A/N: Yes, the story's back. I want to thank those who had shown support in this stories and I want to thank them from the very bottom of my heart. A friend of mine gave me a very important piece of advice and he said,

"A writer's inspiration comes from reviews but we can't deny that we also take pride in giving the happiness to the readers whether they appreciated it or not. If you want some support, just ask them. If they don't, it's their problem. Just remember why you wrote this story for and don't ever forget those who gave their love to your story as well."

So I will continue this story under one condition; out of those fourteen alert readers, I will need five reviews at least to continue. Selfish? Yes, yes I am but I will write chapters longer and updates faster.

The ones who made this story possible are: BellePheonix, PerkyTurkeyBaby, Linsdsey and SusanaLovesRowling

Tune in every two to three days after I have acquired five reviews for an update since I will edit this story.

Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and settings belonged to Monsieur Victor Hugo and the film directed by Monsieur Tom Hooper.

From Me, To You

One would have assumed that everyone in Les Amis had made great progress but instead, here they are; arguing and raising their voices to one another. While others had voiced out their worry over the potential danger of gathering outsiders, some had been reluctant of having Eponine within the inner circle. It was common knowledge with anyone who had a sense to never trust a Thenardier (Gavroche was never considered one) and a woman to boot.

The others, mostly consisting the founders, had defended Eponine's stand from the nay-sayers as they pointed out that she might be a spy for the police. Enjolras had to shout above their own yells, silencing them as he slammed his hands on the table, ignoring the sound of a mug shattering on the floor.

Eponine shuddered as she watched his face ablaze with fury; his comrades have a common fear of Enjorlas' wrath though she never had seen the full extent of his anger. Grantaire once whispered to her that it was something she shouldn't wish to see and swore that they were banned from their former meeting place because the leader had destroyed every chair and window. But she had a sneaking suspicion that the man might be exaggerating for her sake or for his entertainment because it sent a shiver on her spine as she imagined it in her mind.

Then she heard the most outrageous thing, someone from the opposite side of the room had the gull to say- "Why should we listen to that two-bit slut? Even if she's your mistress, she can't just waltz in and give orders!"

"I am not his mistress, I belong to no man!" she hissed, she began to advance towards a man who scoffed at this, eager to teach him a lesson before she was held back by Courfeyrac and before she could escape his grip, it was Enjolras who kept her in her place. He held up a hand towards them before he turned to the other group, "The only mistress I have is France and my love is Patria. I shall vouch for Eponine if that's what it takes for her to earn her place. Remember what we're here for!" he grounded out, his teeth grated. They were getting off the topic. To think he was optimistic earlier on.

When they arrived at Cafe Musain, Eponine took one of their maps of the city and began to mark various spots and insisted they should talk to the citizens who lived there. Some had protested against it; thieves and street gangs had dwelled on those spots and there were whispers that the woman had taken upon herself to order them around under the guise of sharing a bed with their leader. Enjolras had not anticipated this kind of reaction from them, he had assumed they all would come into a nonverbal agreement that they will accept all plans he had in mind.

"Let her have her chance," Combeferre offered, "Tomorrow we will have another demonstration near the chapel of Rue Plummet and see if we could gain some support and maybe they would lend their strength for the barricades." The offer was appealing and while they were reluctant, they begrudgingly agreed to meet at the block not far from the church.

Eponine frowned at this, of all the grounds to cover, they had to do it where Marius had first laid eyes on 'her'. She couldn't even bear to even say her name without poison. Maybe in time she will come in terms with the sad reality that Marius will never be hers but right now, she has to nurse a wound that no one could heal but herself. And she had this matter to deal with. In the world of men, a girl like her won't be heard unless there was no other choice. With Enjolras bearing the final word, they will do nothing against his orders.

The memebers of Les Amis de l'ABC scattered from the café; one by one they walked out, some in groups while others went about their way for their daily routine. Eponine sat next to Courfeyrac as she watched Enjorlas and the others highlighting the focus of their speech. It really amazed her on how much these young men have to endure. They risked their safety for the sake of others and all the while they strived to protect their rights as the people of the country.

