-Chapter 13-

Author Note: I decided to put the author note at the beginning of the chapter because some advance information may be in need.

At the time Les Misérables is set there were not only revolts in Paris, but also in Lyon. Lyon was famous for its silk workings and fabrics, but the silk workers (called Canuts) were suffering under extremely poor working conditions, which were unbearable. That is why Lyon was shaken by worker uprisings (called Canut revolts) since 1831. The uprisings were, just as the ones in Les Misérables, suppressed by the National Guard and ended pretty bloody. Just as in Paris the tricolour was the emblem of revolution.

These historical events will be important considering Geneviève's life.

To Audrey: Thank you so much for your review! I was very happy to read that you like the story so much! Thank you also for correcting my spelling mistake (: I don't speak French, which is why I always mix the accents up (: I hope that you like the story's development! Once again thank you for taking the time to review! It means a lot to me!

Enjoy reading and please review!

Enjolras woke up early this Saturday morning. A look through the window told him that it had snowed nonstop during the night. Gladly it had now stopped and only some lost snowflakes whirled against the glass of his window.

He was about to stand up and light a fire in the chimney when he heard noise from out of the bathroom. For a second his instincts sent adrenalin through his veins and told him to grab his pistol to defend himself against anyone who had broken into his flat… Until his commemoration kicked in and reminded him of the past evening and his sister's surprising arrival.

Breathing in deeply to calm himself down, he shook his head disbelievingly. It felt so unaccustomed to have someone staying at his flat, he wasn't used to living with others anymore. It was the same feeling he had had when Éponine was at his flat after the attack. It felt good and bad at once, on the one hand a feeling of not being alone, on the other hand the feeling of giving up his privacy. Running his hand through his hair he decided that it was better to get dressed.

When he entered the room Geneviève was sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper in her hands. She didn't seem to notice him because she was absorbed in whatever article she read. He could tell this because she bit her lower lip, he smiled at how familiar her body-language still was to him. The only thing that had changed was that she had grown-up.

"Since when do you wear gloves indoors?" he asked sitting down across from her examining his little sister's appearance. Her eyes shot up from the newspaper and found his. And there it was: the observant look, which had already caught his attention yesterday evening, when she told him about her reasons to visit. She still had slight dark circles und her eyes and the fact that she wore black made her a bit paler than he knew her. She usually wore intensive colours like crimson or a dark shade of purple. Black made her look more elegant and grown up, but she also seemed sad. Something his sister had never really been. Yes, sometimes a bit dramatic, but he could only recall a few times that he had seen Gen truly sad.

"So I guess this is how people say 'good morning' in Paris?" she answered with the same untroubled laugh that had fooled everyone yesterday evening. Everyone except him. She might be damn good at hiding something, but he knew when something was going on. When she was nervous she was always blinking more often than usually.

"No, actually this is how I react to your new style" he said and looked at her with a smile.

"And this," she pointed at her gloves "is how I react to your cold flat because you're the only person in Paris, who doesn't use his chimneys in winter!"

"I see you haven't lost your wit" he said ironically while taking the newspaper from her hands to see what she had been reading. The article's headline read:

„Vivre en travaillant, ou mourir en combattant …" Live free working or die fighting! Lyon: Canut Revolts continue!

He frowned and sighed. "This isn't the first article. Since the first revolt in October 1831 the newspapers pay attention to it."

"They don't pay attention to the revolts! They pay attention to all the small-minded and ivory-towered Parisian noble women, who are upset because their new dresses aren't delivered at the time appointed! This is madness!" Gen muttered with her eyes fixed on the headline.

"Yes, but this is how journalism works these days. It is controlled by the government and one-sided. Only a few small newspapers are truly unprejudiced and impartial."

"In Lyon the newspapers avoid the theme. They just ignore it. Ignoring problems is what they do best! The Canuts and generally all workers in Lyon are suffering under the working- and living conditions in the working-class-neighbourhood! And I don't even have to mention the poor employee's wages!"she gabbled on and on and looked desperate, while she was trying to find words for the daily suffering in Lyon.

"I didn't know that you were so affected by the situation." Enjolras sighed.

"Some of my friends were Canuts or silk workers. I visit the working-class-neighbourhood very often, because of fabrics and stuff…" Enjolras didn't have to look her in the eyes to know that they were glassy. For a second she reminded him of the nine year old, little girl, which was sent to boarding school against her will and tried to hold back the tears because she didn't want to cry in front of him. But the next second Gen stood up and cleared her throat.

