A/N: Sorry I haven't updated for ages-I've been really distracted. This chapter is very based on the book and part of the movie, so a few of the lines are lines I liked from these and thought I would use. Most of it is re-worded and changed, though.

Chapter 14: Marius has a visitor

Marius read through the letters when he arrived in his room. They were all supposedly by different names, but all were written in the same untidy scrawl; all smelt of the same rank tobacco; all had similar spelling mistakes. Begging letters. He threw them into a corner and went to sleep.

The next morning, after he woke up, he sat at his desk to do some work. It was seven o'clock; he was tired; but it couldn't complete itself.

He was startled by a tentative tap on his door. Who could that be? "Come in." He sighed, still studying. It must have been Ma'am Bougon. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur." The voice was in between that of a girl and that of one whose voice was husky by cold. He looked up sharply. His visitor was a girl.

She was quite young, a couple of years younger than him. All of her skin was pale and dirt-smeared with a few bruises and grazes or deeper cuts. Her hands were red and calloused; and she looked as if she hadn't eaten in days; weeks even; as most of the bones in her body were prominent. Her expression was sad, as if she hadn't smiled in a while. Her eyes got to him the most; a pale greyish-blue colour, with a tinge of a dull green. They were both bold and weary, with a pained depth to them; bleared and weary. She was shivering in only a torn, dirty chemise and equivalently ragged skirt.

He realised she might have once been pretty as a child, and she could have still been if her features weren't so marred with scars and wounds and dirt, if the sadness faded. A trace of that was still there, like pale sunlight fading beneath the massed clouds of a winter's dawn. Her face was not quite unfamiliar to Marius: he had a notion that he had seen her before.

"What can I do for you, Mademoiselle?" He thought he saw a twinkle of light in her dulled eyes, but it faded as quickly as it had come. "I've got a letter for you, Monsieur Marius." She replied huskily.

She knows my name. How could she know that?

She walked into his room without waiting to be invited, looking around at the small room with a wonder that Marius couldn't see.

She handed him a letter with her shaking hand. He took it and read it, realising it was in the same scrawling script as the others in his corner: another begging letter. Realisation slipped in. So this man, Jondrette, apparently, was one so low he used his own daughters, to do a lot of his dirty work. Souls born yesterday and shrivelled today like flowers dropped in the street which lie fading in the mud until a cartwheel comes to crush them. Marius watched the girl in painful astonishment as she explored his room; moving things about and examining them; touching his clothes, until she came to a mirror.

Marius' room, this is! Éponine was happy to see him again, although he wasn't as warmly friendly towards her as he used to be. "Well, fancy! You've got a mirror." She exclaimed. Looking at her reflection, she felt a little sadder, remembering the girl from the park. Well of course he won't feel this way for this face.
She hummed as she walked about, putting the sad thoughts out of her mind. Beneath her show of boldness, she hoped Marius didn't see her unease. She hummed that off as well, still delighted to be with him again.

Marius pondered whilst watching her. Why was she so familiar? He could see, if she hadn't been with this cruel father of hers, her actions might have seemed sweet or charming. In the animal world, no creature born to be a dove turns into a scavenger. This happens only among men.

She had come across his bookshelf when a light clearly came into her eyes. "Books!" She exclaimed, before announcing proudly, "I know how to read.". She picked up a novel that was lying on his desk: a Shakespeare one-Romeo and Juliet-and read aloud from it. "When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun." She read with no difficulty. "That is a sad story." She pondered. "How they both die at the end. I wonder what it is to die. Sometimes I wonder if I'll reach my next birthday."

She saw his pen, ink and paper on the writing desk. "Ink and paper! Why, I could have been an author if I wasn't in this life! You're a student, aren't you? I can write, you know." Her subjects slipped from one to another. She dipped the pen in ink and wrote on the paper without any mistakes: Rain will make the flowers grow.

"See? Me and my sister had schooling, you know. We weren't always like this." She put the pen down and turned to him. She studied his face a moment, and said, a little shyly: "Do you know, Monsieur Marius, that you are a very handsome young man?" He blushed a little whilst a ghost of a smile flickered to her face. Her hand drifted to his shoulder, whilst more words were forming. The words never came out, as he drew gently away.