A sound from the window caught her attention. The others didn't hear it so she took it upon herself to check. And it was the right choice since she saw Montparnasse leaning on the wall with a handful of pebbles. When he saw her, he sent a roguish smile that will make the weaker ladies swoon, and yet she was immune by his charms and venemous beauty. He tilted his head towards the side of the alley and lo, there stood her father; watching the streets with a sharp eye. Of course, Parnasse wouldn't step a foot near café Musain except when he comes to call on Eponine on their earlier days. But the mere presence of her father made her think this was not a leisure visit.

Something sinister always happens whenever they would come to call and it would usually end with her earning another scar or a new set of welts on her arms and legs. The worst one was out of a fit in drunken rage, he smashed her head on a discarded sheet of glass and they left her there bleeding. She had to pick herself, drops of blood trickling from her head to the ground. The doctor had quite the fright to see her leaning on the door with blood pouring on her white chemise and brown skirt.

A shudder crept in her entire system as Parnasse gestured her to come forth. Looking over her shoulder, everyone was still busy planning, though she did expose a grin when she saw Joly hit Grantaire with a thin scroll on the head. With a deep intake of breath, she walked towards Enjolras and whispered in his ear, "I will come back later."

She must've annoyed him since he cringed when her breath tickled his ear. He just shrugged and waved his hand. With that, she ran out of the cafe and cautiously approached her old acquaintance.

"Bonjour 'Ponine. Had fun runnin' 'round with a new circle?"

"I will come back later"

Her breath had hit his ear and neck. He cringed at the newfound sensation as her voice echoed into his mind. Well, he'll just let her scurry around but he was far from letting her just come and go as she pleases. She has a part in this and he won't let her get away from that responsibility she so graciously bestowed upon herself.

Grantaire took a swig from his mug and mumbled, "Is it a wise choice to let Eponine lead the speech tomorrow? The people might ignore us if Eponine was to speak in front instead of you Enjolras"

"They will listen" he replied, though his tone suggested he was more in reassuring himself, "She knows their hardships, this will give us the advantage of gaining their trust. Able bodied men might even join in the barricade"

"But how will we be sure that they won't give us away to the law?" Grantaire challenged.

"We will give them the same chance with the chance we have given to the others"

Enjorlas' tone was firm. Now is the real trial; the inner circle has their doubts as well. Not for Eponine but on how they will execute the plan and placing a woman in front of the crowd to persuade them was the last thing in their minds. The last time they tried ask for their help, all they got was a couple of jeers and argot phrases that might have been cursing from what Gavroche's reactions were.

But what choice do they have? Now that Lamarque's funeral was a sign they purposely missed, only of Eponine's idea did they find that they were really unprepared for what was to come. If they had gone along with the barricades, by now they would have been outnumbered, out resourced and executed within an hour whence it started.

Bahorel scratched his chin gently, "What about the guns and cartridges? We're lacking the number of guns to people and we had to prepare the next batch to fire."

"And we have to find a place where we can hide if things have gone awry" Lesgles piped in. It sounded cowardly but it was better to be called that than wasting your life for naught.

Enjorlas finally surrendered to the possibility that they needed an escape route. He always wished that the revolution would be simple; fight, be heard and hope that it will reach the ears of those in power and give the people what they want. But as the days passed, that point of view became a fantasy for an idealist and it would just result into an unwanted bloodshed.

And yet, while he wavered with his stand, he never opted to back down from the cause. But while they always took him seriously, they were more half-hearted towards waging a war against those in power. With the monarchs, particularly. The odds of them leaving the barricades alive were so far away that it would make anyone just turn around and leave it at that.

"Very well. Eponine had said something about the catacombs.."

-x-

A harsh sound of a hand connecting to skin echoed through the alleyway near the square. A tall and lanky red-haired man hovered over the young gamin with a sneer on his gaunt face before he lifted her up by her dirty brown hair.

Eponine knew that she was already on the border of slipping into unconsciousness but she knew she had to fight it or she will be succumbed to even more abuse. Every part of her body screamed in pain and blood slowly flowed from her mouth and even more so on her forehead.

