Rebuilding the shattered marble

Authors note: Bonjour ma belles. I decided to start this Enjonine fan fic as I was having major writers block on the other one. And the idea for this one appeared in my history lesson on a Saturday morning (Yes I said Saturday, stupid school!) when we started learning about the First World War. So this is a first world war AU. Rated M for some violence, swearing and maybe rape. There may be smut, don't know because 1) I'm a 14 year old girl who's never actually kissed a boy, so not much of a clue on the sexual side of things. And 2) When I attempt to write smut I have a laughing fit and end up falling of my bed, hitting my head and end up with a slight concussion. But I will warn you in advance if there is.

Disclaimer: If I was Victor Hugo do you think I would be writing my version of my own story?

Oh you thought the lions were bad,

Well they tried to kill my brothers.

And for every king that dies,

Oh they would crown another.

And it's harder than you think,

Telling dreams from one another.

And you thought the lions were bad,

But to kill my brothers.

Daniel in the den, Bastille

[The time in which this starts is about July, 1918. One month before the battle of Somme.] Chapter 1- Signing up

Is this what my life has come to? I lay on the putrid mattress that I share with my sister. The broken window that had no curtains let some of the cool night air penetrate the narrow room. The stars shone bright in the sky. But the stars allowed me to see the vile box room I slept in. Well, attempted to sleep. I could hear my father and his gang shouting, obviously intoxicated. All my life I've known that I had to be tough. I couldn't be weak. Because weakness would mean my siblings and my life would be ten times worse than it is now. My parents are the dregs of society. Even though we are at war, they still don't have the decency or humanity to not be so cruel and barbaric. They con widows and mothers. Sisters and lovers. Those have all lost someone due to war. Pretending that they can contact their beloved from the next world. Or they steal from people who are just lucky enough to be able to leave with a bit more hope that they can live in this un-fair world, where the state of wealth the family you are born to depicts the rest of your life and even how you die. They murder and have no conscience or good, even ok morals. Any they had lasted two minutes before disappearing, forever.

My life has barely started, but at the rate of the way my life's heading. It will end soon. Due to disease, murder, my father, starvation or even suicide. No one will care that I died. There would be no tears. No service, where family and friends gather to reminisce about the times we had been through together. I'll be dumped in a pauper's grave most likely, unless Gavroche and Azelma bury me. But Azelma and I struggle to see eye to eye. She does all that our parents tell her to. They make her take part in their charades to fool grief stricken people who cling onto shreds of hope. Or to steal from a person who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She is sometimes forced to sell herself. I would be made to if my pride wasn't strong enough to make me rebel against that.

Three things I refuse to do. One is to never sell myself as a prostitute. Two, I will never steal from someone who is as destitute as me. And lastly I'll never kill. No matter whom it is or what they've done. It is not our decision as mere humans to end another's life. Only God can decide when it is our time to live. And our time to die. I don't enjoy stealing, lying or cheating. But I don't have a choice. People say "You can choice right over wrong." But those are the people who have never had to go days on end without enough food or water. Those people don't have clothes that are worn so thin that it's more like paper than fabric. Those people will or have never slept on the street because if you return home, you know that you wouldn't be able to see those streets again. People in my situation turn bitter and hatred consumes them. But I won't turn bitter or resent those who just had a bit of luck.

I secretly signed up to join the Red Cross. I want to help people and the war effort. I would have started at the beginning of the war but they wouldn't allow a waif, a gamine to help. As half the time they couldn't be trusted to not steal. But the amount of soldiers being taken into hospital has increased. Many die there. Many lose themselves there. The hospitals are where you see the real effects. Men become boys. Boys become old men. They have all seen and done terrible. Because of orders, because if they didn't they would be shot for cowardice. Many men are mal-nourished, have dieases due to lack of hygiene. Many are shell shocked and or severely depressed. I want to help because of the freedom it brings me. But also how may help that extra one person from dying from an infection. Or helping that one person to remember how to be whole again and escape the hell they lived in. My eyelids started to feel heavy and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Thinking One day more.

*Next day*

I was up before the sun had fully risen. If I want to leave, this will be the only time. I had managed to save enough money for two decent outfits and shoes. By decent I mean wearable second hand clothes and one decent nightgown. They were a bit to big but were not rags. The skirts were pale beige and one was a grey. The blouses were a light blue and a dark green. The one pair of shoes were slightly too small. But will do for now. It had taken me months to get enough money. The only other things I took was an old cross necklace, from when my parents where kind towards me. That I refused to sell because it reminded me that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. And the only other thing I brought was an old copy of one of Voltaire's works. Not the romance but the one of the ones that made you think and question the way we live our lives. I put all of these in my old, worn messenger bag. I chose to wear the blue shirt and beige skirt. Before quickly leaving the rancid flat. Goodbye to the hell I was living.

I had my forms in my hand as I entered the train. The first one I had ever been on since my childhood. I was working in a hospital in Toulouse [not sure if there was one there, but it's the only city I can think of in the north of France rather than Paris and Calais.] I had a nervous excitement exploding inside of me. "Is this seat taken?" A girl my age asked. She had curly red hair and deep hazel eyes. She had pale skin that was dotted with freckles. "No." I said politely. I noticed that she was also better off than me. "My name is Muischetta Dubois, what is yours?" She asks friendly. I bite my lip. I shouldn't say my last name. Once I'm known that my last names Thénardier I'll never be able to have a future. "My name is Éponine Jondrette." I replied, covering my nerves by putting a small smile on my face. "Are you going to the hospital?" She said once the train started moving. I gave a small nod. "Same here. I hope that it's not like people describe it." We talked for the most of the journey. I was beginning to enjoy Muischetta's company. She was a lovely person and kind. I was hoping that I shared a room with her.

We got off the train. There were about twenty girls altogether going to the hospital. We were escorted there by a matron. She was called Madame Toussaint. She was rather round and had more facial hair than any man I've met. She led us to the hospital. It was an old convent that was changed into a hospital due to the increase of patients needing treatment. We were led to the dormitories in the opposite end. "Settle in and go to bed. You need to be up at five tomorrow." She then left us. I was in a room with Muischetta and two other girls. One with hair as dark as night itself and emerald green eyes that reminded me of a cat. The other girl had beautiful golden ringlets that fell half way down her back and eyes as deep as the ocean. I had a feeling that I already knew her.

We picked our beds. I went to the one that was next to a window. We awkwardly went to talk to each other. "Muischetta?" I asked after a few moments of extreme quietness. "Yes Ponine." She said looking at me. "Is it going to be terrible tomorrow?" I was nervous about what I was going to see. "I don't know." She sighed. We all introduced ourselves. The girl that had a feline air about her was called Matilda. She was obviously was a bourgeoisie. The other girl had a voice like a bird. It was soft and delicate. Her name though snapped all my memories back. Her name was Cosette. And I was finally free, but the past always catches up.

Authors note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. I NEED OPINIONS (GOOD OR BAD) TO BE INSPIRED TO CARRY ON.

Courfeyrac: Enjolras theirs someone climbing the barricade.

Enjolras: Merci Courfeyrac. Who goes there!

*Enjolras raises gun.*

Me: Don't shoot! I'm here to support.

Enjolras: You aren't allowed to support, you are a women. A barricade is no place for ladies.

Me: I thought you were fighting for equality.

Enjolras: We are.

Me: But your being a hypocrite for not allowing women to fight. That sounds very unequal. *Raises eye brow.*

Enjolras: ….

Courfeyrac: She's got you there Apollo.

*Enjolras goes and sulks in the corner.*

Joly: She needs to be decontaminated, she may bring germs.

Me: Shut up Joly…