I do not own Les Mis.

For a young man whose only love was for his country, Enjolras Bataille had never planned on finding someone to fight for, someone to love, in Éponine Thénardier . Nor did the girl seeking the love of another ever expect to find herself drawn to the soul of another lonely heart lost in the darkness. Both dream of light... but what if it is they who are the light?

ENJOLRAS:

"Enjolras!" He groaned at the sound of his name. Was it Grantaire yelling at him, or someone else? He glanced around for Marius, or rather the girl with the dirt-streaked blonde hair who was always hovering behind him.

"We're ready at Notre Dame," Combeferre said.

"And at rue de Bac, they're straining at the leash!" Feuilly added.

"Everyone in the city! It's amazing, like the tide flowing!" Courfeyrac added. "They're all coming to our side!"

"Yes… the time is near…" Enjolras murmured quietly. A hush fell over the ABC Café as he spoke. It was nothing he wasn't used to. He'd always had that sort of charisma. "Near enough to get the blood in their veins stirring, yes, but we can't let our guard down." He paused to shoot Grantaire an evil look. "Yes, I do mean that we can't let the wine wash over our senses. We're fighting a foe far too dangerous for that. They have more men, more ammunition… they've had more time to prepare. It's easy enough to pick them off one at a time, but when they're together, the National Guard will be much more difficult to catch. What we need is a sign! Something to rally the people, to call them into battle— Marius, you're late."

"Er…" Marius ran a hand through his curly black hair, his eyes wide and haunted.

"What's wrong?" Joly asked, placing a hand gently on Marius' slumped shoulders. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Have some wine, then say what's going on," Grantaire slurred. Joly pulled the half-empty bottle out of his hand. "And give that back!"

"A ghost…." Marius repeated. "Maybe… she might as well have been a ghost. One minute there, then…" he waved his hand mournfully. "She vanished."

"She?" Grantaire smirked. "Listen to that! Is Marius finally in love? Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Listen to yourselves! Enjolras is talking of battles to win, and Marius is going around like Don Juan! This is better than anything at the Opera!"

"SHUT UP!" Enjolras yelled, hurtling an empty tankard towards the drunk. Feuilly caught it before it could smash into Grantaire's head. "Do you realize what is going on? The time has come for us to take stock of who we are! To decide if we will fight for what is a natural human right! So, will you all stop acting like children? Do any of you comprehend what price you might pay? No! I suppose this is just another game for all of you! It's not! The world is changing, our vision becoming tinged with an angry, bloody red and the black of the night that has lasted for too long! It's time for the people of France to finally see the light of a new day!"

"You'd know light if you'd seen what I saw this evening…" Marius sighed dreamily, and Enjolras fought the urge to vomit all over his friend. "It was unlike anything else I'd ever kno—"

"Marius, I don't doubt your intentions are all the best, but there are more important things than your lonely soul!" The distant look in Marius' eyes faded, and noise erupted though the café, only to be pierced by little Gavroche.

"Enjolras! 'Ey! Lissen t'me! It's General Lamarque! 'E's dead!"

"Dead?" Enjolras repeated. A strange, devastated euphoria swept over him. "This is it! This is the sign we needed! The time is here!"

ÉPONINE:

"Gavroche! Watch where you're goin'!" Éponine scowled, brushing her filthy blonde hair behind her ear with one hand, and cuffing the little gamin on the neck with the other.

"Oh, you don' scare me, Éponine! Not you or your father—"

She cut him off with a glare. "Spare me. Is Marius in the café?" Gavroche shrugged before scampering off. "Oh, you're a great 'elp!" Éponine muttered, checking the charcoal scratches on her arm to make sure she had could still read the clumsily copied words 55 R-U-E P-L-U-M-E-T. She was still looking at him when she knocked into someone. "Oh—"

"The fault was mine, Mademoiselle," the man interrupted. Éponine's breath caught in her chest. She knew his face, even if she didn't know his name. He was the leader of Les Amis, the one with the bristle of jet black hair that looked to be the same texture as new grown grass. His eyes were deep and dark, shining with intelligent light. He looked much brighter, much more hopeful than her father's motley gang. His thick brows furrowed at her, and Éponine had to resist the urge to lick her hand and wipe off any dirt on her face. It felt as though he were inspecting her. "I've seen you before, but we've never formally met. Are you going to be fighting with us? What's your name?"

