Yes, I know, I'm back. Finally. And what's this? I'm writing about Cosette? Shocking!

But yes, this story is about Cosette, as you can gather. It's kind of like an AU life story, based on her running away from the Thenardiers when she was eight. Now for a few notes:

I did in fact jumble some of the ages, especially when it gets to introducing the Amis. I don't like them being so old, and making them all younger makes their friendship with Cosette less perv-y.

Cosette is based on a mixture of Eva Ibbotson's characters (Harriet, Anna, and Ruth), as are a few plotlines. Eva Ibbotson is my favorite author by far. And this story is less of a fanfiction and more of a story that I wanted to write, and decided to place these characters in.

It is named after a poem by Gertrude Stein. I had to sing the poem once, and it reminded me of Cosette, so I named the story after it.

I Am Rose, By Gertrude Stein

I am Rose, my eyes are blue;

I am Rose, and who are you?

I am Rose, and when I sing,

I am Rose, like anything.

Chapter One: The Great Escapade

"And when Fleur realized that she had at long last found her mother, she rejoiced. Oh, what a party was thrown at the castle that night! The two embraced, and lived happily together in the castle for years to come. The End."

Cosette smiled to herself as she listened to the sound of Madame Thenardier closing the book and setting it down on the table beside the fireplace. She pulled her bare knees close to her chest and peered out from beneath the writing desk, where she was seated in silent secrecy, hidden away from the eyes of the family gathered on the sofa.

"Well, wasn't that a happy story, mes anges?" Madame Thenardier asked, her voice dripping with the adoration she showed to her two daughters. Little blonde Azelma giggled and nodded her head, so that her ribbon-adorned ringlets bounced.

"I liked Fleur's kitty," she said in her high-pitched child's voice as she reached for her own cat, who was attempting to sleep some feet away.

Eponine Thenardier, two years older, stretched out her legs from where she was seated on the floor, and hummed in agreement. "I liked the prince," she declared, a synthesized air of regality in her voice. It was a habit of hers to pretend, in her mind and actions, that she was much older than seven - a year younger than Cosette. Her mother naturally found the act to be charming. It secretly peeved Cosette, as Eponine was finding in each day new ways to torment the unfortunate little "maid".

At that, the unfortunate little maid who was not supposed to be listening to Madame's story! Cosette had completely forgotten, having been wrapped up in the wonderful tale of little Princess Fleur and her quest to find her mother. The happy ending had put such a smile in Cosette's heart.

The little girl had a fascination with mothers, a feature not uncommon in those who do not have a maternal figure. She was enthralled by the saintly women in storybooks, and her eyes followed any mother and child pair in the streets or the markets. It had become a routine for Cosette, in fact, that every night when she climbed beneath the meager blanket on her pallet, she would close her eyes and simply look at the mental image she had of her mother, until she fell asleep and dreamed of her. There were a million questions Cosette longed to ask - what does she look like? What is her name? Where does she live? These questions were only answered by the daydreams which got Cosette in trouble while she was supposed to be washing the kitchen floor.

But listening to Madame's story, Cosette had begun to form another idea.

Cosette's thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a series of shrill noises. The first few cries came from the direction of the bedrooms back behind the parlor, and belonged inevitably to a baby. The next noise was more or less a booming shout, coming from Madame Thenardier.

"Cosette?" Her voice made the little girl's ears ring. "Where are you?"

"Here, Madame," Cosette squeaked, scrambling up from her position. No one saw her emerge from beneath the table - thankfully, or there would have been a punishment in store.

"Well, don't just stand there, Mademoiselle," Madame Thenardier sneered, her daughters holding similar mocking expressions. "Your baby is crying."

It was a running taunt - ever since Cosette had first shown affection for the little neglected Thenardier boy, he had wholly become her responsibility, day and night. She felt pity for the poor creature. Hehad parents, and yet he knew no care from them. For this reason, Cosette fancied herself a sort of caretaker for the boy. They were in similar positions - they had parents, but were still orphans in a manner or speaking. In contrast, however, Cosette would not even consider the idea that her mother did not want her.

Holding her head low as she passed by the family, Cosette made her way to the back bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she hurried over to the bare bassinet, in which the wailing toddler lay tangled up in the blankets.

"Oh, don't flail!" she was quick to cry, removing the blankets from where they were beginning to smother him. "You'll strangle yourself!" How long had he been lying here, crying, before someone heard him? The thought was tear provoking.

