Enjolras didn't see the daughter of the thieves for another three days, not that he truly noticed. He didn't want to check for her, his mind told him he shouldn't care, but he always found himself looking for Eponine. He'd look around to see if she was there just briefly, but he'd never see the brown-eyed girl, much to his dismay. He offered hospitality, and in her situation, why would she deny it? Enjolras was pretty surprised that he even remembered the girls name. She was just another gamine on the streets, and he'd helped a few, but he usually forgot their names soon after helping them. Eponine, however, the name was fresh in his mind.

He'd seen Gavroche around on the streets and had stopped him to ask for some information of her a few days after Eponine and his encounter.

"Gavroche, come here please," Enjolras said to him one day.

Gavroche, who was with some other urchins, detached from his peers breezily, without so much a goodbye. His blue eyes glistened excitedly, with a tiny smirk on his face as he trotted on over to him.

"Do you need more help with the revolution, Enjolras?" The boy questioned.

"Not right now. This is about your sister, Eponine," the golden haired man replied.

Gavroche suddenly went into a frenzy, and began babbling about how he was sorry about his sister, and how he was fine going out at night to find recruits.

"No, no, Gavroche. That's not what I wanted to ask you about her. She said it was okay for you to go out at night, just to make sure you were safe," Enjolras explained quickly. Well, those weren't here exact words, but that's what he took her silence to be. "I wanted to know a bit about her; I was wondering if you could tell me a little of Eponine."

"What's she to you?" Gavroche asked suspiciously.

Enjolras shrugged. "She's alone at night and she's too thin. She doesn't look well, and I want to help her."

"Do you fancy her?" Gavroche accused.

Enjolras shook his head no. He didn't know her well enough, and she was in love Pontmercy. This was just merely curiousity.

Gavroche frowned. "She doesn't want to be someone's charity. That's the way to get a slap in the face from 'Ponine."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. Eponine seemed really feisty; a normal girl would never so much as lay a finger on a man in her class. Enjolras actually found that quite admirable, she could fend for herself, therefore she wasn't weak. He wasn't obligated to help her, he knew she didn't even want it, he was just inquisitiveness. Also, he felt like no one really listened to him when he spoke-they heard what he was saying about revolution, but didn't actually take it to heart. When he talked Eponine, she actually looked like she cared about what he said, though he said little. He wanted to see her again. In addition, he was starting a revolution for people like her, and what kind of leader would he be if he didn't actually help the people he was fighting for? She could be just the motivation he needed.

"I just need to know what I can do to help her," Enjolras finally sighed.

Gavroche grimaced, clearly annoyed that the request wasn't about him. "Fine."

Then he told him of how Eponine was seventeen, she was spoiled when she was younger, but then her parents went bankrupt. She used to be involved in the Patron-Minette, but then she quit for Marius. They were looking for her as they spoke, and are trying to get her back. He said her father abused her and that he'd be awful to her, and that she had a sister named Azlema who left because she was done with her father and mother. They don't know where she is. He says they don't know if she's alive and Eponine blames herself for it. He also admitted that Eponine was smitten for Pontmercy but that he didn't care for her, not that Enjolras didn't know that yet.

Each word he said Enjolras learned more and more about how sad Eponine's life was.

Enjolras thanked Gavroche and stood up to walk away. He couldn't even turn before Gavroche said, "Eh!"

Enjolras turned to him and saw his hand out towards his, his fingers outstretched and his palm arced up. "I give you something, you give me something in return."

Enjolras snorted and grabbed a few coins from his pocket and gave it to Gavroche. The youth smiled at him and nodded. Enjolras watched as Gavroche walked back towards his urchins. The boy had a spring in his step, despite what was happening in the world. Then the boy suddenly halted and whirled around to face Enjolras.

"Monsieur," Gavroche shouted.

"Yes?"

"Take care of her, if you can," he said, his bright blue eyes on Enjolras.

Then he ran off to his urchins. Enjolras smiled a little as he walked him, taking a lot of respect towards Gavroche to put away his pride for a moment to speak about the personal things he cares about; a thing Enjolras sometimes forgot to do.

He thought hard about her all the rest of that day, against his will. He thought of how he could help the girl, and how she would let him.

The next day he saw her, with her bright red jacket on, to his happiness. She didn't seem him, and she was walking all alone, her eyes to the ground, and a hat pulled over her head. He didn't feel like going over and talking to her, especially since she looked preoccupied. Though she lifted her face and Enjolras saw her dark brown eyes meet his. Her face looked innocent and lost, but her eyes contained something else.

