A/N: Les Miserables belongs to Victor Hugo, not me.

She still works the streets, even though it's been months since he let her stay. The money she collects in her line of work lays abandoned in a pile on the kitchen counter. She says she is paying her rent, but he refuses to touch the money. Though it's not like that stopes her.

He knows her routine by heart now. She arrives home just before three in the morning. He knows she tries to be quiet but is woken by the soft sound of her closing the front door. He would rather be woken life this than sleep until he wakes, terrified that she hasn't returned home. On the nights when this would happen (mostly at the start of their arrangement as now he was unable to sleep right through the night,) he would lumber out of his warm bed and over to the lounge in the living room where he would always find her, curled up in a ball and sound asleep.

After he wakes to the sound of a closing door, he counts three seconds before he hears several coins drop to the counter. It makes him cringe. He would rather she return home empty handed as it would mean she had no business. She encompasses everything he was fighting for, but he couldn't even keep the girl he was living with from spending her nights walking the streets. She encompasses every way his revolution is failing. The rich (or at least some of them) were willing to help; it was the poor who were unwilling to listen.

He has tried many ways to make her stay. He served dinner at ten thirty, so she would eat at lightening speed and be gone by eleven. He's tried bringing her to the café, but he would look over in her direction and some time during the night (he's not quite sure exactly when) she vacates and returns home as always, just before three. He's even told her not to go but she just stares blankly at him "Monsieur Enjolras, I will not owe you anything" and without another word she leaves.

She thinks he is asleep and tiptoes into his room and then into the bathroom. She prepares her bath in the dark, ever careful not to wake him. He hears every pot of water as it enters the tub. He hears her tattered clothes hit the floor and her body slip into the warm water. He listens to the soft, relaxing movement of the water as she tries to scrub herself clean from the night's activities. But she's no longer ashamed of her actions. Rather she is resigned to the fact that this is her life, and there really isn't a whole lot she can do about it. She doesn't believe it can or will get any better. For the first time in years she has a warm place to sleep, eats at least three times a day and bathes regularly. To her, this is luxury.

One night he hears the soft sound of muffled sobs coming from inside the bathroom. At first he just listens. The sound makes him feel completely hopeless, as if he couldn't even dream to comprehend. And the truth is, it does. He doesn't understand the people he so valiantly fights for. He tries his best to block her cries out, but just as it seems to stop she starts again, possibly crying harder than ever.

He rises and knocks on the door; the girl behind it immediately falls silent. He enters, eyes avert to the ground to preserve her modesty. She is silent. He looks up to see the outline of her neck and head in the moonlight. He slides down and sits in the doorway.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

Silence

"Monsieur, I am terribly sorry for waking you, I promise Monsieur it will not happen again." He can't help but notice how terrified she sounds. Her voice quivers, as she speaks, no louder than a whisper.

"It's quite alright, as long as your home safely" he begins to get up, sensing that she isn't very comfortable in his presence.

"Thank you Monsieur" her voice trembles and he can't help but wonder if the girl is terrified of him, and if so, why?

She tries her best to tiptoe out of the bathroom and bedroom without waking the sleeping man. She is almost out when she hears him whisper her name, his voice full of sleep. She stops, completely frozen "stay here tonight". She is initially confused, she stays in his apartment every night but then it dawns on her. He is on the right side of the bed, not the centre where he usually sleeps, and there is a pillow on the left.

Tentatively she walks over to the bed and slips between the soft sheets. She lies there, awake, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. She has only ever been invited into a man's bed for one reason. Perhaps Patria is no longer a suffice mistress for the marble leader. She can see his outline, faced away from her but she lies there, rigid, her eyes wide open. It is only when she hears the soft sound of his snores that she can relax, close her eyes and attempt to sleep. She can't help but think of how much warmth is generated when sleeping alongside another.

He notices this too when he wakes the next morning, but this thought is immediately replaced by another. He looks over at the tiny girl in his bed, her arms are covered in cuts and bruises, one of her eyes is turning a foul purple colour and her jaw is swollen. He then notices the hand marks around her neck. He feels sick. Rising quickly he calls for Joly, someone far more apt at tending to her wounds. They arrive back before she has woken and waits. Joly has a thousand questions that he doesn't ask, the main one being "so what is the girl doing at your house?" but Enjolras doesn't seem in the mood for talking.

When she finally wakes, Joly rushes in and asks her what happened. She just shrugs nonchalantly "Some guys like it rough."

Joly is surprised. He always knew Eponine was part of the Parisian underworld, but he had convinced himself that it was in a more innocent way – picking pockets and steeling bread. But there she was, lying before him, the true gritty side of Paris. The city, which they loved, the city, which they were fighting for, was eating this woman alive.

All he could do was prescribe bed rest and lots of it. As he goes to leave Enjolras is fumbling around for his wallet. Enjolras notices him eyeing the large amount of money just sitting abandoned on the counter "It's Eponine's" and for once Joly understand Enjolras and remains silent.

