Disclaimer: No, I don't own Les Miserables except in my dreams.

AN: 1)It's a slightly rambling style on purpose. I don't think grammar and sentence structure is on most peoples' minds when they write their confession.2) I'm not Catholic, so if I got the wording wrong no offense meant. 3) I deliberately skipped a lot of what Valjean did in his life, and if you read the original Les Miserables, Valjean's idea of telling the truth meant he would say everything bad about himself, and leave out the rest. Ok enough from me. Enjoy!

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, I cannot even remember the last time I made a full confession.

I was just a young man when I was thrown in prison. My sister and her child were starving and I stole a loaf of bread to feed them. For that, I was sentenced to five years and fourteen more because I kept trying to escape. By the time was placed on parole, I was 24601, the number branded on my chest. I was no longer a man Jean Valjean; I was a number in the prison records.

I left prison and started my parole. I was treated as anathema. I was given a fraction of the wages paid to other men. And for what reason? Because I bore a piece of paper that said I had been in prison. I had escaped one jail to walk into another. I was no longer behind bars, but I was not free. Not even in my own mind.

And then he invited me into his house. A bishop no less. He trusted me enough to have me spend the night in his house. And I repaid his kindness and his trust by stealing the silver from his table.

Of course, I was caught in less than an hour and dragged back. I knew how it would go. I had not been trusted from the beginning, but this time I had actually committed the crime I was accused of. I have never in my entire life both before and after felt so ashamed. I looked at the floor, I could not meet his eyes or anyone else's' for that matter. It was ridicules; the story I had given the police. No person in their right mind would believe it. No one would give that amount of silver to a random guest. No one would give anything to me. I looked at the floor and waited for my verdict only to receive the shock of my life as the bishop validated my tale in a perfectly composed voice, adding that I had left some objects behind accidently for a good measure, before blessing the police and sending them on their way. I would have left the bag and disappeared into the night, but he stopped me and forced me to look at him. The silver was mine to keep he said, intoning the words as he would a sacrament, but in return I would change my ways. I would no longer be the runaway convict; I would be an upstanding member of humankind.

Those words stayed with me always. They burn as clearly in my mind, as the two silver candlesticks burn before me.

But for all that, I stole something. I promised a woman that I would take care of her daughter, and I did; but it came with a terrible price. Because I lived in hiding, I forced her to live in hiding, alone, with no company. She is the one person I have loved the most and I fear I have also harmed her the most out of my selfish love, my need to keep her near me. Be that as it may, my time on this earth is all but over and now she will know the full extent of who her father was. I wish her well and I hope she does not think too badly of me.

Jean Valjean #24601