Summary: The complete story of Fantine, starting shortly before her conception of Cosette, up to her death. Based on the musical (a couple of concepts from Hugo's novel are also present), with a "prequel" section. Multi-chapter.

Disclaimer: The title of this fic comes from the amazing song "This Night Has Opened My Eyes," by The Smiths.

The Dream Is Gone, But the Baby Is Real, a Les Miserables fanfiction by PhantomDaae1981.

* * *

...Montfermeil, 1812...

Fantine never intended to be noticed. Perhaps, if her father had not given her the genes for soft blonde hair, or if she had not inherited her mother's trait for perfectly straight teeth, the students who patronized her parents' shop would not have noticed her.

Fantine learned to read at her parents' bookbinding shop. She learned a strong work ethic, and she never went hungry, nor did she have to wear old rags for clothing, unlike the children she read to at the orphanage.

When she turned fourteen, her parents decided that Fantine could start helping them at the bookshop. And, for awhile, it was a fine situation: Fantine's father bound the books, her mother balanced the finances, and Fantine herself sold the books to the students in the town.

But, then, Fantine turned fifteen.

* * *

There were three students, all handsome, and wearing fine clothes.

"So, Mademoiselle Fantine, how long does it take you to brush out all that lovely hair?"

"My hair's in a bun, silly! How do you know whether or not it's lovely?"

"Well, I've a nagging suspicion. Why don't you come with us to Pierrot's Pub, and show me if I'm wrong about that pretty hair of yours?"

"I don't know... I'll think about it, I suppose..."

* * *

Fantine couldn't meet the students at Pierrot's, of course. Her parents had raised her to be devoutly Catholic, and good girls did not go to pubs with students.

Then again, the attention, being noticed, was so new. So nice.

Fantine locked the shop door behind her, closing up an hour early, and headed for Pierrot's Pub.

* * *

Pierrot's Pub was bustling with youthful activity. Parisian students, on leave from university, mingled with local students, and the young men worked together in their attempts at wooing Montfermeil's prettiest shop girls.

When Fantine walked through the door of Pierrot's, with her blonde hair flowing to her waist, all eyes locked onto her. The students who had flirted with her at her parents' bookshop stood up and rushed toward her.

"Stand back, gentlemen! This one is ours!"

"Let me buy you a drink, Fantine."

"This is our table; sit here!"

After she sat down, Fantine took a sip of the drink they had given her.

"Ugh, this is terrible!" She struggled not to spit it out. "What kind of wine is this?"

"Haha! That's not wine, Mademoiselle Fantine. That's whiskey!"

Just then, a young woman sat down next to Fantine, setting a glass of wine in front of her.

"Don't drink that shit. Here's some proper wine. And you boys should be ashamed, giving a new girl whiskey!"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Fantine said. "My name is Fantine."

"I'm Bijou," the young woman responded. "I work at the jewelers' shop down the block."

"Is that why you're called Bijou?" Fantine giggled.

"She's called Bijou because she's got a sparkling gemstone between her legs!" One of the students interrupted.

"How dare you speak that way about a lady!" Fantine fumed.

"Bijou is no lady!" A student laughed. Then, more gently: "Don't you worry, Fantine. We'd never talk like that about you. You're as pure as a peach, and twice as sweet."

"No, I'm afraid I'm not a lady," sighed Bijou. "And if you want to remain a lady, Mademoiselle Fantine, you best be careful with this lot of students."

* * *

Eventually, the students left their table to play a game of cards with another group of men. Bijou and Fantine were left alone.

Bijou was a cute girl with red hair, and she wore too much rouge. She was seventeen years old and worldly beyond her years.

"You've really never given yourself to a man, Fantine?"

"Of course not! I'm Catholic, Bijou."

"Well, so am I!" Bijou spat. "That's got nothing to do with it. I may be Catholic, but I'm not sheltered, like you. I bet you don't even know what it means to give yourself to a man."

Fantine's cheeks grew rosy, and she turned away from Bijou, gulping down some wine.

"You really don't..." Bijou murmured in amazement. "Do you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know..." Fantine hesitated. "Will it make me bad if you tell me?"

"You're only bad if you're untrue to yourself. Do you want me to tell you or not?"

Fantine's parents had never told her anything about sexual relations, besides the fact that sex was unholy. It was time for Fantine to decide for herself.

She nodded, leaning in closely to hear Bijou's every word.

* * *

By the time Fantine realized she needed to hurry home, she was too drunk to walk the short distance on her own. So, Bijou accompanied her. They both stumbled through streets and alleyways, giggling at the foul men who made lewd comments to them.

"Do they really think they can get under our skirts with such a stink about them?" Bijou laughed.

"I'd never go to bed with them, even if they didn't stink," Fantine confided. "Someday, I'm going to be married to a beautiful man, and I'll have dozens of children. I could never sleep with a man I didn't love."

* * *

When Fantine stumbled into her house, she stumbled into her mother's furious embrace.

"How dare you close up shop early! How irresponsible can you be, child? And who was that girl walking down the street with you? She was obviously a slut, Fantine! What kind of company have you been keeping?"

"Don't insult Bijou!" Fantine slurred. "At least, she is true to her self."

"Why are you talking like this? Is that wine on your breath?"

Fantine stumbled backwards in response to a stinging slap across her face.

"Mama?"

"Go to your room. Now. Before your father sees you in this state."

* * *

Lying in bed, Fantine watched as the room spun around her. Unable to sleep, she thought about the students who had bought wine for her at the pub. She twirled her fingers in her silky hair and ran her tongue across her perfect teeth.

Fantine had always known she was beautiful. And, at last, she understood the power that was present in her beauty.

As she fell asleep, Fantine tried to imagine herself with various students, acting out the obscene positions she had learned about from Bijou.

* * *

Fantine awoke with a heavy head and a queasy stomach. Her mother had anticipated this, and went to Fantine's room with gingerroot and a cool cloth.

"It's so important to stay virtuous," her mother lectured. "You are so beautiful, Fantine. I daresay, you are the most beautiful girl in Montfermeil. But you are becoming a woman, and men are noticing your beauty. I know the attention is flattering, but you must protect yourself from sin; it is your duty as a Catholic."

Fantine sat up in bed, the cloth falling from her forehead.

"I haven't done anything wrong, Mother. I drank too much wine, and I learned a bit more than I knew before. But nothing's changed. I want to marry. I want to have a gaggle of children. Bijou is a sweet girl, but I don't want to be like her."

Fantine's mother placed a daintily bound book in her lap.

"Here. It's a book of female saints. Your father edited and bound it especially for you."

"It's beautiful," Fantine murmured."

"Yes. He put a lot of effort into it, Fantine, because he wants you to have positive influences in your life. Not girls like this Bijou. Promise me you won't go out to any pubs with her again. Promise me you won't waste yourself on friends such as her."

"Yes, Mother," Fantine whispered. "I promise..."

* * *