Author's Note: Hello fair readers and welcome to my first Enjolras/Eponine fic. I would like to start out by dedicating this fic to Captain Tiny for her sheer enthusiasm and support in helping me through a tough time and for editing this. She is an amazing writer herself but her excitement to read this even when she didn't know what it was about really spurred me on. Anyway, here's it is. Thank you for the patience. She's the greatest person in the whole entire universe and definitely didn't add this extra in when she was beta-ing. (well she did but it's still true)

I also want to say that this fic was (as you can probably tell) was inspired by Florence + the Machine's Hurricane Drunk about three weeks ago but I finally found the time to sit down and write it after my homework ate me for a long time. While it ended up changing drastically from what was originally intended, I'm proud but nervous about how it turned out.

Well that's all for up here, hope you all enjoy!

"Eponine! What are you doing here? It's your only night off this week! Go home!" Musichetta, my coworker and friend insisted kindly as she filled up a glass of beer for a patron at the other end of the bar from me.

"I would if I was welcome, or if it were worth going home to," I replied bitterly over the din of the bar in full swing for the evening.

A look of sympathy passed over the face of my fellow bartender but she didn't say anything (thank God) as she set a bottle down in front of me. "On the house."

I muttered a quick thanks before taking in a sip as I settled into the idea of another night in the dingy bar I seemed to be spending most of my waking hours in lately.

Fortunately, I was saved from further such depressing meditations by the loud entrance of our best customers. The boys from the university's political activist group were a fun collection to be sure. Fond of drink and an open, amiable place to discuss their aims, they were here nearly every night. They greeted me in a boisterous manner and kept me company as I worked most nights which made coming in to work less of a chore. On this particular evening, a small part of me didn't know whether to regret or be thankful that one Marius Pontmercy – an old friend, a new addition to the group, and also the unknowing recipient of all of my romantic inclinations for the last two years – was absent.

Before I could decide, the bar stool beside me was filled by the man who would probably keep us from ever going out of business single-handedly.

"Greetings fair, Eponine," he hailed enthusiastically as he turned to face me.

"Looks like someone got the party started early," I commented when I caught a whiff of his breath as he leaned in.

"What can I say?" he said unabashedly with a shake of his dark curls. "I amthe party."

I laughed as I brought my bottle up to my lips. The action seemed to catch his attention as he pointed animatedly at my drink.

"You're drinking. Like actually drinking," he said with great amusement.

"Yeah, dummy. I can do that when I'm not working," I expanded as I could tell not all the pieces had come together in his alcohol soaked brain.

A light finally lit behind his eyes as he noticed where I was sitting for the first time.

"You're not working!" he called joyously as he looked me over properly, "And you've got legs! And what nice legs they are!"

I whacked him on the back of the head as I caught his eye lingering on the hemline of my dress. "You've seen my legs before, dumbass."

"Yes, but they're normally obscured by a bar or pants or alcohol," he maintained obstinately. "And mademoiselle, that is one nice skirt. Is there a special occasion or are you just happy to see me?"

I thought about making something up but, drunk and stubborn Grantaire might be, he was also a good guy and some part of me wanted to tell someone, anyone, and he was better than any random stranger.

"Well I was going to go on a date with the latest moneybag my parents set me up with in the hopes of getting money from but he was a creep. When he got handsy with me in the cab on the way to the restaurant, I dumped his ass and walked home from there. Of course my parents were furious. They claimed I wasn't doing my part even though I put up with so much shit from them for Gav's sake, but they said I wasn't doing enough and when I actually stood up for myself for the first time in years, they said they had enough of my ungratefulness so they kicked me out." I took a breath from the stream of anger and frustration that had built up since God knew how long, and rose my bottle. "So here's to homelessness and assholes all around."

I could see a deep sympathy and understanding in his eyes at my words that belied his usual joking demeanor but then it was gone with a downing of a shot as if he was trying to escape something my confession had brought to mind. He then was back to his usual mood with a beckoning to Musichetta, "Let's get some drinks for the lady! The hard stuff, if you please."

