"Where were you, Éponine? It's quite late," a sweet but scolding voice pointed out. Éponine, who had closed the door as soft as possible and ran awkwardly to her room in order not to be seen, had to turn back to face the owner of the voice. She found an elderly woman of blonde-grayish hair stitching a skirt by the dim light of a candle. By her side, an old man, her husband, tried to read his book with the same little light. With the times being, candles were a luxury.

"I'm sorry, I was visiting a friend" she replied while clutching the naked doorframe and peeking her head to the equally empty room they were in, sitting on the boxes used on market days and stooping to reach the candlelight. Even with the partial darkness, Éponine could feel the woman's sapphire eyes leaving the stitching and fixing on her body. She drew a rejoiced expression on the woman's face.

"A friend?" the woman asked, her voice being a mixture of intrigue and hope.

"Yes. The nice part of my past," she answered, repressing a smile by chewing her lower lip.

"That Marius guy?" the woman asked, deflated. She was convinced that Éponine had let go of that delusion.

A few weeks after she was welcomed to that house, fragments of her story echoed through every room. Her family issues, the causes of her broken heart and the fact that she wasn't illiterate but lacked proper education were all discussed by the group that inhabited the house. This group was constituted by three elderly couples, an equally aged widow, a middle aged man and an orphaned girl, Éponine's age. All of them, excluding Éponine and the other girl, had been part of France's respectable society at one time or another.

Two of the elder men and the middle aged man had been university professor. The other man had owned various factories, an incendiary newspaper and a printing office. The widow, once the wife a major, owned a prominent library. The other three women had grown to the instructed beyond the social conventions of the time. But with the changing times and for different reasons, they had all been stuck by disgrace.

Destiny then joined them as they lost all of their possessions, their power, their "friends" and life as they all knew them. Soon they found themselves claiming a semi abandoned house on a humble neighborhood. It took them a lot of hard work to make it habitable. But, with hard work and each other's support, they managed to survive. They blended into the working class during the day and had deep philosophical questionings at night, discussing topics regarding the country, literature, authors and professions during the night time. And even when money was short and food was scarce, when they barely had a chair to too, there was always a book hanging around.

Musichetta, the other girl that lived in the house, arrived sometime later. At age fourteen, just when Éponine's family lost their inn at Montfermeil, she escaped from the terrible orphanage where she had grown. She was found by Amelie, the widow, during market day as she shivered in a corner. She sort of adopted by all of them, who educated her, gave her food and dressed her until she was able to work with the women at the factories.

By instructions of Madame Marguerite, the woman who had given her home for two months, Éponine knocked on their door. She wasn't very accepted at the beginning, especially since at the moment hunger was getting best of all of them. But, as they realized she was truly troubled and that she actually was willing to learn and work, she soon found them to be the family she always longed to have.

That's why, Pauline, the old woman who stitched by the candlelight, couldn't help but feel worried about her, principally because they had just been commenting on the incredible way in which she had "cured" herself from that lovesickness. When Éponine shook her head in response, she felt completely relieved.

"I'm going to see him again tomorrow," she whispered, sitting down in front of the candle and smiling at them.

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" Pauline's husband, Francois, asked in a very cranky voice.

"Tomorrow I only work until midday. I'll see him later," she explained.

"Fine. But you're taking Musichetta with you," he said while standing up, "I don't want you to commit a mistake."

"He's just jealous," Pauline joked. Francois left after telling Pauline she should stop stitching. They both laughed softly and then blew the candle.

Éponine entered the room she shared with Musichetta. The room included a single bed and an an old and not very comfortable mattress along with a trunk in which they saved the clothing they shared. Since Éponine had arrived late, Musichetta had taken the bed and was already sleeping.

The brunette sighed as she took off her shoes. She then proceeded to take of her dress and put on a nightgown she had made with what was left of two shirts that Philipe, the middle aged former teacher, couldn't wear anymore. She unbraided her hair and jumped on the mattress, covering her body with a brown blanket.

