Suspicion

Eponine Thernadier had known Paris all her life, ever since she was eight and moved here. But the Paris she knew was not it's famed opera houses or it's fashion houses, but its streets and alleys, it's dark corners where the rich folk imagined all sorts of monsters. She had seen much in her young life, she knew those monsters, she had seen hunger, sickness, waste, things that would give people nightmares, she had seen children waste away, she had seen honest men reduced to begging and drink, she had seen beautiful women reduced to hags by whoring. Thank heavens she never needed to do that. Her father had a gang, she was a look out and thief for them. It meant she was slightly higher up in the social layers of the underworld, for what little it was worth.

She walked around the city, her pretty figure and face attracting admiring looks from men, but she ignored them, thinking of one specific smile. She supposed she had reached the highest she would reach, she had more then others around her, a place to sleep, ragged though usable clothes, usually enough food, but sometimes she dreamed of more. When she'd look at herself, she remembered the happy days of childhood, when she was never hungry, she dreamed of fancy clothes, parties, and books and...yes, what was this she heard? "Treason! Traitor!" and a whistle! Then the sounds of swords, cheers and speeches! Yes, she could hear the speeches. Her large gray eyes lit up. The ABC students were nearby, that meant...that meant He was near! She smoothed her black hair, trying to make herself look prettier. She walked up to where the students passed out their fliers. She listened for a moment, savoring the speeches. Yes, one day liberty would come, when nobles were stripped out of their titles and belongings, she believed anything when Marius said it. But where was he? She looked about but he was gone! There seemed to be a previous ruckus, what had happened? Her eyes caught Enjolras getting down from the crate to get some water. Maybe he could help her, he was usually quite kind to her. All the students were, they treated her nicely, shared their ideas with her, but she had eyes only for her Marius. "Hola, what just happened?" she asked as she walked.

Enjolras splashed a handful of cool water onto his face and neck, relishing the relief from the hot sun and his even more fiery conduct. Leaning one hand against the crate he'd been standing on as he accepted a sip of wine from a friend, he glanced sideways towards Eponine as she approached, wiping his mouth upon his sleeve and regarding her as one would a beloved little sister. "A demonstration," he said firmly, nodding back in the direction the soldiers had gone. "A loyalist decided to get himself arrested by letting his tongue run off without him." Chuckled, the young ABC student took another drink, then passed the wine flask on. "Pity you missed it. It was an inspirational sight." Though he grabbed a handful of fliers from another student and flipped through them distractedly, Enjolras's dark eyes roved over across the street, wondering if it was indeed Armand St . Just he'd just seen pass. If it were, the extra help could always be needed, and Enjolras had been meaning to keep his suspicious eye on the young lad anyway. "What are you doing here, 'Ponine? This isn't the most ideal place for a girl..."

Eponine smiled. Being around the students made her remember there was a world beyond hers, a more beautiful world that was like the world in her dreams, only real. She wanted to be just like them, she believed wholeheartedly in the ideas of Liberty , equality and fraternity, how she adored their speeches, though she didn't understand how it could be done. Somehow, killing aristocrats didn't seem to make bread any less cheap, but if Marius told her, she believed it. God, she believed everything when he said it. Eponine had once pitied the aristocrats in their fall from grace, no one deserved to starve, but now, a sense of vengeance had been transplanted into her. It was because of people like that, parasites that she had starved, had spent time in a prison, had been kicked and spat on all her life. "I always come to demonstrations, it's important to witness history in the making. Someday, you'll go down in history! What a pity I didn't get to see that loyalist receive his due. Well, it's good to hear of it. Don't worry about me, I can handle myself, you know that. I want to help our cause as much as I can! Hmmm, I was wondering where Marius was? I didn't see him at the demonstration, is he all right" she asked, blushing.

Enjolras grinned smugly, chuckling a little, then casually glanced back in the direction Armand had gone. Enjolras personally liked to keep company as devoted and passionate about their cause as he, Marius, and Eponine were...those who weren't or had the slightest doubt did well to avoid him. "I don't care to be famous or go down in history," he said jovially, lightly patting her shoulder as he eased away from the group of demonstrators to a quieter area behind the students. "There will be plenty more for you to see. I promise. And if you want to help, I have a favor to ask you..." As he spoke he left her side to rummage through a crate where the students stashed most of their supplies, withdrawing a book and an inkwell. Tearing a blank page from the book's interior, he flattened it onto the leather binding and began to write upon it with a battered quill � being one of the few students who actually could. He glanced up with a brow raised in interested when Eponine inquired about Marius. "No, I haven't seen him here," he answered loftily. "If I know Marius, he's alright. Probably off with his head in the clouds as always." Finishing his hastily-scribbled note in a signing of the ABC Student signature rather than his own name, he folded the paper up and stood back to gaze Eponine levelly in the eye. "I'll tell him you asked should I see him. In the mean time..." He paused, handing the note to her but never losing eye contact. "I would like you to deliver this letter for me. To Citizen Chauvelin of the Jacobins, you know him? It is a very important matter." Another pause for emphasis. "Can I trust you to get it to him?" He noticed the red tint of a blush about her face and smiled a little, hoping not to seem to overbearing. Not with a lady, anyway. "I would seal it myself, but we haven't any wax."