"No no," I quickly interjected. Despite being a bartender, I had never acquired the same voracity for alcohol that Grantaire had. Then again, I don't think anyone on the entire planet could.

But Grantaire was not one to be discouraged as he put down the full glass of some sort of dangerous concoction Musichetta had given him, with a traitorous wink in my direction, in front of me.

"Come on 'Ponine," he implored with a slight whine. "What's the point of being a grown up if you can't use copious amounts of alcohol to deal with shit?"

I wasn't entirely sure his philosophy was working for him (and I was convinced his liver agreed with me) but I wasn't going to toss a stone at his glass house since he was being so delicate with mine.

So I chose not to say anything in favor of laughing him off gently instead, "I'm good, R, but thank you for the offer."

He groaned something about me being a party pooper but didn't push me. He never did, which was one of the things I'd always appreciated about him. Instead I took another sip of my beer while he helped himself to the drink meant for me, as I began to prepare myself for a casual evening of trying to figure what the hell I was going to do with myself.

And that was when I heard the door open. Too many nights working the bar had wired my brain to respond to that little bell, which gave me the perfect first look of Marius and Cosette entering the Musain hand-in-hand, looking for all the world like the poster couple for committed relationships.

The sight made the bottom of my stomach drop out and my heart break just a little bit more.

I could not deal with this tonight. Gropey McAsshole and the Heavyweight Champions for Paris' Crappiest Parents were one thing, and all the years of dealing with them had grown me a thick skin. But this? This was a fresh new level of hell.

It'd been hard enough pining hopelessly after a guy who saw me only as a trusted friend akin to a dear sister, but being the one who had introduced him to whom he'd taken to call "the light of his life"? That was like a punch to the chest ever single damn time I saw them.

But of course I would never say anything because they were perfect for each other in every way. He was obliviously kind to all he met and she was probably the sweetest and most forgiving girl in the world.

And seeing them that night was the final nail in the coffin of any thoughts of holding on to sobriety. There were some nights that were meant to be spent drunk. Before I could second guess such a decision I took the drink that Grantaire had claimed as his own from his hand and downed it in one go.

Grantaire whooped victoriously at this development paying no mind to the theft of his drink, and was quick to order another pair for us. Before Marius and Cosette could even reach the bar through the crowd, R and I had downed our second batch of mystery drinks. My throat started to burn as I heard a slight ringing in my ears. I'm not sure what Musichetta had put in those but I was already beginning to feel slightly tipsy.

Perfect.

...

Enjolras saw all this from his usual table in the corner and found himself once more with doubts on whether a bar was perhaps the best place to hold his political discussions. But he had to admit that it had its merits beyond the readily accessible supply of alcohol and amiable staff. He'd found it was a central enough location for his Les Amis de l'ABC while being close enough to the college for them to congregate there after class. But all of these facts were secondary to what Enjolras viewed as being the number one contributing factor to meeting there night after night- the access it gave him to the people.

He could give all of the speeches and hold all of the rallies he wanted to, but they couldn't compare to the informal atmosphere the bar gave him to hold his interviews with the people of the city. Though every bar had its regulars – himself and his comrades being the Musain's – most of the patrons were transient in nature and came from all walks of life. And Enjolras was always listening and watching to better understand the plights of the common man.

Eponine was far from exempt from Enjolras's encompassing gaze. He noticed the way her eyes lit up and followed Pontmercy every time he entered. He saw the bruises on her upper arms when her sleeves rolled up as she reached for bottles from the high shelves. He could tell the days she faked her smile and the nights she let them stay past closing time because she didn't want to go home.

Her story was but one among a great many but he heard it none the less. He knew many whose suffering was far worse; but he didn't think she (or anyone else) should have to suffer as she did. It was for the people like her that he hoped to give a voice to with his ideals of an upheaval of the current political class system.

