A/N: I'm sorry that this update was rather delayed. Life decided to slap me in the face, and this kind of got shoved on to the back burner in the process. This was also a really hard chapter to write, but a back story was necessary for the E/E to eventually commence.

I still don't own Les Mis or the beautiful people that played them in the 2012 movie. In fact, go ahead and just keep assuming that I don't own them unless I say otherwise.

This entire story pretty much has a trigger warning for abuse. It's prevalent in this chapter, as well as a trigger warning for rape.

Eponine tossed and turned on the small couch. It was too… comfortable? Eponine wondered how that was possible. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in God knows how long. Trying to sleep on this couch was fruitless. Eponine felt like the gap between the cushions was trying to swallow her whole. Eponine moved a little too fast and a spasm of pain shot through her side. Eponine clutched her rib cage as she slowly sat up. A frown settled upon her features as she thought of the members of Patron-Minette and the night's events. What went wrong? The gang had committed hundreds of crimes. Sure, sometimes a member would get caught, but the police never caught on to which group the fiend belonged to. What happened? Eponine carefully sifted through her memories of the night. Claquesous had picked the lock on the door. Her father had paired her with Montparnasse, which ruled out the possibility of a set-up. No, if her father had wanted her caught, he would have sent her to the house by herself. Eponine grimaced as she thought of 'Parnasse. The two had been friends once. He had shown her kindness, and Eponine thought that he actually appreciated her personality, her brains. Her heart sunk as she remembered the day that she found out why he was really being nice to her.

The sound of laughter filled the woods as the two teenagers chased each other through the trees.

"And… I… gotcha!" Eponine tapped Montparnasse's bony shoulder, turned, and flitted back through the trees.

Montparnasse watched in wonder as the golden sunlight illuminated her brown waves. Eponine glanced over her shoulder and giggled at her friend. Montparnasse always gave her a head start. When he mentally reached the count of twenty, he took off like a shot. Eponine let loose a small shriek as he quickly closed the gap between them. Normally they would play tag for hours, but Montparnasse had needs, damn it. He lowered his shoulder and launched himself into the small female. The pair landed on the soft moss at the base of the trees.

Eponine's laughter slowly subsided when she realized that Montparnasse wasn't getting off of her. He was leaning over her and just… staring. Why wasn't he running away? Her warm chocolate orbs slowly searched his cold grey ones. Her brow furrowed when she realized where exactly he was staring. She self-consciously glanced at her chest. She had noticed quite a few of her father's friends staring at her chest in the past few weeks, and a couple of them had even tried to touch her when she ran across them in the cheap motel her parents ran. Rough hands on her chest pulled her out of her thoughts.

"'Parnasse! What the hell are you doing?!" Eponine's blood ran cold. What was he playing at? Eponine opened her mouth to further protest, but Montparnasse had other plans. His mouth covered Eponine's as his tongue explored her mouth. Eponine tried to shove him off of her, but he was just too heavy.

Montparnasse quickly slid his hands under Eponine's clothing as he began to gyrate against her hip. Eponine started to panic.

…

Montparnasse finished and zipped up his trousers. He took in the sight of the trembling form curled up at the base of the tree. "Perhaps I'll catch you later, 'Ponine," he sneered.

Eponine listened as his soft footsteps retreated through the trees. When she could no longer hear them, she forced herself to lift her head. She wiped the tears from her eyes and her vision cleared. What was she to do now? She lifted her head and looked through the leaves. Blue used to be her favorite color. It was the color of her childhood bonnet, of the sky, but now… Now the sky was just a dull gray. The autumn leaves didn't seem as colorful either, and each movement was like trying to move through thick mud. Eponine got to her feet, steadying herself on the tree. She thought Montparnasse was her friend, but what kind of friend… Eponine shook her head to clear her thoughts. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and raised her chin. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to tell her father.

…

Eponine shuffled through the door of her parent's motel. She didn't have to look for her father, however. He was seated behind the front desk, absentmindedly stroking his sideburns. His eyes seemed to burn a hole right through her.

"Papa, I need to confide in you." Thenardier lifted an eyebrow, which Eponine took as a sign to continue. "It's about Montparnasse."

Thenardier lazily lifted a hand. "Don't you fret, 'Ponine. 'Parnasse already told me."

Eponine felt a small wave of relief. Her papa wouldn't stand for this, surely. She was his daughter, his little 'Ponine. That small wave of relief, however, quickly dissipated as her father's demeanor became as cold as ice. He slowly stood, and Eponine had to resist the urge to cower.

"I'm disappointed, dear Eponine," Thenardier practically spit out her name, "that you have chosen this path. The least you could do is charge for your services." Eponine stopped breathing as her father's gang filed out into the main room. Their eyes were cold, their smiles mischievous, and their pants unbuttoned. "Luckily for you, my gents have just paid me."

That was when Eponine's world truly stopped.