Eponine nodded with a smile. It was such an honor that they trusted her to do favors for them. She loved being able to help her friends in their cause, especially Marius. It gave her a sense of purpose in life, being part of their world of ideal and liberty, instead of the grudge around her. She could see Enjolras's eyes were following a man suspiciously. Could he be someone like the Scarlet Pimpernel? "Meddling English Scum" was what the students called him and all eagerly drank to his swift demise. Well, if he was, he was sure bold. Nah, it was more likely a loyalist or someone else who was an opponent of liberty. She watched Enjolras write the letter and listened as he spoke. He was right; she did know Marius, her love, his head in the clouds, never noticing her. Why did she love him so much? It had no reason, but she just did, just like a moth to a flame. She grinned when she heard the next statements. Enjolras could tell Marius how much of a help she was, that would impress him. "Of course, I'll do it right away. Don't worry about sealing it, I can't read very much anyway. Citizen Chauvelin of the Jacobin club, I don't know him, but I am sure I can find him" she said, taking the letter and putting it into her pocket. "I'll find you later with the answer" she said as she hurried off, feeling wings on her feet.

Enjolras stood resolutly, his arms crossed over his chest, watching until Eponine was gone from sight. A small smile played over his features, a fraternal glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Now there's a girl one can grow attached to," he muttered to himself, blinking away his stare to turn back to the noisy street around him and the gathering of students beyond. Marius was still not here. Where the devil could he be? Stalking back into the midst of the other young hot-blooded revolutionaries who parted like water before him, Enjolras once again mounted his crate to give his emphatic speeches, the others continuing to pass out their fliers and draw attention. If Marius wasn't here soon, Enjolras reasoned in the back of his mind while he wildly preached of their cause, he would go after Armand and see what the young man was up to. But first thing was first...

Marius wandered down the avenue, vaguely aware that there was some place he had to be and someone he had to meet. How could he think of such trivial things when his mind was filled with images of her? Somewhere in Paris walked an angel who held his heart in her tiny white hands. The memory of that encounter sent thrills down his spine.

For a moment he saw Armand St. Just at a distance, was that who he was suppose to meet? No. Armand seemed to be making a good effort at keeping up with another man who cut a quick purposeful path through the streets. But it was no one he recognized. He continued on until he heard the penetrating voice of Enjolras shouting out against the crimes of the aristos, shouting out against the ci-devant Capet and his brood. Merde! He was suppose to meet Enjolras! His friend would be none too pleased with his tardiness. Marius pursuited the voice until he found Enjolras atop his crate surrounded by the other ABCs who welcomed him enthusiastically. He waited until Enjolras has finished speaking. "I got distracted," he said as a form of apology.

Enjolras was nowhere near the end of his passionate rant. He could go on for hours if he had to. And on more than one occasion, he had. Shaking his fist out to the crowd, rewarded again and again by resounding cheers from those who stayed to listen, he caught sight of a familiar face among them. Marius. Finally. Reluctantly he wrapped up his sermon, backing away, shoulders heaving from exertion, and climbed down off his crate to give the chance to someone else...though always kept half an ear on what was being said to make sure it was accurate. "Marius!" he hailed, grinning gently as he approached his friend with a hearty clap on the back. "Speak of the devil. So you were distracted, eh?" His words were meant to tease and spoken with a laugh as he snatched a flask of wine from a passing student. "Still chasing those hapless girls?" He took a swig, wiped his mouth, and handed it over to Marius, cordiality fading gradually to become more serious. "Good to see you, mon ami."