"I should be going, Cosette invited me for breakfast at a café. She wants to talk about the difference between Lyon's and Paris' fashion style" she said while putting on her coat.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows faking enthusiasm "Oh, sounds … interesting.".

"It won't be that bad. She seems to be a nice girl, a bit naïve, but nice. Besides Éponine will be joining us too. I think she can handle Cosette if she gets too excited about clothes and fashion."

Enjolras nearly spilled his Coffee at the mention of Éponine's name. "Is she? Really? Did Cosette force her to come or did she accept the invitation voluntary."

"I don't think Éponine is the kind of woman that lets herself be forced into anything. Why?" Gen asked casually while taking her purse.

"You're probably right. So what do girls talk about when you have breakfast together?" he asked. He knew that Éponine would never tell anybody about their complicated relationship, but the thought of his little sister befriending with his… Yes, there it was again. What was Éponine to him? At first he wanted to say 'love-interest', but in his mind it sounded so odd. Was the feeling he felt when she looked at him really love? He didn't know, all he knew was that every time she was with him, he lost the one thing he had always been proud of. He lost his ability to think strictly, factual and emotionless…

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable and looked up only to find Gen looking at him with concern written over her face.

"Should I be worried?"

"Worried about what?" he asked startled.

"Worried about you showing interest in women's stuff…" Gen said and he suddenly he felt caught with those watchful green eyes examining him as if he was a ghost.

"The things you do for your sister…" he said and tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

"Clever answer!" the fact that she repeated his answer from just now just showed him that his sister was as good at reading his body language as he was reading hers. She knew that something was going on with him, but just like him, she didn't bring it up directly.

Waving to him one last time she left the flat leaving it lifeless and silent as it was before she had arrived.

XxXxXx

"So this is where they got the cockades! I always wondered how they got them!" Éponine commented. It was truly a mystery she had never been able to solve. Often had she wondered where the little symbols of revolution were made, because in Paris even the slightest indication for supporting the revolution was a reason to get arrested.

"Yes, that was the idea! The King only thinks small, he thinks that revolution is limited to the particular cities. But it is not, it spreads over the whole country because no matter where you are, it's always the same who suffer: The people! And people have contacts and with time they connect. The regime can't put two and two together that's why they never gave consideration to an extraneous source; that's why they never considered the cockades to be made in Lyon and sent to Paris." Geneviève finished and Éponine looked down on the small piece of fabric, which she had pinned to the border of her sleeve so that it looked like a corsage at her wrist.

The three girls were sitting at a table in a small pavement café as the clock stroke 10 o'clock.

"Oh! I see they got you one too! May I?" Gen asked and Éponine gave her the cockade. Since the day Enjolras had given it to her she had always worn it. Against her will she knew that it felt comforting to have something of his with her.

Examining the cockade Gen suddenly hesitated. If Cosette and Éponine had already been closer to her at the time, they would have noticed the small and surprised smile lightening up her eyes.

"Yes, definitely one of mine…" she said and handed it back to Éponine.

"If I had known that Enjolras' sister was a seamstress, I would have come to you to let you tailor my wedding dress!" Cosette interrupted and against Éponine's and Gen`s will the conversation turned back to cursory subjects until Marius came by half an hour later to pick Cosette up because they started preparing things for Christmas Eve.

Éponine had the apprehension that the couple's house would look like a Christmas market when the festive day would finally come.

"Don't get me wrong, but is she always like this?" Gen asked. "You know, like a little excited, fluttering canary bird?"

Éponine snorted due to the comparison which, if you truly thought about it, applied to Cosette. "It's become worse because of all the Christmas stress, but yes… She is always like this. Marius and her want to throw the perfect dinner party for Christmas and now they are both talking about nothing else and I don't know if it's rather cute or annoying."

XxXxXx

19th of December 1832 Lyon

Dear Monsieur Enjolras,

At first I want you to know that my reason for writing this letter is nothing else but my wife's peace of mind. She has been very troubled after Geneviève's sudden departure and both, me and my wife would have expected a more adult behaviour from a nineteen year old girl instead of leaving with a cloak-and-dagger operation by night without even leaving a letter. I guess disappointment cannot even describe my wife's feelings. We haven't heard anything from your sister since she left and also her emporium is closed since then. We do not know where she went and I am personally also not interested in her whereabouts. It was humiliation enough to pick her up at the prison after the interrogation, I don't want my family to fall in disgrace because of your sister's criminal behaviour.

