Hey, sorry if you've already read this chapter but I am just reposting it because I made a mistake and accidently put up the wrong poem so here is the new draft with the RIGHT poem. Sorry again. Also thanks to all my reviewer especially IndigoStarling, Freedom909, The little Shirling and Ladrisx! Really appreciate this chapter there is a little more insight into the other characters and I really wanna know who your favourite characters are or who you think I should write a little more of? Thanks!

Always

When all time stopped and the world stood still,

When the coo-coo stopped singing upon his leafy sill,

When the noise of laughter was not to be heard,

When children stopped playing; frozen to the world,

When the wind didn't chime,

When the sun didn't shine,

When the moon didn't glow with its faintest of glows,

When the spring never sprung,

When the autumn never fell,

When the lovers have died,

When the dead have loved,

When the heavens are full then we will know,

When the hells have just opened.

Éponine woke to the acquaintance of 'the block' and instantly chose to dislike it's presence. The block was a large board of wood, with many scratches and tarnishes. In total it was about one metre high, the board was lain across two chairs and tied with an old rope. It's purpose was to strike fear into the heart of the user as well as discomfort and intimidation. It was one of Javert's favourites. Éponine however much she tried, still showed her fear when when slowly opened her eyes to the brightness of the room and saw how she had been tied to the great wooden beast. The second thing that she noticed was how she was completely freezing and soaked through to the bone. Her clothes were drench with water, so that they stuck to her skin, showing every bone and limb. It made her shiver slightly and the sight of Javert and the two gendarme did nothing to sedate that terrible fear.

The inspector was standing in front of her, arms tightly crossed so that his stance took on an almost regal air. His posture reeked of superiority, yet Éponine thought that he looked a little crazed. His eyes like slits, we're as grey as the mighty storm clouds that roll in the heavens. His mouth like organ was pulled so tight, it was as if he was never to speak again. He glared at everything yet seemed to see nothing, except Éponine. At last he spoke to the rhythm of his hands, as they produced a small, leather bound book.

"Tell me your name thief!" he barked in a manner so controlling it would frighten the dead. "Éponine, family name Jondredette." She replied her voice surprisingly low and gentle. He nodded, ready to begin. "I shall ask a few questions of you, thief," Éponine quickly looked to his face, "What sort of questions would they be?" Éponine lived in a world where nobody asked questions apart from: 'How much?' and 'What's in it for me?' And Éponine actually knew that Javert knew that too.

Javert continued. "Can you read and write mademoiselle thief?" Although Javert had called her mademoiselle, Éponine knew it was only to spite her or cause her some form of harm. She fidgeted restlessly for a moment, feeling uncomfortable with the dampness of her clothes.

"Can read, 'beer' or 'gin' or 'ale' maybe even gendarme but none of that fancy stuff. No sense in filling yer head with stuff ye don't need, that's just what I do say." Javert's face seemed to darken further.

"You are clearly an academic mademoiselle thief. Now I would hope you feel obliged to tell me what it was, you were doing with the gang of men? Did they leave you behind to finish off? Where are they now? How did you come to work under them?" his questions flew at her and Éponine, not being all that used to his polite and adequate language, struggled to comprehend him. Throughout the day she would spend the greater amount of her time speaking argot and only a slight amount trying to speak with a properly annunciated parisian. Èponine tightened her eyes shut in concentration, trying to decide if it would be beneficial for her, if she spoke. She opened her mouth slowly at least twice before answering.

"I ain't left to finish ye off, Monsieur inspector. I was told to bring ye to that old house." Èponine decided that a plea for ignorance would be her best way out of the trouble she had thrown herself into. However since Javert did know of what happened when he had fallen unconscious, he was able to find her story highly untrue and he instantly became furious. He grabbed her shoulders with a terrifying grip and thundered, "Don't lie to me!" Èponine was so afraid that she flinched backwards and tried to hide her face. She could not decide which would be the lesser of two evils, telling Javert the whole truth and enduring the punishment of the Patron Minette or withholding all information and face her suffering by Javert's hand. It was not the choice that a young girl of seventeen should find herself making. So Èponine decide to betray her old father and decided that punishment later would be better than quite possible torturing now.

