Hello everyone! Just some inspiration disclaimers you can skip over (unless, of course, this kind of thing interests you). This is based off of the Brick, the anime series Shoujo Cosette, the 2012 movie, and an old French movie. I was also inspired by some fics on here. :p BTW, I was not aware that a similar story also called 'Brothers' was entitled such until afterwards. My apologies; the repeat was unintentional.

Much love,

Unicadia

A woman in a tattered shawl walked down the Paris cobblestones, which were turned to a riverbed by the pouring rain. She sank against a wall and coughed into the stonework. The dark night shrouded in looming clouds pressed down on her and the young boy whose hand she gripped, and she cringed further into the wall. Sucking in a shaky breath, she looked down at the small bundle she clutched in her other arm. Then she lifted her head, squinting through the rain and misty dark. She coughed again, and held the bundle closer to her wet bosom. "Come," she whispered to the boy, and they sloshed down the street. The boy slipped, and the woman almost went down herself, trying to catch him while still holding her burden. Staggering back up in the mud, they continued on their way.

At last the woman came to the hospice, and located the tour, a small opening in the building fitted out with a covered ledge. She blinked back the rain and tears, and, pulling back the torn blanket of the bundle, kissed her newborn son's face. Then she placed him inside the tour and rang the bell outside. She watched as unknown hands took him and disappeared within.

The woman sniffled and coughed again. Blood speckled her hand. She wiped it off on her dress and picked up her other son. "You look after your brother now, hm?" She kissed him, smiling through the rain. Then she placed him in the tour and ran the bell again. As the unknown hands returned, the boy's dark eyes widened, and he held his arms out to his mother.

"Maman!"

Tears running down her cheeks, the woman shook her head, her hand to her mouth as she backed away. "Goodbye, my dears."

Panic filled the boy's frail voice. "Maman!"

But she turned and hurried back into the relentless rain and misty dark.

Sister Constance on the other side of the tour took the weeping child and set him on a table. She noticed he wore a thin silver chain on his left wrist. Looking at the baby, she saw he also wore one. She wondered why the mother hadn't already sold these. Sister Evangeline, who was tending to the infant, shook her head at the boy. "He's too old to be here." She pulled something from the baby's blanket.

It was a soggy scrap of paper, the words written on it too run together to make anything out, except for this last bit: These two are brothers. Please try to keep them together.

Sister Evangeline snorted. "Well, if she thinks we can comply with every little-"

"Oh, he's only a couple years older," said Sister Constance. She was new to the hospice, and her heart reached out to these two and their poor mother.

"Then you can care for him." Sister Evangeline swaddled the baby. "Heaven knows we have enough work to do here already."

The following morning, the children were baptized under the gray sky, and Sister Constance christened them.

No one expected anyone to adopt the boys. They were just two more of the hundreds already there in the hospice. And adoptions were rare anyway. Sister Constance looked after the little boy as Sister Evangeline ordered, keeping him with her wherever she went. Individual attention was scarce, and the child flourished. His little brother, however, was taken to the infirmary only a week after admission.

About a month after the two children came to the hospice, a gentleman visited, wanting to adopt a boy as a birthday present for his wife, since they couldn't have children. Sister Constance elected her charge and presented him to the gentleman. "He's very well-behaved." She stroked his dark curls affectionately. "He has a brother, some years younger. It would be nice to keep them together."

The gentleman laughed as the boy examined his cane. "I like him. But I'm afraid I can only take one. My wife's never had a child around before, and two at once might be overwhelming."

Sister Constance nodded, watching the gentleman produce a candy from his pocket and give it to the boy. She could not be picky. This was a once in a lifetime chance for her charge and it might never come again.

The gentleman hoisted the boy up. "Does he have a name?"

"Yes." She told it to him and he looked at the child.

"Let's keep it. It suits you," he said, grinning. He put the boy down. "Does he have any things to pack up? I'd like to go now."

"Nothing." Sister Constance hugged the boy and kissed his cheek. "Would you like to go with this man? He'll be your father . . . and you'll have a mother, too. And you'll live in a house."

"A big house," the gentleman added.

The boy frowned, thinking. "I can't 'tay wif you?"

"No, baby. I was just taking care of you until you got a family of your own."

His frown deepened. "Whad 'bout wittle broffer?"

"He can't go with you." Sister Constance tried not to cry.

"I hafta takare of 'im."

"I'll take care of him."

He thought some more. "Can I come back if I don' wike it?"

"Sure," said the gentleman, twirling his cane and smiling.

The boy nodded, looking at the floor. "Ok."

Sister Constance hugged him again. "Goodbye." The gentleman scooped the boy up and left the hospice. Sister Constance waved as they drove away in a carriage. He was safe now. If only his brother could be as blessed.

About a week later, Sister Constance, working at the paperwork she was sorting, was interrupted by a young couple who stood in front of her desk. "We'd like to adopt a baby."

Their rich clothing spoke of their station. Sister Constance's heart leaped. Perhaps here was a chance for her infant . . . but he was still in the infirmary, slowly worsening every day. Who would want to adopt such a puny, sick child? Sister Constance dutifully led the couple into the crowded, noisy nursery. The young woman cried over every single baby. Sister Constance hesitantly approached her. "There is a sweet little boy I would love to see adopted," she ventured. "He's a little sick, though. But would you like to see him? He's absolutely precious, with beautiful blonde hair . . ."

"Oh, yes!" cried the woman, to Sister Constance's surprise.

The man came up behind his wife. "I thought you said you wanted a girl."

"I can change my mind, can't I? Bring him in, dear!" she told Sister Constance, who hurried over to the infirmary.

She came out again bearing the child, who coughed so hard his little face went all red.

"Oh, the poor thing!" said the woman, fairly snatching the baby out of Sister Constance's arms. "He's got a cold?"

"The flu, but he's also suffering from malnutrition."

"Oh, well we must take him." The woman looked at her husband. "Please, Félipe. After a few weeks of good food and Doctor Jacques looking after him, he'll be all well."

The man looked doubtfully at the baby. "Wouldn't you rather get a bigger, healthier child?"

"No. I want this one." The woman turned to Sister Constance. "What's his name, dear?"

"I've been calling him Eugene."

The woman grimaced. "What an ugly name! I'll change it. And thank you so much, dear. We'll take him."

"No, thank you, madame," said Sister Constance, joy filling her heart. "Thank you."

The couple started to leave, when Sister Constance remembered. "Wait!" They stopped and looked back. "I just wanted to tell you that he has an older brother who was adopted a little earlier." She told them the name of the family, and the man smiled and nodded.

"Yes, we know them. They're good friends of ours. What a coincidence."

"Someday we'll tell him," said the woman, gazing down at the baby.

"Yes," whispered Sister Constance as she watched the couple leave. "Someday, tell him."

And my deepest apologies to anyone named Eugene who read this. I actually love the name; sue the nasty woman if you must.