A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first story I've written for Les Misérables. I've been working very hard on it for a few months now and so far I've been pretty pleased with how it's turning out. I haven't read the Brick yet, so I've been doing a great deal of research on the characters and such. Please let me know if there is anything off or any kind of misleading information – I'll be happy to fix it. I was initially nervous to post this online because I noticed that mostly everyone writes Enjolras with either Éponine or slash so I'm unsure if many people will read this. Since then I've come across a few other OC stories, so hopefully you'll all enjoy mine! Thank you for reading and reviews are always greatly appreciated. :)

Paris – June 1832

Enjolras emerged from the Café Musain experiencing an overwhelming array of emotions. General LaMarque had passed – and he and the Amis de l'ABC were fully prepared to execute their revolution. He felt an electric chill at the thought. The people would finally be uplifted! Justice would finally be served!

Yet despite his euphoric feelings of victory and excitement, there was one little detail that had bothered him about the evening. Marius had been acting quite peculiar. Never in his time of knowing him, had he heard him speak of a woman in such a way. So why now? What was it about this girl that made her so special? He just couldn't see eye to eye with him. Underneath all the excitement, Enjolras was worried – worried that Marius' "epiphany" might jeopardize the success of their revolution. He couldn't have Marius speaking in such a manner at the Café. He feared that some of the other students might actually listen to him and take his side instead. Then what would become of their revolution? He had to keep them focused on the higher cause at hand.

He continued to wander back to his flat, his concentration more focused on his current situation than on where he was actually going. His thought processes were halted abruptly when he heard what sounded like an argument coming from a nearby alleyway.

"No, sir, I don't think you understand. I'm not a prostitute—" the voice of a young British woman was suddenly cut off by her high-pitched shriek.

He immediately dashed into the alley to see a man trying to force himself upon the young woman. Enjolras practically ripped the man off of her, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and with one swift blow to the temple, the man crumpled to the ground.

Both stepped back, breathing heavily. Enjolras didn't waste a second.

"Come on, he may come around at any time," he said hoarsely, taking the girl by the elbow and hurrying her out of the alley.

He made sure that they were a safe distance away before they stopped to catch their breath. He let go of her arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked as the woman brushed herself off.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine... Thank you... you... you saved me from a rather dreadful experience," she said as she looked up, still a little breathless and shaken from all the sudden commotion.

A stunning feeling suddenly overcame him. He hadn't really caught a clear glimpse of her face until then... He felt as if something had physically moved inside of him. Every inch of his being felt like it was drawn to her, and he had no idea why. Her hair was unlike anything he'd seen before – a pretty golden orange colour. It fell loosely in long strands past her shoulders and down her back. Her blue eyes were flecked with gold; they sparkled bright against her pale porcelain skin. She was beautiful, yes – but there was something else about her that he just couldn't place. She was just stunning. Absolutely –

The girl cleared her throat, breaking him out of his dreamlike stupor. "Sir?"

Realizing his mouth was gaping open, he quickly slammed it shut, licking his lips nervously. "I... ah, umm, it was not a problem, mademoiselle."

Enjolras felt suddenly shameful of his odd behaviour. Since when was he so jittery?

A very small, unsure smile crept upon her lips. It was apparent that she thought him to be some kind of freak.

He shook himself mentally, determined to get rid of his dazed manner for good. "My name is Enjolras," he leaned forward, offering his hand.

"Victoria Watson," she said hesitantly, returning the handshake.

He smiled. "Would you – would you care to join me at my flat for some tea?" he asked her without really thinking.

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "Tea? At this hour?"

He blushed furiously, feeling grateful for the lack of light in the street. "Well, then at least let me walk you to your flat."

"No, that's alright, thank you. I think I can manage fine on my own," she said politely, starting to turn away from him. She stopped as he suddenly took hold of her wrist. She slowly turned back to face him.

"Please," he said. "Don't go alone. As you have probably guessed for yourself by now, these streets can be particularly dodgy at night."

She slowly glanced at his hand wrapped around her wrist. Her gaze shifted back up to his face – his expression was intent.

"Well, if you insist," she said, gently taking her wrist back. "It's this way," she gestured, and began walking. Enjolras followed and fell into step beside her.

"Why haven't I seen you before?" he asked her. He was very familiar with the area and rarely saw any new faces.

"My family just moved here last week from Great Britain. My father is a philanthropist, and he's very determined to aid the poor all around Europe," she said.

He nodded. "That's very good of him."

"Yes, I agree. I'm afraid that all of the moving around may get annoying after while, though," she said, then paused for a moment; a pensive expression on her face. "Don't the French hate the British?"

Her question caught him off-guard. "I suppose some do. I haven't really thought of that before," he shrugged. He didn't think of Britain often, what with his growing obsession with Patria.

She smiled. "Fair. It was just a thought I've been wondering about lately. What do you do?"

"Me? I'm a student. I'm looking to go into politics."

"That's very interesting," she said, studying him for a moment. "You seem like you'd be quite a good politician."

"You think so?" he smiled bashfully.

She nodded, smiling back. "Yes, definitely."

"Well, thank you. How about yourself?"

"I'm also a student; I'm studying to become a journalist."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's very prestigious of you."

"Thank you. Papa says that it's important for everyone to earn an education, even women," she said, and stopped in front of a building. "Well, this is my flat. Thank you once again for escorting me and... saving me from an awful experience."

Enjolras held up his hand. "No need to give thanks. Now, I pray you'll remember not to go wandering out here alone anymore?"

She pursed her lips; a bit of a smug expression was on her face. "Yes, sir."

He smiled warmly. "Thank you." He paused for a moment; a different expression clouding his features. "Despite the terrible circumstances under which we met... It has been lovely to be of your acquaintance, mademoiselle," he said smoothly as he bowed down to plant a delicate kiss on her hand.

Victoria's pale complexion turned eight shades of crimson in the moonlight. "And the same to you," she said, a little breathlessly. She walked up to her building. "Good night, M'sieur Enjolras," she said with an admiring smile as she opened the door and went inside.

Enjolras stood there for a few seconds, trying to process the recent events. What had just happened? He turned around and slowly started walking; rubbing his eyes and trying to think clearly. He felt as if a new universe had just opened itself up to him – a universe that was filled with light and peaceful tranquility. He felt remarkable. Rejuvenated. Like an entirely different person.

Was this what Marius had been talking about? But how could it be? Everything he had said had been absolute rubbish... hadn't it? Enjolras didn't want to fall in love. His only admiration was for Patria – he didn't feel that he needed anything else to complete him. Yet... in the moment that their gazes locked for the first time... as he fell into step beside her... He had never felt so full and so complete, not ever in his life... and the craziest part of it all, was that he had never even realized that he held any voids to fill.

"I must be going mad," he muttered to himself.

After a great deal of thinking, Enjolras decided to just get some rest. Perhaps his madness would vanish overnight.