"I was made to work for a street gang." Èponine whispered in a low voice. Javert was wickedly dazzled by these words and motioned, with his hands, for her to continue. "They call themselves la Patron Minette. They are a real horrible lot. I had to lead ye there then finish the job off." Èponine paused for a while in thought, before deciding to make herself seem innocent. "They threatened, said they might just kill me if I didn't do it. I didn't want to! I promise I tried to get away! Of course I didn't kill ye, I didn't wanna kill nobody! I swear, I did nothing and know ye gotta let me go!" Èponine begged although Javert seemed not interested or caring, instead he was excited to finally be close to catching the infamous La Patron Minette. He knew of this gang, one of the worst, most treacherous street gangs in all of Paris. It was led by four men who had many working underneath them, one of which, appeared to be the thief before him. Spurred on by his hunger for more information, he lead her forwards and grabbed Èponine by the shoulders, shaking her. "Where are they? Where are there hideouts? What do you know of theme? Speak now, in the presence of the law!"

Èponine was completely terrified, she could feel her bones quacking with the dampness of her clothiers and the threat of Javert. Would she be so quick to betray the Patron Minette? Èponine finally understood that her knowledge was worth something in the eyes of Javert and could save her if she used it properly. So she decided to try and pluck courage from the air as if it floated down in bucket loads. She raised her shoulders slightly, fought down the urge to cry and stuck out her chin. "I ain't as stupid as ye may think, inspector. I know things so I do. I will only tell ye what ye wanna know if ye and yer men let me go!" She finished with a heart full of hope and the prospect of leaving the jail. Both of these emotions were quickly crushed when Javert replied, in an ominous voice. "I do not allow thieves to walk my streets." Èponine's reply sped from her mouth without much of a thought. She said it in the way that marked her as a true Jondredette. "Well then Monsieur, it looks to me like ye won't be catching the men that almost beat ye to death!"

Javert was outraged that she would dare to speck back to the law like that, he was quick to slap her across the face with the back of his hand. Relishing in the knowledge that his ring had torn into her cheek and left a line of blood. Javert wanted the information, craved the information and Èponine wanted out, craved getting out. He spat at her face then turned around and began pacing backwards and forwards across the space in front of Èponine as if he were trying to wear a hole through the floor. They were both at a stalemate. Javert let out a loud bellow, he hated the thought of letting this frail thief get the Brett of him. "Fine!" He shouted, then motioning to the two gendarme who were standing by the frame of the door. "Cut her loose!" Èponine smiled with satisfaction then stood, grabbing the inspectors shirt, she quickly pulled them both out the door. Èponine had decided it would be safer if she spoke to Javert outside. This would mean that she could make an easy escape once she had divulged him in her deepest secrets.

He held his notebook out and she spoke. Words flew from her mouth as a dove would fly from a tree, she let all of her hatred for her father and mother pour into the disjointed sentences she put together. She told Javert everything. Every place the Patron Minette had ever been, any conversation they had ever had, any horrible crime they had ever committed and any other personal piece of information that came to mind. Javert was extremely pleased with himself, What a catch! Èponine was exactly what he had wanted to find for years, a source of information and he was adamant that she would not get away. As Èponine began to finish her speech, Javert signalled to the gendarme to come closer. However a countless amount of time on the streets meant that Èponine was defiantly ready for lies and frauds. "I don't think that was yer best idea inspector," she implored him as she spun quickly and slipped away across the square. Although she could hear the shouts and calls of Javert and the many other gendarme she didn't stop or look back once. Èponine would be free, she longed to see Henri once again and could already imagine how perfect there meeting would be. "I will find you! You can run but you will never evade the law!" Javert's voice could be heard booming actions the square and Èponine shook a little at the sound of it but did not slow her pace. She was running, yet again. All poor Èponine's life was spent running, whenever a problem arose her, or her family with her, would always hide instead of fight. Èponine knew this well, yet could never bring herself to care. She knew that one way to help you move forwards, in a hard life, was to never look back. If she so much as glimpsed over her shoulder or tried to remember all the tragedies that had befallen her over the years, she would probably never be able to think again. Èponine was strong willed and determined yet she was not, and would most likely never be, strong enough to look back through the hideous life she had lead.