Monsieur, all decisions I made were made for your sister's own good but her ingratitude showed me that your parents were right about her bad morals and misbehaviour.

All those years my wife thought that she had changed the girl to a fine, civilised, woman but sometimes even constant efforts don't always bear fruits.

Yours sincerely

Emilian Dupont

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Enjolras received the letter on which he now looked down. None of the feelings he felt, stayed long enough to overwhelm him. Disbelief, anger, concern, hurt… But in the end curiosity won the fight closely followed by anger. He had known that something was wrong with Geneviève and here was the proof.

Within seconds he was out on the streets heading to search for his sister when he suddenly realised that he had no idea where to look for her. It was late after breakfast time and even if it was still morning he had no idea where the three women would have met.

So, there was only one place to go…

Had the situation not been so bad, Enjolras would have laughed at Éponine's surprised but unbelievable happy expression, when she opened the door of her new little house and saw him standing on the doorstep.

Without a word he handed her the letter and her eyebrows formed a confused line while reading it.

"What does that mean?" she asked and expressed the question that he had not been able to answer alone.

"I have no idea. She never mentioned an interrogation or an argument. Do you know where she is? You met her this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes, but we departed hours ago. She said she wanted to meet Grantaire… So I guess we look at his flat." She said and Enjolras nodded morose. Why was Gen not honest with him? What could be so bad that she didn't tell him? She had always respected the Duponts, so why should she just run away…

Suddenly the soft feeling of Éponine's hand in his ripped him out of his thoughts.

"Don't look so worried. I'm sure we'll find her and she has a reasonable explanation for all this." She smiled comforting and dragged him out of the house. To Enjolras surprise she didn't let go of his hand until they reached the staircase of the house where Grantaire and Courfeyrac shared a small apartment.

No one opened and Enjolras was on the verge of kicking the door open when Grantair ran up the stairs with a shopping bag.

"What the hell are you doing? You are so lucky that my neighbours aren't home! Damn!" he called out and dragged Enjolras away from the door.

"Grantaire, where is she?"

"Where is who?" Grantaire asked bedevilled and not understanding his best friend's behaviour.

"There aren't that many women in my life I would make a fuss about if I couldn't find them; so it has to be the other one! Where is Geneviève?" Enjolras eyes were filled with something that wasn't really rage or worry… It was a total chaos. Something Èponine had seen before, it was the look he had in his eyes when he couldn't understand something, when he tried to get the situation under control and be confusion's master.

"The other one? If Gen is the other one, who is the on- Oooh!" Grantaire's eyes swayed from Enjolras to Éponine and back and forth. "Éponine is the other one!"

Éponine blushed, not because she was embarrassed but rather because of Enjolras incidentally confession.

"No, wait, what? How did you-" Enjolras tried to form a sentence but the sound of footsteps approaching resounded through the staircase.

"This conversation isn't over! Both of you!" Grantaire whispered totally excited about this turn of events and his lips formed a wide grin towards Enjolras, while he pointed with his finger at both of them.

"What is going on up here?" Courfeyrac burst out as soon as he saw the situation in front of his front-door. Right behind him stood Geneviève and Éponine wasn't sure if she saw it right, but for a second it seemed as if Courfeyrac withdrew his hand from her waist as if he had burned himself the second he saw Enjolras.

"We were…" Grantaire started, but Enjolras cut him off.

"We were searching for Geneviève!" He said stone-cold eying his sister suspiciously.

"Oh, well I ehm… We were-" Courfeyrac started but Enjolras also interrupted him not even noticing his friend's awkward facial expression.

"I don't care where you were, I want to know why you are here!" it was totally clear that this question was intended for Geneviève.

The girl thrust Courfeyrac to the side gently so that she stood directly in front of her brother.

"What is it about this letter?" Enjolras asked again and held it up so that she could run over the page. Grantaire and Courfeyrac who also scanned the letter looked confused at Geneviève and the girl only closed her eyes. She looked defeated and sad with her eyelashes heavy and she bit her lip as if she was trying to prevent herself from crying.

