Well hello people of the world! :P This is my first fanfic! I've had this idea in my head for a while now and after watching Les Mis for the second time yesterday I decided to finally act upon on it! This mostly will be associated with the movie because I haven't had the opportunity yet to finish reading the book! I wanted to try something different and any feedback is really appreciated and if you guys like it I will do my best to continue. Anyways thanks and I hope ya'll enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, or the characters in it. (I wish I did :P) and all rights belong to Victor Hugo.

To Enjolras the noise in the back room of the Café Musain was becoming nearly intolerable. He sat in a small corner towards the back trying to formulate his plans for what perhaps would be the most important thing he had ever done. The revolution of the people. The revolution was what he lived for, what he breathed for, what he was willing to risk his life for.

He scanned across the room at Courfeyrac and Joly, who appeared to be conversing excitedly with one another, at Combeferre who had his nose in a book, and at Grantaire, who as usual had a bottle in his hand and a glazed look in his eye. Their seemingly apparent forgetfulness and amusement irritated him. His gaze finally rested on Marius, who was sitting alone near the window, appearing to be daydreaming. Briefly, a flash of anger coursed through his body.

He knew without a doubt that he was daydreaming about her. The girl he had seen today, and who had so obviously captured his heart, and his mind. A mind that Enjolras needed to be focused on revolution, not some foolish romantic fantasy. Frustrated, he rested a hand on his forehead and stared down at the table, deep in thought. The next time he glanced up, he caught a glimpse of Marius with his "shadow" in tow, darting out the back way. He was most likely on his way to meet his new amant.

Another thing he could not understand was Marius's blindness to whom everyone referred to as his "shadow", the brunette gamine who followed him almost everywhere and who was so infatuated with him, that it was nearly sickening to watch. Everyone knew about her affection for him, even Enjolras knew. Everyone, except for Marius himself, knew. A small part of Enjolras felt pity for the girl and he thought perhaps in time her affections might turn else ware to someone who would reciprocate them in return. But that was where his thoughts about the matter ended. He did not know very much about love. Nor, did he wish to learn more.

He knew it was late and suddenly he felt very exhausted. The stress and frustrations of the day had taken its toll on the young leader and left him feeling weary. The others still appeared to be lively and slightly inebriated, among other things. Almost silently, he got to his feet and left a franc on the table next to an untouched mug of ale, before pulling on his red coat and slipping his wallet into the front pocket. He slipped past the others almost unnoticed, until he felt a strong hand clap his shoulder.

"Enjolras, where are you going?" He turned and saw that it was Grantaire who greeted him with a wide smile and glassy eyes, awaiting an answer.

"To bed. If I were you I would do the same thing. Our minds need to be clear and focused for when we meet again tomorrow night." He replied slowly to make his point, but soon saw that it was lost upon his companion.

"Stay a little longer. Lighten up a little and join us mon ami!" Grantaire laughed, but soon lost his smile when Enjolras shrugged his hand away and wordlessly left the room.

The night air was cool and almost refreshing to Enjolras as he stepped outside onto the street. He gazed up into the night sky and took a deep breath while he stared up at the stars. Feeling slightly calmer, he began his walk back to his small apartment.

It was noiseless outside compared to the loudness of the café. So quiet in fact, that his mind began to wander again back to Marius and what he had stated earlier that evening.

"If you had been there tonight, you might know how it feels."

Once more agitated, Enjolras continued to walk faster. Marius was a fool. He shouldn't let such ridiculous things cloud his judgment, especially such a thing as love.

"You might know how it feels."

Enjolras shook his head. He had never been in love. He needed no mistress when he had Patria. The one thing that had mattered to him was Patria. Even more so when his family had disowned him, Patria soon became the only thing that mattered.

He was so lost in thought and in agitation, that he barely noticed that someone was in front of him, until it was too late and whoever it was ran headfirst into his chest.

"Pardon monsieur." A voice quickly spoke as they both tried to right themselves. Looking down, Enjolras saw that he had run into a young gamin with a cap hung low over his eyes and a ragged coat drawn tightly around his shoulders.

Before he could respond, the boy darted off in the other direction. He stood for a moment staring off at the fleeting figure and felt a small smile form on his lips. He had remembered being that age once, always being in a hurry but with nowhere really to go. He was about to go on his own way again, but something felt amiss. His hand brushed the pocket of his coat. His wallet was gone. The little gamin had stolen it!

Enjolras quickly turned in the direction the boy had gone and soon began to run. He supposed to himself that the thief had been aware of his presence for a while, perhaps he had even been following him. Enjolras certainly did not have a sufficient amount of money, but what was in that wallet was really most of what he had in the world. He needed it to live off of, until the revolution anyway.