'That will need some stitches' she thought on the back of her mind as a thin river of blood trickled between her eyes and on the left side of her nose. The members of Patron-Minette looked bored and Brujon had even smoked a pipe while watching as if they were witnessing a play. Everyone except Parnasse.

He flinched and turned away whenever Thenardier's fist would hit her. A slap for a cheeky reply and a swift punch on the stomach for her punishment when she spat on his face. He only thought that the man would only threaten her but it escalated in a dangerous level of rage.

Thenardier backed her into a corner and asked her what she was doing with those boys. "Comforting them by warming their beds eh? Or is it only the dark blonde one you're currently laying with? The one you wanted didn't even notice you so you opened your legs to his friend" he sneered before he tipped her head up by yanking her hair back. She held her tongue so that he couldn't get the answer he wanted. That made him very much angry; he was the type of man who will get what he wants.

With little effort, he threw her to the wall that was filled with wooden crates. Her face landed on the middle crate that caused a large gash on her forehead, right above the left eyebrow. Eponine's body protested against the broken pieces of wood that poked her body, her hands were filled with several splinters that entered her fingers and palms. A cough escaped her as she tried to breathe but she was lifted up by the collar of her dress and flung against the cold cement.

"I'm asking you again you hussy," Thenardier growled, "Where do they keep their money? Those guns and cartridges must have come from somewhere!"

"I told you I don't know!" she yelped, it was already difficult for her breathe let alone talk. Her lungs have yet to regain the oxygen she had lost during his beatings and her pounding heartbeat echoed in her ears.

He kept asking where the group keeps their money and even if she knows, she would never betray them. She doubts they even have some francs to spare. Marius had once told her that they acquired the weapons from the markets where old weapons were sold in a cheap price. Or some were found on the old battlefields outside of the city. But her father wouldn't believe her. He knew that Marius was well-off and assumed that the others were as well.

With a final kick on her stomach, he kneeled to her level, his brown eyes echoed the promise of pain and intimidacy that only he could succeed in doing so, "Cross out paths one more time like what you did in Rue Plummet and I promise you, you will wish I had sent you to the docks instead." The threat rang the truth behind it and she was smart enough to heed this. A lump formed in her throat, disabling her to form a verbal response so a nod was all he got.

Thenardier gathered the spittle in his mouth and spat it to her direction before he turned his back and walked towards the shadows, the Patron-Minette followed close behind. Parnasse hesitated to turn away but a stern look from her father made him do so and left her there, beaten in the alley.

Eponine wiped her face, not minding the blood that marred her skin and the grime that attached themselves on her entire form. The muscles on her arms and upper extremeties throbbed, her bottom lip felt raw and her sight was all but clear. All she could hear was the dripping of water from a cracked pipe and the sound of people talking were like a mile away from where she lay. Had it been mere minutes or maybe hours? She had no idea, she counted the seconds by the throb of her pain and with that rate, she might have counted to a year.

The beam of sunlight that peeked through the hole of a roof above her caused her to cut her sight. She could only close her eyes to shield it from the intense light as her arms felt as if they were made from stone.

A shadow covered the light and made her open her weary eyes. It was the outline of a person, though she could not distinguish if it was man or a woman and yet she did not care. Do what they want; she had no strength to fight.

The blood from her forehead flowed strongly and made her feel lightheaded. The edges of her sight were blurred with darkness and she could feel her consciousness slipping from her grip. A voice called out to her, maybe it was her name but she couldn't really understand. The world around her started spinning and as soon as she was losing herself, she just let it her consciousness go.

"Enjolras! Enjolras!"

Courfeyrac's panicked cry jolted Enjolras from his planning and stood up to look for his brother in arms. The other men with him and gasped at the sight of the blood on his shirt. "Eponine's been attacked!" he informed them, "She was bleeding heavily from her head."

Enjolras felt a stinging sensation on his chest as he walked towards his friend with long strides. "Who had done this to her?"

"There were no witnesses, no suspect to point. I went out to buy some bread when I saw her lying on the dark alley way bleeding" he reported, a quiver in his voice suggested that he was still rattled from his find and his hands were shaking as he gripped the rail of the staircase.