Cosette lifted the boy out of the bed and, with her thin arms straining, held him against her chest. He was not a burden to hold - he was as thin as any child of his age, having been born three weeks premature. Cosette stroked his little head of wispy brown hair, and whispered in his ear.

"Now stop that crying, Gavroche," she ordered. "Madame will not be happy if you keep it up!" In moments, the child had calmed down, his face nestled in Cosette's neck. The two near-orphans made a touching picture of mother and child.

"I wish I didn't have to leave," Cosette whispered furtively, lest someone be listening in. "Oh, but when I find my mother, I will come back for you. I am sure she would be happy to take care of both of us, Gavroche." Cosette lifted up the boy and kissed him on the nose. But as she looked at his damp little eyes, a further step in her plan came into existence.

All at once, a cry from the parlor made Cosette's hair stand on end.

"Cosette, you little slut!" It was Monsieur Thenardier, and by the tone in his voice, it was apparent this was not the first time he had called her. Gavroche still in her arms, Cosette hurried to the door and opened it, quietly from habit.

"Yes?" she answered in a small voice. Madame Thenardier had disappeared into the kitchen to prepare supper, and her daughters were playing with the cat, Chocolat, on the hearth rug. Their father, a wiry and red-faced man, stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his clothes and hands dirty from work outside in the stable. He and some neighbor men had been working on the faulty roof, sweating away in the miserable July heat. Cosette winced and came forward.

"There is no water, girl," he barked.

"I will see to it, Monsieur," the girl said hurriedly, silently chastising herself. Of course, Monsieur would want to soak his feet when he came in from working in the hot sun.

"Quickly, now," Monsieur Thenardier growled, rather like a dog.

This is my chance, said a little voice in Cosette's head, and she took a deep breath. "I'm taking Gavroche with me," she announced hesitantly. "I think the air would do him good."

"As you wish," drawled the man. "He's as good as yours."

Cosette hurried to the her nook beneath the stairs to slide on her wooden clogs, and as she did so she secretly slipped a few items into her apron pockets - some francs she had snatched from a drunken guest in anticipation of her plan; a little locket she had acquired in a similar manner, which she imagined she could sell; and a canteen of stale water which she had kept by her bed some weeks ago when she had had a cough. These items attained, Cosette scurried once again past the hating eyes of the Thenardiers, and left quickly through the front door.

"Never to return," she whispered dramatically as she headed for the side of the building, where the water bucket sat.

Her plan was simple - she would go into the woods to get the water, and purposely get "lost" (she knew every inch of the woods by heart). Then, once she got to a particularly dark and treacherous part of the forest, where there was a rough drop-off to the more rapid part of the stream that ran through the area, she would climb down and embed the bucket in the shrubbery at the bottom. The drama would play out further when, hopefully, the Thenardiers would come looking for her, wondering what was taking the girl so long. They would find the bucket next to the deep stream, and would assume the worst - the little serving girl had fallen into the water, and subsequently drowned. It was like the plot from a storybook, plotting one's false death and the like.

The summer heat was already making Cosette's feet sweat inside of the wooden clogs, so the murky shade of the forest was a welcome change as she stepped beneath the first welcoming trees.

"Bir!" gurgled Gavroche, motioning with one dimpled finger to a large grey bird roosting in a nearby tree for the night.

"Yes, that is a bird," cooed Cosette, readjusting her grip on the boy.

As she walked, Cosette continued to whisper tender words to the small child, and her mind pondered over the task at hand. Had she been older, reality might have made itself more clear earlier on, but in Cosette's eight-year-old mind, it was a feasible and quite undemanding idea to just hop into a carriage once she got to the road, and then start searching. There were offices in cities where you could find people, weren't there? Couldn't the police do that? So of course, Cosette would not have to do all the searching herself.

It was about half an hour into the walk when Cosette finally heard the sound of water close by. Hurrying along her way, careful not to miscalculate the distance and actually fall off of the ledge, Cosette found her way to the point of descent, and looked down at the stream.

"I won't be long," she said to Gavroche, settling him down safely against the closest tree. He put one hand in his mouth and immediately became preoccupied. Cosette took the bucket and got down on her hands and knees. She moved about until she located the safest way down the ledge, a series of rocks suitable for climbing. It would have been an easier task to simply drop the bucket, but there was too much of a chance that it would end up in the stream. Cosette continued to climb.

