Okay guys, my first fic ever! This is more of an experiment than anything, I don't think it will be that long. But hey, you never know. My only real goal for this is to get this story out of my head and onto paper and stay true to the characters. I guess we'll just have to see how this goes, right? Happy reading! R&R, my loves! xx BE

Ever since the first gunshot rang out, Eponine had been filled with a terror stronger than she had ever felt in her life. Yes, she had lived mainly on the streets for years and seen things no girl should ever see. She had taken beatings from her father, run from the police, faced potential danger every moment of her life - but it had never been like this. On the barricade, with bullets flying past her, the danger was too real, too close. Death to herself and the Amis was no longer a distant future, or inevitability; instead, death was happening all around her as she reloaded rifles and ran from place to place, trying not to slip on the pavement slick with blood and rain. It was suffocating and absolutely, undoubtedly terrifying.

Eponine Thenardier was no coward. She considered herself quite brave, actually, much braver than the average person her age. But when it came down to it, real-life battle was nothing she could have possibly prepared for. It was absolute hell. The schoolboys around her were being slaughtered by the National Guard. Every second another dropped to the ground, clutching his side or chest where the bullet had struck him, eyes wide in pain and the sudden realization that he would not be living to see the next day. Most seemed to die almost instantly, but the ones who didn't were the worst. They writhed and spasmed where they fell, crying out for anything at all to save them. Those who had been so brave just seconds ago were reduced to pitiful shams by death.

She would like to have said that she didn't fear the end of her life. She was proud, and a proud person doesn't admit fear. But when it came down to it, death was about as frightening as anything could get. When it was all around her, so close and so real, it was near-crippling. Never in her life had she been so certain of anything as the fact that she did not want to die.

Maybe someday. In the past, it had occasionally seemed like a possible escape. But Eponine was not ready for that escape, not yet.

And so she fought, like she had never fought before. It was less actual shooting and more handing up ammunition and loaded rifles to the students atop the barricade. But she was still desperately fighting for her life. If the National Guard climbed over the barricade, it was all over. They would be shot point-blank, no questions asked, no time for excuses. All those who had joined the rebellion would be killed without hesitation. She knew that, and from the way the others around her were furiously defending themselves, the Amis were quite aware also. They were all working together to save themselves, and for some, France.

But who the hell was she kidding? She would take her life over a country any day.

Next to her, another man who had been loading a rifle with gunpowder crumpled to the ground. Trying to stay impassive, not letting herself look at his wound, Eponine bent and retrieved the firearm. She finished the job the now-dead man had started, gripped by terror. What if the Guardsman had been aiming just a fraction of an inch to his right? Despite herself, she stole a look at the Ami. That could have been me. I could be dead. Then she handed the rifle to another who was standing above her, taking the gun he gave her and reloading it. She determinedly ignored the dead body beside her and the cries of the wounded all around. She could not think about any of it - there was no time to think, no time at all. If she thought, she was dead. There was only acting - switch guns with the revolutionary above her, reload, repeat. Feel nothing at all for those around you. Stay numb to stay alive. Later, she could mourn the dead with the others - but a dead girl could do nothing. Her only priority was to keep going.

It did not take long for the opposing forces to gain ground. Soon, the first uniformed men appeared above her, climbing over the stacked furniture that had seemed so protective not long ago. Eponine felt her heart race uncontrollably as she did her job. This was the end. She would be dead soon, she knew it. There was no way the Amis could hold off the Guard - they had been foolish to think a revolution could have possibly been successful. Who would join such a cause? Who would become just another dead body to be found in the morning? Certainly not the people of Paris, who slept soundly, possibly unaware of the carnage around them. They did not care about the poor, or if they did, it was not enough to sacrifice their lives for. And who could blame them? If given the choice, now that she was faced with the imminent possibility of a bullet in her chest, she would happily join them. She would rather be dirt-poor, oppressed, a thief and gamine all her life than die so soon.

Death, when inescapable, was suddenly the most terrifying.

Of course, there was one thing worth fighting for. Eponine was not stupid; she had not joined the fighting with delusional dreams of a new France and equality. While a good idea in theory, it meant nothing to her. She had accepted her tragic fate long ago. No, she had a much different reason to join the Revolution. Not long ago, she had befriended one of the young schoolboys, by the name of Marius. He had shown her kindness and quite honestly turned her life upside-down. Marius Pontmercy, a young scholar, was her one beam of golden sunlight in a dark, dismal world. What he saw as an unlikely friendship was something more for Eponine. She loved him. It was simply, but not quite simply, that - she loved him more than life itself. She loved him enough to follow him devotedly to this barricade in hell where there was no real hope of survival. She loved him blindly, and he was blind in the way that he did not see her love for him.

Just days ago, though it had seemed like a lifetime, Marius had fallen in love. And it was not with Eponine - rather, he had fallen for a beautiful, bourgeois girl, Eponine's opposite in every way. Marius had begged her to play messenger for them, ferrying letters of love back and forth between the two lovers. Eponine complied, of course. As much as she hated herself for furthering his love of the girl, Cosette, she could never refuse anything Marius requested. She was powerless when it came to him. It tore her apart, watching the romance unfold.

She loved him so, so much that it ached. But he would never know.

And so she was there on the barricade. She was there, staring down the enemy, staring down death itself. And so the army was advancing, and so she knew that she would soon die.

So, I know this first chapter wasn't very long and did absolutely nothing to further the plot. But I needed it to set the stage, as well as just get something out there for people to see. I promise the next one will be much more interesting. ;) xx BE