A/N Hello everyone, sorry for the wait, I got a little preoccupied with my other fic and then I was ill and then I had a nasty case of writer's block, so yeah. Just to warn you guys, this is pretty sad and has mentions of child abuse so take note.

Disclaimer: It turns out I'm not Victor Hugo. Go figure.

The rain beat a steady rhythm against the kitchen window of Eponine's apartment. The clock ticked steadily, its clinical clicks at odds with the musical patter of the rain. Eponine sat curled up in the armchair, picking at a loose thread of the stained upholstery, occasionally flicking a glance up to the plain white clock in the kitchen. Jehan had promised he would teach her to bake today; he had even called that morning to confirm it. Now he was half an hour late and he wasn't answering his phone. After a few minutes she rose and went to the kitchen to ensure that everything they would need was ready. Jehan had insisted on bringing his own weights and all of the ingredients, guessing rightly that she wouldn't have them.

Determining that everything necessary was there, returned to her seat, sighing and tapping her fingers on the armrest impatiently. She couldn't help but feel worried, even though there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. Her lips quirked in a smile because, actually, knowing Jehan, the explanation probably wasn't seen as reasonable to anyone but him. Her smile grew as she remembered when Jehan had explained that the reason he was late for the meeting was because he had got preoccupied counting the number of hanging baskets between his apartment and the Musain. Enjolras' look of befuddled disbelief appeared in her minds' eye and she giggled. Unfortunately, her thoughts then took a distinctively Enjolras-centric turn, his face, his voice, everything about him, clamouring in her head and she was surprised at the strange longing ache that flared up in her chest, a feeling she hadn't felt for a very long time and one she wasn't all together comfortable with.

The buzz of her intercom startled Eponine out of her thoughts and she hurried to the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ponine, it's Jehan." His voice sounded shaky and not just from because of the bad quality of aged intercom. "Can you let me up?"

"Of course, darling." She pressed the button to let him in. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just a bit damp. See you in a minute!"

True to his word a knock sounded on the door only about a minute later. Sliding back the bolt and twisting the lock, Eponine then opened the door. A gasp tore itself from her throat.

"Sweet mother of…! You class this as 'a bit damp'?"

Jehan grinned sheepishly and shifted from foot to foot, a squelching noise emanating from his drenched Doc Martins as he did so. His sky blue skinny jeans were darkened to almost indigo from the water and his long sleeved, neon orange jumper clung to his slight frame. He stepped inside; putting down the bags he was carrying and pushed a sodden strand of hair out of his eyes. "I forgot an umbrella…and then I got distracted walking through the park because there were ducks and they looked so happy I started to write about them in my head…and then…yeah." He looked down at himself, noticing the small puddle that was slowly forming on Eponine's grey carpet. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel would you?"

Eponine huffed and rolled her eyes, her annoyance undermined by the gentle smile on her lips. "They're in the cupboard in the bathroom." As he began to move in the direction she pointed, she added with a smirk. "I'd suggest you have a shower but since my apartment block is about a hundred years old and is falling to pieces, the hot water isn't exactly reliable and I used it up this morning."

Jehan gave an understanding smile as his hot water wasn't exactly reliable either. He made to continue to the bathroom, but stopped again, a flush colouring his face. "What am I going to do about my clothes?"

Eponine thought for a moment. "Well, you can't exactly hang around in those wet ones, you'll get ill and Joly will have my head for letting you catch cold." She smirked. "The only other option is you don't wear any and I don't think we're quite good enough friends yet for that." His blush deepened so Eponine showed mercy. "I think I've got some clothes that might fit you. Now go and dry off!"

After moving the bags that held the baking supplies to the kitchen, Eponine proceeded to go to her room and rummage through her (not very large) supply of clothing, eventually digging out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt with the words 'This is not the life I ordered' printed on it. She grimaced at the melancholy of the words but it was the only thing big enough to fit Jehan.

In two steps she was at the bathroom door (because her apartment really wasn't that big) and after knocking once, she opened the door. "I know these are a little boring, but they were all I…" she trailed off as she processed the sight before her.

A spider web of scars crisscrossed the poet's back, some of them ridged and lumpy, the red of the marks standing out clearly on the pale skin. "Oh, Jehan." She breathed stepping further into the room despite the horrified look frozen on Jehan's face. She knew exactly how scars like that were caused and the thought that anyone would willingly want to harm the gentle hearted soul standing in front of her filled her with rage and a deep, deep sadness.

"Please don't say anything." Jehan whispered, the towel clutched in a death grip in his hands. He looked terrified and broken all at once as he repeated himself, almost pleadingly. "Please."

