So, let me apoligize in advance, because I've got no idea whatever how this is going to turn out. It kind of stemmed from my little sister (who, by the way knows nothing about Les Mis except Jean Valjean stole a loaf of bread and Cosette is married to Marius) bugging my friend and me at the pool… anyway, she was being sarcastic—I think—and came up with this idea… and now I'm writing it. Don't know why.
Disclaimer—I own neither Les Mis (I don't know who does, but it's not me) nor the idea for this plot (As stated above, that is my sister's). On the other hand, I do own… well, nothing actually. Never mind!
Just six inches. Only six inches. Six inches and a pane of glass. The thin and undernourished girl gave a shuddering sigh as she contemplated the wonderfully real, wonderfully solid loaf of bread in the baker's window. It was more than she'd had to eat in at least a week. How good it would feel to simply reach across those six inches and grab the bread! She raised a frail hand and pressed it against the window as though she could somehow make the pane vanish.
The sound of sudden laughter cut across her thoughts. Guiltily, Cosette turned away from the window. She ought to be returning to Madame with the things she'd been sent out to buy. She gathered the packages into her arms from where she'd placed them on the floor, and began the walk back to the inn.
The summer afternoon, quickly fading into twilight, seemed to mock Cosette's sour mood. Even the people of the little village—women exchanging gossip with their neighbors, men planning to meet for a drink, and children wrestling on the dirt paths—seemed so much more content than she could ever be.
Then she was back at the inn, and through the door—propped open to catch the summer breezes, and probably to rid the place of the foul smells its nightly customers introduced to it before tonight's arrived—she could see Eponine and Azelma sitting down for their evening meal, their mother standing near them, eyeing them with a loving expression Cosette knew would never be directed at her—not by anybody.
Something inside her broke. Perhaps it was the hunger, maybe something else, but she dropped the packages she was holding, and, leaving them lying in the dirt, took off in a dead sprint back to the bakers, into whose window she had gazed so longingly only a few minutes ago. She didn't stop when she got there, but smashed the glass and reached across the six inches of empty space to take the loaf of bread.
No one had stopped here until this point, mainly because the sight of the Lark breaking away from her typical state of don't-notice-me-please-don't-notice-me-ism and running anywhere was a strange sight. Now, she stared with wide, shocked eyes at the people who stared at her in quite the same way.
--
Prison? Prison for what? What had she done that was so bad? Taken a loaf of bread? Big deal! Five years for only that? She'd be thirteen by the time she got out of here!
Of course, things could be worse. Everyone, to the smallest children, knew that some prisoners had to go to horrible galleys where they were worked like slaves year round. At least she wasn't going there.
From the point of view of anyone watching Cosette, had anyone cared enough to do so, the little girl would have seemed no dfferent from how she had ever looked. Quiet, sitting silently, going where she was bid, staring down at the ground and twisting her fingers in an agitated fashion.
But she was really quite different. Something had changed inside her. She was seeing the world for how it really was for the first time. Before, her small world had extended no farther than the tiny village of Montfermeill, and the only people she ever saw for more than a few minutes at a time were the Thenardiers. She had felt sure that if she could somehow get away from them, she would find that the rest of humanity were much better. Now, she could see that this wasn't true.
And so she was for five years. Five years in which she had nothing to do but examine all she knew of the world, and declare it bad. As she grew older, she grew bitter. She was released when she was 13, turned out on her ear with nothing but the rags on her back.
--
She was sitting against a building on the side of the road as night set in, staring down at her fingers as she had down every day of her life since that summers day when she was eight. When it was almost completely dark, a group of boys had emerged from said building, laughing at something. One caught sight of Cosette and nudged his friend. The whole group of them approached her.
She did not seem to hear their taunts, see their rude gestures, or even smell the offensive odor that rolled from them in waves. They had given her up as a bad job and turned to look for more amusing bait, when she jumped to her feet and began to thoroughly wail on the closest boy, who happened to be over a head taller than her.
He might have been taller, but she was angry, and had not had anything to take the anger out on for years. Eventually she was pulled of the boy by one of his friends, but her victim was now lying still on the ground. Not dead, but very badly injured. All of them stared at him for at least a minute, and then as his friends turned to Cosette for revenge, they found that she had fled.
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Short, but whatever, just an intro. Also, I know they would not have put Cosette in prison for five years, but this is a fanfiction. Also, fair warning, the stuff in M. Sur. M. (Fantine dying and Jean Valjean being arrested) will happen in a couple of chapters, meaning five years later than canon. Just more AU stuff to make the story interesting.
Also, please do not review. No, not reverse psychology-- I just always forget to read my reviews anyway, so it's a waste of effort. Especially if you want to tell me this story stinks, because I already know that.