I come to fight. Or at least, to listen.

Chapter one

Part 1

The Barricade 

~Chapter one~

Meetings

Evelyn stepped on the narrow cobble-stone streets of twilight Paris. With her right hand she tucked back a strand of dark chocolate hair behind her ear and smoothed her hand over the rest of her french braid. She was suddenly self-conscious and examined herself, attempting to erase the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her dress over the past six months. After all, she was going into a room full of students at the Sorbone and had to at least make herself look competent.

She turned right onto Rue St. Michel and the Cafe Musain came into sight. The voices of young men  and warm yellow light poured out the first and second stories. Eponine's description of the headquarters for the rebellion were somewhat vague, but Evelyn figured this was the place. She erected her posture and strode through the heavy door-frame.

......

Enjolras scanned the cafe. Most of the students huddled around the heavy oak table were making bullets, cleaning guns, or making other preparations for battle. Swaths of red fabric and French flags hung from the rafters and the smell of candles burning and sweat permeated the air. 

General Lamarque was hanging onto life by a thread, and the rebel force were going to make their cause official at his funeral. 

Most of the students held or kept near a bottle of wine, and the notion that they were drinking as they were preparing to start a revolution irked Enjolras. But he let the young men enjoy themselves for the time being, soon they would be risking their lives for freedom. 

.......

Evelyn rounded the last turn of the staircase and stepped onto the second floor. She searched the crowd of young men for her best-friend, Eponine, but she didn't see her in the sea of white shirt-sleeves and earth tones. What had Eponine gotten herself into? She certainly did not belong in a room full of young men with alcohol on their breath and politics in their hearts! Evelyn knew the true reason she was there, though. Marius Pontmercy, the baron's son, was at the forefront of this rebellion. Everywhere he went, Eponine went. No matter how many times Evelyn tried to talk some sense into the girl, she insisted that eventually Marius would love her back and they would live happily ever after. 

Evelyn shook her head and directed herself to the other end of the cafe. It's not that she didn't believe in happy endings, she wanted one for herself, even. But the cusp of a revolution was not the time nor place to make unexpected love connections.  

She spotted Eponine sitting with Marius at a table, the both of them huddled over a letter that Marius was writing, Marius with an idiot's smile on his face and Eponine almost grimacing. Ah, it must be a letter to Marius's new love. What did Eponine say her name was? Colette? Anyways, Evelyn knew it was breaking Eponine's heart that Marius was so dead-set on meeting this girl, and why Eponine appeared to be helping Marius write a love letter to her, she did not know. Evelyn was only a feet away from Eponine when she bumped into somebody. She looked at her obstacle. 

In short, he was as handsome as handsome could be. He had honey-colored curls and his eyes had a certain intensity as if they were made of pure blue fire. A scarlet jacket was tailored to his trim physique and a red, white, and blue ruffled circle was pinned to his right lapel. His whole physical appearance had a sort of chiseled effect to it. Evelyn noticed he had dropped the pamphlets he was holding and got down on her knees with him to gather them up. "Pardon, monsieur," she said as she looked at the handful of pamphlets in her hands. She couldn't help but to read the heading at the very top of the page in bold:

"Fight with us for France!

Liberty, equality, and brotherhood!"

.......

When they knocked into each other, the bunch of pamphlets Enjolras was holding in his hands fluttered to the floor. He stooped down, and while she was gathering the pieces of paper, he got a good look at her. She was a lower-class citizen of France. Her dark blue shirt and plaid skirt were dusted with dirt and a few tears. Her face had a certain expression of concentration to it, as if she always was thinking multiple thoughts. Enjolras stood up with a few pamphlets in his left hand and offered her his right. He'd be damned if he didn't show the same respect to a lower citizen of France as he would another bourgeois. She almost hesitated to take it.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before," Enjolras stated. She looked him in the eyes. Her eyes, Enjolras thought. They were the deepest shade of blue-green he had ever seen. Or were they hazel? Gray? They seemed to shift the longer he looked at them. It was also strange that a member of her class, especially a woman, would hold such eye contact. Enjolras was almost taken aback by the combination. "Tell me your name, mademoiselle"

"Evelyn, and you?" she responded. She had an almost curt tone, that betrayed she was here for business only. Enjolras met her with similar attitude.

"Enjolras. What brings you to les Amis?" he inquired. At first, Enjolras had assumed she was the mistress of one of the men, but her serious demeanor spoke that she was here for herself. Usually politics were the affairs of men, but since Marius's ghost was already here, he figured it was no use trying to keep women out. And if she was dedicated to the cause, she couldn't hurt. 

"I am here to fight. Or, at least listen. I've heard much talk among the streets of your cause, and I would like to add myself to the list of rebels." Her tone seemed to soften. But Enjolras was still very surprised. Not often do women involve themselves this closely in rebellion. Surely, she did not mean to partake in the violence that was sure to result? She still stared at him. Enjolras cleared his throat.