he recognized the girl, it was difficult to tell. "I understand you are vacating this place?" he said.

"Since the need is elsewhere now," Enjolras replied.

Citizen Fauchelevent paused, as if considering something. "My daughter is at home now. You can bring the girl there, where she will be cared for," he said.

At this, Combeferre visibly sighed in relief while Enjolras nodded. "Once again, you have our thanks, Citizen," Enjolras said.

"The address is 7, Rue de l'Homme Arme," Citizen Fauchelevent instructed. He tore out a page from the pocketbook, wrote something and handed it to Combeferre. "Give that to my daughter—it will explain all. As to getting there, no matter; there are fiacres still plying this way."

"One more thing," Combeferre said before Citizen Fauchelevent could move Marius. He opened the vial of laudanum and tipped half of its contents between Marius' lips. He capped the vial while Citizen Fauchelevent picked up Marius with as much as ease as if he was carrying a child.

"Tell my daughter that I will be back at home soon," Citizen Fauchelevent said before leaving the bistro, walking slowly so as not to jostle the wounded man too much.

Enjolras and Combeferre glanced at each other. "Now I know you will want to go to the Hotel de Ville immediately," Combeferre said knowingly.

"I'll bring the news right away," Enjolras said, touching Combeferre's shoulder.

"Unless I find you and the others immediately after," Combeferre said optimistically. He picked up his pistols, which he had set aside earlier in the day, and stuck them into his belt before getting the small bag of bandages.

"What happened to your musket?" Enjolras asked as he picked up his carbine.

"I had to break it over the head of a robber that was passing through here," Combeferre replied. He cast a cautious glance at Eponine. "Careful when you lift her, Enjolras. That wound by her ribs needed a bit of stitching."

Wordlessly, Enjolras handed his carbine to Combeferre before going over to the last occupied mattress on the floor. As best as he could, he scooped up the girl, who whimpered at the sudden movement.

"Where's Monsieur Marius?" she asked in a raspy voice. "Where did that man bring him?"

"To his grandfather's," Enjolras answered as he adjusted his hold on her so that she was more comfortable.

Eponine took a deeper breath and winced as her hand involuntarily went to her injured side. "Where's my brother?" she asked.

"He went with some of the others last night to join the forces near the Seine," Enjolras replied.

"That silly boy! Isn't he afraid he's going to get shot? Oh, and I know that gentleman who came in," Eponine rambled on. "His daughter is that lady Monsieur Marius spends his nights with."

"Don't speak anymore. You need to save your strength," Combeferre said firmly as they made their way out of the wine shop.

Eponine's glazed eyes looked Enjolras in the face and an odd smile crooked her lips. "Is your hair really like that, M'sieur?" she asked in a dazed tone.

"On some days," Enjolras replied diffidently. "Quiet now. You heard what the doctor said."

"It hurts at any rate," Eponine whispered as she shut her eyes and clutched at Enjolras' cravat as a spasm of pain coursed through her.

Enjolras glanced towards the end of the street, where Combeferre had managed to flag down a fiacre. He nodded on seeing that the driver was wearing a red bonnet. "Citizen, please bring them to the Rue del'Homme Arme," he said cordially.

The driver looked at the wounded girl that Enjolras was carrying. "Got a bad case of lice, that one. The Guard's lost now with women fighting too at the barricades," he said wryly.

Enjolras smiled wryly. "If only that were the case with her," he said in an undertone as Combeferre helped him carry Eponine into the fiacre.