Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables.

This takes place just before the events of the film, before Enjolras is the strong, passionate leader we know him to be.

This is my first Les Mis fic, and I would really appreciate any opinions that you all might have. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Monsieur Enjolras seemed to have the world beneath his feet.

Or at least, that is how everyone else seemed to think of him.

In the cold darkness of the night, Enjolras sat beside his table, lit by a single dimming candle. He could not sleep, yet again. His mind recalled the events of the day that had passed. Classes, a meeting with Les Amis. Another lonely walk back home and a repeated nightmare that caused him to be driven awake in a fit of sweat and a yell.

He had many names. Fearless leader. Master Student of the Revolution. Sometimes, he did not feel any of those names he had been called. Sometimes he felt completely and utterly hopeless. He talked of change and equality, and the fight that would lead them to victory, but truthfully, there was a fear that resided deep within him. A fear that all this work would amount to nothing. A fear that there would still be people dying in the streets, starving and living life like animals. No matter what he did, there was no guarantee that they would win.

Amongst this, there was also a deep paranoia that he was being judged. Talked about. He often spoke of peace amongst the people, but he really did not know as much about them as he would like to. He himself had been fortunate enough in life to not have to live outside, or beg for food. He would fight for them, forever, but they knew just as well as he did that he could not even touch the same experience that they were currently living. Did they hate him for that?

A large exhale escaped him, and the small flame of the candle flickered against his breath. His friends believed in the cause, and would follow him. That was some comfort. The thought of failing them was simply unbearable.

The night was drawing slower and slower, and soon he had found that these heavy thoughts were causing his eyes to fall. Blowing out the light, and making his way towards the bed, he wondered if tomorrow would bring them any closer to victory.

Any closer to the world that they longed for so much.

"Enjolras, my friend, why is that handsome face so glum?"

Enjolras gently shoved Marius' arm, who stumbled and chuckled to himself.

"I'm tired. Nothing more."

"Ah, but you should be more awake. Today is a big day."

Marius' excitement barely touched Enjolras. Today they would campaign amongst the streets for followers, and spreading the word of their ideals. Most often this ended badly and without gain.

"Yes, they are all big days," he replied wearily.

Marius frowned towards him. His oldest friend, who was almost always the most spirited amongst them, had been in this depressed stupor for over a week now, and it was showing more and more everyday.

"Come on," he prompted. "Today we might actually gain some new perspective. We will travel round the back street."

Enjolras felt a shiver run down his spine. That was were the worst lived and died. The thieves, the prostitutes, the dealers… The collective. They barely listened to the campaign. It would benefit them, but they were so far down in their hope that they didn't bother to listen anymore. None of them believed it's worth.

"Perhaps a smile?" Marius prompted, wearing a hopeful grin.

Enjolras shot him a cold stare. He was not in the mood for smiling. Shrugging in return, Marius turned his back and began to walk through the thin crowds. Enjolras rolled his shoulders and tugged self-consciously on his blood red jacket.

The streets had not improved since their last visit. Whilst Marius attempted to talk with families and small groups of people, Enjolras was left with the more seedy side of things. After several dead ends of conversation, he felt himself lean against the cool, damp surface of a brick wall and sigh in dejection.

Would no-one listen to them? Where they so lost and alone that all hope had left them?

"Troubled, Monsieur?" a purred voice came behind him.

He turned, and felt his shoulders fall in disbelief. A young woman, in her thirties perhaps, was standing opposite him. One arm was placed on her incredibly thin waist, and her bony shoulders were covered in dirt and God-knows-what-else. Her face was gaunt, and hollow, and her eyes seemed clouded and pale with lack of nutrition. There was an unnerving look in her eyes as she watched him, eyeing him like a piece of meat.

"Um…" Remembering himself, he straightened his back and turned to face her directly. A gentleman he still was, no matter who he was with. "Bonjour..." He decided to skip the normal form of address. "Perhaps you have a moment or two to talk with me?"

The woman's dull eyes seemed to twinkle a little with the prospect of a client. Something which Enjolras most certainly did not want to be. She pushed herself forward from the wall and leaned forward towards the student, her breasts clearly visible over the low cut of her ratty dress. "For you Monsieur? I have all day..."