Once firmly planted on the small sliver of ground at the bottom of the ledge, some eight or nine feet down from where she had left Gavroche, Cosette dropped the bucket into the tangle of bushes, feeling rather heroic at her effort. Once she was finished, she sat down next to the water, took off her shoes, and gave her aching feet a quick wash. Now the question was, which way to go from here?

Sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she did so, Cosette pondered the possibilities. It had been her intentions to stay on the usual path, the one that headed towards the spring, and then keep going, towards the farthest edge of the woods. But then a scenario played out in her mind: it had taken her longer to get this far than she had expected - what if Monsieur Thenardier caught up with her? Everything would be spoiled!

So I won't take the path, Cosette thought resolutely, standing back up. She surveyed the area of woods around the stream, and an idea came to her. I'll follow the water upstream. It had to leadsomewhere.

It was much harder to climb back up the ledge than it had been to get down, and Cosette had to pause halfway up. She could hear Gavroche saying in his baby voice, "Coseh? Coseh?" In his immature tongue, the "t" noise was not audible. She hoped that he would not wander too close to the edge in search of his caretaker.

"I'm right here, 'Vroche," Cosette said breathlessly as she reached the top. Now came the task of climbing back down with the child in her arms. The eight feet back down looked like a mile. Breathing deeply, Cosette took Gavroche close to her chest and edged herself back to the ledge. She put one foot down to the next rock, and then moved slowly so that she was sitting on it. She continued like this until she was in jumping distance of the ground.

All of the climbing had worn Cosette out decently, and furthermore the now-swift sinking of the sun was alerting Cosette to the amount of time she had been on her feet already. Still, there was much traveling to be done. She hoisted Gavroche up against her shoulder and began walking upstream. It was the direction she had been walking, but being several feet below the path put her out of sight if anyone were to come searching. Cosette felt ingenious.

Another hour later found the woods to be entirely dark. Gavroche had fallen asleep against Cosette's neck, and presently the girl's feet were beginning to feel as though they would outright fall off of her legs at any moment. Now, she was walking barefoot, having removed her clogs some half-hour back when they had continued to pick up small stones that pressed painfully into her calloused heels.

Cosette hummed to herself, softly so as not to wake up Gavroche. The scenery was becoming gloomier as she kept walking. The trees were closer together, making it harder to see far in front of her, and the stream she was following was now deep and smooth, making less noise as it flowed gently on in the opposite direction. The girl yawned widely. It must have been… nine o' clock? It was impossible to tell. Either way, Cosette felt as though it was time to rest. But where? At any moment Monsieur Thenardier or his wife could show up, wielding lanterns, looking to bring back their escaped servant girl. The thoughts of such a future were chilling.

And so was the prospect of falling asleep out here. There were bigger dangers than the Thenardiers in the woods at night, and Cosette shuddered to think of falling asleep in this murky darkness. She was afraid of no fantastical beast of sorts, but there were bears, and wolves too, eager to prey on two small, defenseless, sleeping children.

In light of this fear, Cosette continued walking. But as she went, her surroundings were beginning to swim before her eyes. The trees ran together, as did her thoughts. She yawned again. She needed rest.

Her movements dreary, Cosette crossed over a narrow part of the stream and looked around for a well-hidden place to rest. It must be off anything resembling a path, she resolved, heading for a thicket up ahead that was sure to be large enough to house an eight-year-old. But as she neared it, something moved on the ground at her feet, and she jumped at least a yard back, her eyes wide. Gavroche was startled awake at the sudden movement, and he uttered a little cry of shock at the darkness around him. When he had fallen asleep, it had still been light enough to see a foot in front of one's face.

Easing her heart to slow down, Cosette took careful steps past the thicket, hoping she would not step on whatever it was she had seen. It had looked like a snake - but do snakes come out in the woods on summer nights? Perhaps near a creek… Cosette did not know, but she thought it better to keep looking.

It was around this point that she saw what appeared to be a fence some feet in front of her. It was large, and even in the dark she could tell it was painted white, for the color reflected what little moonlight made its way down here. The only thing masking the object's identity was a layer of ivy growing up the side of it, making it almost appear to be one sideways, rectangular tree, going on for miles in both directions. Suddenly excited, Cosette darted up to the thing. The planks of the fence were far enough apart so that she could have seen through to the other side were it not for the ivy. So, Cosette used one hand to brush the prickly plant out of her way.