That night when she tries to leave he does her best to stop her. He quotes Joly, tries standing between her and the doorway until she threatens to knee him in a place causing the type of pain not even he can withstand. Her face is swollen; she is almost unrecognisable and is walking with a limp. She looks back at him and tries to smile "maybe someone will take pity on me" he doesn't reply. She pulls her coat tightly around her and leaves. He can't stand to look at her. It's one of the first times in his life he feels weak. He is angry with her for going but even angrier with himself for allowing her to leave.

That night he wakes as she arrives home, drops the money on the counter and bathes. Again, she has almost left his room when he invites her to sleep alongside him. Just like the previous night she waits to hear the soft sound of his snores before allowing herself to relax and eventually fall asleep.

Soon enough, they fall into this pattern.

One morning he rises early to buy a new dress for her. He has no idea about women's clothes so he calls on Courfeyrac for assistance. He immediately regrets it. He is badgered with a thousand questions, which he notices are all just variations of the same one "Who is she?"

If it were any of the boys other than Courfeyrac he would tell them that it was for his sister. But he went to school with Courfeyrac from the age of six. They were family friends and he knew that Enjolras was an only child. Eventually he snaps, "It's for Eponine."

Coufreyrac is shocked, confused and now has even more questions to ask than before. But he doesn't. Over the years he has learnt not to push Enjorlas on topics he does not want to divulge much information. So he helps her pick a dress. They choose a white one, with some pale pink stitching. It is simple and inexpensive but Enjolras is happy that she won't be walking around the house in a dress which has gaping holes from where men have attempted to literally tear it from her body.

"So how long have you two been… together" Courfeyrac finally musters up the courage to ask as they walk back to their apartment.

"We're not" Enjolras replies shortly "She lives in my apartment, it's better than the streets."

When he arrives home she's still asleep. He leaves the dress on his desk and goes to university. He arrives home to see her wearing the dress. It is far too big and hangs loose around her shoulders and waist but he cant help but think how she no longer looks like a starving street urchin. His hopes rise and he thinks she might stay in for the night. After dinner they retire to the lounge, each picking a book to read before they separately curl up on the lounge. But these hopes are quickly dashed. Not long after the sun sets she rises and disappears into his room. She emerges in her street clothes and leaves without saying a word. He can't stand to look at her.

He waits, unable to sleep until she arrives home. He decides to read ahead in some of his university books and quickly turns the lamp off, pretending to sleep when he hears her keys in the door. After bathing she crawls into his bed, no longer needing to be prompted and he lies there, enjoying the warmth that radiates from her body. Eventually he turns over, she is sleeping, her figure illuminated by the moonlight and he can't help but stare at how beautiful she is.

Months pass and there is so much money that it has taken up the whole counter. While fetching them tea he accidentally knocks some of it to the ground. She notices the look of disgust on his face and how he walks past without even as much as a second glance or an attempt to pick it up.

She hates him.

When he arrives back at the lounge she hisses at him to get away from her. He tries to comfort her and her hisses become shrieks as she darts to the other side of the room as far away as she can possibly get from him.

He is confused, so confused in fact that he considers going to call on Joly but he can't help but feel that whatever she is feeling can't be healed by something in Joly's briefcase so he just sits there, confused, asking her what's wrong but receiving no answers.

She is as fickle as his revolution, which at times seems like a certain success and at others like a march to his death. He almost feels the same way about her. Sometimes he thinks he is fixing her, perhaps guiding her to a life off the streets and at other times he thinks she is driving them both to an early death.

Why can't he just accept what she is doing for him she asks herself? Every disgusted glance down at the money is a disgusted glance down at her. Why can't he just accept what she is doing for him? Why can't he just accept her?

That night they eat in silence, well; she remains silent as he tries to ask her what's wrong. He truly has no idea what set her off. At sunset she changes and leaves wordlessly. He shakes his head, he's so confused.

That night she returns home, she tiptoes past his room and bathes. When she tries to leave he calls out to her, but she ignores him. He hears the door shut and assumes she has chosen to sleep on the couch. That night he can't sleep. He lies awake in his ice-cold bed, wondering if she is missing his presence as much as he is missing hers. He rolls over, wishing to see her figure next to him in the moonlight but the bed is empty.

It feels like it has been hours when he finally decides to rise. It's still dark outside and he takes a few of the blankets off his bed and wonders out to the living room. She is asleep on the large sofa and he tries his best to curl up next to her without waking her. He's never been this close to a woman. Her whole body is pressed against his and he wraps his arm around her tiny waist and buries his head in her neck. He feels her warmth radiate through him and he know then that he never want to go without it. He breathes in her scent, just soap and cleanliness but to him it is beautiful.

He doesn't know what this is. He doesn't even understand why he's there and his mind seems to be moving at a painfully slow pace. All he knows is that when she is gone he misses her. He can't sleep when she isn't with him but now, cramped on the sofa he can relax he can close his eyes and finally sleep.

He doesn't know what this is but right now, for once in his life, he isn't seeking answers.

A/N: Hi everyone I hope you enjoyed this! The idea literally came to me at 2:30 in the morning and I just needed to write it down. Thank you for reading and please review, I absolutely love reading your feedback. I also have a chaptered story going (next update should be going up within the week once I finish all my assignments!) which is on my profile if you would like to read it.

Thank you for reading, reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciated :)