EEEPP! You guys, the movie, I have no words. Everything was perfect, minus Russell Crowe, but he wasn't as bad as I thought he would be. Amanda actually surprised me, she really hit that note in "A Heart Full of Love," and Samantha was in every way perfect, of course.

Eponine knew the moment she arrived home that he father and his gang were spectacularly angry, and they were waiting for her. Azelma was sitting at the end of the bar, head down. She didn't look up when Eponine walked in, and she refused to meet her eyes.

"Your father's upstairs," Madame Thenadier told her plainly, not even glancing up from where she was wiping the counter with a filthy cloth. Eponine searched her face for any sort of distress, a mother should care that her daughters about to get the beating of her life right? Nothing. She didn't care. Eponine sighed, walking past the bar to the stairs. As she passed Azelma caught her hand, giving it a light squeeze before dropping it again.

XXXXXXXX

Azelma clutched the fabric of her skirt, not even stuffing her fingers in her ears can block out Eponine's screams. Azelma did care about her sister, it was just hard for her to show it. But she hated it when they did this. Azelma knew it was really bad when her father came back downstairs and left the inn without the rest of his gang. After stealing upstairs when her mother retired for the night her fears were confirmed. Azelma had no way of keeping track of the time, but the sky was becoming lighter by the time they finally came out. Montparnasse came first, fastening his trousers as he walked. Azelma stood up quickly from where she was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. She glared at him, but she didn't say anything. the old scars that littered her body were proof that she had learned to hold her tongue.

"Maybe next time we'll take you for a spin, you as good as your sister there?" Montparnasse sneered, grinning wickedly at her, "you might be fun, but you ain't as pretty as 'Ponine, are yeh 'Zelma?" His hand reached up to cup her chin. She slapped it away.

"Go to hell," She spat, earning her a sharp strike across the face. So she didn't always learn from her mistakes.

"I like 'em feisty," Montparnasse said, he turned to follow the rest of the gang down the hallway, cackling like a madman. As he rounded the corner Azelma stole into the room. Eponine lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her skirt pushed up far to high for any sort of dignity. Azelma knelt down next to her, smoothing the rough material over her scraped and bruised legs.

"Ponine?" Azelma said softly, "It's okay, they're gone, its just me." Eponine didn't stir, she didn't even whimper or moan. "Eponine?" Azelma said, "Eponine?" She shook her gently, her sisters limp form still not responding. Azelma drew back her hand, her eyes widened when she saw her fingers coated in blood.

"Eponine! Eponine wake up, please!" Azelma said, shaking her harder. Eponine moaned softly.

"Ponine, stay with me, I'm going to get help! Stay alive, you can't leave me here alone." Azelma sprang up, running out of the inn and through the crisp morning air as fast as her malnourished body could carry her.

XXXXXXXX

Gavroche was startled awake by someone banging on his makeshift home he had made inside the Elephant of Bastille statue.

"Gavroche! Wake up I need your help!" someone shouted. It sounded like 'Zelma! Gavroche crawled out to see his harassed - looking older sister standing on the cobblestones.

"Oy, 'Zelma, What time is it?" Gavroche wined, "Is that blood?" He asked, gasping when he saw the stains on her chemise.

"Ponine's hurt!" Azelma said breathlessly, "Papa and his gang punished her, and Papa let 'em have their way with her." Azelma watched as the color drained from Gravroche's face, he grabbed her wrist and took off running, Azelma close at his heels.

"Come on," Gavroche called behind him, "I know some people who can help!"

XXXXXXXX

"Who in their right mind calls at this early and hour?" Enjolras grumbled, "Gavroche!" He exclaimed when he saw the dirty street urchin outside his flat.

"Sorry to bother you, but our sister has been hurt!" Gavroche said, gesturing to the thin girl next to him, "I knew one of you students was a doctor or somethin', but I didn't know who."

"Is that blood?" Enjorlas asked her, "Are you hurt?"

"No, it's our sister, Eponine," she said, "Please, we have to hurry!"

"Where is she?" Enjolras asked.

"Back at my parents' inn," she said, "come, I'll show you!" Enjolras grabbed a coat, it was freezing,he couldn't imagine how the siblings must feel in only their rags. With Azelma, as he learned her name was, in the lead, the trio raced towards the inn, deep in the poorest and most criminal part of the slums. None of the thieves or prostitutes harassed them though, when Azelma passed they merely shrunk back quickly into a side alley. Enjolras supposed being the daughter of the infamous Thenardier had it's advantages. It felt like an eternity before they reached the inn, even with Enjolras struggling to keep up with the far more nimble Thenardier children.

"Wait out here, I have to make sure maman and papa are still asleep." Azelma whispered. She entered the inn, listening for any signs of movement. Everything was still, her parent's hadn't gotten up yet.

"Alright, come in," Azelma called back. She led them up the stairs to where Eponine was, still out cold on the floor. Part of her tan coat was stained crimson. She wasn't moving. Enjolras drew in a sharp breath when he saw the state she was in.

