A/N: This is a modern!AU. I never identify where this story takes place, but since the words Monseiur and Madame are still used, I suppose it's in France. Also, for all of my Les Mis stories, I'll be using the characters from the movie version (so Hugh Jackman as Valjean and Russell Crowe as Javert). I've never seen the actual play, but I have read the book and watched the movie a thousand times. If you feel something is amiss with the characters or anything else, please feel free to let me know.

Please leave a review, and I'll put you on the wall of fame! I'll try to keep track as much as possible. If I miss your name, please tell me, and I'll take care of it right away, because I appreciate and love all of my readers.

As always, I do not share any views expressed by any characters in this story. And I own nothing in this story, except for Deputy Allard and a few miscellaneous characters.

Okay, please read, review, and enjoy!

Javert was new to the force, and was on his first practice run with Deputy Allard. It had taken a long time to gain the trust of his fellow men, and Javert tried his best to hide his excitement. At twenty-two years old, Javert showed much promise in his scores from the police academy, and his willingness to follow every order. He was an eager young mind, bound to do well as an officer of the law.

Allard had stopped at a small cafe for a coffee and offered to get Javert something, but the young man denied the proposal. He sat in the squad car, waiting for Allard to return. It was bittersweet that nothing interesting had happened yet. Of course, Javert only prayed for the safety of his city, but he had wished to see Allard in action. The man had become a legend, and he was getting older, so it was not likely he would stay on much longer.

A voice came through the radio as Allard waited in line for his coffee. Javert felt slightly panicked, unsure if he should go in and retrieve the deputy. The voice reported shoplifting in the area, and asked if anyone was around to respond. Javert nervously picked up the radio, speaking into it with a false-confident voice. "This is Officer Javert. I'm on it."

With that, he took off running. The suspect was last seen leaving a small mini-mart a few streets over. Javert's heart pumped heavily with enthrallment. When he reached the street in question, he paused, looking around. Most likely the thief hadn't gotten to far, and was probably trying to dispose of anything that could make him identifiable, such as a hoodie or a backpack.

Javert hurried down the sidewalk, looking in every direction. He spotted a suspicious looking individual down a back alley, rummaging through a messanger bag. Javert quickly approached, shouting out, "Stop! Police!"

The young man turned, looking at him with surprise. Then he smiled before standing, running with the messenger bag in his his hand. Javert called out, "Stop!" chasing after him around the corner. The thief was faster than Javert, but Javert was unrelenting.

When the thief turned a corner, Javert halted, running the opposite way to cut him off on the other side of the building. He lunged out, tackling the thief to the ground. The thief struggled, but Javert managed to turn him over onto his stomach, holding one of his hands behind him. "That's quite enough!" he warned.

Javert unclipped his radio from his belt, announcing, "This is Officer Javert. Suspect has been apprehended. Requesting assistance." He glanced around, looking for a street name so he could identify his location. "Broadway Avenue." Javert returned the radio to his belt, still holding the thief down. He didn't have a gun or handcuffs yet, since today was just supposed to be more of an introduction.

"Hey," the thief grumbled underneath him, "how do you even know I did anything?" He squirmed under the weight of Javert's knee on his back.

Javert scoffed. "People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing. Why would you run if you were innocent?"

The thief did his best to shrug. "Maybe I have policophobia." He glanced at Javert's face, then smirked. "Or pogonophobia..."

Javert scowled at him. "That's enough out of you." He paused before reciting his Miranda Rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and have an attorney represent you before any questioning if you wish. You can deicde-"

"How old are you anyway? You seem pretty young."

Javert sighed, frustrated. "Allow me to continue, monsieur. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should repeat them." It was hard to see, but the thief gave Javert a cheeky grin. Sirens could then be heard in the distance, and the thief licked his lips, which Javert then noticed were slightly bloody. "My name's Jean, by the way. Shouldn't you have asked that yet, or looked for an ID?"

"Just be quiet," Javert warned him.

Shortly after, Allard pulled up, hurrying over to Javert. "Javert, what the hell happened?"