Enjolras swallowed. "I'm part of a new group, intent on creating equal lives for all the citizens France. We'd truly appreciate your support in the matter-"

His voice faded into nothing as she reached out and ran her hand slowly down his chest, grinning wickedly. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but there was something in her face that made him silent. A kind of hidden sadness. A longing for profit, no matter what the cause. It was a look that quickly killed any arousal he might have instinctively felt at that moment.

As her hand travelled dangerously low towards his midsection, his arm flew out and caught her wrist, holding it away from himself as gently as he could.

"Please," he said softly. "Don't do that. You don't need to do that."

The prostitute looked momentarily fazed, watching him with confused eyes.

"You shouldn't need to sell yourself for money." He could feel his blood run hot with the talk of the cause. Being there, holding this woman...it was all real. She was the reason that they started this. "You could make something of yourself." Reaching up, he ran his fingers along his pin, adorned with red, blue and white frills. "This cause will help. Make you equal amongst the other communities of-" He was cut off as he found his back being shoved against the brick with unexpected force. When he'd regained himself, he looked up in shock at the woman.

She stared back at him spitefully, a vicious fire burning at the back of her eyes. "Make something of myself?! How dare you! You can take your cause and shove it! Do not look as if you are better than me! I'll rip out your colonne vertébrale!"

Enjolras managed to duck against the flying claws that threw towards his face. The woman did not falter, throwing herself against him in a fit of rage. He managed to resist against her, holding her back by the shoulders. His heart was beating incredibly fast, and he could barely believe that many people were passing by without a second glance.

He was not weak in the slightest, and was able to hold her away. However, her anger and fierce movements were difficult to control, and soon, something hard and fast whacked against his stomach, and Enjolras found the wind being knocked from his chest. As he crumpled to the ground, he looked up just to see the woman's hand raised and ready to strike. He couldn't even find the energy to look away as her hand came down on him.

Before her nails could disfigure his skin, a high shriek escaped her as he watched her shadow being pushed aside.

"Perdez-vous! Be gone! Get!" another voice yelled angrily at the prostitute. Enjolras stared in amazement as one figure was pushed into the sunlight, where she stumbled and stared in rage at the unseen stranger. After a moment's hesitation, she quickly turned and was gone in a hurry.

"Are you alright, Monsieur?" the voice asked, and Enjolras could feel a hand being gently placed on his shoulder. He managed to inhale, and slowly climbed up from the ground. He could not see the stranger's face in the shadows, but it was a woman certainly from her voice.

"Yes," he said, attempting to maintain some pride. "I didn't mean to offend her..."

"Ah, do not trouble yourself. The women of the street get violent at the slightest tick."

Growing weary of addressing a shadow, Enjolras squinted into the darkness. "Pardon me, but you are?"

The figure paused for a moment, as if debating on whether to make an appearance or not.

Soon enough, she stepped forward into the light.

Enjolras grew silent once more. Woman did not seem the correct term for who was standing in front of him. No, she was more a girl. Closer to his age than the other woman, most likely. Her body was slim and seemed weak, and her dress hung oddly on her, as if not made for her frame. Dirt dusted her cheeks and arms, and her cheeks where shallow from little food. Her dark hair hung limply around her pale face, tangled and dirty. She looked tired. Tired and hungry. It made her appear haunted and blank as she looked upon him. She did not smile at him, but simply watched his reaction to her ragged appearance.

He fixed his eyes on her face, taking her in. When he finally spoke, it was almost a shock to hear his own voice. "...Mademoiselle."

The girl quirked an eyebrow. "Monsieur."

It brought a furthur depression onto Enjolras, seeing this girl. She was frail and hungry, and yet there was something in her features that made him think that once upon a time she may have been beautiful. Happy. A sort of gentleness that grew soft in her eyes.

He chose to pursue her, as she might have interest in their idyllic future. He had no reason to be weary of her, and so he warmly smiled. "Might I know the name of my saviour?"

The urchin upturned a corner of her lips towards him. "...Eponine."

Eponine. "That's a pretty name." Enjolras blinked. Did he say that aloud? How strange. It was only supposed to be a thought.

Eponine also appeared taken aback momentarily, but she quickly recovered. He was greatful when she spoke and broke the silence. "And yours, Monsieur?"

