A/N: I want to thank you all SOO very much for following/favouriting/reviewing, it really means a lot to me! This might be my favourite chapter so far.

Éponine woke with a start. He father's hand gripped the top of her arm hauling her off the ground. "What have you go for me today m'dear?" he grumbled.

She frantically searched her pockets for the franc she had pickpocketed the night before, knowing her father would find her again soon enough. Her hands seized the coin and she apprehensively presented it to him, knowing it would not be enough for her to escape a beating.

"A single franc?" he boomed, "You've lost your touch Éponine. What am I going to do with you?" His hand was now at her throat, pinning her to the wall. She struggled beneath his grasp, her fingers desperately grabbing at the hand on her throat. Tears streamed soundlessly down her panicked face. After what felt like a very long time, he dropped his hand and turned to walk away, but stopped to warn her, "bring more next time or I might not stop."

Éponine fell to her knees gasping to fill her aching lungs. She ran her trembling fingers across her neck, feeling the slight indent where her father's rough hand had been. She sat still for a long time, concentrating on the feeling of air moving in and out of her chest before she decided to save herself from her father's wrath next time he came for her. She picked herself up off the cold cobblestones and drifted out onto the bustling streets in search of a victim. Spotting a young and lost-looking bourgeois boy standing outside of a shop and started in his direction.

"Oops, please excuse me monsieur, I'm terribly clumsy," she lied smoothly, feigning embarrassment after bumping into the boy while simultaneously slipping her hand into his pocket and finding more coins that she had expected.

The boy blushed. "Quite alright mademoiselle," he mumbled before walking away.

Éponine opened her hand and quickly counted her loot. 13 francs. She gaped at the handful of coins before quickly shoving them into her pocket. That was even enough for her to buy herself something to eat and still be enough to satisfy her father. She rushed over to a man selling bread and bought herself a bun. It was a little stale, but Éponine couldn't complain, it made her feel better than she had in quite a while.

She decided to spend the rest of the afternoon talking to as many people as she could about the amis revolutionary plans. If this was the only way she could help the cause, she would do everything she could.

Enjolras looked tiredly out the window of café Musain. The sun was going down behind the buildings, yet the amis were still hard at work. It had been a long day that started with him leading a rally in front of the café and was now ending with them going over, once again, where they planned on erecting their barricade. They needed a sign, some event to breathe life into the revolution. They had to be prepared for when that event came.

As the hours dragged on, his fellow revolutionaries slowly filtered out until it was just him, as per usual. He paced back and forth between the tables practicing his next speech aloud. As he finished, the sound of clapping made his head snap up. Éponine stood alone at the top of the stairs, her petite hands creating the noise he had heard. A small smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Very good, monsieur," she stated, "certainly one of your best."

"How long were you standing there?"

"I got here around 'it is time for the people of Paris to rise again and reclaim their freedom!'" she laughed.

Enjolras cleared his throat in discomfort. He must have said that several minutes ago at least, how had he not noticed her arrival? "Well hopefully the people will enjoy it as much as you did. We're having another rally in a few days time. Do you think you could spread the word? We had a reasonable turn out today, but we need more support, we need to increase public awareness."

"I'll tell everyone I can."

"Thank you mademoiselle."

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them staring awkwardly in different directions. Éponine finally voiced what was on her mind, "You're the first to call me that."

Enjolras' brow furrowed at her vague comment. "To call you what?"

"Mademoiselle," she whispered feeling suddenly embarrassed that she was addressing their class difference.

"Well that is what you are Éponine."

"No. I'm a gamine. A street-urchin. A beggar. A man such as yourself would not normally refer to me so respectfully."

He churned over her words in his mind for a moment. "Well, I suppose that is one of the many things I disagree with. Why should the amount of money a person has determine how much respect they are given when spoken to?"

She couldn't help but smile at him. She felt as though someone finally saw her the way she wanted to be seen. He was the most attractive man she'd ever laid eyes on –including Marius- and she knew he was also the wealthiest of the amis. He had every reason to treat her like the dirt that she was and yet he treated her with more respect than anyone ever had in her entire life. She felt an unbelievable swell of gratitude overcome her.

"You have no idea how much that means to me," she finally murmured, looking at the floor to hide her blushing cheeks.

"It's the way the world should be," he replied simply with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

"You're a dreamer," she declared, the smile on her face widening. "Everyone thinks you're made of stone. That your heart only beats for Patria… But you care. You dream of equality and you feel a great sense of responsibility to the people, don't you?" Her voice became thoughtful, "Why is that? Do you feel guilty because you were born with privilege?"

Enjolras gaped at her. He felt completely lost for words. No one had ever made such observations about him before; no one truly questioned his motives –his personal motives. He blinked repeatedly trying to formulate a response. Éponine just watched him think, her eyes wide with wonder and innocence. She was genuinely curious. No one seemed to really know this man; he seemed to live mostly in his own head unless it was about the revolution. It was obvious the other amis greatly cared for and admired him, and that he valued their friendship in return, but it was clear that Enjolras didn't discuss his feelings with them.

When he finally opened his mouth to respond, "You're very observant," was all he said. Éponine didn't push him on it, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable and she realized it was rather rude of her to be so inquisitive in the first place.

"I apologize for the intrusion monsi-" she started to say, but Enjolras cut her off.

"What happened to your neck?" he questioned, finally noticing the purple bruising on the young woman's throat.

Éponine's hand flew up to cover the marks. "It's nothing," she replied hastily, but he didn't listen to her. He crossed the room in a few long strides and gently pulled her hand away from the injury. Her heart raced at his touch and electricity shot down Enjolras' spine. He ignored the feeling and examined her bruising.

"You were choked," he uttered matter-of-factly. "Who did this to you?"

"Please monsieur," she whispered so he couldn't hear her voice break, "don't concern yourself with my problems, you have much larger ones on your plate."

"Oh Éponine," he sighed, running his fingers across the bruising as gently as possible so as not to hurt her further. "No one should be allowed to put their hands on you this way."

His fingers raised goose bumps on her skin and she had to choke back tears at his concern. Most people were so used to seeing her injured that they never commented on it anymore. Even when they had, they had never told her that she didn't deserve to be treated that way.

Enjolras glanced up from her neck, meeting her brown eyes. Tears sat on the rim, threatening to spill over. He could tell from the clean trails left in the dirt on her cheeks that she had already cried because of it earlier. He put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her. His gentle touch caused Éponine to lose it. She threw herself into his chest; ragged sobs shook her entire body. He wrapped his arms around the frail young woman. He noted that it felt surprisingly natural to hold her little body. He'd never had a girl crying in his arms before, but he wanted nothing more than to take away her pain.

After a few moments, her crying quieted and she raised her head, wiping away her tears with embarrassment. A shocking realization donned on Enjolras: he didn't want to let her go.

A/N: I was having some major writers block when I started this chapter, but once I got into their conversation, I couldn't stop and this turned out to be the longest chapter yet! Let me know what you thought!