Their encounter had been brief, for people were walking around the streets busily, but it was enough time for her to grin slightly and give a curt nod, and him to give one back, before the streets filled up and she disappeared.

"What are you so distracted by Enjolras?" A drunkened Grantaire asked Enjolras one night as he did his regular sweep through the cafe, looking for Eponine. Again she was no where to be seen.

"I'm not distracted. Go back to being drunk," Enjolras replied, frustrated.

Grantaire ignored his sly remark and took a sip of his beer. He put his large mug back on the wooden counter with a thud and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "You seem as if you're looking for someone."

"I'm not," he grumbled.

"Is it a girl? Has the loveless revolutionary leader finally met a girl? Don't tell Patria! She'll be a mess!" he laughed, his blue eyes glistening with humor.

Enjolras scowled and jutted his jaw out. He wasn't in love with the gamine-not even close. Sure, she was beautiful in her own way, and she spoke her mind in a way he's never seen from a woman, but he was surely not in love. He didn't doubt that if there weren't a revolution arising he'd surely fancy her, but the situation is different, and he has to focused on Patria. He was merely curious, curious about her, and what she thought. He also felt bad for her; she loved Marius so much, but he felt nothing for her in return.

Enjolras knew what made him leave his coat: generosity. He didn't know, however, what made him write the note to her. He had not know what he was doing; one second gazing after her, the next scribbling down those words. Perhaps because it was the truth, he did see her, unlike Marius, and understood her.

His fingers tapped on the table as he waited for Marius to come so they could start their meetings. He'd been late everyday so far, much to Enjolras's vexation.

He crossed his arms angrily and leaned against the table, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Where's Marius," Joly muttered, after it'd been a half an hour of waiting for him.

"He's lovestruck," Grantaire yawned, leaning back lazily.

"Doesn't matter," Enjolras hissed, disgusted. "He should be here. Revolutions don't wait! His little lover can! We're starting without him." He stood up angrily on his chair. Right as he did Marius ran in.

"I'm sorry I'm late! I was visiting-" he began, but Enjolras cut him off abruptly.

"Your dear Cosette we know! But Marius, this isn't about you anymore! You're being selfish-you aren't focused. There is a revolution starting, and you sit there daydreaming. Lamarque is ill" Enjolras snapped.

Marius's eyes widened. "He's sick?"

Enjolras nodded. "But you wouldn't know, you're too busy to tell anything now a days!"

Marius looked at him defensively. "Have you ever been in love Enjolras?"

"I'm in love with Patria!" Enjolras replied.

"It's different, you wouldn't understand," Marius muttered.

Grantaire leaned his head into his chin and looked at Marius with mock dreamy eyes. "Do tell us."

Enjolras bit his lip in fury. They're all losing their focus! "Marius, we need to attack soon." Marius rolled his eyes but listened. "No one let the wine go to your brains. Everyone's life here is at stake. Are you willing to die for the cause?" Everyone shouted yes. "Our foes may be stronger than us, but our conviction is greater." They all raised their beers to that. "It's time to decide what we are doing-who we are. Are we weak men, or are we angry men ready to start a revolution? We need a symbol, to show them that this revolution isn't just a hoax, it'll be real, and it will happen!"

"A flag perhaps?" Comberferre asked.

"Yes-a flag," Enjolras nodded. "There'll be red, for the blood of us men."

"Black," Grantaire insisted. "The dark ages that'll be done."

"Good!" Enjolras encouraged. Grantaire grinned at his achievement.

"Red," Joly yelled. "A world about to dawn."

Everyone cheered.

Then a small voice came from back. "Black, for the night that ends at last." Everyone's eyes darted to the girl in the back.

Enjolras looked up to find Eponine standing there, with his coat draped around her dainty shoulders. She eyed Enjolras, and gave him a small nod as she did in the market place. He smiled a little in return.

"Red and black it shall be!" Grantaire confirmed.

They all cheered gleefully, raising up their glasses to a toast.

Enjolras hopped down from the table, and strode over to Marius, who's eyes were dazed and dreamy. Pontmercy hadn't even noticed Eponine was here, much to Enjolras's exasperation. He missed his old friend: the focused, passionate, and selfless Marius. Now he was distracted, careless, and a self-minded lovestruck fool.

"Marius!" Enjolras exclaimed.

Marius's eyes darted toward Enjolras, a smile on his face. "Now we have a symbol, my dear friend! We are growing closer and closer to fighting!"

Enjolras felt his blood burn in frustration. "No Marius, we are taking steps back from fighting. I don't doubt you are in love, you've been my friend for years. But now we have to focus on larger things; our personal lives aren't our top priority."

