ENJOLRAS X READER ONE-SHOTS/For Thee & Only Thee

For Thee, and Only Thee - Part I

You had lived on the streets for twenty years, five months, and thirteen days.  You were born there, into a community of people who the government had failed, and it was often hard to remain positive.  Raised by the elder community members in your small village consisting of seven streets in the heart of Paris, you soon learned your street smarts and this section of Paris was the only home you knew.  Food was scarce, the weather was unforgiving, and even within your community, tempers flared and competition for resources threatened to tear apart the only family you'd ever known.  It was a dog-eats-dog world, but you strove to continue to dream of a better tomorrow.  You brought such ideals into your community and healed the scars that had formed, bringing a newfound hope that one day, everyone would have a warm fire, a roof over their head, and food in their bellies every night.  They appreciated you for this, and those who didn't kept their distance.  You fought off the criminals that dared threaten your community, and you performed good deeds as often as possible.

Nothing could stop the flow of ideas in your head; ideas about the world, and the bettering of society, the taxation of the rich, and having the people one day rule France so everyone would have a voice.  You made sure everyone in your small community on the streets had equal food, equal funds, and those who stole were given a chance at redemption, for life is so often cruel and unfair.  You were respected for your compassion and empathy.

You craved learning - you weren't allowed to enter the library due to your status but you devoured every novel you could get your hands on.  Again, being taught to read by the older folk in your community, you gave back by teaching the youth.  You wished one day for a society where all stories could be read and shared, and all could read, be education, and in turn, teach others.

All of the store owners would not let you in, for you were an outcast of the streets, but that was all to change when one day, shivering from the cold and in a burst of rage and hunger, you broke open a bakery window with your bare fist.  Bleeding, your wrist numb from the pain, you grabbed the nearest two loaves of bread - one for yourself and one for the children in the community - and ran as fast as you could away from the scene of crime.

Hurrying along, you bumped straight into a man in a dark green jacket, who immediately grabbed you.  You instinctively fought him off, the bread forgotten, but he too was street-smart, perhaps twice as well, and was yelling, "Please, I wish to assist!  I have money so you might pay for that bread!"

You froze.  You had met several kind strangers before, and several rich strangers who dropped money in your hat, but this one had a voice of calm and sincerity.  You felt you could immediately trust him.

He introduced himself as Valjean, and told you that his daughter, Cosette, who was about your age - perhaps a bit younger - was waiting in the carriage at the end of this street, and would you please come with him to where he could get you fresh food, a warm fire, and a bed to rest until morning.

"I can't abandon my family, Monsieur Valjean.  And how am I to know you even speak the truth?  I cannot abandon my community."

He presented you with a heaping sum of money.  "Then at least let me leave you with this, and insist you come visit me with someone from your community tomorrow."

"Papa?" a light voice questioned. 

"My daughter, Cosette," explained the man.

"Oh, gracious," spoke Cosette.  "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," you grimaced.  "I need to get home."

"But we can help you-"

"I don't need your help!" you spat.  "Thanks to rich bourgeoisie like you, I am stuck on the streets, and so is my family of fifty-nine.  Thanks to you and your petty government and your terrorizing police force, we are dying."

"I believe we are misunderstanding one another," said the man Valjean softly.  "I do not support the monarchy, nor the police force, for I am on the run from them, too."

"At least let him tell you his story while I bandage your wounds," said the girl Cosette, producing a cloth from her dress.

"I can bandage my own wrist," you retorted, snatching the cloth.  Why were you being so harsh?  "But I will listen," you conceded.

After Valjean told his story, you felt more at ease in his and Cosette's presence.  His story was a powerful one, and one of great emotion, and pain.  Also, joy - when he found Cosette.  He was a good man, and he wished to help you.  "If I go with you tonight," you asked, "what happens to my family?"

"Cosette will take you to my home.  I will stay the night with your community.  You will do that, Cosette?"

"Oh yes, we rarely have visitors," said Cosette earnestly.  "We would be more than happy to help.  It is our duty."

"You will find them jobs?" I asked.

"I will do everything in my power to help every one," promised Valjean.

You brought him back to the community, and called an emergency meeting.  Valjean told his story to them, and the rest of the evening passed in a blur.  It was chaotic, and some of the members felt betrayed by this strange man entering to see their miserable lifestyle.  The majority were grateful for the help.  You barely remembered the carriage ride back to the Valjean estate with Cosette, and your eyes were already closed before you realized that you were sleeping on a real bed, with real sheets and a real blanket, in a room all for yourself, before you fell asleep in exhaustion.

A/N: This will be a short fanfic in a series of scenes and I'm including it in my oneshot book because I don't want it to be a whole separate fanfic.  I promise Enjolras is coming; he'll be a main character!  Hope you like it so far! Just writing down another plot that's been in my head for awhile, totally not a scripting session ;). The title is based off of the song Enjolras, Song of the Patriot.