Prologue:
Jean Valjean only meant to leave with one child that day. The child in question was Cosette, the eight-year-old daughter of Fantine, a woman who had worked at his factory. Apparently she had been thrown out by the foreman, and she'd blamed him for this. There had been nothing he could have done, of course, because Inspector Javert had shown up at the worst possible time. He had later found Fantine very much changed, her beautiful hair shorn, her mouth sporting bleeding gaps where teeth had been, and her dignity shattered. She'd been reduced to prostitution to earn money to pay for Cosette. She was willing to give up everything for an illegitimate child she hadn't seen in years. She had died in his arms that night with a delirious smile on her face. Her eyes had shone with fever and her skin had been clammy and sweaty, but she had been smiling. And that was all that mattered.
Their brief exchange still haunted him, her hallucinating Cosette beside her, cooing to the invisible child, and he calming her and assuring he would forever care for Cosette and she would want for nothing. Her last words? "Tell Cosette I love her and I'll see her when I wake."
Those words rattled in his brain as he rode a carriage to the shabby inn where Cosette was being kept. He pulled on the reins of the horse pulling the carriage and jumped from the uncomfortable wooden rider's seat. "There now, Merle," he murmured to the animal, "we'll get you warm yet." He stroked the black steed's nose and looked to the woods, where he swore he heard a small child's whimper. He knew Cosette was the top priority, but if there was a child alone in the woods on this cold night, they could catch their death. He hitched the horse to a tree and entered the woods, listening. There it was again, that little whimper. A pitiful, scared sound.
Suddenly, through a gap in the trees, he saw her – a child with ratty blonde hair in rags. She had no shoes, and her breath was steaming in the freezing air. Her arms had sprouted gooseflesh he could see all the way from where he stood. She was lugging a heavy wooden bucket, and trying her best not to cry. Jean Valjean couldn't believe what he was seeing. He crossed the clearing quietly, a stick snapping under his boot. The child looked up and gasped, catching sight of him. She ran behind a tree, dropping the bucket.
"There now, child," Valjean called gently. "There's no need to be afraid of me."
The little girl peeked out from behind the tree silently, a few tears falling down her cheeks.
"It is cold out. You should be inside. Where are your parents, little one?" Valjean asked.
The little girl finally spoke up, whispering, "Maman is in Paris, earning money so we can be together. M'sieur and Madame Thénardier sent me to fetch some water from the well."
"Little one, what is your name?" Valjean asked, an inkling already spreading in his mind.
"I'm called Cosette," the child mumbled.
Jean Valjean smiled. "Your mother, Fantine, sent me to fetch you." He crossed to her, holding out his arms invitingly. To his surprise, the child trusted him and willingly let him pick her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Your mother is with God now, Cosette. Do you know what that means?"
Cosette gave a tiny, trembling nod. "Maman is dead," she whispered.
Valjean tightened his arms around the young girl. "But I promised her I would take care of you, Cosette. She wanted you to know she loved you. She loved you more than anything in this world." But what price did she pay for it? He set the child down and took her bucket, offering her his arm. The two exited the woods.
When they got to the dilapidated inn, Valjean cringed. There were sloppy drunkards and disgusting prostitutes scattered around the place, the drunkards blacked out and the prostitutes shamelessly flirting with every man that entered. The innkeepers bounced from person to person, snatching objects off of them and refilling mugs of beer. They were clad in ridiculous clothes, cheap yet frivolous.
Jean Valjean steered Cosette over to the two, a frown upon his face. "I found her wandering the woods in this frigid weather. The child doesn't even have shoes."
The woman and man, at the same time, snapped, "It's no concern 'a yers!"
Jean Valjean gritted his teeth. He explained of Fantine's death and how she had entrusted Cosette to him. He elaborated on how he would be happy to pay any price the Thénardiers deemed fair for Cosette, as long as they kept the whole situation quiet. After much haggling where the Thénardiers claimed Cosette was sickly and fragile and how they shared everything with her, upping the price several times, they agreed on fifteen hundred. It was an obscene price, but he agreed to it anyhow. "Come, Cosette. Pack your things," he directed her.
She grabbed a tiny rag doll and smiled up at Valjean. "That's all."
"We'll fix that very soon, little one," he said fondly.
As the two were about to exit, Monsieur Thénardier cried, "Wait!" He roughly shoved two little girls foreword, one who looked about the same age as Cosette – eight – and one who appeared to be five. The eight-year-old had long, groomed brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was beautiful in a childish way… except her large black eye. The younger girl had hair that was a closer to a warm chestnut, and blue eyes. She was pale and sickly looking, with bedraggled ringlets. There were bruises all over her arms, as if someone had aggressively grabbed and yanked her one too many times. "Monsieur, meet Eponine and Azelma Thénardier," the innkeeper all but growled. "Since yer takin' Colette-"
"Cosette!" his wife hissed.
"Since yer takin' Cosette, kind M'sieur, why dontcha take 'em too? They're just underfoot in the inn; we 'ave no use for 'em."
Valjean looked at the two girls. They were both obviously abused, and the younger one looked weak and unhealthy. It seemed like he honestly had no choice in the matter. The other two would make the situation momentously harder, but how could he leave knowing the younger one could die of disease and the older would continue to be abused? He held an arm out to them, and Thénardier shoved them towards him. The older girl – Eponine – came straight to him, not looking back. She looked up into his eyes, mischief shining in her own, even the blackened one.
"Yer my new Papa, eh?" she said in a gravelly voice.
"It would seem so," Valjean murmured.
Eponine came to Cosette and held out a hand. "Since we've both been dumped, no 'ard feelings?"
Cosette smiled shyly and took Eponine's hand. "Forgiven."
Valjean didn't know the history of the girls, but considering the fact that they were dressed much better than Cosette, he had a feeling they were treated better – even if they were beaten. He was surprised that Cosette would forgive that quickly, and this would shock him for years to come.
The youngest child, Azelma, looked confused. She turned to her father. "Papa?" she said quietly, cocking her head. The disheveled chestnut ringlets hung from the side of her head and she sniffled. The picture of the word "pitiful."
Thénardier gave her a menacing glare. "Didn't ya hear me, girl? This man's yer new papa now. Don't ya call me Papa; call him Papa!"
Azelma took a step towards her father. "Papa-" she started.
He shoved her away from him, and the child fell to the floor. She landed hard on her side, and began to whimper and sputter. Her pale face turned red as tears fell down her cheeks. "Papa!" she sobbed, but turned this time toward Jean Valjean. She ran to him and wrapped her little arms around his legs.
Valjean felt his heart soften and picked Azelma and Cosette up in his arms. Eponine gave him a grin and said, "I can take care 'a m'self M'sieur." She stood at his side, though, pressing close next to him. And so they took their leave.
He really only meant to leave with one child that night, but left with three. He never meant to be Papa to anyone, and now three little girls were calling him the name. But Jean Valjean's soul belonged to God, and God took care of little girls.
Author's Note: I'm really sorry about publishing this new story, but I actually thought of this when I was half-asleep. That's when I have my best ideas, actually. Anyway, this was just the prologue. Romance is about to come! ^^' Please, please, please review!
-Novi