Marius frowned. "I can't stop thinking of her."

"You don't have to stop, just when we are talking revolution set her aside for this," Enjolras said patiently. "Now there is a higher cause." His friend nodded and Enjolras patted him on the back kindly. "Thank you, Marius."

"You're welcome," he sighed.

Enjolras then went to the back to thank Eponine for her idea of adding black to the flag, and to see how the girl was doing.

Part of him wasn't surprised that the girl disappeared, and was no where to be found.

A few more encounters happened like this. She'd appear but only a moment; enough time to give him a smile and a nod, then evaporate.

Enjolras decided that Eponine was like a shooting star. He saw her when he least expected, but just the sight of her would make him grin. It was only when he truly realized she was there, and that he was happy to see her, she'd be gone again.

Enjolras scribbled down strategies for the revolution vigorously, while sitting alone at a table on a February night. One hand wrote while the other held a fistful of his golden hair. The café had closed hours ago, but he remained inside for some privacy because Graintaire often fell asleep at his house if he was too drunk to go home. It was peace and quiet for Enjolras; the only sound was the slight pattering of the rain thudding on the roof. His only company was a candle to his right that made small cracklings noises every once in a while.

Enjolras enjoyed tranquility as much as the next person, but he often felt alone, even though hundreds of people often swarmed him with questions of the revolution. He felt as though no one bothered to know about Enjolras, just the revolution. Of course, he was too proud to admit this to himself, and too passionate for the revolution, but it was down deep on his heart.

Enjolras wrote diligently, each word possessing a powerful meaning to it. He paused and read over his work quickly, his neat handwriting making it easy to breeze through.

He was caught mid sentence when he was thrown off his train of thought when he heard a small clicking noise. He looked to the door and saw the brass nob swiveling back and forth slightly. He raised and eyebrow.

Then his heart pounded. It could be inspector Javert coming to arrest him for starting a revolution! He quickly blew out his candle and slammed his book shut. Even in the pitch black, he knew where to go. He hid behind the stairwell, and sat there, his heart pumping rapidly. Where will Petria go if he is killed now, when the the revolution is merely a spark and not yet a flame?

The door opened and made a creaking sound, and he heard footsteps stumbling in. He bit his lip in fear, not for himself, but for his country, and leaned back further against the wall.

He heard gasps erupt the air, and footsteps moving closer to him. Closer.

Closer.

And closer.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He couldn't let them kill him-not without a fight. He burst out of the stairwell and grabbed the figure. One hand went over the person's mouth and the other went around their waist. He heard a high pitches muffled scream and then clawing at his arms.

"What are you doing her?" he demanded.

Suddenly a foot slammed down on his. He yelped in pain, and in that time the Javert released himself. He ran up the stairs, tripping over their feet.

Enjolras ran after them. He got to the top and caught the figure's arm by chance and held it tightly. They tried to shake out but he took grip of the other one.

"Stop! I'm sorry!" the voice cried.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. The voice sounded really feminine, and familiar.

"Eponine?" Enjolras asked in shock.

He felt the hand shake free. Then there was silence for a moment. "Enjolras?" he heard Eponine respond.

"Yes it's me," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry-I thought you were inspector Javert, and you were coming to arrest me and-"

"It's fine," she said, sounding rather agitated. "I can't see anything."

"Yes, one second," Enjolras mumbled.

He walked over to where they kept the lanterns just in case all the lights mysterious blew out one day. Enjolras light a match and saw sparks fly in the dark. He found his way in the one inch radius cast by the match to the lantern and lit it. The room brightened up a bit. Swatted the match into the air until it went out, and then lifted the lantern up. He walked up to Eponine slowly, and began to see her. She was wearing his coat, but it was sopping wet, as was her dress. Even though her face was wet from the rain it was obvious that tears also streamed down her dimpled cheeks.

"Eponine, are you okay?" he asked kindly.

She scowled at him a little. "I'm fine... I just," she sniffled, "I'm just delivering this letter to Marius. That's why I was here. I thought you locked your door for a meeting. Once I got in and realized no one was here I was going to leave but then..."

Enjolras sighed. "No, Marius went home hours ago."

"Oh," her voice trembled as she said this. "I'll go to his house then." She began walking down the stairs but something in Enjolras made him grip her arm.

"No," he said sternly.

Eponine's eyebrows furrowed deeper. "Excuse me?"

"It's raining," he breathed. "It's raining and it's cold. You will get ill, and what for? To play messenger for Marius?"

Eponine's eyebrows settled ever so slightly. "I promised him I'd be back as soon as I could."