"I think, Mademoiselle." He spoke with a cold gravity. "I have something belonging to you. Allow me to return it." He handed her the letters from the corner. "Thank you, Monsieur Marius! We've looked everywhere, my sister and I." She was about to leave, when he gently took her by the wrist. She stared at him, her eyes full of something Marius didn't understand. He pressed a coin into her hand. "Thank you!" She exclaimed, and ran out of the room. How familiar she seemed...

There comes a point, moreover, where the unfortunate and infamous are grouped together, merged in a single, fateful world. They are Les Miserables-the outcasts, the underdogs. And who is to blame? Is it not the most fallen who have most need of charity?

The girl visited Marius quite a bit after that. She said 'Hello, Monsieur Marius' whenever he passed. One day, when he was weary after a walk and wishing he could just see that girl he loved again, who he hadn't seen for six months, she heard footsteps behind him. He ignored them and went into his room, when he realised the door hadn't shut. He noticed the toe of a black leather boot in the doorway. He sighed, pulling the door open.

"So its you again. What do you want now?" His tone was almost harsh. A look of intense pain flashed into her eyes, making Marius instantly feel guilty. She didn't reply, thoughtfully regarding him. She seemed to have lost her earlier assurance.
"Can't you answer?" Marius sighed, then tried to speak more gently. "What do you want of me?"

She looked at him with mournful eyes, in which however a faint light gleamed.
"Monsieur Marius, you seem upset. What is the matter?" She spoke gently.
"There's nothing the matter with me." he spoke with a sigh again. "Please leave me alone." He shut the door, leaving Eponine standing in the hallway.

Azelma had been on a robbery with her father and his friends. But, alas, she had failed! And her father and his friends hadn't taken it lightly. After the tenth blow, her head was pounding, but she rose. She dodged the next blow, and ran as fast as she could. She knew where Jaques was now: she didn't know the address but she knew his house of by heart. She ran to there.

"Azelma!" He exclaimed. "Come in. Whatever happened?" He looked worried. "My father..." Azelma choked, bursting into sobs. "Oh, 'Zelma." Jaques put his arms around her and carried her inside. "Stay with me."

Éponine felt sadder now. Azelma was gone. Months passed, getting warmer. June arrived, and her father sold her boots as she didn't need to block out the snow now.
She'd cheered up a little after a while, though, because in Spring, something good had happened. Marius seemed to remember her! They were speaking, and suddenly he'd said "Éponine?" to her in disbelief. He looked confused a moment, but after a moment he saw who it was.

He was speaking kindly to her now, saying 'Dear 'Ponine.' again. She knew revolution was brewing in full now from what he told her. He also said he'd seen Azelma at Café Musain, as Jaques had joined their cause and she was with him. 'Zelma was safe! she was relieved to hear that.

It was early morning in June, but Marius had to get a bit of work done before joining the other students at the ABC cafe. They were discussing seriously now, planning their actions. He settled to do work, when there came a knock on the door. This had happened before-he was accustomed to it. He looked up, and sure enough the street girl was there.

"Hey there monsieur, what's new with you?" Before he could reply, she carried on talking. "Plotting to overthrow the state?" He froze momentarily, before remembering that he'd told her. "You still pretending to be poor? C'mon, I know your grandpa's rich." She'd seen him when he used to live with his Grandfather. He never saw his Grandfather anymore, and didn't plan to.

"Won't take a franc that I've not earned! All of those bridges have been burned." Éponine felt a small rush as he stood up to leave, feeling an electric surge when he brushed against her. Past her, out of the door, down the stairs. She followed.
"I like the way you talk, monsieur." She always tried hinting. He never quite got the message.
"I like the way you always tease!" He smirked, and walked away.

Éponine stared after him.

Little he knows. Little he sees...

Azelma was joining with the revolution, listening intently with Jaques. They were at Cafe Musain early. When everyone gathered, they began talking. She had no more bruises or wounds, and less dirt was on her face. Her rags had been dismissed, and she wore a white cotton dress that wasn't rich but it was better than she'd worn in years. A pair of ladies boots were on her feet, and she even had ribbons in her hair. She was poor but not a beggar anymore, and happy to be with Jaques. Marius and Enjolras were to speak to the people of the street to get their crusade around. They planned to do so, on General Lamarque's doorstep tomorrow.

Azelma wanted to get the news to Éponine, so she could see Marius. She wrote a letter in pencil, and gave it to Gavroche to deliver. She gave him a slice of bread for it.

'Ponine, what's become of you?