Well dear readers, we are about to begin a new journey. In this fic I will leave very few author's notes. When going in to read this fic please know that I seen Les Mis on Broadway, have watched the movie several times, and have read the novel (both in french and english) All characters except for Melodie, Arielle, and Fabien belong to Victor Hugo. Those previously mentioned are my own creation. When writing this fic, the face I see are those from the recent movie-musical. Aaron Tveit, Samantha Barks, etc ... Within this fic will be several uses of the lyrics from the musical and quotations from some of my favorite works of literature and authors. These will be noted at the end of each chapter. As always I truly hope you enjoy this fanfic. Much love to you all! Read on!

Révolution du Cœur – The Start

Café Musain was noisier than usual. For the first time in what felt like months the entire Les Amis group was together. Enjolras felt a certain amount of pride rise in his chest as he looked at the group over his notes. These were his brothers at arms. Each and every one of them had dedicated themselves to the Cause. Well almost everyone …

Grantaire was laughing far too loudly for the occasion. Obviously he was well in his cups. Again. Enjolras shook his head disdainfully and returned to reading his notes, mentally preparing for his opening speech. He was distracted by a flash of gold at the corner of his eye. Turning his head he caught sight of the source of the flash.

Melodie was sliding into a chair a few feet from him. He took a moment to observe her. She was the most unlikely member of Les Amis, being a girl. A girl and an educated one to boot. She had attended every meeting for the past year and spoke rarely. When she did though, it was with a passion and wisdom of one far beyond her years. Thus, Enjolras allowed her participation.

She caught his stare eventually and quirked a brow at him. He gave her a nod and then returned to the scene before him. He cleared his throat and gathered everyone's attention. Grantaire was still laughing coarsely and Enjolras felt his ire rise. He marched over to the table to glare down at his companions.

"The time is near … so near … it's stirring the blood in their veins! And yet beware … don't let the wine go to your brains!" He snatch away Grantaire's bottle with his last admonishment. There was some general laughter until Joly caught site of Marius.

"Marius? What's wrong today? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Joly asked with a frown. Grantaire staggered over and plopped on the other side of the despairing youth. He smiled and snatched the wine bottle back from Enjolras.

"Some wine and say what's going on!" he chirped setting the bottle before Marius.

Marius shook his head weakly and Enjolras moved to keep him from taking the club further off track. Too late though.

"A ghost you say … a ghost maybe. She was just like a ghost to me, one minute there, then she was gone!" Marius rested his head in hands, emotion over taking him.

Grantaire though seemed delighted.

"I am agog! I am aghast! Is Marius in love at last? I have never heard him `ooh' and `ahh'." He turned to grin at Enjolras. "You talk of battles to be won, but here he comes like Don Juan. It's better than an opera!"

Many of the others laughed quietly, knowing exactly how Marius was feeling. Not Enjolras though. He knew nothing about the love of a woman. The only love he knew was that which existed for Les Amis and the glorious revolution that was around the corner.

"It is time for us all to decide who we are … do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now? Have you asked yourselves what's the price you may pay?" He let his eyes drift across their faces before settling on Marius. "Is it simply a game for rich young boys to play? The colors of the world are changing day by day."

He had their attention now. He took hold of the flag of the rebellion and spoke again.

"Red, the blood of angry men. Black, the dark of ages past. Red, a world about to dawn. Black, the night that ends at last!"

Yes! This was their time! This was the time for change! This … was not the time for Marius to stand up. Enjolras heaved a mental sigh. It was going to be a long night if he kept getting interrupted like this.

Melodie leaned forward, intent on listening to Enjolras. His words filled her with fire and warmed her. She believed in those words. They had sustained her for the past year. The revolutionary ideal was now more a part of her than anything ever had been. It, and the republican government it would bring, would save France and her people. It was the thing she believed in most of all. Well one of the things …

Watching the way Enjolras's eyes snapped with fire made a different sort of heat creep through her limbs.

Melodie shook her head, chasing away the thoughts. They were not appropriate now, especially with Enjolras and Marius bickering about those same feelings now. Still, she felt a twinge of sympathy for Marius. Being in love in the midst of a revolution was hard … especially when the one you cared for seemed out of reach …

"Listen everybody!" A small voice rang out through the argument. Les Amis snapped to attention. Gavroche never interrupted meetings unless it was with critical information.

"General Lamarque is dead!" His small voice quavered. The entire café went silent. The news sent a shock through Melodie. She had known Lamarque was sick, but she had been certain he would recover. They needed him for the revolution! She turned to search Enjolras's face, hoping he would have answers.

His eyes were stormier than usual. Confusion, rage, and sorrow seemed to fight for dominance within their depths. Suddenly hope burst forth. Melodie felt the force of it flow from him. She gripped the edge of her seat, knowing that his revelation would be a turning point.

"Lamarque is dead … Lamarque! His death is the hour of fate. The people's man … his death is the sign we await!" Enjolras's expression was radiant. Melodie immediately understood. This was the start. The Revolution was beginning. The others though still seemed lost. Enjolras noticed too and quickly continued.

"On his funeral day they will honor his name, with the light of rebellion a blaze in their eyes. From the candles of grief we will kindle our flame! On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise! The time is here!" Melodie felt like her chest was about to burst from happiness. The others seemed to be feeling the same for they joined in on Enjolras's exclamations.

"Let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer! Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts, but a jubilant shout! They will come one and all! They will come when we call!" The entire Les Amis was shouting together.

At the end of their realization, everyone fell to planning and congratulating each other. Melodie lost sight of Enjolras as he bent to the table to begin planning with Joly and Bossuet. Something else caught her gaze though.

At the back of the room, her best friend Éponine was conversing with Marius. He looked excited and wheeled Éponine from the room. But not before the two girls had locked eyes. Éponine's were rimmed with sadness, yet she still smiled. Melodie understood. Éponine was helping Marius to achieve his love, a love that wasn't directed at her.

Melodie sighed. Such was fate, that the two girls would be closest because they both harbored unrequited love. Her mind went to a quote she had recently read.

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

Melodie sighed again and turned to seek out Enjolras. Yes, Mr. Tennyson was right. She knew she wouldn't be complete without her love for Enjolras, but that love made her do what she could to make him happy, no matter if it separated them forever. Melodie was certain of a few things though.

She had fallen in love with the Revolution before she had fallen in love with Enjolras. He was the one to make her fall in love with it. Helping him meant helping the Revolution. She was helping both things that she loved, so there was little room for complaint on her part.

She caught sight of Enjolras scribbling furiously over some notes. He had a bit of ink smeared across his nose and his golden curls were threatening to smear the ink on the page. She thought that she had never seen anyone more lovable in her life and she couldn't help but smile.

So maybe there was a little room for complaint.

Lyrics by Boubil, Kretzmer, and Natel.

Quote from Alfred Tennyson