A Ray of Hope

Summary: After the death of his father-in-law, Marius Pontmercy was distraught, the events of the barricade still fresh in his mind. But a ray of hope was brought to him, in the child his dear friend Éponine had left behind. This is the story of Marielle Jondrette.

Disclaimer: I only own Marielle, and a couple of other OCs. Everything else belongs to Hugo, Schonberg and Hooper.

Chapter One

Rain pattered outside the window of the Café Musain, as Marius Pontmercy glanced unseeingly through the glass. He had done much the same since the fateful night at the barricades, and had seen no one. After all, he had no one left to see, bar Cosette, who was still in mourning for her beloved father, who had passed not three days since, and was just as distant as he was himself.

Feeling he could no longer procrastinate, the young man pulled a folded piece of parchment from his jacket pocket, taking in the rain-smudged ink on the front of it, from which he could just about make out the name 'Marius'. In truth, he had been afraid of opening it ever since it had been gifted to him, but now felt that he could ignore it no longer, considering the fate of its writer.

With a final heaving sigh, Marius pulled the candle wax seal apart and slowly unfolded the rough piece of paper, finding the ink inside miraculously untouched. Breathing deeply to slow his heavy heart, the man began to read.

My dearest Marius,
If I have given this letter to you, then I am now with God, for on this page is written my last confession.
I have in no way led a perfect life, barely one that could be called good, but some of those mistakes were decisions made for me.
My life of crime was not mine to choose, my skill at it shaming me daily, but it was my parents' choice to make. I was born a Thénardier, and that was how I lived. However, there was one choice I made completely for myself, one that I perhaps should not have done.
You may not remember entirely, but a few months ago, not long before Cosette, you had a passing fancy for the baker's daughter, Dominique. You became near obsessed, only for a day or two, but that was enough for me to give in to despair. I sat outside the baker's shop that night, listening to you laugh with her, until her brother, Clement, came to take me inside by the fire. We talked while you laughed, and I was truly happy. I felt loved. That was the beginning of my mistake.
You see, just a fortnight later, they left for the countryside. Your fancy passed and my heart was broken. Once the tears had dried, I wanted to move on with my life, but I could not. It was already too late.
I tried to tell you about her, but you were never listening. I talked to my parents, but they did not even care. I even ran away to the country to try and find the Charbonneau's new bakery, but it was hopeless. I had no one, no one but her.
Now that I am dead and gone, I need someone to care for her. I would never allow her to go to an orphanage, nor to a stranger, not after the servitude I saw Cosette endure in my childhood. I need to leave her with someone that I can trust to love and care for her as I would have wished to do myself. That is why I shall entrust my daughter's life to you.
Her name is Marielle, and she is hidden in the chapel of the old abandoned church at the edge of the city. There is an old woman who lives nearby that feeds her for me, but she needs a parent's love. I am sure that you will care for her, as you have done for me those years gone by.
It only remains to say that if you come to love her just a fraction of the amount that I love her, and that I loved you, then she will be the luckiest girl in all of Paris.
To Marielle, I leave two things. The first is my locket, the one that I was gifted by my own mother as a baby. The second, the letter that is in her Moses basket. Give it to her when she is old enough to understand. It says everything that I could not say to her.
I wish you both all the luck in the world,
All my love,
Éponine Adrienne Thenardier.

Marius stared at the page long after its message had been read, his gaze so intense that the words twisted and turned before his eyes, which were steadily blurring with the tears he had back since Éponine took the bullet.

The words had stung his heart as he read them over again, mostly because they had rung true. He had not been there for the young girl, instead chasing Cosette while she suffered in silence, and that hurt him more than any wound could, knowing that he had unwittingly abandoned her in her hour of need.

And a child. Marius could scarcely believe that his 'Ponine had a daughter of her own, when she was still really a child herself. Another fault of his own. A poor, innocent babe who had no choice as to how she came into the world, nor to the fate of she who gave her birth, nor even to her own. But Marius did have that choice, and the answer barely had to be considered.

Writing a brief note to Cosette, explaining that he had gone on an urgent errand and that he would soon return, which he fastened between the gates of their home on Rue Plumet, Marius then bolted for the nearby stables and within moments was on his way.

Little over an hour later, Marius slowed his steed to a halt, taking the reins in hand and tying them securely to the wooden lych-gate of the churchyard he had been searching for, before dismounting and beginning to walk towards the chapel, in such a daze that he could hardly put one foot in front of the other.

Being an only child, Marius had never cared for a baby before, and he felt just as much fear as he had on the barricades. What if he wasn't good enough? To him, this child was not just a baby; she was a part of 'Ponine. The only part he had left.

Upon reaching the cobweb covered chapel door, Marius began to panic, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his eardrums. What if the door was locked? What if the old woman was there? What if she refused to let him take her? So many scenarios occurred to him that he almost collapsed with relief when the door opened to reveal an empty bar the large altar at the far end of it.

His breathing not slowed, Marius made his way towards the cloth covered table and behind it. Nothing. Once again, Marius began to panic. She had been taken. Who had taken her? Had it been the old woman? Or someone else? What had they done to her?

Suddenly, an almost inaudible whimper broke through the cacophony of worries in his mind, silencing them all at once. As it was repeated, the student bent down to the flagstone floor, pulling aside the cloth of the table to come face to face with the source of the sound.

Right before his fatigued eyes, in a hurriedly woven Moses basket, lay a whimpering, brown haired baby. Marielle.

She was thin and frail and extraordinarily tiny when he took her into his arms, the envelope clutched in her left hand making up a large fraction of her weight, but he was hardly surprised. Éponine had always been a slight girl and, from what little he remembered of Clement Charbonneau, he had been much the same. Even so, she was smaller than any child he had ever seen.

For more than a few moments since reading Éponine's letter, Marius had contemplated taking the child from the church, disregarding Éponine's instruction and handing her over to another, a willing couple with children of their own, or an institution, even to the Foundling Hospital all the way over in London. But the moment her tiny hand had closed around his index finger, any possibility of giving her away drifted from the student's mind.

For it was then that he had discovered that he loved Marielle as his own daughter, as Valjean had loved Cosette. As Thénardier had never loved 'Ponine.

And he would make her proud.

A/N: Review please, so I know how I'm doing!