"Where is she?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Courfeyrac wiped his sweaty forehead and cleared his throat, "I took her to the hospital near Rue d'Anges, and the doctors are tending to her wounds right now." The man nodded and ran to the said hospital, leaving the others gawking at his wake.

He had always been strong, or he believes he was. But the hospital was a haunting place of sickness or death. A strong smell of chemicals and disinfectants were evident from every door and as he walked from room to room, he stopped on the last room to the right and saw a nurse wiping the sleeping Eponine's face with a wet cloth.

The woman, with salt and pepper hair that peeked from her habit looked at him and asked, "Do you know this woman?"

"I am a friend" he answered.

"She had a cut on her lip and a nasty gash on her forehead. Her rib were cracked from her left side and the bruises on her arms and legs were fresh but the scars..." she trailed off and lightly took off a sleeve of her hospital dress. A very deep scar ran from her shoulder and surely it ran to her stomach. But even more scars that looked as if it was caused by broken glasses left jagged cuts all over her. A wave of nausea hit him and a sense of helplessness swallowed him like the sea.

He knew Eponine led a rough life but he didn't believe it would be this brutal. He came to her side as he thought she was punished by Javert's men for a crime of affiliating with them. But those men would have placed her in jail, not leaving he out on an alley where she could escape and file a report. Was it a robbery? She didn't have anything valuable with her and all she has was the clothes she wore. Was it even a random attack? A voice in his head murmured of Thenardier and the Patron-Minette.

He did not notice the nurse had already left; leaving the two of them alone with her sign of life was the slow rise and fall of her chest. A hand suddenly clamped his shoulder which made him turn around. There stood Marius with a shocked look on his face.

The Pontmercy kneeled down to her side and carefully caressed her cheek. His breathing was harsh as he stroked her hair away from her face and spoke in a softest of voices, "What happened?"

"I do not have any details more so than you. I just came here as soon as I heard of this."

"Qui...?"

"Courfeyrac. He went to buy bread when he saw her and took her here." Somehow, he wanted to make his reply as curt as possible. He fully turned to Marius and crossed his arms, "You weren't in Lamarque's funeral or at the meeting. Where have you been?"

Marius dipped his head low, as if he was thinking hard on his answer before he looked at Enjorlas straight in the eye and said, "I went to Cosette's father and pledged my love for her. I told him everything about me... even the Les Amis de l'ABC." Enjolras felt his hand itching to hit the young man on the back of his head. He clenched his hand into a fist and wiped his hand on his face in a frustrated manner, "Do you realize what you have done?!" he hissed in a low voice, "What if the man has connections with the law? He could have us all hanged!"

"The man sees no harm coming from us" Marius argued back, "All he told me was that I have to choose between the revolution and Cosette-"

"And what is your answer?" Enjorlas challenged.

The brunette opened his mouth but no sound came. Instead, he hung his head down like a convict waiting for his sentence to be delivered. Enjorlas stared at him with narrow eyes and said, "I see..."

He licked his chapped bottom lip and held him by the cuff of his coat. Marius was alarmed when Enjorlas began to pull him towards the door and growled, "You made your choice, your emotions against your friends and what we fight for. You have no ties with us, no longer are you a friend of Les Amis de l'ABC-"

"I am part of this revolution as anyone else!"

"You chose to follow your selfish desire rather than the fate of others, that's not the kind of man we need in the group"

"And what of Eponine?" he cried out, "I intend to see if she's well and in good hands-"

"Eponine will not be your business any longer" Enjorlas boomed in the harshest tone he'd ever spoken, "She's now a member and she made her loyalty clear. Just as you did. As of now Marius Pontmercy, you are not allowed near Café Musain and we will not recognize you as one of our own." He closed the door on his face, didn't even pause to give a look of pity as Marius' face contorted with rejection and grief…

He knew he had taken this too personally but the cold stab of betrayal run deep that it gave no room for mercy or consideration. To see him act so lovingly with Eponine while he has a woman waiting for him was the final straw. They had given him a choice and he had chosen what he wanted. Now he'll just have to live with the consequence. The sun still hung so high on the heavens but gray clouds began to cover the blue skies. He took one look at the still sleeping woman before he leaned on the wall and watched the slight flashes of lightning within the rumbling clouds.

