HIGHLY IMPORTANT AUTHORESSIAL NOTE: I want all of you readers to know that it may be a while before this story gets updated again. The reason is mainly because right now, it's National Novel Writing Month (I advertised this in the last chapter) and I'm participating, and since it is a fairly big thing to write a novel in a month, I'd rather work on that and not this. However, if you can all be patient and wait a while, this story will be fairly active again come December. Maybe before then!

Please don't hate me; simply understand that I like to write original stuff too, not just fanfiction. Thank you. And with that, on to the story!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except the plot and my original characters! MUAHAHA! ...Actually, that really didn't warrant a maniacal laugh. Never mind.

~.~Javert's POV~.~

"Why am I here?"

"Because, Luc, it is our duty as Christians to help out those who are not as well-off as we are."

"They're a bunch of untrustworthy, dirty hooligans. Probably all of them have committed at least one crime in their lifetime. Instead of giving them money, we should call the police and have them all shipped off to the galleys."

"Luc, I won't tolerate that kind of talk. After all, if that did happen, what would their children do?"

"Live on the streets, obviously. I did it."

"And had it not been for the fact that we assisted you on that night when you were being attacked, you would have died."

"I DIDN'T NEED YOUR HELP! I COULD HAVE HANDLED IT!"

Valjean smiled, a small, secret smile of amusement. I glared at him. I hated it when people laughed at me. Even if they didn't do it out loud. Especially if they didn't do it out loud.

We stopped at the door of a dismal-looking apartment complex. Raising his hand, Valjean gave the door three sharp, staccato knocks, then stood back and waited. Cosette was beside him, holding his hand. I stood behind them and stared out at the street, looking bored – which I was. And I was not easily bored.

It was late in the evening, and a brilliant sunset was visible overhead. The traffic in the street was dwindling, but there were still a few people hurrying hither and thither in an effort to get who-knew-where. I glared at them, trying to determine whether or not any of them might be up to something suspicious.

Suddenly, a group of four men on the street stopped. They seemed to be looking in my direction. As I watched them, suddenly one of the men pointed at me, shouted, and they all started running towards me. I didn't hesitate; I took off down the street, plunging into what little traffic there was in an effort to hide from my pursuers.

I heard Valjean shouting my name from somewhere behind me, but I paid him no heed, ducking, dodging, weaving through people and carts and carriages, leaping over a stray cat and landing in a large puddle with a huge splash. I didn't pause to lament my sodden state, tearing onto the sidewalk and streaking off into a nearby alley – which, to my chagrin, turned out to be a dead end.

I whirled around, only to see my pursuers standing at the other end of the alley, all four of them.

"Gotcha now," said one of them – the biggest, meanest-looking one. I recognized him from the night they'd attacked me in front of Valjean's home – I recognized them all.

"I wouldn't bet on that," I said, edging towards the side of the wall. The youngest-looking one, a tall, slender lad with black hair, noticed my movements and moved with me, blocking my escape route.

"Don' try to go anywhere," he suggested, and grinned. I stared at him, my gaze cold and hard, and after a moment he looked away.

"C'mere." The big one stepped forward, something light and sparkly in his hand. "I jus' need you ta hold still for a minute." He raised his hand, and I darted to one side. "Ya li'l BRAT!" I dodged again, and he threw it – but not at any particular spot. Just up in the air over my head – where I couldn't possible avoid it.

I threw myself backwards in a desperate effort to save myself from whatever it would do to me, but it was too late. My head hit the ground sharply, everything went black for an instant, and when I recovered, I was staring up at the sky, my clothes far too big for me, and everything seeming smaller once again.

"So that's how you did it," I remarked idly as I climbed to my feet. "You were the ones that grabbed me off the bridge before I jumped, and turned me into this…form." I looked down at myself with distaste.

"Y' should be 'appier about it," the young one said. "We saved you from death! This's better 'n killin' yerself, innit?"

"That," I snapped at him, "is all a matter of opinion. After all, one does not decide to end their life idly, and had you bothered to ask me if I would like to be transformed or not, I would have replied in the negative."

"Yeah, we know," he said. "Tha's why we got ya from be'ind, y'know? Or we woulda had to fight ya, and that would've been tough. After all, what did ya used to be? A policeman?"

"I was known as Chief Inspector Javert, once upon a time," I growled. "Terror of such scum and vermin like yourselves. And now, I'm a child who can be silence with an offer of cake – and it's ALL YOUR FAULT! Change me back, at ONCE!"

"Nah, I don' think our boss would like tha' very much," said the big one. I glared at him.

"Who do you work for?!"

"We dunno. All we know is 'e wanted us ta use the powder ta turn someone inter a kid and bring the bloke to 'im. Now we gotcha, we're takin' ya with us."

"Not so fast," said a new voice, and I jumped – partly in surprise, partly in horror.

"VA – I mean, Fauchelevent! How long -"

"Long enough, Javert," he said, and I almost cringed. He sounded quite upset. I was probably in for it this time. Grounded for a month. Or he'd just abandon me in disgust – though I hadn't really ever actually lied to him. I simply hadn't told him who I was.

"Oh, bother this. Give me the antidote!" I snapped at the big man. He shook his head and wagged a finger at me.

"No no no, only good little boys 'oo ask politely get wha' they want. Now are yew gonna come wi'out a fight, or will we 'ave to make ya come wi' us?"

My eyes narrowed. "Take a wild guess."

"I guess that's a no, then."

"Your typical criminal intelligence entirely fails to astound me." Too late, I caught sight of one of the men swinging a board at my head out of the corner of my eye. "OW!"

Triple A: And this is what is known in the Latin as the common Cliffhangerus Evilus. *Ducks various projectiles thrown by angry readers* I'M SORRY! I know it's short and it's a crummy place to leave you all hanging, but again, I plead REAL LIFE!

Enjolras: Admit it. You're just a selfish fiend who wants to work on your novel and for everyone else to leave you in peace.

Triple A: (Pouty) I'm NOT selfish. If you must know, I'm worried that I've bitten off a smidgen more than I can chew with this whole NaNoWriMo thing, especially since I'm going for above the recommended 50,000-word goal.

Enjolras: ...Why?

Triple A: Because I want to. Because I can...well, I thought I could anyway. I can still do it! I just need to focus on THAT STORY. In fact, the only real reason that this chapter got posted was because I promised the readers a fairly rapid update in the LAST chapter, AND because I wanted to tell them that I'll be off for a while because of the whole NaNoWriMo thing.

Enjolras: I see. Very well then. *Turns to readers* Please review! And feel free to support the Authoress in her hopeless endeavour. OW!

Triple A: It is NOT hopeless!!!!!!!! I'll prove you wrong! I'LL PROVE YOU ALL WRONG!!

Enjolras: Yeah yeah yeah, you keep telling yourself OW! OW OW! STOP THROWING THINGS AT ME!

Triple A: You wanna die, pretty boy?

Enjolras: ...Only in the name of freedom.

Triple A: Yeah. Thought so.

Enjolras: You're scary.

Triple A: Oh ho HO, you don't know the first THING about scary. You got anything else to say?

Enjolras: (Firmly) NO.

Triple A: Oh, goodie.