Hey readers! Thanks for following and favoriting, hope you like what you read! I haven't really gotten any feedback for my recent chapters, and I'd love to know how you think the story is going! Anyway, enjoy!

Under the cover of darkness Eponine felt safe again. Try as she might to get used to living with Annette, not having to look over her shoulder when she crossed the street, having decent clothes and food, and one's own personal space, she found it difficult. She still had nightmares about living with her family: her papa beating her daily after a drunken night out, her maman driving her away to stay out of the house. Poor little Gavroche being forced out into the streets only because he had the hard luck of being born a boy.

And yet she could not quite let them go.

There was something to her family that made them ever present. Eponine no longer feared the pain of loveless parents. She did not even care anymore what they said or did to her. She knew she hated them, yet she hated to be away from them. There was always something about them pulling her back, as if she were forever tethered to them by some unbreakable bond.

Eponine had discarded the new clothes Annette had given her in favor of her ratty old garments. They were better suited to the task before her tonight. Pulling on the clothing riddled with holes and tears felt like slipping back into an old skin. Silently Eponine kept a watchful eye over Annette's sleeping form as she dressed, ensuring she would not be interrupted. No need to have her worry, or even stop her.

This was something that needed to be done. Gavroche needed her, and her family needed her, try as she might to forget them forever.

Eponine walked lightly out of the apartment, unfeeling to the cold winter air as she stepped outside. She stopped, hearing a gendarme walking. As he passed she let out a breath, anxious to be done with the deed.

Tonight she was going to see Azelma. For the past few months Eponine had been working successfully as an assistant to a seamstress, and had earned a bit of change. It was enough to get her family out of that awful Gorbeau dwelling and somewhere decent. It was bad enough that Eponine had been forced to live under that roof, but that her younger sister had to undergo the hardship was more bitter.

As Eponine traversed the street, she felt calmer than she had in months. Ever since the incident in the fall over Annette's past fiancée, things had been tense in the ABC meetings. With her work she hardly slept, though that hardly mattered these days anyway. At least she ate, which was more than what she'd had only a little while ago.

Eponine wondered if Azelma would be at the elephant statue as promised. What if she was too afraid of being caught? What if she ignored her? It would not be the first time. She was adapting their parents' hard and cruel ways too easily. Eponine knew she had too. Though it was too late to save herself, she'd hoped Azelma wasn't past redeeming.

A chill spread through Eponine's body when she passed the angel statue of one of the larger houses. It always made her uneasy somehow.

Soon it wasn't only the statue causing uneasiness. Eponine caught the sounds of light footfalls. They were barely perceptible, but after years of sneaking around Eponine could catch any sound. Immediately she ducked behind the statue, hiding herself in the shadows. Then she could hear two terrible voices talking. She held her breath as Blaise and Montparnasse drew near. She strained her ears to catch their conversation.

"It'll happen soon enough. They'll turn on her first, then when she's alone we'll get her."

"Are you sure? What about the others? And you never said what I was getting from this."

"Quit your whining. You'll get what you deserve soon enough, you blackguard. Now tell me, is that Thénardier agreed on this?"

"Of course he is. The old man is a desperate beggar. Hell, he'd risk his head ten times over to get a couple extra sous in his pocket."

Eponine started at the mention of her father's name. She outstretched an arm in the statue to steady herself, but she feared she'd given herself away when the bushes rustled loudly beneath her touch. All was silent for two tense, endless minutes, until at last it was Blaise who spoke.

"Someone is here."

Eponine was already slowly creeping out of the bushes, ready to fly, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"If it isn't little 'Ponine! What are you doing here, girl? You'd better not be interfering in our business."

Eponine shoved Montparnasse away violently and spat in his face. "If you're talking about my friends you can bet it is my business," she said coolly. Blaise frowned.

"Who is she, Montparnasse?"

Montparnasse glared at her and violently said, "Thénardier's daughter. Nothing but a silly little gamin, have no worry." He pulled a long, threatening knife from out of nowhere. Eponine stared back nonchalantly.

"You don't scare me, fool."