"Oh Eponine you look so darling in that little blue dress of yours!" Madame Thenardier praised as her six year old daughter skipped to her open arms. This was before they lost the inn.

Maman would complement me in every way and papa would hug me and kiss my forehead every time I come up to him. But nothing lasts forever...

"Maman, where are my dresses?" a tearful Eponine questioned as her mother gave her a raggedy gray dress that Cosette once used. "We have to sell it. Now wipe yer snot off yer face and give me the doll!"

The nine year old sniffled as her mother swiped her doll and placed it in a basket along with her other clothes and bonnets. She never went hungry so when she went through a day without a scrap to eat, she began to fuss and whine. And it made Thenardier very, very angry.

"Will you keep quiet you noisy wench!" he growled and slapped her with the back of his hand. Shock filled her entire system that she just stared at her father with a red mark on her cheek.

It was the first of the many slaps he will give her.

"Maman loves you~"

"You're papa's little girl, yes you are!"

Liars, she thought, those praises and kisses and hugs are nothing more than lies. No more... no more lies...

A hot flash of pain on her head made her gasp for breath. She opened her eyes and saw a ceiling and curtains around her. The bed was soft and in the color of snow. She couldn't lift her head so she looked around and saw a figure near the window. The curtains made it hard for her to know the identity of that person but his features suggested that he is a man. In the deepest part of her heart, she prayed for it to be Marius. To give her even a slight sense of false hope that he does care.

Her heart dropped when the curtain fluttered open and revealed it was Enjolras. Although she was disappointed for not having her expectations met, she also felt a great deal of gratitude for the man. It was not his duty to care for her but he did it anyway, it made her feel really special.

But what a look on his face! It was a face he revealed not too long ago that made her sick to the stomach as if she was punched repeatedly by Brujon. But this time, it was so much different as well; he had formerly made a feat of depression but this... Can you even make an expression out of pure anger? His eyes was focused outside of the window, his mouth was set in a straight line and void of any emotion except for the v-shape of his eyebrows. His hands were on his side and his stance was taut. The cold, moist air entered the building; it ruffled his honey-coloured hair before slowly he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

He whispered something to the wind, letting only the ever silent gale know what was in his mind and heart. Slowly, she wished to also know the burden he carried so that she could also help him. It was an odd action since she wasn't even a very helpful person at all. At least, if it doesn't benefit her.

The wound on her forehead started to itch and her mouth tasted like copper. The bed, while soft and comforting, started to make her feel restrained and overall useless. Two things she'd hated.

An unwilling yelp escaped her mouth when she shifted her weight to her side. The sound alerted Enjorlas that she was awake and was in a great deal of pain. Before she could even try to sit up, he already tucked her back in again.

"The nurse says you have a cracked rib. It would be better you would just stay still" he muttered, his eyes distant as if he was just talking mechanically.

"But I don't want to stay in bed" she pouted.

Her childish response made him crack a small smile on his mask of indifference, "I think you can manage."

The nurse came by and shooed him away so that she could change the bandages and clean up the wounds. Enjorlas said that he will have to return to the café but promised to come back with some company. It made her very much happy, but unable to distinguish the source whether it was because she will have more people to accompany her or because he told her that he will return.

"That man" she sighed as she shook her head. The nurse, a very gossipy one, noticed her sigh and asked, "What of the monsieur, mademoiselle?" Eponine shook her head again in accordance to dodging the question. "Was he the one who brought me here?" she asked.

"Ah no he didn't, it was another monsieur with dark hair. Quite a terrible fright when he brought you here, he did" the nurse answered as she folded the clean strip of gauze and carefully helped her sit up and took of the old bandage on her forehead. Another wave of disappointment washed over her but this time, she had no idea why. Surely she had to be entirely grateful that it was someone else who saw her at her vulnerable state.

"How was she?"

Enjorlas won't lie; he was indeed surprised when he took the last step to the second floor when Courfeyrac was already in front of him with a worried expression.

