A/N: This story is supposed to take place during the two weeks Eponine spends in jail after "the affair," as she called it. It is Eponine/OC femmeslash, which means no flames please! It's a waste of your time and mine. I do not own Les Miserables, neither the play, the book, nor the (bad) movie. Please read and review! This is my first piece of FF, so I would really like some feedback. Enjoy!
Théo Saint-Michel shut her eyes tightly and groaned as the morning sun shone through the single barred window of her cramped, dank cell. She tried to block the light by rolling on her side and covering her face with one arm, but she knew she would never get back to sleep now that she was awake. She sat up stiffly on the hard bunk, shook her matted blonde hair out of her eyes and blinked groggily. Théo's stomach growled but she ignored the perpetual hunger, which was her only companion now. She was used to going hungry on the streets of Paris. Often she wasn't able to scrounge something for herself and her little brothers to eat for several days at a time. But her hunger here was made worse by the cold, the fear, and the continual lack of sleep. She shivered as she tried to calculate how much she had slept the night before. Four hours? Three? Who knew?
It had been like this every day of the long month Théo, or prisoner 24.602 as she was now known, had already spent in Les Madelonnettes, the Parisian women's prison. She would spend most of the day sitting on her bunk while staring into space and alternating between worrying and convincing herself that her brothers, Gervais and Raphael, would be able to survive without her.
After her parents died, Théo suddenly found herself to be Raphael and Gervais' only protector. When she was born, her father named her Théodore because he had desperately wanted a son, but seven years later he got his wish with the birth of Gervais. Gervais was nine, and already outspoken and independent. He liked the freedom that living on the streets gave him, and thrilled in the fact that he didn't have to go to school or church like rich children did. Théo never reminded him that school wasn't a chore, it was a wonderful privilege that they did not have the good fortune to receive. Théo had always resented the fact that she couldn't read and didn't understand why a person wouldn't want to attend school if he could. But she liked to see her brothers happy and safe, and did her best to keep them that way, even if it meant letting them believe falsehoods. She always just sat and smiled at his precociousness when Gervais got to talking like that.
Raphael, or Raphie as they called him, was five and more of a baby than a gamin like his brother. He was sensitive and shy, and depended on Théo and Gervais for everything. Her brothers had always depended on Théo to make things right. She was the only one they had. She took care of them. Where are they? Théo wondered, not for the first time.
Common sense told her that another gamine or gamin would find them and look after them until she could come back. Until they let me out of this hellhole, she thought, wrinkling her nose at a particularly nasty smell wafting in from one of the nearby cells. But another, nagging voice in her mind reminded her of all of the dangers in Paris, and speculated on how long two unprotected little boys could last on their own. There were plenty of criminals and murderers, she knew. Even if they weren't injured or killed, how would they find food? Where would they sleep? Don't be ridiculous, she told herself. They'll stay under the bridge like always. And if it rains, Gervais' friend Gavroche has that elephant of his, which is definitely big enough for two more, even with the hundreds of rats. Besides, Gervais probably remembers the tricks you taught him, too. They'll be fine. They're tough and smart like you taught them to be.
Those tricks of Théo's had ultimately done more harm than good for her, however. The years she had spent on the streets had certainly educated her, though not in the traditional manner. Théo had learned which bakers were generous, which streets had lots of resident almsgivers, and, most importantly, how to pickpocket. Lately she had started to pass down the tricks to Gervais, and was looking forward to having a helper. But one day, she was caught with the coin purse she had filched off an old gentleman on the Rue-Saint-Denis. Typically, it wasn't an ordinary police officer who caught her. No, it was the most infamous police officer in all of Paris, Inspector Javert.
Javert was notorious among the gamins for his deep, passionate devotion to upholding law and order, and also for ensuring extended prison sentences for those unfortunate criminals he caught. He spat on anyone who had ever breathed a word of argot, and thought that every criminal should get what he deserves. Gervais with his typical insolence mockingly called Javert "Inspector Buttoned-Up-Collar" behind his back because the Inspector always kept the coat of his uniform buttoned up to his chin, even in the sweltering heat.
And it's thanks to dear Inspector Javert that I have six month sentence as well, she thought bitterly. Théo had a theory of her own about justice. She believed that justice would truly be served if all men like Javert were put in prison and everyone with a generous soul could just live their lives in peace, without persecution or fear.
Like that'll ever happen. If there's one thing I know about this world, it's that justice doesn't exist, she thought. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of one of the guards unlocking her rusty cell door, swinging it open with a creak, putting in a new pitcher of water and tossing in some of the black crusty bread reserved for the convicts. She jumped off the bed, snatched the food before the rats could get to it, and gobbled it up with zeal. It was the only food she would get that day, and she was already weak with hunger. She swallowed the last morsel, and gulped down some water. She felt slightly better, but couldn't remember what she had been thinking about before the food was delivered.
Théo was used to losing her train of thought. It happened frequently. She didn't mind so much anymore. She secretly thought that the stress of looking after two other children, when she was only sixteen herself, had driven her mad. In reality, malnutrition and the exposure to the elements she had endured for most of her life were more to blame.
Théo lay down on the wooden bunk and tried to nap, knowing that it was futile. She didn't understand how she could endure sleeping almost anywhere outside the prison; in barns, under bridges, on park benches, on the rooftops, but she couldn't manage to sleep in her new, Spartan surroundings. It was too cold, too damp, too uncomfortable, she told herself. But she knew deep inside that it was because she was afraid. She had heard horror stories about prison from older gamins and gamines. How you would be put next to a psychotic who would slit your throat in the night, or how the guards wouldn't care if your cellmate tried to strangle you. She had always put on a brave face for her brothers, but prison scared Théo more than even the world outside did.
Suddenly as she began to doze, a forgotten fact floated to the front of Théo's disorganized mind. She sat bolt upright in bed, heart beating wildly. When the guard put the bread and water inside yesterday. What was it he said? she thought, wracking her tired brain for the memory. What was it…Mon dieu! Something about…a new cellmate. Her stomach sank with dread. Théo was happy having a cell of her own and was afraid of what a new cellmate would mean for her. For all she knew, she would be put with a lunatic, a serial killer. But before Théo could ponder this any more, she was overcome with a wave of exhaustion brought on by hunger. Lying down again, she pushed the memory aside, and tried to enjoy the last nap she would have alone.