The agitation he had felt almost moments ago had turned into anger, which in itself had turned into adrenaline, which kept him running. A little ways ahead, he spotted the boy walking down the street in a careless manner.

"Hey!" He shouted, and the boy turned, and seeing it was him, began to sprint and turned down an alleyway.

Enjolras continued his pursuit and followed the clambering footsteps of the gamin through the many twisting and turning alleyways of Paris. Deep in his mind he knew that it was pointless to continue, but this was the first time in a long time that he had felt so invigorated and for once not bothering about his revolution.

He would have lost the thief for sure eventually, but then the extraordinary happened. The boy tripped on a loose stone and nearly went sprawling to his feet. He caught his footing, but by that time someone else had caught him as well.

Enjolras had grabbed the thief's forearm with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around the thief's struggling upper body.

"My wallet please." He demanded, but the gamin wasn't giving up and a moment later a sharp elbow was rammed into his stomach. He felt the air being knocked from his body and his hold temporarily loosed on the boy, who soon began to pull free from his grasp. Yet, he quickly recovered and gritting his teeth, he once more tightened his grip on the boy's arm and pulled him back, spinning him around. His free hand, grabbed the boy's other wrist tightly. The unlucky gamin tried to kick at him, but nearly lost his footing, and in doing so the cap from his head fell free.

For a moment the struggling stopped all together and as Enjolras stared down at what was in front of him, he couldn't help but utter "Mon dieu…"

No longer was he wrestling with a gamin, but with a gamine. A disorderly array of golden curls had fallen free from the cap's hold and now rested upon the girl's shoulders. Dark eyes stared up at him with a look of determination and fear. He was speechless and shocked at the true gender of the thief. He immediately loosened his grip on the girl's wrist, but still held onto her forearm.

"Why did you steal from me?" He found himself asking after a moment of silence. The girl went from staring at him, to staring at the ground. In his heart he already knew the answer. If it was not for food, it was for shelter, and if it wasn't that it was perhaps to pay off a debt her family owed to some bourgeoisie aristocrat. But still, he thought he was owed some sort of explanation, so when she did not answer he asked again.

"Why did you steal from me?"

Her gaze went from the ground back to him, "My sister is dying monsieur," she spoke frankly and deliberately, "she needs food and medicine that we cannot afford that is why I stole from you."

Her explanation was quick and simple. He had heard numerous stories like hers before from friends and gossip on the streets, but never before had he been so struck by the harsh reality of it. He knew she was not lying. Her eyes told him so. They stared into his almost unblinkingly and in them he could see the honesty, the pain, and the determination to survive in what truly was a very cruel world. It was for the unfortunates like her, that the revolution was for.

She tugged her wrist free from his hand, and reached into her coat and pulled out his wallet. "Here is your money monsieur. Please do not fetch the police." With those words she handed it back to him.

He accepted it with his free hand and slipped it back into his pocket, once more he was speechless. Lost in thought again, he did not notice the growing fear of the girl who stared down at the hand that still held onto her forearm.

"Monsieur," her voice brought him back to reality, "Please do not contact the police." He stared down at her for a moment and saw true fear in her eyes. When it appeared to her that he was not going to free her, she took a daring step closer until she was less than half an inch away from him. Her eyes darted up to his face several times searching for an answer, but received none from his stoic expression. "Please, I will do anything." Reaching out a shaking hand she placed it on the opened collar of his shirt and slowly began to trail it down his chest.

"Enough." He spoke softly and letting go of her arm, he removed her hand from him and stepped back. "I am not going to the police." He watched relief spread across her features. He had never even considered the idea of going to the police in the first place. They were mostly an enemy to the people, especially the infamous Inspector Javert. No one deserved to be subjected to him.

Enjolras turned and was about to make his way out of the alley, but something stopped him. Slowly he rotated back towards the girl. "Here". After a moment of consideration he pulled his wallet back out of his coat and tossed it to her. "Consider it a cadeau. One day things will be different. For all of us." With that he turned and left.

As he made his way to the end of the alley, he glanced back one last time and saw that the girl was staring back at him, rooted in the same spot, with a curious expression on her face. He stared back at her for a moment waiting for something he was not sure of. Realizing that he was waiting for nothing he was about to turn again, when an almost inaudible voice stopped him.

"Merci monsieur." She looked at him with an expression of gratitude. Slowly, he nodded his head once and then left, making his journey home. The rest of the night for Enjolras, was almost disappointingly, rather uneventful.

Translation Time!:

amant- Lover

mon ami- My friend

cadeau- gift

Merci - thanks