Baby (Éponine, Cosette, Gavroche, 1822)
"Papa?" Éponine asks, crawling onto her father's lap as he sits before the fire.
"Yes, darling?"
"Why is Mama screaming so?"
"Because she's having a baby."
Éponine tosses her head. "I'm never having a baby, then. It sounds painful."
"Yes, it does."
But Éponine changes her mind when she meets her new baby brother, lying in a little cot by the bed. Her mother is frantically talking to her father in a hushed whisper, but Éponine pays them no heed, hanging over the cradle and stroking the back of her finger along the baby's cheek, softer than the velvet dress she has hanging in her wardrobe and wrinkled like a piece of fruit that has been left too long under the glare of the sun.
Little Cosette trembles in the doorway, holding the too-heavy pail of water that the midwife told her to fetch, watching how tender the older girl is with the new baby, and wondering if her mother was ever like that to her, or if her mother paid no heed to her child like the Thenardiess is doing now.
She wishes she had an older sister who would take care of her.
a/n I know this has been done by several people, but eh, here's my take. See my profile for the way I characterise some of the people - and Merry Christmas. For Dad.