"I will soon enough," he hissed back. "Believe me, little Eponine, whatever you hate me for there are others much worse." His eyes were cruel, but behind the cruelty Eponine saw he spoke in earnest. There was something saying in his eyes saying, go now and save yourself before he gets angry.

"Who are you talking about?" Eponine asked Blaise directly, with a boldness that surprised even her. Blaise turned slowly, his eyes glittering in the dark.

"You'd like to know? Well, Montparnasse, we may be in luck tonight. She wants to know so very badly, she will see." Blaise laughed, his face contorted into something terrible to look at. Montparnasse was quiet. "I'm afraid, little girl, you belong to me now," Blaise said indifferently, leaning over Eponine. She tried not to show fear. That was what he wanted. She knew these sorts of men. They preyed on people's feelings and they manipulated them into following and worshipping them.

"Try that and you'll soon see who I belong to," Eponine said violently. In a sudden movement, she made to run and escape. She was so close, once she was out of the garden she could easily outrun the two. She had on countless occasions. But then she was knocked off her feet and the hard heel of a boot dug into her side. She lay on the grass, breathless, trying to wriggle out from Blaise's heel. She saw Montparnasse behind him, staring at the ground. Coward, she thought angrily. A blasted coward he was, too. She saw in his countenance an unwillingness to partake in all of Blaise's schemes, yet he did so because the allure of the prize was too great.

"Bastard!" Eponine gasped, landing a hard kick successfully in Blaise's stomach. Blaise yelled out furiously.

"Damn you! See what that'll get you." He kicked her brutally in the side, and Eponine gagged with pain. Blaise winced as he rubbed his sore area. He looked at her with satisfaction, and planted another kick in her head with satisfaction. Eponine's head spun as she felt her head grow weightless and heavy at once. Her vision blurred. Blaise wrenched her head from the ground by her hair and squeezed her face with his fingers.

"Now, here's what you're going to do."

Eponine returned to her apartment many hours later, bruised and bleeding, her hair torn in places and her face swollen. Annette was there, returned from work, and exclaimed upon her entering.

"Where have you been! God knows—" she stopped, seeing Eponine's limp and beaten appearance. Annette silently rose and helped her sit down. Eponine groaned painfully, avoiding Annette's scrutinizing gaze. She swatted her away in annoyance, wiping away fresh blood on her arm. Annette watched her, unmoving and judging.

Finally, Annette said, "Was it your parents?" She asked the question as though it were so normal. As though she were asking her if she would like sugar in her tea. It's been years since I had tea, Eponine thought distractedly. She felt as though that were what she needed, a good dose of warmth and comfort and she would be fine. It wasn't as though she hadn't faced worse.

"Eponine?" Annette's voice broke through her thoughts, and Eponine looked up angrily.

"God, can't one get some peace in here? Why are you yelling?" Her head rang with Annette's voice, which echoed, echoed loudly, bouncing off the walls and distorting itself till it was unrecognizable.

"You must have hit your head," Annette said worriedly. Eponine scoffed. If only she knew. "Go sit down. I'll fetch a doctor," Annette said.

"Can we afford one?" Eponine asked, guilt flooding her mind. Annette nodded, too quickly.

"Why not get Joly, or Combeferre even?" She suggested, pressing her hand to her head. Annette stopped, then seemed to almost smile. Alright, Eponine thought, go ahead and tease while my head is bleeding. She sighed to emphasize her pain, and Annette swiftly left. When she returned she was half dragging Combeferre behind her. Combeferre had his black medical bag he was secretly proud of, and looked rather flustered for once. Eponine tried not to shrink beneath the stares he gave when he saw her bruises.

Annette whispered something in his ear, and a flash of understanding and pity showed in Combeferre's eyes. Eponine hardened. She'd told him about her parents. Now he would only feel sorry for her and treat her like a foolish invalid. Annette left and Combeferre approached her. He grimly looked at her and asked,

"How often does this happen?" His eyes were warm and sad, and Eponine thought she couldn't bear it. It's not what you think, she was going to say. But how could she? If she explained the whole affair, Blaise would know and he would hurt everybody else. Best to blame it on her parents.

