Chapter One: In Which Jean Valjean Discovers Something Small and Angry
A/N: Hey! Dragoness of the Stars here. I don't usually stray far from my normal book and animated movies fics, but I love this musical and Javert too much. So I suppose this was the result; first Les Amis fic. The character's looks will be perceived as a mix of book/movie, I guess. Eventual MariusXCosette, though it will not be the main focus. Lots of Javert, I suppose I should warn. I don't own Les Miserables.
Jean Valjean had been happily enjoying a civil tea party with Cosette and her doll when there suddenly came an ear-piercing howl at the door. Cosette's head shot up in alarm, and she clutched Catherine tightly in her frail arms.
You see, this unlikely pair of papa and fille had been living quite peacefully in the Gorbeau House, far from Montreuil-sur-Mer, far from the Thenardiers, and even farther from the despicable Inspector Javert. The pair had been clumsily polite around each other at first. Cosette was still shy around her adoptive father, but through small gentle smiles, inclining her petite body towards his side, little grasps of her fingers at his coat or rough palms, she'd proven to warm up to the former Monsieur le Maire. Any little sign of affection, and Valjean could feel his heart soar.
Valjean smiled at her briefly. "No worries, Cosette. It's probably a hungry cat, or something of the like." Of course, he wondered, no cat he'd crossed paths with had ever sounded so human.
Cosette's fearful face softened. "Should we feed it, Papa?"
Valjean shook his head at her obedient kindness. "Of course, my dear. Why don't you go get some bread from the kitchen?"
While Cosette hurried to the pantry, Jean strode towards the door hesitated only slightly before opening. Instinct had taught him to never trust, but his heart taught him to not listen to brutal instinct. He cracked the door open and stared down, expecting a bedraggled feline, and instead his jaw dropped in surprise.
Cosette trotted up behind his back and her blue eyes widened. She dropped the handful of bread on the ground, gawking in a pause of silent shock, and looked up to her father for guidance. "Papa, it's a child." Her voice came out in a squeak.
Valjean snapped out of his stupor and bent down to take the kid in his arms. The child's hair was dirty and stuck up in fifteen different directions, he was covered in a patchy layer of mud and snow, and his eyes were screwed shut. Two streaks of clean skin on his chubby cheeks showed where the tears had fallen, and his wailing had not quieted even when Valjean had picked him up.
"Shh," Valjean shut the door with his foot and smoothed down the boy's thick hair. He couldn't of been more than two or three years old, yet too big to be less than a year old. He wore a tattered brown shirt and trousers wet with snow. His small fists batted at his rescuer's chin, and when he opened his eyes, they were a pale silver. He mumbled out a word that sounded a strange lot like "Convict,", then whimpered his cries out quietly.
Cosette stood up on her tiptoes to get a better look at the pitiful creature and let out a tiny, breathless gasp of delight. "Oh, Papa, he's cute! Look at him, he seems so angry. I wonder why?" Her voice was soft when she reached up to pat the child's knees, and the boy squirmed uneasily.
"Go 'way."
Valjean almost smiled at his childish irritation. "What's your name?"
The boy suddenly yawned and rubbed his eyes. He mumbled something like "S'eep." and cuddled against Valjean's chest.
The pair sidled over to the kitchen Valjean sat down on a chair and Cosette crawled onto his lap to admire their new-found friend. She poked his squishy, flat nose and giggled. "Do you think his mother is looking for him, Papa?"
Her father had been staring at the child in analytical skepticality and murmured, "Yes, Cosette. I suppose she would be. But why would someone leave a child at our door?"
"He could have come here all by himself." Cosette pointed out. She grabbed a nearby damp cloth and gently began rubbing off the dirt on boy's forehead. He whined quietly in his sleep but didn't wake up.
"Look at his clothing, Cosette. He sports barely anything, the poor boy. His parents must not have even enough to clothe their children. We must seek them out immediately." Jean Valjean answered. His voice seemed slightly absent. He had noticed the boy's dark skin and scruffy hair was stark against his pale hands; his eyes were also odd...foreign, even. Exotic.
As if reading his thoughts, the child opened one of his grey eyes droopily. "Mmf. S'op." he pushed away Cosette's gentle hands and curled into a tight ball. "Hafta...catch two..fo'..six…"
Valjean turned his daughter. "We will begin our search tomorrow. It is too cold out tonight to bring a child around town."
Cosette nodded and stroked the boy's cheek happily. "What do you think his name is?"
Valjean shook his head in defeat. "There is no way to tell, darling."
"Ja..vert'." the boy mumbled in his drowsily. "Hafta catch...two fo' six...o one."
Short, yes. But the chapters will be longer; this is kind of a test drive, to see how well the story will traverse. Anyway, review/favorite/follow if you want to see more adorable toddler Javert moments and Valjean turmoil and mother-duck Cosette! Yaaay.
-DOTS