Cacher (To Hide)

In the now almost delicate rainfall, Éponine dragged her feet dismally to his home.

She wasn't bothered greatly by the rain, in fact it helped soothe her aching body. Her eyes were noticeably tired and empty, and she silently hoped that her eyes would be the only damaged thing he would notice about her. How could she ever expect Marius to love and care for someone as unkempt and poor as she?

In fact, the Thénardier's were the first to be kicked out onto the street, now without a home, and without a friend to go to – not that they had any to begin with. If Marius' grandfather would permit scum like them to live off what they had till a home came along, then perhaps they wouldn't be wallowing in the mud the rain had ever so easily made.

But Éponine knew the cold, bitter truth.

In fact, that was why she felt so horrendous and betrayed. Every shred of innocence she had left had been wiped clean off the slate, leaving her feeling empty and abused.

All because of her family...

All because of the con artists she called 'mother' and 'father' so graciously. Why hadn't she left them by now? Her sister had… Why hadn't she simply run away in the dead of night, never to return?

Because she had nowhere to run to.

Now staring at Marius' grandfather's home, embellished with flowers and ivy spreading it's dewy leaves and wrapping itself around every nook and cranny – Éponine felt like a piece of lint or dirt in comparison.

She was.

She couldn't ever let Marius' find out about what her father made her do the last night, it would change the very little he thought of her and she couldn't bear the thought of that.

Shaking the last of her deranged thoughts loose, she cleared her throat.

"Marius!" She called out, letting her voice ring in the air a little.

"'Ponine?"

"Come down! It's raining something awful!"

He let out a hearty laugh and her heart began to race. She loved his laugh.

"Just a second!"

"Alright!" She giggled, leaning against the wettened brick walls.

Les amis de l'abaissé,she thought grimly.

She had known her younger brother would always hang around Musain during their meetings, hoping to get the upper hand or something. She had seen him there every time they gathered. That's what had given her the idea to visit as often as she possibly could, never truly letting anybody recognize who she was.

Not even Marius.

Wearing an oversized coat and cap, Éponine had posed as a man sitting through all of their lengthy meetings. Knowing how exclusive this society of theirs was, she had worn the disguise in order to leave the house without being caught in the streets and to listen in on what Marius had become so dedicated to recently. Perhaps she could impress him with her new found knowledge of the government and the 'republique' that they had kept speaking so fondly of.

It wasn't until her possessions were sold for money, the family went bankrupt, were kicked out of their inn and onto the disease ridden, filthy streets, that she had misplaced her 'clever' disguise.

How she dreamt of being involved in these meetings day by day with Marius by her side, but no more.

Now, she would just have to pretend as though she had never listened to the stimulating conversations they had engaged in, inspiring her day by day.

The leader was a gruff looking young man named Enjolras. She only identified him by his soft tufts of curly blonde hair falling neatly in front of his face and the colour red. All the man would wear was red. She recognized a few other faces out on the streets, but didn't mind their names. There was a drunkard, a flirt, and a poet. What a strange and wonderful group, she thought blissfully as Marius walked out, holding out a sheet over his head.

"You're all wet!" He teased, handing it to her, "Keep it."

"But –"

"You need it more than I do." He smiled, moving past her.

"Thank you." She sighed; she didn't deserve any protection or his pity.

She deserved to have the rain soak every last part of her; maybe it would wash all her wrongs away. She took a deep breath and tiredly shut her eyes, taking her time moving along the streets.

"Epon-" Marius stopped himself at the sight of the bruises underneath them.

They had turned a gruesome purple colour, slightly fading to yellow near her dirty cheeks.

"What?"

"Your eyes." He tried to sound as polite as he possibly could, "Did your father - er - ?"

"I, um – yes." She lied, stifling angry tears. "Yes he did."

"You've got to stay away from him."

"That's easier said than done." She muttered pathetically, changing the subject "Anything new?"

"Well," Marius let out a yawn, "we've all gotten fired."

"What?! How?"

"Jobs that take up the most money get shut down first."

"Well that's stupid."

"Tell me about it..." Marius shook his head and turned left on the street, letting Éponine catch a glimpse of where she had done her 'duties' the previous night.

A shudder ran up her spine, but Marius didn't notice, he was too busy rambling on about his job. In fact, he barely noticed much about her at all. It baffled her that her bruises had finally caught his attention, at least something did…

The cafe was just a block away and the sooner they got there, the farther she could run away from her past.

...

