A/N: Hey guys! This is my first attempt at fanfiction of any sort, so I hope it's decent! I have taken some inspiration from other fanfictions (specifically Beyond the Barricade - beautifully done!) Aaron Tveit and Samantha Barks are my inspiration for Enjolras and Éponine. Thanks to Anne-Lilian for putting this chapter up for me in advance. Read, review, and most of all, enjoy!

Warning: This first chapter is a little dark, but I promise, it gets better!

Chapter One

Éponine

Part of me still couldn't believe this was happening.

The man I loved had fallen for her, of all people.

I watched them at the gate of the house at Rue Plumet, professing their love for each other, and I fully realized that Marius and I could never be together. He could never feel this way about me. Not after Cosette.

And why should he love me? He was a Baron, a wealthy man, and I was a street rat, no better than the dirt under his shoes. My parents were disgraced con artists whose slow fall from what little grace we had began when I was still just a child. Papa's inn was only a front for our constant theft – a bad one, at that – and when it went under, we took to the streets, now in elaborate disguises and concocting dangerous plans. Papa and Mama continued trying to scam passersby; when I wasn't roaming the streets, "seducing" men so Papa could pick their pockets, I became an assistant lookout to Montparnasse, and I hated every minute of it. I never said anything to my parents, because I would have gotten the beating of my life, but I had always hated cheating innocent people, even if it was our only way to live. After I met Marius, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and the others at the ABC, I had learned to see the affected side of Mama and Papa's schemes – the innocent passersby we had cheated for as long as I had been alive, and longer. These poor were not so different from us, and yet, they were so much better than us, because they had found honest ways to keep food on the table. They never had to resort to running from the law.

Suddenly, Marius was leaving the gate.

Jerked out of my reverie, I waited for him to exit the spotlight of the moon. "Alright?" I asked softly as he approached me, although I knew what his answer would be. "Do you still need my help?"

He shook his head. "I can find the way back on my own." Grinning ear to hear, he hugged me tightly, a bit to my surprise. "Thank you, 'Ponine," he grinned, racing off in the direction of his house. I watched him leave, and with a sigh, started my own walk home.

I hadn't gone more than a few feet when I heard an angry, but familiar, male voice.

"Who is this hussy?"

"It's your brat, Éponine!" an answer came. "Don't you know your own kid? Why's she hangin' about here?"

Papa's rough hand suddenly grabbed my arm as he turned me to face him. "Éponine, get on home. You're not needed in this; we're enough here without you."
"I know this house, I tell you!" I protested. "There's nothing here for you, just the old man and the girl. They live ordinary lives!"

"Don't interfere!" he snapped. "You've got some gall. Take care, young miss; you've got a lot to say."

Wildly, I searched my brain for a solution. I was desperate and scared of what my father could do – I had plenty of childhood experience with it – but I knew that if I truly loved Marius, I would do something, anything, to ensure his happiness with Cosette.

"I'm gonna scream! I'm gonna warn them here!"

"One little scream, and you'll regret it for a year!" Papa threatened.

As soon as he turned his back, advancing towards the house, I steeled myself. For you, sweet Marius, who will never be mine. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and screamed shrilly at the top of my lungs. I heard the ensuing chaos in the house, but I kept screaming, knowing I would pay dearly for this.

"You wait, my girl! You'll rue this night!" Papa yelled, clearly furious with my insubordination.

Yep, I'm in serious trouble now. But I can't back down. I've crossed the last line. Come on, 'Ponine. Do it for Marius.

"I'll make you scream –!" I cut him off by spitting in his face. "You'll scream, alright!"

I suddenly felt a hard, backhanded slap across my face that nearly sent me spinning. He may have drawn some blood with that one. Wouldn't be the first time. All the same, I only permitted a small grunt to leave me. "Police!" I heard him shout.

Fear leaped through my heart. A woman would be in much more trouble at the scene of a crime than a man. A woman could end up in prison for much longer than a man. I didn't know if Papa was serious or not, but as it started to rain, I ran home, unwilling to risk my hide for his.