But that time was yet to come, so for now he simply watched and that night was no exception. Unlike Grantaire, Enjolras immediately noticed that Eponine was on the wrong side of the counter to be working. Her short skirt and high heels spoke of higher hopes, yet her mere presence, not to mention the slump of her shoulders, told the story of plans gone wrong. Why else, after working seven nights in a row would she be here again with no company save a beer bottle and a sad smile?

He was glad to see Grantaire go keep her company as he settled in with Combeferre at his table with his books, but he resolved to keep an eye on her throughout the evening. It seemed that no sooner had he made this resolution than a tinkling from the front indicated a new arrival. With one glance at Eponine, Enjolras knew immediately who it was without laying eyes on his classmate or the beautiful blonde.

And as troubling as it was to see her down drinks like her life depended on it, it was nothing compared to how the next few hours went. He kept waiting for her to pull herself together but she seemed to following Grantaire down the dangerous path of drinking away their feelings. She was doing shots and acting ridiculous: she and R seemed to be holding a competition over who could embarrass themselves the most thoroughly. And from a young woman who normally had such a level head and sense of reasoning, it was deeply troubling to Enjolras. He wanted to stop her but it wasn't his place. He wasn't her guardian, case worker, boyfriend, or brother, and he had no claim on her life to tell her how to behave or how to deal with her problems. He felt intense gratitude towards Musichetta when she cut them off but they were both already so wasted that they weren't to be put off by such a restriction. They still carried on like fools and Enjolras was finding it harder and harder to pay attention to his research or Combeferre's patient discussions with him.

By 2 o'clock in the morning most of the other patrons had trickled out but Enjolras' eye kept being diverted by the rambunctious drunk duo when suddenly Grantaire ambled over to their table. He claimed he had the best idea for their coming revolution.

Grantaire then proceeded to start tipping over the little tables and chairs to make a small barricade between the table in the corner and the door. And as amusing as his reenactment of France's tumultuous past was, Grantaire was slurring something fierce and was making such a noise that to Enjolras' not quite so intoxicated mind was excessively loud and not quite as clever as it might have been otherwise. So distracted was he by Grantaire's stirring and not at all mocking attempts at a revolution in the Musain, that it was a good three minutes before he realized something was off: Grantaire's partner in crime and fellow revolutionary was no longer in the pub.

Normally Enjolras would not have been worried; Eponine was a very capable and street-smart girl and he'd seen her knee more than a few unruly patrons in the crotch when they got too intimate, but she wasn't herself tonight. She was highly inebriated and not in her right mind and here it was in the hours of the night when Paris' least reputable citizens roamed the streets. He couldn't help the surge of concern he felt in that moment so before he knew it he was attempting to scale R's intoxicated barricade with Combeferre's help and was out the door as quickly as he could.

"Enjolras, what is it?" Combeferre asked worriedly as he followed his friend out into the night.

"Eponine," he answered immediately. "She left the bar."

Fortunately, no other explanations were necessary as he could see in his friend's eyes that he understood the situation completely and quickly helped him scan the streets for the missing drunk girl.

...

I had just wanted a smoke – my filthy habit – but the bar was suddenly too loud for me to think or find my pack. My skirt was too short and the pockets were too small and I suddenly felt that I was too high from the ground in my skyscraper shoes. So when R started his revolution I felt a need for a little change of my own and my bleary mind decided that the floor inside the bar was far too dirty to go barefoot in, but obviously the alley out back was much better.

Taking the mile high things off my feet was much harder than it should have been. I stumbled a lot. Somehow I staggered down the alley and down another street as I tried to find the best place to put my shoes and find my smokes.

It just all felt very silly and strange, and the world was spinning. Did I stumble onto a merry-go-round? When did the circus come to town? It must have, for there was the knife thrower and the trained bear coming towards me from off stage. The knife-thrower wasn't as showy as I'd remembered and the bear was leaner and less furry than he should have been.