"Who did this," Enjolras asked, "who would beat a young girl like this?"

"Our father," Gavroche answered, "But I've never seen it this bad before."

"You mean to tell me that this has happened before?" Enjolras asked, picking Eponine from the floor, marveling at how light she was.

"Well sometimes its just some of them, usually-" Gavroche said

"Quiet!" Azelma hissed at him. Enjolras got the feeling there was more to Eponine's treatment than they were letting on. He would have to question them later, because right now Eponine was the main concern, and her face was alarmingly pale.

XXXXXXXX

"Gavroche," Enjolras ordered, "Run across to the flat opposite mine, and bang on the door until you wake up Joly and Marius. Tell them what has happened, and ask Joly to come over immediately." Gavroche nodded, sprinting out to complete the task.

"Azelma, go to the kitchen," Enjolras continued, gesturing with his head, "and get a clean knife from the drawer." Enjolras continued to his bedroom, paying no mind to the clean sheets, he laid Eponine on the bed. She had bled an alarming amount, his shirt was quite ruined, and her face was deathly white. He placed his hand over her mouth, she was still breathing, but just barely. With the knife that Azelma brought, he cut off her coat and tore the sleeve of her chemise.

"It's not that bad," Azelma said, "She's had worse cuts and bruises, but not all at one time." This "cut" she described was on Eponine's shoulder, about four inches long, and extended from the nape of her neck to the curve of her underarm. It was hard to tell, but judging by the vast amount of blood, it was pretty deep. It was the worst wound Enjolras had ever seen.

"She's in there!" They heard Gavroche call. Moments later Joly entered with his medical supplies, still in his night clothes.

"I need to examine her," He said quickly, "Could you step out?" Enjolras and Azelma exited the bedroom to the sitting room, where Gavroche and Marius were. Azelma sat down on the couch next to Gavroche and took his hand.

"What happened?" Marius asked Enjolras.

"That's a very good question," Enjolras said. He sat in a chair opposite the couch. Though he had just learned today that Gavroche and Eponine were siblings, he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. They looked very similar, they had the same eyes, and the same dark hair. Azelma, on the other hand, looked almost unrelated to them. Beneath the dirt it was obvious she had the same complexion as her brother and sister, tanned from days in the parisian sun, but her eyes were different. They were lighter, almost a green but at the same time brown, and her hair was difficult to define. Light brown, but with definite streaks of blond. Almost everything about Azelma was difficult to place. However there was something in the structure of her face that made her an undeniable relation to the child sitting next to her.

"Azelma, what happened?" Enjolras asked her.

"Papa. He, he hit her, along with his gang," Azelma said, staring intently at her free hand, suddenly her skirt became very interesting, "It was so long this time, almost all night."

"Have you slept?" He asked noting the dark circles under her eyes.

"No, I couldn't," She answered.

"Then go home, Eponine is safe now, you can come back later," Enjolras said. He stood up, offering his hand to help her up.

"I can't," Azelma said, "If I go home without 'Ponine papa could kill me, she always stops him." Enjolras glanced at Marius, he looked just as appalled as he felt.

"How old are you?" Enjolras asked. Azelma looked surprised, no one had ever asked her that.

"I'm not sure," Azelma counted her fingers, "I'm born in the spring, and it's been 9 winters since we lost our inn- sixteen I believe."

"Take Grantaitre's room, he didn't come home last night, he's probably lying in an alleyway someplace, drunk out of his mind." Enjolras said, "Gavroche, you get some sleep too."

"Enjolras, Marius," Joly entered the room as the door closed behind the younger Thenadiers, "She's going to be alright, but she's had a very violent ordeal."

"That's wonderful news!" Marius said, "I must be off, but do tell 'Ponine I wish her a speedy recovery!" He hurried out the door.

"Does he even care about her at all?" Enjolras asked.

"There are more pressing matters," Joly said, gesturing for Enjolras to follow him into the room, "She had a severe beating, several broken fingers and cracked ribs." Eponine's clothing had been removed, bandages were fasted around her chest for her ribs and the sheets were pulled up to her navel to maintain the poor girls dignity. Bruises, both new and old, littered her body, peppering her torso and arms.

"I've stitched up the cut, it should heal fine, and replaced her other arm in it's socket, She looks as if she hit her head, which is why you found her unconscious, but she should wake up soon," Joly continued, "But that's no my main concern, take a look at her bruises." Enjolras surveyed her arms, they were covered with distinct bruises, the shape of human hands.

"They look as if someone grabbed her," Enjolras shrugged, "What's the significance?"

"Enjolras," Joly said gravely, "They didn't just grab her, she has all the signs of someone who's been raped, and quite brutally at that."

I like including characters not in the book, it allows me to make 'em up myself. Bear with me, more to come soon! Nowadays we'd call Azelma's hair dirty blonde, but I doubt they had slang like that in Les Miserables.