Disclaimer: I own the shirt on my back and a big chunky copy of the brick with which I will hit you if you think otherwise.

"Father…?" Cosette called softly for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Monsieur Fauchelevent didn't seem to hear. Or, of course, he could have been ignoring her, as he was only sitting a few yards away with their luggage, staring forlornly into the sea. She couldn't help but feel that she had let him down somehow, even though, after the initial shock had worn off, he insisted otherwise. Marius, sensing her discomfort, put his arm around her, and she snuggled gratefully into him.

It was 4:30 in the morning, and the port of Calais was already bustling, with ships coming and going and workers lifting and pushing all around. The groaning and shouting seemed to make her father a bit uncomfortable, but he had shrugged it off and gone to check the time. He returned with the news that the Bountiful was due in port any time now, bound for England. It was a merchant vessel, and there were no other passengers. Still, it was only across the channel, and they'd be off.

Marius held Cosette close, still reeling from the events of last night. He and Cosette had been in the garden, as usual. It was late, and they had been arguing, at some times tearfully, what to do about The Situation. Cosette's father was going to England, and Cosette was coming. Marius had been saying that they should elope that night, and run away where no one would ever find them. Cosette insisted there was another option. There had to be. She was unwilling to leave her father, insisting he would die of grief. Marius didn't quite understand this devotion. He had never known his father, and while he strove to carry out the late Colonel Pontmercy's beliefs and hopes, he was stung, guiltily, by the fact that Cosette put old Fauchelevent above her suitor. She had begged him to come to England, as well, but Marius was broke. In fact, he was in debt. He couldn't get himself a passport, let alone pay for the journey.

After an hour of this, Cosette, brilliant Cosette, had sighed brokenly and said, softly, the words that had been hanging in the air this whole time, unspoken.

"We could tell my Father."

She must have seen the look on his face, for she had pressed on immediately.

"Marius, my love, you don't know him. He might not approve, at least not right away, but he hasn't a bad bone in his body. I'm sure I con convince him to at least find a way for us to stay in contact. Come, please?" Marius hesitantly nodded. She threw his arms around him and kissed him sweetly, sealing the deal. "Come with me. He may still be awake."

As it happened, he had been, or at least, must have been by the way he'd jumped out when they opened the door to his carriage house. He was brandishing a small knife, and Marius was painfully aware that, despite M. Fauchelevent's age, it was unlikely he could take him in a fight. He lowered it immediately when he saw Cosette, smiling a bit.

"Hello, child. What are you doing, still up?" He seemed to notice Marius for the first time, and got back on his guard. "Who's this?"

Marius had bowed politely and introduced himself, and, to be honest, the rest of it was a blur. He had said a bit, though Cosette did most of the talking, as he sat in quivering anticipation for the police to be called or the whittling knife to cut his throat. Neither came. The old man's gaze simply fell to the floor as time wore on, and seemed to be nearly catatonic by the end of their tale. There was a silence, and it seemed the crickets of the summer night were holding their breath along with the young lovers inside. M. Fauchelevent finally raised his sad, steady gaze to Marius, and asked abruptly,

"Parlez-vous anglais, sir?" Marius had nodded, dumbfounded. "I do not, at least, not enough. Cosette does not, I'm afraid." They both waited in painful silence. "I do not yet know what to make of this whole affair, and I don't know what to say. It seems a pity to take action that we'll all regret without proper time and thought on it. I'll hire you as a translator for us. As such, you'll receive passage to England, room, board, and a small salary." He looked Marius up and down. "And a new coat and hat, if we can find them on the way." He had paused as a clock struck 2:00 in the distance. "The fiacre will be here soon."

He lifted a small trunk without any discernable effort and took one last, longing look around the place, at the colorful drapes hung on the walls and the dying fire, and locked the door behind them.

Cosette had gone to retrieve something, and Marius started when a careful, stone-strong hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to find Cosette's father looking down at him intensely, with a gaze nearly devoid of anger, but brimming over with calm ferocity, and crippling sadness.

"You be good to her. You be good to her," he repeated, "or I'm afraid I might kill you." Marius felt his blood run cold for a moment. "I know you love her. I can see it in the way you look at her. I just want you to know that-" Marius though he heard the man's voice crack, but he must have imagined it. "She is the most amazing girl in France. No… the world. You be good to my daughter, Monsieur Marius." His grip hadn't loosened, but it hadn't tightened, either.

"I know, Sir. I know," Marius replied, trying to put all the sincerity into the words that they deserved.

Marius thought back to that exchange, and wondered what had prompted it. It wasn't as if he was losing his daughter to him. He hadn't even given his permission, really. Only a promise to think. And a job. He seemed to have made up his mind that he would never see his Cosette again, which Marius thought to be a bit melodramatic. He resolved to try and become friendlier with M. Fauchelevent. The man was undoubtedly lonely, and Marius, though they had never met properly until last night, had always admired him. Ever since-

He looked up to see a few more men had joined their little boarding party, to his slight surprise. He wondered what their business was in England. They were big and burly, and he wondered if they might be sailors, although he couldn't think why they would be joining an English crew. They were certainly Frenchmen. They stood off in a tight group by themselves, and didn't seem to be making any efforts to disguise their general air of up-to-no-good.

It was then that another, lone traveler joined the group. He was hunched up against the cold, although, as it was June, it seemed unlikely that the slight breeze was penetrating the man's long woolen coat. Indeed, the coat, as well the thick cap and scarf seemed oddly unseasonable. It was hard to make out his face, which was buried almost childishly in the man's collar. He sat down on a crate and drew his knees up to his chest and his hands into his sleeves. He might have been resting. Or, he might have been watching the other travelers. It was hard to say.

Jean Valjean stood up, groaning slightly as his creaking knees reminded him, per usual, that he was not the young convict he once was. He had had enough mulling for now. He had just about gotten around the fact that Cosette had a young beau, and that she had been keeping it from him. What that meant, well… his heart froze and plummeted to about his naval. It meant a lot of things. He squinted across the water, waiting until he was absolutely sure before he started over to his daughter and… that… boy. Master Pontmercy. The ship was coming in.

A/N: Salutations! I hope you enjoyed that. Now. What I was going to say… this is a crossover. I don't know if anyone figured that out when they saw the name of the boat, but Sweeney Todd will be coming into the story. I'm posting this under Les Misérables because the crossovers I've written in the past never really got read. It will be written so that it makes sense even if you don't know Sweeney Todd. If you don't know it, then Mr. Todd will just be a mysterious figure until a bit later, as he is in his own story, anyway. If this is a huge violation of some code, I'm sorry. Tell me in a review if it really should be moved to crossovers.

In fact, review anyway! I'll take anything. Critiques, this-story-doesn't-deserve-the-time-of-day, complements, you know. Keep in mind it's a AU. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. Thank you and God bless, you damn wonderful people!