When Èponine arrived at the Gorbeau tenement she slowly opened the door. Her mother sat by the stove, stirring a black pot of rancid broth and Èponine's mouth started to water at the prospect of food, which in the last few days had seemed to be a foreign thought. "Ma, I was locked in prison." Èponine stated as she perched on the edge of the rotting wooden table. Her mother didn't even turn to face her, she only gave a grunt in reply. "Did ye miss me Ma?" Èponine asked, wanting any form of conversation and at last her mother did reply. "Course not you thick girl! I had some dandy knocking on me door about three times asking if ye were home! Bloody fool!" Èponine's heart soared and immediately she was full of unanswered questions which seemed to come bubbling to the surface as if a mighty dam had just been opened. "Oh! Ma who was he? Was it me Henri? Did he have the nicest black locks ye have ever seen? Was he ever so handsome?" Èponine seemed lost within her own fantasy, beautifully and blissfully ignorant of the land around her. Her mother, being a true romantic at heart felt a certain love for her daughter in that moment. For Madame Thènardier remembered when she too was just a child and would often pick up a fancy for many a young lad. She smiled fondly at Èponine before confirming, "Oui, the boy did have nice black curls and quite a handsome face too! He left his name for sure but I cannot remember. He seemed awful worried though! How long have ye been courting him? He seems quite posh!" Èponine nearly squealed with excitement, so happy that hr mother was finally warming slightly to her. She was also terribly thrilled that Henri had been worried for her safety, it showed that he really did care! Èponine threw her arms in the air and exclaimed, "Oh, Ma I really love him. He is good and kind and caring but we aren't courting at all! I don't know if he does love me or not. What do ye think, does he love me?"

Madame Thènardier sighed and pulled her daughter closer taking her by the hands so they stood face to face. "Listen 'Ponine, he does think of ye. If he didn't then why would he come knocking on me door so many times?" Èponine nodded slightly and looked into her mothers eyes that were hard and wise with age, she was slightly put off by her mothers sudden kindness, not used to being spoken to in such a sweet and gentle way. "I don't know where he lives Ma! I shall maybe never see him again! Oh, how that would slight me, as ye might understand." Madame Thénardier gave a heave of her shoulders and ran a large and calloused hand through her greyish hair. "Good Lord Girl! Have ye got no brains at all? Listen, I know he will come back, all ye gotta do is be patient. Good things come to those who wait," and with that, Madame Thénardier turned back to her gruesome supper and began, once again stirring the pot. Éponine smiled slightly, excited at the prospect of Henri's arrival, she was brought back to the attention of her mother when Madame Thénardier's brash voice could be heard. "And for God's Sake! Put on some dry clothes!"

The days staggered passed, slower than death itself. Each day Éponine would early rise and dress, combing her hair and washing her cheeks. One day she had even gone as far as pinching some of her mothers rouge! Éponine was awaiting Henri's arrival, she hadn't left the house for four days now, scared that if she were to go out, she would miss his visit. Éponine had also irritated her mother to no end, she had been constantly asking questions and retelling stories of Henri. Although her mother acted with indifference, not really caring what her daughter spent her time thinking about. Her father was different, he loathed and mocked Éponine for her fixation, commenting and sneering at her when ever he got the chance to. His daughters heart was only a mere amusement to him and he would not bat an eye if it were crushed, forever. Monsieur Thénardier was not a kind mad and thought little of love or friendship preferring to spend his inner thoughts, hopes and dreams lamenting about money, wealth and power. He was cold and cruel but yet, he did not wish any harm on his oldest child, he simply did not care. As a younger man he had also never cared much for delusions of love, he had simply known that he needed a wife who would give him sons and daughters. In his older years he was much the same, still hungering for an escape from poverty And a plate of riches. However one thing that Monsieur Thénardier was adamant about was that he would not die a poor man. When he was to turn seventy, where it's cold and your old and no one cares if you live or you die your one consolations the money you may have put by.

