A/N: Another update! Sorry if I haven't been so regular with these things. This will be short, since I'm trying to figure out a way to segue the plot to where I want it.
Lost and Found Faces
"Why do they all have to run so fast?" Fantine wondered as she walked more quickly to keep up with the three youngsters who had outpaced her. After a hearty breakfast courtesy of Bahorel, they had all gone into Les Halles. Fantine had put on a clean dress and a hat with the intent of impressing a potential employer.
"As I was saying Feuilly, there are places for everything. You just have to know where to look," Bahorel said in what was meant to be a joking sermon. "Say, if you are at a loss, there's a friend of mine who has good recommendations for everything."
"Thank you, but I suppose I should manage to get a job on my own qualifications," Feuilly said uncomfortably.
"You have to get some more fabric and muscle on you, or you'll be taken for a schoolboy," Bahorel pointed out.
"Which you still are?" Feuilly retorted, much to his new friend's laughter.
Cosette had run back and grabbed Fantine's hand. "Maman, look!" she shouted, pointing to a display of dolls in a stall.
"Not now, petite. We have to wait for M. Valjean to get back," Fantine said. She said a silent prayer, hoping that the fan in the window would be a sign enough for her benefactor.
Cosette's lip drooped. "But it's so pretty!"
"I don't have enough money," Fantine said firmly. "Some other day, I promise, Cosette. Maman has to find some work first."
"Madame, are you a seamstress? I know of a lace maker's down that road," Bahorel said amiably to Fantine.
"Oh really? What is the address?"
"I am not sure, but look for a green house with lace in the windows. You can't miss it or the signpost above the door."
"Thank you, M. Bahorel," Fantine said.
"Bahorel will do. Monsieur is too…out of date," the student said. "I'll help Feuilly here find a place,"
"What of your classes today?" Feuilly asked.
"That can wait another day," Bahorel said confidently, clapping the teenager on the back.
"Alright, take care," Fantine said, taking Cosette's hand. She looked back briefly just in time to watch the young men disappear into the throng.
"I know this street," she told herself. If she blurred her vision a little, she could almost see again the fluttering skirts, the giggling couples, and the haranguing groups from another time she knew.
"Maman, it's Ponine!" Cosette suddenly cried, tugging on her mother's hand. Fantine wheeled around and felt rage rise up within her at what she saw.
A little girl wearing a dirty calico dress cowered in the doorway of the lace shop, pleading with a rather blowzy looking woman wearing a heavily trimmed dress. This woman was holding a broom as if to sweep the child out into the street.
"I told you, get your hands away from my things! I can't have dirt all over the lace in this shop!" the woman barked.
"But Papa told me to give this letter! I can't go home until I give it!" Eponine yelled, her tone angry yet plaintive at once.
Fantine marched up to them. "What is the matter? Eponine, what brings you here?" she asked.
Eponine looked up at Fantine with an expression of shock that was half-hidden under her tangled auburn hair. "If I don't give this letter, we'll spend another night under the bridge! I don't want to!" she said loudly.
"Oh God!" Fantine murmured, unaware that in the commotion her hat had gone askew. "Under a bridge? All of you?"
The woman in the doorway had grown silent. "La Blonde?!"
At the sound of her old nickname, Fantine glanced at this woman's face. Despite the ruddy, rotund appearance, she could recognize a trace of delicateness left in her cheeks. "It can't be--but she was the only one of us who knew how to shout like that!"
"Favorite, what have you come to?" Fantine gasped.