The cafe was bustling again. Men danced on the tables whilst others were drunk and passed out in various nooks and crannies throughout the building.

The members of the society were easily distinguishable.

"Marius!" The drunkard called out, eyes aglow, hiccupping afterwards.

"Grantaire," Marius sighed sarcastically, "someone take the bottle away from him."

Grantaire cradled it sarcastically afterwards and took a seat next to Enjolras.

The leader looked quite exhausted – what had happened to his determined demeanour?

"Lamarque is reaching the end of his life." He sighed grievously, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"What?" Éponine gasped, all eyes riveting towards her.

Lamarque had been the only member of the government helping the poor. Without that last bit of income – her family barely had enough money for a scrap of food.

Ignoring her, Enjolras carried on, "If he dies, and the economy gets worse – we'll have to take matters into our own hands."

"Like what?" The poet asked eagerly.

"I'm not sure."

"Why don't you protest?" A little voice suggested.

Éponine immediately recognized it to be her brother and she quickly began looking for his location.

"Gavroche?" She called, looking below and above her.

"Éponine?" With that, a few footsteps were heard and Gavroche came into view behind the bar, "What are you doing at a bar?"

"Why are you here? Still trying to become a part of the society?"

"Didn't you always want to be?" He snapped, getting a dirty look from her.

"Not ever, actually." She lied, hoping her brother wouldn't realize it had been his dear sister posing as a man.

"Well, I am a part of the society. Right boys?" He chimed.

"Sure." Marius responded, messing up his hair and laughing, giving Éponine butterflies.

"Alright, alright, moving on." Enjolras responded, slightly angering Éponine. Was France the only thing he cared for?

"Gavroche has a point," he continued, "if we let the people know of his illness, then maybe they'll help us. The more people we have on our side, the better."

"I agree." Combeferre replied, nodding his head approvingly.

"Tomorrow at six, we'll meet in front of Corinth. We'll spill out onto the streets and we'll protest!" Enjolras declared proudly, "We'll have to spread out though. Tell the poorest of the poor what's happening before anyone else." He jotted something into his notebook feverishly, his pen simply trying to keep up with his mind, "We'll need someone to do that and just that."

"I will." Éponine offered, catching his attention.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded reluctantly.

"I'll go with her!" Gavroche exclaimed, knowing they would never let him join the others.

"Fine. I need to speak with you both then."

Éponine nodded hesitantly and followed Gavroche into a small room Enjolras had walked into urgently.

She remembered the room very well. Enjolras would venture off and open a set of books around him, taking notes as though his life depended on it. Sometimes he would be at it through the entire meeting, giving Éponine more time to listen to Marius lecture the gang while Grantaire took swigs of his brandy.

"What's your name?" He asked her, bringing her out of her daydreams.

"Éponine."

"Éponine," he repeated, trying to avoid making eye contact with her, "take Gavroche and move along the Seine. Tell the homeless of the protests we'll be having first, then move your way up. Tell them that Lamarque is ill and we're going to take over for him."

"Are we allowed to do that?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Take over?" He asked, "I've worked with Lamarque whilst studying law, he's the reason I'm doing this."

"Alright." She nodded, "I'll do that then."

"GRANTAIRE!" Someone called from outside, making Gavroche laugh and run outside the room, eager to see what had become of the boy.

"Does he always do this?" Éponine asked, referring to Grantaire's antics, already knowing the answer.

"We've gotten used to it."

She smiled but a terrible pain crippled her.

Falling to the floor, she turned red with embarrassment and immediately scrambled to her feet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, frightened at what had happened to the poor girl.

Éponine nodded, but judging by her dazed eyes, Enjolras knew she wasn't.

"Please, leave me alone." She begged, stifling tears once more, a knot forming in her throat

"Mademoiselle –" but Enjolras had stopped himself once he came to see a deep red gash peeking out from her fallen sleeve, bearing her shoulders, "you need to see a doctor –"

"Not a word of this to anyone." She warned, suddenly hiding her face as his eyes widened.

Running away with her hair sprawled out in front of her eyes; she exited the cafe and leaned against the slanted brick walls that held it together, breathing heavily.

It was too late though, Enjolras had recognized her face from the meetings.

They had been acquainted previously. Why hadn't he realized that Marius' 'shadow' was the same man listening eagerly to his lectures during the meetings? What a sly little gamine!

What else didn't he know about her?

She must have had so much feedback from their meetings, so many of their ideas fresh in her mind...

Running past his group of friends anxiously, he opened the doors to find Éponine – but she was gone.