This is a rough draft. I'm sorry if it's awful. Please leave constructive criticism.

Auguste had always been a quiet boy. He had always wanted to keep up with his friend, Gavroche. But his legs had always been too weak to do so. He had tried to help in the fight, too. But he wasn't any help. The night of the battle, his mother had taken his crutch and hid it, so he would have never been able to make it to the battlefield. That isn't to say he didn't try. But he had been too late.

He reflected on that night too often. Usually when he found himself at the ABC Cafe. He would sit in the window, his crutch leaning against his shoulder, as he stared out to the street, eyes distant and unfocused. When his mother died of disease, he found himself there more often than not. The owner of the cafe had yet to chase the street rat out. He hoped that day would never come. Today was of the typical kind. It was gloomy and overcast, threatening to rain any minute.

"Gus."

Auguste frowned. Was that really been Gavroche calling him?

"Gus?"

No, it couldn't have been. Gavroche was dead.

"Auguste."

Finally, the boy blinked and looked for the source of the voice. Marius was standing beside him, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. "I heard," he said.

Auguste frowned and looked down at his bare feet.

"I didn't think I'd see you here, though," Marius went on.

"I have nowhere else to go," Auguste whispered, his voice scratchy. He hadn't used it in a while, what with there being to reason to.

Marius nodded. After a moment, he wordlessly took hold of the boy in his left arm, hoisting him up upon his hip. Auguste didn't object. He held on to Marius, grateful for any sort of human contact at this point.

Marius and Auguste still didn't speak as the man turned and carried the boy out of the cafe.
-

When they arrived at the Pontmercy home, Cosette was in the office working on paperwork for her late father. Marius walked straight there, the silent Auguste still hiding his face in the man's shoulder. Cosette looked up and blinked, faltering.

"U-uhm, hello, my love," she began. "W-who is...I mean..."

"This is Auguste," Marius said, going to sit on one of the chairs across the desk from his wife. He leaned his cane against the chair and settled the boy on his lap, taking his crutch and leaning it beside his cane. Auguste curled into him, still not looking at Cosette. "He was...well..." He cleared his throat. Even talking about the poor, lost boy got him choked up. "He was a good friend of Gavroche's. And his mother passed the other day."

"Oh, the poor dear," Cosette said, her voice and face softening as she looked over at the boy. "I'm so sorry to hear that..."

"He has weak legs," Marius went on. "But he's got a good heart. I think he deserves a better chance."

Cosette nodded. "You're right," she said certainly. "He does. Auguste?" She asked, looking back at him.

Slowly, Auguste looked over at her.

"Won't you stay with us?" she asked.

The boy stared at her hopeful face, not really sure of what was going on right now. Were they really going to take care of him? A part of him wanted to say "no." That he could fend for himself. But his empty stomach protested louder. He was a cripple, there was no doubt about that. Cripples didn't last long in the streets.

Slowly, uncertainly, he nodded. Cosette grinned as Marius smoothed the boy's hair.

"First things first," Marius said. "We need to get you something to eat."

"Then a bath," Cosette insisted. The adults chuckled as Auguste returned his thoughts. A glimmer of hope shone through the darkness. Was he really going to be OK, now?
-

Despite his hunger, he ate very little that night. Marius and Cosette weren't surprised, though. Grief had hit them all hard. Auguste harder than most. When they finally gave up on encouraging him to finish his half-eaten chicken breast, Cosette asked Marius to give the boy a bath.

"You heard her," he said with a grin to the boy. "The Lady of the House wants you to get cleaned up."

Auguste frowned. "I hate baths..." he said quietly. But Marius just chuckled.

"I'm sure you do," he said. "Wasn't a fan of the myself as a boy. But we have to do what we're told."

The boy didn't budge. But he didn't fight, either, when Marius came over and picked him up with his free arm again. The man frowned as he carried the child up the stairs. He was far too light. Far too malnourished. And the fact that he hadn't eaten much at dinner... Would he and Cosette really be able to nurse Auguste to a health the boy had never known?

The rain pounded on the roof as Marius carried the boy into the bathroom where the house's servants had prepared the bath and clean clothes for Auguste. He placed him on the floor and sat down beside him.

"Don't tell me I'm going to have to help you undress," Marius said with a chuckle. Auguste frowned at him.

"I'm not taking a bath," the boy insisted.

"C'mon, Gus," Marius almost begged. "I-"

"Don't call me 'Gus!'" Auguste exclaimed. "We were never friends."

Marius frowned. "All right, I'm sorry," he said, holding his hand out, palms down, in a calming gesture. "Auguste. Please. If you want to get well, you need a bath."

"Who said I wanted to get well!?"

"Auguste-"

"Everyone's gone! Gavroche is gone! My mamman is gone!" Tears began to well in the boy's eyes as he began to scream. "All your friends are gone! Why do I want to get well!? Why does it matter!?"

Marius reached out and caught the boy as he collapsed into sobs.