A/N: As always, please review. Thank you so much to the people who already have and please forgive all the mistakes, they will be fixed soon. For those of you who noticed the crazily gender-ambiguous title this had at the beginning – that taught me to look at what I'm copy-pasting *giggles*. I'll correct the tense problems in the last chapter soon and let me know if I slip again. I'm just writing this in tandem with 'Prayer' and the present tense gets into your head. Someone wondered who would be the Colonel – well, I don't think it will be just one person. While this is based on 'My Fair Lady' it won't follow it too closely so we'll see where we go. Enjoy!

2.

"Why, I am certainly appalled at such words!" Courfeyrac declared, waving his cup of coffee in such enthusiasm that the liquid nearly sloshed over the rim. "There is a real girl somewhere underneath each pile of dirty skirts and matted hair in Paris."

"He knows," Bossuet said, nodding in all seriousness. "He has checked personally and it is all true except for the cases when there is a real boy underneath the skirts."

He chuckled as he attempted to avoid Courfeyrac hitting him with the stack of papers he was holding in his other hand and ended up toppling to the floor together with his chair. Combeferre expelled a small sigh and helped him up to general laughter.

"In all honesty though, Combeferre," Courfeyrac said when they were all seated again. "You cannot back down from such a challenge. You simply must answer it."

"Courfeyrac, please, not you and your bets again. I am not a gambling man."

"But this is not about gambling!" Courfeyrac protested. "It is about the dignity of the poor! And of women! The capabilities of the human spirit!"

Combeferre groaned. "Do not throw my own words back at me. You do not truly expect me to stop some girl on the street and offer to give her lessons in etiquette."

"Wait, why not?" Bossuet asked, clearly amused by the direction the conversation was taking. "We are a society dedicated to the education of the youth, are we not?" He winked. "Perhaps, if you are successful, it may help more of the oppressed see a better future for themselves and join our cause."

"The two of you are out of your minds."

"Are you, perhaps, afraid of what your neighbours will say if you are seen with a woman?"

"Courfeyrac."

"Or you are worried Enjolras may die of shock."

"Do not tease me, Courfeyrac, I am warning you. L'Aigle, what is this expression on your face?"

"Simply concentration. I am trying to imagine Enjolras dying of shock for any reason."

"You will be more successful trying to imagine the king proclaiming a republic and dancing in his nightshirt on the square to celebrate it," Combeferre said with conviction.

Bossuet laughed.

"Thank you, now I will not be able to get that image out of my mind for the rest of the day."

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Courfeyrac went to answer it. Combeferre and Bossuet could not see who stood on the other side on account of Courfeyrac's back obscuring the view but the voice they heard was enough to make them wince.

"I'm looking for monsieur Marius, ain't 'e 'ere?" the voice croaked.

It was impossibly grating. There was a note of femininity somewhere in it but that only made it worse, as the listener not only had to make peace with the fact that someone could sound like that but also that said someone was a member of the fair sex.

"Marius isn't here right now. I am not certain when he will be back," Courfeyrac answered pleasantly.

"You wouldn't know where I can find 'im, would you?" the unknown woman rasped again.

"Ah, mooning in some park, perhaps? I'm afraid I cannot be sure. I swear, half of the time even he is not sure where he is. Is it something urgent?"

"Only…"

She trailed off and, after a few moments, Courfeyrac seemed to take pity on her because he stepped aside.

"Come in and have some coffee with us. Perhaps Marius will come back soon."

As it turned out, the sight was not better than the sound. The creature that entered was a girl – a young girl at that. That fact made Combeferre's heart clench even more in sympathy and outrage at her fate. She was wearing nothing but a chemise and a ragged skirt and her dirty hair hung in rat-tail strands down to her shoulders. Some of her teeth were missing, which she tried to cover when she noticed him looking at her by drawing her lips over them and going from a grin to a sulky, almost accusatory expression. Combeferre felt pity. But somewhere along with the pity, he was slightly disgusted as well. He caught himself thinking that being poor did not necessarily mean not making an effort and from the sight of this creature, she was not only unfortunate but she was doing nothing about it. And she was a heavy drinker – he could tell by the voice. It was the result of too much brandy.

When he realized what he was thinking, his heart dropped. Did he have the right to make any such assumptions? What did he know of this child's fate? Was Lambert, perhaps, right about him?

While Combeferre was struggling with such guilty thoughts, Courfeyrac had invited the girl to a chair, placed a cup of coffee in front of her and presented her to them as 'Eponine'.

"How do you know our Marius?" Bossuet asked curiously. He had already given Courfeyrac a few questioning looks at which Courfeyrac had shrugged. By their friend's manner, it looked like he had seen the girl before but could obviously not discuss her with them in her presence. Combeferre himself wondered. She could not be a prostitute, could she? The thought of Marius and a prostitute was… Oh, God, somewhat humorous, even to him. He hid a smile behind his cup.

"We used t'live in th' same house, we did," she explained with some pride. "I've been to 'is room an' everythin'."

The 'everything' was not much, Combeferre suspected.

"I wrote a note for 'im," Eponine continued a little defensively as if they had dared to contradict her. "I can write, y'know!"

"You seem very educated, Eponine," Courfeyrac remarked lightly and Combeferre noticed he was looking at him with a grin the young doctor did not care for at all. "I bet you could make a truly fine lady someday."

"He'd notice me if I were a proper lady," Eponine muttered, seemingly talking to her cup. Bossuet made a compassionate grimace at Combeferre, who was starting to feel a little attacked.

"If someone offered to teach you to be a lady, would you agree to do anything for that purpose?" Courfeyrac asked, causing Combeferre to glare at him really hard but in vain.

"What would I have t'pay?" the girl asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Courfeyrac assured her. "All of the costs would be covered. Why, I'd cover them personally for a fine girl like you!"

Eponine brightened and assumed a somewhat faraway look. "Oh, that'd be loverly! I'd have a better life if I were a real lady. Men'd like me and not spit at me on th' street. M. Marius might like me. I wouldn' have t'carry stupid messages anymore for m'father an' M. Marius and every damn' connard who passes me by. I might even get a job with th' other girls and they wouldn' look at me like I was dirt 'cause I'd be the most lady of 'em all! If I were clean and talked more refined, they might take me for a maid somewhere and I'd live in a warmer house an' I wouldn't have t'be a lookout an' write letters t'rich people an' pick pockets for m'dad…"

She snapped out of her daze to see Bossuet looking at her in sympathy, Courfeyrac beaming and Combeferre with his face in his hands.

"Extra points if you get her married to your Lambert!" Courfeyrac whispered.