A/N: Sorry, long time no update! I wasn't really sure where this story was going, but I started thinking it over, and it ended up taking some surprising turns (which will be coming up in the next chapter or two). Thank you to everyone who reviewed and added this to story alerts––you guys are the reason I decided to finish this story!

Eponine had hardly dozed off when heavy footsteps came plodding down the corridor, and the door of the apartment creaked open. Oh no, not him, she thought. Careful not to make any noise, she rolled over onto her hands and knees, and crawled over to where Gavroche lay. She lay down beside him and wrapped her arm around him, placing herself between her father and her sleeping little brother. She hardly dared to breathe, listening as Thénardier moved around the room, muttering under his breath. She heard the clink of metal––he was either counting money, or evaluating the spoils of a night raid. It must have been the latter, for an old chair grated against the floor, the floorboards groaned once more beneath Thénardier's boots, and finally the door was pulled shut. Eponine pressed closer to Gavroche, and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew her father's routine well enough: his next stop would be the pawn shop, and then the back room of a café where the wine was cheap and the owner didn't care what customers looked like so long as they paid. He wouldn't come home until morning; by then, more than likely, he'd be drunk and too tired to care who was in the apartment. That only left Maman to worry about…

Several hours later, Eponine awoke to the sound of Gavroche coughing. "Shh…" she whispered, "Try to breathe. Just breathe." Gavroche moaned. "I feel awful," he whispered hoarsely, "A lot worse'n last night." He nestled against Eponine; she felt the heat of his forehead against her cheek. Azelma sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What'sa matter?" she mumbled sleepily. "He's worse," said Eponine, "His fever must've gone up during the night. 'Zel, get him something to drink." Azelma scrambled to her feet, and went to fill a cup with water from a jug on the table. Eponine moved so that she and Gavroche, whom she still held in her arms, were both more or less sitting up. "Drink this," she said, pressing the cup to his lips. Gavroche took a small sip, and began to cough, spilling water onto Eponine's shirt. Eponine handed the cup to Azelma; she rubbed Gavroche's back, trying to comfort him.

"What's going on here?"

"Maman!" Azelma gasped. She looked up to see their mother glaring down at them. "What's this?" Mme. Thénardier hissed, poking Gavroche with her foot. "It's your son, Mother," said Eponine coldly, "He was freezing to death out in the streets." Mme. Thénardier reached over Eponine's shoulder and grabbed a handful of Gavroche's hair, forcing him to look up at her. "You!" she hissed, "Ain't I told you never to come 'round here? We got enough to worry about as it is; the last thing I need is you hanging around."

"Leave him alone, Maman," said Eponine, with an edge of impatience to her voice, "Can't you see he's not well?" Gavroche coughed; Mme. Thénardier glared at Eponine. "And just what do you think you're doing, bringing a sick kid in here? Trying to infect all of us? Get him out of here!"

"Maman, please!" Azelma pleaded, "You can't throw him back out on the streets like this; he'll die!"

"Really," the Thénardiess snorted. "Well, since you two seem to care so much what happens to him, maybe you'd like to go with him, eh? All three of you, get out of here!"

"But Maman––" the girls protested. The Thénardiess seized Azelma's arm and yanked her to her feet. "Out!" she bellowed, "Now!" She threw open the door, and shooed the three children toward it. She pursued them down the stairs and out the front door. "Go on, get out of here!" she yelled, "And don't come back!"

…

The door slammed shut behind them. "What'll we do now?" Azelma asked. "Find someplace to get out of this blasted cold," Eponine replied. She looked down at Gavroche, huddled next to her, still wrapped in their ragged blanket. "Think you can walk for a little while?" she asked. Gavroche nodded. Eponine put her arm around his shoulders, and Azelma pressed close to him on the other side as they slowly made their way through the snowy streets.

So early in the day, not many of the shops were open yet; the few that were less than welcoming. One shopkeeper after another turned them away at the door with remarks like, "On your way; we don't want any riffraff hanging around here!" Azelma tried to gain some sympathy by explaining that their brother was ill and their mother had thrown them out, but to no avail: everyone they met seemed too busy with their own concerns to listen to their plight. Gavroche was trying not to complain, but his sisters could tell that the cold and the walking were wearing him out. Every so often Eponine would corral her siblings into an alley or a doorway for a short rest, huddled together in a tight knot to try and keep out the cold. "Could we try the hospital?" Azelma asked during one of these. "No good," Eponine replied, "They wouldn't take us."

"Why not?"

"Too dirty and too poor."

"But––" Before Azelma could finish what she was going to say, a door opened into the alley where they stood, and woman bundled up in layers of shawls stepped out with a basket to collect her frozen-stiff laundry. "Be off with you, you filthy beggars!" she snapped. "All right, we're going!" Eponine snarled back. She reached across Gavroche to take Azelma's hand, and, keeping as close to one another as possible, they continued their toilsome march.

As the shadows lengthened and the streetlamps cast their oily glow over the snow, the trio made their way toward the river. The bridge over the Seine was not an ideal spot, but Eponine and Azelma had been there before, and agreed it had one advantage: as no one else lived there, they were not likely to be evicted. The steps leading down to the river were covered with ice, making for a treacherous climb. However, there was considerably less snow under the bridge. Eponine took off her coat to spread over the cold ground. "There," she said, through chattering teeth, "That'll have to do for a bed. Can you spare a corner of that blanket for me, Gavroche?" The two girls lay down with their brother curled up between them; Eponine pulled the blanket over the three of them so that Gavroche was completely covered and Azelma mostly so. Gavroche pressed against her, whimpering quietly. "It's so cold," he moaned. "Shh…" Eponine whispered, running her fingers through his hair, "Just try to sleep, 'Zelma and I will keep you warm." In a low voice, so close Gavroche could feel her warm breath on his ear, but so quietly only he and Azelma could hear, she began to sing a slow, lilting song from the long-ago days of their childhood in Montfermeil:

All hail to the days that merit more praise
Than all the rest of the year,

And welcome the nights that double delights

As well for the poor as the peer!

Good fortune attend each merry man's friend,
That doth but the best that he may;
Forgetting old wrongs, with carols and songs,

To drive the cold winter away.

Gavroche's breathing slowed as he fell asleep. "Eponine," Azelma asked quietly, "What are we going to do?"

Eponine sighed. "I don't know," she said. "Wait till tomorrow." She closed her eyes and continued to hum softly, trying to shut out the worry that tore at her heart.