Eponine tried to stifle the cry that began to rise in her throat. That day… That was the day she changed. That was the day that she learned to never trust anyone. She never walked into a situation without considering all of the outcomes, and she sure as hell didn't wear her emotions on her sleeve anymore. That was the day she formed her opinion of what it was to be weak. That was the day she swore never to be the victim again.

She still didn't understand. She wasn't always the victim. She remembered being the light in her parents' eyes, skipping around the motel in her blue bonnet with her beautiful doll. There was one part of her childhood that remained fuzzy, though. She buried her face in her hands as she tried to recall her memories. She remembered a flash of gold. Jewelry, perhaps? No. Her parents only used her as a distraction until after her incident with Montparnasse. It was only after this that she had to learn to steal. Hair? The thought sparked a part of her brain, but no one in her family was blonde. Well, Gavroche had dirty blonde hair, but he wasn't around the motel, and his hair definitely wasn't the color of wheat in the sun. Eponine snapped her head up as something occurred to her. It was after this… gold something that things started to change. It was then that her parents made her work, made her grow up far too fast.

Eponine's teeth bit down into her bottom lip. She felt like she was getting closer to unraveling her past, but the truth was tangled up in a mess of lies. Eponine let out a small sigh as tears began to well in her eyes. What was wrong with her? What did she do to deserve this wretched shell of a life? Her breath hitched as a small noise came from Enjolras' bedroom. She froze and focused every fiber of her being on listening. After a few minutes, she decided it was just Enjolras turning in his sleep.

Ah, yes. Enjolras. A small part of Eponine felt bad for lashing out at him after he saved her from the police. It was just that no one had shown her such kindness. No one except Marius, of course. But Enjolras wasn't her precious Marius. Oh, no. Quite the contrary. Marius was warm and inviting, whilst Enjolras was the Ice King. She had never seen him smile at anyone. Well, he had smiled at her as she set up the blankets on the couch, but it was probably just out of manners. Why, then, did he help her? Eponine was sure he had heard the police shout that "the last one wasn't far away." The only thing that made sense to Eponine was that this was a trick. Yes, that must be it. Her father had been getting suspicious about Eponine's relationship with Marius. He was afraid that Eponine was telling everyone how her father was the ringleader of the infamous band of murderers and thieves. Eponine, of course, had done no such thing. She was dirty, and not only in the appearance aspect. She didn't need to give people any more reason to judge her. She knew her place was at the bottom of society, and she had quietly accepted that fact long ago.

Eponine gingerly fingered her bruised ribs. They didn't feel broken. If Enjolras really was a spy for her father, she was going to have to hide her injuries. She couldn't let her weaknesses be known. A shirt would cover the bruises on her torso, but this new injury to her ribs would be slightly more difficult. Eponine stood and hissed through her teeth as pain shot through her ribs and ankle. Oh, yes, this rib injury was going to be difficult, but not as difficult as her now swollen ankle. Eponine glanced down at it as she continued her assessment of her injuries. It was about the size of an orange. Eponine had been through much worse, however. She slowly stretched her arms above her head. Her shoulder was sore, but not dislocated. Satisfied that her injuries weren't too serious, Eponine grabbed her pillow and blanket and curled up on the floor. She was never going to get to sleep on that couch, and she was going to need her wits about her when she had to face Enjolras tomorrow.

Enjolras was getting increasingly frustrated with himself. He needed sleep. Today had been trying enough as it was. The argument with Rupert, Marius's new obsession with a lady, his strange lunch with Eponine, the haircut forced upon him by Combferre and Courfeyrac, the headache that was a drunken Grantaire, the encounter with Eponine in the street. Enjolras sighed. It was only Tuesday.

He ran a hand through his now short hair. In one of their recent arguments, Professor Rupert had mentioned that no one would take Enjolras seriously as a lawyer with his curly blonde hair. Enjolras had been meaning to cut it, purely out of spite, but that was harder than expected. He wanted to be a successful lawyer. He wanted to bring change to society, to break the social norms, and to give freedoms to those oppressed by the law. It had taken both Combferre and Courfeyrac to talk some sense in to his head. Combferre had cut Enjolras' hair in his kitchen, and Enjolras had convinced him to leave some length to it. It was no longer curly, but it was long enough that he could slick it back to achieve a professional look. Enjolras groaned. Great, musing over his looks. He was starting to sound like Pontmercy.

A frown settled on his face as a small cry came from the living room of his apartment. Enjolras' mind was reeling. He didn't consider himself an expert on women. That would be Prouvaire, the group's romance expert. Enjolras felt that he should at least play the role of the gracious host. He rolled over, thinking that he could ask if Eponine needed anything, then thought better of it. What if she started crying? Enjolras had seen Prouvaire comfort crying women quite successfully, but then, he had seen Grantaire try the same thing and get smacked in the face. Enjolras sighed and sunk further into the bed. How was he supposed to help society if he couldn't help this one woman?

A/N 2 Once again, I'm so sorry for the wait. Thanks for sticking with me and leaving such wonderful reviews. I love you all.