"Marius can wait. I'm sure he would understand," Enjolras said. "You can sleep here," he continued. "There are cushions on the couch over there. There's a fireplace near there too, so it will keep you warm."

"I don't need to sleep-"

"Eponine, their are bags under your eyes, and you look like you need a good night's sleep."

"But-"

"But no. I'll set up a fire while you go take off the jacket. It's soaking," Enjolras said.

Eponine looked down at Enjolras's old jacket and frowned at it. She took it off, revealing her thin arms, and showcasing her incredibly tiny waist.

Enjolras took off his jacket and tossed it to her. Eponine caught it easily, but stared at Enjolras unsurely. "But... Monsieur..."

"The one I gave you before will be dry in the morning. Sadly, I'll need the one you're wearing right now but the other is all yours," Enjolras explained.

Enjolras set up the fire and moved the one couch next to it. Eponine laid self consciously down on it and rested her head on the pillow. Her cheek sunk into it, and she stared at the fire. Enjolras said to make sure she doesn't try to leave he'd sit right next to her, at the foot of the couch. She laid curled up in a ball, her mouth turned downwards. He brought his book with him and wrote down in it as she just looked forward dazed.

After a long moment of silence, Eponine whispered hoarsely, "Why are you so good?"

Enjolras was caught off guard by the question. He pulled at his collar uncomfortably and looked down at the words in his book, knowing they contained no answer to her question.

After a while he answered, "Because I believe life is a gift, and God sometimes makes that hard to see; I like to remind people that they are lucky to be alive."

Eponine was quiet for a little, probably absorbing what he said. Then she spoke quietly. "When I was younger, Marius's love, Cosette, lived in my home. Her mother paid for her to be there. I treated her badly, because, well, my parents did. When I was younger, she was the poor one, and I was the rich one. Then, after a few years, a kind rich man paid to take Cosette, gave her a nice home, and loved her. Not long after, my parents went into debt. They sold everything, even Gavroche. They taught me to be a thief, and whenever I did wrong my father would look me in the eyes, and tell me I was worthless. Then he'd hit me." Eponine's voice was distant, as if she was talking to herself. Enjolras frowned and had put his finally put his book down for the first time that night. He was staring at her. He no longer saw just a poor girl. He saw a person, who was completely and utterly broken. Her tough skin seemed to be the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart. Slowly, Eponine continued. "One time, it'd been a week since I had eaten. My stomach was on fire, and I could barely walk. I was so hungry. My father and his gang had brought home a large loaf of bread. I went to get some but he shoved me away. He told me that I didn't deserve the bread, because you take what you need and life, and you earn by what you do. He said I had earned nothing. So I just sat there, watching them eat the bread, famished. It was like torture. Why had Cosette been given something good while not doing anything to earn it? I prayed then, that a guardian angel would take me in, take care of me, like Cosette. I mean look at her, she has the love of a father, and of Marius." Her face was gravely expressionless. "She has everything I've ever wanted."

Enjolras stared at her, for a moment. He put his hand on her shoulder. Eponine didn't nudge it off as she would've to anyone else; she didn't know why, perhaps because she was too tired or she felt a sense of comfort.

"What have I done, Monsieur, that has earned me this? Why are you so kind to me?" she questioned him, in a voice that was barely audible.

Enjolras patted her shoulder. "Not all things in life have to be earned, some things are given to you. You shouldn't question those things Madamoiselle, just embrace them."

Eponine closed her eyes lightly. "Did you learn that from a book or something?" she muttered cynically.

Enjolras snickered. "No, that I just came up with."

She buried her cheek further into the pillow. "So what about you Monsieur? What's your story?"

Enjolras shrugged. No one had actually asked him what his story was; no one bothered to care. He briefly went through his lifetime, thinking about what he should say and not say. "When I born my mother died. My father raised me, took care of me, did all these great things for me. He taught me to fight for what needed to be done. He told me everything, except he was paying all he had to get me into school. When I came to visit him two years ago, he was very ill. He couldn't afford medication, nor would anyone provide it for him. I begged him to let me drop out of school to help him, but he refused to let me. He told me I had to go back to school, so not only he could be proud of me, but I could also be proud of myself. I returned, and two weeks later I got a telegram saying he died shortly after my departure," Enjolras told her. Eponine propped her head up on the pillow do she could look at him while he spoke. He took a deep breath. "I saw more casualties happened over the course of the next few years; of people dying because they can't afford food, or water. I needed to do something for it, I needed to be proud of myself. So I began a revolution."

Eponine looked at him soberly. Then she did something he didn't expect her to do; she held his hand.

