Okay, okay, I changed quite a bit here. What's fanfiction all about, anyway? I absolutely love both the musical and the book, but this story's got to have a plot! So, just to prepare you for the blow (dramatic pause)… the lines "I know this is no place for me/still I would rather be with you" and the like are omitted-for a purpose, if you will.

Hope you enjoy! :D

Enjolras felt his heart warm as he watched Eponine and Henri rush towards each other, falling into each other's arms. He could see the happiness and relief glowing around the two smiling and laughing at each other, unconscious of anyone else in their own little, beautiful world.

There is nothing more wonderful than seeing one so very dear to you safe, unharmed, and smiling. Eponine, directing her gaze towards the observer, presented a smile that instantly extinguished any doubts Enjolras had concerning her devotion to little Henri. There was something in her eyes, glowing with contentment, relief and gratitude as she looked at him, that filled his own soul with satisfaction and joy.

She walked quietly towards him. "I cannot thank you enough, monsieur."

"It was nothing."

"No," replied the girl, shaking her head softly, "You took care of him; and you helped me. Why?"

There was a short silence. For the first time in his life, Enjolras the great Speaker of the Patria struggled to find words. "Henri has been a very close little friend of mine. He depends on you, and I believe he looks up to you in many ways. You can see it was obviously my duty to help him find you."

"You care for him too," said Eponine simply.

"But what I cannot understand is why you do."

"Why do I care for him?"

"Yes."

"Do you know, monsieur—Enjolras," finding the name unfamiliar on her tongue, "that I had a brother?"

He replied in the negative, and Eponine, looking up at him, found him returning her glance with one of quiet curiosity.

"My mother and father cared not a wit for him," she continued sadly, "And I could not care for him. He left our home at a very tender age and has only visited a few times. I cannot remove the guilt I feel in being so helpless to him. To think of that poor little boy, perhaps starving in the streets!"

It was clear to her listener that as she spoke, she was drawn into a memory and forgot all about him. With the gentleness of a lamb that contrasted with the usual boldness of Enjolras the lion, he led her out of her reverie: "Eponine, you have a little boy now who is waiting for you."

Henri, lying on a soft mattress and waiting impatiently for her, heard the remark and said quickly, "Oh yes, do come and tuck me in! It is frightful outside, you know. Look at that darkness growing out the window!"

At once Eponine was at his side, stroking his soft cheek. "Hush, then, Henri, and I will watch over you. There, isn't that comfortable?" said she, hovering about him and wrapping him warmly in his blanket. Then she sat down on the floor beside him, singing softly to him with such tenderness that the child was quite reassured.

Enjolras watched with the wonder of one who is unused to such motherly guestures, and in his heart of stone, something stirred. Eponine's face, radiating a beautiful peace, shone in the glow of the fire as she hummed and coaxed little Henri into sleep.

Enjolras watched as one bewitched.

Finally a gentle, monotonous breathing could be heard, and Eponine's singing ceased. Henri was asleep.

"What was that you were singing?" asked Enjolras quietly.

"It was a song my mother used to sing to me, before we came here to the city."

A silence; and then, "Are you frightened? About what is to happen tomorrow?"

"You mean when you start the revolution? I'm not sure, M. Enjolras. But I hope there will not be much death." And then she was quiet, no doubt worrying over someone who would join in the fight for freedom when the new day arrived.

After a pause, "Will you sing that song again?"

"Yes."

And the three people remained there the entire night, safe in Monsieur Enjolras's home; the girl singing softly, her brown eyes dark with thoughtfulness; the young man staring at the fire and listening attentively; the child sleeping with a content peacefulness in his face, completely innocent and unconscious of the horrors that would present themselves with the new day.

...

Enjolras stirred from his little corner and found Eponine and Henri still asleep. Quietly stepping out of bed, he walked softly to the opposite corner, where Henri lay contentedly, safe and warm under a mass of sheets and Eponine's protective arm.

He glanced at her face. She was breathing softly, the bruises only slightly visible on her cheek and under her eye. There was peace in her face. "It is well that she sleeps," murmured Enjolras to himself. "Then she doesn't have to endure the life she lives in when she is awake. It is well that she sleeps."

It was a very quiet remark, so soft that no one should have heard it; perhaps it was the tenderness or pity in which it was said, but the moment after the words were said, Enjolras saw the girl's eyes open, the sleep slowly vanishing in them as she looked at him.

"Good morning, Eponine," said he, his marble cheeks slightly reddening, but only so slightly that it was perhaps not visible to the observer.

"Good morning, monsieur," was the answer, still filled with the gratitude of yesterday.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. It's been a long time since I've slept straight. Thank you again—" she began to say, but Enjolras cut her off, with a gentle:

"There is no need to do that, Eponine. I told you that yesterday, but you're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Eponine smiled.

"No worries," he continued, "but if you please, I need you to do something in return."

"Of course, monsieur, anything!" said Eponine willingly, the eagerness flashing in her eye.

"I need you to stay here and keep away from the barricades—"

"But monsieur," began a protesting Eponine.

"None of that, 'Ponine. Please, for Henri's sake," then after a pause, "and for mine."

She looked suddenly at him and saw him looking down at her, his clear eyes fixed directly on hers. Her answer was slow and hesitant, "If you wish it, monsieur…"

"I do," said he earnestly.

"I'm not sure…"

"Think of Henri. Do that for me, will you? I have to go—think about it!"

...

"I do hope she's listened to what I said," thought Enjolras as he dropped another large mattress into the clumsily-built yet firm pile that was to be a part of their barricade. His thoughts began to slowly shift towards his Patria, whom he had not and never would forget, when he caught sight of an unfamiliar young man standing with his back turned. A volunteer, perhaps, thought Enjolras, but the man began to look frantically around, as if searching for someone, and his eye met Enjolras's.

"Eponine!" He stared at her in disbelief. "I thought I told you to—"

"Hush!" said the girl, disguised in a long overcoat and pants. It was only then that Enjolras realized there was something frightened in her eyes and voice. "Henri! I thought perhaps he went to look for you! He asked where you'd gone, and I told him! Why did I tell him? He looked so worried!"

"What's the matter?" Enjolras asked dumbly, as if one gone stupid.

"He's gone, Enjolras!" cried she, wringing her hands and trembling.

He took her hands and felt them shaking. "It will be fine. We'll look for him together," he said repeatedly, as if trying to convince himself as well. At that moment, a voice cried,

"Eponine!"

It was Marius.

"Eponine," said he, making his way towards them. "What are you doing here! Never mind," he said without waiting for a reply, "Get out of here before you get hurt!"

She didn't even hear the words of concern that left the mouth of the man she loved. Her mind remained on Henri.

"Here, give this letter to Cosette. That'll get you out of here, and serve another purpose too!"

You ignorant, thick-skulled child! thought Enjolras angrily, until another idea entered his mind.

"Go, Eponine."

"What!" Eponine was drawn from her passion. Slowly, she grasped his quiet words and looked at him with wordless confusement that cried out, "Why?"

"I will find Henri. I promise you that I will do my utmost. But look, Marius needs you," he said softly. "I will find him. Go." The further she is from the barricade, the further she is from danger, he thought.

"Promise me?"

"Yes."

She took the letter then; her eyes filled with hurt as she saw and understood the task she was to perform. "Marius needs me," she thought.

"Find him for me," Eponine said one more time and made as if to go, but turning once more, she faced the tall, blue-eyed leader of the revolution and said with genuine concern, "And Enjolras? Be careful."