"Fair enough," Enjolras said passively, crossing his arms over his chest. "Crowds come and go. Only those who are truly dedicated bother to stay. Glancing back to Marius with his sobered _expression, he related the information tentatively, hating to spoil what seemed to be Marius's good mood. "You know that boy, Armand St . Just? I have a feeling he's turning traitor upon us. It's only a suspicion, but the fact his sister just married a rich Englishman makes it more prominent." He searched out and found Marius's gaze to lock with his own, intending to make it known this was no light matter. Nothing was when it came to the revolution. "I've sent a letter saying the very same to the proper authorities. Keep your eye on him in the future, will you?" Shifting suddenly back to the former giddiness, Enjolras stifled a laugh and turned half away back to the other students, waving a hand dismissively. "By the way, Eponine came by earlier. She kept asking about you. You draw the girls like flies, you dog."

It made sense that it would be Armand St. Just to betray to cause, the signs had been there... pity they hadn't taken heed before. Like sister, like brother. Pity. He was on the point of mentioning that he had spotted St. Just when Enjolras mentioned Eponine.

"You draw the girls like flies, you dog."

Marius sighed with exasperation, "Especially that one. She trails me like a pup." Eponine. Rarely could he turn around without finding her eyes upon him, her questions and entreats. He then remembered. "I just passed Armand St. Just with another man, they seemed in quite a hurry... and Armand did seem... anxious. Had I known this than I would have followed. I didn't recognize the other, but there was something about him I did like."

Enjolras grinned, wondering if Marius caught on to what he was thinking. Evidently not. It didn't say much for his friend's intelligence, but wasn't it blatantly obvious Eponine saw him as something a little more than a friend? Oh well. If Marius couldn't see it, then he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell him. Let the fluffhead figure it out for himself. "Yes, I saw as well," he mused at the continuing subject of St. Just. "I was making an example of a loyalist and he walked right by. I was entertaining the idea of following him then..." As though the notion sounded even more appealing now, Enjolras glanced back to the gathered students, taking note of the current mood and the time. Grabbing a passing student he exchanged a few brief words, then smiled satisfactorily as he straightened his tattered vest and tricolor sash. "Then what say we do it, eh? There's little more that needs to be done here." He was already heading off in the direction Armand had gone, though still leaving Marius the option of remaining behind if he so chose. "St. Just is fairly well-known by most. He shouldn't be hard to find. Unless... you'd rather stay and chase girls." He'd always envied Marius for that. Not to the point of where he said anything about it, but he did.

"You wouldn't be a patriot," Enjolras laughed as they went, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You'd be a man! Well spoken, of course!" He led the way confidently, inquiring to the young street urchins he chanced to recognize as they passed on whether or not they had seen Armand. As reliable as hunting dogs, the young children were excellent spies. It was only a matter of moments before their directions led the two of them. Enjolras whistled slowly. "Armand's done well for himself," he muttered aside to Marius upon seeing the fancy restaurant, unconsciously touching the small dagger he kept hidden inside his vest for such occasions. "No violence if we can avoid it," were his final instructions before he strode on inside, gesturing Marius after him.

Holding his breath to conquer the annoying hiccups, Armand made quite the face when he turned a confused frown Andrew's way. Raised by a woman? What had that to do with�? He let the breath out all at once, unable to hold it any longer. "It was my understanding that gentlemen didn't drink or swear," he argued in a quiet mutter, not wanting to contradict Andrew in the first place, let alone when he sounded right. Someone in the back of his consciousness Armand knew he was but a boy compared to the other League members. He'd been the last to join, of course, and mostly by accident, but add his youth, inexperience, and lack of resources, and it was small wonder he was treated as the group's "pet." Even so he wouldn't have it any other way. He idolized Percy, Andrew, the entire lot, and if his only real use could be as their loyal lapdog, then...so be it. A pathetically subservient personality had earned him the short end of the stick most of his life, thus he had grown accustomed to it. He would never live up to Marguerite's status. But enough of that, he scolded himself, looking down to the books still set in his lap when Andrew drew attention to them. "These?" he asked, as though there were any other to refer to. "They're a bout...law and politics, mostly. It's what I study at the university. I like them. Percy's given me several. Surely you've read this one? By Thomas Pa�"

"Armand!"

Jerking with a start as an unexpectedly strong hand suddenly clamped down upon his shoulder, Armand dropped the bound pamphlet to the floor and snapped his gaze up to see the very Enjolras and Marius he'd tried to avoid that morning. Either the former dark-haired ABC Student didn't see the youth's sudden lack of color or pretended not to notice, for Enjolras only smiled in turn at both men seated. "We missed you this morning! Such a pity, too. A loyalist decided to cause a ruckus at the demonstration, but never you worry. We put him in his place." Patting Armand's shoulder, Enjolras stepped away, folding his arms over his chest as he turned his gaze to Andrew, rising up and down with an experienced scrutiny. "Won't you introduce us?"