Eponine took a step forwards but, almost involuntarily, Jehan flinched back. Realizing that neither embraces nor words would be of use, Eponine dropped the clothes and unzipped her hoody. As it hit the floor Eponine grasped the hem of her shirt and started to pull upwards.

Jehan stared on, aghast, his face a bright shade of red. "L...look, 'Ponine, what…whatever you're trying to…to do, really it…it's not necessary…"

Her shirt joined her hoody on the floor as she looked him straight in the eye. "Sometimes there are no words." She turned her back towards him, baring her deepest secret open. She peeked over her shoulder, taking in his saddened and shocked expression. "Snap."

A split second later he pulled her into a hug. There was nothing remotely sexual about the move, just a deep empathy and an understanding that could not be vocalized.

They didn't bake anything in the end, instead just curling up on the sofa and telling each other the stories behind their scars. It turns out that Jehan's is somewhat like Eponine's; his father was an abusive drunk who more often than not took out his frustrations on his son.

"My mother left when I was young, I think I was only about eleven, and my dad took it badly." His voice was soft and he focused on tying Eponine's long brown hair into several complicated braids. "I tried to help to fill the gap, as best as an eleven year old can; I baked, I cleaned, I did the laundry, tried to keep things moving. I didn't get a lot of help from my dad; to begin with he was usually too drunk to even notice I was there." His hands stilled. "It was only when he cut back on the drinking that he began to take things out on me." He gave a smile but there wasn't a hint of happiness in it. "He said I reminded him too much of Clemence, my mother, said it was my fault that she had left, that I hadn't been a good enough son." A quaver appeared in his voice and Eponine reached back, squeezing his hand gently. "The words almost hurt more than his belt."

The silence fell between them, heavy yet not uncomfortable. Eponine eventually broke it as she began to recount her own story. "My life wasn't all that bad to begin with. We owned a little inn out in the countryside and my family was pretty well off, and my parents actually okay." She gave a wistful smile. "We used to go to the movies, go on holiday, buy all the latest gadgets. Unfortunately, we spent too much, my old man never did have a head for numbers, we got into debt, lost the inn, lost everything really. Things changed after that." she took a deep breath, knowing this was where it could go wrong. "My father fell into the underworld scene, you know, robbing, scamming, extortion…and I helped him." Jehan said nothing so she continued. "I helped with robbery, I tricked people, I stood guard while my dad's gang mugged people. In short, I wasn't exactly shiny and honourable."

"If you helped, then why the beatings?" She felt his fingers skim over her back, finding the location of the marks even through her clothes.

She shrugged. "If something went wrong, or if he got drunk, or he was just in a bad mood, me and my siblings would be on the receiving end. I ended up with the most because I drew him away from the others, took the hits that were meant for them."

"Your siblings were blessed to have a sister like you." He gave her an affectionate squeeze about the middle to back up his words, but was somewhat surprised by the dry bark of laughter that Eponine let out.

"Yeah, I'm sure they felt really blessed when I got them shoved into the foster system when I was sixteen. I bet they adore me for the fact that I shopped our parents to the police and tore the family apart, because, yes, while it wasn't much of a family, it was still a family."

"Foster care is better than just leaving them to deal with it on their own." There is a hint of bitterness in his tone that Eponine couldn't fathom, instead choosing to focus on his next words. "Where are they now?"

Eponine shrugged. "Gavroche got shipped around a lot, he can be a very difficult kid to handle, but I see him more often now than I did as he lives pretty close to me. Alzema, my sister, well…I haven't seen her since they first went into care. I'm pretty sure she hates me but at least I know she's better off than she was."

"I ended up living with Courf, you know." Jehan said after a few more minutes of silence as each sat and pondered. "His parents found out when I was fifteen what was going on and told the police." He gave another smile, a happy one this time. "They became my legal guardians in the end so me and Courf ended up as basically brothers."

"I bet they only agreed to keep you because of your baking." Eponine teased, feeling the need to bring the conversation into a lighter mood.

Jehan grinned. "Probably. It definitely wasn't me practising the flute at two in the morning!"

"You play the flute?"

He waved a hand airily. "I do many things. Now, do you want to learn how to make the best muffins in the world or not?"

"Lead on and I shall follow." Eponine grinned as she threw a mock salute.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter, flour, and the heavenly scent of baking as unexpected secrets were banished by the kindness of friendship and the heavenly taste of muffins.

A/N I'm really sorry for hurting Jehan, but this is my headcanon of him coming to life. Also, I know the ending was a little tacky, I might come back through and edit this sometime, but I didn't want to leave you guys waiting.

Please review, I like reviews, and reviews will stop Jehan feeling sad. ;)