As I ran through the rain, I started to remember…

I was suddenly 8 years old again, running and laughing through the inn while Cosette, the sickly little servant girl, went to fetch more water from the wood. When the pail was full, it was far too heavy for the weak little girl, but Mama and Papa made her do it all the time anyway. I had always loved tormenting her. Mama and Papa didn't even mind my cruelty to her – in fact, they often did the same.

One day, when things around the inn started to get boring and none of Papa's cronies were around to entertain me; I decided to lie in wait outside the wood for Cosette. When she came back from the well in the wood, I would "accidentally" knock the bucket from her thin hands. It wouldn't be hard; Cosette could never keep a steady grip on the thing, much to Mama and Papa's everlasting anger and chagrin.

I started to let up my pace when I couldn't hear Papa and his gang anymore; they had to be far behind me now…

I chose a fairly large tree close to the front of the wood and hid behind it once Cosette was out of sight. As her lark-like singing voice faded away, I got more excited about my little prank. Part of me almost wished Brujon, Babet and Montparnasse were here to see me put my little idea into action. They'd be so proud of my smarts! "Look at our little 'Ponine," Brujon would say proudly, almost affectionately, in his naturally gruff voice. "Smarter than her years, eh, Montparnasse?"

"So it would seem," Montparnasse would grin at me, maybe granting me an affectionate slap on the shoulder. "Pretty soon, she'll be running with us!" Babet couldn't talk; he'd had his tongue cut out as a young man, but I could picture the thin-lipped smile he'd give me. I had always glowed when Papa's cronies praised me. The validation made me feel good about myself, for once in my short life. Mama and Papa always doted on me, but it never felt as sincere when I heard it from them as it did from Papa's friends.

The streets started to look more familiar as I went; I wasn't far from home now. Home, a decrepit excuse for four walls, a few harsh words from my mother for being out late, and a real beating from Papa when he got back…

Cosette's approaching little song suddenly jerked me out of my fictional reverie. Focus, 'Ponine! I criticized myself. I peeked out from behind the tree, scanning the woods for the little girl. Ah, there she was! She wasn't far from my hiding place now. Her tiny frame was making slow but sure progress towards the front of the woods – and me – clearly struggling to support the full bucket.

I found our little shack, at last, and with a heavy sigh, stepped through the curtain that passed for a door.

"And just where have you been, little missy?" I heard my mother's yelling voice. I sighed heavily in frustration; there was no getting past that woman's sense of hearing.

"Out," I answered shortly. I was in no mood to deal with her.

"Alouette?" I called softly as she approached me. Alouette meant "lark," and it was what we called Cosette because of her voice.

The lark-song stopped suddenly, and she put the bucket down as I came out from my hiding place. "Éponine?" she asked in confusion.

"That's Mistress Éponine to you," I snapped back at her in my most haughty voice. I loved being able to use it. "This is my house, and you're nothing more than my family's servant."

Cosette bowed her head, obviously afraid of what I could do to her with just a few words. I liked that feeling, knowing that I had control over her in a unique way.

"I won't have that, Éponine Thénardier!" Mama snapped, grabbing my arm when I tried to pass her. "Tell me where you've been in this rain, and why your face is bleeding!"

"I told you, I was out!" I yelled back, jerking my arm free. "Marius and I were just walking around the city before it started raining. And your damn husband is the reason my face is bleeding. He slapped me."

"Well, I'm sure you did something to deserve it," Mama said angrily. "And I highly doubt that you were 'just walking around the city' with a boy like Marius Pontmercy, especially in this rain. For God's sake, child, just look at you!"

"What about my looks, Mama? I love him, and if he loved me too, he wouldn't care!" I covered my mouth as soon as the words were out. I couldn't believe I'd just slipped up and confessed my deepest secret in front of my mother.

"You want some help with the bucket?" I asked, faking a kind voice.

Cosette looked at me warily; had she seen through my scheme? I tried to make my eyes as sincere as possible, and after a moment, she seemed to trust me. "It is rather heavy," she said with a nervous chuckle. She took a hold of the handle with her tiny, weak hands. "Can you try to lift the bottom, Mistress Éponine?"

Grinning to myself, when the bucket left the ground, I pushed it up hard and tipped it back into her face. She tumbled backwards, the now empty bucket on top of her. The look of shock was still painted on her face as I ran away laughing, and she began to cry.