She sat, with her bare toes curled under her crossed legs and her cheeks pressed flush against the windows, looking. It was almost all she did nowadays, look. Éponine was sure that if she looked hard enough, peered through the mist and the fog and the tendrils of snow which still blew about the streets, then she would see him. He would be hurrying along with his head low and his coat turned up at the neck, his hair dark and magical would be blown to and fro in the chilling wind which as he walked towards Éponine. She had spent the four days since she had been released from the prison in the same fashion, watching. Éponine had begun to doubt Henri's affection, her mind had bittered slightly, thinking he would never come. She had started to curse herself and her poverty, thinking that the reasons that Henri Dubois had not yet come, was her lack of wealth or her appearance. Éponine though he would not care for her because she was too thin or because she was too stupid, maybe Henri preferred rich, beautiful and educated women. Not a poor and wretched creature like herself.

The reason Henri had, in actual fact, not returned was because his employer, a Monsieur Durand, had increased the hours of labour and had not allowed the men to leave until dusk, which Henri knew was an inappropriate hour to be paying visits to young mademoiselle's homes. Although the work of building the old cathedral on Saint Louis square was strenuous and tiring and left Heri with aching limbs and tired eyes, he still thought often about the poor, miserable girl wo lived in the Gorbeau Tenement. He had failed his promise, his promise to never leave Éponine, not like those who had already abandoned her, his promise to stay with her, help her, protect her. He had broken that and he was sorry. Every night as Henri would slip back into his home after the terrible days work, he would gaze upon his sisters sleeping form and be thankful, he would pray to his god and close his eyes. Hoping that he and his father and his sister would stay healthy and strong, and then, he would add on a whisper. He would quietly also ask for the safety of Éponine. He would wish that wherever she was, in the world with many hates, that she would live the night and see the morning. He remembered as if they had been spoken yesterday, the words of his mother, "Change one life, just one life, for the better and you will have done, what many great men have failed to do." This is what Henri had been hiding from, until they day he had encountered Éponine and then, his chance was born, he would see to it, as his mothers dying will, that one girls life would be improved. Improved by the love of friendship and the security of happiness. That Henri could do.

With an, "Au revior," and a kiss to the cheek, he slowly slipped out of the old home onto the street. Once outside, Henri walked briskly, cutting a path through the cold night air. It was turning into the evening time now and slowly the streets folk, who would only inhabit the land at day, receded to their homes and made way for the creatures of the night. Around him, the beings of the underworld made their paths through the sadness and the misdoings of others. They bore no marks of misery, instead they walked like the dead with hollow eyes and hollow hearts, unseeing and uncaring. He moved on, battling through the mists of poverty towards Èponine's door. He needed to reach her, just to gaze on her, just to see the flush in her cheeks and the life in her body. He needed to know that his promise had not been broken. He needed to tell her how sorry he was, how he will never forsake her again. He hoped he was not too late, for that would mean he no longer owned the trust of his dead mother. When he reached the pale crumbling wall that signified the Gorbeau Tenement a light fall of rain appeared. A rain that was so frail it seemed to be carrying a spirit to heaven. For the rain was full of ghosts that night, that tap and sigh against the glass and listen for reply.

Henri pushed his way up the dark stairs, encountering as he did, a shorter boy with hair the colour of the mud and freckles littered across pale cheeks. The boy tipped his hat and moved aside allowing Henri passage.

When Henri had reached the door, he found it ajar, opened only slightly so that he could see a small fragment of the dirtied room. In this small piece, Henri could see Éponine, curled on the ledge of the window. She looked saddened and at this Henri felt guilty, he wondered if they had hurt her in the prison. He felt like it was his fault that she had been taken to that dreadful place. He breathed in a sigh and gently, so gently he pushed open the door. Even when fate mixes its path with desperation and life, there will always be someone there to guide you home and show you which way to turn. Even Then.

Even then, when hope dies and injustice reins, the truth will come and prayers will be answered, Even then.