A thought crossed his mind. Enjolras knew better than to fling his name carelessly around the street, as did the other members of Les Amis. They were careful not to let themselves be traced back. However, this girl did not look treatening. Still, he could not risk it.

Eponine did not appear fazed by his silence. "If it bothers you, then do not say," she said plainly. "But do not attempt to lie."

Her bluntless amused him, and Enjolras had to hide a grin under a stony face. "Then I shall not say."

"Very well." Her eyes searched him up and down, before letting out a sigh. It almost sounded as if she were now bored of him. "I suppose I will now leave you alone. Have a nice day."

"No, no. Don't leave." Enjolras could not stop himself. "You live here?"

Eponine took a moment, but eventually nodded, pointing across the road towards a greying, run-down building. "In there."

"How long?"

She turned and looked at him once more, this time, her eyes falling to his chest. It was several moments before she nodded her head towards him. "Are you a student, Monsieur?"

"Yes, I am."

"What is that you are wearing?"

Enjolras looked down, and caught sight of his pin. Due to some strange instinct, he reached down and gently removed it, handing it over to her for closer inspection. "It is a symbol."

He watched as she turned in between her hands, her eyes narrowed at the odd badge. "Of what?"

"A new future. A dream."

She looked up through her eyelashes at him, her eyebrows raised in question, as if she belived he were very peculiar. "Pardon my saying so, but I have dreams too, Monsieur, and you do not see me wearing a badge."

A chuckle that Enjolras could not hide warmly fell from his lips. "No, that's true."

"What is your dream?"

"Well," he started, pushing himself away from the wall. "I suppose it is of a Republic. Of a place where everyone is equal and nobody is forgotten. A place where there is no need to live on the streets and where food is available for all. That's what we're planning on bringing."

Eponine's lips twisted in thought. "How are you going to do that?"

Enjolras paused. He did not expect her to catch. She did not laugh at him, or become angry like others did. She was listening. "Really...it's...it's just about raising awareness. Getting people to fight with us. The more people who have the same ideas, the less the Authority can fight back."

Quietly, Eponine bit her lower lip. She seemed to be thinking about it, as if testing the idea in her head. Enjolras watched, entranced by her behaviour. Suddenly, she glanced up and let her lips spread into a small smile. "I like your dream."

He could not help but smile back, feeling comfortable in her company. "Thank you."

"I just have a question," she mused, her hand reaching out and returning his badge. He silently took it from her, waiting for her to speak. She was quiet for a moment, watching him as he pinned it back on his jacket. Her eyes looked wide with wonder, and Enjolras could not bring himself to look away as she gazed upon him. It seemed hours later that she actually continued. "...Why are you fighting for something that does not affect you? Clearly you do not belong on the streets. Why do you care?"

Enjolras felt an odd twisting sensation in his stomach. It was a question that he could not really answer. It was simply a feeling. A thousand thoughts that he could not bring into one sentence. There were many reasons, but none that would make sense to anyone other than him.

Eponine saw his face, and the blank stare that followed. She opened her lips, as if to speak, but was cut silent as the sound of galloping horses echoed through the streets.

A yell could be heard, and the sound of children crying out for each other rung horribly in Enjolras' ears. He leaned out of the alley, turning his head to gain a better look. He only caught sight of gold upon blue uniform before he felt himself bring pulled back into the darkness. When he looked to where he saw Eponine last, he found that she was now just inches away from him, her brow creased in panic and her feet shifting, as if to run.

"Are you stupid?!" she spat, her hands now gripping into the fabric on his shoulders. "Do not let him see you!"

"Who?"

Eponine quickly poked her head around the brick, to duck back in just seconds later. "Inspector Javert!" she breathed, her chest rising and falling in panted breaths.

Enjolras felt a tightening around his heart. He knew Javert. The cruel man who blindly handed justice wherever he deemed fit. He had no eyes for revolution or sympathy, and he hated the poor as one would hate a rat. If he and Marius were caught in this street, rallying for the cause...they would surely be jailed and everything would be lost.

Eponine watched the realisation flicker through Enjolras' eyes. He glanced down upon her, and at an attempt to comfort, he reached out and placed a gentle hand at her arm.

"I must go," he whispered. "I cannot be seen here."