"There was a call while you were preoccupied, so I took care of it," Javert responded in the most respectable tone he could muster. He held out a hand, silently asking for a pair of cuffs. When Allard handed them over, Javert asked, "Would you mind searching that messenger bag? I haven't gotten the chance yet." He cuffed Jean's hands behind his back, then helped him stand.

As Javert walked Jean over to Allard's squad car, Jean whispered, "Y'know, you're pretty gentle for a cop. You must be new." Javert said nothing, but simply put a hand on Jean's head to gently push him down into his seat. He closed Jean's door, then rolled down the window so he could breathe.

Allard had found assorted foods in the messenger bag: lunch meat, a bag of rolls, a couple packs of miniature donuts. The deputy shook his head. "I thought Jean was done playing Robin Hood."

Javert cocked a brow. "He's had prior offenses?"

Allard nodded. "Typically, he steals food, but we never find it once we apprehend him. He's already delivered it by then. Jean's a little too fast for some of us old-timers."

"Delivered it? I don't understand. You mean he steals food and gives it to people?"

"That's exactly it. Makes me feel pretty damn guilty when I arrest him, but it's part of the job." Allard started over to the car, and Javert followed, a bit shocked at what he'd heard. The deputy leaned against the door, half-smiling at Jean. "So, who was this batch for, Jean?"

Jean looked away from him to the back of the seat in front of him, his smugness fading away to show shame. "Madame Faucheux."

With a nod, Allard mumbled. "I see. Her daughter is sick, isn't she? What was her name?"

Jean murmured, "Adalene." He turned to Allard with a saddened expression. "Please, Allard, let me take her the food, then I'm all yours."

Shaking his head, Allard pondered, "I just don't understand you, Jean. Why don't you just pay for the food you give away? Your father is extremely wealthy-"

"I will not spend a cent I have not earned," Jean spat. "These people are suffering; they should be allowed the right to food that they need."

"The law is the law, Jean. I'm going to have to take you in."

Jean looked heart broken. "Please, deputy, let me give them the food, or give it to them yourself. Please, they need it!"

Without another word, Allard rolled up Jean's window, and the young man threw a tantrum in his seat. Allard sighed in disappointment. He turned to Javert, his hands on his hips. "Would you mind running the food back to the store? You make a report of everything and have the store give you a price on the goods. I'll run Jean into the station." He opened his door, and Jean could be heard shouting obscenities at him. "I'll have someone swing by and pick you up from the store."

When Allard drove off, Javert stood there dumbfounded. He ran a hand through his jet black hair, letting out a deep breath. He'd assumed Jean was simply a punk, but to hear that he'd stolen food for a single mother... Javert felt sorry for the teen. He gathered up the messenger bag, then made his way back to the mini-mart.

Javert turned over the items to the clerk, who seemed pretty shaken up. He nearly rolled his eyes at the young woman with eyeliner staining her face. Surely, it couldn't have been that terrifying to see Jean run out with a bag of food. Maybe she'd been afraid of losing her job over the incident, which was a distinct possibility. Javert usually saw a different cashier each time he came into this particular store, and he wondered if Jean had anything to do with that.

The sniffling woman rang up the items, printing out a receipt for Javert, who gave her a nod before leaving. Officer Roche drove up shortly after, giving Javert a ride back to the police station. Apparently he'd heard about what happened, because he spouted off about Jean.

"That boy is always causing trouble, embarrassing us all. At least you caught him before he got rid of the evidence. Sometimes, we never find out where he took the food, and we have to take that loss. It doesn't make sense. The Valjean family is rich, so why does Jean steal? If he wants to be charitable, he should just pay for what he gives away.

"He'll probably be gone before we even get back. His dad always pays his bail pretty quick. If that was my kid, I'd let him sit in jail. Maybe that'd teach Jean a lesson. If he keeps getting busted out, he'll just keep getting into trouble. And with all the money Monsieur Valjean blows on Jean's bail, you think they could buy enough food to feed us all."