"Of course," Armand mumbled, recovering himself to swipe up his books nervously and rise from his seat, gesturing to the two students. "This is Citizen Enjolras and Marius Pontmercy..." He stumbled through, eyes lingering on Andrew in internal worry. What in the world could they want?

The aggressive stance of the two thugs who crowded the table, alerted Andrew and he rose slowly from his chair. Bully boys, the pair of them, and exactly the sort an unprotected lad such as Armand would attract. Were they after money, or blood? Tall, slender and inoffensive looking, Ffoulkes bowed deeply from the waist toward the two. �You-ah huuumble servant, suhhs,� he said, more nasally than was natural, affecting the vicious drawl he�d mastered in company of the Prince of Wales. Armand�s eyebrows raised; Andrew ignored the child, facing the two visitors with caution. As he righted himself from his bow, he rested his weight on his right foot, canting his left hip to one side and rested his hand there . . . where he felt the short hilt of a knife he wore against his left buttock. What would it take to win this round? Carving up both, or would one run if the other fell? Certainly the obsequious owner was making himself scarce. Did he not value his plates and bottles?

�I say, my d-dear Saint-Just, your friends are v-v-vicious looking brutes!� Andrew underscored his words with a fluttery wave of his hand. Provocative. He took in the slump of Armand�s shoulders and batted his eyelids at the two antagonists. �You do keep rough c-c-company, what?�

Fingers tight on the sheaf of his knife, Andrew lounged beside his chair. It could prove to be an entertaining evening after all.

"We English flock to P-Paris in d-d-droves, you know, to learn how to muster said revolution for ourselves. Don�t you think we need it?" Andrew took a few mincing steps, shifting his hips so that his coat tails swished deliciously. He tossed his head and glanced over his shoulder with his best come-hither flirtation. It was said at all the best parties in London that beneath every Frenchman�s breeches there hid a secret sodomite and Andrew intended to use that knowledge to his advantage. A shame he wasn�t dressed for this game, he so missed his curled wig. No matter. He would mesmerise the little hellions and them chop them to ribbons.

"Mademoiselle Saint-Just is a marvel. A p-paragon and turning of all London on its ear. I�ve come to study her subject . . . both the petit frere and the blood spouting on the c-c-cobbles. Do you know anything of England? If you do, you�ll understand my enthusiasm for your so genial people." Once more Andrew flicked his wrist, fluttering lace and pretending demure sweetness.

"Shall we d-d-drink to the revolution, mes amis? I shall buy you the most decadent wine you�ve ever tasted. We�re all one, now! Come, join us. Armand was just telling me that all of P-Paris is one great m-masquerade!"

Andrew moved further away from both the table and Armand, attempting to lead his little birds toward the door where, with fewer tables, he might unsheathe his sword and make a more lasting impression on these thugs.

For a moment Armand sat in his seat, wondering what in the world Andrew was up to and whether or not he should play along. He swallowed hard as he took in his companion's incredible mannerisms, eyes darting back and forth between him, Marius, and Enjolras, before sinking low in his chair, forehead held in his hands. It was only when Andrew began to ease away from the table that he looked up in worry. He knew he should trust his fellow League member, but his higher priorities were based on avoiding any kind of conflict that could turn bloody.

Enjolras didn't move from where he'd taken up a stance beside the table, smirking as deliberately as he could manage at Andrew's manner. English, was it? If local gossip proved to be at all true, the revolutionary could compare insult for insult in that Englishmen were notoriously ill-endowed. Armand may not have been half the problem this English aristocrat could prove to be, but nevertheless he didn't want to let the little whelp out of his sight. Also noting that the Englishman didn't give up his name when Marius had asked, Enjolras lingered at his friend's side to give Andrew a full lookover, as though somewhat taken with his facade. "A life of poverty tends to do that to a fellow," he said calmly, keeping one hand on the table and thus close to his own dagger hidden in his tricolor sash. "But no need to hurry away, monsieur! We could share a wine right here." Grabbing a chair from a nearby, vacant table, Enjolras pulled it up beside the placement where Armand still sat, planting himself solidly in place and refusing to move. "I hope we're not interrupting anything important, Armand? Here, Marius..." He gestured to another seat for his companion.

"Uhh...nothing, really," Armand managed after a moment, only hoping to draw some tension away from Andrew. If Enjolras and Marius were looking for trouble, maybe...maybe...oh, he didn't know. He glanced back up to Andrew, pursing his lips in a search for guidance. What should he do?