"Relax 'Feyrac," Grantaire said as he slumped on the table with his mug in his hand, "'Ponine is a tough one, why I bet that she'd been through a whole lot worse!"

"Grantaire!" Feuilly chided, "Be more sensitive about what you say!"

Enjolras shook his head a bit before he turned to Courfeyrac, "She's fine. By the way she tried to leave the bed; I'm afraid I have to agree with Grantaire."

He noticed the other man let out a deep breath and smiled at the floorboards and noticed Joly throwing an arm arounnd his neck and whispered something in Courfeyrac's ear that made him flushed. Enjorlas then told them to resume the plans which made the men groan, Grantaire sloshed the last of his ale and drunkenly cried "Vive le France!"

It was already dark when they left the café. Prouvaire sends his wishes and love to Eponine and Lesgles was talked into going home and promised him that they will send his regards to the wounded girl. The walk tothe hospital was a brief and quiet one except for Grantaire who suddenly hum a song which Enjorlas had no idea what it was.

They entered the hospital and went straight to her room where they found her eating some soup. She looked up and gave them a bright smile despite the fact she had a bandage on her forehead and her chest was tightly wrapped with white gauze. "Now where is my saviour?" she teased.

Someone, probably Grantaire if Enjorlas would have guessed, pushed Courfeyrac forward to her bed. The others chuckled and teased when Courfeyrac glared at them before Eponine told him to come closer and landed a kiss on the unsuspecting man's cheek. Courfeyrac blushed horribly and placed a hand over the spot her lips met his cheek while the others whistled and teased some more. Enjorlas cocked his head to the side slightly, what's with this reaction? And why did she kiss him? He could only reason put the second question was that she was grateful and did what she did as a sign of thanks. But that smile on Courfeyrac had said otherwise.

The nurse entered the room; her eyes widened at the male visitors and told Eponine that she could go, just mind her wounds. "Next time don't jump over rooftops!" the woman warned, "You are not a pigeon you know!"

The men looked at her which she dodged as she sat up and placed her feet on the ground. Her feet were heavily bandaged as well so she wobbled when she tried to stand.

It was a hilarious sight when they all moved to steady her; some had bumped on the table while Joly almost elbowed an empty flower vase. Eponine held up her hands and stated, "Ça va bien, I'm fine!" Combeferre approached her and offered to carry her, which she declined as politely as she could.

They all walked out of the building, eager to prepare for tomorrow when Feuilly suddenly asked what Eponine had been hoping they would forget,

"What on earth happen to you mon petite? Who did such a horrid thing to you?"

All eyes now bore to her. Cold sweat poured over her body and her palms grew cold, the evening air had nothing to with the chill that racked her frame. How would she explain it? Could she even begin to think of telling them about her scars and the stories behind them? She bit the side of her cheek and pinched her hands with her nails.

"It was a robbery..." she whispered, afraid they would catch the lie, "I wasn't paying much attention when they caught me from behind."

"Why didn't you scream? Or yell for help?" Combeferre asked.

"They placed a cloth on my mouth and blindfolded as well so that I couldn't see their faces" she said, the words flowed smoothly from her tongue and it sounded so natural.

Grantaire growled and cracked his knuckles, "Of we ever catch those bâtards, we'll make them pay!" he promised. He started to lead her to the streets when she stopped. He pulled a face and she answered his unspoken question, "I live somewhere else now. Near the Sevine." She didn't want anyone to know that she was staying with Enjolras for fear that this will fan the flames of rumors that was already spreading.

"I will escort her," Enjorlas prompted, taking her arm as gently as he could. Grantaire and Joly shared a look and quietly chuckled, their suspicions had been validated and all they wanted to do was watch the story unravel itself. Coufeyrac, however, made a move to join the two.

"Let me come as well," he insisted.

"No, we have to prepare for tomorrow. You have to take your rest as well"

His tone was final and Courfeyrac had no choice but to watch the two walk through the cold night in the foggy streets. The night sky began to rumble and within moments, a thin spray of rain began to fall.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Review please. NO FLAMES.

Rue d'anges: Street of Angels