Her last conscious thought of the day was the preoccupation of not having a topic to grab Enjolras' attention the next day.

"Are you serious Éponine?" Musichetta asked excitedly the next morning.

"Totally," she answered.

Musichetta and Éponine worked together in a nearby factory. Unlike the other four women in the house, they had two days each week in which they worked only until the middle of the day. Usually, they would both go back home, have lunch with whoever was at home at the moment and take the rest of the day to read, mess around or help with the things around the house.

They were good at embroidering so both, a long with other twenty something women, were given the job of creating delicate patterns on dresses that would later be sold all around the country or on tablecloths that decorated pompous homes. It was a tiring job and pay wasn't much but it was better than nothing and, at least, the forewoman wasn't a tyrant. The other women, though, weren't as good. That's why Éponine and Musichetta didn't have other friends.

Knowing that they were going to actually interact with other people (and that the had permission to do so) was refreshing news for Musichetta. So, at the end of the working day, she managed to convince Éponine not to go back home but to head directly to Le Café Musain, which wasn't as close anyways.

The girls arrived to Le Café Musain about thirty minutes later. Musichetta was drunk with expectation. Éponine got nervous with every step; she knew that, inside, she was going to encounter her past face to face. She dreaded the many questions that they would ask and feared that they weren't all as friendly as Enjolras had been. She entered to the café drowning those fears in a sea of security. She was a progressing woman, an educated fighter and there was nothing she needed to be ashamed of.

As Enjolras saw her from the corner of his eye, his concentration on his "Social Contract" by Jean Jacques Rousseau was completely lost. Combeferre, not noticing the two ladies that were deciding whether to go upstairs or not, witnessed with surprise how his friend had to reread at least three times the same page. The other student who was there at the time was Joly, who casually stood up only to see Éponine's figure climbing the stairs. He almost faints.

"Combeferre," he said preoccupied, "I'm having hallucinations."

"What are you saying?" Combeferre asked, not taking his eyes away from Enjolras. The young doctor to be signaled towards the stairs just as Éponine appeared. His eyes also widened.

"This isn't possible," he whispered. Enjolras stood up and walked towards Éponine. Soon there was a very awkward silence. Musichetta was waiting downstairs, the two students watched in horror and curiosity and neither Enjolras nor Éponine were able to mutter something.

"Who. Is. She?" Joly said as he was about to hyperventilate. Enjolras moved out of the way and Éponine walked towards him, grabbing his hand in an impulse.

"Monsieur Joly, I am Éponine. Do you remember me?" She talked slowly, as though she was introducing herself to a child.

"Of course we remember you! YOU WERE DEAD!" Joly answered, breathing loudly.

"No, I was not. My life changed and that's why I stopped coming here. I was busy with my job and with getting an education and I'm here again," she said sweetly. The student hugged her, more as to reassure himself that she was alive than as an affective gesture. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Alright Joly...we all get it," he said. The student smiled at Éponine and told her to cut the formalities. Éponine smiled, which made jealousy sting in Enjolras' heart and ego. He didn't realize this at the moment, though.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought a friend," she said, suddenly remembering Musichetta.

The girl was on the second floor as quick as her feet could take her. The first thing she saw was the brown haired student who was recovering from an almost heart attack. He smiled sweetly at her, suddenly blushing. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't used to being around men or that she actually found herself attracted to him, but they ended up in a corner, giggling and blushing as they carried on with a conversation on medicine.

Enjolras and Combeferre, who had barely been acknowledge by Éponine's friend, sat with her on the other side of the room. Combeferre asked her a few questions about her life, which she answered briefly. Then, when he realized how Enjolras subtly showed interest on her, he excused himself, going downstairs, where he found Courfeyrac.

"Don't go upstairs," he almost ordered to the dark-haired youth.

"Why?"

"Long story short, Enjolras is flirting," he answered humorously.

I know there's not that much of Enjonine right now...you'll see in the future chapters. What do you think?

Once again, thanks for the nice comments :)

-Seahorse vS