She nodded quickly, and began to look around the street for any more guards that might block their way. "I will help you. Follow me-"

As she began to tug on his arm, Enjolras yanked away in a panic. He could not leave. "My friend, Marius. He-"

Eponine narrowed her eyes in irritation. "There is no time, you must go! I will bring him out." She did not allow time for Enjolras to reply, as she stuck her head around the corner and watched the street. Javert seemed distracted by a group of small street children, and was in the process of getting off his horse. She quickly pulled on his arm, and dragged him out of the alley and into the light. He was strong, much more so than she, but he allowed her to pull him across the street. "Come on!" she pleaded, moving behind him and pushing him into the space between two buildings.

She pointed down to the end. "Go down there! It will lead you to the next street. I will find your friend." Enjolras was about to speak, but she had turned her back and already disappeared out of his sight, leaving him open mouthed and with his blood pulsing.

It was very odd. She had risked herself by hiding him. Not many richer people would even attempt that. Inside, there seemed to be something warm and welcoming brewing in his heart. A kind of pride almost that this girl, caked with dirt and poverty, would be a giving person and something much more than she appeared to be. It gave him some hope. Some sense of confirmation that the revolution would bring about more freedom for these people.

Part of him wanted to go in and help her find Marius. There was a small voice, however, inside his head demanding him to stay, to trust her, to see what she was capable of doing.

Minutes later, he had found himself pacing the ground outside the small opening. At long last, he heard the sound he had been waiting for. The sound of running feet and hushed whispers. Enjolras stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the gap, waiting for a sight.

He found himself exhaling with relief as Marius ran out, followed closely by Eponine.

"Marius!" he exclaimed, held over the protection he felt for his close friend. "Were you seen?"

Marius was breathing heavily, his hands placed on his hips as he leaned over to catch his breath. "N-No. But it was close." Turning his head, he looked upon Eponine. "Thank you..."

"Eponine," Enjolras stated. It was an odd impulse, as he wanted to be the one to introduce her. It was childish perhaps, but he felt he found her first. "...Her name is Eponine."

"Thank you, Eponine."

The girl shook her head, and looked around them. "Don't thank me. Just don't get caught out again."

Marius nodded, and straightened himself. Turning to Enjolras, he had a face of tiredness. "We should go. Les Amis will be waiting."

Enjolras gave him a nod, and waved in the direction of the familiar cafe. "Yes, go. I'll meet you there."

Marius gave him a questioning look. Enjolras' lips tightened, and quickly glanced his eyes towards Eponine, who was too busy surveying the area to notice the exchange.

Marius' eyes widened. "Ah. Well then, I suppose I'll...see you there. Good afternoon, Eponine."

"Goodbye, Monsieur Marius," Eponine polietly spoke, watching as the young man turned and began walking from them.

Enjolras took the moment to turn to Eponine. "Thank you. You are very brave."

"It was nothing."

"No. It was rather a lot." After a moment's thought, he slowly reached into his pocket and fumbled around nervously. Pulling out a handful of francs, he held them out to Eponine. "Here."

Eponine stared at his hand, and her face quickly crinkled into disgust, and she stepped back, shaking her head. "I did not help you for money. Do not think that I-"

Enjolras stepped forward to match her, and softly grasped her tiny wrist in his hand. "I know. This is not payment. This is a gesture of my gratitude. Take it."

Biting down on her lip, Eponine seemed to have a moment of quiet conflict. "...Are you sure, Monsieur?"

A grin spread across his lips. "Quite."

He emptied the money into her hand and gently closed it in his. Her fingers felt cold against his skin, and roughened with the dirt and grime. Yet it did not disgust him or make him want to pull away. Eponine silently moved her hand from his, cradling the coins tightly in her palm.

"Thank you," she mildly replied.

"My pleasure, Mademoiselle." His voice was warm and smooth in the cool afternoon air. A corner of his lip upturned in a playful smirk. Inside, Enjolras was questioning himself wildly. He did not talk like this. He did not act like this, particularly not around women. He put it down to the adrenaline of the day that he was experiencing.

Eponine turned slightly, watching him carefully. When he said nothing else, she sent him one last passing gaze and began to walk away from him. He could not bring himself to tear his eyes away until she had walked the street, and turned the corner.