"What is this 'criminal behaviour' Dupont is writing about?"

"Stop!" Silence followed Geneviève's silent exclamation. "I don't ever want you to think of me as a criminal, I never did anything wrong!"

"Then explain it to me, Gen. I want to understand it, that's all I want…" Enjolras voice quiet down and his eyes were fixed on his sister.

"I… I was involved in the latest Canut revolts. And I got arrested… That is what Dupont refers to by writing about an 'interrogation'. I was released on bail, because I of my emporium's repute and the Duponts were called to pick me up at the prison." Uncomfortable silence filled the staircase after her words and she looked on the ground. Grantaire shot Éponine a look that clearly showed that he felt as uncomfortable in this situation as she did. That was not a fight between them, it was an argument between brother and sister, but no one dared to move.

"That is not all, is it?" Enjolras was calm now but he still observed his sister and Éponine had the bad feeling that more secrets were about to be revealed.

Geneviève sat down on a step of the staircase. "No it's not all. I was with two other girls at the revolt. I knew them from the silk market, because they came from poor families and worked as silk workers. I often bought fabrics there and we became friends with time. Well, when we were about to get arrested I told them to run because I knew that my chances to get a lawsuit or to get myself bailed out were better than their chances to survive an arrest. I stayed in a cell for… I don't know…four or five days." She buried her face in her hands and some streaks of her pinned up hair fell into her face. "After bailing myself out I employed both girls, so that they wouldn't be found on the silk markets and working-class neighbourhoods. They lived at my flat and I thought it was all over, the Duponts knew about it because I trusted them. And… And that was my mistake, I was so foolish!" her voice was changing with every second from angry to desperately miserable and with every sentence her voice broke more and more. "When I came back from a customer my whole emporium was devastated and ravaged and neighbours told me that the National Guard found two fugitives from the revolts, who had tried to hide…" Lifting her head her voice broke and green, teary eyes looked up to Éponine and the two other men.

Éponine didn't have to listen to the rest of the story to know how it probably ended. She closed her eyes and wanted to cover her ears, but she knew she couldn't. The sad sparkle in Grantaire's eyes told her that he also knew where the story would lead.

"They… They executed them! Do you understand?" Geneviéve asked desperately staring at her brother with tears no streaming down her cheeks. "I directly went to the prison only to be told that a Monsieur Dupont had told them about people in my shop and that his testimony was the hint that led them to two female fugitives from the revolt."

Éponine saw Enjolras slowly closing his eyes his facial expression was a mixture of compassion and his own grief and pain. He knew how it felt to loose friends, to bear a special kind of self-inflicted responsibility for the tragic fate. While Enjolras seemed to be totally silent right now, Geneviève seemed to lose it. It was probably the first time that she had spoken about those events.

"Do you understand? I couldn't stay with the Duponts! I just couldn't and I also couldn't go back to my shop because I couldn't bear to clean up the mess made by the National Guard. I was so desperate, I didn't know what to do! They just executed them! There wasn't even a chance to bury their bodies, because… Because, do you know what happens to the corpses of putative criminals and prisoners? -"

"They are being sent to the morgue and…" Éponine interrupted the girl's fevered words and remembered the way she survived the barricades. She had been brought to the morgue too. "And from there the bodies are being sent to universities for medical researches and medical students to practise surgeries on…"

"Yes! Exactly and it was all my fault! My fault and I survived this! They are dead and the only thing I carry from those events are these!" she cried and her shaking fingers nervously took off the gloves revealing scrapes surrounded by dark red and blue bruises around both of her wrists. Everyone knew where those marks came from. Being locked up for five days handcuffed left prisoners with souvenirs like this.

Shocked silence filled the staircase only interrupted by Geneviève's silent crying. While Éponine watched the three boys and waited for a reaction she couldn't help but feel the greatest compassion for the young woman.

Enjolras was the first to move, slowly he approached his sister and sat down beside her on the stair-step. It was a picture none of them would ever forget. Both siblings as if truly ironically sharing the same fate. Éponine watched Enjolras holding his sister tightly against his chest and it was such a private moment that she felt a bit out of her element. While Geneviève was breathing in and out slowly to calm herself down Enjolras' gaze was fixed on his sister's wrists and the fingers of his own hands were cramped to a fist…