Yay I feel lots better!

Thanks for the reviews!

I feel like this story is getting rather boring and mundane…so I'm going to try and put some action in ASAP. I did like the suggestion of Feuilly and Marius throwing down, so I'll probably use that sometime soon. Any other suggestions to put in more action are welcome!

Eponine hurried through the streets. Despite her lack of shoes and the shabbiness of Feuilly's old coat, she was warmer than she had ever been in the winter, and her eyes were bright as she made her way to the book shop.

She pushed the door open, and a short man who was a bit overweight and balding came from the back. He stopped and looked her over.

"So you're the girl Feuilly sent to help me out?"

"Yes sir," Eponine replied.

"Well, you're not much to look at, but I guess you'll do. My name's Martin Berube."

"I'm Eponine Therandier," she replied.

"Eponine, eh? We don't sell books like that in my shop. Come on, I'll show you where to put your coat," he turned and walked toward a set of steps at the back of the shop, where an older woman sat.

"This is my wife, Thérèse. Thérèse, this is our new shop girl, Eponine." M. Berube said. The woman was plump, with graying brown hair and a cheerful face. She shook Eponine's hand warmly.

"It's good to have you, my dear. Here, let me take your coat."

"Thank you," Eponine remembered to say. She wondered if this was what children felt like on their first day of school as they showed her where to hang Feuilly's coat. Thérèse Berube took her upstairs, showing her the tiny apartment above the shop where she would live.

"My husband and I lived here when we first moved to Paris," she explained, "but now we've bought a proper house. It's small, but it's cozy."

There was a little bedroom furnished with an armoire, a bed, and a washstand with a pitcher and basin on it, and a cracked mirror hung above it, and a kitchen with a little stove for heat. There was even a tiny sitting room with a hard bench that was worse than Feuilly's couch. But Eponine liked it.

"I'll give you some fabric for the curtains, you can sew them yourself. You know how to sew, yes?" Thérèse was asking. Eponine shook her head no.

"Dear me, a girl of your age who can't sew! We'll have to change that. I always wanted a daughter, you know, but instead I have two sons. We'd best get back downstairs, before M. Berube gets upset. That man is ever so impatient!" she chattered as they made their way down the steps.

The job was straightforward, and Eponine learned it quickly. She enjoyed it, and when there was a lack of customers in the shop, Thérèse taught her to sew. Soon, she had pretty flowered curtains in her windows, and had earned enough money for a pair of shoes and another dress, this one a dark pink color.

Eponine saw Feuilly every night, and was embroidering his initials into a silk handkerchief for his Christmas gift. The tip of her index finger on her left hand was rough and often bandaged because she pricked it so often with her needle, but she didn't mind.

They had been saving up their money and planning a small Christmas Eve dinner with a few of Feuilly's comrades from the Friends of the ABC: Courfeyrac, Joly, and Combeferre. The gathering would be held at Combeferre's house, and everyone would bring something to contribute.

The shop was busy during the holidays, and Eponine had plenty to do. The days seemed to fly past in a whirl of people and working on Feuilly's present, and the evenings were spent drowsily holding each other in Feuilly's living room, simply enjoying each other's company.

Eponine was up late on the 23rd, finishing Feuilly's present by candlelight. Her eyes ached and her finger was swollen when she finished, but the handkerchief was done and as fine as one in the pocket of any Paris gentlemen. She was quite proud of her work and fell into bed, exhausted.

She savored sleeping in late the next morning, and rose reluctantly, wrapping herself in Feuilly's old coat, to journey to her father's inn. She had a gift for her sister. It was the time of day when Azelma had to sweep the yard. It had been her chore since their servant girl had gone away.

It was a beautiful day, with blue skies and sunlight that made the snow sparkle. Eponine blinked as she stepped out of her door. The street was busy with people and carriages, calling out to each other, hurrying to the houses where they would spend Christmas. A year before, she had found this to be a depressing sight, and had envied those people. But now she was happy and content, and hummed a Christmas-y tune as she walked along, carrying a basket for a few things she needed to buy and Azelma's present.

" 'Zelma!" Eponine called as she got closer. Azelma looked up, blinking at her sister.

"Who are you? And 'ow do you know me name?" she demanded. Eponine laughed.

"Don't you know your own sister, 'Zelma?"

" 'Ponine! Is that you?" Azelma asked, dropping her broom in surprise as Eponine hugged her.

"Of course it's me! Who else calls you 'Zelma?"

"No one, I guess. Look at your dress! You look like a fine lady! Where 'ave you been?"

"I have a job now," Eponine said proudly, "working at a book shop. And a house of my own."

"Workin' at a book shop? That's not what Papa says," Azelma replied, her eyes big, " 'E says that you're a mistress for some rich student, an' I'm not to speak to you. 'E says you're a bad influence."

"You mustn't believe him! I'm earning my own way, honestly. I'm nobody's mistress."

"But 'Parnasse says-" Azelma began.

"Shhh. Don't talk about him to me. Don't ever say his name!"

"Why? 'E's been ever so kind to me since you ran off. I think…I might be in love with 'im."

"No, 'Zelma, you can't! He's a bad man!"

"AZELMA!" Therandier bellowed from inside, "Ain't you finished sweepin' yet? I need you inside!"

"Coming, Papa!" Azelma called, giving Eponine a quick hug. Eponine shoved the present into her hands.

"Here. Joyeux noel, 'Zelma!"

"Joyeux noel, 'Ponine."

"I'll try and come back to see you soon. Stay away from 'Parnasse. Goodbye," Eponine called as she hurried off, keeping her head down in case Therandier decided to come outside. She bumped into someone and the contents of her basket spilled out into the snow.

"Oh, I am sorry mademoiselle!" the man she had run into cried, bending down and offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her up, and she began brushing snow off her dress. The man was studying her.

"Eponine?"

"Hmmm?" she looked at his face for the first time and went pale. It was Marius.