Jehan needs some love, too. I'm pretty sure I ship the strangest things ever. I saw this photo on tumblr once of Jehan/Eponine, but I couldn't do that (although, it has the potential to be hella cute) because I figured Jehan/Cosette would be cuter. I mean, come on, the guy loves flowers, poetry, and love. Cosette is basically a flower who loves poetry (maybe?). (Side note being everyone is based off of the new movie. So Alistair (he's so presh), Amanda, yada yada.)

Without further adieu, I give you The Difference.

Summary: What if it was Jehan Prouvaire was the one to lay eyes upon the fair Cosette first, not Marius Pontmercy? What if Cosette joined the revolution because of a few simple words that changed her life? One look, a string of words, fearless men, and countless lives was all it took for her world to flip.

Parings: Jehan/Cosette, Enjolras/Eponine

The Robbery Was How It Began

"Papa, that man there." Cosette nudged her father's side to alert him to the poor beggar upon the corner of the street. Her heart went out to him. He looked so cold, so hungry, so alone.

Her farther chuckled, almost sadly. "Cosette, my child, we cannot help every man, woman, and child in all of Paris. Many need our help, but we have not yet even reached the square yet."

"Oh, but, Papa, he's noticed us speaking of him now. We must." Cosette stood awkwardly before her father, trying not to look over her shoulder at the man.

Valjean sighed. He could never resist her charm, her heart for people less fortunate. Digging into his pocket, he placed two silver coins in her hand. "Since this is so important to you, you give it to him."

Cosette looked at the coins, then her father. She smiled and squeezed his arm, thanking him silently. She turned to walk to the corner, not before looking over her shoulder toward her Papa once more. When the corner was before her, she knelt before the man and handed him the coins. His old eyes shinned with tears.

"Merci, mademoiselle," his breath came out ragged and sick.

Cosette mustered the cheeriest smile she could. "Non. My pleasure, monsieur. Stay warm, please." she squeezed his hand, too, before nearly running back to her father. A tear fell down her cheek when she reached him. "Papa, we should- never mind."

Valjean took his daughter's arm and didn't press the subject. He knew, of course, what she was going to say. She was going to ask if they could leave the convent and buy a larger home and allow all the poor to live within it. The two of them both knew, though, that was impossible. He patted her arm to show is understanding. As their walk continued, Valjean took deep pride in his life. He had money to spare, a wonderful, beautiful, home, and a daughter he loved more than anything in the world. Should ever anyone take any of those things away... He shuddered at the thought.

The square came into view and the two began to do their weekly rounds. Cosette seemed oddly distracted, though; she kept looking over her shoulder. Valjean nearly had to pull her along. That was until a man came up and beckoned him inside his "shack." He asked Cosette to stay outside, in case of sickness. Cosette simply nodded. When his back disappeared, Cosette turned around and searched for him, that boy. When they had walked into the square, Cosette had been focused on nothing more than the poor; then she had lifted her head.

There he was. Standing by one of the pillars with another man, handing out flyers. He was taller than she, considerably so. Red hair was ablaze atop his head. His face bore a perfect smile. A cockade was pinned to his blue jacket. When his gaze met her's, Cosette was sure the world stopped. But then she was forced to look away by the tugs from her father. Now that her father was gone..

Cosette looked over her shoulder and crossed the square street slowly. She never took her eyes off the man; the same went for him. When she reached him, he twitched his nose nervously. The man beside him had light brown hair and a smoking pipe sticking from his mouth; he laughed to himself and walked away to another corner. Cosette barely noticed him.

"Bonjour," she whispered.

"Bonjour," he answered.

After a moment, Cosette looked to his hands. "I couldn't help but notice you're handing out flyers."

He seemed surprised he was holding them himself. "Flyers? Oh. Yes. Flyers. It's for the revolution." Cosette nodded and took the one he extended. "I am a part of it, I suppose. Joly is, too." he looked around for the other man. "Where.. where is he?"

"He seemed to think he needed to occupy another corner, monsieur."

The man looked back at her and smiled. "My name is Jehan Prouvaire, mademoiselle."

"And I am Cosette-"

She felt a hand pull on her's. Turning her head quickly, Cosette met the searching and bewildered eyes of her father. "Papa?" she whispered. Something was wrong; she could feel it.

"Come, Cosette, we must go." he paid no attention to Jehan, who stood by helplessly confused. "Come along now." Valjean pulled her arm around a corner, away from Javert.

Before she was about of his eye-sight, Cosette raised the flyer in the air. "Thank you, monsieur."

Jehan blinked several times before righting himself. "Cosette," he whispered. "Lovely name for a lovely face."

Several nights later, Cosette stood by her window, thinking of the man in the square. She curled her fingers around the windowsill and rolled onto her tip-toes. The flyer lay on her desk a few feet away.

When did it say the next meeting was? Thursday? Isn't that tomorrow?

Cosette stepped over and picked up the flyer, reading through the words for the billionth time; by now, she had the words memorized. The door to her room opened without warning and Cosette shoved the flyer behind her back. Her father stepped into, ducking so he didn't hit his head on the doorframe.