She sighed a little, and didn't look so well. She paler than usual and her eyes had a watery glaze over them. "I don't usually tell people my sad stories. I apologize if I bored you with them," she murmured. "I don't usually ever open up. I don't know why I'm saying this to you."

Enjolras didn't quite know why she did, or why he told her stuff of his childhood either. "You didn't bore me with your stories," Enjolras finally replied kindly. "I hope I didn't bore you with mine."

"No. You didn't. I think it's nice you are doing this for not only for hype, but actually something that's personal," Eponine said.

Enjolras smiled sadly at the gamine. He liked Eponine; she was interesting. He wanted to get to know her better, but not when she was in a state like this.

Eponine opened her mouth to say something but Enjolras spoke before she could. "Eponine, you really need to sleep, you look very tired. Talk to me tomorrow," he said.

Eponine nodded, not awake enough to fight with him. Enjolras picked up his book and started reading again. Then he felt dainty fingers lightly touch his arm. He turned to the girl, who's eyes were only slightly open. "Thank you, Monsieur, you are truly an angel sent from God," she said.

Enjolras chuckled. "Thank you, Mademoiselle."

Then her fingers slid off of him as he went back to his book. He heard her breathing become even after a little, and that was when he put his book down and crossed his arms. He brushed a blonde curl out of his face, and sighed, turning to the girl.

He frowned at her; she wasn't a bad person, not even close, and yet her life was horrible. He wondered for a moment if he should tell his friend that Eponine had known Cosette when she was younger, but he quickly brushed that thought away. Eponine seemed to trust him, he wasn't even sure why. He was positive that if Graintaire, or Joly, or even Marius let her stay, she wouldn't share information such as that with any of them. Perhaps it was because she wasn't well, perhaps is was because he had bothered to help her, he didn't know. But he had said to her some gifts are given to you, and not to question it. So he didn't question Eponine.

It wasn't long after he decided this that he fell asleep.

Enjolras woke up with a start.

The light seeped in through the curtained windows, and shined into his dark blue eyes. The fire had died down to embers.

He stretched out his shoulders and rubbed his tensed neck. His fingers went beside him and he felt the warm velvet of the couch beside him.

Then he turned beside him and saw to the empty couch. He looked at it in surprised; he'd expected to see a girl there but instead he saw his coat neatly folded. He put in on and reached into his pockets to find a note to his surprise. He smiled warmly as he pulled the parchment out.

It said his name, in shaky, messy handwriting.

He grabbed the parchment and opened it up.

Merci pour tout, M. Enjolras.

-Eponine

He smiled as he traced over the ink, and how she scribbled out some words because she spelled them wrong or because it didn't feel right.

Two arms were on his shoulders suddenly that made him jump. Enjolras turned around to see Grantaire hovering over Enjolras. "What's that? A note from a secret admirer?" Grantaire teased.

"There's a name signed, Grantaire," Enjolras mumbled quickly folding up the note before Grantaire could see it.

"Who's it from?" Grantaire pressed.

"An old friend," Enjolras lied. He didn't want everyone knowing about his little Eponine Project, they'll think he's committing adultery on Patria, because that's what everyone always assumed if there's a girl involved.

"Is this old friend a Mademoiselle?"

"No."

"You need a mademoiselle in your life," Grantaire mutters as he walks away.

How could he be so energetic when he drank so much last night?

Enjolras slipped the note in his pocket, and followed Grantaire down the stairs. His only wonder was, where was Eponine that she had to leave so early?

Okay, Chapter 2 is done!

I'm sorry it took me a little bit to update, I had exams and it was all just very stressful. I made the chapter SUPER long, so yeah.

If it was unclear, Enjolras wants to help Eponine not only cause he's a nice guy, but also as a reassurance that he is a fit leader for the revolution. He's basically saying, how am I supposed to fight for these people, when I haven't even truly helped one yet?

Again, this story is going to be different.

Note: Lamaque is not dead, but I made him get sick and them to plan the revolution a bit earlier because of the plot that's developing.

I really hope you like it.
(They have yet to develope any romantic feelings for each other, just saying)

Guest reviewers and people who have no PM:

Thanks so much for the reviews, it means so much to me :)

The Enjolras that I have in mind is Aaron Tveit, but you guys can picture him as you please.

Unfortunetly I don't have a tumblr... I don't get how to work them.

Questions? I have answers.

Feedback:

Is it moving too fast? I'm trying to make it go slow but not like it drags on, but I worry...

What character would you like to see added into this story?

I got so many lovely reviews, and for that I am so thankful. Reviews really help me with my writing, plus it makes me happy :)

I hope you enjoyed my story.

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