I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of a mostly hairless bear. He growled at me as if he could understand me; perhaps the circus animals were much more intelligent than most. The knife thrower grabbed my arm and brandished his blade dramatically in my face. This all seemed off somehow. I didn't remember volunteering for a demonstration.

He started to growl something in my ear. That was certainly odd, wasn't it? I thought the bear was supposed to be the one who growled. I wasn't sure though, my head was still ringing and I thought I could hear the sounds of the carnival echoing in my head.

The world was still spinning but they were gripping far too tight. I would have to have a talk with the ring leader about proper showmanship, because the knife man needed to work on his people skills. The growls were growing louder and I wasn't having fun anymore. I'd never been good in front of crowds and I didn't trust this knife man anymore. I didn't think I wanted to run away and join the circus like I had as a child after all. This act was far too close for comfort and the bear didn't seem very tame to me.

I tried to voice my protestations; my requests that they find another volunteer, but the unfriendly circus folk would have none of it and started pinning me against the wall anyway. But before I could say anything else, there was a shout from the crowd and I could see the lion-tamer entering the ring. Or maybe it was just the lions? All I could hear were roars and all I could see was a short golden mane advancing towards us. The unfriendly knife-thrower didn't seem daunted at first with his trained bear on my other side but then there was an explosion to my left as the human cannonball exploded into the ring.

Was this the grand finale? I'd never seen so many acts on stage together at once.

The knife man must have agreed and taken the hint that his act had run on too long because suddenly he let me go forcefully and retreated back into the dark with his growling bear in tow. Something wasn't right though, the knife thrower clearly wasn't a professional because my arm hurt more than it should and I found myself falling to the ground, head banging against the wall as I went.

Someone really should see about taking the circus off the merry go round it was making my head spin horribly.

...

In the minutes Combeferre and Enjolras spent searching the surrounding streets and alleys for Eponine, Combeferre couldn't help but notice the intense look of worry on his friend's face throughout the search. Not that he could blame him; his own heart had kicked into double time at the contemplation of what might find the young woman in the dark in the state she was in. He hardly allowed himself to think on the awful what-ifs and instead he let his thoughts wander to Enjolras. The situation made him think on what people said about the young man; the whispers that he was made of marble. And in times like this Combeferre couldn't think them more false.

It was true Enjolras was devoted to his cause and the first to quash diverting talks of love and feelings during the meetings, but that wasn't because he didn't have any; far from it. He had more compassion than nearly any other Combeferre had ever seen, he was just better at masking them or channeling them into more productive action. Enjolras had never seen the use of mooning over feelings or discussing them pointlessly. Why talk about how you feel when you can do something with them? He'd always been good about focusing his passion and his fire and utter concern for his fellow man into fruitful deeds.

This was but one such occasion in which Enjolras had gone out of his way to help people in situations lesser than his. Combeferre knew Enjolras was well off and technically out of the class of most of the people around him, but he never acted like that. He didn't live luxuriously. He didn't care for clothes or a fancy apartment, or even a car. He was content enough to walk and wear whatever was most sensible. He didn't indulge in Starbucks or fine dining – in fact he would on occasion forget to eat if someone didn't remind him. He had such a large compassion and intellect, it was a wonder it could fit into his frame and Combeferre felt privileged to be Enjolras's friend and confidant.

But, with all of his friend's careful observations and understanding, there were some things even he was blind to, and one of which was the great amount of notice he'd been paying to the slight, dark-haired bartender as of late. Combeferre was of the extreme belief that Enjolras wasn't even aware of the extra attention; of the way his eyes would dart to Eponine during the long nights spent at the Musain. If it had been anyone else Combeferre might have brought it up, suggested that his friend might make something of it. But this was Enjolras.

