yea, so i'm kinda bummed with my career as a FF writer cause my first 2 stories didnt get any reviews :( im still continueing A Night that Never Ends though,(thx 2 all who checked that out :D) so check it out if you want. i realized the fanfiction server mixes my words a little so tell me if theres any mistakes so i can correct them. but my plot bunny wouldnt leave me alone on this one, so enjoy! =^.^=

Disclamer: based on my writing, u can tell im not victor hugo

P.S. i suck at dialogue so if someone could give me pointers?

Eponine's rough hands clutched the icy metal of the railing as she gazed upon the swirling water of the Seine, her eyes broken with pain and despair. Fresh bruises littered her arms and legs, and a trickle of crimson ran down the side of her face, contrasting starkly with her pale face and washed out green eyes.

The gamines mouth seemed to be moving, but no sound came out except a low keening sound, tossed with the wind and carried back to the streets, where people, street beggars and bourgeois alike, stopped and listened. Her lifeless stare was directed at the cold waters, watching the dark waves and crests of grayish foam. The moon cast a cold glow on the waters illuminating dark alleys and pools in the polluted liquid.

Broken teeth bit down on a bloodless lip as her fingers became white from holding the freezing surface of the tarnished copper beneath her. She seemed lost, undecided, unsure, but overall, had a look of defeat, of depression. Shadows played across Eponine's face, making every protruding bone in her body more apparent in the moonlight.

Eponine gripped the rail tighter as she came to a decision. Her bare feet braced themselves against the rough cobblestone side of the bridge as she hauled himself up to the top of the side wall. Her skinny arms spread out, trying to keep a precarious balance on the narrow rail. Winds whipped sideways against her, swirling in treacherous eddies, lashing her sallow cheeks.

Below her, the river churned with renewed fervor, as if it could sense a victim. Those subdued green eyes closed themselves, uneven lashes resting against calloused skin. Eponine's breath suddenly caught in her throat, her body jerking as if to throw herself in, and maybe that's what she was trying to do.

"Mademoiselle, are you sure you want to waste your life?" An even, smooth voice came from behind her, on the bridge. Eponine snapped her eyes open, turning carefully to see a young man with golden hair and piercing blue eyes leaning against a lamppost, watching her almost completed suicide attempt.

"And why do you care Monsieur? Surely you don't trouble yourself with street urchins. Go back to your books, your warm house and food, leave me to my own despair. A man like you should not be seen with a girl like me." Eponine's raspy, suspicious voice carried softly, edged with a small sliver of bitterness.

"On the contrary, Mademoiselle, I am trying to fight for people like you." The man's answer reached Eponine, and recognition registered in her mind.

"You're that student, Enjolras, Marius's friend, always trying to stir the people to fight. In the backroom of the Musain." Eponine croaked, leaning down to slide off the side of the bridge, landing in a hunched position at the base, strands of dark hair falling across her face.

"And you're Marius's shadow, the one who carries letters for him even though you love him yourself."

Eponine's anger flared, a flush spreading to her cheeks, undetectable in the night. "And what would you know about love, Monsieur? Have you been in love?"

"No, and you're example is precisely the reason why I don't want to" The revolutionary's words stung. Irritation rose within her. Eponine glared at him from the shadows, resting her chin on her knees.

"Maybe you should. You'll be able to see Marius's point of view. And i've seen plenty of grisette take an interest to you on the street." Her words were layered with steel, and there was a certain venom to the word grisette. "But you wouldn't know love from my point of view." Her next sentence was soft and heartbroken, almost a breeze.

Her little speech softened Enjolras, albeit a little. "Look, go home and forget about suicide. It will get nowhere, and you might want to live to see the day we liberate France for the poor. The day when the people rise up." His voice had that same tone of passion he always spoke with at the meetings, the revolutionary fire in his eyes.
"But Monsieur, understand that I have no home to go back to. No life to return to. No dawn for me to look forward to." Eponine whispered. Her face had lost the anger that had coloured her cheeks moments , and now it look like she had crumpled in on herself, an utterly subdued expression across her face.
"Ending your life would still not improve it. Silencing the voices in your head won't solve anything." Enjolras spoke softly, yet still keeping up his marble facade.

Eponine her snapped her head up suddenly. "Are you sure about that? Are you sure that the river isn't the merciful way? Are you sure that the people will fight for a better life? Are you sure- are you sure that life will ever get better for the poor? The debased?" Her voice was cracked with sorrow and grief far beyond her age. " Are you sure that jumping can't solve my problems? Maybe it can." Her two green orbs had a hint of insanity, of wildness. "There's no one who cares for me. No one will care if I disappear. No one will ever spare a bit of care for me."

Eponine clambered to her feet, climbing back onto the slippery rail, her malnourished frame aching from the cold. She wobbled, shooting out her arms to balance herself. She turned away from the golden revolutionary, facing the turmoil of water once again, her jaw set in a determined line. Anxiety and dejection clouded her clouded her mind.

"What about Gavroche? Your siblings? Leaving this world might have more of an effect than you thought." Enjolras remarked coolly. He seemed unperturbed by the change in events.

Eponine stopped at that sentence, she pivoted to look at Enjolras again. "'Roche?" She seemed stunned by his words, and a look of uncertainty crossed her face.

Something cracked inside of Eponine. All the tears and heartbreak that had been dammed inside of her for who knows how long suddenly flooded through her veins, sending a parade of emotions across her face. She broke down into wild sobs, stumbling off the rail and collapsing in a heap on the ground, curling into a fetal position as shivers racked her body. Tears flowed down her face, and her breath came in ragged gasps.

"Damn you, Monsieur. Damn you all." She whispered through silent cries. She tensed as a hand was placed on her shoulder. Eponine gazed up into to ocean of Enjolras's eyes.

He didn't say anything, but stood over her as tears continued to leak down her face, mixing with the blood trickling down from a cut on her scalp. She eventually stopped sobbing and rose unsteadily to her feet.

"Do this for your brother. For Marius. There are people who care about you, mademoiselle." Enjolras spoke firmly. His voice carried no emotion, as if he were used to helping sobbing street urchins every night.

Eponine lowered her eyes. "I'm not any mademoiselle." she replied through shallow breaths. Enjolras didn't say anything to this remark, but stared at her square in the eye. "I'm sure Marius will be more than happy to provide a place to stay for you. For all you've done for him, i'm sure he is eager to repay you."

Eponine glared at him, but nodded, placing a hand over her face. "I'm sorry monsieur, to bother you. I'll be going." She shuffled her feet, leaning against the rail for support. She walked across the bridge, her face cast downwards. The lamplight gave a sickly yellow glow to her skin.

Enjolras stared after her, placid and composed. The gamine was the very example of what they were fighting to change. If the people of the slums could see that, and join the fight, we'd be unstoppable, the revolutionary thought to himself.

He turned on his heel, his precise footsteps leading toward his flat, when Enjolras felt compelled to turn back around. Eponine was there, in the shadows, watching him like a cat. He inclined his head in farewell and turned once more, stepping under the lamplight of the streets.

A soft whisper reached his ears, words so softly spoken that it might have been a trick of the wind. "Thank you, Monsieur."

For the wretched of the earth

there is a flame that never dies

even the darkest night will end

and the sun will rise

There it is! good? bad? review and say if you want this to be a one shot or not!