Marius took a seat on the other side of Armand, still keeping his eyes on the Englishman. He was attempting to discern if he and Enjolras were interrupting an act of treason or an intimate rendezvous. He placed an arm over Armand�s shoulder�s in a seemingly friendly manner. �Armand, mon ami, don�t tell me that we are disturbing an intimate moment here!� Marius laughed. �I had no idea that you shared your sister�s taste for the English. Alas, I am willing to wager that bitch Angele St. Cyr ruined your taste for the fine flowers that grow on your home soil. Pity.� Marius shook his head mournfully, still keeping an eye on Andrew. �Come. Sit. I see you�ve an eye for fine wines.� Raoul glanced at the bottle on the table. �You can enlighten us on the wisdom you�ve collected during your stay in our fine Republic.�

Andrew moved with lightning swiftness, leaping over the chair as he darted to Armand�s side, drawing his knife as he went. Marius felt the blade touch his skin and his adam�s apple bobbed.

"Haven�t I made it clear that the b-boy is mine?" Andrew snarled, the stutter remaining in place despite his tension. He saw the colour stain Armand�s cheeks and hoped that adolescent bluster wouldn�t ruin their chances for a hasty retreat. "While I�m more than willing to drink with friends, I deem your usurpation of my *property* . . ." Andrew felt Marius flinch beneath the blade and, thus alerted, raised his eyes just in time to see the man�s friend take a step toward him. "Stay where you are or your friend dies." The friend halted, his eyes trained on the flashing blade beneath Marius�s chin.

Keeping his tone as conversational as possible, Andrew said, "Get up Armand and leave. Wait for me just outside the door." As Armand hesitated, Ffoulkes slapped Marius�s elbow jarring Armand free. "I have paid for the pretty boy � paid for the whole night. If you wish to await his return, you may do so, but for tonight, he�s mine." Andrew spoke slowly, his voice unusually gruff and menacing. As Armand crossed the threshold, Andrew made a tiny nick in Marius�s throat, then flew like the wind across the floor and out the door.

"Run!" he shouted pointlessly. Armand was already at the gate.

Armand paled a few shades as Marius's arm enclosed around him, feeling himself go involuntary stiff and turning his gaze towards Marius's eyes, frowning in naive incomprehension. "Intimate?" he echoed, lost. It took a moment before realization hit sudden and complete. Trying to shrug away the other man's arm in vain, he laughed nervously, willing to take the comment in stride. It wasn't the first time someone had thought such things, anyway. But venturing so far as to insult the lingering affection he still had for a certain woman crossed the line. Armand stiffened, voice lowering though it hardly sounded as menacing as he would have liked. "She did no such thing..." he muttered, approximately two seconds before Andrew pulled his stunt of drawing his knife upon Marius. What drove him to such action he didn't know, and wished Andrew hadn't done, but the time would have to wait when he could make his opinion heard. Face widening with shock, forgetting to breath, he stared wide-eyed up at the blade Andrew held at Marius's throat, then whipped it across to Enjolras, too frightened to move at the sight of the ABC Student drawing his own dagger and advancing. As ordered Enjolras did stop his advance, but not his dark-eyed glare of hatred at the Englishman. His fist clenched around the handle of his dagger in white-knuckle tightness. Armand, blindly followed Andrew's directions to the letter, made himself as small as possible as he slid out of Marius's proximity and gathered up his books, easing backwards towards the exit and unwilling to remove his attention from the sight. Even when Andrew shouted for him to run, it took a moment for the thought to register, and by then his companion had almost caught up with him. So Armand turned and bolted, not daring to look back once as he sprinted blindly at Andrew's side, hardly paying attention to where they were headed. Behind them, Enjolras lingered only a second to make certain Marius was alright, then gave chase, the dagger gleaming in his hand.

Marius scarcely breathed as the Englishman held the blade to his throat. He glared hatefully at the impudent fop, but did nothing. There was little to do, he wasn�t prepared to die yet. He�d found love, his ideals were being realized. But he would be even with this vapid fool. For a moment after the blade had been removed, Marius was unable to move. He waved to his friend that he was alright and to pursue the fleeing pair. He could have died. He placed his hand to his throat where the blade had been nestled and removed it to find blood on his palm. �Name of a name of a dog! Fils d'une chienne! That little tapette cut me!� Marius reached into his boot and withdrew his own dagger. The Englishman would pay! He was off in a flash, out the door and following Enjolras. By god, he�d make that Englishman pay! And Armand... Armand was in league with the stranger. There was no more doubt about it, Armand was a traitor. He would have to be dealt with.