Well, it's been a while since I've written any Les Mis fanfiction, but since I saw it yesterday, I felt I should publish some. I've been meaning to write something Azelma-centric for a while anyways and this idea had been swimming around in my head. I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think!


Dull gray surrounded me. It was in the sky above me and in the sea before me.

I stood on the dock waiting for the boat that would take Papa and I to America. The docks did not bring me any happy memories. I had only been there a few times before. Eponine frequented them much more. Papa usually sent me to pickpocket the drunken sailors; Eponine was there to have them take her to bed for pay. She used to come back yelling at Papa. She would receive a beating, but that never bothered her much. Eventually, she stopped protesting. She just accepted it as a new part of our already miserable life.

The chilly sea breeze made me shiver. I pulled my thin shawl around me. Like always, the shawl did not help much. Papa stood behind me, carrying a rucksack of our things. We didn't have much to bring with us, just a few of the possessions we used to keep in our garret and the money he had received from Monsieur Marius. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and Eponine's hat that I was clutching in my hand. It was all I had left of her. I was able to find it after the riots ended. I vowed to keep it always. Maybe my having her hat, I could be a little more like her. Maybe I could stand up to Papa.

The boat was pulling into the harbor. My stomach felt knotted. I didn't want to go. I had had enough trouble moving from Montfermeil to Paris. How could I move to a completely foreign and strange country? I sighed heavily. Papa wore a smirk on his face. He had nothing left here in Paris. Maman and Eponine were gone, he always ignored my brothers, so it mattered little that they were also gone, and Patron-Minette was starting to reject him after his many failed attempts at robbery. Did I have anything left in Paris either? I wasn't so sure. I suppose I had Montparnasse. He had always treated me somewhat nicely, but that was probably because of my sister. I noticed that since Eponine died, he seemed to lack even more interest in me. I had no other friends. I just had memories of my sister and our unfortunate life together.

The boat had moved to the dock, but I had not moved towards it like the others had. Papa stopped and looked at me. "What's wrong with you, girl? Move your ass to the boat." He said, motioning to the vessel.

"No." I said, without looking at him.

"What did you say?" He asked with a angry sneer in his nasally voice.

"I said 'no.'" I repeated. I moved my head up to face him. "I'm not going." I said, looking into his small eyes.

"Why you little-" He began, grabbing my arm forcibly, pulling me towards the crowd of people boarding the boat.

I pulled myself away, out of his grasp. "I'm not going to some country I don't know a thing about! I'm staying here!" I yelled at him. That was the first time I ever yelled at my father. The first time I protested against his demands for more than a silent, hesitant second.

"You little brat!" he said. "You're acting just like your idiot of sister! And what did she do? She went and got herself killed. Do you want to be like her, rotting in the mud?" He yelled back, beady eyes staring at me like knives.

People were staring at us. It didn't bother me this time. I had people stare at me since I was a child for being a worthless gamine. Why should it bother me anymore? "Maybe I want to be like Eponine for once. I don't want to do everything that you tell me to do! I'm sick of getting hurt, doing bad things, being afraid of being caught! I'm going to stay here, whether you do or not, whether you want me to or not. I'll-" My voice was cut off by the sharp sound of a hand snapping against the flesh of my face. The slap stung. I brought my hand up to my face to touch the mark it must have left, but Papa just slapped away at that too.

"If you're so sick of getting hurt, you better start to do as I say again." He warned, pointing a calloused, red finger at my face.

I took a breath. I took a step to the boat. I began to walk with my face downcast. I knew then that I couldn't change so quickly. I would still be the meek, obedient Azelma I was before. At least for now. Maybe this was a start. Maybe in America, I could start over, do as I like. I could be defiant and independent, just like Eponine was. Or Papa would just reign over me again. I wouldn't be sure until I arrived in my new country. I took one last look behind at France before making the final step onto the boat. I swallowed the small shred of pride I had and never looked back.

"Good girl." He smirked, patting my back. "That's my girl, obedient little Azelma."

I'll be a good, obedient girl, for now, Papa.