Opening Authoressial Note: Short chapter, long EAN. And because I'm mean, there's a cliffhanger. But you guys love me anyway, right? :D

Disclaimer: If I was rich enough to own anything like it, I'd be gloating instead of writing fanfiction. Except not really, because gloating is rude and writing fanfic is seriously fun.

I made good my escape from Cosette's room at approximately 3 AM, having staunchly refused to sleep in her bed. Once the door was clawed open and I was safely situated in the hallway beyond, I sat for a moment in quiet contemplation.

Cosette was obviously worried about me. She had stopped by my room before going to bed and issued a murmured prayer for my safety and timely return home. I felt slightly guilty for causing her to worry, until I recalled that my "disappearance" wasn't my fault. Feeling better, I made my escape to the pantry, where my plans to hide out there were foiled by a doorknob and an outward-opening door, both of which were things that cats were not equipped to deal with. Valjean found me wrestling determinedly with said doorknob, and gave me a bowl of warm milk to placate my apparent appetite before delivering me into the clutches of his well-meaning adopted daughter.

As I sat out in the hall, mulling the day's events over in my mind, footsteps from inside the room I had just vacated alerted me to the fact that Cosette was awake, out of bed, and had likely discovered my absence. I scampered further down the hall, into the protection of other shadows, as her bedroom door swung open and she stepped out into the area that I had just vacated.

"Kitty? Here, kitty. Where did you go?" Her bare feet made no sound on the floor as she padded to, and then down, the staircase. I followed, more out of curiosity than anything else.

We were both surprised to find Valjean in the kitchen, morosely sipping tea while petting the ears of a reddish-brown cat that he had apparently let in from outdoors. I hung back, hesitant to enter the room and be discovered, but Cosette moved forward without pausing.

"Hello, Father." He started at her unexpected presence, but before he could move any further, her arms were wrapped loosely about his shoulders as she embraced him from behind, effectively keeping him in his seat.

"Cosette," he murmured, smiling indulgently even as his brow furrowed in concern. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," she laughed gently. "But I'm afraid I already know the answer."

Valjean sighed and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. Presumably resentful at the lack of attention it was suddenly receiving, the cat leapt off the table and came to join me in the doorway.

"I didn't want to worry you, but if you… if you already know…"

"Know what? That you don't know where M. Javert is, and you're very worried about him? It's been rather obvious, Father. You don't generally dry the dishes with your cravat."

Valjean emitted a sharp, startled laugh that turned into a strangled sob halfway through. Her maternal instincts immediately aroused, Cosette pressed her lips to the top of his head and then began to stroke his hair while speaking in her most soothing voice.

"There, there. It's alright. He's fine, Father. Don't worry yourself so. I'm sure he'll be home soon…"

Feeling like I was intruding, I retreated to the sitting room and perched on top of the piano, my tail swishing from side to side as I looked out of the window at the moonlit yard. The reddish-brown cat joined me, and for a time we sat together in complacent silence.

I was buried in thought when my companion mewed softly. Hello.

He – I returned, before whipping around to stare at it, losing my balance, and falling off the top of the piano onto the keyboard. A painful jangle of dischordant sound ensued, and my fellow feline winced and made a trilling sound at the back of his throat.

Jeepers, wake up the whole neighborhood why doncha.

I made a sound distinctly similar to "ashfdjkkghjldh" and the cat's ear flickered.

Nice, bro. Well, I guess I'll have to be coherent for the both of us then. My name's Raymond. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me thoughtfully. You look like a… James. What ho, James!

I fell the rest of the way off the piano.

A3: (1) Yes, my Valjean is a crybaby with (apparently) abandonment issues. But hey, so was the one in the book, so it's all good.

(2) DRAT YOU, RAYMOND, HOW DARE YOU POP UP AND DEMAND A PART. You weren't PLANNED for, you big bully (sob). Go away.

(3) Finally, and most importantly, I am going to be working at the state fair for the next 3 weeks. This means I will be working up to 15-hour days, which means little to no time to write. (All spare time will be spent eating, drinking, and sleeping.)

Okay, now the rest of you can talk.

Erik: I could kill Raymond for you if you like. (Snaps Punjab)

A3: …Your homicidal urges are acting up again. Are you suffering from chocolate withdrawal?

Erik: Grrr.

A3: That's an affirmative. Here. Have a candy bar.

Enjolras: SUGARSUGARSUGAR! (Lunges against the chains)

A3: WHOA. What's gotten into you?

Combeferre: (Pulls out calculator) I have done numerous calculations, and it would seem that massive consumption of colored food articles high in sugar content, combined with his relative inactivity that is a direct consequence of being chained up, has resulted in what is known in modern-day terminology as a "sugar high."

Enjolras: WearetheLesAmisd'ABC! WEWILLNEVERGIVEINTOYOUR oh look something swishy! (Dives for Erik's cape, falls short) I SMELL SUGAR LEMME AT IT.

A3: …Wow, this is kind of awesome.

Erik: HOW?

A3: No, seriously, I'm not kidding. Here, give me that laser pointer.

Erik: Okay… (hands it over)

Courfeyrac: Hey, all you wonderful reviewers out there! And readers! I know there are some of you reading but not reviewing. I KNOW YOU EXIST. And I demand at least ONE of you review. C'mon. YOU CAN DO IT. As for the rest of you, even though the Authoress won't be updating for a while, review anyway, pretty please? It would really be awesome.

A3: Lookie there, Enjy! Do you see it? Do you see the red dot? There it is on the wall! Oops, now it's on the floor! Now it's on your forehead!

Enjolras: (FLAIL) WHY WON'T IT HOLD STILL?

A3: Look! It's on your shoe! Can you get it?

Enjolras: YAY! (Pounces) SQUEE! No, wait! IT WENT THROUGH MY HAND! OH MY WORD, I'M TRANSPARENT!

Erik: Um, I think you ought to cut that out before he faints or something.

A3: But it's so much FUN!

Jehan: (Walks in) Hey, guys! What's up? Ooh, look, a flickering red light! It's like a butterfly! (Chases it)

Enjolras: (SNARL) MINE.

Jehan: (Screams and flees to cower behind Erik)

Erik: WHY ME?

A3: Because you're awesome. Look, Enjy, it's on your nose! Ooh, now it's on your hand!

Enjolras: MAKE IT STOP!

A3: No. Hey, Enjy, guess what's good with Skittles? SODA.

Erik: (Facepalm) No. Oh no.

Combeferre: (Pops open a can) OH MY GOSH! IT GOES FIZZ-FIZZ!

All: (Stare)

A3: Well, that was out of character. And the reason WHY it goes fizz-fizz, 'Ferre dear, is because of this marvelous thing called CARBONATION.

Combeferre: (Swigs cola) HOLY REVOLUTION this is amazing. TELL ME MORE.

A3: Later. It's high time we ended this EAN. Bye, guys! (Waves) Wish me luck! Miss me!

Combeferre: (Reading can) Pepsi. Is that American for "elixir?"

A3: …Um. No.