Thank you so much for all the attention this has recieved! I love getting the reviews and waking up to all the emails! Sorry it's taken so long to update, i had too many ideas and found it difficult to write it down...
A huge thank you to my friend who has gone through this editing and correcting!

DISCLAIMER: Obviously i do not own any of these characters, they all belong to Victor Hugo. So all credits belong to him.

Chapter 3
Staring at the malnourished body lying on his bed, Joly made a promise to himself and to Éponine. It involved him and his friends, one of them would always be there to protect her, to take care of her. He reached over, checking her pulse one last time; normal. He walked to his cupboard and took out the thick woollen blanket that he kept for use in the harsh winters that took over Paris each year. Spreading it over Éponine and making sure it was tucked completely round her and then, once content, he walked towards the door. Turning back one last time, he saw Éponine sigh contently, Joly's mouth creased at the sides as he quietly shut the door.

He turned to see Enjolras facing him, his blue eyes wide with worry. He saw him open his mouth slightly but he closed it, Joly looked down at the floor until Enjolras sighed and blurted it all out.
"Is she alright? What happened? Is she ill? Is she injured?" Enjolras' questions didn't stop. He was worried.
"Slow down! It's been a long night and I cannot think straight anymore." Joly sharply voiced. Joly regretted his harsh tone and seeing the disappointment in Enjolras's eyes, he answered.
"She will be fine; I will tell you more when she wakes. She is cold but not ill. Joly took a pregnant pause.
Enjolras looked straight into his eyes and muttered "and..."
"And she is hurt, badly" Joly continued "She clearly comes from a harsh world unlike our own, while we study with hope for an even better life, she has b-" he hesitated again, should he be telling others this? Slowly he carried on "she has been thieving, and I suspect selling herself also..."
The cramped hallway became enveloped in silence.

Enjolras stared at his feet guiltily. This is what he was fighting for. Better lives for people like her, like Éponine.
"What do we do?" asked Joly "act as if we know nothing? Offer our help?"
"You know she wouldn't except anything from us, she won't even accept a drink from Marius" Enjolras sighed. How could they help her? How could they make her see it wasn't charity, that the boys all cared for her.
"Well how long have we got 'til she wakes?" Enjolras asked. He figured the longer she slept, the longer they had to think of a plan.
"Could be 10 minutes or it could be 6 hours "I have no way of knowing" muttered Joly; he was incredibly tired. They both needed sleep desperately, but they both also wanted to help the girl sleeping in the room next to them. Deflated, Enjolras realised Joly's exhaustion.
"Come on we'll go to sleep and figure it out in the morning" suggested Enjolras as a yawn took over his mouth. They were once again walking down the corridor and with one final glance back, neither Joly nor Enjolras could see the room that Éponine was sleeping within.

Little did they know Éponine was wide awake listening to every single word. She was right, this was what they thought of her, she was just a charity case and they were going to pretend that she wasn't. Éponine glanced around the room, her eyes fixed onto a clock. She scrunched her eyebrows together, working out what it read. 3:18. she would rest but leave as soon as light hit the room, using her hands to guide her way. Content with her plan, she swung her thin legs over the side of the thick mattress. Putting weight onto her feet she gasped as pain trickled through her legs and raced up into her abdomen, clutching her battered waist once more, she fell back to the bed. She looked down; shocked that her whole torso had been bandaged. Joly, she sighed; he had seen her poor excuse of a body... What had he seen? She lurched forwards, looking at her legs; she frantically examined them, ignoring the searing pain emerging from her body. He had seen it. The bruises - that was how he had known about her life; she was definitely leaving now.

Pushing herself with the last surge of strength remaining in her arms, she walked cautiously across the floor. Slowly, she opened the plain white curtains so she would know when dawn struck. Pacing the floor again, she reached the bed and lowered herself down before cautiously pulling the sheets and thick blankets close around her. Éponine fidgeted feeling the familiar deep ache of her bruises and when she was curled up as tight as she could get herself; she let a single tear fall down from her eyes. She felt it land silently on the pillow, knowing it was the first of many she remained still and let herself weep. Her life, was it anything worth living anymore? Marius didn't care - why would he care about a street rat like her. Her parents had used her for their nasty and cruel games, for entertaining the gang, for keeping a watch out and to take what wasn't theirs to take. Her childhood was a mess, one that no child should have to suffer through.

At first she was the inn keeper's daughter, a little angel to all who visited. Except she wasn't an angel, she was being taught how to take, to sneak things from customers. Her parents had ruined her; at first they outfitted her with the best they could provide. The best hats, prettiest blue dresses, the plush teddy bears. Then they lost the inn, they lost their nerve and Éponine's respect. She had always thought it a way of life, taking. But then life turned cruel, out on the cold harsh streets everyone fought for themselves. Her brother, Gavroche, left so soon. She was heartbroken; he was her only friend the only one who truly understood their lives. He ran away from it all and she didn't blame him, she still thought about him every day. Taking was now a way of life -a way to survive. She never wanted this, she had tried to run away but her parents always seemed to find her. She constantly lied about who she was as people would scatter away from her when they heard she was a Thénardier. She despised the name, but she could never get away from it. She carried the gene, the quick witted mind, the hawk eyes, her fast and nimble hands she had always been better than... 'Zelma.

She stopped crying and wiped cascading tears from her face; it'd been three years since she had fled away from the house leaving Éponine pulling on her arm, begging her not to leave her alone; but she did. All alone, and she had never come back...

Please please review! I'd love to know any of your ideas, any tips, anything! :)

(By the way i'm incredibly happy at this time as Samantha Barks has just tweeted me twice within a minute! BEST DAY EVER)