Hello, this is my first Les Mis fiction. I have seen both, stage and film versions, and have always had little stories thought up, but never acted on them. The latest version finally pushed me to my limit; I set my quill to parchment . . . or rather my fingers to keys. I hope you enjoy!

I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN LES MIS OR IT'S CHARACTERS.

Chapter 1

He watched the "man" in the corner of the room. Enjolras, Marius, and Gavroche seemed to be the only ones that knew this was truly Éponine Thénardier. Of course, Enjolras wasn't supposed to know, but he thought it obvious that it was her. How the others couldn't see, was beyond him. She was obviously such a beauty . . .

The revolutionists sat around drinking, playing cards, discussing politics, but she sat on the ground talking to Gavroche. A smile played at her lips as she tousled his hair. Enjolras smiled as he watched the two talked. She obviously cared for Gavroche. He was glad. The boy didn't seem to have anyone. His time was spent on the streets or in the café. And he was glad for Éponine . . . she didn't have anyone either. Marius was a sick example of a friend.

Enjolras pulled a loaf of bread from his bag, and a bottle of wine. He approached the two and crouched in front of them.

"Hello, 'Roche." He held out the bread.

"Monsieur, what—"

"You've got to share with Mademoiselle Éponine here." Enjolras saw her eyes grow wide as saucers. "And here; some wine. Mademoiselle gets to control this, Gavroche. We don't want you turning into Grantaire."

Enjolras smiled and winked at the young boy.

"Merci, Enjolras, merci!"

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

She nodded quietly.

Enjolras nodded with a smile and joined a nearby conversation, eager to listen to Gavroche and Éponine's conversation.

As Gavroche started to rip the loaf in half, Éponine grabbed his hand, shaking her head softly. "'Roche, you keep it. Maman will feed me."

"'Ponine . . ."

"I have to go, Gavroche."

And she was gone.

Upon entering the Inn she noticed Montparnasse laid across the table drunk.

"Where you been at?" her mother snapped. "Your fiancé was worried sick. Drunk 'imself to sleep, 'e did! Wake him up and put 'em in your bed."

Éponine complied for the simple fact her father was with her mother. Now was not a time for her to get a beating. Silently, she shook Montparnasse awake. Grumbling and placing nearly all of his weight on her, Montparnasse walked with Éponine. In the back, there was a small, worn, and dirty cot. She dumped him there.

"'Ponine," he whined. "A man has needs."

She didn't move. She wouldn't touch him. He was a drunk and a slob. There was no way she would touch him. When Montparnasse's eyes shot open, she took a step back, suddenly scared. He stood with his black eyes full of hate. As he stepped towards her, she made a run for it.

He caught her in an alley and beat her. Compared to other beatings she'd had, it was nothing. The skin around her right eye was black and blue, and she had a cut on her arm. What bothered her most was the small bruised on both of her wrists from where he had held her still, restraining her arms so she couldn't fight as he claimed the last pure scrap of Éponine's life. Afterwards, he stood and left her, cold and bleeding in the alley. She knew very well that if she tried she could charm her way into some man's home, but she couldn't find it within herself. She would sit in the alley as rain poured down on her, and be happy if she died. But no . . . Gavroche needed her; she promised to never leave him. Regardless, she couldn't move any further than to lean against the stone wall.

Vaguely she heard a choked sob in the alley . . . No, she realized, it was her own sob that she heard. Would Marius look for her? She knew Mama and Papa would never look for her . . . Azelma maybe . . . And Gavroche would certainly if he knew. But her main concern was Marius . . . Would he look for her? Her mind shouted, "No!" and she knew that it was true. Marius did not love her. She only wished for him to love her. A wish she knew would never be fulfilled by Monsier Pontmercy.

A wish she knew would never be fulfilled by anyone.

He heard saw the woman curled into a ball before anything else. "Mademoiselle?" he shouted over the sound of the rain. "Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

Upon his light touch on her shoulder, her head sprung up and she recoiled in fear.

"Éponine," Enjolras gasped. "Oh my lord."

"I tried—tried to get away, I couldn't fight him . . ." Her eyes fluttered shut as all consciousness left her.

Enjolras picked her up gently, and quickly made his way to his flat. His home wasn't very far from the ABC Café.

Lucky for them both; it was close.

I love anything you give me! Just please, no flames!

I cannot thank you enough for reading!

xoxo

thegirlinchargeofthewords