Enjolras had many times insisted that he wasn't looking for a relationship, that such a bond would distract him from what needed to be done. Combeferre agreed with Enjolras on most important matters but this was one such occasion that he thought Enjolras was wrong. A relationship didn't mean that nothing else was important, or that it was either the relationship or your goals as Enjolras had believed. A relationship could strengthen you; drive you to be a better person; could combine with your goals and help you achieve them better in ways you couldn't imagine. And Combeferre silently believed that such a connection with Eponine would be really good for the pair.

Of course he would never say anything, but tonight at seeing the near panic in Enjolras' eyes at realizing Eponine was missing, Combeferre prayed for his friend's sake that they'd find the girl in one piece.

In the end it was the giggling that helped the men find her. The giggling that had been wafting through the light atmosphere of the bar for the last few hours, the giggling that had made Enjolras smile unconsciously more than once. But it was so out of place here in the dark, gritty streets that smiling was the farthest thing from Enjolras' mind as he rounded the corner to find the young woman, insensible and pushed against the wall as two thugs surrounded her, one with a knife pressed to her cheek.

The growl that came forth from Enjolras was instinctual and immediately caught the attention of the muggers. The skeevy looking one with the blade clutched her arm tighter, though she seemed too out of it to notice, but for a pinch of her brow. Combeferre and Enjolras advanced; the latter calling out a warning to release her. The ruffians looked as though they wanted to put up a fight, as if they felt they could take the two on as they were evenly numbered.

But then there was a mighty smash as Combeferre saw what looked like a bottle of beer flying through the air before it smashed against the alley wall not too far from where the miscreants were guarding Eponine. Fortunately, such an assault convinced them that the girl wasn't worth the trouble and they dispersed into the night. While Enjolras' eyes were only for the girl as she slumped to the ground, Combeferre looked about to find the source of the projectile and was surprised to see Grantaire with a disoriented look of great distress on his face at the sight of his fallen friend.

Neither man said anything as they quickly joined Enjolras where he was crouched beside the young woman but Combeferre could practically feel the guilt radiating off of Grantaire as he took in her current state. Enjolras was cupping her head, supporting it away from the harsh brick wall and her eyelids were fluttering open and closed. Her legs that had been so admired earlier that evening were grimy from the dirt of the streets and her hair was tousled but it was the dark bruises forming on her arm where she'd been gripped that made their stomachs turn so violently.

Enjolras had to suppress the urge to not hunt down the bastards who tried to take advantage of her and instead focused on trying to get her to respond to him.

"Eponine," he said softly but insistently, one hand holding the back of her head, the other cupping her cheek lightly to try to return her to her senses. "Can you hear me?"

She blinked several times, before finally forcing her eyes open to look about slowly with confusion and worry, "Where did the lions go?"

Enjolras paused. Did she have a concussion? He looked to Combeferre for how to respond to this and noticed Grantaire for the first time. The dark curly haired man wore a borderline distraught face but Enjolras had no time nor interest in worrying about his perpetually drunk roommate just then. He returned his attention to Eponine trying to soothe her and calm the frantic way her eyes seemed to be darting about.

"There are no lions here. You're safe," he assured her as calmly as he could, before adding on worriedly, "Are you alright?"

She groaned as she seemed to becoming more aware, but her reactions were still slow and she was slow to respond. "My head…"

She moved a hand to up to the back of her head where she had hit it against the wall on her way down. Enjolras' heart seemed to go into double time as he watched her fingers return, darkened with blood.

He took in a sharp inhale of breath and tried to continue on as business-like as he could, "will you be okay? Do you need a hospital?"

She might not have been 100% but she knew she didn't have the money for a hospital visit, no matter how much her head was ringing. "No, no hospitals, please."

Enjolras wasn't sure if that was the best decision but after what just happened he wasn't going to try to force her to do anything she didn't want to. "Okay, no hospitals."

He was stymied, feeling more and more useless by the moment. He wanted to help, he just didn't know how. He turned to the others once more, "do either of you know where she lives? She needs some rest."

Eponine moaned louder than she had since the assault as her brain pieced together what Enjolras was suggesting. The vague memory of her fight with her parents that evening that had led to all this came to the surface. She didn't care if this head wound was throbbing horribly, there was no way she was going back there.