"Only..." she remembered coming home to find maman in the kitchen, ready to unleash her rage because there was no food and they were all so, so hungry. Or when her father dragged her by the hair and tossed her to his friends because he'd promised them a prize to play with. Or those times when Gavroche had still lived with them. Maman refused him any food, and if Eponine sacrificed her bit of bread for him she got the punishment.

Eponine did not realize until she felt Combeferre take her hand in comfort that she'd just spoken her thoughts aloud. She considered being embarrassed, but where was the point? He knew. Everybody must know. He would hate her, as her family hated her.

But Combeferre only gave her a reassuring squeeze and started cleaning the gash on her forehead. He understood her sudden silence, and so filled the space with his own conversation.

"There was a boy who came to the hospital a few weeks ago, and his story was remarkably similar to yours. He was seventeen years old, should have been an adult by then, but his parents' abuses made him small and weak. He could not ever abandon them, always wanting to support them, even when they left him to die."

Eponine flinched as her wounds began to throb under his touch. Combeferre pulled back a little, then murmured, "That'll need stitches." He pulled out his instruments from his bag as Eponine watched him, feeling oddly detached. What did he mean by this story?

Combeferre handed her a flask, and she stared at him unbelieving. "Whisky," he said wryly. "Perhaps you'd prefer to go without..."

Eponine tipped the flask into her mouth and felt her insides go warm as the alcohol burned down her throat. She'd missed it since she'd lived with Annette. Combeferre shook his head and began stitching, carefully maintaining his story.

"He was brought to the hospital by an old woman who'd found him bleeding out in an alley. It wasn't thieves who had done it to him, but his own parents." Combeferre's face was pained, and Eponine almost shuddered to think of the terrible things he must see in the hospital.

"He spoke to me before he died. Even his last words were about how worried for his mother, how despite their 'quarrels,' as he put it, she relied on him." Combeferre finished stitching, and Eponine felt relief as he stepped back. She closed her eyes, picturing the boy, wondering if that was how she was. Yes, she could never truly abandon and forget them, but that was because of Azelma. She couldn't possibly leave her completely by herself with their parents.

Eponine looked down, confused. Her head was heavy and painful with the torture of Blaise's cruelty. She wanted nothing but to crawl under her covers and sleep.

"Can you tell me what happened?" The question was sudden, and Eponine instinctively flinched at the directness of it. There was a pull, strange as it was, that she could not deny. It was telling her to talk to Combeferre. Perhaps he would understand, maybe he would be the one who could help her.

"It wasn't my parents," she said, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop. Damn the whisky, Eponine thought. Combeferre's face grew more worried. Though she knew it was his duty as a doctor to care for patients, she liked the feeling of being wanted and fussed over.

Combeferre inhaled sharply. "Could you tell me where you were hurt, and how?"

Eponine sighed. She was tired, and moreover she was confused.

Combeferre sat next to her slowly. "Do you want me to get a doctor from the hospital? They might want to take you there for examination, though."

Eponine shook her head violently. "I'm fine. Just bruised and sore." Combeferre didn't believe her, she could see, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Annette told me you hit your head."

Eponine tried to remember. Had she?

She nodded.

Combeferre gently took her face in his hands, and she jerked away impatiently. Calmly he said, "I just need to see if you have a concussion, Mademoiselle."

"Eponine," she corrected him tiredly. Combeferre smiled and inspected the dilating of her pupils. Eponine found she was unable to focus on his face, whether it was because of the pain or not, she did not know.

Combeferre stopped, and stood. "You do have a concussion," he said analytically. "Stay in bed for the day. I'll send a doctor to you. I am certain he will tell you more." He tipped his hat in farewell, and made to leave. Eponine almost jumped to follow him.

"Wait."

Combeferre turned, his spectacles gleaming in the light. Eponine swallowed uncertainly.

"Do you still want to know?"

Combeferre shook his head slowly. "Not now, Eponine. Rest, and you can tell me what you like tomorrow."

Eponine nodded. As he was leaving she called out, "Thank you."

She could have sworn she'd seen him smile.