Eponine slunk down the same street she had been the morning that Enjolras had rescued her from that vial man. She watched her back a little more carefully now, and moved lithely. She had a feeling that there wouldn't be an Enjolras to save her this time.

She was wrong.

Just as she turned a corner, she spotted the red jacket that she had come to loathe. She turned on her heel, hoping to go unnoticed by him, but to no avail.

"Eponine, wait, please!" He cried after her, and a moment later, she heard his shoes slapping on the pavement as he jogged her way.

"Yes, Monsieur?" she said with mock sweetness as he approached.

Enjolras looked her in the eye. "I know you come this way. I wanted to speak with you." She opened her mouth to snap some rude retort at him, but he cut her off. "Please, please just hear me out."

"Go on." She said.

Enjolras dropped eye contact with her now. He was a man made of stone, but she could tell that he was trying to appear weak in order to grab her attention. It worked. She was curious.

"Once again, I am going to tell you that you were right about me. That I know nothing about how life is for people at the bottom." He murmured.

Eponine crossed her arms, just as she did, back in the café. "Yes?"

"I need your help. Please." The bright blue eyes were begging her. She felt a certain pity in her. He was writing his own death wish with his revolution, and even she didn't want to see him dead on the cobbles.

She shook her head. "I don't know what I can show you."

"You can show me how it's like to live on the streets."

"No, I really can't."

Enjolras was puzzled. "Why not?"

Eponine stared at him. "Have you ever had to sell yourself, Monsieur?"

"What?" Enjolras asked, taken aback.

"Have you ever been so desperate that you had to sell yourself? Your hair, your teeth," she paused for a moment, contemplating what to say. "Your body?"

Enjolras shook his head.

"Exactly," Eponine said, but there wasn't a hint of sharpness to her tone now, "That's life out here. It's not something you can see, it's something that you feel, every day. Shame and disgust with who you are and what you have had to do in order to stay alive. Monsieur, that is why I don't appreciate your revolution. You think, but you do not see."

Enjolras looked at her gravely, pity and heartbreak welling inside of him. She was the very reason he believed so firmly in the revolution in the first place, or at least people like her. The down and out, the broken and the starving. But he really did have no idea.

"Have you – had to do those things?" He asked her, hoping that she would not react badly.

She only nodded before she let her chin drop.

Enjolras reached a hand and placed it under her chin before he could stop himself. Her tears were welling up in her eyes, but he could see that she was fighting them back. For the first time, she did not shy away from his touch.

"Eponine, you mustn't be ashamed. You have only done what your life has forced you to. I do not look down upon you." He tried to smile, to comfort her in some way, but she just shook her head.

"Monsieur, I know you care, but to you and your friends, I am not a person, I am a downtrodden creature that needs your help."

"You are very much a person," Enjolras told her, but once again, she shook her head.

"You're not understanding me Monsieur Enjolras. Look at me for a moment. What do you see? A creature that needs your help. But beyond that, nothing. To you and your friends, I am nothing more than that. I am not a woman. Beneath the filth and these awful clothes, perhaps I could be something special too, but none of you would pause a moment and see me that way. I am not some pretty bourgeoisie girl. Not one of you would ever extend a hand to me in passion, or with love. Perhaps if I had makeup or those dresses or a bonnet, you might pause a moment, but look at me without them and I am nothing but a street urchin. A wild creature starving on the street."

"That's not true," Enjolras said, before he really thought about it.

"Oh?" Eponine inquired, "Ask Monsieur Marius."

Enjolras mulled this over in his head for a moment. "You really are fond of him, aren't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Well, let me tell you something, Eponine. He's a fool. If he can't see you for what you are in your heart, then he is absolutely the biggest fool I have ever known. You can find someone so much better, who is worth your time and your love." Enjolras had no idea where the speech came from. Perhaps he really was as good a speaker as they said. He had never said such soft things, but pity for this poor creature before him took over.

"I am not good enough for him." Eponine whispered, allowing her hardened self to truly break. She felt no reason to shield herself anymore, as Enjolras, too, had let down his walls. She could tell.

"I would take you to buy all those pretty dresses and makeups and bonnets right now if I thought it would help you Eponine." Enjolras said.

"I would never let you." Eponine replied softly.

Enjolras grinned. "Exactly! That is what is different about you. You're strong and willing to take care of yourself. You don't want to be doted upon. Marius doesn't see that as a positive thing, and for that, he is an idiot."

Enjolras's words were kind and they comforted Eponine for a moment, but still she felt the ache in her heart where she housed Marius' non-existent affections.

"Look at me, Eponine." Enjolras said, and she looked up, "To me, you're a woman, and a beautiful one at that." He reached and brushed a hair off of her cheek. She blushed slightly under his touch.

What the hell are you doing? Enjolras thought sharply. Are you trying to crush her just as Marius does? But somehow, the answer was no. He said what he did because that's what he felt. Eponine was the embodiment of everything he fought for, and somehow, watching her soften had, in a way, softened his own marble heart. He had never in his life felt anything for a woman, but perhaps it was because there was never one in his life so deep and unreachable. Eponine was strong and independent, wily and sharp, clever and cunning. She did not need to be held or caressed or have presents strewn at her feet. Every other woman Enjolras had ever looked at expected so much attention. It was disgusting. Eponine, however, was just as resilient as he was.

Damn, he thought. Just damn.