But of course everything was still far too fuzzy and painful for her to voice any of this, and she only managed to get out another weak protestation.

Enjolras was alarmed at this and shot a glance to the other two for ideas. Grantaire spoke up; his voice hollow as all vestiges of intoxication from just 20 minutes ago completely faded away.

"Her parents kicked her out tonight." He told the others somberly, "that's why she was at the bar."

Enjolras couldn't help but bow his head at that. He'd known something was off; something was different, and his tendency to take the world on his shoulders had him blaming himself for not figuring it out and keeping it from coming to this, even as the rational part was yelling that there was nothing he could have done.

He looked down on her as he removed his hand from her face as she rubbed her eyes blearily, groaning as she moved her head. He just didn't know what was to be done and that frustrated him.

He didn't look up but he directed his voice over his shoulder, "What do we do?"

There was a beat of silence before Combeferre spoke up for the first time since this all started. "We could take her back to our place."

Enjolras met his gaze in surprise. Could they do that? It seemed like their best option given her homeless state and her refusal of a hospital. He looked back at the girl in front of him who hadn't responded but he wasn't sure she'd even heard the soft spoken man.

"Would that be alright?" he asked her quietly, trying to be mindful of his volume.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, to focus on the words he was saying so earnestly. She tried to remember the context of the question but everything was too blurry. He seemed to catch the inquiry in her eyes because he expanded, "Would you be okay with coming home and staying with us?"

She didn't say anything for a long minute, a minute in which she tried to figure out if that was okay with her and a minute in which none of the three men breathed.

Finally and haltingly she nodded, "Anywhere but my parents' house."

Enjolras gave a curt nod, determined to keep her away from such poisonous people as long as he could; as long as she would let him. And with that, he rose before carefully leaning down to help her up. Her legs were fine other than a little sore, but she was still so unsteady between the booze from earlier and the head injury and she swayed more than Enjolras would have liked. If he had his way he would have picked her off her feet and carried her to their car down the block, but he knew Eponine had always been very prideful and even in such a state as she was, she wouldn't have been able to handle such a treatment. So instead Enjolras nodded Combeferre over to her other side and the two of them helped support her weight as she stumbled uncoordinatedly between them. Like some contestants for a bizarre five legged race, the three of them made their way slowly and carefully down the dark alley.

Grantaire hung back a little bit, regret and guilt choking him. His head drooped in shame, his gaze boring into the uneven asphalt when his eyes alighted on Eponine's high heels he had admired so much earlier that night discarded on the ground just like all of the fun from earlier in the evening. Almost on dejected autopilot, he bent down to pick up the footwear and turned to follow the others as they made their slow way home, his mind counting up all the ways this horrible incident was his fault.

Author's note: okay so let me just say that was longer than I thought it would be and the funny thing is this is all I meant to write but as I've been getting to the end my muse has decided to whisper "hey Fin, I know what happens next. You should write it. It'll be great, you can't end there." Damn it. I don't know when I'll have time to get to it but I think I have to right a sequel or continuation or something because damn I'm not sure I can leave it there. Especially with R feeling so guilty.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. It was a bit of an experiment in several different ways. Like the whole attempted assault scene was very strange and different from what I normally write but part of me didn't want to write it in a conventional way and then suddenly my Muse started comparing it to a circus and there you go. I know it was a little out there but I hope you liked it. Combeferre's role was also expanded. He initially didn't have an internal monologue about Enjolras and originally Grantaire didn't accompany them to find Eponine but then he showed up and it really worked.

Okay I'll shut up now but I hope you enjoyed it.

Please be nice.

EDIT: This chapter used to be called Hurricane Drunk and have the song lyrics interspliced but I recently decided that that wasn't the direction I wanted to go with this story what with each chapter being shaped around a song so I deleted the lyrics and changed the chapter titles but it's still the same fic!