A/N: This is just an introductory chapter, so bear with me. Next chapter will begin explain things. Please, please, please review! It would mean the world to me. I don't own Les Miserables.

Eponine woke up, her eyelids peeled apart slowly, stuck together with sweat and tears. Her dark hair stuck to the side of her face. Her fingers lingered over her cheek, pulling away the strands of hair, her brow furrowed.

She lay on her back, shifting around carefully. Eponine noticed that she wasn't wearing anything but the slip she wore under her daily dress. The threadbare straps on it hung off of her shoulders, exposing her sharp collarbones.

She was in a bed that wasn't hers.

Eponine looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. It was much nicer than the one in her bedroom at the house she occasionally stays at, the one she can't bear call home. It was always leaking, leaving large, dark stains in the cheap material. It dripped onto her forehead in the middle of the night, waking her up.

This ceiling was different. It was white and untouched.

Eponine turned on her side, seeing Enjolras sleeping soundly beside her.

It had started last night. She had just walked Marius to Cosette's house, looking after him, smiling. When he was happy, so was she. He would walk quickly, a small smile playing on his lips, mumbling things about his Cosette. His Cosette. He always called her his Cosette. He was her Marius.

Eponine didn't know why she went along with it. She thought it was because she was so invested with him. She didn't care where he was going, even if he was going to meet his soulmate, she just loved being with him. She would be with him and absorb everything he would say and do. Later, she would carry these memories around with her in the darkness of the streets after everyone had shut her doors.

But that night was different. Something changed in Eponine. When she saw Marius run to the gate and Cosette run just as quickly towards him, something broke inside of her. The way her small hands fit perfectly in his broad ones. The way they looked at each other.

She felt as though it was all official now. There was no going back after this. Marius and Cosette had been seeing each other for a few months now. But all of a sudden it seemed so final. The way they fit together had changed. It had gotten drastically serious, their movements towards each other urgent and true.

Eponine didn't wait for him to finish swooning over his Cosette. She left without him, nearly running back to the cafe. Rain began to fall and she began to cry. Rain water and tears streamed down her face, flowing into each other. Soon, she couldn't tell the difference between the two waters, nor did she care. Thunder rumbled softly overhead, and soon Eponine began sobbing, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her wet hair stuck to her face.

Eponine shuddered the minute she got into the cafe, grateful to be in the warmth. She breathed heavily, holding her sobs inside of her, wiping at her eyes before she realized no one would be able to tell the difference. It was eerily dark, and it seemed the whole cafe was only lit by one candle. Eponine took a few more deep breaths before walking up the stairs slowly, sniffling and shivering from the rain.

"Hello?" A loud voice came from the top floor of the cafe. She recognized that voice as Enjolras's. One of the young revolutionaries who frequented the small cafe. "Who's there?"

Eponine struggled, a sob caught in her throat. "It's me, sir. It's Eponine."

Eponine and Enjolras had met many times, but had only passed not more than one hundred words. She was intimidated by him, and preferred to make small talk with Joly or play dominos with Grantaire. Enjolras always seemed so serious all the time, and Eponine didn't like that. One thing they had in common was that they both liked to mask their emotions. Enjolras behind parchment, Eponine behind a smile.

"Come in." Enjolras responded briefly.

Eponine continued to walk up the stairs before getting to the main room of Cafe Musain. It was dark, only one candle painting dark shadows of the two people on the walls. The chairs to the table were pushed out and crooked, suggesting a meeting had just been dismissed. Eponine sat down in one, sniffling.

Enjolras sat with his back to her, writing furiously on a piece of parchment. Surely something about General Lamarque's illness and how it was worsening.

Lamarque had gotten sick about a month earlier, and he was slowly getting weaker and weaker. This put Enjolras in a state of panic. He gave Lamarque another year to live, and had started making plans for a revolution to begin.

She liked the idea, knowing that it could help her get out of the rut she was stuck in. She could become successful, surely, doing something. Eponine could make a difference for women, she would be strong and independent. She already was different than most girls and women, living mostly on her own. Mostly because now, she didn't have any other choice. She cringed, shuffling in her seat uncomfortably.

Enjolras turned around in his chair, glancing back at Eponine. She was shaking, water dripping from her hair and her tattered old dress. Suddenly, his heart reached out for her. He couldn't tell if she had been crying or if it was just water from the rain that continued to drip from her face.

He got up and went over to the fire pit behind her, setting up a fire.

"Would you like some tea, sir?" Eponine asked quietly. "I can make some quickly..."

"You stay sitting... I'll make it." Enjolras responded, brushing his hands on his pants and heading over to the stove top.

"No. You can get back to work," She said. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you."

"I needed a break anyways..." A kind smile tugged a the side of Enjolras's mouth.

Now, Eponine lay in the bed in the back of the cafe. She didn't know what happened... or she didn't want to. She did know what happened, she just didn't want to think about it. She planted her small, bare feet on the wooden of the small back room in the cafe and stood up slowly, careful not to stir Enjolras. She grabbed her dress from the floor, cringing, and put it on over her head, ignoring the way it hung off of her body that was growing more scrawny every day.

Enjolras lay on his stomach, the sheets of the mattress pulled up to the middle of his torso, exposing his freckled bare back. The look on his face was one of pure innocence and pleasure, his lips parted slightly. She looked down at him grimly, turning around and tucking her hat onto her head.

She looked once more at Enjolras, vowed to herself to never let anything like that ever happen again, and closed the door behind her.

But the vow would be broken soon.