Mama laughed aloud when I spoke. "You love him? You love him? Oh, 'Ponine, my naïve little firstborn," she snorted. "How could you ever delude yourself into thinking that a wealthy man like Marius Pontmercy could ever condescend to love a filthy street rat like Éponine Thénardier?"

I stepped back from her, stung by her words. Before the situation could escalate any further, however, Papa showed up. My heart started to pound with fear. What's he going to do with me now?

"Ah, there's my little rat of a daughter," he snarled, grabbing my arm and slapping my face hard again. As always, Mama didn't stop him. "Just you wait; I'll teach you not to disobey me again." He threw me aside, and I landed on my back on the hard floor. "Now get out of my sight before I kill you. Montparnasse is waiting outside."

I was stunned for a moment that I was actually alive, but hurried outside before he changed his mind. Sure enough, Montparnasse was waiting for me outside, already drenched by the rain.

"Evening, 'Ponine," he said slickly, tipping his hat to me in an overdramatic gesture. Montparnasse was several years older than me, and had been a lookout for my parents for years. Papa had enlisted me to be his assistant when I was nine. Now, after 10 years working with him, I was almost better than he was.

"Oh, shut up, 'Parnasse," I snapped, my well-trained eyes scanning the streets for the police. My mood was getting worse and worse by the moment, and tonight, Montparnasse's slickness wasn't entertaining the way it usually was. It was just irritating.

He raised an eyebrow at my sharp tone, eyeing me carefully as I tracked a group of horseback police that turned down a neighboring street. "Well, well, well, what's got the cat baring her claws tonight?" he said, moving to stand in front of me. He was still eyeing me in a way I didn't like, and I wasn't quite sure what to think of it.

"Enough of the metaphors, 'Parnasse. I'm in a bad mood."

"I can see that much for myself," he snorted, continuing to approach me. "The only question I have is, why would you not want to confide in me, when you've known me your whole life?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Just because I've known you my whole life doesn't mean I trust you with my secrets, Montparnasse."

A look of mock offense crossed his face. "Oh come now, 'Ponine. Why wouldn't you trust me?"

"You steal and lie for a living. Men like that can't be trusted, no matter how much they say they can be. I should know; I was raised by one."

I saw a dangerous anger flash through his eyes, before the same sickly sweetness returned. "But I am different, 'Ponine." Before I knew it, my back was against the wall, and he was holding my wrists down. "It's just me, your Montparnasse."

Shock and mild fear came over me. "'Parnasse, what the hell –?"

He put a finger to my lips to shush me, pushing me harder into the wall as he did so. "Quiet now, little 'Ponine," he whispered in my ear. His breath was rotten, and made me feel sick. "Don't make me go get your papa and tell him you're misbehaving."

'Parnasse had always known how to play his hand. I knew he'd go get Papa, and then I'd be dead, so I reluctantly went quiet. "Good girl," he grinned maliciously, slamming his lips onto mine. His mouth tasted as rancid as his breath smelled. Unwillingly, I kissed him back, knowing things would only get worse if I kept trying to resist him. His hands moved from my wrists, but I was smart enough to keep them where they were, or he'd slap me. His slaps were almost as bad as Papa's, but what he did next was worse than a slap or kissing me.

As the kiss ended, I felt his hand grab my right breast as the other tried to lift my skirt. I winced in pain as he squeezed it too roughly, and he chuckled to himself, lifting my skirt a little higher. "Be a good girl, 'Ponine," he whispered in his same, sickly sweet tone.

"Like hell," I hissed, before kicking him hard just under the chin. He fell to the ground, his head making a sickening thunk against the cobblestones when he hit the ground and stayed there. I put two fingers to his wrist, the way I'd seen Joly do, and felt a pulse. Thank God I didn't kill him. Papa really would kill me then.

I couldn't believe what was happening tonight. One minute, I was getting my heart broken, then after running for my life from Papa, one of his closest friends, had tried to rape me. Before long, the tears came again, and before I knew it, I was running to the one person I knew I could still trust.

A/N: And who might that be, 'Ponine?