Javert sat quietly, processing everything Roche had said. When they reached the police station, Jean was leaving. An older man with white hair had a hand wrapped around the teen's shoulder, and he cast a smile to the passing officers. Javert recognized him as one of the local pastors. Was that why he was always so forgiving of Jean's misdeeds?

As he walked in the station, Javert approached Allard, handing him the receipt. "Was that man with Jean his father?"

Shaking his head as he glanced over the receipt, Allard replied, "No, that was Father Madeleine, Jean's grandfather. Apparently, Mr. Valjean thought that sending Jean to live with his priest grandfather would reform him. No such luck, it seems." He half smiled, handing back the recipet before turning towards his office. "Good work today, Javert," he commented over his shoulder as he walked away.

As Javert wrote out his report about Jean Valjean, he couldn't shake his curiosity about the young man. He snuck into the records room, pulling Jean's file. At only sixteen years old, Jean had already been apprehended five times. Javert wondered if he'd been caught every time that he stole food for a family, or if there were undocumented cases.

By the end of the day, Javert knew everything about Jean. He handed in his report to Allard, since the sheriff was out on business. As Javert turned to leave, Allard asked, "So, I supposed you've done your homework on Jean by now." Javert looked back at him with confusion, silently wondering how he already knew that. With a smile, Allard told him, "You're a curious young man. I'd suspect that someone like Jean would intrigue you."

Javert swallowed, looking down at the floor. "Sorry, Allard."

Allard waved it away. "It's fine. We all wonder why Jean is the way he is."

With that, Javert took his leave. A feeling of guilt twisted in his stomach. He left, walking to a nearby store. He would be happy when he received his own squad car. After buying a few items, he took a bus. Javert tapped his foot nervously, as if he would get in trouble for what he was doing.

Javert walked from the bus stop where he was dropped off, finally locating the house he'd been looking for. He walked up the steps, rapping on the door with his knuckles. A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman came to the door. She looked slightly frightened to see a police officer standing there. "Is everything alright, officer?" she asked in a weak voice.

"Madame Faucheux?"

She nodded, stepping onto her porch and closing the door behind her. A dog barked, trying to get outside to see whom their company was. Javert half smiled, reassuring her, "Don't worry. I'm only here to deliver this." He held up a bag of groceries. "Jean Valjean sends his best wishes."

Madame Faucheux was silent for a moment, before smiling, taking the bag with a chuckle. "That boy..." She looked up at him. "Thank you, officer." Her smile faded. "Was he arrested?"

With a nod, Javert replied, "Yes, madame, but he's been released."

The older woman looked confused. "I don't understand. Did he tell you to bring this to us?"

Javert felt a little embarrassed. "No, madame. After learning about what Jean planned to do with the food he stole, I felt it would be right to buy these for you. He was very upset when he was unable to deliver the groceries to you."

Madame Faucheux grinned, reaching up to touch Javert's face, feeling his well-groomed beard. "God bless you, officer." He nodded to her, and turned to leave. Though he was happy that Madame Faucheux could now feed her sick daughter, there was still the remnant feeling of guilt.

"What are you doing here?"

Javert looked up to see Jean standing there, hands in his pockets. Javert was slightly surprised, but nodded to the younger man. "Jean. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I asked what you're doing here," Jean repeated, a bit more stern this time.

Javert scowled. "I don't see why I need to tell you my business. Seeing as you've already been in trouble once today, I would think it best that you stay home."

"I came to check on Adalene. Is that illegal?" They were both silent, then Jean sighed. "I'm sorry. But I care about this family. I care about everyone in this community."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Javert told him. "I care about the people of this town, as well, but I don't steal to take care of them. You're obviously a smart young man. You should know better, Jean Valjean."

Javert walked away, and Jean watched him for a bit, then walked up to the Faucheux residence. He was beyond stunned to hear that Javert had delivered groceries to Madame Faucheux. As he sat beside Adalene's bed, talking to her and reading to her, Jean couldn't help but wonder what had made Javert finish the work he'd started that morning.