"Erm… M'name's Éponine," she mumbled, looking down at her dusty, torn boots guiltily. "Éponine Thénardier… An' I ain't part of the revolution, M'sieur. I'm just lookin' for M'sieur Marius."

"Oh…." His face fell, and she felt a stab of pain in her stomach. Similar to the one she'd felt when Marius had knocked into Cosette.

"Couldjoo tell me wot this says?" Éponine stuck out her arm. " I dunno 'ow to read or write, you see, M'sieur."

"Oh, for pity's sake, I have a name!" he laughed dryly. "And we're trying to create an equal society. So, Éponine, you ought to be calling me Enjolras."

"Enroljas?"

"No, Enjolras."

"Angel-grass?"

"Now you're just trying to be rude," he interrupted. "If Grantaire can say my name, you can. Say it again: Ahn-johl-rahs."

"Ahn-johl-rahs," she repeated sassily.

"Was that so hard?" Enjolras asked, gently taking her wrist. "It says Fifty-five Rue Plumet. What's on the Rue Plumet?"

"Nothin' I want…" Éponine muttered, catching sight of Marius. "It's wot 'e wants. 'Scuse me."

"Hey! 'Ponine!" Grantaire called drunkenly. No surprise there, really. Grantaire was always drunk. "If you can get Enjolras to kiss you, I'll give you twenty francs—"

"SHUT UP, GRANTAIRE!" Éponine and Enjolras yelled in such perfect synchrony that everyone laughed.

"I'll kill him," Enjolras muttered, venom leaking into his voice. "If he doesn't fall at the barricades, that is."

"Can I 'elp you?" she whispered.

"By all means."

"Éponine!" Marius ran up to them. "Did you find her already?"

"Oh, you mean Mademoiselle Thénardier is not the one responsible for the stars in your eyes?" Enjolras asked. Éponine felt her cheeks burn scarlet beneath the dirt as Marius shook his head. "That's… surprising."

"'Ponine is a very good friend, Enjolras, nothing more," Marius corrected. Just a friend. Wonderful.

"Yes, I found 'er," Éponine muttered. "I copied 'er address. C'mon." She offered Marius her hand. "This way."

"Éponine?" Both she and Marius turned back to Enjolras. "Please… feel free to come back. This is a place of all kinds of freedom." Éponine nodded before turning away. Why did Enjolras care?

ENJOLRAS:

Why had he said that? And another thing, why was he following them? He should have been back in the café, not sneaking around the streets of Paris, trying to keep Éponine and Marius in his sight.

"In 'ere," Éponine jerked her hand towards a twisting iron gate. Through the bars, Enjolras could see a girl with ivory skin and hair the deep color of a moonless sky.

"Was he real?" The girl murmured, in a light voice, airy and almost as unreal as Éponine's was grounded and harsh. The one similarity was the ache of longing ringing in both girls' voices. "Or did I dream him?"

"That's 'er," Éponine told Marius. "Go on…"

"Oh, 'Ponine, I don't know how to thank you!" Marius whispered breathlessly. "I might as well be a new heaven!"

"Don't thank me…" she replied, then quietly adding something Enjolras was amazed he could hear. "Ev'ry word you say is another dagger in me. If you knew… if you asked me… I'd be yours in a heartbeat… and all the darkness would finally be gone…"

So that was it. Éponine was in love with Marius, and yet he'd asked her to find the girl in the garden. Enjolras felt a wave of disgust wash over him. The boy had to be blind to not see it.

Was Éponine really so selfless that she was helping Marius anyway? Slowly, a new feeling began to replace the disgust, one Enjolras had never felt before.

The more he thought about Éponine, the more he realized how much she seemed to embody his greatest ideals of the revolutionaries. She was independent, self-reliant, unafraid to say what she felt. And she could love…. But….

Now he knew he had to be going crazy. What with the scene developing in front of him, he knew there was no way Éponine would ever love him…. Even if he did find himself falling suddenly and violently in love with her.