Through the fence, Cosette saw a vast expanse of nearly clear land, at the far end of which was a collection of lit squares that could only belong to the windows of an occupied house. The sudden sighting of civilization brought a smile to Cosette's face after having wandered around in the woods for almost two hours. She did not need a place to stay permanently, but perhaps the people who lived here would let her sleep in their house for the night. In fact, she did not even need to sleep inside. She could ask to stay in the backyard, in the garden that she could see before her. Anything to get a night's sleep where she knew she would not be attacked by any sort of bear or wolf.

But as she looked up at the six feet of whitewashed wood, she was faced with the great difficulty of how to make it inside the yard in the first place. She could climb it, perhaps, but not with Gavroche in her arms. Suddenly, she got an idea and dropped to her feet, placing Gavroche on the ground beside her. She felt where the fence met with the floor of the woods - there were a few open inches. Quickly, Cosette took the soil beneath the fence and began to dig a hole, just large enough to squeeze Gavroche beneath the fence.

"Go on," she urged him, attempting to slip him through the little hole. Once he was safe on the other side, Cosette leaned her head through to look at him and said, "Now stay there, mon ange."

Climbing the fence was easier than it had at first seemed to Cosette. The ivy was strong enough to hold the feet of an undernourished eight-year-old, and it served her as a sort of a ladder until she reached the top. But once she got up about five feet, there was no more ivy, and the fence felt slippery and unstable beneath her bare feet. It was time to jump. Cosette looked down at the ground just inside the yard, but it was too dark to see where Gavroche was. Praying she did not land on him, Cosette jumped.

When she hit the ground, her head landed at a severe angle, and she only had time to glance up at the dark sky before she blacked out.

While unconscious, Cosette dreamt up a scene at the Thenardiers' inn. She dreamt that Madame and Monsieur were sitting about the kitchen, angry looks on their red faces. Eponine and Azelma were seated in the parlor, playing once more with the cat. Madame Thenardier looked at her husband and said with disgust, "I suppose we'll have to find ourselves a new maid."

"Ah, yes," growled her husband. He scratched his beard. "Shame about the boy. He might have grown up to help her with the chores."

"Do you suppose she went to look for her mother?" In Cosette's dream, Madame's voice was not as loud, and her face was easier to look at.

"Perhaps," her husband said with a shrug.

"Well then maybe we should write to the woman; tell her what has happened to her little girl. It's only the honest thing to do."

The idea was considered - they would write to Cosette's mother, and perhaps then she would come and find her daughter and take her back for good. Of course, she would have to pay first…

It must be noted that while some dreams can be considered portholes to realities, this one was only partly so. The truth was slightly altered.

Quite a ways back in the woods stood a weedy little man and his large, burly wife. Each of them held lit lanterns, and hanging off of the woman's arms were two little girls, one plump and blonde and the other slender and brunette. Both of the little girls were half-asleep where they stood.

"Could be anywhere out here," the man mumbled. He began moving in one direction, but when his foot came down on air rather than ground, he recoiled in shock, looking down the sudden drop off. "Well, well…" he muttered to himself, bending down and shining the light from his lantern down the ledge.

"Maman, I want to go home," whined Azelma as her father searched with his eagle eyes. Madame Thenardier silenced her daughter with a tender kiss on the head.

"Lucia," the man called out suddenly. "I… I found something." He had climbed down the drop-off, and was now holding up the discarded bucket. He motioned out beside him, and his wife saw the fast-moving stream.

Madame Thenardier's thoughts were suddenly, for the first time, on her little son. "Mon Dieu," she whispered. "My boy…"

"What will we tell Fantine?" Monsieur Thenardier asked gruffly, fingering the handle of the bucket.

"We'll… need money for the funeral…" Madame Thenardier suggested, tears coming to her eyes.

She watched as her husband climbed back up the rocks, and they returned down the path they way they had come, a morbid, deathly air about them.

The next day, they would write Fantine in Montrieul-sur-Mer. The poor woman would receive the letter four days later and pay a man to have it read to her.

Her despair need not be described. Unaware that her daughter still lived, poor Fantine continued working in misery.

Thus ends Cosette's days as a working girl for the Thenardiers. For when she woke up the morning after her great escapade, she found herself in a different world entirely.