"I came to tell you goodnight," he said, surveying her room.

Cosette stared at him with a tight-lipped smile and wide eyes. "Goodnight, Papa."

Valjean moved to say something else, but stopped himself. The day had been toiling enough for the girl' she'd been helping the nuns prepare for the new novices who would be arriving any day. He nodded, more to himself, then headed for the door. "Wait," he heard. "May I go to the market tomorrow, Papa? The open-air one, in the square?"

Valjean studied his daughter for a moment. She never went anywhere alone, never asked to either. He had a meeting with one of the nuns in the convent the next day, it would surely take all day, seeing as how the nuns liked to ramble in Valjean's presence. Wringing his hand over his left wrist, Valjean nodded very slowly. "I suppose it would be alright." Cosette smiled. "What time would you be home?"

"Well, I was thinking I might stop at Mademoiselle Isabelle's house for tea. She invited me over ages ago, and I never was able to.."

Valjean raised an eyebrow. "So evening time, then?"

Cosette nodded. "Yes.." she answered cautiously. In all honesty, she didn't know when she would return; she also knew Isabelle was away in Italy visiting her grandmother's.

"Just this once, Cosette. I only want for you to be safe, child." after a moment of staring, Valjean smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Papa. And thank you!"

Cosette rooted around in her wardrobe for the simplest dress she could find. Her father was gone to a meeting with the head nun and Cosette was left alone to get ready for the meeting. Valjean had left with her a list of two or three things they needed from the market, so Cosette would have to leave earlier than she planned, earlier than she liked. Amidst all her excitement for seeing Jehan Prouvaire again, talking with him once more, she was more than nervous for this meeting. Whatever it was about, it seemed dangerous. Cosette had heard of the students threatening revolution; she'd also heard a little about the group that met at the Café Musain, Les Amis they were called. Nothing more than a group of schoolboys who thought they could change the world with words on paper and powder in guns. Cosette, who normally kept her opinions to herself, had confined in one of the nuns the previous day, telling her that Les Amis were wasting their God-given talents on recreational "sports" than using them for schooling, which was what they were all there for.

The nun, Sister Célestine, had simply laughed at Cosette, while pulling the sheets tighter on the bed they were making up. "You will change your mind, mademoiselle, once you meet them."

Cosette had straightened up at this. "Have you met them, Sister?"

Sister Célestine only shrugged before beckoning her onto the other rooms.

Finally, Cosette gave up. She donned the plainest dress she had: a straight deep purple gown, with sleeves that puffed because of the clasped wrists. Her black shoes were well-hidden and her hair she left in her braid, not without pulling a ribbon of purple through it. Cosette chose to leave the cage at home; wearing it would have meant she took up much more room and it would have been incredibly awkward. This way, she would slip into the back and simply listen.

Cosette left the house quickly, careful to remember her basket. The walk to the market couldn't be too far and from there, the café must only be a few blocks. She would make fine time. It was really the first time Cosette had been brave enough to venture out on her own. Of course, she was nervous about suddenly being pulled back by her waist and hidden away for the rest of her life, but what were the odds of that?

It took much strength as well to not stop at every corner and encourage every begger. Cosette had only the few coins her father had given her and the ones of her own, just in case. This trip was about her; this trip was about finding Jehan and.. learning..

As she rounded the corner for the market, Cosette smiled to herself. It was teeming with people of all shapes and sizes; Cosette had never seen so many people in all of her life. Glancing around, she gave a thought to her time frame. She needed to find the vegetables and apples her father needed and make her way to the café. Luckily, none of the items needed to be kept cold, so the prospect of them spoiling was not on her side.

Cosette soon found the beets and potatoes, paying what was due. Then she collected the four apples and was on her way. Although she had left at mid-afternoon, the meeting was for early evening and Cosette was soon running out of time. She had meandered too long through all the stalls and talked to one-too-many beggars along the way. She picked up her pace.

Thankfully, the Café Musain was just in her view. Orange light streamed from the open windows and Cosette could smell freshly baked bread and over-fermented beer. More than a few people were crowded around the door and several men were bringing long benches outside. She supposed they thought more people would come and the meeting would have to be held outdoors. Cosette looked up into the quickly darkening sky; they might be correct, but it also looked as if it might rain any moment. Cosette held her tiny basket closer and suddenly felt very small. While she wasn't the only woman at the meeting, she knew she was softer than the rest.

Cosette squared her shoulders and slipped into the café. Another bench was open in the back, besides a small boy- maybe twelve- who was sleeping at the end of it. Just as the meeting the started, so did the rain. The few people unlucky enough to be caught outside either turned away or made their way in. Cosette felt sorry for whoever ran the shop. She highly doubted everyone present was buying something to keep them here.

Folding her hands in her lap, Cosette steadied herself; her nerves were getting the best of her. She looked up and around the room. Young men were scattered around the large room, all wearing the same cockade. Les Amis, she assumed. She turned her head to the right and there he was again, that man, Jehan. And he was making his way toward her, a triumphant, heart-breaking smile on his face.

I'd really like to know what everyone thought. Please give me your honest opinion! Thanks so much.

Jess