1.

In the town square of Paris there used to be an elephant, dirty. It isn't there anymore. Instead the faces of revolution stand on broad shoulders, going unnoticed by all except for those who end up sleeping on the stone bed at the leader's feet. White, beautiful, he's not far from the original. It used to not be entirely forgotten. One woman, her heart turned to stone, liquefied again, then frozen forever, tosses him her gaze and a half-smile, one that is her only true reminder of her past. She looks the same, but she goes by the name Madame Auriel Thereard. So her past is unknown.

(she's had a lot of experience with names)

Her parents didn't care. They never did, really. Besides the brief annoyance of not having a rock to anchor Montparnasse, it was one less mouth to feed. She walked down the aisle to a man she didn't love because she knew it didn't matter. One day she saw one of her old friends and felt history's knife find a resting place in her old and cracking heart. She grew to love her husband, she did. But she never allowed him the physical love. After a while he confronted her and asked her about her truthfulness. She looked him straight in the eye like she always did. (You can't change yourself fully, you know)

She told him, "Would you rather I give you my body, or my heart. I give you my mind."

There was always that boy and he'd never let go. No one guessed that she wasn't an Auriel at all. She was a good actress. At night she learnt to freeze her body, so that the rain of bullets didn't echo in her mind and that she reflected their screams.
She dared not move. It didn't take her long to remember how, she's had a lot of experience with hiding.

Once a month, the 5th, she would go to the square with a bucket and wipe away as much grime as possible.

(Odd, they called her, but that's what we all are)

A few gamin saw her one day and ran up to her. She looked at them in the corner of her eye and asked them what they wanted in fluent argot. At first they were shocked but then they asked her in their language, "Madame Thereard, why are you so odd?"

She smirked at them. "Never tell your secrets. But let me tell you this. I am no bourgeoisie. I am you."

(She is not one of us after all. She is of the streets. She is the dirt. He never used to care, though, when he kissed their intertwined fingers)

The river cuts through Paris and she watches it. And for the first time, though she's thought of it many times, she allows him to finally shoot through her walls.

(It always would end up like this, wouldn't it?)

Eponine squeezed through the crevasses of the wall, the night her only companion. It was all she had. Its dark wings spread over the world and Eponine welcomed it like any lonely person does. Hiding in the shadows, back against the wall, that's how she'd come to spend her nights. The cold no longer touched her skin, but soaked into her heart.

She walked along the dark roads. She was so dark, hair, eyes, her skin was stained with dirt. Even her soul was a little dark. Then she saw the gentle glow of a building. Eponine saw the light ignite a familiar figure. She had once counted each and every freckle. And then Eponine didn't want to be in the dark. Not forever. Eponine swept inside. She felt the long-forgotten warmth. She'd even forgotten that she was cold. She was ice through-and-through. Her hand shoved inside her pocket and took out a cap she'd managed to steal from Montparnasse. Fitted on her head, Eponine climbed the stairs. Her dark eyes combed the room. She smiled when she saw Marius. She increased her pace until she was over to where he was. "Hello Monsieur. It's warm in here isn't it? I didn't even notice how cold it was."

Then she noticed the man with the dark curls with whom Marius was talking to. She was suddenly ashamed of her torn clothes. She glanced at her feet. "Oh, sorry Monsieur. I didn't think before I came in. Are these all bourgeoisie?"

"Eponine! Most of us, yes. Except Feuilly, he was a gamin before, but he taught himself to read and write. He's probably the most talented of us all. Except for Enjolras, of course."

Eponine's eyes widened. "There's a gamin?"

"There is one, yes, who pops around every while."

She noticed how the curly-haired man was watching her. She turned her head.

"Why haven't you introduced yourself? I'm Grantaire." He laughed in joyous drunkenness, and threw his arm around Eponine's shoulder. She stiffened, but when his fist didn't hit her she relaxed.

"You really want to know about a stupid gamine's name?" She laughed.

"Oh, if only Enjolras could've heard you. The gamine and gamin and the poor people of Paris are the people we're fighting for!"

"Fighting? The poor people? Why on earth would a bunch of bourgeoisie want to help a bunch of homeless people who have nothing to give them in return?"

Grantaire laughed again. "Ah, Mademoiselle, don't be so hard on yourself. We just want to make a better world, that's all."

Eponine grinned. "Fine then. My name's Eponine."

"Lovely name, indeed."

Eponine beamed. "Mother chose it out of a book, when we still had them. Eponine et Sabinus."

She seemed to hold a bit of pride for this. "I can read a little bit, too. And write. Remember, Marius?"

Marius chuckled. "Yes. The borgies are coming."

"Anyway, I think I best be off so you can save the poor people in peace."

Grantaire pouted, "Wait, Eponine. The best part hasn't even begun. And besides, there's alcohol. For free!"

"Fine. For the alcohol."

"Oh good."

A shout rose up from another curly-haired boy who was a little lighter than Grantaire. "Our marble statue is about to make an appearance."

A man who she hadn't noticed stood up. Gold curled around his head, his eyes were blue as the sky. Eponine watched him. Was this the best part?

"The people of Paris are hungry, it is no revelation." As he spoke, Eponine leaned forward intently, watching the revolutionary.

When he stopped speaking, Eponine opened her mouth and made a noise like she was about to speak before retreating into herself. Enjolras turned his head at the noise, noticing her. Eponine smiled at him.

"Were you going to speak?" His words were kind now. Eponine nodded.

"Why aren't you going to now?"

"I'm a gamine, sir. A girl." Her voice was raspy like the night streets, her dirt-coated cheeks were the land, her hair was barely noticeable out in the night.

"So what? Women will have equal rights in the world we're creating. Come on up and say what you'd like."

How mean of him, scaring a girl like Eponine. Of course he didn't mean to scare her. He didn't even know he had scared her in the aftermath, because Eponine's fear lasted a moment. Then she got from her seat and walked over to the table.

"Your talk of new worlds is very good, Monsieur. But there have always been poor and there always will be. For a time, everything will be good, and then you will die and a king will seat himself again on the throne. There'll be things you can't stop. Save us all, yes, try, but it is impossible. People will drop to the ground, hunger will never share equally. I'm sorry for ruining your dreams. This is why I don't speak that often."

Enjolras looked at her with a look that said he knew everything about her. She smiled and placed her head on her hand. "Why bother hiding," she muttered and tipped her head. The too-small cap fell to the ground and a curtain of darkness fell over her shoulders.

She zoned out. When people started leaving, she stayed there. Eponine curled up in her chair, her arms around her legs.

"Mademoiselle? Are you leaving?"

"Not sure. Cold streets are nothing compared to the wrath of the people there. You're right. We're so god-damn hungry, for a change, for one damned thing to change. I think I might sleep here for tonight, in this chair."

Enjolras stood up and faced her. Eponine flinched. He seemed to notice, and he smiled kindly. "Come with me." He led her through to the other room and she saw two beds side by side. Eponine gasped. "I haven't slept in a bed for years."

Enjolras nodded. "I'll be back. You can get changed."

"I don't have anything. I'll have to sleep in this."

Enjolras wanted to say something, that much was obvious, but he just nodded.

Eponine slipped between the covers, and allowed sleep to ebb away her consciousness. I know I'll pay for this when I get home, but that's then. This is now.

She heard Enjolras go to his bed. She turned and through her lashes saw his shadow moving across the room and smiled. He felt her presence, turned, and even in the dark, his smile showed.

Eponine closed her eyes and dreamed.